I knocked three times, in quick succession, on the hotel room door.

Almost immediately, from inside the suite, I heard the unmistakable sound of stiletto heels on marble, echoing louder as my date for the evening approached. As usual, I hadn’t requested much information from my booking agent about the woman — now unlocking the door — with whom I was scheduled to spend the next two hours. Her name (Nadine) and her apparent choice in footwear (sexy) lifted my hopes just before the handle turned.

The door slowly swung open to reveal a petite woman with short dark hair and blue eyes, fine features accented by light makeup, and porcelain skin reflecting the light from the hallway. She smiled warmly, revealing a gleaming set of perfect teeth, before averting her gaze from mine.

Was I sensing shyness or something else?

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, moving in close and planting a kiss softly on her cheek.

She quickly closed the door behind us and began down the marble tiles toward her suite’s living room. “Come in, please,” she instructed in a sultry Southern drawl. “Have a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied playfully. I knew the floor plan of this room like the back of my hand. This was a high-end suite. Two bedrooms, three bathrooms. The only more-luxurious rooms in the hotel were reserved for the high-end gamblers whom the casino bosses flew in to drain millions from at the tables. As I entered the living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the visual feast that is the Las Vegas Strip, or, as I like to call it, “my office.”

She approached a large couch and motioned to the coffee table directly in front of it. “Your money is there,” she said, referring to a bank envelope — the only item on the table. “You can count it if you want.”

“I’m already coming!” She barely got the words out before her entire body began to spasm.

“Thank you, but there’s no need,” I replied, chuckling. “I can already tell you’re trustworthy.”

I slid the envelope into my back pocket and took a seat on the couch, expecting her to join me. Instead she continued past the couch and toward the bar. A chilled bottle of champagne…

Nadine lifted the bottle. “Would you like a glass?”

“Yes, please,” I answered, turning to get a good look at her as she faced away.

Her sheer — obviously designer — cocktail dress clung to her curves with perfection. And what curves they were: toned shoulders and back funneled to her tiny waist. Her ass was a tight bubble barely hidden by the high hemline of the dress. The definition of her legs and calves made it clear that she rarely skipped a day in the gym. The heels, which had announced her moments before, must have cost thousands of dollars. As she turned to pour the second glass of champagne, I noticed her large breasts (at least D-cups) pressing firmly against the fabric of her dress. No bra. Hard nipples.

She returned to the couch, handed me a glass. “I’m not very good at small talk and, to be honest, I’m kind of nervous,” she whispered, averting her gaze from mine — again.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’m easy,” I said grinning.

She took in a long breath. “The reason I hired you is… well, I don’t think that I can get what I want, dating-wise, from anyone. Maybe I could, but I guess I don’t want to waste my time looking for something so hard to find. I’m 45, and my husband divorced me two years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. It was very unexpected and I’m just now starting to go out into the world again. He was 20 years older than me, very powerful and successful, so he took care of me… at least financially. He left me as secure as I could ever hope to be.”

“I can tell you loved him very much,” I said gently.

“Yes. I still love him. We had an intense and passionate sex life. He was dominant and I loved submitting to him. I loved pleasing him. It fulfilled me. And that’s my problem: I want a man who’ll dominate me, but be gentle and caring at the same time. I don’t think I can find that on the internet… or in bars. That’s why I wanted to hire, um, you know… someone like you. Am I weird? Is this weird for you?”

I put my hand on her leg and looked into her eyes. “Nothing you’ve said is weird. It’s beautiful.”

She kept my gaze this time and spoke in a sultry half-whisper. “I’ve spent all day thinking about this. I’m very turned-on right now. Can we start? You can be strong, forceful, rough even. I trust you not to hurt me.”

I gently wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her toward me and kissed her deeply. I slid my other hand up her thigh and continued tracing her body up to her breasts. Her implants were so good they almost felt natural. I pinched her rock-hard nipple through the sheer fabric. She arched her back and let out a soft breath. I moved from her lips and lightly bit her earlobe, while applying gentle pressure to the nape of her neck.

“Yesssss,” she moaned.

I stood and brought her to her feet, turned her body to face away from me, and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her ass cheeks pressed against my now hard cock. Her back arched as I began to run my hands up and down her body. I lifted her dress to her waist, brushing my fingers lightly against her pussy. No panties.

She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her throat. I held it lightly, but she moved her hand over mine, encouraging me to apply more pressure. Then she guided my other hand to her pussy, which I quickly discovered was dripping wet. She let out a few quick gasps as I rubbed her clit. She was really getting into it… and started grinding her now exposed ass cheeks against the front of my pants.

She leaned her head back and whispered into my ear, “I’m so wet, I’m so horny, I don’t want foreplay, I want you inside me now. Right. Fucking. Now!”

In what felt like a single motion, I bent her over the arm of the couch, unbuckled and dropped my pants, slid a condom over my raging hard-on, and entered her warm, tight pussy. After only a few slow, deep strokes, she arched her back and her legs began to shake.

“Oh, my God, what the fuck? I’m already coming!” She barely got the words out before her entire body began to spasm. Her legs gave out, but I managed to hold her up.

Still inside her, I positioned her on all fours on the couch and continued with the same measured pace. Her orgasms came one after the other. I counted seven before she tapped out, turned to face me, and sat on the cushions.

“I was really not expecting that,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, my God, I needed that so bad. You have no idea.” She smiled broadly and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Ma’am,” I replied, in my best cowboy accent, “I aim to please.”

“Well cowboy,” she replied “I hope that’s so, because we’ve still got another hour… and you got some more riding to do.”

PHOTO: Getty Images/ Eryk Fitkau