It was just too painful to watch him run.
January 7, 2017 Journal Entry
I went down to meet him at the front door of the Henry Clay and we road up in the elevator. Again with the self-conscious looks, and the uncertainty on our faces. I opened my shirt, and his hands and his mouth were on me. He followed me down the hall, his hands on my hips, pushing me forward.
This time, we went straight to my room. I went into the bathroom and changed into my negligee. When I came out, he was on his side, propped up on his elbow, his legs casually crossed at the ankles. Naked except for his yellow argyle socks.
I joined him with much anticipation. I was not disappointed. He was laying with his side next to me, touching me, and then he rolled on top of me, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slid into me. I opened myself to him and received him wholly. It was exquisite.
A short time after, he hurriedly dressed. I rode down with him in the elevator, asking when he could come again. I asked him twice. Preoccupied, he brushed a kiss across my cheek. Then he was gone.
That was the last time I rode down with him in the elevator. It was just too painful to watch him run.