escort diary® of Estela Cruz: The Second Kind of Night
I remember the sound of my heels in the hotel corridor before I even reached his door.
There’s something about walking into a luxury hotel knowing exactly why you’re there, dressed to be admired, desired, undone. When the door opened, his gaze travelled slowly, deliberately, like he was taking his time committing the moment to memory.
Inside, the room was dimly lit. City lights flickering through the windows. Jackets were set aside, glasses poured. Conversation hovered just long enough to tease close enough that I could feel the shift when politeness gave way to something far more intimate.
He watched me. I let him.
I’ve always loved flirting in silence, a slow smile, a glance held a second too long, the kind of closeness that makes the air feel heavier. There was an ease between us, a confidence that allowed desire to unfold naturally rather than be rushed.
The bed, the view, the quiet hum of the city below, everything became a backdrop to that delicious tension that exists when two people know exactly what they want. Time softened. Movements slowed. Attention sharpened.
When I finally left, the room still felt warm. The kind of warmth that lingers. He didn’t say much, he didn’t need to. His expression said everything.
Some hotel rooms are just places to sleep.
Others become part of the memory.
I adore the second kind...
Estela Cruz xx
