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We had just finished dessert when I excused myself from the table. Teetering in skyscraper heels and a tight black dress, I moved through the restaurant, feeling his eyes follow me. The sun had long set over the city, and Sydney Harbour sparkled 250 odd metres below. I was woozy on celebratory champagne and wet with excitement for my boyfriend’s next birthday surprise.
I veered towards the bathroom and then, when I was sure I was out of sight, ducked into the lift and jammed zero. Silently urging the elevator down, I typed out my text message, hands shaking with nerves.
Reaching George Street, I picked up my pace and hit send.
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“Look for the envelope on my seat.”
I pictured Rob's reaction, confused and leaning across the table to retrieve it, with a key card and white note inside.
“Come find me. Room 437 at the Hilton.”
I arrived at the hotel breathless, clattering heels across the tiled floor, and shot upstairs to the room. Unzipping my dress, I slid it down my body, over a black lace suspender belt and stockings.
Reaching into the wardrobe, I pulled out the costume I had handmade from his favourite movie - a khaki green shirt, I’d adorned it with American military insignia from the film and wore only that over my lingerie. With just three buttons done up, my cleavage, held together in a black lace bra, spilled out over the top.
Spinning around the room to light each candle, I had just pressed play on ‘Take My Breath Away’, when I heard the knock at the door.
Standing in the middle of the room, commanding hands on my hips, I answered, “Come in.”
Taking three steps inside, he stopped suddenly, his dilated pupils taking in my body, desire steaming off him.
“Oh my god.”