Table of Contents
Title Page
Introduction
TWO-WAY
SELFISH
AIR-CONDITIONING. COLOR TV. LIVE MERMAIDS
PROOF OF DESIRE
SOUNDPROOF
AN INSPECTOR COMES
SURRENDER WITH A TWIST
UNBOUND AT THE HOLIDAY INN
TRAVELODGE TESS
BUSINESS EXPENSES
RETURN TO THE NONCHALANT INN
THE DEACON
LOVE, LOUD AS A BOMB
NIGHT SCHOOL
FEEL SO DIRTY
PLEASE COME AGAIN
DIRTY WHITE ENVELOPE
TAILGATING AT THE CEDAR INN
STILETTO’S BIG SCORE
SPECIAL REQUEST
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ABOUT THE EDITOR
Copyright Page
INTRODUCTION:
SEX MAGIC
Hotel rooms are magical. Anything can happen in them, and the travelers in these stories know that well, using their hotel and motel rooms to engage in all sorts of explosive acts.
Sex work is, of course, a mainstay of hotel sex, but in this anthology, sex work happens with a twist. There’s the male escort and a desk clerk in “Night School,” by Valerie Alexander, the “Dirty White Envelope” in Ellie Vokes’s story and the professional procurer in my “Special Request.” Hotel workers play just as vibrant a role here as traditional sex workers.
Hotels give us an opportunity to engage in our favorite forms of sex magic on big, wide beds with plenty of pillows that can be used to lean back on or muffle screams of pleasure. We can indulge in the guilty pleasure of eavesdropping on our neighbors or walking down the hall hoping to spy or hear something juicy. Many of the characters here use hotels to escape from their everyday lives and engage in all sorts of flings and fetishes. Hotels bring out our most daring side, and let us strip down in a window, listen in on a stranger, star in an orgy and take part in all manner of other outrageous sex acts.
In “Two-Way,” by Ariel Graham, a couple rekindles their passion for hotel sex and exhibitionism, recalling past thrills while making new ones. Isabel, in Donna George Storey’s “Selfish,” sets out at age forty-four to try something new and a little risky, and her daring and selfishness pay off big time. The title of Anna Meadows’s “Air-Conditioning. Color TV. Live Mermaids” tells you a good bit of what her story’s about, but there’s a tenderness and longing in this beautiful tale of a real mermaid and the man who wants—and gets—her that you’ll have to read to fully appreciate.
The characters in Remittance Girl’s “Proof of Desire” get exactly that, and in her telling, it’s hot, urgent and fierce: “There it was. Need, desire so strong it burst into the stillness of the room, tainting the air with an ache. It hurt. It hurt deliciously to stand so close, to see the beads of sweat that birthed and glinted along the line of his sternum. To smell the faded scent of morning soap rise off his skin, and the sweetness of the oil he’d used on his cock, and the richer musk of his crotch. The tip of her tongue prickled with want.”
The hotel in “Soundproof,” by Emily Moreton, is anything but, and listening to strangers get it on fuels Sam’s desire as he soaks in every word. Suzanne Fox teases us with a fun yet sexy murder mystery weekend in “An Inspector Comes”—yes, her use of the double entendre is deliberate. “Surrender with a Twist,” by Suleikha Snyder, takes us to, fittingly, Las Vegas; no book of hotel erotica would be complete without some Sin City sex. Lily K. Cho brings on the kink in “Unbound at the Holiday Inn,” as a marriage takes a vital step when Mark bares his bottom for a spanking, changing the course of their relationship for the better. “Travelodge Tess” is on the job, but that doesn’t stop her from having some fun along the way in Justine Elyot’s clever tale. Elizabeth Silver delivers a torrid threesome in “Business Expenses,” as Margo, Tonya and Javier enjoy sex toys—and each other.
