THE ONE-NIGHT STAND

"They were free drinks. Can you imagine that?" Roseline bickered, her cheeks flushed from the effect of the alcohol as she pushed her way into the room.

Mr. Thomas White, the CEO and largest shareholder of The Zone group of companies, the biggest franchise in London, just stood by the door, his eyes heavy with sleep.

He had had a meeting with an important client that evening, but just as he was about leaving the premises, he collided with an old friend and decided to converse over drinks.

By the time they were done, it was quite late. He had called his secretary to check his schedule for the next day and checked in the hotel after he had confirmed nothing needed his physical presence at the office until the next week.

He had taken an early bath and retired to bed earlier than usual. He was already deep in his sleep until the heavy banging on the door woke him.

He had hesitated for a second, knowing fully well the hotel would have called the landline if there was any information to pass.

But strangely enough, the knocking was persistent and bore a sense of urgency. 

He had, out of curiosity, clicked open the door to see a young woman that reeked heavily of alcohol dive unto him. 

Still trying to figure out how to handle the situation, Roseline had sluggishly let herself in the room like she had every right to, muttering gibberish about free drinks and a good time.

Alarmed at the young woman that had just barged into his hotel room at the time of the night, he swallowed hard to suit his patching throat.

"I need some water first", Thomas sighed, closing the door.

Then, he began walking straight to where the mini-fridge stood, his sight still blurry from the unfinished sleep plus the fact that his glasses were still on the bedside drawer.

But just as he reached for the fridge, he heard a loud crash against the hard floor and a shrill cry that followed it. 

Thomas froze in shock, his hand hanging mid-way.

"What was that?", his eyes widened as he turned towards the direction of the noise to see what had caused it.

There, Roseline stood, her back to the television high above the wall behind, the glass vase initially on the small round table in front of her, now shattered into bits on the floor.

"Are you okay?"Thomas rushed to where she stood, blood dripping from the middle finger of her left hand into the shards of clear glass.

"Oh My God", Thomas breathed out, grabbing her hand and staring closely at the pin-length deep cut at the side of the affected finger.

As he looked intently, his mind trying to figure out how to get her first aid at midnight, a drop of tear settled into the back of his palm.

Looking up at the face of the uninvited stranger, his hands trembled.

"Was she in that much pain?"

Roseline was crying profusely. Her red and puffy eyes coupled with the paleness of her face showed just how much sadness her heart was suffering.

"Okay. Give me a second", Thomas said, his tone soaked in concern as he moved swiftly to grab his phone.

Scrolling hurriedly until he got to the contact he was looking for, his finger clicked on the dial button even before his mind followed the process.

No response.

He breathed out heavily, then dialed again and again.

But for every dial, it rang repeatedly and ended without an answer.

"You love me, right?" Roseline spoke, her sentence muffled by the sobbing.

Thomas's heart skipped upon hearing her question.

Slowly, he turned to see her standing right behind him, hands dropped to her sides and the tears still streaming down her cheeks endlessly.

Thomas's heart began to pound uncontrollably in his chest.

Roseline watched him as he slipped away to the other side of the bed. 

Then grabbing something off the bedside table, he stood back upright, facing her.

Thomas clicked the glass case open, fishing out the thick spectacles. He wiped the lens carefully with the lens cleaner he had also taken out of the case.

Then, balancing the glasses on his face, he began walking towards her. Slowly. Like she was a prey and he, the hunter.

On reaching where she stood, he grabbed her face in his palms and, with his thumbs, wiped off the tears that had lined her cheeks.

"Tell me it was a dream", Roseline stammered, her breathing heavy.

Wrapping her hands around his waist, the fine material of his pant smooth against her skin, she stared into his eyes intently.

"I want to hear it. Tell me it was all a dream", she spoke again. This time, picking her words, one after the other, slowly. Carefully.

She was really close to him now with her nipples grazing lightly against his bare chest. His pulse, slowly rising and falling, slowly pressing back on her nipples and releasing them.

"Say it", Roseline repeated, moving her hands to his face, her cold palms meeting the hotness beneath his skin.

He looked up at her, his eyes strong and his gaze firm. His expression twisted into a mix of desire and uncertainty.

But then, he spoke.

Slowly.

One word.

Pause.

Next.

"It was all a dream"

In that instance, Roseline dived her mouth into his.

Returning her hands to his waist, she sucked on his tongue like it was her salvation.

He obeyed her every silent command, grabbing her hair with one hand and her neck with the other, his glasses creating some sort of friction between their faces.

They kissed ferociously for minutes, their bodies against each other like long-distance lovers meeting again for the first time in years, the flame of longing blazing in their hearts.

When his mind started to pay attention to the friction around that area of their faces, he had to withdraw to have space to pull the glasses from his face.

He had barely done that, when her hands slid into his pants and grabbed his cock. It was a sudden pleasure move that his body vibrated in response.

His glasses fell off his hands to the floor, and he grabbed her butts, burying her mouth in his.

The next thing, she dragged down his pants and, pushing him onto the bed, she climbed over him and, together, they maneuvered and explored for the rest of the night.