When she walked through the door I was pleased.  She wore a simple but elegant dress in the color I'd call teal.  It was sleeveless and showed off the swell of her breasts.  Her blonde hair was a little longer than shoulder length and delightfully curled.  Her face was neither intent nor intense as she scanned the room.

I stood so she could see me.  I could see the recognition register in her eyes and she walked deliberately toward me.  This lady was all business.

I held out my hand to her.

"No names," she said directly.  "I don't want to know."

"All right.  Can I get you something?  A white wine?"

"Bourbon," she said.  "A little water."

I nodded and moved toward the bar, leaving her to settle herself at the table.

"Beam with a half-shot of water," I told the bartender.  "Over ice."

I returned to the table with the drink and set it in front of her.

"Thank you," she said, her blue eyes sparkling.  "Just this one and we'll go."

"That's fine," I nodded.

Her pink lips pursed delightfully as she sipped.  "Very nice.  You make a good drink."

I smiled gently, acknowledging the small jest shared.

"Your photo doesn't do you justice," I told her.  "You're even more stunning in person."

"Hmm," she hummed shortly.  Obviously, she was used to getting these compliments.  "I recognized you right away," she said.

"So," I began after an uncomfortable moment, "Tell me something about yourself."

"I'd really rather not," she said, not unkindly.  "No complications."

"Nothing vital," I replied, nodding.  "Just something to fill the space.  How about I ask you?"

"I'm not promising to answer."

"All right.  Obviously, you're college educated."

"Yes."

"Interior design?"

She shook her head slowly.  "Pharmacology."

"You're a doctor?"

She nodded.

"And you have blue pills and red pills.  I have to choose?"

She actually smiled.  "Not practicing," she said.  "And, no, I don't have magic pills.  I don't take pills."

It was my turn to nod.  "College cheerleader?"

"Just the first two semesters.  It got in the way of studying."

"I'd bet you didn't have to study very hard.  You're obviously very smart."

"I worked hard and did well."

"And now you're a bored housewife."

"Hardly," she said.

"Then why this?" I asked.

She looked at me as if deciding whether or not to answer.  "He's too rich, too powerful, too busy, and too often gone.  The mundane things are covered by staff.  So, I guess I am bored."

I paused for a moment.  "That's a damned shame," I said honestly.  "You're too beautiful to be left unattended."

There was another moment of silence.  I noticed her drink was half gone.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Started in engineering.  Switched to computers.  I definitely wasn't a cheerleader."

"You could have been.  Wife?"

"Gone.  Biker was more exciting, I guess."

"So you're divorced."

"Unhappily."

"Lonely?"

"Until about ten minutes ago," I replied with a chuckle.

She looked into her drink.  "Don't make more of this than it is."

"So far, it's just company and conversation," I replied.

She emptied her drink and turned to me.  "You can call me Ashley.  What do you do to make ends meet?"

"Customized programming and trouble-shooting.  Mostly for corporations and businesses."

"From home?"

"Mostly.  In the office on rare occasions."

"Which is why you can get loose in the middle of a workday."

I nodded.  "It's a lot of numbers, code and shit like that."

"Don't do that," she said stiffly.

"What?"

"Don't swear.  It isn't attractive."

"I'm sorry.  It won't happen again."

"There's a time and place for everything."

I wasn't sure I got her meaning, but I gave her another nod.

"Otherwise, you're normal, right?"

"If you're asking if I'm some sort of deviant, the answer is no.  I mean, yes, I am normal.  At least I think I am."

"I mean, it's not like four inches or two feet long, is it?"

I laughed.  "No.  From what I understand, I'm nicely endowed, but not overwhelming."

"You have a place?"

"Hotel.  Down the block a bit.  It appears to be very nice."

"Good," she said standing.  "If you don't mind, I'll take your arm as we walk."

"My pleasure," I said as I stood beside her and offered her my left elbow.  She wrapped an elegant hand around it and we left.

Entering the hotel I steered her directly to the elevator bank, pressed the "Up" button and waited, looking at the various floor indicators until one lit "L" and the doors opened.  I guided Ashley into the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor.

"Six oh two," I informed her.  I looked at her as the doors closed.  She seemed not the least bit nervous.

"What about you?" I asked her.

"What about me?" she responded.

"Are you into anything weird?"

A small smile crossed her face.  "Other than having sex with complete strangers behind my husband's back?  No.  Nothing weird."

"I was hoping I wasn't a complete stranger," I replied.  "I've told you who I am and what I do."

The bell dinged as we arrived at the sixth floor.

"To the left," I directed.

Ashley walked confidently down the hall and came to a stop at the door to room 602.  I slipped the key card from my pocket, unlocked the door, flipped on a light switch and backed out to allow her to enter.

"I'm impressed," she said as she set her purse down on the counter.  "This is quite nice."  She walked to the window, pulled the draperies open and surveyed the view.  She turned to me, arms crossed under her flawless breasts.

"Should I make you another drink, Ashley?" I asked, indicating the mini-bar.

She paused for a moment.  "No, thank you.  Let's get this going."  She turned to look toward the window.  "Help me with my zipper, please."

I stepped toward her, unclasped the tiny hook and zipped the tab down her dress.  I couldn't help but notice her brassiere strap matched the color of her dress.  I stepped back as she slid the dress off her shoulders and turned to hand it to me.  The boy-cut panties also matched the dress.

"Hang this for me, would you?" she asked as she stepped toward me, handed me her dress and began to strip the coverings off the bed.

"Sure," I replied, turning toward the closet, finding a hanger, and sliding the dress onto it.  When I turned around, Ashley had her back to me as she worked the bedclothes off the opposite side of the bed.

