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[Side Fiction] New York Nights

Ravi FitzCoventry

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Roughly three months before the Gala...

The Male Room existed within that curious niche between classy nightspot and sleazy den of iniquity.  The woman who owned it, a thrice-married Tennessee heiress who, in her own words, wanted to end her days ‘like a female Hugh Hefner’ had spared no expense renovating, decorating and staffing the place.  Adapted from a disused post office, as the name suggested, the establishment boasted a conspicuously official aesthetic: the bartenders and drinks servers were dressed in a tight pseudo-postal service uniform of short-sleeved shirt and shorts, the bar itself looked like an old-fashioned post-office counter, with each tender having their own ‘window’ through which they would take orders and serve customers, and the MC frequently made post related jokes when introducing the acts.  The place was clean, the service was good, the clientele was loud and enthusiastic but also up-market, and the drinks were amazing.

What gave it the air of iniquity was that the aforementioned acts were male strippers - or ‘exotic dancers’ if one preferred the euphemism.  Which perhaps explained the sometimes raucous reaction of the customers, predominantly female, ranging from college girls out on a lark to more mature women looking for an opportunity to escape the tedium of their everyday lives, projecting their fantasies onto the various well-built, handsome and athletic men who were wholly unlike their surly, work-and-sports-obsessed husbands (or in some cases, ex-husbands).  The waiters, also selected for their attractiveness and easy smiles, caught their fair share of tips and attention as well, now and then having to gently remind the more ardent customers that hands were for tipping, not for grabbing.

Private dances could also be booked for single women or small groups, offering interested clientele the option of greater discretion and more personal attention.  The rules were the same, of course: groping was kept to a minimum, hands off meant hands off, full nudity was out, and the men were dancers, not prostitutes.  The Male Room’s management was very conscious of New York’s laws about such things.


Certain women, and more rarely men, who were in the know, who were rich and discreet and vetted by the owner herself, might learn that certain of the dancers could be... amenable to other arrangements.  Nothing to do with the club.  What passed between consenting individuals off club premises was none of the management’s business, to be sure.  The ‘First Class’ membership was only offered to a select few, and those few never told a soul without first clearing it with the owner, whereupon said soul might likewise be offered such a membership.

Ravi strutted off the stage to the accompaniment of screams and calls for him to come back, a wide grin on his perspiration-drenched features as he caught a towel tossed to him by the MC, who clapped him on the shoulder.  “Good job, kiddo.  They’re gonna need mops and buckets out there.  Best Friday crowd we’ve had in awhile.  Keep it up, and I’ll talk to the boss about getting you a headline slot.”  He grinned, showing several gold teeth, and headed past Ravi up the steps back onto the stage, lifting the mic to his mouth and straining to be heard over the crowd.

“Now did Ravi deliver, or did he dee-liiiv-errrr?” his voice boomed as Ravi moved back towards the dressing rooms, passing the next dancer with a smile and a nod.  Headline slot meant more pay, better cut of the tips, and more exposure.  Sure, the spot would probably be on a slower night of the week, at least to start with, but the disgraced scion of English nobility found that he enjoyed the job.  He liked the hunger he evoked, and the admiration, and the women… yes, indeed, the women.  He just generally liked women, always had- and they liked him, or at the very worst hated the fact that they liked him, which was always amusing in itself.

One of the staff was waiting for him as he entered the dressing rooms, a middle-aged man named Karl who acted as maitre-de for the club, and as such got to wear a more formal jacket and pants rather than the tight shorts and shirt of the others.  As Ravi headed for the shower, the older man barred his path.  “Hey, Ravi.  Good show tonight.” he said conversationally, eyes flicking round to ensure nobody was listening.

“Thanks.”  Ravi stopped, realising why Karl was there, and felt a smile growing on his lips.  This would either be a private dance request… or a First Class request.  Either meant money, and in the latter case, sex.  Satisfied they were alone, Karl leaned closer.

“Money wants a First Class.”  The maitre-de informed him conspiratorially.

“How’s she look?”  Ravi asked casually, grabbing a fresh towel and tossing the sweat-soaked one into the hamper.

