A New Aspect

My fingers continued to work over my beating clitoris as my orgasm took control. I sighed and writhed and came against the glass, cogent thought a very distant memory. Inside my belly was a deep-seated thrill; a black hole towards which I could feel my hormones racing and I let myself be drawn into it. The room caved in and the city lights ahead of me danced to a blurry beat as my sight wavered.

Though not as violent or earth-shattering as before, the prolonged quaking that started as a tiny supernova in my pelvis and began to spread out to each zone of my damp body took my breath away. As it gained momentum it began to kangaroo towards the edges of my body. I wasn't aware of crying out as it reached my extremities, flushing my cheeks and scrunching my toes against the window, but the video camera would tell the full story to the couple as they enjoyed my slutty performance again and again, complete with the sound of my orgasm bouncing around their room from the phone.

Warmth spread through me in waves, and droplets of come drizzled down the window pane. Past, present and future became one and the indelible fantasy of the couple's wild, noisy lovemaking became etched in my mind; my imagination filling in the gaps that the audio and visual spectra didn't supply. I shuddered as my body stiffened, my head tipped back further and my brain filled with rapidly changing sheets of colour, nondescript shapes dancing in front of them.

I stayed that way throughout the orgasm while my sex pulsed and fingers crushed my throbbing clit against myself. As the sound of blood rushing my ears lessened, the passionate cries from the other room became sighs, then just laboured breaths. I happily listened to them enjoying the aftermath of their own orgasms.

Shortly after, as my muscles began to unlock and I detected the faint buzzing of my vibrator lying spent beneath the chair, I heard them kissing and stole a groggy look up at the pair. Her shoulder blades were pressed against the window while his hands roamed over her back and butt as he drew her into his embrace and she wrapped her arms around him. I was mesmerised and felt giddy with a combination of warmth, pleasure and gratification at what I had experienced throughout the evening. The usually unassuming girl being thrust firmly in the spotlight, performing immodest sexual acts to faceless strangers in an otherwise unfriendly city. It wasn't me; couldn't have been. Yet it was.

I knew I was never going to be the same again; the double-edged taste of danger and excitement at exposing my body and its innermost secrets to strangers -- albeit without revealing my identity -- was going to take a long time to wear off. I knew I was hooked.

The rustling of the phone brought my attention back. The couple had separated and I could see the receiver in her hand. She brought it to her head and two simple words met my ears.

"Thank you."

Then she replaced the handset and they walked hand-in-hand back into their room, leaving me with my insides still on display and just the dial tone for company. No goodbyes, no protracted awkwardness. Just a simple appreciation for my part in their fantasy. I smiled.

With some difficulty I peeled myself from the window and collapsed onto the floor, fumbling to replace the handset in the phone cradle and shut off my insistent vibrator.

I rolled onto my back, knees up, spent and glowing in the low light. With the tingling still coursing my body and lapping at the edges of my mind I afforded myself another smile. Despite the failings and faults that I still believed were present in both my body and character, there were times I just loved being me. Driving myself to these unexplored places in the name of discovering who I really was -- who I should have been all these years and was only just beginning to find out since meeting Adam -- was a belated voyage which kept reaping intense rewards. I felt I was finally getting to grips with my sexuality and closing in on the real me.

As drowsiness from the emotional high and jetlag kicked in, and my head jukebox paraphrased Eminem with "Would the real Belle Fleure please stand up", I hauled myself out of the window area, made a token effort to return the room to a respectable state and crawled, spent beneath the starched sheets.

Just before drifting off to sleep I took in the sight of my stage; the window from which I had performed so brazenly. The light caught the smudged butterfly imprint and drips of come on the glass and I decided it could remain there. Part of me wondered what the maid would think; my reckless side simply didn't care.