Still wearing her heels, she looked incredible as she leaned over to fold the covers at the foot of the bed.  She worked quickly without a wasted motion.

"You've done that before," I said.

She turned to face me with a quizzical look on her face.  "Stripped a bed?" she asked.  "Of course.

"Are you going to get undressed?"  She reached behind her to unsnap her brassiere.  Naturally, her breasts were perfect.

I shed my jacket and tossed it over a chair and pulled my Polo out of my trousers.  "All business," I commented.

"Let's not make more of this than what it is," she said.  "We both know why we're here."

"That doesn't mean we can't enjoy it," I commented, tossing my shirt over my jacket and working on my belt.

"We'll enjoy the sex," she said.  "At least, I hope it's enjoyable."  She shucked her panties quickly and put them with her discarded brassiere.

"Have you done this before?" I asked, sincerely curious.

"Had sex?  Yes, I've had sex before," she said, crawling onto the bed and positioning the pillows to her liking.

"Like this, I mean?  With a stranger in a hotel room?"

She rolled onto her back and looked at me.  "Honestly?  This is not my first time."

"It is mine," I admitted, discarding my shoes and pulling my trousers down.  "I just thought it would be a little less mechanical."

"Really?  What does that mean?"

"It means," I said, tossing my pants toward the chair, "That you are a beautiful woman.  I'd hope this would be something more than a 'Screw me and get it over with' event."

"You want me to suck your cock, is that it?"

"Not especially.  I mean, I'm sure you'd be great at it, but, I was thinking more along the lines of you letting me get you aroused."

"I'm not here to make love," she said.  "I'm here to get laid."

"There's more to getting laid than tab A into slot B.  That's all I'm saying.  I'd just like to enjoy your beauty and help you; encourage you in the process of getting laid."

"Foreplay," she said disdainfully.

I shucked my briefs and moved to sit beside her on the bed.

"Ashley," I said gently, "This is really going to suck if we aren't into it.  Especially if you aren't into it."  I touched her arm with the back of my hand.  "I won't kiss your lips if you don't want.  But I'd like to kiss your neck and shoulders.  I'd like to help you get to a state where you want this as much as I do."

"You want me?"

I nodded.  "But more than that, I want to make you want me."

"What is your name?  I can't have this talk with you without a name."

"Is Ashley your real name?" I asked, allowing the back of my hand to ease across her nipple.

"No," she said, shuddering just a bit.

"Then I'll make up a name.  Call me Peter."

"All right.  Peter.  What is it you want?"

"Just let me arouse you.  Lay back and enjoy.  I doubt you're ready for the final act.  Let me help make you ready."

"I'll have to trust you."

"Some," I replied.  "Have I given you reason not to trust me?"

She looked at me.

"You can be in charge, Ashley," I said.  "Anything crosses your line, just say so and I will stop.  I have no desire to hurt you, cause you pain, or upset you.  All I want is for you to enjoy this.  And in return, if there's something you want, just say so.  I'm going to trust you to be honest with me."

"We're not going to make love," she stated with finality.

I smiled and let my hand cup the underside of her breast, my thumb gently rubbing across her nipple.  "I got that," I said.  "But we are going to excite each other."

"Good start, Peter," she said.

I leaned in to plant my lips in the join between her neck and shoulder.  I could feel her stiffen up a little and then relax.  The nipple under my thumb began to harden.  I felt a hand reach up to my arm.  Rather than pulling it away, she simply rubbed along the forearm.  

For a few minutes I continued to kiss and nibble at the tender skin on her neck.  I could feel her beginning to shift a little.  I moved my lips toward her ear.

"You could tell I wasn't ready earlier.  But I can assure you, things are looking up."

I heard a small intake of breath.

"You smell, taste, and feel wonderful," I continued in a soft voice.  "You're so beautiful and smart.  You deserve to have this whenever you want it."

The hand on my arm moved to my shoulder and pulled gently.

"What is it?" I asked.

"My breasts," she whispered.  "Kiss and suck my breasts."

I eased down to allow my lips to press into the tender flesh of her perfect breasts.  I could feel her hips rise off the bed and couldn't resist a little victory smile.  I wrapped my lips around a nipple and ran my tongue across the hardened bud.  A second hand reached for my other shoulder as the first wrapped around my neck, pulling me into her.  She urged me to shift to the other breast with firm pressure on the back of my head.  After a minute or so of licking and sucking that nipple, I pulled back and looked at her.

"What?" she asked, her voice husky.

"I just want to look at you," I replied.  "You are so incredibly beautiful."

Her eyes had gone from sharp and clear to soft with a bit of a glaze.

"Are you getting hard?" she asked.

"Getting there," I admitted.

"I want to feel," Ashley whispered.

I shifted position slightly so that she had access to my growing cock.  The hand on my shoulder slipped down to my waist, and finally came to rest on my phallus.  I could feel her fingers wrap around it and stroke it gently.

"You're getting there, aren't you?" I asked her.  "You're starting to want it."

"The whore in me is coming out," she said softly.

"You're not a whore, Ashley.  You're a beautiful, vibrant woman who craves more than you've been getting."

"I want to spread my legs and let you fuck me," she admitted.

"How about you spread your legs and let me taste you?" I murmured into her breast.

"You can't do that," she whispered urgently.

"Because you would hate it?" I asked her.

"Because I would love it too much," she answered.

"Let me," I begged.  "Let me taste you."

"Oh, god!" she moaned.  "I want it, but..."

"But you want it too much?"

"Yes.  Please.  Just do it."

