The 14th floor of the hotel and a foreign city

We had only known each other for two hours. In a hotel bar, after a business conference, one casual glance, one glass of dry martini, and a conversation that crossed the boundaries of ordinary politeness from the very first minute. Now we were standing in front of the huge, floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows of our 14th-floor suite. Below us, the night city breathed with glowing neon lights and golden rivers of moving cars. Diana stood by the window, her back to me. Her dark blue evening gown had a deep slit in the back, almost to her waist. A glass of champagne clinked slightly in her hand. "No one here knows us," he said without turning around. "We're leaving tomorrow morning on a different flight. No past, no future." “Just this night,” I replied, approaching from behind. My hand touched her bare back. Her skin was cool from the air conditioning, but it warmed up at my touch. The glass sat on the windowsill. When she turned around, there was that complete freedom in her eyes that only absolute anonymity gives a person. The zipper of her dress slid down silently. The heavy silk fell to the floor, gathering at her feet. She stood against the million lights of the city—perfect, proud, and excited. I wrapped my arms around her hips, lifted her, and placed her on the wide, smooth marble sill of the window. He wrapped his legs around me. The cold marble behind him and my hot body in front of him—the contrast was driving him crazy. Our connection was intense, almost desperate, as if we were trying to squeeze the passion we had missed out on in a lifetime into this one night. Our hot breaths evaporated on the window pane, blurring the city lights. With each thrust, Diana threw her head back, her moans echoing off the high ceiling of the room. In the morning, when the sun rose, I found only the crumpled silk sheets in the bed and a faint trace of her perfume—just as we had agreed. --- **Source of inspiration and context:** The story is inspired by the urban, bold eroticism of Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer" and the phenomenon of anonymous chance encounters. The story is based on the candid confession of a real Georgian business traveler, where temporary space frees a person from all taboos.