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“Cock size,” Mia said, unflinching as if she had just ordered a Coke.

The guy seated across from her wearing the suede vest and grey tam –what was up with that, by the way?-- sputtered his water back into his glass. Wiping the dribble from the bottom of his lip, he coughed, “I...what? Seriously?”

Mia shrugged her shoulder and popped her eyebrow. “Yeah, of course.”

The guy blinked. He asked, “Cock size? Just like that? That's what you have to say is what's most important to you in a life partner?”

“More like ON a life partner,” she explained, “Wouldn't make sense if it was IN him now, would it?”

He sat back in his chair, shaking his head slightly, shooing away the fly of disbelief.

Mia leaned forward, poking up her eyeglasses and narrowing her lids around her round, dark eyes. “Look...uh,” she squinted at the tag on the guy's vest, “Number 12?”

“Arye,” he offered.

“Arye,” she nodded, easing herself back in the chair, “That's what all these girls want.”

The two of them paused to scan all the women seated in the lounge.

When she was sure their eyes had reconnected, Mia held up her hands about a foot apart. “We all want a big, thick, long, black cock to suck on,” she declared, accentuating every adjective through a lurid little sneer on her ruby lips.

“Really?” Arye responded flatly, incredulous.

“Oh yeah. Oh yeah,” Mia nodded in the affirmative, taking up her cocktail glass and having a sip.

“Well, I guess I can't really help you with the 'black' part,” he sighed, unconsciously giving his pale, pink cheek a little scratch.

Mia arched her left brow sharply high above her eyeglasses. She eyed him and said, “Really? Are you saying you fulfill the other criteria?”

“What?” Arye said, caught off guard again, “No. I mean...look, I'm just a bit surprised you would be so...uh,”

“Shallow?” Mia grinned.

“No,” Arye corrected, holding up his hands as he back-pedaled, “I wasn't going to say that.”

He was going to say that.

Mia could see a tiny little bead of sweat appear underneath the lid of that silly tam of his.

“I was going to say,” he spoke slowly, “I wasn't expecting you to be so upfront about something like that. You don't look like a person who would be so...”

“Whorish?”

“Abrupt.”

Mia closed her eyes and sighed. She checked her watch, then looked at him like a frontline nurse consoling an injured soldier. She took a deep breath, peered over the rim of her glasses, then said, “Arye, that's the nature of this soiree, isn't? 8 minutes. That's not much time at all. So many guys here, so much potential, but only 8 minutes with each of them. It's all about speed and efficiency.” She slapped the back of one hand into the palm of the other. “Speed and efficiency.”

After another quick breath she continued, “A girl has to get her priorities in order and out there. You asked me what I want in a...'life partner'. Thank you for getting right down to the nitty-gritty. So for life, Arye? I want a big cock...for life. My life partner may eventually become a wrinkled carcass of a vegetable sucking porridge trough a straw in a hospital bed, but as long as I can spit out my dentures and get my pink gums around his meaty length of Oktoberfest sausage, I will be a happy woman. Oh, and a healthy inheritance, of course. I need to be well kept.”

Mia settled once more against the back of her chair. Arye replied by turning into a mannequin.

She took a moment to look behind him, to another couple at a table across the floor of the lounge. The woman at that table didn't break away from her conversation but did manage to make eye contact with Mia and give her a wink and broadened her smile.

Well, at least her friend seemed to be enjoying herself.

Mia returned her attention to Arye, still a flabbergasted mess. She cocked her head. Damn. Maybe she broke him.

As she was about to snap him out of it, the angelic chime of a porter bell interrupted the room.

“Time's up once again, ladies and gentlemen,” an energetic, attractive red-head declared as she strode to the center of the room. She spun on her stilettos and clasped her hands together. “Believe it or not, we've reached half-time already. Let's take 20 minutes to reset and refresh. Gentlemen, readjust your collars, and ladies, powder your noses. Grab yourselves another drink. Then it's on to Round 2!”

A gentle but steady murmur rose through the dark cocktail lounge as 12 couples got up, some more readily than others.

Mia brushed the skirt of her black dress back towards her knees and then picked up her purse and her 'dance card'. She held out her hand as she got up. “It was really nice talking with you, Arye,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. Me too,” he said, still in his chair. They shook hands. His was a bit clammy.

Speaking with a genuine and softer voice, Mia added, “I think you're a nice guy, Arye. Well, from what I can tell in 8 minutes, anyway. I hope you'll find a nice 'life partner'. Good luck. Oh, but lose the cap.”

Those were the only truthful words she had said to him in the 8 minutes they shared. What stunned her was how straight a face she had maintained while doing so. She was sure she was pushing it when she quickly tacked on the old 'inheritance' schtick. Yet after six 8-minute 'speed dates' so far, it wasn't surprising to her how easily the lies came to keep herself amused.

She walked directly to the bar, polished off her cocktail, then promptly asked for another. God bless half-off ladies night.

As she leaned against the bar rail, another bare arm brushed up against hers. It was Sylvie, her sometimes good friend. Right now, she had a tickling urge to dunk her freckled, pixie face into a toilet.

“Hello Number 7,” she said, tilting her chin towards her name tag.

“Hey! How's it going?” Sylvie asked, so giddy she was almost breathless.

Mia took a hard swig from her glass, gulped and replied, “Oh Lord! I am having the BEST time. I just can't stand it. Bartender, keep them coming!”

Sylvie, the decidedly shorter of the two, rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear,” she exclaimed, slightly deflated, “It's not going well, is it? I'm sorry I dragged you along.”

Mia shook her head. “This night's not about me, it's about you. I'm here for you.”

Sylvie smiled and gave her a hug, pressing her cheek against Mia's smooth shoulder. “Thanks, Mia,” she cooed.

