Vanessa

Readers please note: this is entirely a work of fiction but it contains dark themes which some people might find disturbing. If that's you, I suggest you look elsewhere. All characters are well over the age of 18.

*****

"Dear me, that's terrible!"

Vanessa glanced up at her husband as he flicked through the morning's news on his phone. "What's terrible?"

"They still haven't caught that hotel killer, and it's been three months. You remember the story: the guy found with his throat slashed in that city hotel - and he was third in under a year! How can people do stuff like that?!"

Vanessa loved her husband for that sort of statement and smiled to herself. He was so naive; so innocent. He was continually shocked at the kind of cruelty and violence in the world that she simply regarded as inevitable.

But that was precisely why she loved him so much. He was so inherently good - without an evil bone in his body. At first she couldn't believe it. But they had been together now for six years and she was yet to find any selfish or mean flaw in his character. She had never met a man like him. Her chequered history with men - a history he knew absolutely nothing about - had not prepared her for anyone like her husband. Not her step-father, who had robbed her of her virginity at thirteen; not her so-called foster father, who was supposed to protect her when she was removed from her chronically dysfunctional family, but who beat her with sadistic cruelty; not her first run-away boyfriend who pimped her out to support his drug habit; and certainly not the drug dealer who said he would "rescue" her, but only forced her into a more degraded form of sexual servitude.

Her simple, loving husband knew none of that, and she would do anything - anything at all - to protect him from such knowledge. At 32, she at last felt safe and cosseted in the arms of his devotion. But as she lovingly watched him browsing the news a dark shadow fell across her heart. He must also never know about the deep sexual longing that those years had engendered in her: a nagging hunger that made her reach into that other world on occasion to taste the forbidden. She squirmed in her seat as an erotic heat worked through her body. Her husband's reference to the hotel murderer sparked the very sexual fire that sometimes consumed her, and that she fought hard to conceal from him. At the same time she smirked to herself: she'd just like to meet the kind of sadistic bastard who thought he could ravage and kill her in some hotel room.

She was roused from her erotic revery by her husband's voice again.

"Sorry," she replied. "What did you say?"

"I said, I do wish you'd give up your sales travelling. I know we've been through it before but I worry about you staying in those remote hotels all the time."

"And I've told you time and again not to worry. I can take care of myself." Vanessa quite liked her job as a sales rep for a medical supplies company. She got to travel interstate and stay in nice hotels. And she was good at her job. Her combined retainer and commissions far outweighed her husband's salary and gave them a lifestyle that was the envy of their limited social circle. Vanessa would often quip to her friends that she was the queen of the bedpans. From sutures to scalpels, from tourniquets to tongue-depressors she was the top trader in a very competitive field.

"And now, " she said, rising from the breakfast table to kiss the top of his head. "I have to run. I have a plane to catch."

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Later, as she waited for the boarding gate, she mused on the morning's conversation with her husband and felt the sexual heat rising from her twitching pussy to her sensitive nipples. Sex was the one area in which she and her husband were on different planes. She craved it more often and more intensely than he seemed to. She often hungered for the sort of passionately abandoned sex he didn't seem to know even existed. Not that she wanted to change that. His gentleness and his uninspired sexual techniques were part of the reason she loved him so dearly. Again, she thought how she would do anything to prevent him from learning the deeper sexual depravity that lurked within her. But it did mean she had to regularly find an outlet elsewhere. And that was one of the reasons she loved her job and the travel that allowed her to slip back to the dark side.

It didn't take her long to find a likely target. He was travelling alone - business suit - approaching middle age - slightly overweight - and most importantly, sporting a sizeable wedding ring. They exchanged smiles as he sat opposite her, and by crossing and recrossing her legs, and idly fiddling with the beads that dipped to her modest cleavage, she let him know she was interested. She felt confident he would like what he saw. Having had no children, her body was still firm and trim. Her brunette hair was stylishly cut, her make-up subtle but attractive, her c-cup breasts slightly stretched the front of her blouse and her short skirt gave him a good impression of her tanned legs. She noticed his interested response in the way his eyes met hers quite boldly and the knowing smirk on his face. Did she detect something dangerous, and therefore exciting, in his dark eyes?

After idle conversation during boarding ... and again at the baggage claim ... they shared a taxi into they city from the airport. A casual dinner invitation from him was gladly accepted and they arranged to meet at his hotel. She pocketed his business card and phoned him later from a call box to get his room number.

Throughout her business day the thought of what the night might hold kept her sexual motor humming. They had agreed to meet at his hotel room before dinner - but she knew dinner was very unlikely. In her own hotel on the other side of the city she prepared carefully for the night's activities. She showered thoroughly, taking the time to thrum herself to a mini-orgasm, then dressed in matching black panties and bra and an anonymous dark blue shift and low heels. She dropped her make-up and other essentials into her handbag and was ready.

She slipped into his hotel through a side door, to avoid even the remotest chance of seeing someone she knew, and by the time she was knocking on his door her whole body was electrified with urgent need.