I rotated away and rested my head on her thigh.  I could smell her arousal.  I pressed my lips against hers and slid my tongue into the slit.  Her hips rose and I heard a moan.

"Roll over to face me," I instructed, "And spread your legs for me."

The moan turned to a groan and she rolled toward me.  Her left leg cocked and she was open to the probing of my lips and tongue.  I plunged in and felt her tighten her grips on my cock.  I licked the moisture from her and sucked the inner labial folds into my mouth.

"Oh, god!" she moaned.  "Put it in me!"

I complied, pressing my tongue into her tart opening.  My bottom lip pressed against the hard nub of her clit.  She pressed her hips forward and a growl escaped from her throat.  Her tender stroking of my now-hard member ceased and she pulled it firmly.  I felt her soft lips wrap around the crown and her tongue lash across the tip.

For minutes we lay in that position, our lips and tongues lashing and caressing the genitalia of the other.  I could feel her canal pulse around my tongue as a micro-orgasm swept through her, accompanied by a soft groan.

"Enough," she said, softly but urgently.  "I want your cock inside me."

I backed away and swiped a hand across my damp face.  I sat up and looked at her again.  Stunningly beautiful and obviously aroused, Ashley reached out to pull me on top of her.

"Not that way," I said.  "This must be you on top; in control."  I lay next to her and guided her to a kneeling position atop me.  Her eyes were smoky with arousal.

"I told you I wanted to get laid," she rasped.

"I know.  We can do that later.  First, you control it."

"Later?" she asked as she moved on me.  "But, I told you."

"Actions speak louder than words," I said.

Her motions got her aligned with my hardness.  I could feel the fleshy moistness of her lips pushing against me.  She eased downward and my cock slid into her simmering canal.  She stopped, pulled away, and pushed down again.

"Marvelous," I whispered as more of my hardness was enveloped by her hot flesh.  I looked into her gorgeous face as she pressed her hands down on my chest, raised up, and sank back down until my entire length was embedded.  She knelt there over me motionless for a moment, apparently adjusting to the feel of me inside her.

The haze of her arousal seemed to part like a curtain as the business-like Ashley appeared.

"You convinced?" she asked as clearly as if we were discussing the outcome of a disputed wager.

"Only if you like it, darling," I responded, running my hands up her arms to her shoulders.

Ashley rose and descended on my firm rod a few times, then put her hands on either side of my face.  "I like it," she said, then closed her eyes and began to pump on me.

"You called me darling," she addressed me as she managed to continue her motions on me.

"A small endearment appropriate to the intimacy of the moment," I replied.

"This can't be a thing," she chastened me.

"It's already a thing," I answered.  "Whether or not it is a one-time thing or something more we can work out in the future."

"Oh, god!" she moaned.  "It feels so good!"

Indeed it did.  She was soft and hot and moist.  Obviously, she was engrossed in the moment.

She silently plunged onto me for a few moments before her eyes opened and she looked at me through her lustful haze.  

"I'm going to do something," she warned me.  "Don't misinterpret it."  She took her hands off my shoulders where she had moved them for leverage and placed them on either side of my face.  She leaned forward, nearly disengaging my cock from her searing love canal, and placed her lips over mine.  Her tongue pressed urgently between my lips, licked quickly, and withdrew.  She sat back up, moved her hands back to my shoulders and began to hitch her hips on mine.

"So, this is good?"

"Oh, god.  Yes.  This is good!"

"Because you missed it?"

Ashley returned to the rise and fall on me.  She nodded.  "I missed it.  But more..."

"That's okay," I said softly.  "There's more than the physical.  You missed the passion, the arousal..."

"Shut up and let me come," she snarled softly.

I shut up.  I focused on the remarkable features of her face as she went through the process.  Her brows knitted as she concentrated.  Her eyes glistened as she looked toward the ceiling.  I reached for her breasts, held them in my hands and rubbed my thumbs across her marvelous nipples.  Ashley's eyebrows shot up in surprise and her slack mouth grimaced into tight-lipped raptness.  A growl originated deep within her.  I could feel the beginnings of pulsation around my hardness.  Her mouth opened and she groaned a throaty, deep rumble of release.

Those lips that had so recently, briefly, pressed into my own fascinated me.  My own craving was to have them on mine again, and to capture that groan of liberation in my mouth.

Ashley sat still, the pulsations still reverberating through her flesh and into mine.  Her head was thrown back and her sparkling, smoky, hazy, enchanting eyes were closed.  Her hands rested gently on my chest.

"Oh, god!" she gasped.  "I needed that!"

"Nothing beats coming on a cock," I chuckled softly.  "Or is it a Peter?"

Her head dropped and her eyes opened to stare at me.  "Did you?"

I shook my head.  "You're not leaking.  No."

"You're looking smug," she said, her tone softer than her words.

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen just came on my cock," I replied.  "Of course I'm feeling smug."

"Can you keep going?"

"For a while," I answered.

"You feel really good inside me like this..."

"And it feels really good to have you wrapped around me.  I sense there's a 'but' coming."

She smiled and hitched on me.  "I told you.  This is about me getting laid.  I want another one, if you can manage."

"I would love to give you another one..."

"Don't use that ‘L’ word," she interrupted me.  She squeezed on me to make her point.

"Sorry," I said.  "I'd be pleased to accommodate you.  In fact, I'd like you to have two, three, or four more, if you can manage it."

A genuine smile spread across her face.  "Ambitious, aren't you?"

"You have no idea.  What about your 'but'?"

She looked quizzically at me.  "I've never done that."

I laughed aloud.  "No, darling," I chuckled.  "It's a lovely butt.  That isn't my thing, though.  No, I meant this thing about you getting laid?"

