“Tell me the dirtiest thing you can think of,” V whispered, her eyelashes fluttering like veils.

“Why?”

“So we can do it.” She smiled her filthiest smile, her tongue peeking out between her lips as if she could see inside my mind, and she probably could.

Twenty minutes later we walked out of our room and into the lobby of one of the fancier hotels in New York City. I wore my tux, collar loosened, bow tie untied.

V wore a short black party dress, expertly tailored, classy and just on the business side of slutty. Her hair was tousled, her lipstick smudged, her eyes unfocused. She walked several feet ahead of me, and I watched as her tight little ass swayed from side to side as she walked.

Only I knew she wore a butt plug under that dress, and the thought that it hid just under the hem of her dress kept my cock tingling, and my eyes glued on the exact spot on her body the plug was located.  

They may not have known of the butt plug, but a handful of people HAD figured one thing out: the glistening, translucent trail down the side of her perfect little cheek was cum. My cum. I knew they knew because I watched them react as she sashayed by.

There are two kinds of people in the world. One kind just naturally assumed that the stuff smeared on her chin and glinting in the muted lobby lights was something ordinary, like milk, or toothpaste residue, or a misplaced dab of lip gloss.

The other kind of person saw V, saw me walking behind her, and immediately understood the implication: moments ago she’d been kneeling in front of me as she sucked my cock and fondled my cum-heavy balls. They pictured me as I smeared the pre-cum and spittle onto her lips and chin and told her all the dirty things I wanted her to do to me, all the dirty things I wanted to do to her. They shuddered when they imagined me grabbing my cock in my fist like a sword and commanding her to open her mouth; trembled when they visualized me jerking off onto her tongue and lips, the hot white rivulets dripping from her mouth onto her chin like fresh honey.

There are two kinds of people, and we knew exactly which kind we were. The people who watched her walk the plush carpet of the lobby knew what kind of people they were too.

The other kind, the ones who assumed toothpaste and lip gloss, were unimportant to us.

We were on a fishing expedition.

As we passed the registration desk the staff’s faces reddened but did not otherwise react.

When we got to the elevator strangers gawked, and wives guarded their husbands’ gaze. I pressed the button for the second floor. When the elevator car arrived two couples stepped back and waited for the next car, presumably to avoid riding with us.

We didn’t care.  

V and I held hands chastely during the ride to the second floor.

The doors groaned open and we stepped out.

Our room was two doors down. I opened it with the key card, swung the door open and gestured for V to enter.

She walked to the center of the room and turned to face me.

Only then did I walk into the room. I walked up to her so that we were standing, face to face. I kissed her. I put my hand on her shoulder. I pushed her down to her knees, in front of me and my quickly reawakening cock.

Notably, I’d left the hotel room door wide open.

She unzipped my pants and pulled out my thickening member, holding it in both hands like she was cradling a kitten. She kissed it on its purple head, then rubbed it against her cheek, closing her eyes and mewling as she did so.                    

Two heads appeared from the side of the doorjamb, like moons rising over the horizon. It was one of the couples from the elevator.

The man’s face was flushed with desire, his mouth hanging open, his eyes locked on V.

The woman, less in thrall to her lust than the man, looked to me. Her eyes were wide and round, curious yet guarded. She lifted her eyebrows in silent question.

Like I said before, we were fishing. V had asked me to tell her the filthiest thing I could think of, and this is where it led us.

There are two kinds of people, and these were the kind of people we were looking for.

V, still pressing my cock softly to her cheek, opened her eyes, but now she was posing for the couple on the other side of the open door: a performer, a promise, a dream. This, I knew, was her favorite part. Mine as well. I watched her reach beyond her public face and transform from the woman I knew to a woman I would never entirely know.

V slid two fingers down to the folds of her sexy black dress, and I watched them disappear beneath the bewitching hem of her dress. She shuddered and moaned low. I imagined her fingers parting the lips of her pussy; the smell of it painted the air, like the scent of rain after a summer shower. 

She nodded her affirmation to me. 

I nodded my affirmation to the couple who now stood at the threshold of the doorway to our room.

V took me into her mouth with a theatrical flourish, my cock disappearing down her throat like a magic trick. The couple walked through the door and, inhaling her heady scent, stepped behind the veil and into our fantasies.