Blondie Rides Again

The heavy oak door of the Regent suite clicked shut behind them. Plush carpet and a low, seductive jazz hum from hidden speakers swallowed the sound. Blondie stood before him in silk that clung tight and shimmered in the candlelight. She'd turned the presidential suite into her own filthy boudoir. Vanilla and sandalwood candles flickered on every surface, their light licking the polished mahogany and throwing shadows that hinted at trouble. Lilies on the nightstand pumped their expensive scent into air already thick with want. A bottle of bubbly sat chilling in a silver bucket, beads of water sliding down its neck like sweat on skin. White silk sheets lay turned down on the bed, looking both inviting and dangerous. Blondie gave him a slow smile, eyes dark with heat, as she watched him take it all in. 'Figured we needed a proper stage,' she purred, fingers tugging the knot loose so the silk slid down her body. 'One that knows how to appreciate a really good ride.'