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I stepped back and turned her round. She was behaving very strangely and I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t inadvertently picked up a hooker.
‘Just hold on a second. You weren’t paid to be his “fiancé”, were you?’
‘You think I’m a prostitute.’ She didn’t look offended, just curious.
‘I don’t know, just checking.’
She studied me intensely, turned her back to me and lifted her hair again. ‘No, I’m not an escort. Zip.’
I hesitantly unzipped her slowly as she sighed impatiently, moving from foot to foot until I was done. When she dropped her dress, she looked heart-stoppingly gorgeous in matching ivory lingerie that accentuated her bare porcelain skin beautifully.
She pointed to the bed. ‘Sit.’
Good. I could use a breather. No sooner had I sat down than she was on me, taking off my jacket and undoing my shirt. I grabbed both her hands.
‘Wait. Just wait.’
‘Why?’
‘Things are moving a little fast. Can we talk?’
For the first time all night, she erupted with laughter.
‘You Brits are ridiculous. Did you think I was going to be some submissive, innocent, fetishized local that you were going to have your way with, and I’d be grateful and happy because you were foreign and handsome?’
It was getting weird. ‘No, I just want to get to know you, that’s all.’
‘Now that I’m here in my underwear, in your hotel room, you want to get to know me? Why didn’t you want to get to know me at the table? Instead of the cheap and ridiculous shelf and packaging metaphors intended to lead us here?’
‘If it was so ridiculous, then why did you fall for it?’ I laughed to lighten the tone.
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t “fall for it”. I was bored and I thought this sorry, foreign, broke misogynist might be good for some entertainment. So, are you?’
I remember thinking she was extraordinarily hot at that moment.
‘I think I just fell in love with you.’
She put her finger up. ‘That’s not allowed.’ She smiled and eased the tension.
I pulled her towards me. ‘I assume this is?’
I placed my lips on hers and she kissed me back provocatively. Neither of us went to sleep that night. She matched me move for move, kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust and climax for climax. She was wonderfully acerbic, challenging and hilarious as we caught our breath between sessions. By the time the sun came up, she knew everything about me and I still knew nothing about her.
At six, she sat up abruptly, made a quick phone call from bed and walked, unabashedly naked, into the shower. After twenty minutes, she emerged from the bathroom and I saw her face without make-up on. I was seized by panic – she looked worryingly young.
‘How old are you?’
‘I know, it’s annoying.’ She laughed.
There was a knock on the room door at the same time, so I rushed to get it.
A man dressed as a chauffeur handed over a large brown box. ‘Clothes,’ he explained.
She yelled at the man in what sounded like Mandarin from behind the door. He answered quietly and left. She grabbed the box, tore it open, tossed her towel on the floor, then put on some fresh underwear, some loose green trousers, a loose green V-neck top and some flats.
‘You work in a hospital?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled as she unceremoniously shoved last night’s dress and underwear into the box. This woman was clearly used to people cleaning and picking up after her.
