James The Butler

James insisted on driving and sure enough we found a motel. Nothing mattered once we were inside and I thought for sure he’d rush it, but he surprised me. That man could read me like no one ever had and he went slowly, keeping me off kilter.

I was worshipped and caressed, stripped leisurely and aroused to the point of begging madness before he slid inside me. There was love there, but unspoken it meant so much more. I clawed and gripped; he pleasured and controlled. It was a perfect concert and we did it more than four times.

It was nice to know that I had no plan in life and no certain destination but a partner willing to face it all with me. I fell asleep thinking that soon cheap motel sex would never be the same.

In the days that followed, James, of course, insisted on doing the driving, and at night he was always in control in the bed. Not that I ever complained about it. I wrote when I could and it all worked. My stories took on a new tone that the readers liked even more than my dark period.

Our routine was set, but every now and then, we’d find a little town with open minds, and the adventures never stopped. Never once did he remind me I had once sworn we would never drive off into the sunset together.

With a man like James at my side, nothing really mattered. I had everything I needed, at long last.