A Personal Conversation with Dayana

“Jesus Christ,” I grunted under my breath, shaking my head at what I’d just seen.

I looked around the main concourse, checking to see if any of the other staff around had spotted what I had, but no one else was doing the same thing so maybe they’d gotten away with it. I’d come back into the hotel from the staff parking lot, weaving through the back corridors and out into the main lobby, and had been crossing over towards the primary restaurant wing of the ground floor when I’d seen it.

Boobs.

Not just boobs, but big, beautiful boobs hanging out of a bikini top, a raucous big smile above them as Nikolina pulled on the tie of the man she was leading into the elevator. She must have just popped them out because no one in the vicinity was staring or whispering, and she was most of the way in the elevator already so there were only a couple of angles - mine being one of them - that would have spotted her.

I honestly didn’t care all that much if the Eastern European guest wanted to flash her goods around in semi-private. I didn’t even mind so much if she wanted to bring strange men up to the Angeloff suite and fuck their brains out.

What I cared about was that the man she’d been leading by his tie had been Travis, one of Ash’s Concierge team, still in uniform and possibly on shift. Now, there was a shift change at noon so maybe he was off the clock, but still - in uniform.

“Come on, man,” I grunted, shaking my head as I made the snap decision not to rat the guy out. He was making poor choices, but it was also tough for me to blame him. They were great tits, and she was very pretty and very forward. I did decide to mention it to Ada when I touched base to keep her updated on progress before I left for the day - I’d rather Nikolina’s exploits be focused on other guests than the staff if it could be helped.

I headed towards the restaurants and swiped my way into the back area. Cattie was right that I had to do something now, but there was no way I was going to kiss Dayana out of the blue. After the way things had been left earlier I couldn’t leave her hanging, though. Not for an entire weekend.

Because I still wasn’t sure what I actually wanted.

My life at the moment, other than work stress, was pretty fucking blessed. Almost disgustingly so. A decent place to live, a gorgeous fiancee who was actively trying to make our relationship be the best it could be, a small group of close friends and a wider range of friendly contacts. Our health. My family was all good. I was in a relationship with seven additional women, six of whom I’d already had sex with and we couldn’t get enough of each other and the last who was sweet as pie and just taking things slow.

The difference between eight and nine partners wouldn’t really be that much, in all honesty. Going from one to two? That was a doubling. Eight to nine was adding one-eighth more.

“Yeah, because that’s the way to think about it,” I muttered to myself under my breath as I wove around a stack of milk crates filled with onions. The back corridor was busy since the lunch rush was on, line cooks darting into the hall to grab recently-delivered ingredients, or across into the storage rooms for whatever equipment was needed for their work.

No one deserved to be thought of as a statistic like that, especially not Dayana.

She was a person who deserved… she deserved the same that all of the women in my life did - a dedicated partner all to themselves. Someone to love and cherish them the way they wanted and dreamed about.

My relationship with Dayana was amazing in so many ways, and she deserved better than I could give her in the romance department. Did I ‘want’ her? Sure. She was beautiful, smart, funny, snarky. She was a leader, a problem solver, and an adventurer who was willing to take risks. Who wouldn’t ‘want’ her? I’d heard of dozens of men she’d shot down, from fellow staff to wealthy VIP guests, who had made passes at her.

I didn’t want Dayana that way.

I had to repeat that to myself several times to make sure it was ingrained in my skull by the time I got to her office and knocked.

“Come in,” she called from inside.

I entered, and she was sitting at her desk looking a little frazzled. Her hair was back in a ponytail that looked like it was ready to fall loose and she was mid-bite of a burger from HmBrgr, one of our more ‘accessible’ restaurants. As soon as she saw that it was me she finished her bite, lowering the burger and covering her mouth with one hand as she frowned with her eyebrows.

“M’Robbie?” she asked, trying to chew through her food and swallow. “Is something wrong? I thought you were powering through stuff?”

I didn’t want Dayana that way.

“Everything’s- well, it’s not fine,” I said as I shut the door behind me and walked to the chair in front of her desk where I usually sat for our lunches. “Work is working out fine. I’ve got almost everything buttoned up, though I just saw Angeloff’s friend hauling one of the concierge’s into the elevator by his tie and she had her tits out. But I’m not alright because we’re not alright. I don’t know what to do with our conversation earlier, Dayana. My life is a crazy, weird, hectic mess right now, yeah? But I couldn’t let today end and walk out of this building without doing this.”

I went around the table, leaned down as she turned slightly towards me, and I kissed her.

I did want her that way.

How could I not?

My heart was raging as I kissed her, beating fast enough that it was probably more like a drum roll than a drum beat. As our faces closed distance I saw her realise what was happening, her eyes going wide, her pupils dilating just a little, her nostrils flaring slightly.

Her lips puckering a touch.

It was an awful kiss because while she’d managed to swallow her food, she tasted of greasy burger, mustard and pickles. She knew it, I knew it. As soon as we started to kiss we were both very aware that those were not the desired flavours of a kiss.

I was chips committed and willing to power through. She wasn’t.

She planted a hand on my chest and pushed me back, or just herself away in her wheely chair, her eyes wide and her brow furrowed as she looked at me in consternation. “What the fuck, Robbie?” she demanded.

