Selena Sexton

Save the Night for Me

Chapter 1

Nina woke, disoriented, in a large, soft bed in a beautifully-appointed hotel room. She sat up and looked around, struggling to remember the night before. She was naked; her clothes from the day before were hung neatly over the back of a nearby chair, but she did not remember doing that. She was alone in the room; no sign of any companion. She stepped to the window and parted the heavy curtains a bit, looking out onto the city as morning light shone in. As she gazed upon the buildings below, she began to remember the prior evening…

Her meeting at the ad agency had run very late. Usually she liked brainstorming meetings at the beginning of an ad campaign, but this was a more stressful kind than usual, because her team had pitched their best ideas to the client that afternoon and every one had been soundly rejected, sending them back to the drawing board, literally. To make matters worse, the client had no clear vision of what he wanted, just apparently a strong sense of what he did not want, so they didn't have any guidelines within which to operate, other than trying to come up with different, creative ways to promote electric heating pads. Things had devolved down to having a talking mascot pad with an electrical cord tail when they finally decided to pack it in at ten o'clock at night.

After 7pm, there was only one train every hour from the city back to the suburbs, and she had just missed the 10; she would have to kill almost an hour before she could get the 11. Three of her coworkers were going to share a cab rather than wait; they offered to let her squeeze in, but that seemed uncomfortable. Her friend Melanie actually lived downtown and offered to let her crash, but Nina just wanted to go home, feed her fish and chill out in front of some late-night TV. Nothing personal, but she wanted to leave work and all things work-related, including her coworkers, alone for the night.

Nina walked toward the train station, gazing at various store displays, figuring that she would duck in somewhere for a quick bite to eat while she was waiting-there were a few restaurants farther down. She passed a building with a reflective surface and slowed down to take stock of herself. She thought she looked very tired, but overall not bad: her thick dark hair hung in shiny waves over her shoulders, setting off her pale skin and bright green eyes fringed with dark lashes.

And those bright red lips! She had tried a new lipstick that day that was supposed to last all day without smudging or fading, and she was pleased to see it was holding up well, still looking shiny and delicious, like a fresh juicy strawberry. She'd actually forgotten she was wearing it, so seeing how it looked out here in the lamplight, how it set off her dark hair and pale skin in a sexy and romantic way, was a pleasant surprise. She had wondered why the male passers-by seemed to be staring appreciatively. Otherwise she was not provocative in appearance; she was wearing a beige trench coat to ward off the evening mist, buttoned and belted over a simple black dress and stockings. A pair of black leather boots completed the ensemble. They were somewhat sexy, with a three-inch heel, but not outrageous. She could walk in them comfortably enough.

She heard someone clear his throat just behind her, and she turned, startled, to see a man approaching on the sidewalk. As he passed, they exchanged a glance that shot through her like a bolt of electricity; it was that sudden and powerful. He was unreasonably handsome, with thick dark hair, bright blue eyes ringed with dark lashes, a firm, chiseled jaw setting off full, sensual lips. He smiled at her, and his intense gaze made her weak. She was embarrassed at the strength of her reaction to this man, gorgeous as he was, and she was also embarrassed because she hadn't even noticed him in the reflection of the mirrored window-she must have really been staring at herself, she thought, blushing a little, self-consciously. She hadn't even heard his footsteps until after he'd cleared his throat and she'd snapped out of her reverie.

He kept walking, albeit somewhat slowly, and she watched him as she started walking again herself. He swung his arms loose and confidently at his sides, bearing no newspaper or briefcase, but he was dressed impeccably in a dark suit and a trench of his own, a grey one, that he wore unbelted. It billowed around him, somewhat cape like, as he strode down the street. She admired the breadth of his shoulders. He was tall-maybe about 6'2” or 6'3” and looked solidly built. She found herself fantasizing about him, picturing him turning as she approached, taking her suddenly by the arms and pushing her up against the wall, kissing her passionately as he pushed his body insistently against hers, pinning her helplessly as his hands wandered at will over her body, regardless of the stares of passersby…

She shook her head at the image, blushing at her wanton imagination. She had been attempting to keep up a long-distance relationship after Mark moved to Seattle, but it was halfhearted at best; they had been more comfortable than serious even before he left, anyway. She hadn't had a man's touch in a couple of months, and who knew the last time she had felt real desire? As she continued to walk behind the darkly handsome man, she became aware that her panties were moist with her arousal. She could use a night of hot, unrestrained sex…with a total stranger? What a thought.

The man ahead of her slowed and then turned to enter the bar at the upscale Hotel du Lac. He didn't seem to notice her when he turned in to the doorway, but she felt somehow tethered to him nonetheless; she slowed her pace a bit to make it a little less obvious, but she had no hesitation about going into the bar, as well. After all, isn't that precisely what she was going to do, anyway? She still had about 40 minutes to kill before the train departed, and it looked like a nice place. She had time for a couple drinks…maybe a little chat…

And what if he were meeting someone there? Well, Nina thought, what's the harm of going in to see what she could see? If someone else was on his schedule for the evening, so be it; she would have her drinks and get on her train like a good little girl. But, as she eased the large glass door with the brass fittings open, she thought about what t would be like to be a bad little girl, and she shivered with desire at the thought.

The place was only moderately busy, but she didn't see him. Perhaps he went to the rest room first, she thought, and she decided that might be a good plan for her, as well; she felt a little nervous, and it usually helped to pee. She went to the ladies' room, relieved herself, washed up and checked her hair and makeup in the mirror. She unbuttoned the trench and let it hang open, like his, showing off her graceful neck and pretty collarbones above the bateau neckline of her dress. After fluffing her hair a bit with her fingers and adding a quick spray of perfume, she ventured back out into the bar.

She still didn't see him; maybe he had continued though the bar into the hotel? That would have been a little odd, with the hotel entrance nearby, but maybe someone was waiting for him and they just hooked up and moved out. Well, that's that, she guessed; there were only a dozen or so people in the richly-appointed bar, and it was easy enough to see he wasn't among them. With a small sigh of disappointment, she approached the shining mahogany bar and prepared to order. The bartender was at the other end, but he noticed her and started to walk down to her.

As he approached, she began to open her mouth, ready to order, but he looked right past her, addressing someone to her side. “What can I get you?” She turned to see him, her handsome stranger, standing to her side at the bar. He addressed the bartender, but looked directly at her with a stunning smile. “Chivas and soda, with a twist, and the lady will have…?” His voice was warm and deep, with a hint of an accent. Eastern European?

“Bellini,” she breathed, lost in his eyes, not even pausing to question why this utter stranger would be buying her a drink without so much as an introduction. It just felt natural.

“I'm Tomas,” he said, extending his hand.

“Nina”, she responded. When she put her hand out for a shake, he gracefully caught it and raised it to his lips. His touch was electric to her; she was struck with an almost painful need for him as he gazed up at her through that fringe of black lashes. She wanted to be crushed to his chest, his hands wound in her hair, pulling her head back, controlling her. She felt herself flushing slightly and tried not to tremble.

There was some chitchat about his being in the city on business and her waiting on a train, but she barely remembered that; it was more about the ease and swiftness with which they found themselves upstairs in his hotel room, his removing and hanging their coats and his suit jacket up with some decorum, then simply surrendering to their desires. Still in the entryway to the room, He put her up against the wall in the exact way she had fantasized, crushing his body against hers with insistent need as he kissed her, sensually, teasingly, dancing the tip of his

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