For your psychological preparation, here is the interview-prompting story, "The Dark Room."
© 2009 by EllaRegina
It was like a game. I imagine that's why he responded. In truth, I didn't want him to see me.
The hotel room resembled a ship's cabin: portholes, blackout shades rendering them lightless; a bed topped by a floating white duvet cloud; dark, wood-paneled walls. I memorized the scene before extinguishing the lamps, sliding naked into cold sheets -- the linens pulled over my head -- waiting for the door scratch of his keycard.
As agreed, the least amount of hallway fluorescence was to spill into the room upon entering.
Something crackled and was placed on the floor. An electric fabric friction accompanied his unclothing.
We wouldn't speak, at least not with words. He rolled in next to me, his breathing audible and excited. We only kissed at first, belly-to-belly, arms around each other, a perfect fit. His tongue enwrapped mine, his erection a baton between us, as if it were a baguette kept piping hot by our holding it in this fashion; resultant emissions loud, primal and uninhibited. His cock filled me as we screeched, yelped and growled. When we came it was as if we'd done this countless times before.
He slipped away to the bathroom and in that moment forgot the rule of darkness. A tile-framed window illuminated a handsome face, smiling at me, happy with the view. Then, as I heard his stream meet porcelain and water I saw it, against the opposite wall: a cane -- black, white and red -- folded into a W.
Copyright 2009 EllaRegina. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without prior written permission from the author.
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