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Ragged skin hung at the edge of her right thumbnail where she chewed it off with imperfect teeth, only to pick at it again. The clock hands revealed that ten minutes remained ?til the hour, past the point where she could logistically back out. Even if she opened the hotel door and eased out into the hall, the odds were she would only just run into him. She couldn't hide and just not answer the door. He had a key waiting in the lobby. She picked at the cuticle on her right hand, with not quite steady fingers. She had planned this, initiated it even. There was no need to deny it. In the abstract, it had seemed very attractive, just the thing to distract and get even. Now with reality settling in, she wondered if she was just going to be hurting herself. Her teeth dug into the soft, yielding flesh of her cheek, giving just enough pain to focus. To ignore the tight squeeze in her core, the iron grip on her lungs and heart. She deliberately relived the painful images of that day that should have been her best, when she was betrayed by the man who had Maltepe Escort promised to forsake all others just hours before. She might never have known of his dalliance if she hadn't noticed the text on his phone screen later. Today she would return the favor, in her white clothes, just as he had worn his tux. The scrap of the card in the key slot at the door was harsh and loud in the still room. She cast her gaze about with wide eyes and muscles tensed to run, looking for a place to hide, while remaining rooted on slender heels to the carpet. She raised her chin and drew in a deep breath. The time for faltering had passed. The handle twisted down and the door swung in. She looked down through the haze, focusing on the tired shag of the carpet. The door clicked shut. His rich tenor was self assured. ?Hello?? Carpet muffled the sound of his footfalls ?Anna?? She raised blurry eyes to see him walking across the room, his eyes raking over her body, excitement evident in the quick steps. She nodded. It wasn't her real Maltepe Escort Bayan name, but was close enough without giving her identity away. His picture hadn't really done him justice. The eyes and hair were dark, but they hadn't caught the spark that glimmered in their golden depths, hinting at quick wit. The image certainly hadn't captured the lithe, cat-like way he moved on the balls of his feet. The nerves that rolled and cramped her gut slowly untwisted and relaxed their hold; her hands stopped trembling as she dropped them to her sides. ?Okay,? it was more question then statement. Rae-Ann nodded her head, the braided knot of her dark hair dancing. ?Good.? Calloused hands caught the edge of his shirt and hauled the dark cotton over his head, revealing work-hardened muscles, not flashy, rather the sort earned through honest sweat. He dropped the polo beside dark leather loafers, pulled the matching belt, springing the buckle, loosening the jeans to hang on bare hips. Rae-Ann slipped her tongue across Escort Maltepe dry lips, as she met his eyes. Her heels sunk into to the carpet as she crossed the room to him. Despite the blur from the tulle and lace that draped her face, she didn't miss the sharp breath he caught as she approached, or the way his jeans had twitched. She smiled for the first time, a hesitant thing that lifted the corners of her pink stained lips. He pushed his hand under the folded waist of his jeans and flexed, arm making slow jerks. She was close enough to touch him, softly grazing across his chest, over the flat bone at the center, then on to trace the prominence of the collarbones. His free hand was on her shoulder now, urging her down, but Rae-Ann ignored it, continuing her fingertip outline. His fingers dug into her shoulders and her vision rippled. This was a demand, not a request; she pushed back against it, resisting, unafraid. She was here at her own arrangement, and had his assurance that things would halt if she merely spoke the word. The insistent hand exerted more pressure, compelling her to drop in front of the growing bulge in his jeans. Her hands latched onto the folds of cloth at his hips, pulling on them as she sank down, teetering on those white heels. The denim hooked on his flank and tugged him forward so the fabric brushed her lips.