Here's one she' writes in Chapter 1 of The Lover Flower under the name Nichole St. Michelle

The Room Key

by Nichole St Michelle

The party had been to honor his boss with a sales award and Rick had spent the evening talking with several witty, intelligent and engaging women. He had enough fodder for his fantasies to last for months. It was almost midnight when he finally walked into the elevator at the hotel, opened his tie and collar button and pulled the top stud from his shirtfront. As he dropped the stud into the pocket of his jacket, it clinked. He reached down and, in his right hand jacket pocket, he found a room key and a short note.

"I found you intriguing and exciting and thought you might enjoy a trip to my room. I'll be waiting for you. Room 207. If there's a red ribbon around the door handle, remove it and come in. If the ribbon's gone, then you're too late and I'll be very disappointed."

No signature. No clue that would help him decide which of the women he had met that evening might be waiting for him. Nothing. As the elevator slowly rose, he pondered. This is ridiculous. Things like this don't happen to middle-aged salesmen on a business trip to Palm Springs.

Rick wandered off the elevator at the third floor and walked toward his room, the woman's key and note still in his hand. He couldn't. He really couldn't. This was silly. It was probably some kind of weird practical joke. If he used the key he would discover some guy with a camera, taking shots of dumb Midwesterners who were stupid enough to fall for this ploy.

Or worse, he would be knocked on the head and awake to find his wallet missing. Nah. He couldn't.

He looked at the key. Nondescript. Warm from the heat of his palm. Shaking his head, he returned to the elevator and pressed the second floor button. With resolute steps he walked toward 207, relieved to see the ribbon around the handle. She hadn't gone to sleep yet, he thought and was amazed at his delight. He wanted this, bizarre though it might be. He untied the ribbon, stuffed it into his pocket and used the key to open the door.

The room was extremely dark, the light from behind him illuminating only a sofa and coffee table.

"Close it behind you," a female voice said.

"What is this all about?" Rick asked.

"Close the door and I'll explain." The voice was soft, melodious and totally non-threatening. He closed the door behind him and the room was thrown into complete darkness.

"Okay," he said, trying not to sound like a private detective from a cheap novel, "explain."

"I watched you all evening and liked what I saw. You look like a man who would enjoy taking a chance, so I slipped that key into your pocket. Was I right? Do you enjoy taking a chance?"

Despite his scepticism, Rick found himself smiling. Audacious. Ridiculous. Nervy. And, he had to admit, fun. He chuckled. "Ten minutes ago I wouldn't have characterized myself as someone who takes chances but I'm here, so I guess I am."

"I want this to be totally anonymous so I'll call you John and you can call me Mary. If it's all wonderful and we want to exchange true identities later, great. If not you can leave with neither of us the wiser. Is that all right with you?"

Rick's grin widened. This was so outrageous. "It's great."

"Tell me about you," Mary said. "Are you married? Attached?"

"Hey, you're the one who said no details, no identities, so let's just leave it at that."

"Wonderful. I was hoping you'd say that. Come sit beside me."

"I can't see my way around," Rick said. "Where are you?"

"I've moved to the sofa you saw when you first arrived. Take five small steps forward and feel for the coffee table. Move around it to your left and sit down. I'll be beside you."

Slowly Rick moved forward, and cracked his shin on the table. "Ow. It's only three steps."

Mary's laugh was throaty and warm. "Oh John, I'm so sorry." He felt a hand on his hip, guiding him around the low table and he dropped with a thud onto the sofa. The hand slipped down passed his right knee and stroked his shin. "I'm really sorry about that."

Enjoying the stroking, he waited a moment, then said, "It was the other leg."

With more warm giggles, the hand moved to the other knee then rubbed his left shin gently. "Better?" Mary said.

"Much."

The hand slid up his leg and caressed his knee. "And this?"

"Oh, that's making everything much better." Better? His cock had swelled until it was uncomfortable beneath his black tuxedo pants. The hand was rubbing his thigh, digging long nails into the flesh at the inside. He reached out, found the arm and slid his hand up to the shoulder. He encountered no clothing or jewelry. In silence, he rubbed across her shoulder to her neck. Cupping the back of Mary's head, he found her lips with his.

She leaned into the kiss, her tongue meeting his, thrusting, wanting, taking. It was like no kiss he had experienced. Brazen. Bold. It invited him to take more and he did. He tangled his fingers in short, wavy hair and moved his lips to her eyes, her cheeks, her throat while her hands wrestled with his shirt studs. Finally, as he bit her earlobe, the studs were gone and Mary opened his shirt and scratched her nails down his bare chest. "Nice," she purred. "Such soft hair." She yanked.