Giving Sylvie a reassuring pat on her head, Mia said, “I'm here for you...and dinner at Portabello's next Friday.”

Sylvie gave her an extra squeeze and the two of them shared a laugh.

“So, any potential Mr.Right's?” Mia asked.

“Maybe. I don't know.” Sylvie's face twisted into a frown. “It's so hard. Only 8 minutes to talk to a guy. It's crazy.”

“Tell me about it,” Mia concurred, “How's a girl supposed to get a guy's bank account number in that time?”

It was the first time either them had tried a speed dating night. Really, it was Sylvie's idea. Mia came to support her and for the half-price drinks.

Mia picked up Sylvie's 'dance card' from the counter. Each person marked down the numbers of people with whom they would like to continue contact. At the end of the night, the host –the red-head-- collected the cards, matched up the numbers, then gave the contact info to the corresponding guests. It seemed simple, but even that was a grueling a process for Mia.

“You marked down three numbers already?” Mia said, “Batting .500. You're doing well.”

“Doesn't mean they wrote down my number on their cards,” Sylvie shrugged.

“Every man should be writing down your number,” Mia said.

Sylvie smiled. “I knew there was a reason I brought you along. You're the best!”

“I am.”

“But, I don't have to treat you if I get you hooked up tonight, though.”

“Fat chance,” Mia puffed, but then she smiled at her friend, “Thanks for the thought, but just worry about yourself, m'kay?”

Mia always felt protective of her. Small, cute, eager and earnest like a puppy, Sylvie sometimes seemed a bit too naïve and innocent.

“So how about you?” Sylvie asked as she snatched up her card from the bar counter. She was disappointed to see it was still blank. “Nothing?”

“I told you, I'm not here for myself,” Mia noted.

“I know, but come on, Mia,” Sylvie encouraged, “There's actually a lot of good-looking guys here, surprisingly. And you're looking so fine tonight! I'm sure several of them have written your number down on their cards.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Mia bit her lower lip and looked aside sheepishly. Her penchant all night for “little white lies” had possibly prevented her Number 13 from appearing on any potential suitor's cards. In one case, she was fortunate the guy didn't call 911.

“I'm not really interested in finding a Mr.Right, Sylvie,” Mia said, “I just don't have much time for that these days.”

Sylvie grinned and offered Mia a leery glance of her emerald eyes. “Okay fine,” she said teased, “So how about a little Mr.Right Now?”

Mia paused for a moment before replying, refusing to be baited. “No,” she said, deliberately forming her lips as she spoke, “I'm not here for that either.” She gazed at the swirling liquor in her glass.

Sylvie eased back and softened her grin. “I know,” she said, “I'm just kidding. I just want you to have some fun. You should relax.”

“I'm relaxed.”

“Just let go once in a while,” Sylvie added, “Sometimes I worry about you.”

“Hey. Who's here to support who?” Mia remarked. “Just do your thing here tonight, okay? Find a guy. Get married. Have some kids. See you same time next week.”

“Okay. Don't blame me for trying,” Sylvie sighed.

Each of them took another sip from their glasses.

“I'm going to go to the ladies' room,” Sylvie said, “You want to come?”

Mia shook her head. “I'm good.”

With Sylvie gone, Mia had a moment to collect herself. She didn't know why this whole idea of dating made her neck hairs bristle. Her sometimes snarky, sometimes aloof, sometimes bitchy attitude towards relationships she put on display this night was really just a reflection of how she had been feeling in general lately.

She gazed into the mirror across the bar behind all the colourful bottles. Staring back at her was a young woman, clearly not unattractive but something not quite right. She stood up straight and flicked and crimped some wave back into her long raven hair, brushing one side of it back over her bare white shoulder. She adjusted her glasses, the top of the rims just above her eye-line for that intellectually suggestive look. A quick inspection of her short, black cocktail dress reaffirmed that it was the right choice to show off her yoga enhanced physique.

She was dressed for an evening of man-hunting, and this particular game park appeared to be well-stocked. So why did she feel like she'd rather be at home eating a bowl of cold cereal?

The carousel nature of the speed dating event definitely didn't help things. She felt like she was at a conveyor belt sushi restaurant, except she wasn't sure who was the raw fish going around in circles: the men or her. She was sure that if she could get past that plodding visual, she would find some of the guys to be rather attractive.

But then there was that notion of actually dating. What if she did end up matched up with a guy? The thought of having to go through the rigors of dating –the phone calls, the meet ups, the obligatory hugs and kisses, the “okay, now is a good time” sex-- just didn't appeal to her at all. Not at this point in her life, anyway. So when, poor Number 12, Arye, brought up the notion of “life partners”, she couldn't help but feel like her powder keg had been lit.

Mia leaned against the bar once more and looked towards the ladies' washrooms. Sylvie was still in there. What was taking her so long?

She smirked to herself. “Maybe she's right,” she mused. Maybe she really could just use a Mr.Right Now, though she was a little shocked her sweet and innocent friend would suggest something like a One Night Stand.

Still, the idea of it undeniably kindled a small spark in her otherwise cold heart and belly. No way she was going to even joke about that with Sylvie – the poor girl would likely go into shock. She was also certain that there wouldn't be a man in the lounge this night who could even stir that pot within her.

She looked upwards contemplatively for a moment, the grinned and snickered, “Nope, Mia. Your panties are still as dry as a desert.”

“Whose panties are what?” Sylvie asked, sidling up to her at the bar.

Mia shirked aside slightly, unaware her friend had returned. “What? Oh...ah...”

The little porter bell dinged again. The hostess returned to the center of the floor and clapped her hands.