“Rich.  Hot.  Divorced or cheated on, if I’m any judge.  First timer.”  Karl said with the authority of a man who’d been doing this job for a while.  “Could be a golden ticket if you play it right, m’man.”

“Tell her I’ll be right there.”  Ravi nodded, starting past him.

“Said she wanted to meet you before you shower.”  Karl’s voice stopped him.  Ravi looked back, quizzically.  Sure, it could be said possessed a certain... primitive allure as he was, with his hair hanging lank, skin glistening with perspiration, but it was nothing compared to when he’d cleaned up.  Karl shrugged, and Ravi did likewise.

“Fine, then.”  he said, tossing the towel back on the pile.  “Which room?”

“Sorting Room.”  Karl replied, referring to the sign above the door of the space in question.

When Ravi entered the Sorting Room a couple of minutes later and closed the door quietly behind him, the booming bustle of the club dropped away and all that remained was a muted, muffled thump from the bass beats of the next act’s music. Inside, the walls and ceiling were mirrored, a low circular stage in the center of the room surrounded by comfortable couch seating that, with the soft lighting and the distant throb of the music, lent the room an atmosphere of sensual intimacy.

The ‘Joan’ sat across from the door, a flute of champagne in one manicured hand and an open bottle in an ice bucket next to her.  Stepping more fully into the room so she could see him, Ravi studied her, noting the stylishly done-up red hair, the short leaf-green dress with its plunging neckline and matching heels and purse.  Her makeup was flawless, her skin naturally pale and needing little in the way of enhancement, her grey eyes luminous in the dim lights.  He judged her to be perhaps thirty, though she could be a well-preserved forty; if so the years had been kind to her, for she was still beautiful.  It was around the clear grey of her eyes that the first cracks appeared in her veneer of classy calm.  The whites were slightly reddened, the mascara faintly smudged, as if she had ruined it with crying, wiped away the mess, then reapplied it over damp skin.  Ravi stepped closer still, looking down at her as she let her gaze travel up his body, lingering for a moment at waist level before moving upwards, taking in the long dark hair hanging lank around his chiselled features before, finally, meeting his eyes.

She drew in a breath that quivered softly as their eyes met, the glass in her hand trembling faintly as she drank from it, still looking into the green-gold pools of his gaze.  Her tongue moistened her lips before she spoke.

“Your eyes… are they real?” quavered a soft voice hesitantly, educated, composed despite the tremor it carried.

“As real as yours.”  Ravi replied softly, noting the almost timid way she looked at him, her eyes darting away from his before being drawn inevitably back into his gaze.  She was nervous, that much was obvious.  This was not something she had done before.  He sat down on the edge of the low stage, facing her, and waited.

“I…  I saw you dance.” she said in a rush.  “Two nights ago, I mean.  Not tonight.  And I asked if you were available for… for…”

“First Class service?”  Ravi supplied, smiling a little as a flush rose in the pale cheeks and her eyes dipped demurely.  He let his own gaze wander down the faint blush of her throat and the pale cream of her bosom, noting the gold crucifix on a chain around her neck.  Idly, he wondered how religious she was, and whether that was behind her reticence as much as anything else.

“I need…  My friends say I need a...  To…”  She paused as he raised a hand, then slipped from his seat and went down on one knee before her, leaning forward to look her in the eye as he took her free hand in both of his.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”  he said softly, his voice smooth and low.  “Not if you don’t want to.  Just tell me where you would like to meet me.”  He gently caressed the back of her hand with his fingertips.

“My apartment.” she answered, her eyes shining as they met his, her expression somewhere between grateful, excited and fearful.  “It’s downtown.  Here.”  Reluctantly disentangling her hand from his, she reached into her purse and produced a card.  It was floral patterned, a name, number and street address embossed on the card.

“Sienna Walker.”  Ravi read from the card, looking up to meet her eyes as she shook her head.

“No, it’s Hall, now.  Uh… My husband - ex husband’s name was Walker.  I need to get more cards made.”  she was babbling now, and Ravi once more took her hand in his.

“Hall is better.”  he said with another soft smile.  “May I call you Sienna, though?”

“Oh, yes.”  she breathed, then blushed as she realised her tone of longing.  “I mean, it seems fine, given you… I mean I… We will..”

