Snow Queen

When he opened the door to their hotel room, she was still lying in bed. Well, they’d met up for a brief lunch between his meetings, but she’d apparently gone back to bed. So, there she was, in a t-shirt and panties, just lying in the large, king size bed.

He had on a charcoal wool overcoat and grey suit. Blue shirt, navy blue, flower print tie.

He draped his coat over the chair and walked to the bed. Placed a light kiss on her deep red lips.

Her skin was pale and she was quite warm. Her hair long and blonde and straight. She stood to greet him properly, hugged him and let him feel the heat from her tall, relatively thin body. Her thighs and ass were strong and toned, years of playing tennis made that so.

He suggested she let him use the bathroom first, that he’d be done in a just a bit, a mere freshening up being all he needed.

She crawled back into the bed, and he noticed the curve of her big toe, the deep red paint on the nail, matching the color of her lips and fingernails.

He closed the door, took a piss, and looked at his face. Washed his face and hands and ran a brush through his hair. Took his coat off and found the thick, green wool sweater he’d planned for this occasion. Sweater on over blue shirt and tie. Hand through hair. A touch of his favorite cologne.

He walked out, and she noticed he looked like a new man. Clean, crisp, with a fresh, vaguely-woody scent that she adored. She’d noticed his cologne the very first time they’d met. It stood out even in the coffee shop. It wasn’t anything typical, not like anything she’d really smelled on a man she’d dated. But, she loved it. Mainly because she thought he was pretty great, but also because it was an intoxicating, intriguing aroma.

She got out of the bed and took his place in the bathroom. He opened the magazine he’d brought along and pretended to read. Mainly, he was focused on the street, the cars, the people, and on this incredibly lovely woman just a few feet away.

When the door opened, he noticed her hair, long and full and beautiful and nearly touching the curve of her ass. He noticed the green of her eyes and how it contrasted with the deep red of her lips. He admired the black, sleeveless dress. He let his eye wander down her long legs, to her foot and toes.

She liked getting his appreciation this way, liked that she was visually appealing to him. He constantly thought he was exceedingly fortunate to have a woman this brilliant and this lovely in his life in any way. Now, she was in his hotel room, now she was his date to the ballet.

The Lyft dropped them at the upscale Mexican restaurant he’d chosen due to its proximity to the theatre. They had just under an hour before the show started.

A meal of simple tacos and margaritas was followed by shots of tequila before they scampered off to the theatre doors. It was 7 PM when they entered, showtime. Someone was talking on stage, introducing the ballet. Their seats were midway down, center. Perfect.

As the curtain rose and the music started, she took his hand in hers. They laughed and whispered throughout the first Act, oblivious to the presence of anyone else.

As the Snow Queen twirled on stage, she took a picture with her phone - a perfect image of snow falling, dancers at the height of their performance.

He noticed the heat from her as the ballet neared the end. Felt an energy he couldn’t quite describe.

There, then, he knew or thought he knew two things. First, she was a bright light. Second, the time he’d have with her would be brief. He chose to just smile, to embrace the moment. He was fully present with her and she with him.

They returned to the hotel and stopped by the bar for a drink. He loved sitting next to her, watching her perched like a rare, tall bird atop the barstool. He relished the looks of others in the bar, knowing that in just a few moments, they’d be alone together - that for those moments, she would be his.

Back in the room, she slipped out of her dress and climbed into their bed in panties and a t-shirt.

He joined her in bed after undoing his tie, unbuttoning, unzipping, and hanging all of his things neatly in the closet. He wore only his boxer briefs and they bore a deep stain from the pre-cum that had been building all evening.

His lips were on hers and she pulled him to her. He was always amazed at how hot her body was, how warm she always seemed. She could not stop kissing him. Her long, pale fingers gripped his shoulders and held him close. It was as if she were eating him, consuming him. The hunger between them had yet to dissipate.

He pulled down his boxer briefs, tossed them off the bed. She gripped his throbbing, pulsing shaft. She held him against her wetness, held him there as she kissed him. Then looked him in the eyes and told him to fuck her.

He eased inside her, held himself there, and looked into her eyes. Said her name, again and again and again he said her name. Then kissed her and said her name. She was a song to him, and he was singing inside her now, softly, slowly, a desire to just be together with her, a desire to never let go.

He held her shoulders and kissed her lips as his climax came. She wrapped her arms around his back, pulled him to her. As he fell to the pillow, she told him he was her favorite.