Erogenous Zones: Monica's Secret

Erogenous Zones

MONICA’S SECRET

Saskia Walker

Just one touch would do it—one deliberate stroke of her fingers over the ornate brass door handle and Monica would see and feel it all, every lust-filled moment that had gone on here, every breathtaking seduction. The residual sexual energy on the door handle was electric, and when she’d first felt it, she’d pulled back. It was a risky indulgence to explore it at work, it always was. As the housekeeping manager at Cumbernauld’s of Kensington, she didn’t want any of the hotel staff to find out about her rather peculiar psychic skill with objects and their sexual history. However, there wasn’t anyone around, and it had been a long time since she had indulged herself, so she was tempted.

Tentatively, she trailed her fingers down the panelled door of the hotel suite. The lingering vitality from the night before presented her with sudden, intoxicating images of a couple who were about to make love. Sexual energy pulsed up her arm, rapidly opening up an array of erotic images in her mind.

The couple had laughed as they returned to their room, stopping every few feet for open-mouthed kisses, hands roving each other eagerly. The woman had faced the door expectantly while her lover pulled the cardkey from his pocket. Before he unlocked the door, he shoved her body against the surface of the door roughly, and the woman groaned with pleasure. He pushed his cock hard against her bottom, while he told her exactly what he was going to do to her.

Going to make you beg
. He’d whispered the promise against her ear while he pulled her short skirt up around her hips, right there in the hotel corridor. She wasn’t wearing panties, and she was exposed in a public place. Unsettled, but even more aroused, the woman had glanced quickly along the corridor. A loud moan escaped her and she wriggled frantically against the door when he stroked the edge of the cardkey over her bared buttock, scratching the surface of her tender skin, readying her for what was to come.

Monica jerked back and stared at the door. Intrigued, she glanced up and down the corridor. Somewhere far beyond she heard a vacuum and Josie, the housekeeper for this

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floor, singing, as she often did as she worked. It was okay, she hadn’t been drawn in for too long.

Startled at the intensity of the experience and instantly aroused, she put one hand to her chest to level herself, closing her eyes for a moment in order to pull back. This was Monica’s gift, this was her burden—she saw and felt the erotic history of objects, imbued as they were with the sexual energy of the people who had handled them. Memories captured in time raced through her from the point of contact, memories that were specifically erotic.

This one was powerful. She’d barely made contact with the door. But they’d been right up against it, and it was often this way if the relationship that lingered had been particularly passionate, offering a secondary experience that was both delicious—and her own private form of torture. At her fingertips, she had a personal stash of mystery erotic experiences, a gift that filled her with desire and excitement, but also left her lonely and aching.

“Hey, Monica. Thanks for coming down. I picked up some lost property for your collection.”

She glanced away to where Josie had stuck her head out of the next suite along the corridor. Josie had called her to check out the suite before it was made over for the next guests, citing low-level damage that warranted repairs, but no customer charges.

“Check
these
out.” Josie winked and held up a pair of handcuffs. They flashed diamante in the sunlight that came from the window at the end of the hallway
.

Handcuffs.
Monica clutched her electronic notepad against her side as she walked steadily along the thickly carpeted hallway towards Josie.

“I would have given them to you later,” Josie commented, as she observed the way the cuffs glinted in the light, “but these look pretty genuine to me, like…they’re worth a bit, you know?” Josie’s eyes rounded as she studied the gem-studded cuffs.

Monica nodded. “Yes, of course. You did the right thing, I’m sure the owner will realise they left them behind pretty soon. I’ll log the item right way so that reception is aware I’ve got them if they ask at the front desk.”

She opened her notepad and wrote on the screen, noting the time of collection and the suite number. It was her responsibility as housekeeping manager to secure valuable lost property until it was claimed, but an item such as this would be extremely difficult for her to handle, laden as it would be with sexual energy. It was specifically sexual energy that her psychic ability tapped into. Why, she had no clue, and she’d never been able to talk to

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anyone besides her sisters about it, for fear of being branded a freak. Their grandmother had been psychic, and Monica and her sisters had inherited it from her, but her grandmother’s skill had nothing to do with sex, and Monica’s was
all
to do with sex. She could block it out, but after she’d experienced part of the story by the door, her curiosity was up about the rest, and she didn’t trust herself not to make a slip in front of Josie.

Taking the cuffs quickly, she pushed them into her jacket pocket then focused on her electronic notebook to distract herself from the heat and energy contained in the object. Even so, she felt it through the lining of her jacket, the gem-studded cuffs resting heavily against her hipbone.

“Thank you, Josie, I’ll make some notes on the condition of the suite and you can get in there and be done for the day.” She mustered a smile, and nodded at Josie. “How’s hubby?” she added, as a distraction from the seductive call the object in her pocket had on her.

Josie rolled her eyes. “You know what men are like. Honestly, you’d think a broken leg was the end of the world.”

Monica chuckled. She lived alone, but the comment made her think of her dad. “I bet he’s glad of the company when you get home after work.”

“Too right. He’s missing work and his workmates, and I think that’s been a learning experience in itself.” Josie winked.

Monica could tell Josie was secretly enjoying the unusual home situation, even while she wondered what a usual home situation was. Monica’s parents had a pretty normal setup, because her mother’s generation had skipped the psychic stuff that Monica and her sisters had inherited from the family line. That was the closest Monica knew to normal.

When Josie went back to her work, Monica let out a withheld breath. She was aroused by what she’d felt and didn’t want Josie to notice anything out of the ordinary. Monica kept her psychometrics a secret, which was not only hard but forced a lonely life on her. When she wanted to open to it, however—as she did today—it was a ticket to ride on the residual sexual energy left behind on physical objects. Returning her attention to the suite, she used her master cardkey on the door and opened herself fully to what lingered there.

