Your room

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Revision as of 09:57, 5 September 2011 by Mieliciosa (Talk | contribs)
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The journey back to your room, as any alcoholic should know, is a tough one when drunk, especially when you're expected to go down staircases and operate elevators, but nevertheless, you did it. You set yourself down on your bed and sigh at the soft feeling of the sheets. You're exhausted, drunk, and fed up. Your mind begins to drift and suddenly the sweet smell of vanilla floods your senses, the same scent that beautiful honey-coloured maid exhumed. At the thought of her, you begin to stir downstairs. You lay back on your bed and let your imagination go, and your body unwind.

You imagine her in all sorts of poses, naked, half-naked, at your feet, and in your bed. Every possible scenario runs through your mind. You quickly unbuckle your belt and pop open the button of your pants. As you go to unzip, a sweet voice calls out "Señor?". You grumble, disappointed, and get up to answer the door, trying carefully not to trip yourself up. You turn the knob and, speaking of the devil, the very same beautiful latin vixen stands at your door in her tight-fitting little uniform with a clean towel carefully folded in her hands. She stares at your glazed eyes, and your unbuttoned trousers, and excuses herself as she goes to leave but no, you don't want her to leave. You hold her arm and tell her it's OK. She walks into the room nervously and sets the towel down on your bed. You thank her kindly and apologise for the incident earlier. She smiles tentatively, and matches your gaze. She says it's fine and she's over it now. In fact she wanted to apologise for the way she acted. She invites you to come and sit down on the bed, and you do so.


Do you then:

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