Chapter 1

As Mark walked into the bathroom, he was surprised at how steamy it was. Hana had dimmed the lights considerably and to Mark, it felt like he was walking through a cloud. Every sensory detail had been softened by the hanging air except for one: Hana lit a candle she’d borrowed from the room, and the thick steam seemed to allow the faint scents of vetiver and sandalwood to linger across his nose.

Through the steam, Mark took stock of the shower. It was easily 6x9—huge by any bathroom’s standard—but the oversized rain head made sure that water wouldn’t be far, even if you were seated on the built-in bench at the opposite end of the entrance. They stepped into the walk-in shower together and felt warm water descend onto their bodies as the door sealed shut. Hana pulled him closer, and he admired the beads of water clinging to her breasts. Hana’s chest heaved with every deliberate breath as Mark’s hand cupped her face to kiss her deeply. Compared to the filthy memories he’d replayed in my head, this moment was a reminder that there was as much love as there was lust in their relationship. He broke their exchange to prepare a washcloth and began to lovingly shawl the front of Hana’s body in a lather from top to bottom. As he reached your feet, he reached up and put his hand on her hip to coax her body around. He repeated his caresses from her shoulders down to the small of her back. Mark paused there, repeating circular movements just above Hana’s perfect ass. She looked at him over her shoulder, insistent that he continue downward, but he played ignorant to her silent pleading. He removed the washcloth from Hana’s body to recharge it and smiled at her commitment to stay still. The sensory deprivation that the steamy shower offered made her relish the return of his touch.

Before Mark placed the washcloth back against Hana’s smooth skin, he allowed his lips to skim the nape of her neck. She responded in kind, craning her head to the right to encourage him. He pushed the head of his cock up against her ass as he carried on, applying a hint of pressure once he reached her clavicle.

Hana responded with a long, exasperated exhale. She reached back and repositioned his cock between her legs. A familiar slickness was already running down her thighs, and despite the temperature in the shower, Mark could feel her body heat against his dick. He started to rock his hips back and forth. Instead of letting things play out slowly, Hana cupped her hand upward to keep pressure on the underside of his cock so it made contact with her clit on every thrust.

“Mmmmm,” Hana purred. She bent at the hip to allow Mark to drive his hips forward, her hand bracing against the shower wall. Mark squeezed the washcloth over her ass, the suds running down her crack and onto his cock, adding to the slickness already building between their bodies. He collected the sudsy pile on her left cheek and pressed his lubed finger against her asshole. She puckered against his touch at first but began to work her hips in circles to welcome the new sensations. Mark notched the temperature up a few degrees with his free hand.

Before Hana knew it, she was completely bent over. She realized she was completely in Mark’s control, and let her hand drop away from the underside of his cock. He paused with his cock pointed it at her waiting entrance, curious to see if she’d push back to impale herself onto him. She resisted. He rewarded her patience by pushing his thumb into her ass.

“Ohhh fuckkk,” Hana cried out. Her hips started to drive backward. Mark pushed past the first knuckle and gently pulsed his finger inside her back door.

“Please fuck me…”

Mark chose to ignore her plea and instead, withdrew his thumb and sat down on the bench. Through the steam, Mark saw Hana’s body rise and fall, a mix between catching her breath and readjusting to the void inside her ass. She reset the temperature and turned to him, waiting for her next instructions.

“Get on your knees and suck my cock,” Mark commanded.

She obeyed. Hana’s knees crashed against the tile floor as she took his cock into her mouth. She looked while bobbing up and down, so desperately seeking his approval.

“Good girl,” Mark offered. Satisfied with that curt affirmation, Hana’s right hand retreated between her legs and started to work her clit.

As much as Mark was tempted to cut her off, he liked the show she was putting on. She was writhing in pleasure with her mouth full of cock, and her first orgasm was rapidly approaching. Hana bobbed up and down faster as she crested your limit, her giving throat emitting muffled moans around his cock.

Mark was so close to giving in, to giving her the mouthful of cum she desperately craved. But he stopped and brought her to her feet. Hana’s body was freshly dazed from climax and wobbly against his supporting effort. Mark cranked the temperature to cool, snapping Hana out of her afterglow.

