What happened last month was a mistake.

It was the first time, and it was meant to be the last one too. A forbidden mistake, a moment of weakness. Tyler had missed our anniversary celebration – which admittedly would have happened a few days after the actual anniversary due to our work schedules – because he “misremembered the date” and had taken off with friends for a Friday-Saturday escapade to go fishing near the coast. A trip he swore up and down he had told me about, so we both should have seen the scheduling problem.

As much as I loved him, Tyler had three problems: being forgetful, being late communicating his trips, which stopped us from planning around them, and he struggled to take responsibility during conflict, stonewalling me while he thought things through. That night, a month ago, all those things had mixed into the worst-tasting cocktail I had ever tasted. To make things worse, you’d only have to sprinkle in the saltiness of being left hanging at a fancy restaurant on a Friday night, wearing a brand-new dress with brand-new lingerie underneath. The look the waiter gave me when I told him the other person wouldn’t be coming was still engraved in my memory as one of the lowest points of our relationship. At least the food was great. I wasn’t going to waste the dinner reservation, so I ended up dining in my own company, and drinking enough for the bill to look as though Tyler and I had both been present.

That night, coming back home, I had stumbled into you, my upstairs neighbor. We had been courteous to each other in the past, friendly even, but our relationship didn’t stretch much past that. But I was drunk, sad, frustrated and not just mentally. Sexually too. I had been hyping myself up for that night for a while, having chosen to deny myself any sort of orgasm for more than a week heading up to it. I was all of that, and you were… there, looking at me with a puzzled expression as you held the door to the building for me, allowing me to walk in ahead of you. I didn’t like your expression, the hint of pity in your eyes, so I barked at you, asking you what was so interesting that you wouldn’t look away. You knew I was in a relationship, you must have known, given that you slept ten feet above me, and Tyler often visited and made my bed creak at night. But maybe you thought otherwise at that moment, watching my frustrated self.

You had replied to my question with something nice, something pleasant. I had looked up at you, mistaking concern for insult, but also feeling the need to lash out. Not at you, but at Tyler, for what he made me feel.

When we entered the building, I was glaring at you. But by the time the elevator door closed, I was slamming your back against the opposite mirror, lunging into a kiss. I caught you confused, but seemingly eager, given how quickly you gathered your senses and kissed me back.

The elevator didn’t stop at my floor on the way up.

It wouldn’t be an understatement to say you had eaten out the rage out of my body. After managing to tame my initial outburst, you carried me into your room, disappeared between my thighs, and only reappeared when my legs were too weak for me to stand back up. All my fight had turned into hunger by then.

It was a one-off thing. I explained it to you the next morning after finding five missed calls from Tyler on my phone. It wouldn’t happen again, and I would beg you not to mention it at any point in the future. It had been the perfect storm, just that. You had been surprisingly understanding about it, promising your lips would be sealed, but mentioning that they’d also be open to meet mine again, if I ever found myself in need to vent out my frustration at Tyler yet again.

The elevator ascension on the previous night had been filled with rage but also lust, ecstasy, hunger. The descent down the stairs the next morning, from your floor to mine, was slow, ashamed, regretful, punctuated by the clicks of my heels on the floor.

What happened last month was a mistake. It was the first time, and it was meant to be the last one too. I had spent endless sleepless nights trying to reconcile myself with what I had done. Trying to frame it under hundreds of different lights. It would never happen again.

And yet, I now stood at your door once again. I wasn’t drunk this time, but the frustration burned under my skin, suffocating any potential regrets. Tyler had another problem: he was utterly incapable of saying ‘no’ when peer pressured. Which meant that when his friends came calling, he often cancelled on me. Tonight, he cancelled on me halfway through a movie date night, halfway through the fucking movie, which would predictably have a happy ending for him.

My outfit could not be more different from our first time’s. The dress was now replaced by a dark tank top with spaghetti straps that exposed my midriff and loose grey sweatpants. And fluffy socks.

I knocked twice. A moment later, I heard sounds from inside your house. A few more heartbeats, and the door opened. I looked at you, with a glare that resembled the one from the first night. I was about to lash out again. At Tyler, not you.

“I need a drink, and I need you to talk me out of fucking you.”

If you’ve read this far, thank you very much!

The summary of this prompt is that my character ended up venting her frustrations by hooking up with her upstairs neighbor – your character. It was an intense and pleasurable night for the two of them, but she laid it all out in plain terms the next morning. She has been struggling with herself because of what she did, but eventually her boyfriend acts like a buffoon again, which pushes her upstairs yet again, albeit this time in a different mood, with a different mindset.

I opted to start us off at an earlier stage of this affair because I love writing about that sense of unfamiliarity that comes from being with someone for the first few times. There’s also a lot more unprocessed feelings, conflicting emotions to push through, bend, or outright ignore. That’s also why I portrayed the affair partner as someone she knows but isn’t super close with. Their pre-established relationship was that of a friendly neighbor with little to no interaction aside from the infrequent elevator greeting.

My character asked for him to help her not fuck him, and I mean that. I want to have fun exploring that struggle where they try to stay true to her request, even as they are drawn into each other through their conversation or repressed memories of their previous night together. This is a slow burn, and I’m not at all interested in rushing to sex after a couple of replies. I enjoy diving into the characters' minds and their emotions, even if it is a short-term fling that we don't need to stretch long-term. We can just play the first night or, if we find substance, we can stretch the roleplay into the future of their situationship. Maybe they won’t even have full-blown sex tonight, and it’ll only feed their desire for each other for a next opportunity. Who knows!

I’m very much into age gaps, so I pictured him as a gray wolf of sorts. Someone whose age signs – like wrinkles, or whitened hairs and beard, or whatever it is – add sway and charm rather than detracting from his looks. It also opens up the opportunity for him to feel more experienced, mature and, therefore, more trustworthy, which helps her not be as paranoid about coming back, or about trusting him to keep his mouth shut after that first night together.

I would say my tastes in terms of kinks are broad and not every roleplay needs to include everything. Rough sex, tender sex, romantic sex. He can be a gentle lover, a rough one, or switch depending on the moment. Above all, I like sex and roleplay in general to feel organic and to answer to the characters’ needs. I'm into oral (giving/receiving), rimjobs, anal, facials, creampies, anywhere-pies, you name it. I like playing around with the risk of getting caught, public/semi-public locations, cheating, voyeurism, exhibitionism, etc. Age gaps mixed with attractiveness gaps are probably my favorite combo, but I want you to play a character you’re comfortable with.

I strongly prefer people who jump right into character in their opening message and play out some of the scene, either adding backstory through their character's POV, or pushing the action slightly forward. In this case, maybe you’ll want to jump straight into the scene while they’re arriving to his place, on the way there, or still at the party as she approaches him, and we then step back to hash out details, character looks, etc.

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