Ramya: walk of shame and bye to Reiker

There's no way I could go another round. I've given Reiker all I have. I'm sweaty, exhausted, and my ravaged pussy needs time to heal.

We talk for an hour about everything. He's so warm and friendly, and I'm an open book. No sense in holding back after he cracked me open. The only thing I don't say is how I've already fallen for him. He holds back a little of his own life, being the professional he is. But I still get glimpses into the real man. I don't ask, but I know he lets me in more than most clients.

I drift off mid-conversation while he strokes my back, and I sleep in his arms, feeling safe and protected. I wake up with sunlight streaming in. Reiker is on his laptop at the desk near the bed. "Good morning, beautiful," he says.

I stretch and groan. "Last night was perfect," I say. "Just in case I forget to tell you later."

He grins and nods toward the bedside table where a glass of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen awaits. "Eight hundred milligrams if you're sore."

I grimace as I sit up. "Yep. I'll need it." I take the meds, then come around the bed, completely nude still while he sits in workout clothes. He slides back from the desk and pats his thighs. I sit on him. "I should probably brush my teeth. And do I probably look like ass."

"Actually, you're kind of glowing." He leans in and pecks my lips before I can pull away. "I ordered room service for us. Ramya, I'm not in a rush. Technically I'm yours until the evening."

"You're off the hook soon. I have to catch a flight. Why don't I shower and put on those workout clothes you got me for the walk of shame."

I come out of the bathroom in the leggings, sports bra, and nice shirt. I tried the shoes last night, and even they are the right size. I have to put my panties back on under the leggings because I am still spotting blood from last night's deflowering. It seems it will take a while for me to heal from the devastation left by Reiker's very large penis.

"This is a quality outfit, and everything fits," I say. "I would pick this in a store and buy it. Are you sure?"

"Of course. You paid top dollar for me. It's part of the high-roller package," he jokes.

I spin for him, showing off my body and his outfit selection. No makeup and ponytail now, but this is how I met him at the pool anyway.

The door chimes, and Reiker and I eat a great breakfast.

"I'll drive you, come on," he insists over my feeble objection. I'm quiet for the short drive to my hotel. I'm sad, because I'm going to have to let him go now. He parks and walks me to my room, then I ask him to come in to say goodbye.

"I can drive you to the airport," he objects.

I smile softly and hug him in the middle of my hotel room. "I'm going to cry when you leave. I'd rather do that here."

"Oh Ramya, don't..."

"It's okay. You were amazing. This is inevitable." He just holds me, but I have to say more. "Some of this was real. You felt it, too. Am I wrong?"

He pecks my lips and says with kind eyes, "That's a dangerous conversation to have."

"I know. And I'm not trying to change anything or hold you back from moving on. I just want to know I'm not crazy." I wait, but he doesn't take the bait and tell me what he really feels. It's his job. "You're right to be quiet. You are a professional," I say with sadness.

"And you're going to marry an Indian," he replies.

The words land hard. He's right. And I have my answer now anyway, even if he can't say it. He felt it, too. It lifts my spirits a little.

"Maybe I will, if I can find one that will have me. I'm less marketable on the arranged marriage market now." I grab his cock through his pants playfully. "You ruined me with this big dick."

He smiles back. "You're tainted, not ruined. There's still hope for you with that wonderful sense of humor."

I notice the cross, the necklace he's wearing that he took off last night. The sign of shared belief, and a reminder that we both fell short of God's plan last night. I reach for it and hold it between my fingers.

"We're the same religion, you know," I say. "I'm not Hindu. The arranged thing is not as critical for us. Just more habit and tradition, and what my father seems to want. It sounds horrible, but I've never gone on a date with an Indian I'm that attracted to. Oh, and did I tell you I'm a quarter German? Yes, it's true. There was drama on my mom's side. They deny it, but I'm very tall for an Indian, and I took a DNA test..." My voice trails off. For a second, a look flashes across his face at the possibility, then his stoic resolve kicks in. The information has arrived too late, the idea of us being a couple too far-fetched. "Yes, a dangerous conversation indeed," I echo.

There are a thousand things I want to say, that I suspect he wants to say as well, but instead we settle for a five minute hug that leaves me red-eyed when he finally has to leave. But he does turn back one time at my door.

"Remember what I said last night. About your worth. If the arranged marriage is really what you want, you'll make it happen."

"Thank you for that."

"And you were amazing in bed, just in case you were wondering."