“Alright, ladies and gents,” she announced, “I hope you've recharged and refocused. It's time for the second half of tonight's event! Still lots of people to meet, so I hope you haven't completely filled up your cards yet!”

No worries about that, Mia thought.

“Ladies take your seats,” the hostess directed, “Men, you're rotating to your left, counter-clockwise.”

“And the carousel continues,” Mia muttered.

“Okay, back to the mines,” Sylvie chirped.

“Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho,” Mia joked, “Oh, don't lean in too close to Number 16. He smells like an Old Spice truck rolled over him.”

Sylvie pawed at her arm. “And you try not to scare too many of the guys permanently off women,” she scolded playfully.

The men and women moved through the lounge like football players taking to the field. Mia resumed her seat and steeled herself for what was to come during the next hour. She tried to settle herself into the suede bucket chair, but just couldn't find a perfectly comfortable position. Finally she just settled with the standard demure pose: legs crossed, one hand on her lap, the other perched on the armrest. Another deep breath and she was as ready as she could be. Bring it on.

A tall, lanky, blonde-haired man wearing tan pants and a blue dress-shirt -- I.T. Chic-- stepped up to the chair across from her. He flashed a very wide, toothy smile and said, “Hi, I think I'm at the right place.”

“That makes one of us,” Mia replied.

The man chuckled hesitantly.

Inwardly, Mia scolded herself. Snarky-bitch mode was not a good way to begin. She didn't want to believe she could be such a cruel person. She managed a warmer smile and said, “Sorry. I mean, I think you're also supposed to start here, as well. Please, have a seat.”

That seemed to relax him a bit. “Great,” he replied, “My name's Brad.”

As he pulled the chair back, though, another man came up and also put his hand on the chair and on Brad's back. “I am very sorry, my friend. I believe this is where I'm supposed to be,” he said.

With mirroring confused looks, Mia and Brad paused and frowned at the man. He looked much more reassured than either of them, a confident look in his dark eyes and a steady smile on his full lips.

Brad looked toward Mia but all she could offer were raised eyebrows and a telepathic response of “Don't look at me. I have no idea.”

“Uh...no, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to start here,” Brad said, his hand still on the chair.

The other man also kept his hand on the chair, his expression unfazed and calm, dark black brows settling over the cool whites of his eyes. “I believe you are wrong, my friend,” he said, simply.

Mia sat frozen, only her eye shifting between the two men.

Brad released the chair first and stood tall, obviously trying to use his height to press his point. It didn't work. Not only was the man almost his equal in height, it was obvious he was built more solidly beneath his burgundy shirt and grey blazer. And he continued to regard him stoically, like a big dog staring down a puppy.

“We're supposed to go counter-clockwise,” Brad said, motioning his finger in circles.

“Ah well, there you are,” the other man exclaimed. He pointed to his wrist. “I am not wearing a watch.”

Brad frowned. Mia couldn't stop the edge of her lip from curling up into an impish smile.

“No. Look you have to...” Brad started to say but was interrupted by the dinging porter bell.

“The gentlemen at table 6,” the hostess called out, “Can you please find your seats so we may get started?”

While Brad looked over to the hostess, Mia and the other man took the opportunity to make eye contact. He winked at her. That simple gesture definitely flicked at something deep down inside of her but she couldn't say that it didn't make her feel uneasy.

Brad turned back to the man and opened his mouth to say something, but instead the man spoke, “Alright, the thing is that my time tonight is short and I may be leaving very soon. I would just like the opportunity to meet with this young lady before I go. I believe you will be staying here for the entire night, yes?”

Brad hesitantly nodded.

“Then, my friend, I'm sure you will eventually...'counter-clockwise'...back into this chair, yes?” the man remarked, “All I am asking for is my moment with her, a fair chance. Can you begrudge me that?”

“Gentlemen?” the hostess called to them again.

Brad was already teetering. Mia decided to give him a little push. “He's right, Brad,” she said, “We'll get a chance to speak. Everyone spends time together, right?”

While unable to hide his annoyance, Brad finally relented. “Okay...if you're alright with that.”

“I'm okay with it,” she replied, hoping Brad hadn't noticed her eyes remained on the other man the entire time.

The man offered his hand to Brad which was accepted begrudgingly. He even patted him on the back as he walked away. Then he took his seat across from Mia, leaning forward, elbows on his lap, hands clasped together beneath his chin. Mia almost could hear the mental sound of a “click” as his eyes locked onto hers. Dark ebony skinned and handsome, and exuding confidence, her own eyes, though looking less assured, were also fixed upon him. Her lips ebbed into a smile, belying the nerves in her belly evoked by him.

The porter bell rang again. Time to begin.

Mia still hadn't moved much, stuck in that ridiculous pose she had assumed since taking her seat. As the man continued to hold her in his cool, calm, undeniably magnetic gaze, she felt like a deer in headlights. 10 seconds ticked by and neither had said anything. She finally opened her mouth, still unsure of what she was actually going to say.

“My suite number is 3208,” he spoke first.

Mia stopped, her mouth hanging ajar. For a few precious seconds, it felt like a small rock was caught in her throat, but she finally managed to jump-start her brain enough to blurt, “What?”

“In the hotel above us,” he said, lifting his eyes upwards for a moment, “Suite number 3208.”

Mia scrunched her trimmed brows sharply down towards her nose. “Yes, I heard you the first time. Why would...?”

“Because you don't want to be here.”

Mia was speechless.

“So you will be in my room in....let's say 20 minutes,” he said.

Was that a request or a command? His voice, laced with an Hispanic accent, was as steady and intense as the rain. It was impossible for Mia to read the man beyond the words he spoke to her, and those were so stark and blunt, she couldn't believe what she thought he was suggesting.

