Kamasutra

Room 907 The rain was relentless — heavy drops hitting the wide windows of my suite like impatient fingertips. Milan was moody tonight. I liked it that way. Everything about this city teased you — the style, the silence between strangers, the rules begging to be broken. I was on the ninth floor of the Excelsior, wrapped in a black silk robe, bare underneath. My heels were still on. I had no plans of being modest tonight. He knocked. Twice. Confident, not hurried. I didn’t answer. Just walked back to the bed, sat down, legs crossed, and let him let himself in with the key I’d left at reception for him. He paused when he entered, eyes scanning the room, then landing on me like gravity. I watched his chest rise, slightly slower than his usual calm. That hesitation — subtle, but there — told me everything. He wanted this. He just hadn’t expected me like this. “You’re late,” I said softly. He closed the door behind him without replying, locking it with one clean motion. He was in a...