“Be spending an evening in each other’s company, with no expectations of anything other than enjoyment.”  Ravi finished for her, seeing her relax a little at his words as she looked into his eyes once more.  “Whether that is a glass of wine and some conversation, or… other things is entirely up to you, Sienna.”

She blushed just the tiniest bit at the mention of other things, but nodded.  Ravi smiled, then brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles before letting it slide from his fingers as he stood.

“Finish your glass of champagne.  It is very good here.” he told her as though he were not mostly naked before her, as though they were dining together in a fine restaurant rather than he being a gigolo she had just solicited.  He gave her another dazzling smile.  “I will see you later, Sienna.”

She was watching him as he left, he could tell.  He could feel her eyes, full of that mixture of timidity and hunger, scoring the lines of his form.  He wondered if she would go through with the full transaction, or whether she would back out.  Either way, she was beautiful and plainly in need of some manner of positive male company.  Humming to himself, he went to shower and change.

 = = = = = =

“This was a mistake.”  Sienna said, as much to herself as to the handsome young man at the window.  Ravi turned from the view over Central Park, studying the woman intently with one eyebrow raised.  She still wore her coat, hands clasped as she stood by the lounge’s built-in bar, fingers twining nervously around each other.  She wasn’t looking at him - hadn’t looked at him the whole taxi ride here, in fact.  Nor had she said more than two words to him, despite him trying to draw her into conversation.  They had hurried through the lobby of her expensive apartment building almost as though she was frightened to be seen, and the elevator ride up had been silent and tense - at least on her part.  She’d ushered him into the apartment with a murmured “Come in.” - so make that four words - and then turned on some dim overhead lights and headed straight for the small bar in one corner.  Whereupon she’d just… frozen as he admired the view - incidentally also watching her reflection in the glass.

“Why?”  he asked bluntly, wandering away from the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window that offered such a spectacular view and approaching her.

“I don’t… I’m not this kind of person.”  she said finally, glancing at him fleetingly as he came to lean against the bar, just out of arm's reach.

“What kind of person?”  Ravi asked in the same straightforward manner, his voice soft, watching rose suffuse her pale cheeks.

“The kind that…”  she hesitated, anguish twisting her pretty mouth.

“Likes men?”  Ravi supplied, smiling slightly at the shock that replaced her nervous anguish as she stared at him.

“No!  I meant-”

“So you don’t like sex?”  Now the flush turned angry-embarrassed rather than mortified, her grey eyes sharpening as they stared at him.  “I mean, we can always play Scrabble.” he went on with an insouciant grin.  “It’s your dime, as they say over here.”

“I mean I’m not the type of woman who solicits fucking gigolos!”  she snapped, eyes flashing now as anger overtook her nervousness.  Ravi took a moment to savor the change in her manner, noting how she’d stopped wringing her hands and was straightening up, glaring at him almost imperiously.  A formidable woman, when she wasn’t doubting herself.  He nodded as though considering something.

“So… What other kinds of gigolos are there?” he asked, still leaning casually against the bar.

For a moment, she just stared.  Then she started to laugh helplessly, her emotions whipsawing from shame to anger to mirth.  She rested her hands on the bar, head lowered as she laughed, until her shoulders shook from more than laughter, and sobs mingled with her giggles.

At that Ravi stepped forward, sliding his arms around her and pulling her into a hug, feeling her stiffen at first, then relax against him, burying her face against his shirt as she wept for what, he surmised, was likely not the first or even the second time tonight.  Her hands clung to his shoulders, trembling a little with her sobbing, as whatever poison was in Sienna’s soul was flushed out with the salt of her tears.

“I’m sorry.”  she murmured into his shirt, sniffling as her composure started to return. She straightened, futilely attempting to smooth the tear and makeup streaked cotton before looking up to meet his amber gaze.

“Don’t be.”  he replied, smiling slightly.  “It looked like you needed that.”

“I did.” she confessed with a small laugh, then another sniff.  “And now I need a drink.”  she said, mindful of the fact he was still holding her close, and that she had just embarrassed herself.  He let his arms slip from around her as she stepped away, nodding as he took a step back himself, resuming leaning against the counter and watching her.  She removed her coat, feeling his gaze but not looking at him as she dumped it on one of the stools, before moving around behind the bar’s counter.  “I’m having bourbon.”  she told him, grabbing the bottle and a glass.  “You?”