"Oh, that!  Well, now that you know I really do want you inside me, can I count on you to fuck me?"

I grinned at her.  "Yes.  Now that I know.  But, I have a condition of my own."

"A condition?  What kind of condition?"

"After every orgasm, I get one of your marvelous kisses."

She stared at me.  "Peter.  You have to know.  I mean, you were right.  It was the passion of the moment."

"That's what I'm counting on."  I moved my hands from her breasts to her neck and pulled her toward me.

"Peter," she protested softly.

"One orgasm.  One kiss.  Quid pro quo."

She let me draw her towards my face.  When her lips were millimeters from mine she stopped.  "If I agree, will you fuck me 'til I come?"

"It will be my pleasure," I whispered.

Her lips pressed softly into mine and our tongues met and did battle, each seeking out the slick sensations of the other.  After tasting and testing each other, she pulled back to look at me.

"Oh, god," she whispered.  "This is such a bad deal."

"Because you hate it?" I whispered to her.

"No," she whispered back, "Because I like it too much."  She pressed her lips against mine and we ravished one another until she broke away with a gasp.

"You have to fuck me now," she said softly, "And you owe me two orgasms."  She climbed off me and went to her purse on the countertop.  She returned to the bed and held out a bundle of filmy cloth.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Bonds," she replied softly.  "Tie my wrists together, make me kneel on the bed and fuck me, Peter."

"This is what you want?" I asked, astonished.

Her pretty head nodded.  "You can use the other for a blindfold."

"You're serious."

"I want you to fuck me, Peter.  I want you to make me your slut.  Use me for your pleasure."

"If I do this, I will still get the kisses."

"Yes," she whispered.

I stretched out one of the sashes and wrapped it around her eyes, tying it in a knot behind her head.  I kissed her shoulder tenderly as I swirled the second into a rope, held her wrists together, wrapped the sash around three times and tied it tightly.

"Kneel," I ordered her.

She knelt on the bed resting on her elbows with her wrists bound together.  I pushed my hand between her legs and felt her.  She was soaking.

"I could be anybody, Ashley, you know that?"

"I know."

"I could be the bellman, or a cab driver."

"I know."

"I might even be your husband."

"No.  He would never do this for me."

I lined myself up behind her, took my cock in my hand and pressed it along her moist slit.

"Who do you want me to be?"

"Just be Peter," she responded softly.

I found her moist opening and pressed against it.  Ashley groaned.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes."

"You belong to me?"

"Yes."  It came out as a bare whisper.

I pushed my length into her until the soft skin of her thighs met mine.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned.  "Hard."

I pulled back and drove into with moderate force.

"Harder," she moaned.

"You're mine, Ashley.  I'll decide how hard."

This time when I pulled back, I rammed my length into her.

"Oh, god!" she moaned.  "Fuck me like the slut I am."

I began plowing into her rhythmically.  Her moans were continuous and she began to rock back against me as I thrust into her.  I put my hands on her waist to pull her to me.

"Tell me about your marriage," I ordered as I continue to thrust.

"I can't, Peter.  It isn't...I just can't."

"My name isn't Peter.  It's Stephen.  And you will tell me."

"Please," she wailed.  "Don't make me."

"Tell me, Ashley.  Tell me your real name."  I slapped her backside with my palm.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried.  "You're just supposed to fuck me!"

"Tell me.  Who are you?"  I slapped the globes again.

"Andrea! Andrea!" she wailed.  "I'm Andrea and my marriage is a sham!"

"Tell me," I ordered, this time tenderly rubbing where I'd slapped.

"I'm his trophy," she cried into the bed.  "Oh, fuck!  He doesn't even touch me."

"I would touch you, Andrea.  I wouldn't be able to help myself."

"He's gay, Peter.  I mean, Stephen.  He's gay and he doesn't want to fuck me."

"I do, Andrea.  I want to fuck you.  And I want you to fuck me, like we did the first time."

"But I can't," she whimpered.  "I can't leave him.  It's in the contract."

"You have a contract?" I growled and pummeled into her.

"Yes.  Oh, please!  Fuck me!  I'm going to come!"

"Then come, Andrea.  I want you to come."

"Just today, Stephen.  The contract.  Oh, god!  I'm coming!"

"What about the contract?" I growled as I plunged against her tightening flesh.

"Oh!  Oh!  Oh, god!" Andrea/Ashley cried out.  "Just once or I lose everything."

I continued to drive through her orgasm.  "What do you lose?" I asked.

"Everything," she gasped.  "The cars, the clothes, the house."

"You want me to stop?"

"No, no!  You haven't come yet.  I want you to come.  Then you have to kiss me."

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yes, please.  Oh, fuck.  Please keep going!"

I kept fucking her with vigor.  I realized that the energy was coming from anger now more than passion.  Yes, I wanted her to come again.  Yes, I wanted to come with her.  And, yes, I wanted more of her kisses.  But the damned contract!  Just once, she'd said.  Did that mean we would only be allowed this one tryst or the contract would be violated?  I plunged into her.  What I wanted now was to make her mine; to plant my seed in her and make her my own.

It was insanity, I knew.  But the whole situation was insane.  Why did I want her?  Was it just because I couldn't have her according to the damned contract?  That had to be part of it.  But, she was beautiful and, once through the icy wall she put up, engaging and bright and funny.  My mind drifted to the image of her atop me, groaning and panting toward her orgasm, my hands on the perfect breasts.  And then, there were those kisses.  They were perfect as well; passionate, but generous.  And she wanted them as much as I did.

My mind returned to the reality of the situation.  I could hear her pleading with me.

"Fuck me, Peter.  I'm so close.  I want you to come with me."