She swallowed then said, “To do what?” She hoped he was kidding, and decided to play along.

Shadows appeared on the man's dark face accentuating strong, sharp features on his smooth, dark caramel skin. “So many things come to mind,” he replied.

Mia tilted her chin away slightly, but didn't take her eyes off of him. They stayed on the man as she quickly readjusted her glasses which had slipped down her nose and then brushed back her hair over her shoulder with one deft motion. Truthfully, according to the rules of the event, she should have screamed “foul!” and had the man kicked out for such a proposal.

But, for reasons she didn't want to entertain at the moment, she didn't do that. Good or bad, he managed to stir something in her.

Instead, she cleared her throat and said, “Whatever comes to mind? Does that mean you have a bowling alley in your room because I really feel like I could go ten frames right about now.”

That managed to draw an inner laugh and grin from the man. Good. She wanted to turn the tables a bit.

“Do you have a name other than number 26?” Mia asked.

Still grinning, the man leaned back into his chair. “Miguel,” he offered.

“Miguel? Hello, my name is Mia,” she said, “See? This is how it's supposed to go. We say hello, introduce ourselves, then chat each other up, ask questions, and find a connection. Like...like our names: Miguel and Mia. Can't go wrong with alliterative names.”

The man nodded, stroking his fingers down the sides of his impeccably sculpted goatee, a bemused expression on his face. “Very well, Mia,” he said, “What would you need to know?”

Mia's eyes narrowed, and her head lowered, a flash of white reflecting in her glasses. Finally, she felt back on track. “That's a nice accent you have,” she noted, “Where do you come from?”

“You need to know this?” he asked, “This is important?”

Mia frowned and shrugged, “Sure it is. I have this bias against creatures not of this planet.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “I live in the Dominican.”

Mia cocked her head, curious. “You 'live'...?” she started, “Do you mean you're only visiting the country?”

Miguel nodded. “I finished my business in the city this week. I fly out tomorrow morning.”

She shook her head quickly. “Then what are you doing at a speed dating event?”

He held out his large hands to his sides. “I am looking for a date,” he replied with a cool lilt in his deep voice, “Just for this evening.”

Once more, Mia caught herself with her lips ajar, his words rattling around in her head for a second. Flatly she said, “You know, there are places in the city you can pay for that.”

“That's not the type of company I am looking for,” he said without missing a beat.

Mia mustered a stern tone in her voice, replying, “I'm not the company you're looking for.”

“Yes,” Miguel corrected, “You most certainly are.”

“You're mistaken.” Mia still couldn't look away from him, as if keeping her eyes on him would keep him at bay. “People here tonight are looking for lasting relationships, not some one night stand.”

“All of them?”

“Most of them.”

“Not you, though,” Miguel suggested.

“How would you know?” she asked, “You think staring at me that way allows you to read my mind?”

“This big,” Miguel held his hands up and apart in front of her.

Mia's brows knitted together. “What are you...?”

“My size,” Miguel said.

Mia felt the blood rush through her, tweaking a pink glow on her cheeks.

“I also understand that you have a fetish for dwarves, that you have orgasms whenever you wash your dishes, that you live with over a dozen cats, and you may have killed at least two of your past boyfriends accidentally with cleaning detergent in their meals,” Miguel said.

Mia chewed her lower lip. So apparently some of the men were sharing info during the break.

Once again, Miguel leaned forward in his chair. “You don't want a relationship. You're telling false stories instead, trying to get through each 8 minute date,” he said, his voice low, knowing, cajoling, “Yet you continue to participate when you could have just walked away. Why?”

“I'm...I'm only here to support my friend,” Mia answered, breathless. She could feel herself breathing more deeply now, her chest rising and falling unsteadily.

Slowly Miguel shook his head. “You could have just sat at the bar and waited,” he continued, “But here you are, meeting men you care nothing about, answering and asking questions you care nothing about. And now I sit here before you, my intentions laid out and clear, breaking the rules. I see you shifting uneasily in your chair, keeping your eyes upon me like a prey upon a predator.”

Her heart beat was as erratic as his voice was rhythmic and steady.

Miguel pressed further, “All you need do, Mia, is raise your hand, call over the hostess and have me removed from these premises. It's very easy. Yet, you don't.”

Mia swallowed again and licked the inside of her lips. “I still can,” she breathed.

“You won't,” he replied. Miguel stretched out his wide, pink-brown lips, and narrowed his eyes upon her. “For the two of us, isn't tonight truly about speed and no consequences? We don't require mindless details to remember for days to come. It's all about tonight. It's all about what we experience now. No promises to break for the future.”

Mia felt like she was on fire. It may have been the alcohol, but his words and the cocksure way he delivered them were incendiary. How long had they been talking? 8 minutes may as well have been 8 hours, the way her mind felt so tossed at the moment. And all the while he made his illicit proposal to her, she couldn't take her damn eyes off of him. She watched as he reached forward across the small cocktail table, and gently touched her knee, then caressed it slowly.

Another rule broken. He was daring her to look away, daring her to call the hostess.

“You are intrigued, are you not?”

She said nothing.

“Very well,” Miguel said, sitting back in his chair.

He raised his hand. The hostess came over to their table. “Yes? I was about to ring the bell in about 30 seconds.”

“Thank you,” Miguel stood up, adjusted his jacket and took the hand of the hostess, “I have spoken to whom I wanted to speak to and said all I wanted to say. This has been a most enjoyable evening.”

“Oh, but we're not done yet,” the hostess said anxiously, looking back and forth to Mia and Miguel. “We're about to rotate...”

“Yes, counter-clockwise. Unfortunately I left my watch in my room,” he said and turned back to Mia smiling almost boyishly, “I'm sorry, I can't resist recycling jokes.”

