Blondie Rides Again

The heavy oak door of the Regent suite clicked shut behind them, muffled by carpet while a low jazz quartet hummed from hidden speakers. Blondie stood in front of him wearing silk that hugged every curve and caught the candlelight. She'd turned the presidential suite into her own sex room. Vanilla and sandalwood candles glowed on every surface, light sliding over dark wood and throwing dirty shadows everywhere. The air smelled like anticipation and expensive lilies on the nightstand. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a silver bucket, beads sliding down the neck like sweat on skin. White silk sheets lay turned back on the bed. Blondie grinned at him, eyes hot. 'Figured we needed the right stage,' she said, her voice low as she loosened her silk and let it drop. 'For the kind of ride I have in mind.'