Working the evening shift at a downtown hotel has its advantages. I mean, I get to meet all kinds of people. Families, business women, business men. I get to congratulate Newlyweds, smile at babies, and stroke a few egos. I'm cute enough to flirt, sweet enough that the old ladies tell their grandsons I'm a nice girl.

You know, the truth is I am a nice girl. Its not that I don't get
offers. You know, those guys who are out of town on business for weeks at a time. Some of ‘em married, some of ‘em with a girlfriend or a fiancee. Then there are the ones that just get the "Guest Services" title on my name tag confused with the girls that hang out on the corner around 2nd (if you know what I mean.)

I might flirt with a few of them, but I'd never so much as had a drink with one in two years. I'd turned down men with wicked smiles and veiled offers for sex or money or both...but then he walked into my hotel. He was gorgeous, but that wasn't it. I've turned down guys that would put Brad Pitt to shame. He had a quick smile, and an English accent, but that wasn't it either. I wouldn't go to bed with a guy just because the way he said my name caused that funny little shiver at the base of my spine. I'm not sure what it was that made me volunteer to take those
extra towels and pillows up to his room myself.

You know, now that I think about it, I think it was the way he looked at me. It wasn't all about sex, or not only about sex anyway. He kind of looked inside me. Like he knew me even though he'd never seen me before. That's happened to you before, right?

So anyway, my shift ends at 11 and he called down at 10:45 asking for towels and pillows. The housekeepers had gone home, and normally I would have waited for the night guy to get there, and send him up but this time I let Eddie, the night guy, take over the desk and went up myself. I caught myself checking my hair and my lipstick in the shiny chrome door of the elevator and then rolled my eyes. I mean what was I going to do, go up there and offer to sleep with him or something? I was just being friendly. That's it.

When I got to the 4th floor it took me forever to walk down the hall. I even considered leaving the towels outside his door and going down to the front desk to call him and let him know they were there.--I know, I was being silly, but you don't understand. Just watching this guy walk across my lobby made me want him— You know when your knees go a little week and those muscles between your legs tighten a little, just enough to make you blush when he says hi.

Finally I decided to just knock on his door and give him the damn
towels. I mean, I'm a professional. I should be able to handle it.
Right. He opened the door and smiled down at me, "Well hello there Michelle. I didn't expect you to bring the towels up yourself
sweetheart." I was sure he didn't give the endearment a thought, but the way it rolled right of his tongue, all English and proper, made me press my thighs together a little.

"Umm No problem Sir. I was on my way out anyway." (What a witty comeback huh? God I hate it that men can do that to me.) I was biting my bottom lip and feeling like a sixteen year old as he chuckled at me.

"You don't have to call me Sir, makes me feel bloody old. My name's Tony, and thanks for the towels."

"You're welcome...Tony." I gave him my most dazzling smile, the one usually reserved for old men who pat my hands and tell me I remind them of their wife when she was young, or the guy I'm about to take to bed after a month or so of dating and necking. His eyes sparkled. And it made me blush. What in the hell was I doing smiling at him and making his eyes sparkle like that....but God I couldn't help myself. I was leaning against the door frame by now, and he had opened the door wide enough for me to see where he'd tossed his jacket and tie onto the end of the bed. I tipped my head up, my auburn hair falling over my shoulders as I looked into his eyes and smiled at him again. "So do you find your room satisfactory....is there anything else I can do for you....before I leave I mean." I'd made my decision. I could see the way his eyes were traveling down the curve of my throat, into the V of my blouse.

He laughed again. "Why don't you come in for a minute, I'll pour you a bit of wine and see if there's anything else I need." I started to follow him into the room, but it was like I started to come to my senses. What was I doing...practically throwing myself at a stranger.

"I probably should go... I mean its late...you were probably going to bed." I blushed scarlet at that, my color only deepening when he laughed again. He had this laugh that sounded kind of like the way Brandy feels when it slides down your throat. Warm even when it settles in your stomach.

"Listen Sweetheart," He sat down next to me on the couch, handing me a glass of wine, toasting his glass to mine. "I could ask you to dinner, romance you, make you laugh." His finger stroked down my cheek as he said that last word, making me smile and look up at him again. "I know you don't know me and I don't know you, but I feel it....just like you feel it. So I'll make you a deal Chelle...do you mind if I call you Chelle? I'll take you to dinner because I want to...I'll romance you because you deserve that and so do I, and I'll make you laugh because I think I'd already do anything for that smile, but why don't you stay
tonight...because you want me, as much as I want you."

It was a line. I was sure of it....well pretty sure anyway, but who
cares if it was...I fell for it hook line and sinker. I was sighing
against his mouth as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, warm, gentle against mine, like he was exploring. I couldn't help it when my hands started wandering up his chest...I mean who could right?

I tipped my head back and he started trailing kisses down my throat, kissing that spot below my ear that makes my whole body shudder. "Tony...." I sighed his name and his hands tightened around my waist. Cupped my chin in his warm palm and brought my mouth to his again. Nibbling on my lips, teasing me with his tongue parting my lips stroking my tongue softly with his until I was answering the tender thrusts with my own.

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Have you ever been felt up...Over the panties...no bra...calvins in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?-- John Hughes