As the bath filled, Dale headed into the bathroom and I think he peed into the toilet (although I couldn’t hear over the spa water filling), then flushed and washed his hands. I was pleased he washed; men who fail to maintain this basic hygiene standard annoy the hell out of me.

I was still standing where he left me, naked. I was even shivering a little as the heating wasn’t on and it was a cool evening. I was aware my nipples remained erect, either from excitement or the evening chill.

Dale came back into the room, glanced at the spa and then at me and watching me intently, started to remove his clothes.

I felt insecure, just standing there, naked. His clothes were dropped on the floor around him. A scattered mess. I could feel one or two drops of his semen drying into a congealed conglomeration on my chin and neck. Why couldn’t I move?

Naked now, Dale smiles and approached me. He puts his arms around me and pulls his face to mine and we kiss passionately. Why do I comply so easily? Why am I such a slut? But I don’t feel that then, I feel it now, sharing it with you.

His hands move down my nude back and squeeze my buttocks, kneading them. I don’t know if I was wet the whole time since he led me to his room, but I was acutely aware of my wetness now.

Without speaking, he removes one hand and keeping the other on my buttock, leads me to the rapidly filling bath. It’s not quite half full, but he helps me in and I sit in the deepening water. The jets are below the water line and he turns them on and the water begins to move, bubbling, frothing.

Dale goes to the small refrigerator in the room, opens the door and brings out a bottle of sparkling wine. I recall thinking that my bar fridge only had a bottle half that size in it. Did he have it in there, ready for us, ready for me? Looking at me across the room, he pulls the cork and it pops with a bang. He produces two glasses from the drawer beside and fills them both.

The silence is interrupted when he suddenly rushes over to turn off the taps. “Bloody hell Tanya. Can’t you see it’s about to overflow?”

I am still feeling stunned. How did I get into this room? How did I just blow this man who is not my husband? What am I doing here?

My only response was a meek, “Sorry.”

Dale looked at me with what I recall was a look of exasperation, before turning around and collecting the glasses, handing me one as he enters the bath opposite me.

He holds his glass towards me and gazing at me eyes saying, “Here’s to us, for tonight and tomorrow night.”

I put my glass to his.

“Here’s to us.”

We stare at each other as we sip our wine, before Dale puts his glass on the shelf beside the bath and moves towards me. He envelopes me in his arms and helps me put my glass on the same shelf.

He kisses me with his tongue entering my mouth and I respond as passionately.

“Sit up on the edge please.” He says, not asks.

I oblige and he moves in between my thighs, pushing them wider apart.

“Hold your lips open for me Tanya”

I oblige, using my fingers to expose my cunt to him. It was wet, even if we were not sitting in a warm spa bath.

Dale is on his knees, his hands atop my thighs, his tongue licking the exposed lips of my vagina. We hold this position for what seems like minutes but was probably less than one.

I lean back against the mirror tiled wall and move my hands to Dale’s head.

He licks, he kisses, his tongue lashing at me gently. I am in a place I haven’t felt I’ve been for a long time.

I fondle his hair, I put pressure on his skull.

Dale continues to lick me and I feel his teeth hold my clitoris between them, he was sucking on me at the same time.

I come in a loud explosion of passion that nearly caused me to black out and I slide back down into the swirling waters as Dale moves sideways to put his arm around me and I put my lips to his in an ever so grateful, wet and passionate kiss.

Neither of us speak. We sit there, holding each other, the spa bath jets bubbling water around us.

I was so turned on. I felt so much bliss. We must have stayed there for thirty or more minutes. No speaking. Just me in Dale’s arms.

Then, from the confines of my handbag, came the familiar personalised ring tone of, “Your husband wants you now… your husband wants you now.”