I’ve been getting ready. I pull up my black fishnet stocking, the tops just covered by my black dress, with jewels on the front, open in the back and with an open cut showing my navel in the front. I put on my heels and head out of the room.

It is a Scottish pub, popular after a round of golfing. I wonder if when a woman feels as aroused as I do, if sexuality radiates off. It doesn’t feel as if it can be contained.

I spy around the room and our eyes meet, piercing blue eyes. Your buddies’ eyes follow yours, to see what has your gaze. My attire says that my lust can hardly be contained. I walk across the room, not stopping until I am directly in front of you.

“I want you,” I say reaching up towards you and bring my lips to yours, pushing my body into yours and kissing you deeply, putting my hand into yours. “Meet me in 10 minutes,” I say, looking into your eyes, as I transfer my key to your hand and whisper my room number into ear. I turn around and head out of the pub…

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