The tone becomes nostalgic in Erobintica’s “Return to the Nonchalant Inn,” when Gerald and Jillian return to the island hotel they’d visited twenty years before and figure out if they can pick up where they left off. Tahira Iqbal looks at the head of a hotel empire, a modern-day Conrad Hilton named Mark Deacon, in “The Deacon,” as this corporate tycoon makes sure to do a very thorough inspection of his hotels, and a very special employee. Steve Isaak’s brief but powerful “Love, Loud as a Bomb” deals with the fear induced by a Hawaiian tsunami, and a clairvoyant who times her orgasm to a disaster.
Stories about sex workers abound in erotica, but they are usually women; “Night School” mixes things up with its male escort and a woman who turns him on to the thrill of being dominated. They exchange power in a way that unsettles and energizes them both: “He looked at the wall with this weird smile and I realized just how embarrassed he really was. I was the one whose presence had been requested tonight and he was the one who had done the requesting. He didn’t know who was the client here, him or me, and the ambiguity had robbed him of his usual confidence.”
In “Feel So Dirty,” by Andrea Dale, a storm knocks out the power, but that doesn’t stop Lea and Jon from skirting the edges of an affair as they enjoy a sexual connection that the close proximity of their hotel rooms enhances. “Please Come Again,” by Tenille Brown, manages to tackle homelessness in a way that doesn’t address it as an “issue” but rather looks at the core of humanity and desire for human touch Randall hasn’t lost, and that Simone welcomes as she takes care of him, sexually and otherwise.
Role-playing takes center stage in “Dirty White Envelope,” which opens with, “It took me three years to tell Ron I wanted to be treated like a whore,” and goes from there with this common, exciting fantasy. Erotic romance author Delilah Devlin gives us “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” in which Kelsey brazenly takes on two guys who are more than happy to enjoy her lusty attention. Michael A. Gonzales gives us a sexy heroine, Miki Jamison, a forty-five-year-old former blaxploitation star who luxuriates in the sumptuous hotel room, and her costar’s passion for her. Closing out the book, Francine is famous for being able to deliver anything to her guests by “Special Request,” and when Claudine requests she arrange—and attend—an orgy, she is more than up to the challenge—or so she thinks.
All of these stories capture some aspect of the thrill of hotel sex, and I hope you will enjoy them at home, at a hotel or wherever you happen to be, and perhaps you’ll be inspired on your next vacation, staycation, work trip, or wherever your travels take you, to engage in the spirit of these sexy stories.
Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City
TWO-WAY
Ariel Graham
Have we stayed here before?” Mia asked as Tom struggled to free their suitcase from the elevator. The luggage was blue and wheeled and on a leash and apparently the wheels had been taken from a recalcitrant grocery cart because the thing balked at the slightest imperfection on any surface, squalling like mad on the end of its tether.
Tom glanced at her as another passenger who wanted to go up more floors gave the bag a push to get it, and Tom, out of the elevator.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about you and hotels.” He grinned and his dark hair fell into his eyes. At thirty-five, after seven years of marriage, he still looked like the twenty-eight-year-old she’d seen pitching a softball for the software corporation they both worked for. That had begun her brief—very brief—flirtation with company softball, which had actually been a flirtation with Tom. The softball had ended the day he asked her out. No one on the team had begged her to change her mind.
She’d hated softball. She loved Tom. And chocolate, and traveling, and the autonomy of huge crowds at conventions where a name tag and registration fee allowed her to become any
one she wanted. So much public around her made her a little exhibitionistic.
Hotel rooms did, too. The privacy imparted by a key card held by so many guests before her made her feel she was onstage the entire time she was in a hotel room. She imagined narrators describing her every movement as she unpacked her bag or got dressed or undressed, talked on the phone or ate instant oatmeal. There was just something about the sheer number of people who had been there before her that made her feel watched—and she didn’t mind it in the least.
They moved together through the boxy hallways strewn with vast desert landscapes that made no sense—they’d just flown from desert, from the software company’s corporate headquarters in Phoenix to arrive at the anonymous hotel in L.A.
She caught Tom’s eye, about to point out the questionable decor, but Tom beat her to it.
