Wheels touched down late, Frankfurt layover hotel. Dragged my roller suitcase through the lobby, beeped the magnetic key card at room 712. View over runways, planes taxiing under sodium lights. Quick shower, then down to the bar for a nightcap. Dim glow from the fireplace, leather armchairs scattered. Leather seats creak. That’s when her eyes locked on mine. She was tucked deep in a corner chair, feet curled under thighs in a tight black dress, stockings peeking. She arched forward, smirked mutinously, then sank back out of sight. Invitation? Heart pounding like a first date, stupid for a stranger. I crossed the few meters, leaned over her chair. ‘Mind if I join?’ She tilted her head up, smiling like she’d been waiting. Sat in the facing armchair. Opened my mouth to say my name—her finger on my lips. ‘Shhh. Tonight, names vanish into the night. Like everything else.’ Disarmed. Who was this? Ass settled, eyes on her: dress gaping indecently as she lounged barefoot. Empty glass. ‘Another?’ Nod yes. She zoned out, nails grazing her arm, biting her lip, eyes devouring me. Server drops drinks. She toasts mockingly, trails glass down her neck, foot sliding onto my knee. Grabbed for it—she slapped my hand. ‘If you play tonight, you let me lead. Say it.’ I breathed it. Her hand on my stubble, finger tracing lip, tongue tasting mine. No words, just consent. She stood, beckoned to elevator. Behind her, hands on waist, nipping neck. Hand dives into her cleavage. Elevator: mouths crash, hands everywhere. Bodies take over. Hallway blur—pinned to walls, finger in her panties. Door slams, balcony light blinds. ‘Stand,’ I say. Pushes table aside, taps it. ‘Ass here.’ Obeys. Lights cigarette, hands up thighs, hikes dress, teases panty edge. Strips her dress, bra. Pinches nipples—she moans. Hands pinned, panties yanked, feet on chair arms. Sits back, fingers her dripping pussy. ‘What do you want?’ ‘You…’ ‘Better.’ ‘Fuck me.’ ‘First, taste.’ Tongue dives, she begs. Cock out, bends her over table, thrusts deep. Stops, carries inside. Pushes shoulders: ‘Suck.’ ‘No.’ Standoff. Spins her, bends over table—spanks hard. Fingers check wetness. More slaps, then grips hips, pounds till we collapse, entwined sleep. Morning keycard drop, planes roaring. But texts start, weeks blur into love, games escalate—spankings, shaving, straps, her leading once. That stopover derailed into forever fire. Rushed to gate, her scent lingering, cock twitching at memories.