The second suite was pristine, so I dusted quickly and moved to the third. There is no sign on the door so I use my key and walk in. I immediately check to see if the room was actually empty -- which it was -- before starting to clean.

I go to the restroom to replace the toiletries when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is a poorly groomed mess, my oversized, brown-hazel eyes are framed by the smudges of yesterday's mascara. I lean closer, studying my plain, mousey face. What did he see in me? I shake off the unwanted thoughts, grabbing the trash bag and taking it back out with me.

As I replace the sheets on the bed, I notice my hands are shaking. I clasp them together to get them to stop. The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, my heart still beating so fast. I can't stop thinking about what just happened. I can't stop thinking about him.

He's a porn star. A famous porn star. He's so good at fucking, people pay him just to watch. That may seem odd to other people, but considering my own questionable sexual background, I was in no place to judge him.

It isn't fair to think that a woman in touch with her sexuality is somehow a whore while men get celebrated for doing the same, but I dealt with the stereotype frequently. I enjoyed having sex, and while I wasn't having it -- like for the last six months -- I enjoyed watching people have sex. After being called a slut one too many times, I learned to keep my sexuality to myself, but that didn't mean I was going to deny it was a part of me. 

When I started college, it was quite the ... experience. Most people were there under the guise of higher education, but still packed full of hormones and excited to test the limits of their newfound freedom. Oh, but college boys. They might be cute, but Jesus Christ are they worthless.

The problem with college boys is that they are boys. Boys will say anything you want to hear to be able to get between your legs, only for them to do a horrible job and leave you nothing but frustrated. They don't know how to please a woman, because they don't know the first thing about us. For that reason alone, I stopped sleeping with boys and started sleeping with men.

Mickey Vale was a work of art, both in physicality and personality. I've watched him for years, literally since freshman year of undergrad, and still continue to be impressed. I haven't seen one scene with him in it that seemed like he didn't respect the woman he was with, or where he looked like he didn't know exactly what he was doing while he was with her. Mickey was a man, and meeting him in person did nothing but confirm that for me.

I lost count of the number of times I imagined what it would be like to be underneath him, how many times I closed my eyes and pictured him rather than the person I was with. I wanted him. Or at least someone like him. Yet, I had a chance to have him for real, and I said no. How stupid am I? Seriously.

I realize my breathing is labored, and I sit on the bed to collect myself.

I pull out my phone and open Tumblr. I scroll until I find his nude gif from before, then click on his profile. I scroll through his posts, watching his incredible body move, feeling my body come alive in response, only to feel the deepest sense of regret directly after.

I wanted him. Bad. But if we got caught, I would be fired in a heartbeat. 15 minutes was not worth my financial security.

But was 15 minutes with Mickey Vale worth it?

I shake off the heady mixture of arousal and remorse. I put my phone away with a heavy sigh. My eyes scan the empty room as I try to reacquaint myself with my reality. Back to work.

I shake out the sheet, smoothing, folding, and tucking it with furious speed. I replace the pillowcases, pressing them against the mattress to slip the clean cases on easier. When I go to grab the comforter, my hands grip the handles of my cart and won't let go. My skin crawls and I start to feel nauseous. I know I'm about to make a huge mistake.

I have to do this, I think to myself. If I don't, I'll regret it the rest of my life.

♡♡♡

I stand outside his room and stare at the door hesitantly. My hands quiver again, and my breathing is quick, but I know this is what I want. I knock on the door lightly.

I wait for what seems like a minute. I think of fleeing just before the door opens. Mickey looks a bit surprised to see me at first, but then a smile slowly spreads across his face. "Hi," he says, leaning his other hand on the doorframe.

"Hi," I say back. He stares at me, waiting for me to say something else. "Um. I ..." I take a steadying breath and try to collect my thoughts. "I don't like having regrets." He keeps smiling, but says nothing, obviously enjoying his little game. "So ... if it's possible, I'd like to change my previous response."

He looks me up and down for a moment, still smiling lazily. Then he steps to the side to let me in.

_____

A/N: Don't forget to vote, comment, and add to your library if you want more!