"Ow," Rick yelled.

"That really doesn't hurt," Mary said. "You feel like it should, but it's just very exciting. Isn't it, John? Tell me."

Rick had to agree that his ‘ouch' had been based on expectations, not reality. She was still pulling on a handful of chest hair and, rather than hurting, it was very erotic. "Two can play at that," he said, grabbing a handful of her short hair.

"Yes," she purred, "we can." Suddenly the play got a bit rougher. It took only a moment for Rick to realize that Mary was naked. His hands rubbed over naked breasts, buttocks and thighs. They grabbed and took, rolling around on the sofa until they were panting, from both exertion and excitement.

"God, you're a sexy man," Mary said. Rick felt her hands reaching for the waistband of his pants as he caressed her ribs. As she unbuttoned and unzipped, Rick fondled her breasts and pinched her nipples. He dipped his head and found a swollen bud with his mouth, nipping at the turgid tip with his teeth. As he sucked, hard, he felt her sharp intake of breath then her hand grasped the back of his neck, forcing his mouth even more tightly against her breast. "Umm," she growled. "Yes. Do it!"

Rick's hand slid down Mary's belly and found her mound, hot, pressing against his questing fingers. He explored the folds and crevices, sliding easily over the wet slippery skin. "So hungry," he said, finding her clit with his thumb.

"Yes," she said, arching her back and pressing against his mouth and his hand. "Hungry for you."

For long moments, he sucked and stroked, bit and invaded. Fingers filled her channel as her hands pulled off his pants and shorts. He released her long enough to pull off his socks and find his wallet. He unrolled a condom over his cock and, with her hands grasping his buttocks, filled her with his hard penis. It was more like two animals mating than two people making love. Hard, hot, driving, Rick found he had never felt more like an animal with a woman.

She held his ass and pounded her pussy upward onto his cock. Who was fucking whom? It was impossible to tell. Two people were taking pleasure. Taking and taking, while giving to each other as well.

Buried inside of her, his cock pulsed and drove. His mouth found her nipple and his finger found her clit. He could make her come. He would make her come. He would make her scream out her release before he came. He rubbed and sucked as she drove his cock into her. "Yes," she yelled. "Yessssss."

Although he couldn't feel her orgasm through the violence of their movements, he knew, and he came, roaring, "Oh, God, good."

Panting, they lay together on the sofa, sweat trickling down his back and covering her chest under his hands. It was long minutes until she stirred. "I knew you'd be wonderful," she purred softly.

"How did you know?"

"I just did," Mary whispered. "But it's time to go now."

"Go?" Rick said, totally puzzled. "I thought you said it was wonderful."

"It was, but now it's over."

"But you said that if we hit it off, we wouldn't have to remain anonymous. You know who I am but I know nothing about you."

Mary slithered from beneath Rick's body. "John, I know as little about you as you know about me."

He heard the sounds of clothing rustling. She was dressing. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Mary in a big bed, doze and make love all night. Now she was leaving. "But...."

"No buts," she said. The door opened a crack and Rick closed his eyes against the sudden light. "This isn't my room. I just took it for this. And I put the key into the pockets of about a dozen men so I don't even know which one you are. The ribbon was to assure that only the first man to arrive would get in. You were very prompt."

"So you don't know who I am and I don't know who you are." His eyes were slowly becoming adjusted to the light so he squinted and made out the silhouette of a woman in a long dress standing beside the door.

"No, and I don't want to. Totally anonymous sex has always been a fantasy of mine, so it will stay anonymous. Good night, John."

Rick smiled. Making love to a fantastic yet nameless and faceless woman had always been a fantasy of his as well. She had arranged it and it had been wonderful. He would return home tomorrow with a magic memory, untarnished by any trace of reality. "Yeah," he said. "Good night, Mary."

The woman left, closing the door behind her. Rick fumbled, found a lamp and flipped on the light. He blinked and, when his eyes adjusted, he gazed around the small sitting room, memorizing the furniture, the colors, the smells. Slowly he gathered his clothes and dressed. Unable to find his tie, he searched for several minutes. Unsuccessful in his search, he realized that she must have kept it. He had thought that he had seen something hanging from her hand as she left. And on the coffee table was a sheer light-blue scarf. It was hers and she had left it for him. He pressed it against his nose, inhaling her fragrance.

With a sigh, he tucked the scarf into his pocket with the red ribbon, his souvenirs of an amazing evening. Then he turned off the lights, and left.

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