“I shall be guided by the lady.”  Ravi replied, causing her to smile as she got another tumbler, pouring a generous measure into each before sliding one towards him.  Lifting her own glass, she clinked it against his and wordlessly tossed back half of the contents as Ravi sipped, both of them feeling the warmth of the liquor move through them.  Sienna topped up her drink, then relaxed somewhat, leaning against the other side of the counter from Ravi, watching him watch her.

“What?” she asked, feeling heat in her cheeks at his stare and hiding it with another sip from her glass.

“How long?”  At her blank look, he held up the ring finger on his left hand and waggled it, nodding towards her own hand holding the tumbler.  Sienna glanced down at the band of pale skin marking where, some might say, the best years of her life had been wasted.

She wasn’t so sure.  Marriage to Tom Walker hadn’t been terrible - indeed, if it had she’d likely not be so distraught.  She’d met him right out of college whilst interning at a merchant bank where he was a junior accounts manager, just a few years older than herself.  They’d become work-friends, then friend-friends, then he’d asked her out, and for the first few years everything had been great.  His rise in the office hierarchy had been meteoric, his keen head for figures and ability to shake the right hands and close the right deals contributing to that, and when they’d decided to have their first child he’d been very firm that whilst Sienna absolutely could keep working, his preference was for her to look after herself, the baby and the home.  After some thought and discussion, she’d agreed, and hadn’t really regretted it.

“How long married, or how long divorced?”  she asked bluntly, her voice feeling raw in her throat, fingers tightening on the glass in her hand.

“Yes.”  Ravi shrugged, still watching her.  She gave out a snort of laughter.

Together, her and Tom had had a lovely daughter, who went to the best schools and was currently at Stanford… and then, almost twenty two years after marrying Tom, Sienna had found out about the affair.  Affairs, plural.  And after confronting her husband, she discovered that the affairs had started about the time she became a mother.  And the why… the why burned in her soul.

“Twenty one years, and four months.”  She said, refilling her glass and taking another swallow of the fiery liquor.

“He cheated.”  It wasn’t a question.  Sienna nodded, and Ravi echoed the nod more slowly.  “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.  So am I.”  She propped herself against the counter, leaning closer to him, watching the play of light in his yellow-green eyes.  “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked, changing the inflection and emphasis of the question slightly.  She smiled a little.

“Is your name really Ravi?”

“Absolutely.”  A smile, a sip of his drink.  She watched his lips as he tasted the bourbon.

“Is the accent real?”  She asked challengingly. Focus on him.  Focus on something that didn’t hurt.  The warmth from the bourbon in her stomach was mingling with a different warmth.  He was beautiful without being effeminate.  His voice was soft, but resonated with some manner of purring subharmonic.  He was watching her, but not dispassionately.  Showered and dressed in well-fitting, classy clothes, he looked nothing like a stripper.  He looked elegant, but the memory of him covered in perspiration, his hair lank with sweat following the sinuous, stretching dance he’d performed was seared in her mind’s eye.  That, she felt intuitively, was the real man.  The elegance, the urbanity, was an overlay atop something primal and raw.  Something dangerous.

“As real as my eyes, and the rest of me.”  he answered with a flash of a grin.

“You don’t look English.  I mean-” she flushed a little but continued.  “You look…”  she gestured with her fingertips.

“Exotic?”  Ravi suggested.  As she nodded, he shrugged.  “I come from a mixed bag.”

“You sound educated. Why do you work as a-  Well, why do you do this work?”

“You sound educated too.  Why did you solicit me?”  He answered calmly.

“I asked first.”  she riposted.

“Because I like to show off, I like women, and it would utterly shock and disgrace my family if they knew - or cared.”  Ravi replied, smirking slightly.  “Now you.”

She hadn’t been expecting an answer, at least not a real one, and it threw her off balance for a moment.  She took a sip of her bourbon, grey eyes watching him over the rim of the glass, then as the glass lowered she shrugged.  “All my male friends are Tom’s friends too.  And…  I don’t want a relationship, not yet.  But I do want… or need… to feel-”  she hesitated under that gaze, feeling her cheeks crimsoning.  “Desired.” she said through suddenly dry lips.

