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Forgive Me Not

The hotel bar seemed to sum up how Laura felt. She was trying to control her anger and not look at her uncomfortable partner, Roger, who stared at the rustic wooden table in front of him and fussed with his nails. She looked around the dimly illuminated room and was only vaguely aware of the folk muzak selection being played through incongruous speakers spaced around the walls. The faux Olde Englishe beamed tavern effect was completed by roughly plastered walls, prints of hunting scenes and neatly arranged horse brasses on leather straps. All purely for decoration.

Spoiling for a full-on fight, Laura had met Roger at his office. Only momentarily wrong footed by her unexpected presence, he quickly regained his salesman persona and confidently strode forward in his sharp double breasted business suit and red silk tie to claim ‘his woman’. His slicked back black hair and slightly swarthy complexion, had always given him a bit of a Mediterranean look, but today Laura thought he just looked like a greasy lothario from a 1950’s Spanish ‘B’ movie. He had obviously been tipped off by someone about the approaching storm, as he quickly ushered her to the car park and the safety of his company BMW to avoid a scene in front of his colleagues.

The full force of hostilities had broken out in the car with Laura unstoppable with her venomous verbal attacks. Roger had suggested going to the hotel and set off before Laura could object. He thought a drink would calm her down and a semi-public place would restrict Laura’s ability to completely lose control.

They found a table in the corner of the bar, sitting close, but not too close so Laura could continue her tirade, albeit with less volume than in the car. She roughly took off her one-button suit jacket and threw it over the back of her chair. Her white blouse was unbuttoned just as Roger liked it, to show off her enticing cleavage. However, he resisted the temptation to look at her breasts on this occasion. He also fought against looking at her increasingly exposed thighs as her suit skirt rode up, as she resumed her verbal bombardment.

He had always told Laura how to dress. He was proud of his sexy girlfriend and wanted to show her off. He liked other men to look at her. To see what he had got and they could only lust after. That even extended to what she wore at work. He liked her to buy smart business attire, but with a hint of tarty. Dressing smarty he had called it. So, the jackets and blouses were just that bit revealing and the skirts were just short enough to show off her fabulous slim legs, always enhanced by high heels, but not short enough to continually show that she was wearing the hold-up stockings he insisted she wore. Nor the g-strings and thongs instead of the fuller panties Laura had originally preferred. And Laura had gone along with it, nervously at first, but then with enthusiasm. She loved him and wanted to please him and she liked him being proud of her. He had taught her to enjoy feeling sexy and the effect she had on him and other men. He had taught her that sex was not just about showing love and affection, it could be just for fun too. She had only given herself to four other boyfriends before Roger, but sex with him had always been adventurous from the beginning. Laura loved Roger’s forceful approach to foreplay and insistence on sex when he wanted it. It meant he desired and loved her didn’t it? He used her body like no other man she had ever been with, gradually building her pleasure and her willingness to submit to his demands. He broke down her inhibitions and introduced her to things she had previously thought kinky and taboo. He even taught her that rough sex could be very satisfying, particularly when combined with a little pain and that her orgasms could be more intense. Orgasms became a drug she couldn’t live without and Roger was her dealer. She was an addict he could control. She willingly became wanton in and out of bed, because it pleased him and she would reap the benefits she now regularly craved. She felt compelled to please him, to prove she was his dream lover, that he had no need to look elsewhere because she would always satisfy his demands, no matter what they may be. But all that was now in the past. The bastard had betrayed her.

“Why don’t you just piss off Roger! How could you do this to me?” Laura hissed across the invisible no man’s land between them. “I thought you were different. I thought you were the one. That we were soul mates. I thought you felt the same. It turns out you are just like all the others. Your brains are in your dick. You’re weak and you can’t resist any tart willing to drop her knickers for you.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Roger could offer, sheepishly looking around him to check if they were being overheard. Satisfied that the other people in the hotel bar were too preoccupied with their own conversations to pay any attention to them, he added. “It meant nothing to me I promise. It was a moment of weakness, bahis firmaları when I was under pressure at work and you were a bit busy settling into your new job. I love you. Please forgive me. I want to put this right. At least I admitted my mistake to you.”

