The Show Must Go OnThe Show Must Go On


With great relief, I finally walked into my large and well-appointed hotel room with stunning views of the city. It should have been a pleasure.I had been travelling since the early hours, but my feet ached in my heels and I had the start of a lingering headache. This was not my deal; it had originated in our western office, but the agent had been taken ill and my name had come up as a substitute.I was, to put it mildly, feeling a little pissed off. I should have been feeling pleased to have been nominated to close such an important deal but my daughter was due home from university that day, and instead of being home to greet her I was here, hundreds of miles away in a strange city.I had eaten on the train. Coq au vin, or so they said, and it was strangely bland and somewhat rubbery, but I guess it served its purpose. Anyway, I could focus on kicking back and relaxing rather than sitting alone in a hotel restaurant.Stepping out of my heels, I started to unzip my skirt as I headed for the bathroom.The bath was a decent size, and I turned the water on and waited until the steam had started to build before adding a generous squeeze of foaming almanbahis bath essence.Slipping out of my skirt, I tossed it onto the bed before throwing my blouse and undies toward the wardrobe.I tugged the hygiene seal from the toilet and sat to release a long and satisfying stream into the water below. It was a basic need of nature but after a long journey, a real source of pleasure.Checking the bath, I found the water to be a little on the hot side, so I added a little extra cold water before slipping into the sea of fragrant bubbles.The vanilla essence calmed my senses, the warmth relaxing my muscles, and I felt the tension lifting from my body like a cloud.Closing my eyes, I listened to the silence around me. After the hustle and bustle of the train from London, the quiet hum of the extractor fan was almost soothing.I stayed like that, cocooned in my warm fragrant sanctuary until the water started to chill prompting me to pull the plug.Standing, I turned on the shower to rinse my hair.Away from the warm water, my nipples immediately perked up in the cooler air and I cupped my full 34Cs letting my fingers tease my puffy brown tips.Rinsing almanbahis yeni giriş my long dark hair, I paused to admire my body in the mirror opposite. I was thirty-six years of age and with a grown daughter, but I knew my figure was still good with toned, muscular legs, flat stomach and not too much droop in the breasts. Proudly, I cupped them once again.So why had Roger, my poor fucking excuse for a husband left me for some skanky twenty-something girl from the nearby housing estate?Ignoring these thoughts, I rinsed out a face flannel and wiped away my makeup and then, without warning, the warm cloth made its way between my legs.I’d never withheld sex from Roger, indeed sex with a good hard fucking was one of my favourite pleasures.The roughish texture of the cloth felt so good against my pussy. I rubbed and teased my lips, feeling my arousal build.The warm water was still cascading over me as my fingers went to work. One hand teased my nipples whilst the other explored my now slick pussy, opening myself up and spreading my juices as my need to cum intensified.Roger’s leaving had killed my libido, but the show must go almanbahis giriş on as they say, and I was open for business again it seemed.Gently rubbing that cloth against my clit triggered an almighty orgasm.Crying out in pleasure as my legs buckled, I slowly slid down the tiled wall, my body surrendering to its much-needed release.ooOOooAfter a double gin and tonic from the minibar, I wrapped myself up in a large fluffy white gown and lay down on the rather comfy double bed.I checked my phone for messages expecting to hear from Robyn that she had arrived home.There was nothing, but I then remembered my new video doorbell and hastened to open the monitoring app on my laptop.I saw the postman, a charity collector, the local neighbourhood busybody with yet another circular she thought we should all read, and finally there was Robyn’s car swinging into our drive, too fast as usual.I watched as my beautiful, lanky, blonde daughter stepped out of her vintage Citroen 2CV.Where her bright blue eyes and silky blonde hair come from I haven’t a clue but she’s now the sole highpoint of a piss-poor marriage and I love her dearly.I had not had a chance to tell her about the doorbell or the little wi-fi cameras that cover the inside of the house. With a toggle of a switch, I could turn the intercom feature on, and with a sudden urge for mischief, I switched to the indoor cameras.

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