“But...”

“Buenas noches,” Miguel said, addressing the hostess. Again he saved the last words for Mia: “Hasta pronto, Mia. Chau.”

With that, he walked out of the lounge, the hostess only taking a half-step to try to stop him.

“Maybe...I guess, I'll have one of the ladies sit out each rotation,” the hostess thought aloud to know one in particular.

Certainly Mia hadn't been paying attention to her. Her eyes were still tethered to the chair where Miguel had been sitting, like some elusive spectral image of the man were still there, holding her attention with his vice like words and eyes.

She finally had to close her eyes to try to break the image. Yet the moment she did, it unexpectedly heightened her awareness of her pounding heart, her quickened breaths, and the heat and electricity churning deep down in her trembling gut. She shifted in her seat, and noted the dampness high along her inner thighs. A nagging longing ached through her body.

“Oh...Mia,” she murmured, clasping the sides of her head, “Mia. Mia. Mia. What the devil are you thinking?”

The porter bell rang. She opened her eyes. She still saw Miguel seated there. Damn.

“Hey. Hello again,” Brad said, taking his seat across from her, “Take two, huh?”

At first, Mia didn't flinch, but finally she blinked and shook her head like snapping out of a hypnotic funk. “I'm...sorry,” she mumbled, “Who are you?”

He frowned, grinning awkwardly. He pointed to himself and said, “Brad. We just met a few minutes ago before that guy came.”

Mia nodded slowly as she looked away towards the lounge's exit. “Oh yeah, that guy.”

Once more the bell rang.

Rubbing his hands together, Brad said, “Shall we begin? I don't want to waste another minute getting to know you.”

“No...I don't want to waste another minute, either,” Mia said still looking away.

“Great,” he said, “So, then, how's it going?”

“Hmm? Going?” Mia replied, turning to him, yet looking past him. She nodded, “Yes. Sorry. I have to get going now.”

Brad watched her as she picked up her purse and stand up. “Uh, wait. What? You're leaving?”

“Yes,”she said, regaining some of her awareness, “Oh, I'm so sorry Brad. I lied about spending some time with you...and about my dwarf fetish, and orgasms, and your cock size...”

“My...'cock size'?” Brad parroted.

She slid past him and patted him on the shoulder. “At least you don't have to worry about me killing you with my cooking.”

Leaving him behind to mull over her cryptic words, Mia walked towards the exit. She managed to catch the eye of Sylvie. As she passed her table, she fanned herself with her hand and mouthed the words, “I need some air.”

Sylvie simply smiled and winked.

As she got to the door, she was intercepted by the hostess, who asked earnestly, “Is there anything the matter?”

“Yes. I'm sorry. I'm suddenly feeling very warm,” she explained, “I think I drank too much. I could use some air.”

The hostess rolled her eyes in mild frustration. Suddenly her clients were all abandoning ship.

“Why don't you go ahead and put the next woman who was supposed to spend time with Miguel with Brad over there?” Mia suggested. She already began to make her way past the hostess as soon as she had spoken.

In her mind, as soon as she made her way to the hotel lobby, she turned right and headed out the doors and stepped onto the streets where the fresh air would fill her lungs and clear her head of any nonsense and confusion. A little while later, she would be at home, curled up in her bed, sheets over her head, and a pillow crushed between her thighs.

In her mind.

Reality betrayed her however, and she suddenly realized she was not only at the elevators, but at some point she had pressed the button. 21...20...19...18..she looked up at the floor display as the elevator descended.

She checked her watch. She would be early.

...14...13...12...

“You're really going to do this?” she thought fervently to herself, closing her eyes.

...8...7...6...

“Just how big did he say he was?”

...3…2... “Ding!”

The docile chime snapped at her like a whip and she opened her eyes with a gasp. The doors slid open.

“Hello, Mia,” Miguel said, standing in the elevator car before her.

Time seemed to suspend itself for a moment. Mia heard her own heart beat and breaths. “Oh God,” she whispered. She felt like she was falling backwards in slow motion.

A large, dark-skinned hand snatched her wrist and pulled her into the elevator. Suddenly time not only had sped up, it went into overdrive. Miguel spun her around, pressing her back against the rear wall of the elevator. His large, smothering lips were upon her even before the doors finished sliding shut.

Mia didn't have a moment to think. Her body went into automatic trying to find a steady position, her high heels sliding on the floor. She needn't worry about that, though, Miguel had a firm hold of her hips as he pressed himself upon her. He wouldn't let her fall.

Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, then reached up around the back of his neck, holding him close as voracious, hungry kisses enveloped her mouth. With one leg stretched out, the other drew itself up against the side of his leg. Miguel assisted her, pulling her thigh up high, pressing his hand against it upward, squeezing her smooth flesh, and wrapping back around her firm bottom.

For a few sizzling seconds, Mia lost herself to the heat of the moment. Everything about this man was strong: his lips, his arms, his hands, his chest...his desire. She was overwhelmed and she was barely keeping up. She fired her tongue past his broad lips into his mouth and lashed it around with his, sharing the sweet taste of saliva and alcohol.

It was only when Miguel moved away from her mouth downward to suckle on her neck, did Mia realize that they weren't moving. “Uhh...Mi-Miguel,” she gasped and swallowed, “The...uhh...button...you have to press the button for the floor.”

Truthfully, the man was already pushing all the right buttons.

Miguel licked her throat once more then slowly stepped back. He gazed at her with a very telling, seductive smile on his lips as she leaned heavily against the elevator wall, her face flushed, her red lips parted, her bosom rising high with every quick breath. Barely glancing behind him, he reached back and pushed the button for floor 32.