“Don’t try to lay any blame on me,” Laura spat back, her blond, highlighted shaggy-cut hair whipping across her face as she punched out the words, her blue eyes blazing. “And you only admitted it after I had found out and confronted you. That slut must be laughing at me, they must all be laughing at me. You’re so stupid. She set out to have you and add you to her list of conquests. She could read you for what you are, another weak and duplicitous dickhead, who will do anything for an easy shag. And you fell for it. And when she’d had you, she dumped you, but not before she had made it known to everyone in your office what an easy lay you were. Wasn’t I good enough in bed for you? What could she give you that I couldn’t? You complete lying arsehole!” Laura’s voice grew louder and her glass of white wine was in danger of getting knocked over by her increasingly animated gesticulations and finger pointing.

“Look, let’s go home and talk. I know I can prove to you that I am really sorry and that it will never happen again. I’ve learned my lesson. I can’t live without you. Please come home with me.” Roger pleaded.

“No! I need to be alone to try to get my head around this, you bastard. I don’t want you anywhere near me at the moment. Just go and don’t wait up because I probably won’t be home. Come to think of it I might never come home ever again. If you don’t want a scene in here, then just go. Now!” A few people looked in their direction, but tried not to look interested in the drama unfolding in the corner of the bar.

“Please try to stay calm, people are starting to look at us,” Roger said nervously. Laura sat back on her chair, crossed her legs, making sure the skirt of her navy blue two piece business suit was as close to her knees as she could get it, and fixed Roger with a determine stare. “Fine. Whatever. Good night Roger.” He accepted the finality of the statement and made to get up. “OK, I’ll go, but I’m not giving up on us. If you won’t come home with me, where will you stay tonight?”

“I don’t know yet, not that it’s any business of yours. Maybe I’ll stay here,” she said calmly, although the sardonic smile starting to play across her full red lipsticked lips was obviously forced. They then both looked away in silence.

Their audience had now decided that the fun was over and had evidently lost interest in the arguing couple. A man, a dead ringer for a young Pierce Brosnan playing James Bond, wearing a blazer over an open necked white shirt with beige Chinos and old fashioned looking shiny brown brogues, strode slowly, but confidently across the bar, with a glass of red wine and sat at the table next to Laura and Roger. He briefly registered their presence with a nod and a smile, crossed his legs and opened a copy of the Guardian he had been carrying under his arm.

Roger leaned forward towards Laura, to keep his voice low. “Look, if you change your mind, just call a taxi and come home,” adding quickly. “Please,” but with no reaction from Laura. “Here, take some money for a cab,” he said, opening his wallet and taking out three twenty pound notes. He tried to thrust the money into Laura’s hands, but she pushed it away. “Don’t insult me. Keep your money. Use it to find yourself another tart.” She then lowered her voice and whispered, “Now fuck off Roger.” She indicated that all discussion had ended by picking up her wine and scanning the room for something more worthy of her attention and interest. Roger took the hint, sighed, got up slowly and left the bar.

Laura waited until she was sure he had gone, before looking towards the door. She could feel the tears beginning to well, but forced them back with determination. Highlights of the day’s events began to replay in her mind. Roger’s uncharacteristic persistence to arouse her into having sex that morning. He hadn’t been like that for months. His willingness to tend to her needs before his own. The tenderness of his lovemaking. He hadn’t fucked her like that since the beginning and she hadn’t orgasmed so hard in ages. Just like they were young lovers again. Alarm bells should have been ringing, Laura thought. Then, the text from Roger’s PA Jenny to call her at midday. Her revelation of the affair with a twenty two year old slut called Maria who was a Marketing Assistant working at his office. All tits, short skirts and hair flicking no doubt. Why had Jenny told her? He’d probably been fucking her too, until Maria had come along and when he dropped her for a younger model, she wanted revenge.

The tears had gone now, replaced by burning fury again. She’d make him pay for this. She drained her wine glass and put it back on the table with unintended force. The noise made James Bond man look up from his newspaper. kaçak iddaa “Having a bad night? Can I buy you another drink?” Suddenly brought back to reality, Laura fixed the man with her best killer gaze. Unfazed, the man said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Has he gone or will he come back and embarrass you again?”