“I know, and I’m sure the Phoenix hotel has ocean prints.”
She grinned at him and ran her hand through her sleek platinum hair that ended shaved on her nape. “Or more convoluted, maybe forest and desert and mountain and plains and all the others are mixed and matched like a giant multiple choice test and if you can just figure out which hotel’s decor goes with which hotel’s location—”
Tom stopped walking and used his taller, broader, bulkier body to press her into the wall. “If you will please, please stop talking about this, I promise I will fuck you silly when we get inside.” He grinned down at her and Mia licked her lips and tucked her index fingers through his front belt loops.
“And yes, we stayed here two years ago for the unveiling of Enterprise Fox. I introduced you to my fraternity brother, Derrick, who’s assistant manager?”
She nodded, not convinced, and he grinned. “Well, anyway, you liked it.” One of his front teeth had a slight chip and was the tiniest bit crooked. With his mouth closed, he was almost impossibly male-model handsome, and then he’d grin and be her Tom.
Teasing, she said, “Were the paintings this much of a test then?”
He glanced at her. “Remember our deal?”
“It does sound promising,” she said, releasing him. “Let’s hurry.” And she went down the hallway without him, looking right and left for their room number, until he whistled and cocked his head in the correct direction, the opposite of hers. She loved hotels but she routinely got lost in them.
The layout of their room brought the hotel back for her better than the fact that they’d stayed there for the release of Enterprise Fox. While Tom went off with the ice bucket on a quest, Mia unpacked, staring at herself through the eyes of the invisible audience. Whenever they were out in public, she was aware of them, the muscled six feet of Tom, his dark skin and hair and eyes, and herself, all five feet of her with cropped cap of white-blonde hair and a bodybuilder’s body.
She didn’t mind being in front of people. She didn’t mind being looked at.
She kind of liked it.
The room featured a closet cubbyhole to the left just inside the door and the entrance to the bathroom on the right, an acre or so of cold linoleum and scanty towels to step out of the shower onto. Hotel bathrooms did nothing for her.
Past the entrance and the closet, there was an interior, adjoining room door, the kind that still used a key in a deadbolt rather than a card, and past the door there was a desk built into the wall and an armchair with a footstool, glass doors that opened onto a sort of balcony, and back in the room were two double beds side by side across from the armchair and desk.
What jogged her memory was the squat, square mirror over the desk. Not great for showing the corporate traveler just how corporate the business drag looked, but it did seem a lot like a corporate hotel’s subtle nod at anonymous and possibly raunchy hotel sex.
Mia grinned, pushed the intransigent suitcase out of the way and sat down on the end of the bed across from the desk. Her pixie self grinned back at her and she remembered being there with Tom, the way he’d piled pillows up under her head so she could look down and see the two of them, and then turned them sideways on the bed so they could both watch. That had been two years and a lot of changes ago. They were better now. A lot better. But she remembered that time with a flash of heat that seemed to start at the base of her neck and shoot downward to her clit.
She took a breath, watching her chest move, and ran her hands over her breasts, cupping them, imagining someone on the other side of the mirror, watching. One-way or two-way, she could never remember what it was called when people on one side had a mirror and people on the other had a window. What she did remember was one of the TV news hour-long investigative shows that covered an unscrupulous landlord who riddled the apartment’s bedrooms and baths in one family’s home with cameras behind the mirrors so he could tape the mother and daughters. For them, it had been trauma. For Mia, it was the stuff of fantasy.
Just when she was beginning to wonder where Tom had gone and whether her ability to get lost absolutely anywhere had rubbed off, he reappeared, coming through the door of their room with loot.
“I got you a diet soda,” Tom said, reappearing, and then started laughing. “What are you doing now?”
She was pressed up against the mirror trying to see whether or not a coin pressed to the surface cast a double inside the mirror. Not that it would tell her much because she couldn’t remember which meant mirror/mirror and which meant mirror/ window.
She just grinned and flipped the quarter in the air. “Don’t hotel rooms make you feel like someone somewhere is watching you?”
