The boarding pass feels cold as I place it on the polished counter. The scotch in my hand tastes of smoke and loneliness—lukewarm, like the staleness of this terminal. The announcement still echoes in my ears: delayed until tomorrow morning, overnight stay in a hotel, a voucher for a sandwich as an apology. Six hours of waiting that no voucher can make up for.
“Mind if I join you?”
I turn around. A man, mid-thirties, dark coat, worn leather bag. His smile—crooked, almost shy—stirs something in me.
“Go ahead.” I push my suitcase aside. He drops onto the stool, orders a beer, and clinks glasses with me.
“To stranded travelers,” he says.
“To unplanned nights.”
We laugh. Lukas, I learn, on his way back from a trade fair in Frankfurt. I’m a student, heading home. The universe had other plans.
A Game of Glances and Touches
The bar fills with stranded people, but we tune them out. His hand lies flat on the counter, close enough that I feel the warmth. He leans in, his voice drops. Cedarwood and lemon—his aftershave—drifts over to me.
“What do we do now?” I ask, when my glass is empty.
“I booked a room. Double bed. The airline says we can upgrade if we want a single.” He shrugs. “But maybe you just want to come along? For company? We could have another drink or order room service.”
His eyes are dark brown, almost black. They hold me. My pulse quickens.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “But I’ll pay half.”
“Deal.”
We walk through empty corridors, past closed shops and rolling suitcases. The shuttle bus takes us to the hotel. In the elevator, we stand facing each other, our fingers brushing accidentally. I leave them there, and he intertwines his with mine.
Crossing the Threshold
The room is large. Huge bed, window overlooking the runway. Outside, lights blink in the darkness. I set down my bag, turn to him.
“I’m nervous,” I admit.
“Me too,” he says. “But I want to kiss you, if you want that too.”
I nod. His lips taste of beer and mint. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, grows more demanding. My fingers slide through his soft, short hair.
“Slowly,” I whisper against his mouth. “I want to savor this.”
He smiles, steps back. “Then let’s sit.”
We sink onto the edge of the bed. I slip off my shoes, he takes off his jacket. His fingers find the hem of my sweater, slide underneath, stroke my bare back. I close my eyes, leaning into the touch.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
I open my eyes, look at him. “Undress me.”
He obeys slowly, almost reverently. The sweater glides over my head, the pants follow. I stand before him in my panties and bra, his gaze so intense that I feel desired. He stands, kisses me again, opens the bra clasp with practiced fingers. The fabric falls, his palms cup my breasts.
“So soft,” he murmurs.
I moan softly as his thumbs brush over my nipples. They harden under his touch. I push him back onto the bed, kneel over him, and kiss his neck, the spot where his pulse beats.
“Your shirt. Off.”
He almost rips it open, buttons flying. His chest is smooth, muscles defined. I let my tongue wander over his nipple, feel him flinch.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he pants.
I smile, sit up, and pull off my panties. He watches me with half-closed eyes. Then I free him from his pants and boxers. His cock stands erect, the tip glistening wet.
“Come here,” I say.
I take him in my hand, feel warmth and pulsing. Slowly, I lean forward and take him in my mouth. He smells of salt and man. My tongue caresses the underside of his shaft as I suck. His hands bury themselves in my hair, he groans my name.
“No,” he chokes out. “I want to come inside you.”
I let go, straighten up. He turns me around, presses me onto the sheet. I feel his knees between my thighs, his hands on my ass. Then his cock, gliding along my wet slit.
“Please,” I whisper.
He enters me, slowly, inch by inch. I cry out softly as he fills me. He stays still, waits until I’ve adjusted to him. Then he begins to thrust—a steady rhythm that pushes me deeper into the mattress with each movement.
The wave inside me rises, my body tenses. His hand finds my clit, fingers and cock working together. I bite into the pillow to keep from being too loud, but when the climax crashes over me, a scream escapes me. My inner walls pulse around him, he groans, thrusts a few more times, and spills into me.
We lie side by side, breathless and sweaty. The window still shows the runway lights. He brushes a strand of hair from my face.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For being here.”
I snuggle against him, feel his heartbeat. The alarm clock on the nightstand shows 2:47 AM. We have to be at the bus by six. But for now, only this warmth matters, this scent, this nameless night.
The Second Round
After we’ve rested for a while, I feel his hand gently stroking my belly. I open my eyes and look at him. “Again?” I ask with a mischievous smile.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs. His fingers wander lower, play with the hair between my legs. I hold my breath as he slides the first finger into me. I’m still wet from our first time, and he glides in effortlessly. I moan softly as he begins a gentle, rhythmic motion.
“You feel so good,” he whispers. “So warm and tight.”
I grab his wrist and guide his hand further. “I want to feel you inside me again,” I say. “But slower this time.”
He nods and turns to face me, so we’re lying opposite each other. I feel his hard cock against my thigh. He leans forward and kisses me tenderly, while his hand circles my clit. I close my eyes and savor the sensations coursing through my body.
“Ready?” he asks, his lips at my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He guides his cock to my opening and enters slowly. I feel every single
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