The ambience of the hallway in the penthouse was resplendent. The kind that enveloped you with coziness, making it impossible to sever yourself from the warmth.
The long corridors were demarcated by flush doors erected a few inches away from each other, on both sides of the hallway.
The Interscope interior decoration on the wall highlighted the room in its full glory and form.
Orla shrouded her shocked expression from Callan. She shouldn't expect any less from a five-star hotel. She looked down at her fingers that were protectively interlocked with Callan's, and a smile parted her lips into two. She had never felt so safe.
She swirled her head, her loud giggles piercing her husband's ears as she walked closely beside him.
Callan's lips twitched in a small smile. Her company was one thing he'd never joke with. Even the littlest things about her were consequential to him, he loved them and wanted to know every detail about his wife. She completed him so well.
"Did you book a room for us?" In a split second, she studied the hallway.
Chandeliers dangled from the tall ceilings, the lights they emitted were as bright as day.
Orla ducked her head, the lights were directly shimmering on her face. It was as if they were exposing her to the world, murmuring to everyone that she and Callan were about to indulge in some unholy acts.
She wasn't far from squealing when that thought struck her mind. Unholy acts with Callan were like jaunting to a land of glee. Every bit of the act was always enjoyable.
Standing in front of the room he had booked for them with a swipe card in his left hand, she dangled her feet on the floor, eager to hurry in as soon as he swiped the card to unlock the door.
"You don't like hotels?" He asked, opening the door to the palatial room.
The room's aesthetics were girly. Blue and pink wall paintings. Blue lights that barely gave prominence to anything in the room. As they walked in, Callan flipped the switch to a white bright light.
A well-laid king-sized bed with a pink and blue duvet took more than half of the room, leaving little space for the media shelf that housed sets of electronics and a flower vase.
The windows were tall, the wardrobe as large as their closet at home. There were two couches for relaxation and a centre table in between.
A glass door stood in place of a wall at the other end of the room. Orla sighed after she was done feeding her eyes. Callan had done well, so well.
She wanted to respond to Callan that she didn't like the idea of camping in hotels because she had seen in movies what people do there. But the moment she glimpsed the luxury room, her crude idea of immorality in hotels flew out the window and vanished into thin air.
"I do like hotels." Although that was the first time she was stepping foot in one.
"I guess we will visit frequently then." He closed the door and snaked an arm around her tiny waist. "Happy Birthday to you, Orla."
She wasn't certain why Callan kept repeating those words. But they sounded nice, it'd been years since she heard someone wishing her a happy birthday and it felt good that her husband didn't cease to wish her today.
"Do you like the room?"
She stayed on a spot, scrutinizing the room with her eyes. He blinked, wondering if she didn't like it.
"If you don't like the room. I can change the hotel and make reservations somewhere else. This is their premium room, they don't have something better than this, Orla."
Wiggling her head in confusion. Who said she didn't like the room? In fact, 'like' was an understatement of what she felt about the room. She didn't even care if the room was nice or not. She would stay anywhere as long as she was with Callan.
She perambulated the room and halted in front of him. Giggling, she threw her arms around his neck.
"This is perfect!"
There were red rose petals scattered on the bed, a big blue teddy bear, a pink fancy basket decorated with pink and blue ribbon and flowers.
"I don't know if you like teddy bears. But even if you don't, there is something else that you will like in there." He pointed at the package on the bed, a mixture of smile and doubt visible on his facial bones.
"Should I check?" She asked him, already moving towards bed.
"Sure," he nudged her with his hands and she heeded.
Leisurely, she strode toward the side of the bed that was compressed with the package. When she was standing close and Callan was a few inches away from her. She hurriedly grabbed the teddy bear, but it had to be handled with gentility since it was larger than her.
She stopped hauling the teddy bear, proceeding to check what was in the basket. A kitten was peacefully sleeping in it but meowed when Orla touched it.
Tears gathered around her eyes as she reminisced about the times with Betty before she died and how she rejected the cat Callan got her.
"A cat?" Her voice dropped shakily.
