Andrew’s P.O.V.
I arrived in Paris late in the evening to spend a week with Ariana. Every year Ariana chooses a city and country to celebrate her birthday. I opened the door to the suite and Ariana sat in the straight-backed chair that had been tucked in the corner of the Parisian suite. Meant mostly for decoration, the light blue velvet of the piece felt soft and warm on her naked butt, but there was no leaning back, her rigid posture reminded her of anticipation of it. While she was expectant, she looked forward to something closer to pleasure.
The room was fragrant with the open bottle of champagne resting in its sweating bucket. I had ordered it on the way up from the plane before I landed. I stripped off my clothes immediately seeing her sitting there in the corner. We shared a glas
