Three

The Somerset Inn was a 15-minute walk from the pier. The day was grey, the night was starting to come alive by the lights. But The Somerset Inn was dim and looked rather sleazy from the outside.

Richard folded his arms and stared at the flickering neon sign. “Why do I get the feeling that I won’t be getting your number or even your last name?” he asked calmly.

“Simmins … Margot Simmins … that’s my last name.”

He raised a brow, “And your phone number?”

She smiled, “Just look it up … you’ll find me.”

“Whatever happened to an old-fashioned chance encounter when a gentleman can take a woman home and pick her up again for another date?”

“Oh … come on Richard, don’t tell me you’ve never done this before?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tell you,” he exhaled deeply.

“You’re saying … you’re a 44-year-old, attractive, single man … who never had a one-night stand?”

“Is that what this is? A one-night stand? I thought we’re friends now?”

She laughed, “Of course we are … that makes it a lot easier, right?” she took his hand.

“You’ve done this before?” he looked at her bewildered.

It amused her, “Not very often … surely you’ve done this too?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

She shrugged, “You’re lying.”

“See? You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

She led him into the lobby. He stayed back when she checked them in with the front desk. He seemed reluctant to be there. His eyes wandered around the shabby interior. He fidgeted at his feet and cleared his throat.

He glanced at a cheap knock-off of a Van Gogh painting on the wall behind the clerk. The tattered two-bit flower-printed wallpaper didn’t go with the plaid carpet. It almost gave him a headache.

Then she turned around with a wide grin and a room key, she pulled his hand to follow her through the corridor.

They stood in front of room number 8B, she dangled the key in front of his face. “Take a chance on life once in a while, Richard, let it take you wherever it may lead instead of sticking to your plans all the time … what do you say? Are you in?” she had to make sure he wanted it too.

Everything about that day felt staged by then. He couldn’t help but think she had plotted the whole thing in advance, yet he was hooked from the moment she introduced herself. She was intelligent and beautiful, he thought she was impulsive, but then he started to doubt it.

He looked straight into her eyes, his expression was unreadable. He took a moment before he grabbed the key from her hand and opened the door.

The room was small with King size bed and bedside tables, a small desk, and a couple of chairs. A typical motel room with dim lights and an acceptable tiny bathroom. It was appalling, to say the least, but he kept his cool.

He saw a notepad on the desk, and a pen next to it. He wrote down his name and phone number and folded the paper. He unzipped her sling bag and slipped the paper in. “I have your name … you have my number.”

She nodded, took off her bag, and tossed it on the chair. She began to unbutton her dress with a seductive smile, half biting her lip with every intention to have a good friendly fuck with him.

He watched with a cold stare, not showing a single clue of what he was feeling nor thinking.

Her dress dropped to the floor, leaving her with only lingerie on.

He exhaled deeply and pulled up his sweater. Still without an expression, he pulled down his jeans.

She was right, he had enough chest hair to arouse her mind and abs hard enough to make her dream about it for days to come. She pressed her lips together, judging from the bulge under his boxer, she was going to have the time of the night.

They stood face to face, closest than they’ve ever been since the moment they met. She can smell the soft scent of his perfume that he’d probably sprayed around his chest and neck. A faint smell of cedarwood or tobacco Vanille or somewhere in between. She secretly inhaled him. There was something about Richard that she will not be able to forget, his wonderful smell.

“No kissing,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because … sex is a matter of the body … kissing … is something else entirely, it’s sacred … “

He didn’t reply, his expression stayed flat. “So we won’t be doing this ever … again?” he stepped forward.

There was a magnetic pull between them as their skin grazed against each other.

“No … just this one time … let’s make it special.”

His face was right next to hers, if they turned just a little bit, their lips would’ve touched. But she didn’t want to be kissed, so he kissed her neck instead, and ran his lips to her shoulder. He saw her hair standing up along her arms. His hand slowly made its way to unhook and pulled down the straps. They were strangers in the morning, and lovers by night.

From the moment he touched her, crawled on top of her, and ran his tongue all over her body, he did everything right. He knew his way around her, he turned her, spread her open, and bent her over. He pushed and pulled. His hands, his mouth, his lips, his eyes. He was going to leave her wanting more.

He didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like a long-lost lover that had found each other again. She was lost in him, everything was a blur, and her mind was fogged. Her body writhed between the sheets and the pressure of his weight. And then he did it. He made his way to her soul, through a kiss, as he enveloped her mouth and took her breath away.

She grabbed his face and thrust her tongue inside his mouth, he felt so good. Every inch of her body screamed for him. He paced himself to see how much she was enjoying it. He played his rhythm well, he was totally in control of her. She gave in to the pleasure and melted in his embrace.

He brushed his face against hers, as if he knew, “Come for me,” he whispered in her ear. His arms tightened around her as she came … long … hard … she buried her nails on his back and clutched and gasped. She couldn’t think of anything else other than the explosion of her senses. Her arms still hung over his neck, she was breathless, his eyes saw right through her, and he tilted one corner of his lips. 

‘Who is this man … What has he done to me?’ she thought.