“No, he’s gone, thank God. I never want to see him again. Such a slimeball.” Laura said. “I intend to leave soon too. I’ll just give it long enough for him to get in his car and actually go.”

“Have you far to go? You could stay here tonight. I’m sure that can be arranged. I stay here quite often on business and they have been very accommodating. Sorry for the cliché, but do you come here often? I haven’t seen you before.” The man laughed and Laura couldn’t stop an involuntary smile in return.

He may have been trying to come on to her, but he appeared harmless enough and he was both good looking and charming. Probably another bastard underneath though, just like all the others, she thought. Oh look, he’s wearing a wedding band. What a surprise. But, it might be worth having another drink, just in case Roger was lurking in the car park, ready to pounce on her again, Pleading for forgiveness. The pathetic shit. Anyway, it looks bad for a woman to be drinking alone in a hotel bar or so her mother had always told her. Mind you, she hadn’t been right about everything. She hadn’t been right about her bloody fiancé, had she? Anyway, if Roger did come back, it might show him that other men found her attractive and she could still pull if she wanted too.

“No, I haven’t been here before and yes please to the drink, if it’s still on offer. I’ll have a Sauvignon Blanc please,” Laura said, in a voice that was at its calmest for two hours. As he went to the bar, Laura wondered what she was doing. She had just dispatched a worthless boyfriend, hated all men, but was now flirting with a complete stranger.

The man returned with their drinks and pulled his chair over to her table. “I’m Paul by the way. Have you called it a night or are you still working?”

“Working?” Laura looked genuinely puzzled and then the penny dropped. “Oh I see, you think I’m a hooker, don’t you?” she asked. Paul wrinkled his nose, gave a grimaced sigh and said. “I am so sorry. What an idiot! How embarrassing. It’s just that I thought that man was trying to offer you sixty pounds and you told him to get lost, as he would only get a cheap tart for that. You are a very attractive, classy woman in my opinion. Worth far more than that at current rates if you were a high class escort. And believe me, we have had some pretty stunning working girls in here from time to time. Oh dear, I’m digging a bigger and bigger hole aren’t I? Shut up Paul, before you get slapped.” He followed up with a disarming laugh which Laura, again, found hard to resist. She smiled back.

“You’re forgiven, for the moment anyway. I don’t know whether to feel insulted or complemented. Actually, with the night I’ve had, I might even take it as a back handed complement. If only I’d been more of a whore, I might have kept my boyfriend. He seems to like that sort of thing. That was him by the way, the guy who left. We’ve split up. Tonight.”

“I’m sorry I misread the situation. He must be mad to lose someone like you in my opinion. Please don’t take that as a chat up line. I mean it. Do you want to talk about it or shall I just go away?” Paul asked with apparent sincerity.

“No, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m probably not going to be great company and I must look a mess, but we can have a drink and then I’d better see if they have a room for me here tonight. I’m Laura, by the way.”

As they talked, Laura surprised herself at how willing she was to open up to Paul. He was a great sympathetic listener and didn’t appear to make judgements about her. By the time she had related the traumatic events of the day, she had finished one glass of wine and was half way through another. She wasn’t feeling drunk or even tipsy, but any inhibitions she may have talking about herself and her life to a complete stranger, had gone completely. By the third glass of wine, with Paul’s encouragement and vigorous dismissal of her ‘thirty four and on-the-shelf’ assessment of her situation, she was actually beginning to feel good about herself. She was feeling relaxed and her body was telling her she was sexy and desirable again, to this man at least. Maybe when the wine wore off that would change, but for now she felt her confidence had returned. It was like the way Roger had made her feel in the beginning. She realised she was enjoying flirting with Paul. As they talked, they had instinctively moved closer together and there had been frequent moments of contact. Accidentally at first, but the electric pleasure it had generated inside Laura’s body made her seek them out more and more, delicate little touches to make her heart beat that little bit faster.

“How old are you Paul?” she kaçak bahis asked. “Forty seven,” he replied, “and before you ask, my wife is two years younger. I’ve seen you looking at my wedding ring.”