He didn’t answer for a moment, and then slowly put down his tumbler.  Sienna’s eyes followed it, then flicked back up to his face as he straightened from his repose.  She felt her heart thudding against her ribcage like the flutter of a trapped bird under the weight of his gaze.  There was gentleness there for sure in his expression, but there was also hunger lurking in the golden pools of his eyes, something entirely carnal.  She found herself straightening up also from where she was leaning over the bar counter, very aware of herself, her body, in that moment.

Ravi half-turned, holding his hand out towards her as he took a step away from the bar.  He said nothing, simply watching her expectantly, patiently.  Sienna’s glass made a soft click-clack sound as she set it down with a hand that trembled, and she took a breath before stepping around the counter, smoothing her dress nervously with her palms, before reaching out and taking his hand.  He drew her close, and she half-closed her eyes, face tilted upwards in expectation of a kiss, only to look down again as he guided her hand to his shoulder, then took her other hand in his before resting his free hand above her hip.

“Are we dancing?”  She blinked, looking up at his face.

“We are.” he smiled, moving closer so their bodies were nearly touching and swaying gently.  She could faintly smell his cologne, something woody, expensive if she was any judge, and could feel the heat of his body as an almost physical force pressing against her.

“There’s no music.”  she protested, laughing softly, a little drunk on bourbon and him as she met his eyes again, but her feet and waist picked up the rhythm of his swaying as she spoke.

"Is there not?”  came the reply as the hand on her waist slid around to the small of her back, drawing her even closer.  She sighed, breathing out and trying to calm that fluttering in her heart and relax against him.  Sienna rested her head against his collarbone and closed her eyes, feeling a steady drumbeat in her ears, and realised that her feet and his were moving in time with that steady cadence.  She wasn’t sure how much time was passing, only aware of how her heart was settling down - beating faster but not the panicky tremors of before.  She felt… safe?  Safe to be herself.  Opening her eyes once more, she glanced at the reflection of the two of them in the glass of the mirrored wall behind the bar.

Who was that woman, dancing with the tall elegant young man?  She didn’t look like a mature woman of over forty years, a mother and a jilted wife.  She didn’t look like the woman who, grim-faced and resolute, had gotten ready to go out tonight as though preparing for battle.  This woman had natural colour in her cheeks, her eyes sparkled in the dim lighting of the lounge.  She looked younger, less careworn somehow.  She looked...


A rush of heat accompanied that realisation, the nervousness of earlier replaced by an entirely different tension as she turned her face back up to regard Ravi.  The shame of earlier was gone.  She didn’t note his youth relative to her own in that moment.  She didn’t feel old at all.  She felt alive, eager… a hunger of her own rising to complement the glimmer of carnality in his own gaze.  She stopped swaying to the unheard music, her hands sliding up and over his shoulders, feeling the tumble of his long dark hair over her fingers as they traced up the back of his neck, pulling him down slightly.  Rising on her toes a fraction in her heels, her lips sought his.

The kiss was gentle at the outset, despite being underlaid with that same eager hunger each partner felt.  Lips moved against one another, tongues gently teased, and Sienna was deliciously aware of the hardness of the body under the clothes, of his hands roaming down the slice of bare back exposed by her dress, the fingertips toying up and down her spine, going lower each time.  With a muffled murmur she pressed herself even closer, mouth asking - no, demanding more from his, her small white teeth nibbling at his lip before she opened her lips wide against his in mute invitation.  His answering kiss drew the breath from her lungs and ignited fresh heat in her belly, something long dormant inside her uncoiling like lazy feline energy, becoming taut and predatory as it awakened.

With a gasp she broke the kiss almost roughly, her hands locked in his hair as she stared up at him, catching her breath.  Her mind spun, and she knew that this was her moment of decision.  Was it enough?  Was the interest, and the conversation, and the kindness of the handsome man enough?  Was the kiss that still tingled on her reddened lips enough?  Again she caught sight of her reflection.

No.  No it was not.  Not even nearly enough.  She stepped away, taking his hands in hers and tugging him along with her.  He resisted, just a little, forcing her to stop and look at him, to answer the question in his gaze.

