Mr. M always knows how to treat a woman. A decadent dinner, a perfectly chosen bottle of wine, and perhaps, if he’s feeling particularly indulgent, a little gift slipped across the table. A delicate box tied with ribbon, the glint of something exquisite inside. Chocolates, a bottle of perfume that lingers on my skin, maybe a lace set he’s hoping to see stretched across my curves later.

And I do love to indulge him in return.

A couple of cocktails in, and the conversation turns deliciously suggestive. He likes to tease, but I’m not one to let a man have all the power. My fingers brush his arm just enough to leave a thought lingering. I catch his gaze and hold it just a second longer than necessary. It’s a game we both enjoy, this slow build, this careful tension tightening between us.

By the time we step into the crisp night air, the anticipation is unbearable in the best way. Whether we slip into a black cab or take the scenic route back, every passing streetlight flickers over my bare legs, every accidental brush of our bodies makes my lips curve into a knowing smile.

The hotel is nothing short of indulgent, marble floors, velvet touches, a suite that whispers luxury in every detail. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, he knows the routine. Freshen up first, Mr. M, I say with a teasing tilt of my head. We both know things get much more fun when we’re squeaky clean.

While he’s in the bathroom, I disappear into mine, untying my dress and letting it slip to the floor in a hush of silk. The anticipation is my favourite part. Fastening my suspenders, smoothing my stockings up my legs, knowing that when I step back out, his gaze will darken in that way I adore.

And oh, does he appreciates the effort.

I take my time, letting him enjoy the view. The soft lace hugging my curves, the way my fingers slowly slide along the straps of my bra, drawing his attention exactly where I want it. His breath hitches. I hear it. Poor Mr. M… it must be torturous to just sit there and watch.

But then, piece by piece, I give him exactly what he’s been waiting for.

When there’s nothing left between us but heat and desire, we explore thoroughly, unapologetically. And after, as the city hums outside, we don’t rush to part ways. Instead, we lay there, skin against skin, talking about everything and nothing, laughing, teasing, letting the night stretch just a little longer.

Because with Mr. M, it’s never just a fleeting moment. It’s an experience. One he’ll be craving again the moment I walk out the door.