“Oh,” I said, the word falling out of my mouth with the same slippery feeling as my guts falling somewhere out my ass. Maybe it wasn’t the taste, maybe I’d fucked up big time.

Dayana turned, one hand still on my chest, and forcefully spit into the waste basket next to her desk.

“I didn’t think I was that bad,” I muttered, starting to pull away.

Except her hand went from flat to grabbing the front of my button-down shirt tightly, keeping me there as she reached for the glass of soda on her desk, quickly swigged a mouthful, then another that she swished around and then spit into the wastebasket as well. Then she was digging in her desk drawer, found a bottle of spearmint gum tabs, flicked it open with her thumb and tipped three or four of them into her mouth and started to chew fast and hard as she glared at me. Ten seconds later she spat the wad of gum out of her mouth and surged to her feet, pressing me backwards towards one of the filing cabinets until I thumped into it.

“Estar como una cabra,” she said in a low, gravelly tone. And then she was pulling me down with one hand still gripping my shirt and the other grabbing the back of my neck, kissing me.

Spearmint was a lot better of an aftertaste than mustard and pickles.

Kissing her the second time was a lot more involved because we were both ready, willing and able.

It wasn’t an easy kiss. It wasn’t sweet. She didn’t ease into it. There was no moment of mutual embrace where our lips met and we figured out where we were going together. My kissing with Cassidy was second nature. Kissing with my other girls, including Ami, had been a little discovery process. Every one was a little different, and I could even say what I had learned outside of feeling a natural rhythm. When one of us would shift. If kissing was a dance, you had to figure out who the leader was at any part of it, and even if you could be surprised by a move you needed to be flexible and ready to follow them.

If kissing was a dance, kissing Dayana wasn’t a foxtrot, or swing, or salsa. Kissing Dayana was sweaty, messy grinding in the back corner of a dance floor with rave music thumping through us both because we were standing so close to the speakers.

Her fingers clawed into the back of my neck.

My hands found her ass in her tight slacks, grabbing on.

Her tongue pressed between my lips.

I found her bottom lip and gave it a nibble.

She gasped.

I grunted.

She climbed me, my hands on her ass helping lift her, until she had her knees pinned to my waist and she was above me slightly, kissing down at me.

I spun us around and pressed her to the filing cabinet. She kissed me harder, sucking on my upper lip, letting go of my shirt to bring her hand up to my neck and holding me still, holding me close.

She groaned.

I growled.

She whimpered then pulled away, gasping for air as she looked up at the ceiling and pulled my head towards her chest. I kissed the base of her throat, then lower, my chin delving into the wedge of unbuttoned space as I planted kiss after kiss on her smooth, tan skin. I got as far as I could without starting to actually pull clothes off of her and she gasped again, pulling my chin up so she could kiss me on the lips again.

Less messy, less ferocious. Less animal, more personal.

Paying attention to the rhythm, not just the noise of our bodies colliding.

And then, as if the song ended, we both pulled back. I turned us around and lowered her, sitting her down on the corner of her desk, and she let go of me with her hands and her knees.

I stepped back, colliding with the file cabinet again, as we both panted for breath and looked at each other.

I went back to her, slower, and cautiously reached out, cradling her face in both my hands and bending down to kiss her again. Pausing before our lips met, our breath mingling, both of us with half-hooded eyes as we felt the tension bouncing back and forth until neither of us could hold it back. We eased together, kissing smoothly. Full of emotion. No rhythm because this was a moment of silence in the dance. A moment of serenity.

We kissed, and nothing felt more right.

When I backed away again we weren’t panting, but we were breathing deeply.

She sucked in an extra long one and then let it out. “Couldn’t leave without doing that, huh?” she asked.

“Couldn’t wait another minute,” I replied.

“So…?”

I shrugged, shaking my head, because I didn’t know what came next.

We just sat there, looking at each other, looking into each other’s eyes, for a good minute as our breathing slowly synced up.

“I’ll see you Monday, right?” she finally asked.

I swallowed the thick feeling around my tongue and nodded. “I fly back Sunday night.”

“OK,” she said. “We’ll… talk Monday.”

“OK,” I agreed.

“I should-” she started, but I closed the distance again and she grabbed my shirt collar to pull me into another kiss as my hands wrapped around her waist. This was somewhere in between that moment of serenity and the one with the rhythm. It was easier to understand each other, easier to feel where we were at.

When it ended, she placed both hands on my chest, looking up into my eyes from inches away. “Go,” she said softly. “I got the message.”

I let out my breath, backing away all the way to the door and putting my hand on it but not opening it. She reached up, not taking her eyes from mine, and pulled her hair out of the almost pointless ponytail, shaking it out and giving me a stunningly sexy look for a moment with it down, and then pulled it up and back, quickly winding it into a neat, fresh ponytail.

“See you Monday,” I said.

“Looking forward to it,” she said, standing up and circling back around her desk to her seat and sitting back down into it. “It’ll be good to have you… back.”

I opened the door, looked back at her one more time, and left. Closing the door behind me.

Then I wiped at my mouth, hoping to hell that she hadn’t left any lipstick or something on me. She’d been mid-lunch, so it wasn’t likely, but me and Dayana hooking up in her office was the last rumor we needed going around.

“...Shit,” I hissed to myself as I started winding my way back out of the back corridor, passing by the sounds of busy kitchens.

This was such a bad idea.

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