Why him? I’d thought about it many times, but in the end it didn’t matter. My body wanted his in a way that I’d never encountered in almost thirty years of my life. No matter how I tried to fight it, I gave in before I even realized it.
Running my opposite hand through the wavy brown hair that fell to the middle of my back, I knew I needed to get my mind off him and back on work, or I would be fingering myself in the bathroom before long. The only time I ever did it at my desk was when I knew he would be around. Even though I had memorized everything about him, my orgasm was always better when I could see him.
It had been hard not to make a sound when I’d come, his eyes taking it all in —especially knowing he’d been hard. I’m sure he knew what was I was doing — at least had some idea — or why else would he have had a hard-on? Fuck, thinking about how large his dick looked even across the room, hiding behind slacks, made my mouth water and my pussy clench. As much as women liked to think there were men walking around packing serious heat, most weren’t. Most were just average, despite what they tried to claim — I would know, from the sheer number of men I’d been with — but I knew his had definitely been big.
Someone clearing their throat had me crossing my legs and turning my chair. In the door way stood a man and a woman in evening wear. I waved them in to the two vacant seats on the opposite side of my desk.
How silly of me to forget where I was, or the fact that I had an appointment due to show up. Being an event coordinator for the hotel kept me busy most days. There was always something or another that needed to be followed up with, an event to get set up, people to meet with. Thankfully, I didn’t do the weddings. I had a single staff member that worked under me and that was all she did. Weddings were dreadfully boring and I was happy to avoid having to see stupidly happy couples together when more than half of them would end up divorced and hating each other in a few years. However, during the busy season, I would have to help her out because it became more than she could handle.
The appointment didn’t take long. We only had to go over a few final details for a birthday party being thrown for the couple’s oldest child. A huge twenty-first birthday party for a bunch of spoiled brats. I had never been so lucky to get anything half as extravagant as what they had planned for the kid and his friends, but then again, my parents didn’t have the money that these parents obviously did.
I was almost thirty. It’d been a long time since I’d lived at home. In fact, my twenty-first had probably been the last birthday I actually celebrated. I didn’t have friends to throw me a party, which was okay since I didn’t want one anyway. Who wants to celebrate getting old? I was single, no kids, and running out of my so called ‘prime’ years. I didn’t really mind though. What would change in another ten years? Nothing. I’d probably still be at the same job and still single. People like me just didn’t get married. Sex addicts never fully recovered. It would always be something I struggled with.
Not to mention that even imagining the fun conversation that would have to take place with a man had me groaning. Seriously, who wants to say, “I might start compulsively wanting to have sex with you or myself”? Nope, not me. It was embarrassing enough to have to deal with it on my own. The only reason I had even realized that I had an issue in the first place had been because I’d gotten fired for masturbating repeatedly at work and watching porn. Not that it had changed anything. I’d crashed after that. Completely hit rock bottom. I spent hours alone playing with myself or finding men to sleep with. That was, until my landlord threatened to evict me if I didn’t start paying rent. Sounds crazy, but addiction is addiction is addiction. I lost sight of the real world and what was considered “okay” and “normal”. Orgasms had become all that was important to me. There was no one around to help me see what my life had become, not when addiction had first taken over. There still wasn’t anyone that cared or would even notice in my life.
I had a mother, a father and a brother around somewhere. We weren’t close. I’d go months without hearing from any of them and that was fine by me. We didn’t even get along enough to pretend to care about each other.
The only person I had to rely on was myself, and that was how I wanted it. I didn’t get lonely. I always had something to do, somewhere to be. Mostly I worked long hours, slept a lot and vegged at home, but it wasn’t hard to find something to do on the rare occasion that I wanted to get out for a bit. It was, after all, my job to know what was happening around town so I could plan other events around and between. I didn’t care to go out and party. It was easier to stay away from temptation when I was by myself, away from sexy people and sexy thoughts — except the one person who came to me when I was at work. That was one I had a hard time escaping. Maybe that’s why I had such a hard time fighting it.
The ding of the elevator brought me back to where I was after yet again getting lost in my thoughts. I looked up. It was the suit man, only he wasn’t in a suit. He was in a pair of sexy jeans and a tight-fitting t-shirt. Another standard for him. He always arrived in a suit, but left in a different suit or jeans a few hours later. I had no idea where he was getting clothes from, since he never had a bag of any sort with him when he arrived or left. He never had company with him either, not men or women.
I had closely watched him trying to figure out what his story was, but he never gave anything away. Never talked to anyone in the lobby. Never met anyone outside. It was the strangest thing. He’d come in, stay for a couple of hours, then leave in a different set of clothes, only to arrive the next night in a suit again. At some point he had to come back when I wasn’t there. I didn’t work all night. It was the only solution I could come up with, anyway.
Many times I had debated about clocking out and staying after just to see if he came back. I had even done it one night, but after working a ten-hour shift, I only lasted two hours before I couldn’t wait any longer and had abandoned the idea. I knew it was wrong, yet the desire to know more about him was so strong, I would most likely do it. That is, if I didn’t finally get in touch with my doctor and admit that I had relapsed. I didn’t want to call him. I didn’t want to have to admit it. I knew part of his solution would be to get a different job, one where I wouldn’t have to see the man who drove me crazy. That was something I wasn’t ready to do. Seeing him was what made my mundane life a tiny bit exciting, gave me something to look forward to.
When I looked at my life in that light, it made me realize that I really needed to get out more, needed to find something to help keep my mind occupied and away from that man. Jennifer at the front desk would probably want to go out sometime. Plus she could tell me more about the mystery man, since she was the one who always checked him in and talked to him.
Or maybe spending time with her wouldn’t be such a good idea.. Every day when I watched him, I felt myself get more drawn under his spell. It wasn’t healthy, but still I couldn’t stop myself from yearning to get closer. Knowing more. Like what his voice sounded like, what he smelled like, what the brush of his hands would feel like, the rush of his breath against my neck. I wanted it all.
Chapter 2
John
The night had started out just like any other Wednesday night. After work, I checked into my hotel room while being hit on by the blonde behind the counter — Jennifer, I believe her name was. She always worked Wednesday nights and she tried to get me to ask her out every single week. It didn’t matter what she hinted she was into or wanted to do to me. She was too plain in looks and too slutty in personality for me. I’m sure many men wanted her with those perky tits, plump lips and bleached hair, but it was the way she presented herself that was a complete turn-off to me. Perky and giggly did nothing for me. She was a girl — maybe not in age, but in personality. I didn’t have time for girls. I didn’t even have time for women lately.