Madrid

Tuesday 18 October, 1730 pm
I get off the Madrid Metro at Gregorio Andalon on line 10… I can see the Hotel Zurbano from the exit. Modern looking, bound to be soulless. I thought I´d finished with boring hotel rooms when I left the military… Check in is painful - customers, or 'los clientes', are mostly an inconvenience for Spanish in the service industry. Into the room, well yes, it´s nicely appointed, all wood and faux brass… like a hundred others. 6 o´clock and my partner calls to check-up… check I´ve arrived ok.
Do the usual things… check the minibar, play with the safe and check out what´s on the porno channel. 7 o´clock: really bored now… Fuck it, I´ll go to the hotel bar.
The bar is dark, looks ok though. A woman is sitting at the bar, mmm nice legs but her shoes are definitely making a fashion statement, in fact they´re shouting “come on! Fuck me!” She´s the only person in the bar apart from some Pedro with sleepy eyes and a bored look tending the bar. She´s obviously waiting for someone so I don´t sit next to her. No, I go to the other end of the bar, it´s got the best view of her legs and ok, I admit it, those shoes. Pedro sidles over, winks and says que guapa (hot stuff, eh?) I give a shrug and demand a gin and tonic - he´s pissed off as he´s denied the chance to indulge in a favourite Spanish pastime of commenting on the nearest good looking woman…and anyway, I want to look at those legs in peace.
I swivel on the bar stool for a better view, scanning upwards I note she is wearing a little black dress, no wonder every girl should have one. I keep my eye travelling up what really is an impressive outline…unfortunately she is looking directly at me! Half a smile and a quizzical raised eyebrow and all I can muster in reply is what I hope is a sufficiently apologetic shrug…
She crosses her legs for effect (yes I´m still looking!) and pats the seat of the stool beside her. I thought you were waiting for someone, I say, though I am gracious enough to look embarrassed at least. I am, she says. You like looking, don´t you? she continues… when there´s someone worth looking at, I reply. Pedro arrives with my drink and she sweeps it off the bar and jerks her head towards the corner booth at the back. We´re quite well hidden from view in the booth and she raises that eyebrow and says “ I´m G, how much do you like to look? As much as I can, I say - mouth a little dry- well, she´s still got my drink. She hands it to me, sit back, have a drink she says, but no touching! In a flash she´s standing on the table, and I´m feasting my eyes on the nylon-covered legs again. I hear the crackle of material on the nylon and look up a little to see the hem of that little black dress rising very slowly.
G is wearing hold-ups… a tiny bulge protudes over the elasticated top and I find it unspeakably erotic. The hem is still rising… G is not wearing underwear… in the half-light I think I can see her lips protruding and a little of her juice glistening in the hair… I reach out with a hand and she hisses, no touching!
She turns round and drops on all fours on the table top… she starts to shuffle back towards me… I´ve learned my lesson and although she is so close to my face I could reach her with my tongue I resist… G parts her labia to show me as much as I can bear to look at… I have my cock out under the table now…
Quickly she swivels until she is seated on the table in front of me… One leg is thrown around my neck… She inserts a finger into the pink wetness…takes it out and brushes my lips… I ejaculate onto the underside of the table. She stands, smoothes down the dress, and skips to the floor… I am still punch drunk. I do recover after a few seconds and crane my neck to see out of the booth. G´s date has arrived. She is enjoying a deep soulful kiss with a stunning Spaniard… I watch wistfully as these two beautiful women stride purposefully into the Madrid night….