Mia felt the floor rise against her feet. She watched him carefully as he moved towards her in a suddenly more deliberate pace. Mia could almost describe it as a graceful swagger. His hands pressed against the mirrored wall on both sides just above her head as he continued to slowly close in on her. She rolled her eyes up to look at him. He stood there in her space, gazing down at her, seemingly inhaling her fragrance. Her heart skipped. She suddenly realized just how big and daunting this guy really was, his raw power surging upon her like a tidal wave.

Yet, he managed to control his energy, angling his handsome face and inviting lips towards her in such an easy pace, it was almost cruel. By the time they came together in another slow-burn kiss and embrace, the elevator bell chimed as they arrived to floor 32.

As the doors slid open, Miguel took her hand in his and led her out. Mia's steps were hesitant, her expression dreamy but his confident look assured her of one thing: she wasn't going back down to the lobby anytime soon.

She followed him down the quiet hallway of the hotel, eyes always upon him. The momentary respite gave her time to face the angels and devils perched on her shoulders. Was she really about to do this? She had never done anything like this before, never thought she would be the type to have a one night stand with a complete stranger.

Well, she did talk with him for 8 minutes, at least. That would just have to do.

They arrived at Suite 3208. Miguel turned to face her. With one fluid motion, he slid one arm around her waist and pulled her in close, welding his mouth against hers yet again. His other hand pressed the key card to the room into her palm. Together they inserted it into the lock and shoved open the door. They stepped into the room locked in their smoldering kiss.

The door closed, leaving Mia's angels and devils outside in the hallway. Only one thought remained.

“Miguel,” she groaned.

They rolled unsteadily along the walls of the suite's darkened foyer. Miguel's hot, rough hands were all over her, holding her face as he kissed her, pushing at her breasts, and sliding around the curves of her hips and waist.

Mia sucked in air through her nose as she wrestled her tongue with his. She felt his finger tugging at her dress, cinching up the short, tight skirt above her hips, exposing the full length of her thighs and the smooth rounds of her toned bottom which he appreciatively sank his fingers into.

By now her glasses had slid down to the tip of her nose and were more a nuisance than a distraction. Miguel read her mind and took them off tossing them onto a side table. At the same time, he flicked on a light switch for a small solitary lamp in the living room area of the suite, illuminating the space with a soft glow. The bedroom was separated. Both knew that they weren't going to make it to the bed.

His steady hands resumed working at Mia's tingling body, sliding off her shoulder straps and unzipping her at the back. He pulled at her top and rolled her entire dress down over her hips, past her legs and all the way to the floor. He helped her step out of it while at the same time caressing her belly with his lips and tongue.

Mia, with her eyes closed, sucked in her lips and braced her body against the wall as she felt him kiss, lick, and nip lower her body all over. When she felt him gnawing against the crotch of her panties, she gasped and shuddered, curling her chin towards her shoulder.

Miguel rose up and stood tall before her as he took off his jacket. He burned his eyes into her while he unbuttoned his shirt.

Mia's head was turned away slightly, her mouth open as she tried to steady her breaths in vain. Now dressed only in her lingerie and high heels, she watched him peel off his shirt, his muscular chest and arms practically bursting forth. He was a stallion, a hard body of carved shadow and shimmering ebony, unbridled passion and desire practically emanating from his core.

And it was all about to be unleashed upon her.

No sooner had that intimidating thought swept into her spinning mind did Miguel turn her around to face the wall. He leaned her forward, raising her hands over her head and holding them against the wall with the firm grip of his own hand. She soon felt his free hand explore the curves of flesh at her bottom, gliding his palm around with a silky smooth circular motion.

Mia gasped and grimaced when she felt him yank at her panties, snapping one side, then again as he tore them away unceremoniously.

Miguel stuffed the prize satin in his pants pocket before resuming his navigation of Mia's ass. He massaged it roughly before slapping it with a firm snap of his palm.

“Ah!” Mia yelped, tossing her head back.

Three more times he spanked her bottom, tanning her peach-skinned flesh a glowing pink.

Both of them were breathing hard now. Miguel's hot, deep breaths filled the air around Mia's head.

The spicy tingles she felt on her skin were quelled by a new, delicious sensation as he ran his middle finger down the tight trench of her butt crack. Up and down he rubbed her, his stiff digit going deeper and deeper with each plunge until it slipped upwards between her legs to her crotch.

“Uhh,” Mia moaned, as he reached underneath and caressed her her outer lips.

Miguel pulled back her long raven hair and kissed her cheek then sucked on her ear. He rubbed her with more fervor, delighting her trembling folds with his rigid finger.

Mia stood unsteadily on her tip toes as he swirled his finger around, tickling, teasing. Her head dropped back. Her glossy red lips were spread wide. Aching sighs escaped her throat repeatedly.

Just when she couldn't bear it any longer, Miguel withdrew his hand and turned her around again to face him.

Mia was burning up, her heart pumping blood in waves throughout her over-stimulated body. She pressed her back against the wall, feeling unsteady. She barely moved when Miguel reached for the clasp between her bra cups and flicked it apart. Her bra dropped to the floor leaving her in her high heels alone.

She only had a moment to enjoy the appreciative look on the face of the man who had just undressed her. Within amount, he was demonstrating his appreciation of her body, up close and personal.

Miguel curled his long pink tongue around her perky nipple, slathering it with his saliva before inhaling it between his big lips. His hand clenched her free breast, massaging it and stroking it with his fingers.

Mia felt a rush through her body like never before. The uneasiness she felt since this all began in the elevator never really subsided. Actually, it may have accentuated the illicitness of the moment. Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, she still felt this was wrong. She just didn't care. And that felt so good.

“Hu-uhh!” Mia loosed a high pitched groan as the sensation of Miguel's tongue on her slit announced itself to her. She quivered and gasped, “Oh! Oh God!”