“Well, you don’t look it. You have obviously looked after yourself. What would your wife say if she knew you were sitting in a hotel bar with a younger, available woman?”

“My wife wouldn’t be at all surprised. So long as there are no unnecessary complications, she is happy for me to pursue my own interests and not ask questions. Are you shocked?”

“Not shocked, no, envious maybe. Perhaps I ask too many questions. I should relax and live a little. Live for the moment. Take what life has to offer and not worry too much about consequences.” Laura said.

Paul took her hand, sending more electric shocks through her body. She was aware of her nipples hardening and hoped Paul wouldn’t notice them straining at the thin cotton of her blouse.

As if he had read her mind, he glanced at the tell-tale signs and said with a grin “You should, a very attractive and sexy woman like you. And you look pretty relaxed at the moment.” Laura coyly looked away from his eyes and made a half-hearted attempt to pull her hand away. “I am. Relaxed I mean,” she said huskily, her throat dry.

“And the living for the moment bit? Without any inhibitions, restrictions or guilt?”

Laura shifted in her seat, crossed her legs and felt the familiar, delicious pressure increase between her thighs. In a vain attempt to lighten the moment, she put on a theatrical indignant voice and said “I do believe you’re propositioning me, kind Sir. Do you intend to show me a good time?” Even though it had been meant to sound like an attempt at levity, she blushed, bit her lower lip and regained Paul’s eyes.

“I’m not going to show you anything, because that would imply you’d just be an observer. I’m going to fuck you.” Paul said, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Oh and you think I’ll let you?” she asked unconvincingly.

“There’s no point in trying to hide that fact that you want me, want this. Your body betrays you.” Paul whispered confidently, adding rhetorically. “Coming?”

Taking Laura by the hand, Paul led her nonchalantly from the bar and to a waiting lift in the hotel reception area. Paul pressed the button for the fourth floor, but as soon as the doors were closed Laura pulled Paul to her and hungrily explored his mouth with her tongue. She was desperate to have his hands on her body and he didn’t disappoint. He knew what he was doing. His hands found her full breasts through her blouse and his touch felt like firm caresses designed to pleasure, arouse and stimulate. He tickled her erect nipple through her bra and tenderly stroked it, making her moan softly. His hand slowly slid down her body to her thighs and the hem of Laura’s skirt. She knew what he was looking for and willingly opened her legs to allow access to her wetness. She moaned again as his finger delicately stroked her wet lips through the front of her thin lace g-string.

“You are soaking,” Paul breathed.

“That’s your fault,” Laura replied with a smile.

“Slut!”

“I thought you wanted me to be your whore,” she corrected.

Before he could answer, the lift came to a sudden halt and the doors began to slide open. The fourth floor was deserted, so they quickly made their way to Paul’s room, hand-in-hand and giggling. Once inside the room, Paul held Laura’s face in his hands and took his time kissing her tenderly, but passionately. Their tongues were once more tangling and probing as they both blindly pulled at each other’s clothing. Paul picked Laura up, carried her to the bed and to her surprise, tossed her onto the turned down white sheets. He straddled her and held her wrists above her head.

“What’s it going to be then, slut or whore?” The disarming smile dispelled any momentary disquiet Laura had felt.

“Well, what would Sir prefer? What does he want to fuck? A whore or a slut?”

Paul stared down at her and said “A whore would want paying, whereas you will let me fuck you for nothing. You want it – me – so much. I am going to fuck you anyway I want, use you for my pleasure and you will love whatever I do to you, because you are a slut underneath that prim exterior. I will take you places you haven’t been before, even though you may not want to go there at first. But, like a good little slut, you will get fucked in any way I choose. To please me. And you will enjoy it. Revel in it.”

Laura was both nervous and excited by Paul’s forceful proposition. She hardly knew him, but that made it all the more arousing. She had fantasised about being taken by forceful strangers for some time, but had never admitted it to Roger. On several occasions recently, she had awoken at night, to find herself masturbating to a dream where she is being used by a group of men, who had taken her to a remote house for their pleasure. She had put it down to frustration at Roger’s recent apparent drop in sex drive. That must have been when he started his affair with Maria. But the fantasies started to play on her mind during her waking hours, leaving her wet and aching for sex.

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