Inside the Erotic Writer

Anonymous Sex

She did not know his name, so everything related to him was in a folder on her computer marked with a capital ‘H’ for “him.”

Felice had outdone herself. Her taste in men was always particularly bad: an assortment of overzealous creative types, addictive personalities, semi-abusive — she had been lucky to get out of that. And now, now, she smiled as the rain beat against the windows of the car and on its roof like a melody she must observe. Now she was heading to a motel to meet a man whose online darkness was sparkling. He told her he’d do things to her she would be ashamed she asked for. It was all part of the game. He said he could kill her. The rain blurred the image of the motel’s fluorescent lights, but she saw them nonetheless and was prepared to get out of the car. She had no desire to put her umbrella up, so she walked into the pouring rain. The sight of the car that he described let her know he was there, and her response to it was Pavlovian.

In the motel lobby, she saw a bride in a very smart suit and a suggestion of a veil about her head, holding hands tightly with her new husband. The bride rained rose petals everywhere she went — blood-red rose petals.

Felice went to the counter and asked for the keys and the room number. She had to fumble through the messages on her phone from him to get. She did not know his name, so everything related to him was in a folder on her computer marked with a capital ‘H’ for “him.”

She took the keys and headed up the stairs, where she pressed her damp body to the wall and tried to breathe properly. Her heart raced quickly as she clutched the keys in her tight fist so their jangling would stop jangling her mind.

Rose petals led to room number eight because the bride had already walked by it. Not because there was anything romantic, that was going to happen there. H. had told her that and to arrive without makeup or perfume because he did not want any artifice about her. What she wore was her choice. A little black dress was her first thought. It would be easy to remove, with her thickly seamed in the back thigh highs. She felt okay even without panties which he did not request, but she felt was right to do.

She opened the door. He jumped her, which is what he told her he would do. His kiss was warm, like he had extracted the summer sun from the day before this rain. She loved the press of him so close to her.

Then he pushed her away.

“You are wet,” he said.

Felice burned up to her temples, ashamed that he knew just how wet she was, as beads of perspiration formed along her temples. Then she realized that she was wet from the rain and he probably meant that.

“I did not put my umbrella up.”

She looked down on the floor and saw she had dragged in rose petals with her. He plucked one from her shoulder, and she had no idea how one had gotten that far up.

The heat from his body could have set her on fire. He put his hand on her thigh and lifted her dress. She saw her legs bare in the mirror, straight across the room.

“Nothing?” he questioned as he skimmed her bare bottom with his fingers.

“No, I thought you would like that best.”

He smiled, which filled her with relief.

“You are very smart, aren’t you?”

Felice frowned when he said that. Being smart had been the bane of her existence. She had never been able to fulfill her baser desires because no one thought she would want them.

“I tried to be intuitive,” she said and he smacked her bottom, which made her labia quiver.

Then he touched her.

“Very wet.”

This time she knew that he was talking about between her legs, and she avoided his eyes.

He raised her chin to look up at him.

“I do not want you to look down. I want you to look at me and observe everything that we do to each other unflinchingly…”

His eyes lingered on hers. Then he moved away. Felice felt a shiver when he did. Like he was the only source of heat in the room.

“Well, take off your dress. Didn’t your mother tell you to take off your wet clothes when you came in from the rain?” She pulled off her dress, which did not have buttons or zippers to delay its removal. She hated that there was a mirror, and she could see herself first naked except for her bra and then completely naked. “Sit down. You have time, don’t you?”

Felice sat, between her legs was sticky wet. H. was dark online and even more decadently so in person. Her excitement was at its peak. Her nipples indicated it. She could see them in the mirror in the dim room.

Without thinking, she walked over to the window. She was sure the soft release under her high heels was a rose petal. She looked at the red lights from the sign, which made H. look like Lucifer as the light hit him. She saw in a flash Lucifer’s fingers.

“I can do every dark little thing you want now,” he said, his hands about her neck, which pleased her.

She had told him all of her fantasies. He knew the things that she liked. There was no secret from him. Slumping into him, he stroked her spine, softly first, then roughly. Every part of her body came to dark life.

“Do you want to play?” His fingers squeezed tighter about her neck and she suddenly felt weak as everything went black…

Another one by me:

And one by Michael Williams: