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The Hotel

123

Click. The door swung open, revealing a neat, organized hotel room. To her right was a bathroom and to her left a closet, both of which she walked by, entering the main room. It was nice – not overly fancy or showy. The king-sized bed took up most of the room, with a nightstand on either side and a TV on a dresser at the front of the room. In the corner, by a pair of large curtains she assumed led to the balcony, sat a desk. She placed the room key, her purse, and her phone on the desk.

She had been in hotel rooms, before, of course, but never by herself. She dropped her backpack on the floor and looked to the bed, kicking off her sneakers. The brown and gold comforter was perfectly folded and tucked under the corners of the king bed, fluffy pillows sat at the head. She'd never had a king bed to herself before, either. Playfully, she jumped onto the bed, enjoying the bounce as the mattress springs handled her weight easily and silently. She laid down on her back, spreading her limbs out to each direction, like a star. Studying the ceiling intently, she let the situation rush over her. Was she really going through with this?

The clock read 12:26 in glowing red letters. She turned her attention back to the ceiling, mentally reviewing the constant list of responsibilities she held. Biology homework, chemistry review, Spanish paper, prep for her lab courses, talking to that professor for her research study. She sighed, shaking her head to clear it. That wasn't what tonight was about. Sitting up, she grabbed her backpack and pulled it to her, rummaging through it quickly. She pulled out a plastic grocery bag filled with travel-sized bottles, a toothbrush and toothpaste, two razors, and a small poof – her first task, of course. She set the toiletries next to her and dipped her hand in again, pulling out a pair of panties and a night gown, lacy and sheer. She smiled at the lingerie in her hand; the contrast of her pale skin against the bright blue color was beautiful. Peering in the bag, she saw a pair of strappy black high heels sitting on regular clothing. Yes, she knew she packed all this, but seeing it in the hotel room made it more real. Lastly, she pulled out two bottles of nail polish and placed them, too, on the comforter.

She stood and began to pull off her clothing: a pair of tight blue leggings, a baggy tank top, a push up bra, a simple black thong, and her socks, which didn't even match. Typical college girl apparel, she thought, stuffing the clothing into her pack and zipping it shut. She gathered her toiletries and polish and walked to the bathroom, tossing her backpack in the closet as she went. Flicking the light as she entered the bathroom, she paused, taking in her surroundings. The counter of the sink was lined with the little freebie soaps, and white, fluffy towels were on every rack, piled high on the shelf above the toilet. The shower seemed clean, the curtain partially open and dry.

She shut the bathroom door behind her, locking it for good measure. She pushed the curtain to the corner, plugged the drain, and started a bath, adjusting the water to be quite warm, but not hot. She turned back to counter, looking herself over in the mirror. She caressed her body, her hands tracing up the curve of her sides and over her breasts – they were large, with soft pink areolae that barely stood out on her white skin. Her nipples were tiny and usually unresponsive, they did not perk at her touch. She studied her face, taking in the naturally dark lips that had formed a small smile that always bordered on a smirk. Her eyes were a deep blue-green and her face was flushed. Anticipation, she supposed. Her hair was somewhat wavy, curling at the tips which hung by her breasts. She was a brunette, she supposed, or an incredibly dirty blond. She grinned – maybe she wasn't blond, but she was certainly dirty!

The room was beginning to steam from the bath as she turned, looking at herself in profile. The stretch marks on her hips and breasts were faint on her fair skin, but mildly noticeable. Her breasts barely protruded past her stomach, which was rounded and soft, normally a point of insecurity for her. She turned more, so she could see her butt in the mirror. She flexed her legs, pleased at the way her ass bounced and moved. For a white girl, she had an awesome butt. She looked down, taking in her legs which could not be seen over the counter. Her feet were wide, but small, leading to her ankles – the only part of her body that was without scars, she knew. Her calves were heavily tapered, and grew wider as her eyes traveled up her leg, tucking in at the knee and leading to her thighs. She ran her hands over her legs, reveling in the sensation of her coarse hair bristling against her fingers. Her knees were heavily scarred, which explained why she could not feel them any longer. Her thighs were bright white, pressing together tightly when she stood with her ankles together. As her hands ran up her thighs, she felt the soft hair, so light and blond it was nearly imperceivable on her skin. Her left hand dipped between her thighs and met her mound, slowly stroking the thick bush of hair. She smiled, tugging lightly at the hair that had taken weeks for her to grow out. Her smile turned into a grin as she realized that she was probably one of the very fewest girls at her university that had a full bush.

She turned to the water, which was filling a third of the tub. Grabbing a bottle from her bag, she poured bath soaps into the running water, watching it bubble instantly. She added a fizzing crystal that she had stolen from a gift basket at some point. This was all about her, she had decided – she was in a luxurious hotel and she was going to have a luxurious bath. She hoped it would calm her nerves, too.

Using the hair tie that was always on her wrist, she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to keep it out the bath water. She doubled up the tail, making a bun that hung to her ears. Sufficient, she thought. She laid out her soaps, razor, and polish on the edge of the bath, hanging the poof on the water knobs. The water filled half the tub and she stepped in, letting her feet adjust to the sudden onslaught of heat. She sat down slowly as her body acclimated to the heat; she enjoyed watching the water level rise and the bubbles slosh from her movements. She turned off the water and sat back with her eyes closed, her short body fitting fairly easily in the tub. She soaked for a few moments, her thoughts churning.

Was this actually a smart idea? She had never met this man before... There were many ways this could go badly. He was older, after all, at 28; she was just 19. Horror stories of girls meeting the "perfect man" from online that turned out to be murderers flooded her mind. No, that wouldn't happen to her. She had seen him in the pictures and videos – talked with him on videochat even. He was so honest, he couldn't be lying. She had given him nothing but her first name, yet he gave her both his first and last and never pushed her for more information than she willingly gave. Surely her internal creeper-alert would have gone off by now if something were wrong... and her instincts seemed to tell her the complete opposite. No, this was okay. It was right.

Her thoughts drifted to this man, to his body... the way his words affected her. Idly, her left middle finger traced circles on her clitoris and she bit her lip. How had he convinced her to go through with this? To meet him in a hotel room... To spend the night with him. Her hand combed through her bush as she thought of the sexy texts they had exchanged, the snapchats that she had told herself she wouldn't send but did anyway. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, his thick member pressing between her legs. Her mind replayed the memory of his hand stroking his cock as he watched her masturbate for him, the image changing to his cum sprayed across a mirror...

She sat up, grabbing the side of the tub and panting. She had been on the verge of climax without realizing it. Her clit throbbed and her body was flushed pink. No, she wanted to save that for him.

The bubbles had faded and the water had cooled significantly while she was lost in her thoughts. She let some water drain from the tub, refilling it with hot water. She dried her hands on a towel that was barely within her reach, and then picked up her nail polish. One was blue, to match her lacy outfit that awaited her on the bed. The other was a clear coat which she methodically brushed on and waited a few minutes for it to dry. Next, two coats of blue, and a longer waiting period. She was careful with the last coat of clear, which made her nails shine. After a few moments she added cold water to the tub, letting the water rub over her fingers, hardening the polish. She quickly added the hot water back and then picked up a razor.

She toyed with the purple disposable razor in her hand, looking at her body through the water. Her toes were getting wrinkled from her extended stay in the water. The biology of skin pruning ran through her mind and she smiled, lifting a leg into the air. Setting down the razor she picked up a bottle, squeezing a scented body wash into her hand. Fruity and flowery – not normally words she used to describe herself, but a scent she enjoyed all the same. She slathered the soap on her left calf, working it into a thick lather that clung to her skin. She picked up the razor again and dipped it in the water before bringing it to the inside of her calf. She always started on the inside ankle. She dragged the blade smoothly up her leg, watching as her pale skin was revealed through the lather. She inspected the triple-bladed head, then rinsed it in the water and began again.

The act of methodically preparing herself for a man turned her on; she loved to watch herself transform. The razor ran over every inch of her skin on her calves and knees, revealing slick, warm skin. She shaved her quads, ignoring the backs of her legs where the hair grew soft and thin; it was too much work and she doubted he would notice or even care. She rinsed her legs and then ran her hands across them, feeling for bits she may have missed. Any such patches were quickly remedied by her razor, which then made a pass under her arms. She looked at the second razor, realizing it as superfluous. Her hand ran through her soft bush for the hundredth time, glad she wouldn't have to shave it.

She let the tub drain before standing and removing her hair tie, letting her hair fall down to her shoulders. Relaxation was over; time to get down to it. Pulling the curtain across, she turned on the shower and let water run over her face and chest before dipping her head into the spray, thoroughly soaking her hair. She scrubbed shampoo into her scalp, letting the foam fall into her face and onto her body. She rinsed her face and picked up the poof, squeezing the lovely scented body wash onto it. She began at her left shoulder, traced down the arm to her hand, and back up the other side. Then from her shoulder to her chest, starting on her left breast and moving to her right, then on her stomach. The loofah made its way around her sides and lower back, switching hands as it went. She washed her right arm similarly, then scrubbed her neck. Resting a foot on the corner of the tub, she scrubbed down and up one leg, around her foot, and then rinsed. She treated the other leg equally, her back to the spray while she gently washed her mound and between her legs. Turning to rinse, she washed each butt cheek and then hung the poof on the water knob to dry. She turned about once again, taking suds from her hair and rubbing them into her bush.

Her head tossed back, letting the water comb the suds free. Her hands shook free loose bubbles and dragged through the tangles. As she faced the water again she picked up her conditioner, squeezing a large dollop into her hand. She spread the conditioner through her wet locks, massaging her scalp deeply at she enjoyed the water on her face. Her hands, coating in conditioner, stroked through her hair to untangle it. The remnants of the conditioner were similarly worked into her pubic hair, which she played with. She rinsed her hands and stepped back from the spray, pulling out face wash. She washed and rinsed gently before pulling out an exfoliating scrub, which she nearly ground into the skin on her cheeks, chin, nose, forehead, chest, and neck. Satisfied, she stepped back into the water and let it cascade over her face, washing away the gritty scrub. Ducking her head under the spray, she let the conditioner run out, leaving her hair silky and untangled.

She shut the water off and squeezed the excess water from her hair, which splattered into the tub noisily, then she gathered her soaps and bottles, collecting them in a corner of the tub. She drew back the curtain, the condensation heavy on the mirror and in the air. She picked up a towel and dried herself, starting with her face and arms and working her way down her body. She wrapped the damp towel around her hair and head, grabbing a second towel for her body, and exited the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Her phone blinked from the desk and she snatched it up, her heart pounding. Was this him? She glanced at the time: twelve past two. What time had he said he would meet her? She unlocked her phone. An email. Great. Because prepping for bio lab had just left her mined. She let out a breath and went to her conversation with him. Scrolling through, she confirmed what she had already known: he would be there between 3pm and 7pm... She assumed that because he had rented the hotel room and she had managed to get in, that he must definitely be coming. Still, he had not yet messaged her that day, and the possibility that he would stand her up lingered in her mind; it would not be the first time she was prepped for a guy, only for him to ditch her.

She tossed her phone on the bed, letting her towel drop. From her purse she retrieved her chapstick and ritually applied a smooth layer to her lips; she rubbed her lips together, the action soothing her. She dropped both the purse and chapstick on the nightstand and sat naked on the bed, her mind wandering again. Perhaps music would keep her sane. She picked up her phone and with a few quick taps it was quietly singing at her side. She got up, unleashing her hair from the towel and picking up the second one from the floor. Dutifully, she returned them to the bathroom, which had begun to cool down, the mirror clearing up. From her toiletries bag she picked up her toothbrush and paste. A button turned on the buzzing function on her brush, reminding her of the vibrator she had stashed away in her backpack. He requested she bring it, adding that he would be bringing toys of his own. She brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth, and set her belongings to the side of the counter. She picked up the last little bottle from her plastic bag and from it squeezed a dime-sized drop of thick, clear liquid into her palm. She rubbed her hands together and then coated her hair in the stuff, raking her fingers between the locks and ensuring even application. When she finished she shook her hair slightly, letting her hair fall naturally. She smiled at herself, and then returned to the bedroom, basically dry.

She picked up the panties and slid them on, taking time to adjust them. The lace stretched over her large behind, tucking between her cheeks and hugging tightly to her as she smoothed it down across her hips. The nightgown was next, and she inspected it before putting it on. This didn't leave much to the imagination at all. The cups were black with the blue lace overlaid, which continued down to create a little dress, finished by black tool on the end. The straps were removable, attaching in front with a simple hook. The back had a keyhole cut out, pulled together by the band that created the bra. Perhaps not her person style (she rarely, if ever, slept in clothing) but cute nonetheless. She was sure he would enjoy it. She stepped into the lace, fitting her breasts into the cups and clasping it behind her back. She straightened the straps, puffing the skirt out around her butt.

She yawned, and glanced back to the clock. She had between thirty minutes and hours before he arrived. He surely wouldn't mind if she took a nap, right? She sat her phone on the nightstand, setting the ring volume as high as it went just in case he texted her. She set her alarm for five o'clock, assuming he would be on the later side of his window. Another layer of chapstick was added to her lips before she pulled back the covers on the bed and sliding beneath them.

She found herself on her stomach, facing the balcony. Her right leg was stretched out, her left pulled up to her hip. Her right hand rested under her hip, and her left curled below her pillow.

The music from her phone helped to drown out the flurry of thoughts as she fell asleep.

***

Her face was hanging off the side of the bed, normal for the way she slept, with her damp hair was strung out behind her. She awoke with a start as the bed dipped at the corner. Her eyes shot open, quickly taking in a pair of boots and button down shirt at the foot of the bed. Suddenly a weight pinned down her body, pushing the breath out of her lungs. She couldn't scream as she tried to sit up, her heart racing. She struggled to turn, trying to see her attacker. Was it him? It couldn't be, it was so early, her alarm hadn't even gone off.

She had wrapped herself up in the sheets as she slept and cursed herself for it; her legs could barely move under his weight and the tangle of sheets beneath the comforter. She tried to push against the mattress to get on her knees, but he was on top of her, straddling her hips, his chest pressed against her back. She could make out the side of his body, but not his face. A hand entwined in her hair and she gasped. Her head was jerked backwards and her body forced flat against the mattress. She kicked with her legs, irritated that the comforter was so tight on the bed; she worked her hands free from under her.

"Stop! Let me go, asshole!" She was pissed. If this was him, what was he doing? If it wasn't... She shook her head, immediately regretting it as his grip did not lessen and instead her scalp twinged.

Finally her arms became free from the mess of sheets and she reared back, managing to get her chest off the bed. His arm snaked around her neck, and she grabbed it, trying to pry it away from her throat. She bucked her hips and yanked his arm down, to no avail. "Stop it! I swear I will fucking --"

His arm tightened around her windpipe, cutting off her words. She gasped and gagged for air, flailing underneath him. The covers had slid down and she could feel his warm chest against her back, and his hot breath in her ear.

"You're going to shut up or I'm going to gag you. Now, you're going bright red, so I'm going to loosen my hold a bit so you can breathe. Try anything and I will make you black out next time, okay?" His grip lightened and she greedily sucked in air, nodding. It sounded like him. His voice, the accent, were familiar. His tone was not.

"What are you doing?" She squirmed uncomfortably, panting as she regained her breath.

A dark chuckle answered her. Her hands still held on his forearm, but she didn't dare try to resist. His legs were clamped around her hips, his knees digging into the side of her ribs, his weight pressed on her lower back.

"Answer me!" She struggled again, slipping a hand on the inside of his forearm, by her throat. Breathing room, if nothing else. His right leg moved forward, his knee pinning her shoulder and upper arm. His left leg quickly followed and his weight pressed most of the air from her lungs. He released her throat; she was stuck, face down in the pillows. She wriggled underneath him, attempting to free her arms. She wasted her breath in grunts, swears, and threats. He gathered her wrists in one of his hands and she felt cool plastic brush against them.

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