“Yes.”  she murmured, nodding.  “Yes, I’m sure.”  Holding her gaze a moment longer, Ravi inclined his head and let her lead him to the bedroom.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Her fingers found the light switch as they entered the room, their footfalls muffled by the thick carpeting, and Sienna was acutely aware of Ravi’s hand in hers as the dim golden lamps illuminated the bed and furnishings, casting reflections on the glass of the wall-length window which, as in the lounge, overlooked the Park.  Despite her decision of moments ago, she was assailed by a seemingly nonsensical feeling of nervousness at the sight of the bed.  Her bed.  The bed she’d been sleeping alone in for months waiting for the divorce to finalise as lawyers dickered over portions of her life as though such things could be broken up into commodities.  A moment of clarity struck her, and Sienna recognised that she’d been alone in that bed longer even than that, in hindsight.  

Sure, Tom would come home late and slip between the sheets and give her a peck on the cheek, only to turn over and fall asleep while she lay awake, desperately wanting more than perfunctory touches, resenting the long hours she thought he was working even as she felt guilty and ashamed at her own selfishness.  After all, Tom was working for them, for her and their daughter, to provide a comfortable life. How could she resent him for that?  How could she bemoan that they only made love a scant handful of times a month when he was always so busy?

Of course, in the brutal ripping away of the deceit she now knew the reason he’d so often come home late, but curiously clean and freshly showered.  Now she knew why he hadn’t been interested in sex, and even on the few occasions they did do the deed he had been… curiously absent, as though performing a necessary chore, devoid of real fire or creativity.  And not for want of her trying, either.  She’d bought lingerie, toys, tried to seduce and distract him, tried to kindle some spark of carnal craving in her husband that had been present before the birth of their daughter and absent afterward.  But every time Tom had told her that he didn’t want her to act like that, that his wife and the mother of his child shouldn’t behave like a horny sorority girl.  All the while boffing some actual horny sorority girl - well, one of a number of interchangeable interns fresh out of college anyway, so near as made no difference.

That fucking hypocrite, playing the Puritan at home with her whilst playing rock star with some girl barely older than their daughter, Sienna fumed.  It wasn’t the first time she’d had that thought, but now, with Ravi there as a warm presence behind her as she stared at the bed, the thought had less sorrow and more of a savage disdain to it.  She looked over her shoulder at Ravi, seeing the warm glimmer of his golden eyes watching her steadily, and took a breath before speaking.

“Get comfortable.”  she told him, letting his hand slip from her fingers and stepping away from him, moving toward the window.  Bright points of light from outside pierced the veil of night as the City That Never Sleeps went about its business, the lights in those other buildings uncaring, impersonal eyes that stared sightlessly at her.  She reached for the cord that would draw the blinds closed, shutting out their cold gaze, only for a strong hand to close over hers, stilling its movement.

“Leave them open.”  Warm breath against her neck, just below her ear.  His voice a purr with a hint of growl - husky with his own need as lips caressed her skin - set off a molten cascade that made her draw breath in a small, shaky gasp as her eyes stared out of the window.  A hand slid around over her hip to her abdomen, pulling her gently yet firmly against the solid presence behind her even as the fingers of his other hand kept hold of her still outstretched wrist.  Sienna could see the outline of his sleekly handsome head over her shoulder in the reflection of the glass, twin sparks of golden wickedness gazing back at her as he trailed his lips along her bare shoulder, igniting a further rush of heat that unfurled like a night-blooming flower under his hand where it rested on her belly.

And now the lights of the buildings took on a different context.  No longer were they cold, impersonal, vacantly staring in at her.  Now the cityscape beyond the glass pane took on an almost feral context: an urban jungle, breathing and living around her, and the points of light the eyes of night-creatures as they watched with a hunger that matched the edge of a growl in Ravi’s voice as he nestled his cheek against hers, meeting her eyes once more in the window’s reflection.  “Leave them open.” he repeated in that low, compelling tone.  “And rest your hands on the glass.”