"Inside you?" I gasped, surprised at my own breathlessness.

"Yes, oh, god!  Yes, inside me.  Don't worry."

I shrugged internally.  What did I have to worry about?  Maybe she was on birth control.  Maybe the contract covered that, too.  The anger swelled inside me as my own orgasm began with the tightening in my thighs.  I knew that if I could make three or four more thrusts, I'd be there.

"Come with me, Peter!" she cried and her canal tightened around me.  

That put me over the edge and I groaned gutturally as I shot my seed deep inside her.  I reached up and yanked the blindfold off her head.  "Never again," I growled.  "From now on, you will only wear that if you have to pretend it is me."

When our breathing began to normalize and I slipped out of her, Andrea turned around and looked at me, her wrists still bound.

"You're different," she said quietly.

"Different from what?  Different from whom?"

"Different from when we arrived here," she replied.

I knelt beside the bed and put my arms across her thighs.  "Not the same old Peter?"

She raised her bound hands and put her fingers in my hair.  "You became angry with me."

I shook my head gently.  "Not with you, darling.  With the whole screwed up situation."

"Well," she said, the same business-like Ashley that had arrived with me, "After today, you won't have to worry about it."

"Tell me about the contract."

She sighed.  "I've never told anybody about it.  I stay married to him and receive all the benefits of being his wife."

"Except the sex."

"But it even covers that.  I'm allowed to take lovers; sex partners.  But only once for each event.  I can never go back to the same one.  If I do, then it's a breach and I lose all the benefits."

"So, that's what you meant when you said it can't be a thing."

She nodded.

"This might seem indelicate, but, how many have you had?"

"You're the third."

"And?"

"What do you want me to say?  The best?" she asked with a grin.  "Certainly, the most sensitive."

"But not the best."

"We're not done yet," she replied.  "But you're the first to care whether or not I was aroused."

"You know this sucks."

"You didn't seem to mind when I did suck it."

"Yeah.  Which brings me to the question: Why did you do that?  I got the impression it wasn't something you enjoyed."

"Well, I was aroused.  By you, Peter.  And it was there in front of me and looked nice and I wanted to do it.  I wanted to do it for you and for me."

"My name isn't Peter, Andrea.  It's Stephen."

"I know.  But you'll always be my Peter."

"All those things, Andrea," I said.  "They're just things.  What about happiness?  What about love?  What about joy?"

"They are the things that bring me happiness, Peter.  I don't think I'd find much joy without them.  And frankly, I'm too scared to try."

I kissed the skin of her thigh.  "I hate the idea of you living with that fear, Andrea.  Maybe, afterwards, you can just talk to each other.  Maybe I can help you deal with being scared."

She shook her head sadly.  "The contract says, 'No further contact.'"

"Why would you sign such a thing?  I mean, is there anything he could do to break it and give you, like half, or something?"

"It's pretty much up to me.  He gives me stuff and gets me in return.  The only way I get anything is if he dies," she said.  She paused for a few moments to let that sink in.  "If you were capable of doing something like that, there's no way I could love you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not."

"I didn't think so," she said.  "I'm glad about that.

"Could you untie my hands, Peter?  I owe you two kisses and you owe me one, too."

I set about untying the knot in her bonds.  "You know what I was thinking when I was getting ready to come?"

"Tell me."

"I was thinking I could make you pregnant, and then make you mine.  I know it's crazy, but then this whole thing is insane."

"You can't make me pregnant," she said.  "I have one of those implant things.  And, the contract says that if I do get pregnant, we will raise the child as our own, he and I.  You'd never know and you'd never get to see your child."

"Maybe this is indelicate of me, but I have to ask.  Do you love him?"

"I did.  Well, I think I did.  But, I didn't know he was gay until after we were married.  When he presented me the contract."

"Wait, he didn't tell you until after the wedding?" I asked her.

"No."

"Then it's a fraudulent marriage, Andrea.  You can have it annulled."

"But the result is the same, Peter.  I'd walk away with nothing."  She stroked my hair tenderly.

"How old are you, Peter?" she asked softly.

I sat up and looked at her.  She looked a little disheveled, but still beautiful.  "Twenty-seven.  Does it matter?"

"Not really," she replied gently.  "I'll be thirty tomorrow.  You're my birthday present from me."

"Happy birthday, Andrea."

She smiled.  "Thank you.

"I think I'm going to have a shower," she said.  "Then we'll come back and have our kisses."

"All right," I told her, rocking back on my heels to give her room to stand.

"Get up," she said easily.  "You're coming with."

"You know what sucks most about all this?" I asked her as she adjusted the water flow and temperature.  "Under any other conditions, I'd really want to see you again.  Would you want that, I mean, if you were free to choose?"

"Are you fishing for something?" she laughed.  I realized that it was the first time I'd heard her laugh.  We'd had two rounds of pretty intense sex and only now had I heard her laugh.

"Not really.  It's just that, I don't know.  I think that there might be possibilities if it wasn't for your situation.  I was just wondering if you had the same sense."

She turned and took my hands in hers.  "We're going to share kisses, Peter.  We're standing here, naked and exposed to one another without guile or modesty having this conversation.  Doesn't that give you an indication?  What do you think?"

I nodded.  "How long do we have?"

"You ever hear the term Cinderella Liberty?  I knew a sailor once who had to be back to his ship by midnight.  They call it Cinderella Liberty.  I'll have to leave by eleven."

"And now we know that this thing," I said, "Will be only a memory thing."

"How about we don't focus on that, Peter?  Let's just focus on what we have right now."  She tugged my hand and pulled me under the warm spray, wrapped her arms around my neck and planted a searing kiss on my lips.