“Ahhhh!” she cried out as she playfully slapped his chest in protest.

“Sorry baby, as much as I want to play, we have to get ready for dinner.” Hana sighed in protest but knew he was right. They spent the next few minutes getting clean before toweling off, blowing out the bathroom candle, and stepping back into the room.

Mark had brought something specific for Hana to wear on their date night: a black minidress he’d stowed in the closet when they first arrived. Looking at it on the hanger, the dress was sensual but simple. An asymmetrical bateau neckline added a visually interesting element, and the hemline stopped short of her knee by several inches. The fabric wasn’t very thick, which meant it’d cling to Hana’s curves like a magnet. Wearing much underneath would be damn near impossible.

Mark suggestively placed a pair of 4” open-toed heels—with pin-buckle fastenings across the ankle—beneath the dress.

“When’d you have time to pick this out?” Hana said, plucking the dress out of the closet to give it a good once-over.

“I’d been eyeing it for some time and got it delivered to me at the office. Do you like it?”

“I do.”

Hana’s eyes brimmed with approval more than the words she used to express it.

Mark nodded back and pulled a pair of olive green khakis from his bag and a black button-down shirt from the other side of the closet. He got his pants on before his phone started buzzing. The surprise piqued his interest enough to look at his phone to see “Jess” on the ID.

“Hello?”

“Heyy! I saw you and Hana were in town. How long are you here?”

It didn’t click how she knew they were in New York until he realized he’d posted an Instagram story from a coffee shop before their hotel room was ready.

“Oh, actually for a few days. We decided it was finally time to spend more than five hours up here and enjoy a long weekend in the city.”

“Mmm. I’m glad you guys finally got away for a little bit. Where are you staying?”

“The Public in Brooklyn.”

“Totally your vibe, haha. Let’s grab dinner before you leave.”

“Oh, for sure. Sounds good.” It was a canned response, but he was trying to get off the phone and back to getting ready.

“Text me tomorrow.”

Before Mark could respond (and potentially find an excuse to dodge dinner plans), she was gone. She knew Mark too well. Jess was a good friend during his 20s. She was enthusiastic, charming, and petite—5’0” on a good day with 32B tits, wide hips, and a perfect, C-shaped ass that’d been nurtured from years of gymnastics and cheerleading. Her smile was bright and innocent, but her entire demeanor suggested something wilder was underneath. That mystery attracted a ton of guys (and girls) who were eager to crack her code. Mark and Jess were wingmen for each other when they wanted to hook up with someone and cockblocks when they needed to find a quick escape from a bad night out. On those occasions, there were a few “near misses” between them-It was too good of a friendship to ruin-but Mark always wondered. They’d drifted further apart anyway after she got married and moved away to New York, so maybe all of that holding back was for nothing. Hana and Mark’s excursion was the closest they’d been to her for nearly three years.

Mark shook the what ifs out of his head and walked back into the bedroom area to find Hana fully dressed, fastening her last ankle strap. From the position, her dress was hiked up scandalously close to her ass as she unbeknownstly played with the fitting.

“Who was that?” Hana asked, lowering her leg. She ran her palms downward onto her dress fabric a few times while she waited for his answer.

“Oh, it was Jess. She saw my story and asked if we wanted to have dinner before we left New York. Would you—”

“We should.”

The quick response—and Hana’s curtness—caught Mark off guard, but all he said was, “Cool”. After all, they’d all hung out on a couple of occasions, but Jess wasn’t in the friend category that would get an automatic “yes” for a dinner invite. He decided it wasn’t worth putting more thought into and finished getting ready in the bathroom.

By the time Mark came out, he saw her doing quick mirror pirouettes, admiring the way the dress hugged her body. A thin silver bracelet on her right wrist and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders to complete the look.

“Ready to go?”

Mark nodded and placed his hands against his pockets to make sure he had everything—phone, keys, wallet—before heading out into the brisk New York night. Still, Mark had been so caught up in making sure everything he’d envisioned for the long weekend was going to plan that he’d failed to consider whether Hana had made some of her own.

[To be continued…]