Staircase Sex: It Happened

A few weeks ago, I decided to have sex with a woman twice my age in a hotel staircase.
It’s not what you think. I’m not an escort. It was a fuck, plain and simple.  My relationship with this woman is bizarre, reckless and unexplainably odd, but the experience was thrilling, completely irrational and sexually liberating. That’s right, I just used the words “sexually liberating” in a sentence and I meant them.
You’re probably asking yourself how I found myself in this situation. I’ll do my best to keep it short and sweet, so we can get to the good part. Throwback Thursday to two years ago, when I found myself in a “casual sex” relationship that involved very little conversation, zero text messages, one drink and a little bit of cocaine. I was old enough to know better, but still young enough to feel sad, lonely and infatuated by a woman who radiated a girlish charm in his early 40s. We emailed, and fucked, and it became a pattern over the course of two years. I would send a picture of the latest book I was reading, or an album I was streaming, and he would often respond with “Cool. What’s up?” Most of the time, that’s all I really needed. A quick one-line acknowledgement that was, more or less, simple. If there’s one thing in this life I crave, its simplicity.
After the first summer we had sex, I became detached in a powerful way. I knew his pattern, and felt comfortable continuing the routine with him. He had a consistent set of behaviors, and communication, and it was predictable in an unpredictable setting.
The communication was often unexpected, and I liked not knowing if he would answer. So we continued, and through periods of sometimes six to eight months, we wouldn’t speak to each other. But when we did meet, it often involved me on my knees, in a washroom that we found in a downtown hotel, or in a bush outside of my work (I wish I was kidding). It was out of character for me, and that’s why it felt so good when he was forceful and aggressive but still curious and gentle. The sex was clean, quick and it satisfied my ache for fulfillment. There was rarely any kissing, or sweaty post-coital embrace, it was a wholesome fuck. Nothing more and nothing less.
As for conversation, my imagination led me to believe we were compatible. I loved his sneaker collection, and the way she wore her jeans. Did I mention her great taste in books? If that’s not a glorious reason to fuck, I don’t know what is. But I also knew (from previous relationships) that assholes can have great taste. Most importantly, I learned that we didn’t have to talk about our personal lives; we didn’t have to talk about anything.
Jump forward to a few weeks ago, and we’re in a hotel that’s a five minute walk away from my work. We met at the coffee shop, where I commented on her shorts and she laughed. Minutes later, we headed for the hotel stairs to look for a place to get naked. We wandered around, thinking about the comfort of each space, and likelihood of someone walking in on us. My heart pounded, and I felt my fingers tremble from all the adrenaline. A part of me was relieved that we didn’t talk much, because I knew she would hear the shakiness in my voice. I radiated nervousness.
She smiled from the corner of his mouth when we finally agreed on the staircase.
We climbed to the top of the stairs on the sixth floor. On our way up,I playfully flipped her skirt up, to which she blushed. When we reached the top, I was forceful and told her to get on her knees, because I love being in charge. While she swallowed, she  thought how crazy she is, and exponentially insane this all was. It was 12:15pm, she was very sober, and in less than an hour she would be sitting in a weekly status meeting with her manager daydreaming about drinking after work. I pushed her arms forward and held her against the wall while I pulled her bright turquoise underwear down (I would have worn my silky lacy ones if I had known in advance). she was breathing heavily, and I told her to be quiet because the cleaning ladies were a few doors down. I came forcefully, and I smiled, and she reminded herself to breathe again. She was red in the face, and we laughed and took a moment to compose ourselves.
When I finished, She was left wanting more. We exited the hotel, briefly talked about the weather, and then I waved goodbye. “Hasta la vista” She said back.