"One?" I asked when she released me.

"No.  These are extras, just because I want to."

She took one of the washcloths, soaped it up and began to rub it across my chest.  She swiped it across my left shoulder, then stopped.

"Well?" she said.  "You going to wash me?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I answered, stammering.  I reached for a second cloth, soaked it, soaped it and started with her shoulders. By this time, Andrea had managed to cover me with lather from my shoulder to my abdomen.

"The best thing about shower sex," she said in her business-like tone, "Is that you get to play with the tasty parts under the deception of washing them clean."  She grabbed my cock with the washcloth and rubbed vigorously.

"Tasty parts," I chuckled as I moved the cloth across her breasts.

Andrea looked at me and stopped rubbing my burgeoning cock.  She wrapped her cloth-covered hand around my scrotum, cradling my balls.

"You know what I think?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"I think you're cute," she stated, leaned forward, kissed me with one of her searing kisses, all the while caressing my sack.

"Cute," I repeated when she backed off a bit.  "Cute?"

She stayed close, her lips just barely touching mine as she spoke.  "Yeah," she whispered.  "Cute, sweet, considerate, gentle, tender..."

"And vulnerable?"

A light kiss on my lips landed before she answered.  "Don't focus on what we can't have.  Focus on what we do have right here and now."  Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it over the sound of the spray.

I sighed.  "So, if conditions were different, would we have another tryst.  Would we get together again?"

"Yes, Peter, we would definitely get together again."

"It's hard," I whispered to her.

"I know, baby," she responded, her hand moving back to my firming rod.  "I can feel it.  But you haven't finished.  You need to wash my pussy so it's fresh and clean for you."

I moved my hand down between her legs and swished the washcloth back and forth several times.  Andrea clung to me and held onto my prick firmly.

"I loved how you fucked me," she said into my mouth, "Even the spanking, which would normally incense me."

"Don't use that word, Andrea," I chided her.

"I can use it.  You can't.  You'll lose context."

"Why?  Because I want this to continue?  Because I want to see if I can love you and if you will love me?"

"Exactly," she said, tears welling in her eyes.  "Please don't make this more difficult than it already is."

"All right," I whispered into her mouth.  "I surrender.  I'm yours.  So, give me what you will.  I'll take it and try to be happy."

"That's the best way to approach it, my darling," she whispered.  "We'll belong to each other for tonight.  So, how about let's move you inside me?"

"Really?" I asked.  "I was hoping to get another chance to kiss and lick it."

"Oh, my!" she moaned in my ear.  "That's making me hot.  You can wash it again when we're through."

I eased my hands under her backside and lifted until my hardness pressed against her nether lips.

"Just there," she moaned.

Gently easing her down, she absorbed my hardness.  She gripped my shoulders firmly.

"How's that?" I asked her.

"You feel so good inside me," she replied.  "But how are we going to...oh!"

Holding her tightly, I plunged myself into her while pressing her into the tiles of the wall.

"You wanted shower sex," I growled into the flesh of her neck.

"Can you keep it going like this?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.  "Don't let me fall."

"Hold tight to me and I'll do the same with you."

Her legs wrapped around me and I held her up while pounding into her.  

Andrea moaned, crooned and whined with each stroke.  Her whines became whimpers as she drew close to her orgasm.  The warm water cascaded over us as we pushed against each other, each driving the other toward the ultimate conclusion.

"Oh, fuck, Peter!" Andrea cried out.  "You're doing it to me!  I'm already there!  Don't drop me!"

"I won't drop you, darling," I groaned.

Her grunts matched my thrusts of penetration until she began to wail her conclusion.  She wrapped her arms tightly around my shoulders and held me to her as her orgasm crested.  Again, as before, I could feel the pulsations as her love canal seemed to compress and release around me in an attempt to gather more that I was able to offer.

"Come for me, Peter, come for me!" she pleaded.  "Come in me.  Fill me.  I need to feel you inside me!"

"Close," I growled.  "Just a few more..."

Four more thrusts and my dam burst.  I flooded Andrea with the pent-up lust I had for her.

"Oh, god!" she wailed.  "I love feeling your come inside me.  I love how you fuck me; how we fuck together.  Hold me tight, my love.  Hold me."

I held her until we were both spent and gasping.  She unwrapped her legs and I allowed her to slip to a standing position on the floor.  My shrinking cock eased out of her and we stood under the cascade of water just looking at each other.

"I'm sorry I said all those things, Peter," she whispered, touching her lips gently to mine.  "I guess I lost control."

I kissed her back, tenderly.  "I understand.  Passion of the moment."

She grabbed a washcloth and brushed it rapidly over her pussy then rinsed it under the spray.

"I hope you meant what you said, though," Andrea said, "About kissing and licking?"

"I meant it," I told her.

She tilted her head back under the spray and let the water sweep across her hair.  She gathered it into a tight wrap, twisted it until the water ran over her breasts in rivulets, then turned and shut off the shower.

"It will take hours for this to dry," she said fretfully.

"These places usually have a dryer provided," I reminded her as I toweled myself off.

"Well, that reduces it to about a half hour.  But, what will you do?  We can't talk because of the noise."

I nodded, as I brushed a droplet off her shoulder with my towel.  "I have an idea," I said.  "Let's see if you can bring the dryer into the bedroom."  I rummaged through the cabinets and drawers until I located the hair dryer.  The spiral cord was not attached, so I took it to the bedroom, located an AC outlet in the lamp base on the nightstand and plugged it in.

"There," I told her as she walked from the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel turban.

"Are you going to dry my hair?" she asked.

