Edward was laughing heartily at Mr Loverman's predicament, and on the surface he appeared to be taking it in his stride. I felt, though, that his laugh was a touch laboured, and probably hid considerable uncertainty: after all, it wouldn't be at all surprising, because it's an unusual situation indeed to be confronted by a woman who strips her slave naked, ties a ribbon round his cock and makes him stand against the wall while while she makes blatant overtures to you. It's either the stuff of dreams or nightmares, or possibly both, depending on your outlook.

Accordingly, I decided to slow things down a bit by ordering food. I was hungry anyway, having had only a few bites of the lunchtime buffet in between giving Mr Loverman his orders and observing his handiwork. Edward and I supped our wine for half an hour while we waited for it to arrive, and I was pleased to note him gradually relaxing. I threw in a few jokes about Mr Loverman to test his acceptance of having a naked man in the room with us, and after a while he began to join in. I was getting there.

A knock at the door heralded the arrival of food and I rose to answer it. I considered hiding Mr Loverman in the bedroom, but rashness, and a surfeit of wine, I expect, got the better of me. I reflected that hotels must see pretty strange things all the time, and gambled that the waiter would take it in his stride. The look of horror on Mr Loverman's face as he realised I was about to open the door was simply marvellous, and I swung it wide with a flourish, ushering in the waiter.

"In here please. The two fillet steaks on the table over there, for us. The three lettuce leaves are for him," I jerked my thumb in the direction of Mr Loverman. "Just throw them on the bed." The waiter followed my thumb and noticed Mr Loverman for the first time. His eye drew a line up and down his body, before focussing on the erect, be-ribboned prick. His jaw fell open but, professional to the last, he did as I instructed and tossed the lettuce leaves on to the bed.

"Mr Loverman," I continued, "get your credit card for the man. And a tip." Mr Loverman scurried towards his trousers and hastily pulled out his credit card. At nigh on £100, these were going to be the most expensive lettuce leaves he would ever eat. As the waiter wrote out the slip, Mr Loverman rattled around in his wallet for loose change for the tip. I slapped his bare arse contemptuously and pulled a £20 note from his wallet. "Cheapskate!" I scolded. "I'll twist your butt plug round 360º if you show me up like that again." The waiter took his tip gratefully and looked mightily relieved as he slid out of the room, no doubt to tell the entire staff of the goings-on in Room 201.

We settled down to our meal, which was excellent. The fillet steaks were lightly done and nicely bloodied, with a wonderful, springy texture and dense, chestnutty flavour. The sauce was thick and rich and the vegetables firm, a lovely combination.

"You'd better get used to that lettuce," I told Mr Loverman between mouthfuls. "It's all your getting for the next month. You need to lose weight. Doesn't he, Edward?"

"Sure does. Look at those love handles."

"Can't call them love handles in Mr Loverman's case. Love isn't an appropriate word for him. More like excess baggage."

"Yeah," Edward laughed. "Excess baggage on the excess baggage."

Mr Loverman cringed at our verbal abuse, but from his still erect prick I could tell he was revelling in it. I did admire his staying power, I had to admit: he could sustain those erections for hours, with just a bit of goading from time to time. I was getting really turned on by now, the meat and wine sending relaxed messages to my body, and my mastery of Mr Loverman filling me with a sense of satisfaction. I gazed at Edward lustfully. He was about six feet tall, with light brown hair, nicely trimmed and not receding. He was in his mid-thirties and in good shape, obviously a sportsman of some type, without being musclebound. His face was strongly masculine, with full, fine features, a long, angular nose nestled below deep set, keen eyes and a broad, powerful mouth with fleshy lips. I was particularly drawn to his mouth, and longed to clasp my own to it.

Throughout the meal I flirted with Edward shamelessly, and by the end I had slipped off my shoe and nestled my stockinged foot in his crotch. From his vantage point against the wall, Mr Loverman had a perfect view, and I grinned at him as I wiggled my foot against my new lover, feeling his prick harden against my sole. I was hot and flustered by now, and opened a couple of buttons on my blouse, wafting it gently to allow some fresh air to billow around my breast and allowing Edward a fleeting glimpse of future promise. I reached over and took his hand.

"That was gorgeous," I said. Edward nodded. "I didn't order dessert. I thought we could provide our own." I smiled suggestively and Edward broke into a wide grin. I pulled my chair from the table.

"Mr Loverman," I called. "Come over here and undress me. I'm ready for a real man."