Room 304

Chapter 1

It started with a simple hunt on Craigslist under M2M. The title read, "Out-of-town Businessman Seeks Stress Release This Evening." I clicked on it and saw a pic of what was clearly a well-built man in an extremely nice suit. The pic didn't show the face, but that was pretty common on Craigslist. The text of the message read, "In Atlanta for a conference. Have this evening free. Would like to meet fellow businessman for drinks and maybe a little more than vanilla. Reply to suit&tied94939@hotmail.com"

It was one little letter in the entire posting that made me go forward. That tiny "d" at the end of suit&tie meant I had a good chance of meeting a fellow suit and tie fetishist who enjoyed some bondage with it! I clicked on the e-mail and wrote: "Live near downtown Atlanta and always interested in showing our visitors true Atlanta hospitality. I'm Robert, btw, and loved your photo. I've attached one of me as well. I'm free this evening and would love to meet, at least for a drink." I attached a pic of me in 3 piece suit, also not showing my face as yet. If this guy was like me he'd be studying the pic for the quality of suit, the crispness of the shirt, and the tightness of the necktie knot. We'd get to faces eventually.

I fired off the e-mail and was amazed when I received a response almost immediately. "Robert! Thanks for the e-mail and the pic. It would be a pleasure to meet you. I'm staying at the downtown Ritz Carlton and will finish all my conference duties at 7:00. I'll be more than ready for a drink by that point. Can I hope to meet you in the hotel bar about that time? I'll be wearing a black pin-stripe suit with a red and black striped tie. Tell me what you're going to wear and I'll keep an eye out for you! I'm Eric, and I can't wait to meet you."

There were no further pics attached, but that was okay. Obviously he was on the road and perhaps didn't have pics on his laptop to attach. Or maybe the face didn't quite match up to the body in the first pic. Or maybe the first pic wasn't even him. More than once I'd shown up for a date only to be sorely disappointed. A lot of men who were on the road a great deal didn't seem to know that practically every hotel offered a gym for their use. That's why I liked meeting for a drink first. I had a good set of escape plans if Schreck or Jabba the Hut showed up.

I fired back a response. "Will have the suit from pic on, plus light pink shirt with dark pink and green striped tie. See you at 7:00!"

7:00 was only a couple of hours away and I had a lot to do to get ready. I pulled the pink shirt from the closet and began ironing and starching. I could take my shirts to the laundry but I actually like ironing them. There was a pleasure taking a shirt from wrinkled mess to crisp as steel, and I knew it would be done right. And not lost somewhere in the bowels of a dry cleaners. I selected the rest of my clothing carefully, wanting to match the clear professionalism that this man had exuded in his picture.

And then I started my other preparations. I pulled my heavy briefcase from storage, unlocked and opened it. Some gear was there, but there were other items I needed to add. This briefcase had never seen a file or a pen in it. It was built to hold a hood, a variety of gags, several short pieces of rope, various tit, cock, and ball torture devices, and whatever else I could cram into it based upon my instincts, needs, and the hook-up's desires. Along with the standard gear I added a roll of duct tape and a new purchase, a compact electro unit along with a few devious devices to use with it. I clicked the briefcase shut and twirled the little locks that were on each latch. One more prep and I'd need to shower and head over to the Ritz. I took 2 small tablets of a muscle relaxant that I'd saved from a back injury some time ago and crushed them to dust, putting the drug inside a small vial that I could slip in a vest pocket. I'd learned a long time ago that most businessmen were stressed beyond belief and it never hurt to have a little help along. The relaxant dissolved quickly in alcohol, was tasteless, and the dose was just right to get them to be very compliant and cooperative.

I shaved carefully and showered. Dressing slowly was like foreplay to me. Cufflinks designed to look to look like tiny handcuffs were the only clue what a pervert I really was. Other than that I was quite sure I wouldn't look any different than any other man in that hotel bar. I glanced at the clock, knew I was cutting it close, placed the vial in my vest pocket, grabbed my briefcase, and headed out the door.