"Not this time," I said.  "Lay your towel here on the edge.  Now you lie across the bed on your back and drape your hair over the towel and the side of the bed.  Flip the switch, and dry your hair."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I am going to do everything I can to see that this is the most exhilarating hair-drying experience you ever had; one you will never forget."

"You're going to fuck me while I dry my hair?"

"Not a bad idea," I chuckled, "But not what I had in mind.  We may have to try that one day."

She looked at me suspiciously.  "What are you going to do?" she asked succinctly.

"I'm going to do what I said I would do when we were in the shower.  I'm going to kiss you, and lick you, and suck you for however long it takes."

She crawled onto the bed, spread the towel, lay down and draped her hair over the edge.

"Like this?"

I nodded and handed her the dryer.  "Low power is toward the cord.  High power toward the body.  You get to choose."  I walked around to the opposite side of the bed and crawled on, spreading her legs as I moved toward her.

"You're serious?"

"It's a very pretty pussy, darling.  I'm going to love this almost as much as you.  I'm guessing four to six orgasms over the course of a half hour.  I start when you begin."

Andrea raised her knees and spread her legs.  I heard her switch the dryer on to what I presumed was low power.  I grinned, recognizing that low power would take longer. I lowered my head between her legs and planted my first, delicate kiss on the delightful feast spread before me.

The actual count was somewhere around six, although the nearly continuous climax near the end caused me to question the accuracy of my count.  All I knew for certain was that after about forty minutes Andrea shut off the dryer, pulled away from me, and with hazy eyes rolled me onto my back.

"Like the first time," she said breathlessly, straddling my hips and sinking down onto my erect member.

"Almost," I told her, "With one major difference."

"What?" she queried imperiously.

"This time when you come, I want your mouth over mine.  I want you to exhale your orgasm as you release it.  I won't block your breathing, but I want to inhale your climax."  I could feel the walls of her canal tighten on me as I told her.

"You want me to breathe my coming into your mouth?" she asked.  "I don't know what that is.  It is something so different; so intimate."

"It is.  Once I have it I can keep it forever."

She began to rock herself on me.  "Oh, my Peter.  What are you doing to me?"

I just smiled up at her as she rocked on my hardness, and reached for her perfect breasts and distended nipples.

When it came, Andrea leaned over me and put her hands on my shoulders.  Her open mouth descended on mine and I opened to receive her.

"Oh, god, Peter!  I'm coming," she gasped and I swallowed her words.

"Yes, baby," I whispered.  "Give me all of it."

She moaned and I inhaled.  I could tell she wanted to look at the ceiling, but my hands clasped behind her neck.  Only a portion of my cock remained inside her, but she moved on it urgently.

"Oh!" she gasped again and I inhaled.

"What do you want from me?" she panted.

"Everything, Andrea.  Let me have everything."

She wailed and pressed her lips hard against mine.  As she exhaled, I inhaled until she tightened up, held it for a moment, and then burst into my mouth with a huge groan.  I had it all.

She sat up astride me, panting and gasping.  She looked down at me with concern.

"You didn't come," she stated flatly.

"It's fine, Andrea.  I got what I wanted."

"But I want you to come."

"I will, my darling.  There's time."

"There isn't, Peter.  We have to stop this before it cascades out of control."

"Stop what?" I asked her.

"The little endearments.  The 'my loves' and 'my darlings'.  Peter, when I leave tonight, we can't ever be together again."

"So you've explained.  But, let me ask you this, Andrea.  How will they know?"

"Oh, god," she said ruefully.  "My phone is cloned.  They know every call I make and every incoming call I get.  They have private investigators that follow me with instructions to find out who I'm meeting and how long I stay.  I have no real privacy."

"And this is the life you choose?" I asked.

"I don't choose it, Peter.  It just happens to be that way."

"It doesn't have to be.  You can stop it in an instant."

The old Ashley returned.  "If I stop it I lose everything.  You know that."

"I don't, Andrea.  I know you think you'll lose things.  But, damnit woman, you are more than the things.  Where are your hopes and aspirations?  Where are your dreams, your talents, your abilities?  You get to keep those no matter what."

"You don't know me, Peter.  You don't know me at all.  How dare you judge me after, what, five, six hours together?"

I sighed, frustrated.  "I'm not judging you, Andrea.  I'm judging your choices; your behaviors; the decisions you're making.  They're not good decisions, Andrea.  They're hurting you and they're potentially hurting me."

"And that's all that matters, isn't it," she snapped at me.  "The possibility that you'll be hurt.  Don't think about how hurt I would be if I lost it all."

"Lost what, Andrea?  Clothes?  There's more clothes out there.  Hell, I'll buy you clothes, if that's what you want.  Cars?  You want a car?  I get you a car and you can go wherever you want.  A house?  Hell, I've got a house.  It isn't a mansion, but it's a damned nice house."

"Really?  You think so?  Well, let me tell you.  You can't afford my lifestyle, Peter.  It's not just any clothes, or any car, or any house.  They're mine and you can't afford them."

"Think about what you're sacrificing for this silly lifestyle."

"It isn't silly!"

"Fine.   Still, think about what you're giving up.  You're beautiful, intelligent, educated.  You used to want to be someone; someone special.  You had ambitions, goals and objectives, didn't you?  And you're sacrificing all of that just so you can be a trophy; some trinket in somebody else's toy box.  It makes me sick, Andrea, because all of your potential is wasted."

"None of my ambitions had anything to do with engaging in some vignette of a middle-class lifestyle in a suburban miasma of look-alike matchboxes.  What do you know about my ambitions, anyway?  You're starting to piss me off, Peter."