She stepped into the room at his invitation and before he could speak further she pressed a perfectly manicured finger to his lips and pushed him slowly back till he had to sit on the edge of the bed. His dangerous smile implied his complicity in this bold seduction. She dropped her handbag on the bedside table, then began a ritual she knew very well - a sexual dance controlled entirely by her. As he gazed at her in silent excitement she stepped away from him and slowly stripped. She swayed gently as she stepped out of her shoes - kicking them aside - then slithered out of her dress. His eyes bulged as more of her flawless skin came into view. She danced in a slow circle as she meticulously folded her dress and placed it on the desk. She took time slipping off her bra and panties and placing them neatly with the dress while he goggled in amazement. All the while, as she exposed herself to him, she idly wondered if he could be a killer: could he perhaps have the dangerous darkness within that made her respond so heatedly? She slowly twirled in front of him using her finger tips to caress her belly, tweak her nipples and then - teasingly - to swipe the lips of her glistening cunt and raise the moistening fingertips to her own lips. Only then did she pull him to his feet and help him to discard his clothes. She was gratified at his willingness to comply - no nervous hesitation on his part - but an almost arrogant smile as he contemplated the apparent sexual delights that awaited him.

Once stripped, he exhibited a better body than she had expected and a generous cock that was hard and ready. She pushed him down on the bed again and crawled between his legs to begin sucking on his purple headed phallus. She had never done this to her husband - he had gently rebuffed her initial attempts - so now she delighted at the taste and feel of a hard cock in her mouth. She licked up and down the shaft - alternating with hard sucking and lunges that made her gag - then paused to slip her middle finger into her mouth, making it slick with saliva, before sliding it slowly into his arsehole. He grunted in surprise but then moaned with rampant excitement. It made his cock swell further in her mouth and his balls bunch tightly. She sucked on them - each in turn - making him groan again and lift his arse to drive against her questing finger. She felt the familiar vibrations of impending release and stopped immediately ... letting him calm and regain control.

"Not yet," she chided with a sly smile. "I want that hot cum deep inside my cunt." Her dirty language and the thrill that infused her body from dominating this stranger raised her own excitement till she hovered just on the edge of orgasm. But she wanted that feeling to last. She stepped up onto the bed, straddling his body, then bent her legs to bring her swollen pussy down onto his mouth. He responded enthusiastically - and to her gratification - quite skilfully. He worked his tongue over every part of her quivering gash, laving the outer folds, then sucking on her inner lips and teasing her distended clit with the tip of his tongue. He trapped her thighs with his hands to pull her harder against his mouth making her gasp and cry out with pleasure. She shifted forward slightly and he responded immediately, flicking his tongue over her rosebud and - in response to her "fuck yes!" drilled his tongue-tip into the tight pucker. She responded with a strangled "aaaaarrrghhh" and with her own fingers rubbing her swollen clit - and his wet tongue fucking her arse - she tipped over the edge into a swamping orgasm. Her juices flowed from her, covering his face as she rocked and swayed to the pulsing climax. She plucked at her own nipples, twisting them painfully, to extract the full force of her orgasm - then, as the tide of excitement ebbed, she slid down his body to kiss him and suck on the tongue that had just been jammed in her quivering butt-hole. Lying full length on him, she savoured the small aftershocks of fulfilment, moving her hips slightly, using her drenched cunt to tease the tip of his rock hard cock. She then sat up and stretched luxuriously, flattening her breasts and tummy in a way she knew would excite him.

"Mmmm," she teased. "You are a dirty boy aren't you?" But she silenced his reply with another finger to his lips, then squirmed down his belly to engage his cock head in her soaked quim and slowly work it into her body. He grunted in appreciation as she raised herself slightly to engage his length more comfortably, then sank down to wedge his thick girth tightly inside her. Their moans of pleasure were mutual as she began a rhythmic fucking of his cock. He watched enraptured as she rose and fell above him, his glistening tool appearing and disappearing into her tight folds. The tug and press of her slick cunt lips seemed to mesmerise him and she grabbed his hands to press them onto her breasts, encouraging him to hurt her. He complied by twisting and pinching her nipples, making her moan and shudder as she relentlessly rode his cock. This time, when she heard his breath shortening and felt his cock swelling within her, she didn't stop him. Instead, she clenched her pelvic floor to tighten her grip on him. Her own excitement rocketed in concert with his and she forced a middle finger into his mouth, making him wet it, before she reached back and slid it into her own needy arsehole. The combined effect of his cock and her finger was too much for her and she almost screamed with pleasure as the contractions of her cunt milked him of his cum, and she felt the longed-for spurt of his hot spunk deep inside her body.

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His hotel room shower was hot and strong as she carefully washed away all evidence of their activities: cleansing her body of all his liquids. She was always very careful like this - no lingering odours or marks that might betray her wicked activities to her loving and trusting husband. She dried herself thoroughly and dressed carefully making sure her pristine clothes left no traces behind. She paused at the door and looked back into the room for one last check. He was still lying, inert in the centre of the bed. His blood had long since stopped spurting and now merely seeped out under the influence of gravity, swelling the dark pool around his head and shoulders. She ran through the checklist of possible evidence in her mind - nothing left behind, all fingerprints wiped clean, the scalpel secured in its bottle of bleach in her handbag. She checked the deserted corridor then quietly closed the door and descended the fire stairs to the side door of the hotel. Again, doing everything - every possible thing - to ensure her husband remained ignorant of - and protected from - the violent realities of a dark, dark world.