“Come again for me.” His fingers squeezed my breasts, and I screamed as I felt myself experience the most intense orgasm of my life. “Yes, Lolita. Enjoy it.” He continued pounding into me and then he slowed. I felt his body shudder as he climaxed and then collapsed on top of me as he kissed my face and grunted.
He then rolled over onto his side and smiled as he ran his fingers over my lips. He stared at my face and I smiled at him shyly. I felt warm and cozy and full. I snuggled up next to him, wanting to feel and smell him next to me. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Any guy who could make me feel like this couldn’t be all that bad. I smiled at him with open and happy eyes, about to tell him that I thought I was wrong about him. I reached over and tenderly ran my fingers through his hair.
“That was worth every penny.” His eyes clouded over as he grinned at me, and I froze as I stared at him, not sure I had understood him properly.
“What?” I frowned.
“I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but I have to admit you were worth it. Do you take checks or is cash fine?”
My face flushed with anger and humiliation as I jumped up, horrified at his words. All thoughts of happiness and comfort disappeared right away. And then my stomach dropped when I realized that I didn’t know if he had worn a condom. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. I wanted to scream and shout at myself. The one time I don’t listen to myself, I fuck up.
“Did you wear a condom?” I whispered as I pulled on the t-shirt on the floor.
“Of course not. You told me it was okay!” His eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “Or are you a gold-digging whore who is trying to trap me with a baby?”
“I’m not a whore and I never said I was ...” I paused as I thought back to the moment he’d finally entered me.
He had said something and I had said yes, but I’d thought he was asking permission to make love to me. Now I realized he must have been asking me if I was on birth control. My body went cold as I realized that I had completely fucked up my first one-night stand.
“I’m leaving.”
“I can’t get seconds?” He jumped up and glared at me. “And what happened to your warm, loving ‘I just enjoyed every moment of you fucking me’ smile?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I ran into the bathroom to grab my clothes.
“Where are you going? You couldn’t get enough of me just a few minutes ago.”
“It’s morning.” I glared at him as I tried to brush back my disheveled hair. “I’m leaving now.”
“But I don’t even have cash.” He raised an arrogant eyebrow, and I wanted to slap him.
“Do you really think I’m a prostitute?” I stood there with arms folded and stared at him with a false casualness. “Not that I care, but do you really think that?”
“You were with your friend and my security guard last night in this room. You came back tonight with me. What am I supposed to think?”
“Whatever.” I shook my head and walked towards the door. “Think what you want. I don’t care. I’ll never see you again and I couldn’t be happier.” I ran out the door and kept going, even though he called out my name with an apologetic tone.
I felt like a damn fool. I always had bad luck picking guys, and it seemed like my cycle hadn’t ended just because I was now in Europe. I ran through the hotel lobby as quickly as possible. This time, I didn’t saunter through and eagerly stare at the opulent decorations and post-Modernist art. All I wanted to do was go home and cry and then eat some ice cream.
I stood in the high street and panicked for a moment, wondering how I had just let that happen. I took one last look at the hotel and shivered as I imagined Xavier looking down at me from one of the windows.
Never again, I told myself as I walked to the bus stop, shivering in the cold, even though it was late summer. I was never going to get drunk and attempt to have a one-night stand again. My self-esteem and self-respect were worth more than that. Even if it was with a man as sexy as Xavier. Especially if it’s with a man like Xavier, I thought to myself as I jumped onto the bus.
***
His View
There was something about Lola that was different from other girls. I’m not sure why I was surprised. I’d noticed a special quality in her from the moment I’d seen her enter the room at the museum. She had an air about her that made me want to get to know her better. There were several times in the day that I just found myself staring at her, wondering what her story was. Who she was? I wanted to get to know her better. I wanted to know why she was at the museum. Did she love art as much as I did? I wanted to touch her and hold her. I enjoyed watching her. And I hated that I enjoyed it.