Maya stayed in her business attire in her hotel room—there was no expectation and as she had tasted the decadent food in the test kitchen, she knew she did not want the night to end. She would dream of the rosemary and sage pan-roasted chicken, if nothing else that night, as her great sensual experience.
A knock at her door indicated that Clive had arrived—with the bottle of the wine she had admired in the wine closet downstairs. A red blend that came from her home state of California.
“I want you to feel at home.” Clive mused.
“It is an experience, New York. I saw pictures, but I never imagined it would be like this. It’s amazing…” Maya mused.
“I never imagined I would meet such an elegant gourmand in my pop-up shop.”
Maya smiled, as he leaned in close to her. He smelt like sage.
His kiss was slow and soft—she could feel he wasn't rushing her. It was nice to go slow. Did he really smell like rosemary and sage or was she just anthropomorphizing the chicken?
Clive took his time, and it made her greedier for him, but she pulled from the patience that she had waiting in the line of the hot chocolate pop-up.
Their kissing got heavier, so much so that she curled on her side and brought him down to the mattress with her. His kisses remained greedy, but his fingers were even greedier, searching under her skirt. She wore a simple thong trimmed in lace, and he cupped her vulva through it. His warm fingers massaged her there, and she heard the tiny thwick of how wet she was as he massaged her.
Maya reached for him. He did not resist as she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his clavicle. He responded as if she had kissed him somewhere lower…
They started to wrestle on the bed and every time they turned someone lost a piece of clothing. Naked and panting, Maya knew that he knew she was ready for him. But she wanted to drag out her pleasure. She damn near came when he was just massaging her, so anything more would drive her over the edge.
A man, who savored food was always a good lover, and Clive was no exception. She wanted him inside of her.
When it was imminent—the sound of the condom wrapper louder than the bells outside on Fifth Avenue of various Santa Clauses—she stopped him as he entered that first little bit of her.
“Wait, I just want to savor you for a bit,” she said reaching for his hand behind her.
Clive stopped, but continued to caress her bottom. Maya loved the pleasure from that first intrusion inside of her. That first little bit on the threshold of her, like teasing a suitor at the door in the Victorian era.
But she wanted him the more she denied herself, and coming onto all fours she whispered a plea-filled command:
Clive filled her, and it was so good that she wanted to burst. She wanted every bit of him to almost go through her. He touched all of her sweet spots with every movement. On her knees, she knew that he would have easier access to her G-spot and he did not miss it. Like a bullseye, he found her spot and she went wild.
So wild she flailed and knocked over the unopened wine they had not gotten to because they were so busy talking.
They both laughed at the crash.
The next morning at the conference, there was an addition to the coffee and tea. Mayan hot chocolate. Maya took a sip and wished that she could take credit aloud for the hot chocolate that everyone was so delighted by.
Lunch was rosemary and sage chicken with potatoes. Later when Clive stopped by with a new bottle of wine, he grinned at her:
“Try not to break this bottle.”
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