I drove up to the Ritz at 6:58, valet parked, and headed inside. The hotel bar was a small place just off to the left of the lobby and was quite crowded. I looked around carefully but saw no one matching the photo or description that Eric had sent me. I sighed. It wouldn't be the first time I'd been stood up. A lot of straight men in the business world ventured into gay sex on their trips. Probably fifty per cent of the time they would get cold feet and not show up. Still, it was possible that Eric was just running a few minutes late. I decided to order a drink and at least enjoy the scenery of all these well-dressed men.

I made my way to the bar and grabbed the last barstool. The bartender noticed me from the corner of his eye and held up a finger indicating he'd be with me in just a minute. Finishing a drink order he made his way to me carrying a business envelope. "Are you Robert?" I nodded. "One of our guests asked me to give this to you. He described the tie you'd be wearing and what time you'd be here. I figured it had to be you."

He handed me the envelope and left without taking my order. Opening it, I found the following message. "Robert, when I saw how busy the bar was I took it upon myself to have drinks delivered to my room. I hope you don't mind. I'm in Room 304. I hope to see you soon."

Extricating myself from an unpleasant situation would be more difficult and awkward, but doing all the preparation for this little excursion had made me extremely horny. I left the bar and made my way to the elevator. Reaching the third floor, it was only a short walk to room 304. I was determined to pull a 180 if the guy in room 304 wasn't at least close to the pic he'd sent. I knocked.

The door opened and I felt a little weak in the knees. Just as promised, just as advertised, here stood a handsome, well built man, dressed in a black pinstripe suit, red and black striped tie. Standing 6 foot two inches tall, he was a bit taller than me and I found myself looking up at him. The features that stood out were his rugged chin and piercing blue eyes. I was drinking this all in when he slowly grinned revealing a set of glistening white teeth. "Looks like I'm a lucky man," he said. "You're as handsome as I'd hoped you might be."

I chuckled. "I believe it is I, sir, who is the lucky one." I made my way in to the room and behind me he locked the door and placed the safety chain on.

I surveyed the room and was impressed. There was small dining table, a desk with laptop set up on it, and to my left was a comfortable seating area. This was a suite so the bedroom was probably in the next room behind a door that was currently closed. A small bar was set up with an open bottle of very expensive scotch on it. A large assortment of bondage opportunities existed, from the dining chairs to the desk chair, and certainly more existed in the unseen bedroom.

I turned back to Robert. He made an odd glance at the briefcase I was still holding. "I walked here from work. It was easier than having it put in my car." I lied with what I hoped was a natural ease. He took the case from me and slid it under the bar. "Scotch okay?" I murmured a yes, and a tumbler of smoky liquid was handed to me. "Cheers." We clinked glasses and I watched as he took the entire amount in one gulp. I stifled a laugh. It would be quite easy to get him drunk and I'd probably not need the little vial of relaxant I'd brought with me. "Drink up!" he said. "I want another and you haven't even touched yours!"

I took a huge gulp and felt the heat inside me churning. The scotch was a slow burn. The handsome man in front of me brought about a much deeper and very hot burn. I felt like I was on fire. I wanted to shove my face in his chest, feel the starch and silk against my fresh-shaved face. I wanted to remove his tie and place it tightly on his wrists and slowly work over his entire body, first through the layers of clothes, then remove those items one by one and repeat an even slower, perhaps more painful "working over" of each of those parts.

He handed me the glass completely refilled, his own full as well, clinked the glass and together we took a smaller drink of the straight scotch. He led me to the sofa and sat next to me with ease and a casualness that showed he was quite happy with who had shown up at the door. He rested a hand on my shoulder and with his other hand lightly touched the cufflinks I'd chosen, and again I felt the fire inside me. I fed the flames with another sip of the alcohol. He reached over and tugged a bit at my tie, straightening it and pulling it just a wee bit tighter. I could feel my face redden and my groin was stirring. I also felt ever so light-headed. I set the scotch down. I needed to slow way down if I was going to keep my wits about me. His eyes twinkled, "Feeling better?"

My mouth tried to form the words "Yes, thank you," but it seemed to come out "Meshhhh, ankoo."

"Shhh. It's okay, Robert. I guess you don't hold your Scotch very well. My fault."

He pulled me to my feet and I felt myself stumble a bit, falling on to him. He was prepared for this and I felt strong arms holding me steady. I looked up into those eyes, felt myself melt, and then I passed out.