"Orla." Callan finally joined her where she stood, eyes never leaving the cute kitten Callan just got her.
"I wanted to get one like Betty but I couldn't find one. They are the same family, but different colours. Do you like it?" He meticulously wiped tears from her eyes.
There was a silence that stretched for minutes. Callan's heart was beating loudly and faster than its usual pace. It was her birthday, and all he wanted to do was to please her. He didn't want her to reject the gift he got her.
After different thoughts about a birthday gift, it was only a cat that crossed his mind.
"Orla—"
"It's perfect, Callan." She cut in. "She's perfect, thank you so much." This time, she was the one holding herself back from bursting into tears again.
Callan had done too much, more than she expected.
"Then will you accept it?" His excitement accelerated when Orla nodded, stretching her hand to grab the basket.
"She's so cute. Thank you so much, Callan. I love her already," she played with the ribbon that was used to beautify the kitten's head. "Who did this to her?" Orla asked, laughing.
"I did. I wanted you to find out her gender without saying a word." He stood close to her, stroking her hair as she stroked the cat's fur.
"I have secretly wanted a black cat." Her eyes were on the cat the whole time she stood next to Callan. "What should I name her? Do you have a name on your mind?"
"Betty?" Callan suggested, but Orla declined.
"I loved Betty, but I would like to move on from her. Another name will be suitable. So what do you think of?” She asked again.
"Out of ideas for now." He ducked his head to take a look at the cat.
She was awake, rubbing her paws against her eyes like a little child would do.
Callan smiled. He had never found cats adorable until Orla brought Betty to his house. He grew to like her, but she died before he could get any closer.
The cat's blue eyes dimly shone. Orla made a sound and she responded by meowing.
"Meow, meow, meow."
"Oh, she's hungry. Did you get her food?"
"I did! Over there," he pointed to a side of the room where a cartoon was placed.
Orla sighed. He sure had everything in control.
After they had fed the cat and put her to sleep. Orla placed the basket on the centre table and joined Callan where he was perched on the bed, scrolling through messages on his phone.
"Huh," she knew Callan didn't bring her into the room just to show her a cat. There was more to it.
"Now. What do you want to eat?"
"Callan—" she shrugged her shoulders.
She was so filled with joy she didn't remember that she hadn't tasted anything since morning.
In celebration of her birthday, she had planned to prepare a special delicacy for herself and Callan before they came to hijack her from the house. But even with the fact that she hadn't eaten, she wasn't peckish.
"I don't know. Is there something more?" She pressed her lips together, avoiding his eyes. "The garden, the room, the cat and it's getting dark. I don't know, I feel..."
The words hung loosely.
"You feel I will fuck you?" A smile popped on his lips. "Do you want me to?"
"Callan, I didn't say that. Oh my goodness, I never had that on my mind.... Oh, what?” She was confused.
His naughtiness always drove her crazy and too bad she didn't do well to hide it.
He laughed softly, staring at her. "You are my wife, Orla. These things shouldn't make you shy anymore. You can have me whenever you want." He called to her with two fingers.
When she was seated in between his legs, he stroked her fingers and inhaled the scent of her hair.
His hand travelled down to her breast, he grabbed one of her small cups and pinched it gently. Orla shut her eyes, stifling her moans.
"Hmm," her shoulders jerked when Callan bent to kiss her clavicle. One of his hands was still handling her breast as the other hand travelled down between her legs, parting them.
He slid his fingers into her thighs and rubbed them on her panties. There was no way she could keep muffling her sounds, so she burst out.
He rubbed his fingers on her sensitive part. "You are dripping wet down there."
She shook her head in agreement.
"So how do you want me to help you out?" His fingers continued the torture on her panties. His other hand was now on her lips, bringing them forward to meet his.
"Anyhow you can, Callan." She surrendered to his superiority.
He now owned her life and could do whatever he wanted as long it resulted in her bursting out with pleasure at the end.
"Relax. Let me take care of you." He smirked, withdrawing his hand from her panties.