Miguel circled the tip of his tongue against her outer folds then flicked rapidly against them, eliciting a tremble from Mia's belly. He pressed his full lips against her, enveloping her. His fingers gently worked to expose her clit and he quickly indulged in nips and lick and sucks upon her sensitive hood of flesh.

Mia was practically pushing herself through the wall at her back, her hands pressed against the broad shoulders of Miguel. Brows angled upward, she glared down at the head of the man who was savouring her down below.

Miguel intensified his attack, lifting her leg over his shoulder, and thrusting his finger and tongue into her.

Her desperate gasps now gave way to rough cries and groans that left Mia's throat raw. She was trembling and shaking all over now, uncertain of how she even remained standing. Frowning, she bit down on her lower lip, holding in her cries for as long as she could. Finally she simply gave way, held her breath for three long seconds, then moaned, “Ohhhh!”

Miguel tasted her as she splashed her wetness onto his tongue, lips, and fingers. He held her strong as she hitched and trembled her full release upon him.

“Oh...oh God,” Mia breathed, her head dropping and her mouth hanging open. It was as if the plug at the bottom of a well had been removed, water swirling around and around relentlessly, unimpeded.

And she knew that this particular well was far from dry.

She watched through watery glazed eyes as Miguel rose up to stand before her once more. He stood there, not two inches away yet their bodies not touching. There was an almost foreboding look on his face. Mia knew what that meant.

“I...I don't suppose I could get a glass of water first?” she asked with a small, nervous laugh.

“That, I'm afraid,” Miguel said leaning down towards her, “Will have to wait.”

As they kissed, Miguel reached down and around, picking her up. Mia wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the sofa. He easily held her aloft for a minute as they folded their lips and tongues together before setting her down.

Mia didn't have a moment to settle back into the soft cushions of the large sofa, however. She sat upright at the edge of the cushion, looking up at Miguel. As she had been doing all along, she was trying to quickly recover herself, prepare herself.

Miguel didn't keep her waiting long, unbuckling his heavy belt and unzipping his pants. His clothing easily fell to the floor and within a moment, he stepped out of them, kicking them aside.

Mia's gaze drifted downward from his cool visage, past his chest and hard belly. Her eyes settled at his crotch, looking past the black underwear to the shifting bulge beneath. Her hand was drawn to it and soon it was cupping it, feeling the thick, long length swelling at her touch. Through the thin material of his underwear, she rubbed and fondled it, feeling it noticeably stiffen.

Miguel took off his briefs. A dark brown, turgid length of flesh hung low and heavy before Mia.

Mia's nostrils flared as she breathed deeply through them. A determined look settled into her eyes. Quickly she gathered him up. Soft white hands stroked his rippling black cock. Soon her red lips and slippery pink tongue joined them, swirling around Miguel's length before driving her mouth over him.

Mia stretched her jaw wide as Miguel filled her mouth. Her head shifted backwards as his head quickly nudged against her throat. Within a few moments, the two of them found a rhythm, Mia's lips and teeth gliding back and forth over Miguel's length, covering it in a sheen of her saliva.

Mia gasped and gulped, her lips glistening, her cheeks flushed. She reveled in the feel and taste of him in her mouth.

Miguel stood with one hand on his waist, the other running his fingers through Mia's soft lengths of hair, every so often reaching down and fondling her shapely sloping breasts. The warmth within her mouth was the most pleasurable moment he had experienced during his entire trip, he was certain.

She didn't look up, but Mia could hear him breathing, a sigh of approval coming up from his gut. It drove her on, her head bobbing back and forth, her hand rubbing up and down his length faster and faster. She pulled him out and lashed him from his tip to his sack with her tongue before plunging down upon his once more.

The moment seemed endless, and boundless. Both of them were still surging towards an unknown peak of unhindered lust.

With a husky grunt, Miguel pulled out from her mouth, his swollen length shining and dripping with her saliva. He was taken over by pure instinct now, truly a predator, pushing Mia down onto her back on the sofa, raising her leg onto the back rest, spreading her apart, before sliding onto it himself.

Mia, still gasping and swallowing in a vain attempt to settle herself watched the dark figure of Miguel loom over her, prowl over her. It was so ominous that, despite what she had been experiencing, an uneasy sense of doubt crept through her. She tried to conjure words in her head, something witty to take the edge off the moment. She was always good at that. Yet that was futile. One look in Miguel's searing eyes and she realized she had to brace herself no matter what she said.

Miguel handled his hardened length with confidence, rubbing the head against her belly and inner thighs. Then he dragged the length of it up and down along the line of her slit.

Mia's eyes were locked onto his now, her hand gripping his forearm. Her body ached with anticipation. Enough talk. Enough teasing. Enough temptation.

Her mind raged, “Just fuck me, dammit.”

With that mental cue, Miguel steadied his shaft then drove into her with one steady thrust.

“A-ah...ohh!” Mia squeezed her eyes shut as he entered her.

Their crotches met as he filled her completely. For several impossible seconds he stayed inside of her, pulsing and throbbing, enjoying her warmth, her wetness, and her softness. Slowly he withdrew, almost his full length, before surging into her once again drawing another sharp cry of pleasure from Mia's lips. His speed and tempo steadily increased and soon he was pumping stiff, relentless thrusts into her.

Mia gasped and moaned, her whole body shaking upon the sofa as he poured on his heated strokes.
Miguel was a large man in every sense of the word, she was experiencing first hand. Every fibre in each hardened muscle in his body was working now to well-tuned perfection filling her with thrust after thrust of hot lust. She dug her high heels into his kidneys, scratched her nails into his arms and the back of his neck barely just holding on. As the muscles in her crotch clenched, she felt every swollen inch of his cock as it passed in and out of her.