"Good!  Honest fucking emotion for a change.  But, you're right.  I don't have a clue about what your dreams or ambitions might have been.  Somehow, though, I don't think they involved being monitored twenty-four-seven, restricted from meeting or seeing somebody you care about, and threatened constantly that your treasure chest might be snatched away because you had an actual, real, emotional connection with somebody besides your husband's mafiosi.

"But the truth is, you should have realistic ambitions, goals and dreams for yourself based on what you can do and what you like.  The ambitions I would have for you are, first of all, freedom.  The freedom to come and go as you please, to see who you want whenever, and to pursue your goals and objectives to be the best Andrea you can be.  I want a relationship with you and I think you'd like it.  I'm not Croesus, but I'm not a pauper either.  You can have your fine things.  And I'd like you to be my trophy, Andrea, because of your smarts and your abilities.  You've got a doctorate.  You should be utilizing that training.  You'd be the hottest, most capable pharmacologist in the damn state.  And you're too smart to be locked away behind some guarded doors.  I'd fucking show you off to the world as the most creative and capable wife ever.  And I'd rip out that fucking implant and fuck you pregnant so you'd have the opportunity to be the most gorgeous, capable, caring and adoring wife and mother anybody could ever want.  You'd be the envy of everyone, not just your husband's cadre of thugs."

I paused to catch my breath.

"Are you finished?" she asked in a low voice.

"I don't know.  I guess.  I just want you to trust me, Andrea.  I promise I'll take care of you.  And, more than that, I'll let you be who you want to be."

"It is a fairytale, Peter."

"Would you please stop fucking calling me Peter?  Every time you call me that it reminds me that I'm just a dick to serve your needs.  I'm Stephen."

"No, you're my Peter.  It was my Peter who cared enough to make me a willing participant.  You didn't come here just to get laid.  With the others, I was just a fine piece of ass.  With Peter, I was more.  And whatever misplaced feelings I have, those are for Peter.  My Peter.

"As for the rest of your fairytale, do you realize you just told me you wanted me to be your wife and the mother of your children?  That's not reasonable.  The pharmacology stuff, well, that's a maybe.  Maybe I could become established and make a decent living doing it.

"You're right, though.  I have sacrificed whatever dreams and ambitions I may have had.  But I'm not the girl who runs away to join the circus or some utopian commune.  It is scary out there in the real world, Peter.  You just can't ask me to throw over everything and try for a fantasy over the course of a single afternoon."

"Do you think you could love me?"

"Don't do this," she urged.  "This is our one chance.  We can't go there."

"That sounds like a definite maybe."

"I can't, Peter.  There's too much at stake."

"So, I'm being unreasonable?" I asked her.

She nodded.  "I think you are.  I think you've let your infatuation overwhelm your good sense."

"And we've had our first fight."  It was more a statement than a question.

She leaned down and kissed me tenderly.  "We have, and in a rather unusual position.  I am, after all, still kneeling astride you with your lovely cock lodged inside me.  It should give you hope and encouragement."

"How's that?"

She sighed softly.  "Know that the arguments you made are the same ones that run constantly through my own mind.  But, until now, this afternoon, I've had nobody to voice them to me or with whom I could share them.

"I know it must seem that I am shallow to be concerned about the things that make up my life.  But, the truth is, I'm scared.  I'm always scared.  I know I have talents and abilities.  But getting established is hard to accomplish.  And, I always thought I'd have to go it alone.  I know I'm attractive enough that I could always draw somebody into my scheme, but they would be hangers-on, looking for the ultimate payoff.  Nobody ever cared enough to offer willing support out of a need to be caring and compassionate.  Now, I believe, I've found my knight in shining armor to believe in me, support me, and care for me just for the sake of love."

"You think that's me?" I asked.

"I want to believe that's you.  I'm not going to make any promises, Peter.  I'm going to leave at eleven tonight and descend back into my current existence.  But I will have this time we've shared together to remember and to consider.  Just believe that there's hope."

"What should I do?"

"Nothing.  Let's just be united in our shared memory of today."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why did you choose the name Ashley?"

"Oh, that's easy.  Ashley Madison, the hook-up site on the internet.  I thought it would be just another hook-up, so I chose Ashley."

"Makes sense."

"I didn't know you then," she said.

"It's all right," I told her.  "Do you know what happens after a fight?"

"Tell me."

"We make up.  Makeup sex."

"We never stopped having sex, Peter.  Even during the argument.  You're still inside me."

"Let me suggest we disengage, clean up, pull ourselves together, have a drink, maybe, and see what happens."

"You don't like me being on top?" she smirked at me.

"I love it when you're on top," I said with a grin.  "But, maybe we need a few minutes to reset."

Andrea leaned down and kissed me tenderly.  "You're not planning to run away now that you've professed your love for me, are you?"

"I've done nothing of the sort!" I told her.  "And, I'm not going to run away from you."

"You did," she claimed, her lips close to mine.  "You told me you wanted to marry me and raise a family with me."  She kissed me again.  "It's a lovely fantasy, but you can't deny you said it."

She eased off of me.  "More shower sex?" she asked, standing beside the bed.

"Just a clean-up, I think," I replied.  "You may not need it, but I'm pretty much exhausted, physically and emotionally."

"Yeah," she remarked.  "It's hard trying to cram a lifetime into a single afternoon.  Should I go first then?"

I nodded.  "Go ahead."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I answered.  "Rummage through your purse and see if there's anything in there I can use to blackmail you into breaking your contract."

"There isn't," she said flatly.  "Why don't you make the drinks?"

"Beam with a little water, right?"

"That would be lovely," she responded and stepped spritely into the bathroom.