Tom put the sodas and ice bucket down on one of the bedside tables. “No,” he said in his you’re crazy but I love you cautious voice. “They make you feel that way. They just make me feel grubby.” But he came forward and put his arms around her and when she tugged the bedspread off the bed and his jeans down his legs, he climbed out of them and sat down on the end of the bed. Mia stood in front of him, still dressed, grinning. She kissed him and then, slowly, kissed down the length of his chest and across his abs and down the trail of dark hair that led to his thick, hard cock. The head was heavily beaded with precome. She grinned up at him, teasing, and touched just the tip of her tongue to his erection. Tom growled, laughing, then cupped the back of her head and forced his cock into her mouth, bumping the back of her throat, thrusting as he muttered something that made her pause. She couldn’t very well ask, and he repeated himself anyway.
“That’s a nice view.” And a few minutes later: “Take your clothes off. Get on the bed and do that. I want to watch.”
The words zeroed in on Mia’s cunt. She got wetter, took a breath, sucked extra hard for just a minute and then slid off him, pulling her shirt and bra over her head as Tom stacked all the pillows on the bed. Her jeans came off next, and her thong. She grinned wickedly as he lay back, canted slightly on the bed, and when she crawled between his legs and knelt with her ass up, taking him deep in her mouth, he moaned.
“That’s gorgeous. God, I can see how wet you are from here. Play with yourself.”
Kneeling, she moved one hand around his balls and sank her mouth over him again. Her other hand went down between her legs, moving over her shaved pussy, spreading her juices over her hot, swollen lips, circling her clit until Tom made an inarticulate sound of need, and Mia found her own cunt with two fingers, pressing in and out to the beat of her mouth going up and down on Tom’s shaft. She came, once, her core sucking at her fingers, clit throbbing with rings of pleasure, and Tom felt her pause, laughed with pleasure, sucked in breath when she started again and said, “No, come up here.” Pulling her onto his chest, kissing her while she straddled his leg with both of hers, horny as a college kid in the backseat of a car.
“Turn around,” he whispered, biting her lip and releasing, and she swung her legs over his hips, impaled her hot, wet, aching cunt on his cock and stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her biceps pumped, her nipples hard and red with blood. She watched her lips spread open as Tom sank himself deep inside her, watched the shine of
her juices on her clit, the insides of her thighs.
“Ride,” Tom said and she started to pump her hips, watching as her breasts bounced on her chest and her muscles flexed, forcing her up and down. She could watch Tom’s cock disappearing into her, could see everything, and so could anyone else who might be watching. Not a mirror but a window. She imagined a group of people watching, like producers or directors or cameramen, people recording them, no stage directions. Even though it was a job for them, they’d be getting so turned on. She pumped harder, and thought of cameras, of the video going out into the world. Her hands crisscrossed her body. She fingered her clit, pressed hard, saw her head start to tip back before she lost sight of herself and it was all sensation, Tom taking up the rhythm and fucking her hard.
“I can see everything from here,” Tom said from behind her. “I love watching that.”
She grinned and didn’t protest when a few minutes later he withdrew, flipped her over onto her back and pressed into her, looping her legs up over his shoulders, kneeling and plunging into her as hard and far as he could.
She turned her head, saw her own ecstatic face as she and Tom both started to come. Then her eyes closed and her thoughts stopped completely and for a while there was just pleasure.
They fell asleep together, holding each other close, reflected in the mirror over the desk at the end of the bed.
When she woke, only minutes had passed. Her body glowed and both of them were putting off heat, reflecting it back and forth between them. Tom stirred when she did, leaned down and kissed her, then sat, grinning a bit like the cat who’d swallowed the canary when really Mia had done a lot more swallowing.
“What?” she asked, a trifle suspicious. She wasn’t sure at that point she’d want the public angle, the audience, the approving masses. She thought by now they’d be urging her to go take a shower with her sticky self.
Suite Encounters Page 1
