I walk into the hotel room. Trepidation is high. Outside, a storm threatens.

We get to it. We don’t have long, and besides. We’ve taken care of the small talk months before.

I’m nervous. Not old, but old enough to know better. Also knowing that this may be my only chance to know this kind of interaction.

Hes older than me. But not old. And he knows exactly what to do.

He sits on the bed. I notice he’s got a table laden with items but I can only look in his eyes as he tells me to strip, and that I can only look at him.

I slide out of my dress. My heart is pounding. I know I look far from perfect. My gaze starts to falter and his voice snaps my eyes back to him. Strip. I reach back and unclasp my bra. It slides to the floor and I reach up to cover myself and he tells me. Hands at your side. Strip. Eyes on me.

I let my panties slide to the floor and am overcome with a desperate urge to stop this. It’s too much. I can’t let myself do this. I look at his eyes and realize I have to.

Put your hands behind your head. Stand there. Keep your eyes on mine. I stand there for what seems interminable minutes while he stares at me.

Then he stands up from the bed. Picks up a small length of rope. Walks up to me. Looks in my eyes. I smell his cologne and peppermint. It mingles with my perfume, my gum, my conditioner, my nervous excitement, and the realization that through the fear, nerves, and loss of my will, I’m wet.