Page 4 of A Dom Vs. Domme Story
“Shit,” Ian mutters as I push him off and head to the door, hands smoothing down my clothes. At least he hadn’t ripped them off yet. He’s acquired a few more manners since we started dating a couple years ago. I don’t even have to use my safe word to get him to realize that, no, I really don’t want to have sex while someone is pounding on my front door while he thinks he’s getting the back.
I plaster a smile on my face as I open the door. Sure enough, there’s Ms. Isoya, the middle-aged woman who was more than happy to set us up in separate rooms in her hotel.
I know at some point she said she lived in the top floor of her building, but I wasn’t expecting to see her show up wearing a stylish Chinese silk robe wrapped around her toned body. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Ms. Isoya was stopping by for somethingelse, if you know what I mean. (Save me.)
“Guudo ebeningu!” I understand her fine after I have some time to think about it, but that is one thick accent she courts. From now on, I’ll spare you. “I trust that everything is… ah… how do you say… ah! Satisfactory?”
“Yes.” I purse my lips. Here’s hoping she doesn’t see the man lounging on the bed behind me. “Everything is fantastic here, Ms. Isoya.”
“Good! Good! Well, if you need anything, be sure to ring the front desk. I’ve left standing orders that whatever you desire is yours tonight. If we don’t have it, my night auditor will find it for you in this neighborhood.”
“Thank you.”
“Well!” Fujiko Isoya twists herself in circles as she thinks of something else to say. “I will leave you tonight. Please have a pleasant time in my paradise.”
“We sure will.”
“Tomorrow night my niece and I show you real fun in Japan. So sleep well, Ms. Alison.”
The soft click of a hotel room latching shut has never sounded so sweet until now.
“Ms. Alisoooonnn,” my boyfriend’s voice coos behind me. “Is everything satisfactooorrryyyy?”
To his credit, he’s not mimicking Ms. Isoya’s accent. He isn’t that rude.
“No.” I saunter back to the bed with a pout on my face. “I’m severely lacking in one of my rooms.”
“Rooms? Is that what we’re calling your vagina now?”
Only this man can yell vagina and not make me cringe. “You wanted an excuse to say vagina?”
“Vagina, vagina, vagina.” He opens his legs and motions like he’s flagging a plane for landing. “Penis, penis, penis?”
I roll my eyes before collapsing on the bed between his legs. “What beautiful harmony they live in together.”
He sits up and gazes down into my face. “So I hear we get whatever we want from room service. We should abuse that. With strawberries and whipped cream.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Babe.” Ian gently tugs on my long hair to get his point across. “Strawberries and whipped cream. In your rooms.”
Sometimes I’m not sure he thinks through what he says. Whatever. I end up laughing either way.