Flipping the lock on the door to ensure her privacy, she pressed the cuffs inside her jacket pocket against her hip as she walked across the room. The nerve endings in her palm

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and along her flank vibrated expectantly. The room was filled with a heavily seductive aura.

How could she resist?

The suite was top end, one of the most luxurious in the hotel with a Hollywood nostalgia theme. Art deco furnishings in the sitting room led on to a bedroom featuring a massive round bed with a black lacquered headboard. A peaches and black colour scheme was carried throughout.

In the bedroom, Monica ran one finger along the dresser and saw the man standing there. The fleeting image of him revealed a polished, brutish-looking man, a man who was confident in his sexuality. He wore a leather jacket over a white shirt. His head was shaved, but for a zig-zag line of hair on one side that served to show off the attractive shape of his skull. Power oozed from his every pore.

There was a self-assured flicker in his eyes as he lifted something from the dresser. A hairbrush. He smacked the back of the brush against his palm as if testing it, then turned to where the woman Monica had sensed by the door was crawling across the floor on her hands and knees, as if headed for the bed. She glanced back at him with an expectant and mischievous look in her eyes.

Monica’s core clenched, heat traversing her entire skin as the woman reached back and lifted the hem of her skirt, pulling it up and over her hips, once more revealing her naked bottom to her man. From where he stood, he could see her glistening wet slit. The woman was aroused, and now Monica was too.

The man walked closer, and with the toe of one of his polished boots he nudged her knees further apart, making her display herself even more. The woman moaned and shifted on her knees until her thighs were wider. She let her head hang down as if she was ashamed by her exposure. It was a decadent sense of shame though, an entirely relished experience.

After a moment admiring the view, the man squatted down behind her, and ran his fingers between the damp folds of her pussy.

He told her how naughty she was, then ran the back of the hairbrush over her buttock.

The woman shivered expectantly. He landed the hairbrush on her pale buttock several times in quick succession, and when he paused her buttock had developed a rosy hue, the niche of her sex glistening even more. He turned his attention to the other buttock. Monica’s core tightened as she imagined what that must feel like, knowing it was coming and wanting it.

The image faded.

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Monica stepped quickly across the room, chasing after it. It was then that she noticed the black lacquered headboard was marked with a small dent and a scratch. It was the damage that Josie had reported. Monica smiled as she guessed what might have made the mark. Her hand went to her jacket and she rested it over the shape of the cuffs. Yes, he’d pinned her cuffed wrists up there while he teased her nipples with the other hand.

Unable to resist, she ran her hands over the headboard. The images moved fast through her mind. The woman had laid here naked and cuffed, her heavy breasts peaked and flushed. The man teased her erect nipples until she begged aloud, crying out for him.

He’d made love to her, eventually. It was what had gone before that Monica needed to know, right now. She had to see and feel the cuffs locking over those slender wrists. Urgently, and with her hands shaking, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out the cuffs. Clasping them in both hands, she lifted them above the bed, and saw it all.

“Strip,” the man instructed after he’d finished spanking her, then quickly brought her to orgasm with his fingers on her clit and his thumb inside her tight anus. She was still on her hands and knees at that point, her entire body shuddering from the extent of her climax.

Then she clambered to her feet and took off her clothes.

“Get on the bed,” he’d instructed, “and show me that wet pussy of yours.”

The woman did as instructed, feline in her grace, her eyes bright and shining from her orgasm, her face flushed. Glancing back at him while she climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, she rolled onto her back, opening her legs. She was submissive but playful, and Monica sensed their understanding of each other’s needs was fully formed. The woman’s mischievous streak fired his need to dominate her—it was an alliance that was borne of a long-term relationship. Monica felt it in her soul and ached to have even a taste of something similar, but it couldn’t be. Her peculiar gift in life was a burden when it came to actually having a relationship, because sometimes she experienced too much history and things she didn’t want to know. That was how it had been with Harry, her ex, at any rate.

The man had undressed, and his cock was erect and ready to be inside his partner.

Before he kicked his clothes to one side he pulled the cuffs out of his jacket pocket and clambered between her legs, showing her the gem-studded item.

The woman cooed and wriggled on the bed, offering her hands to him. He’d captured her wrists in one hand, locking them together. Then he moved them over her head and

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pinned them on the pillows as he probed inside her with his long, hard cock. Monica closed her eyes over the image, savouring it.

The woman cried out loudly, as if the bondage freed her somehow, and Monica’s core ached, her pussy slick. She had to find release. With her free hand, she lifted her skirt and slipped one hand inside her underwear, quickly massaging her clit before the image faded entirely. It was the look of that woman being pleasured while she was rendered physically powerless by the cuffs that pushed Monica close to orgasm. When she came, it was with the cuffs clutched firmly in one hand, the other hand locked on her pussy.

As she recovered, she stared down at the bed and when she touched it again she saw that they had slept spooned together. Neither of them had even realised they’d scraped the headboard with the cuffs. It made her smile.

At her belt her phone vibrated, breaking her connection to the night before. Inhaling deeply, Monica grounded herself in the here and now, hastening her skirt back into place.

With one finger under the phone she tipped it up and read the name on the screen. It was Arabella, the hotel director’s secretary. She unclipped the phone and answered the call.

“Monica, can you come up to Flynn’s office as soon as you can, there’s someone he wants you to meet. A man. Two men, actually.”

“Sure.”
Jesus, what timing.
She’d been summoned to the director’s office. That was unusual. She would have to freshen up before she went up there. “I’m right in the middle of collecting some lost property. Just let me make some quick notes before the suite is made over. I can be up there inside ten.” She glanced over at the bathroom. “Any clue who they are?”

“None at all, but I think Flynn’s going to ask you to take them on a tour of the hotel.