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She opens one eye and wrinkles her nose at me. "Not that I know of."
"Well, I'm here to tell you that you talk in your sleep."
"Good to know," she says, closing her eyes again and pretending to snore. The sound is loud and obnoxious, and I can't help but laugh.
"Totally sexy."
"Well, I don't need to be sexy now. I've already had you," she says.
"But don't you want me again?" I say, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. One eye opens again.
"Not right now. I'm sore."
"About that," I say as I run my fingers down her stomach in between her legs. I rub her clit lightly, and she gasps and opens the other eye.
"About what?" she says, looking at me.
"You weren't a virgin or anything, right?" I tease her slightly.
"No. Why would you say that?" She blinks at me.
"I don't know. Maybe because you were super tight and you were holding on to me like you couldn't believe how great I was."
"It's been a while," she says, "which I'm not going to apologize for, and…"
"And let me guess. I'm the best you've ever had."
She rolls her eyes. "I did not say that."
"You didn't have to say that." I laugh. "But the way you kept telling me, 'Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop,'" I say and laugh as she blushes, " told me everything I need to know."
"Well, you were the one that was…" She pauses. "Anyway, it was good. It was fun. I had fun."
"Good," I say. "And I suppose you want to ask me…"
"I don't want to ask you anything," she says, shaking her head. "I had a good night, Zeus, and I'm glad you did too and…"
"And what do you know about the New York Times?" I say, not able to resist. I need to know if she's a reporter, if this was a setup, and if I was fooled. She blushes, and that tells me everything I need to know. "You're a journalist?" I ask.
"No. I mean, I wouldn't say journalist. I…"
"Do you write articles for the newspaper?"
"I guess you could technically call them articles, but…"
"But nothing," I say, shaking my head. "You’ve got an hour and a half," I say.
"Huh?" She wrinkles her nose. "What do you mean?"
"I say you can sleep for another hour and a half, and then you can make me breakfast."
"What?" She’s obviously surprised by the change in my demeanor. "What are you talking about?"
"I've paid for this beautiful hotel room. I've given you the best sex of your life. I think the least you can do is make me breakfast in the morning."
"How am I going to make you breakfast in the morning? There’s not even a kitchen."
"Well, you look like a smart lady," I say, trying not to glare as she wrinkles her nose at me and pretends to be innocently confused. She has to know I'm onto her now.