“Come on, Mia,” Miguel urged with a deep, raspy breath, “Up.”

He withdrew for a moment and pulled Mia up from the sofa. Moving her at will, he repositioned her, bending her forward over against the back of the sofa.

Mia's breaths quickened then strained as she gasped, “Ahn!”

Miguel slammed into her from behind, his crotch crashing against the rounds of her butt as he thrust into her once again. He dug his fingers into her slender hips and fired his own forward with impunity over and over.

“Ah! Ah!” Mia's head snapped back with each rough stroke of his cock until she felt Miguel's fingers twist themselves into the strands of her soft hair and back, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

The ripe flesh on Mia's bottom was glowing pink after not so long as it slapped against Miguel's crotch. He looked down, admiring the sight of his cock sliding into the attractive woman's tenderness.

As she looked up at the ceiling, Mia stared on one small dot above her and listened to her own breathing and pounding heartbeat. It allowed her to focus her mind for one brief moment on a single thought: Had she really only met this man that night, less than an hour ago?

That thought, along with the others, were ripped from her head as she found herself moved from position-to-position upon the sofa at Miguel's whim as their torrid session continued.

With Miguel on his back, Mia sank herself down over his length with a shudder. Hands pressed against his chest, she rode him furiously, her long hair falling across her face constantly. Her tummy rolled seductively as she matched the cadence of the dark stallion.

“Oh! Oh fuck!” she cried sharply each time he bucked his hips upward beneath her.

Strong hands took hold of her at her waist and flipped her over, back against the sofa. Once more he was upon her, above her, her ankles on his shoulders, toes, still in high heels, swirling through the air. Miguel was working her hard, banging his swollen length into her as fast as he could. Both their bodies were aching and glistening with sweat and oil now. Fingers clench and dug into cushions and into flesh as they strained to hold on.

“Ah! Oh God! Miguel!” Mia moaned aloud. He responded with unintelligible grunts and groans and a rough grind of his hips.

Mia's belly muscles tightened painfully as she sucked her lips into her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly, his raging thrusts making it impossible to look straight anyway. She scratched at his arms before digging her nails into his dark skin. Finally, she loosed her breath and cried, “Ahh-uhhn!”

Once more she flowed freely upon Miguel, drenching his length even as he continued to thrust into her. Her climax coursed through her like a river of warmth and electricity and she reached out to it, letting the explicit sensation take her away.

Hearing the lovely woman cry out was most satisfying but it flicked a switch in Miguel as well. The blood rushed to fill his swollen cock and every other muscle felt like they were about to tear apart.

With one last, stiff thrust, he threw his head back and groaned, “Huh-hn!”

One harsh stream of jism jetted from his cock into Mia. Miguel breathed deeply and held his breath as he withdrew and handled his length. He stroked it once with his palm and another stream of viscous, white cum splashed onto her trembling flat stomach all the way up to her milky white breasts.

Mia felt his sticky jism pool at her belly as her chest hitched for air. Her face was red like an apple and her entire body tingled like never before. Looking off to the side, she felt Miguel shift off the sofa. A hand was at her head, raising it, turning it and suddenly her gaping mouth was filled with the mushroom tip of Miguel's moist cock. The pungent smell of their mingling fluids filled her nose just as their taste filled her mouth. Her tongue circled the entire area of the head of his cock, wiping it clean before swallowing with one swift gulp.

Miguel slid behind her on the sofa and pulled her in close, wrapping one of his strong, dark arms around her. He was just as spent as she was. Mia turned her head back and they kissed.

As they settled down, their bodies craving rest, Mia for a moment about asking him more questions about himself. Instead, she smiled to herself and figured if “Miguel from the Dominican” was good enough for her before they entered his hotel suite, then it was good enough for now.

After a few minutes, she did manage to coax her voice to ask, “How about that glass of water?”

“Certainly,” Miguel replied, “We could use a bit of refreshment before the second half of tonight's event.”

* * * * * *

In the early dawn, Mia and Miguel walked hand in hand out of the hotel, down the steps to two awaiting taxis. They kissed once then Miguel led Mia into the first taxi, paying in advance for her trip home.

The driver of the second taxi put Miguel's luggage into the trunk before asking him which airport terminal he needed to be dropped off at.

As the taxis pulled away, neither Mia or Miguel looked back, but both had lingering hints of a smile on their lips.

“Oh, shit!” Mia said, snapping out of her funk. Half-way home, she finally remembered something. She pulled out her cell phone from her purse.

“Sylvie?” she asked, “Did you get home okay. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but that's okay,” Sylvie replied, dreamily, “Where are you?”

Mia hesitated, grinning crookedly. “Um. I'm at home,” she said.

There was no response. Perhaps a yawn.

“I just wanted to say that I am so sorry that I just walked out like that last night,” Mia said trying to think on the fly, “I...I don't know...I wasn't feeling too well...”

“That's okay,” Sylvie answered again, calmly.

Mia frowned. Her friend was taking her disappearance rather well. Actually, now that she thought about it, there were no missed calls or messages from Sylvie on her phone, either. Maybe it was better to just let it go for now.

Feeling more assured, Mia asked, “So any matches last night?”

“Yeah, a couple,” Sylvie replied, “I'm not betting on any of them, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Mia said, “I know what you mean.”

“Mia?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I don't think I have to treat you to dinner next week,” Sylvie said with a melodic voice.

Mia could hear her smiling on the other end. “Wh...what?” she asked, frowning.

“Try to get some sleep, Mia,” Sylvie giggled, “8 minutes is probably all you need.”

“Sylvie...did you...?”

*Click*
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