She leaned forward, feeling him lean forward with her, one hand guiding hers to the glass whilst his other kept her from stepping forward, forcing her to bend at the waist.  Sienna was hyper-aware of how this posture pressed her against him, feeling his hardness stirring against her rear like a hot coal on her skin. She placed her other hand up as well, looking out at the city light as Ravi let his hands roam up her torso, across her shoulders, down her back in slow, unhurried motions as though he were a cop, searching a suspect.  She shivered slightly at the possessive caress of his hands as they reached her ass, her eyes half-closing as she bit her lip to prevent a breathy sigh from becoming a needy moan.  By the time he found the side zipper to her dress, her insides were virtually liquid and her body was quivering.

The zipper sounded like something predatory, its voice a low snarl as the nimble fingers of her chosen paramour slowly tugged it down, his hand following the contours of her body closely on the other side matching the progress of the unfastening.  Strong, gentle hands guided the dress in its descent over the arch of Sienna’s hips, Ravi keeping up the firm caress of his touch until finally releasing his grasp and letting the cloth fall into a pool around her ankles.  Then he stepped back a pace, admiring the view, aware that she could see what he was doing in the reflection of the glass.  Sienna didn’t move, her breathing and heartbeat loud in her own ears, painfully aware of her vulnerability and yet unable to deny the attendant arousal such a condition caused as she watched him.  She’d worn black lacy strapless bra and panties in anticipation of them perhaps being seen, but had shied away from wearing the full garter belt and stockings that went with the set, instead electing to use stay-ups.  Fears and insecurities tempted her to drop her hands and turn around - what if he didn’t find her sexy?  What if he simply performed his paid-for task, without caring much one way or the other?

Then he stepped back in close, his hands smoothing over her hips then exploring her body without reserve as he leaned over her, and she felt that hardness against her flesh once more, unmistakable in its pure uncomplicated insistence.  A soft gasp escaped the woman’s lips as Ravi’s hands separated in their meandering, one heading upwards to glide over the lace fringe of her bra whilst the other dipped lower, toying with the waistband of her panties for only a moment before sliding under that waistband.  Sienna’s abdomen tightened as she gulped in a hasty breath, and then his fingers were trailing over her mound, going even lower and this time she really did moan, a soft low sound of pleasure and wanting.  His other hand dipped below the lace of her bra, his fingers gentle on her sensitive flesh, caressing the stiffness of her nipple attentively.  It almost tickled, but such was Sienna’s arousal that it was just another tantalising sensation that stoked her flames that much higher.  His lips brushed the nape of her neck, first one, then a second finger slipping between the now-soaking folds of her pussy with sudden insistence that caused a second, louder moan to turn into a gasp as the sensations overloaded her body.  Her legs shook, her hands almost dropping from their position of wanton surrender on the window pane, but some sensibility kept her upright as the impossibly handsome young man behind her played her body like a musician with an instrument.

She looked at her own wide eyes and parted lips in the mirror of the glass, superimposed as they were on the lights from outside.  Though the chance was slight, it still existed: that someone out there might see this flush-faced, panting woman arching her back and moving her hips alternately against the groin of the man behind him and against his probing, teasing fingers.  The thought of it sent a fresh wave of liquid heat coursing through her veins, a small ripple of her impending climax that caused her next moan to take on a throaty note of longing.

“Let’s get these out of the way.”  Ravi murmured against her ear before smoothly sliding her panties down to mid-thigh, his hands moving up and deftly unfastening the strapless bra.  It fell to the floor, the last vestige of Sienna’s modesty.  “Normally I’d draw this out more.”  the Englishman’s purring tones caressed her, right before he kissed her earlobe.  “But I can’t wait another moment.”

She stared at herself as his declaration of open unrestrained desire sent a fresh shiver through her form.  She didn’t recognise the woman in the reflection any more.  The hairstyle was the same elaborate coiffure, the face was familiar… but who was this wanton imposter?  Who was she, so vulnerable and yet feeling such power in the act as she offered herself in almost animal fashion to the man behind her.  There was a faint awareness of him moving - the sound of a belt unfastening, the whisper of cloth, the crinkle of a foil packet-

“No.”  she murmured, looking over her shoulder at him for the first time since she’d faced the window.  “Pills.”  she insisted, nodding towards the nightstand.  “Plan B.  You don’t need to-”  She saw him hesitate.

