Let's Make A Bet

Chapter Three

I sat, stewing in embarrassment. I had hoped to regain some power over the guy that had turned my brain to mush in the gallery but I had underestimated him. And underestimated how strong a hold he seemed to have over me. I took a gulp of my drink, waiting for the adrenaline to subside so that I could leave without stumbling, my legs still shaking.

"Shit!" Horrified, I realized that I was still sitting there exposed with my stockings around my knees hidden only by the table. He had left before I even had a chance to cover myself. No longer emboldened by his presence, I felt as if the eyes of every guest and staff were on me. But I had to admit, amongst the expected unsettling anxiety was a new sense of arousal. Despite myself, I closed my eyes and began to imagine him sitting there, smiling mischievously as I pleasured myself below the table. Hidden to everyone but the two of us.

I shook my head as if that would shake the thoughts away. I had to get a grip. As inconspicuously as possible I managed to pull up my tights and wipe up the mess I had left of the seat. Feeling confident that I was about to get away with the whole ordeal, I began to scoot myself to the edge of the booth only to catch my eye on the room key.

"Would it be so crazy?" Some part of me was trying to justify going to his room. I paused for a moment to soak up the last of my drink, grateful for the numbing effect it had on my nerves. The moment I placed the empty glass back on the table, the waiter approached me.

"Miss?" he asked formally.

I jumped. Being spoken to at the scene of our indiscretion was more than I could handle at that moment. All I could do was nod.

"Your cab has arrived. It's waiting for you out front." He informed.

"My cab? I haven't ordered..." My voice trailed off.

"No, Miss. Mr. Hearst saw to that. He mentioned that you weren't feeling yourself and needed to go home to rest? It's available at the front entrance, whenever you're ready." He tipped his head and left the words to sink in.

"Did he just use a waiter and a taxi cab to call me a chicken?" I felt my face redden but this time it was from anger. Something about that presumptuous posh son-of-a-bitch trying to get under my skin and admittedly succeeding was too much to take. It was obvious I had gotten turned on, there's no denying that. So, why not explore? And use it as an opportunity to get even. My mind was made up. With newfound confidence and resolve I quickly exited the booth, grabbing the room key on my way.

Following the golden etched signs, I began to search for his room. But the number on his key was not listed anywhere. After a moment, I pulled aside one of the many employees and asked them to direct me to room 1099.

The young female attendant must've been new because she stared for a moment as if confused. "That's Mr. Hearst's penthouse suite." She searched my face for a moment but I had nothing to offer her. "You need to take the private elevator." She pointed to a set of glass double doors a several feet away.

I nodded and mumbled a thanks as I made my way to the elevator. "He really goes all out." I thought to myself as I tentatively activated the elevator with the room key but I was too distracted to think clearly. All I could do was feel the excitement grow in me with each passing floor until a delicate 'ding' alerted me to the end of the ride. The doors opened and I stepped out into a short hallway, simply decorated, that led to yet another set of impressive double doors.

Face to face with the entrance, I hesitated briefly, but curiously had made me fearless. I'm not sure if I sought revenge or physical relief more but either way, I was ready for him.

Stepping in, I had to admit that the room was spectacular. It looked more like an extravagant apartment than a hotel room, with oak furniture, marble fixtures, and a large winding terrace that overlooked the city. I dropped my bag near the door and made my way to the open patio door, drinking in the city lights.

"Make yourself at home." That familiar deep voice dripping with sarcasm. I turned around and saw him standing there, gently nudging my bag with his foot, hands casually in his pockets, eye brow raised. "Do you normally enter a room that isn't yours without knocking?" He asked me with a dry tone.

"Only when I've been invited and then given a key." I said tossing it on the nearby table. I was glad to have a bit of my old self back.