She (Carmen): I put my sandals back on as I hunted round for my bikini bottoms, but I could not see them anywhere. Eventually Roberto leaned over the other side of his bed and raised his hand with them hooked in his finger, looking pleased with himself. I crawled on to the bed and gave him a kiss. “Tell you what lover,” I whispered between liplocks, “you keep them tonight. By your pillow. Hopefully you can smell me when you fall to sleep.” With that I patted his cock and ran away, sure I was going to have to think up some convoluted story to explain why I wasn’t in my room or by the pool or in the bar. I closed the door without a backward glance, ran down the corridor some way, eventually finding my way to the right section of the floor for my own room and letting myself in. No Carlos, Brilliant. Get in the shower quick, girl. All was well – I had got away with it. He didn’t suspect and on we went, eventually, to dinner. That was painful to begin with. Beforehand I was feeling fairly brazen for obvious reasons, and wore my red summer dress which buttoned up the front. Yes I was craving attention. Carlos and I had fun, though, and I genuinely wanted to hear about his afternoon, but as our main course arrived I did get distracted when I saw Roberto sitting across the dining room with some of his ‘colleagues’. I made eye contact a few times – deadpan of course – but then with each glass of wine I got a bit more daring. I did some hair-tossing to begin with. I would casually, subconsciously, trace an outline along the top of my dress while I held my wine glass in the other hand; tumbling very slowly down my bra strap and eventually skirting over the top contour my breasts. I could feel him looking at me from the 30 yards or so away that his table was. Then, over the course of a few mock-laughs, I subtly pushed my chair back from under the table so that Roberto to my left could see my legs. Half-beneath the table, and out of Carlos’ line of sight, I gradually hitched my dress up my thigh. Just a little more, every few minutes, till by dessert it was nearly at my waist, my bronzed thighs totally on show to half the restaurant but to one man in particular, my hand constantly returning to them to attract attention to them. The waiters were like flies around shit, offering more wine and more food every minute, thinking the show was for them. By the end of the meal I realized I had a problem, though. I needed to stay down here with Carlos and get him drunk. A return to the room would mean nookie, and I just wasn’t up for it after the afternoon and with the anticipation of tomorrow. So I decided to get him drunk and put him out of action. Roberto disappeared from the scene at some point without my noticing. But his absence actually brought some relief because it meant I could relax with Carlos, act natural and not get myself into trouble. And so I got the poor guy plastered. What I didn’t bank on was the fact that this would buy me some extra free time in the morning. With Carlos nursing a painful-sounding hangover – “Didn’t you have any tequila Carmen?” – I sauntered out of the room, in a white dress and sneakers, in search of the other half of my bikini. I had only brought one, you see, and I was going to need it quickly or come up with an explanation as to its whereabouts. I made my way down to the main foyer, and found that day’s schedule for the conference. Roberto was speaking again at 9.30 – half an hour from now. He must be up by now then, I thought, and made my way back to the lift. I got out again at our floor and who was standing there but a suited-up Roberto. “Well hello!” “Hello yourself,” he said, pushing me into the lift, kissing me as he did so. The doors closed behind us, but no button had been pressed so the lift stayed still. He kissed for what seemed an age, before I pushed him away. “What time does your morning lecture end?” “About an hour from now I guess.” “OK. I’ll see you then – briefly.” “Why’s that?”