“It’s not a good idea.”  Ravi said warningly, his voice heavy with lust and reflecting his own conflicting urges.  “It’s not just about pregnancy.”

“Are you clean?”  she asked him bluntly, her grey eyes luminous as they fixed on his gaze.  Slowly, he nodded.  “I’ve been with no-one since Tom.  I got a checkup after the divorce to make sure.  I’m clean too.”  She held his gaze, seeing him hesitate, then her eyes dropped to his exposed proud arousal and her voice dropped to a whisper.  “Please.  I need it - to feel you, I mean.  Please.”  For a moment more he hesitated, then shrugged and dropped the packet next to his discarded pants.


She cried out as he entered her - not from pain, but from a sense of primal triumph and fulfillment as she felt herself enfold the heated steel of his cock.  This.  Yes.  This was what she wanted - the sensation she’d all but forgotten, that almost-violence of male desire.  His breath hissed in her ear, his length hilted itself in her welcoming body, and Sienna arched her back further and pushed against the window pane, forcing herself upon back upon him as he moved inside her.  The force of Ravi’s thrusts moved her, her breasts swinging slightly from the swaying of their bodies.  Let the damn city see!  She imagined Tom’s reaction if he could see the real her, that ‘the wife and mother of his children’ could also be so desirable that a man just over half her age couldn’t restrain himself from fucking her like this in full view of whoever walked by.  And then thoughts of the city, of Tom, of what the neighbours would think whirled away like leaves before a storm.

Ravi’s hands were on her hips, his breath coming in soft grunts against the skin of her shoulder as he thrust in her with increasing speed and force.  Sienna’s gasps became moans, her moans became cries, each one almost guttural as she felt him open her, over and over again, each time seeming to plumb yet another layer of her pleasure.  She was his client, but in that moment he was using her, satiating his desires on her with little in the way of tenderness or restraint.  And this was what she had wanted - to be wanted, to have a man unable to hold back.  She felt his teeth grip the skin of her shoulder and wailed, feeling his cock stiffen even further inside the spasming walls of her sex as her orgasm overtook her in a sudden tidal rush.

God fuck you fucking bastard don’t you fucking stooooop!”  Frustration, sadness, anger all mingled in the screamed invocation as she rolled her hips back against him insistently.  His identity was washed away in her delirium - she wasn’t screaming at Ravi.  She was screaming her release, screaming at the specter of Tom’s indifference and betrayal, screaming at her own fears that had held her back from this pleasure.  Lips that might, on a bad day, have previously muttered a restrained ‘Well, fuck’ now urged the faceless man gripping her hips with bruising force to fuck her harder, to fill her up, to never, ever, ever stop.  She heard him groan,a deep primal sound, and then a flood of warmth filled her and her head fell forward, her legs losing their strength, only Ravi’s hands keeping her upright as she quivered and shook through an earth-shattering climax.

She leaned on her hands against the cold glass, gasping softly in time with the pulsing of his cock as each tremor set off more aftershocks.  There was a sense of mournfulness in the moment for her as the ecstasy receded and her mind became her own again.  He was a gigolo, she reminded herself as she felt him slip from inside her.  He would leave now, and she would be alone in the apartment with only the memory of him to-

She felt his hands move on her, pulling her upright and back against his body, fingers gently grasping her chin and turning her head towards him as he kissed her deeply, then stroked the damp ends of her hair back where tendrils had escaped to plaster themselves to her sex-flushed face.  The kiss broke, and Sienna searched the glimmering golden eyes so close to hers questioningly, unresisting as Ravi bent and carefully picked her up in his arms, her hands going up and around his neck as she tried to process this unexpected development.

“You thought we were done?”  White teeth flashed in a wicked grin as Ravi started towards the bed with her.  “Lovely, that was just the business part of the evening.”  He laid her gently down, leaning over her, a bronzed statue gleaming with a sheen of perspiration.  “Just the business part.”  he repeated, lowered himself to lay beside her.  “Now I’m off the clock.”

His lips found hers again, his hands gently stroking down her neck and body and Sienna sighed into the kiss, her own hands coming up to grasp his shoulders as beyond the window the eyes of the city glowered and flickered in the New York night.

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