I was a sophomore in college, and it was my first time going to New York City — but in more ways than one, it was not at all the first time I’d planned for.

I thought I would be enjoying a long romantic weekend with my boyfriend. I go to school upstate, and they give us a mini-break in mid-February. It would have been perfect timing for Valentine’s Day, but go figure: I got dumped; or technically, I dumped him after discovering he was hooking up with someone else.

Even though I felt like locking myself in my room and crying all weekend, I had already paid for my bus ticket and found a great luxury hotel deal, so with my friends’ encouragement, I opted to go solo. I had no idea what was in store for me as I wheeled my suitcase into the opulent lobby. A tall blonde girl who couldn’t have been much older than me was behind the reservation counter. “May I help you?” She asked in an accent that I recognized from my Russian history seminar.

She had these unusual dark grey eyes, and pale blonde, almost platinum hair that fell in perfectly straight sheets all around her oval face. A stylish black sheath dress hugged her sylph-like frame. She looked like she belonged in a fashion magazine.

I tried not to stare too obviously. “Uh, yes. I’m here to check in.”

Her smile was instantly warming. “Welcome! Do you have a reservation number?”

I nodded and handed over my printout from the booking site.

“Give me just one moment.” I felt my neck and head tingle at the sound of her voice. She was so soothing and at once mesmerizing to watch as her well-manicured hands tap, tap, tapped on the touch screen.

“Ah, I found you.” She smiled again. “I see this reservation is for two?”

I flushed red. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry — I tried to change it.”

She shook her head. “It’s no worry,” she said, parsing her English grammar. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “So it’s just you this weekend?” Her eyes seemed to penetrate into my being as she added, “The guy — he is — not coming?”

I felt more tingles and nodded. “Nope.” And I must’ve looked a little sad, because she reached out and touched my hand.

“It’s no worry,” she repeated again. “Now let’s make sure you have good time!” An elfish grin appeared on her face. “I will make some changes.” Tap, tap, tap. I could have watched and listened to her all day.

“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble,” I began.

But the Russian pixie was having none of that: “I’m going to hook up you — hook you up. It’s no worry!” she giggled. “We have a spa package, and it would be end up being less than what you paid for a room with a jerk who’s not here.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. “Really?”

She nodded and tapped the screen again before programming my room key. “Here you go,” she said.

“Wow!” A suite upgrade and spa pass.

She giggled. “Now, I am Mila,” she gestured to her brass name badge. “If you need anything,” she touched my hand again, “you just call the desk.”

“I tell you what,” Mila continued. “I get off at eight. If you meet me in the hotel bar, then you won’t be by yourself, and I show will you some cool places, yes?” She wrote her cell number on the back of a business card and handed it to me.

My sweet, naïve self didn’t register the fact that she was hitting on me, but I was so grateful for a friendly face that I readily agreed.

Mila was true to her word about showing me cool places. From the hotel, we embarked on a short walk to this Russian piano bar that felt like it belonged in a movie. A huge white grand piano stood in front of the seating area, which had soft, low lights. We settled into a booth, side by side and had delicious small plates — and lots of vodka. As we imbibed, I learned she was from Moscow but was attending school in the city. And her hotel job was part of a hospitality internship, but go figure: She wanted to model, too.

“It would be a waste if you didn’t model,” I smiled and finished the last of my vodka, grimacing just a little at the burn. “I mean, you have a great body — and you’re tall, so anything looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Mila giggled. “But you know something?”

“What?”

She leaned in and whispered in my ear: “I don’t think you know how sexy you are.” And as she said this, her hand came to rest on my thigh.

Suddenly I felt pure electricity zinging from my tingly head directly to my clit. I’d kissed girls for fun on a dare at a couple of frat parties, but this was the first time I’d ever felt like I wanted to have sex with another woman. The look on my face must’ve said it all, because the next thing I remember, Mila took my hand and led me out of the bar.

In no time we were standing in the hall outside my room. The second I unlocked the door, Mila pulled me into a passionate kiss. My knees turned to jelly, and I could feel the juices pooling in my panties.

Mila slipped off her fur coat and helped me unzip my parka. We took our time kissing and peeling away all of our winter layers.

As I stood before her in my pink bra and panties, Mila led me over to the bed.

“I’ve never done...” I began.

“It’s no worry.” Mila kissed me again and climbed on top. She slipped off her bra and tossed it on the floor. I felt an immediate rush as I took in the sight of her breasts. Per her figure, she had naturally smaller boobs but great puffy nipples that I later discovered were sensitive.

I reached up to feel her breasts, and Mila leaned over, kissing me again as she wrapped her arms around me and unhooked my bra.

“Mmm — beautiful.” Mila smiled and cupped my breasts. Then she kissed her way down my neck and engulfed my left nipple with her mouth, licking and sucking.

After she teased my breasts, Mila kissed her way down my navel and then paused when she came to my visibly wet mound. She inhaled sharply as if savoring the scent of my arousal and then tormented me more by kissing and licking both of my inner thighs as she stroked my panty-covered pussy.

I moaned a little and squirmed, desperate for her to take off my panties.

Mila looked up and made eye contact again. “I want to taste you. Do you want that?”

“Oh please, yes.”

Still teasing me with my damp panties, she moved aside the crotch to peek at my glistening wet lips, which she separated and spread with her fingers. “Mmm, so sticky wet.”

I felt her tongue on my clit next, sliding up and down the hood and then all around the sensitive pearl. I had never been so turned-on before, even when my ex and other guys had gone down on me. Mila knew what she was doing.

She trapped my clit between her fingers and darted her tongue swiftly back and forth.

“Oh, God!” I squirmed more and closed my eyes.

That’s when I felt Mila removing my panties and spreading my legs wide. I opened my eyes and saw her dive into my pussy. Her tongue was almost snake-like in the way it probed and penetrated every nook and cranny of my pussy — and it was unrelenting.

My breath caught in my throat as she teased the entrance of my pussy and stroked my clit with her fingers. Then I felt her fingers going inside of me — first one, two, then three — I was stuffed full but so soaking-wet that I couldn’t get enough.

I bucked my hips widely into her fingers while Mila licked my clit. “Oh God, don’t stop!” I cried out. In no time, Mila had me coming, but it would be just one of many times that night. As I lay there reeling from the orgasm, she pulled her fingers out of me and had me taste my own juices.

Then we kissed again. I was determined to try her out, too, so I started to work my way down her body as she had done to me, but Mila stopped me: “Here, let’s try this.”

She had me get on top of her, so we were 69ing, which meant that my ass and pussy were wide open to her probing tongue.

As I darted my tongue between her smooth shaved pussy lips, I felt her fingers exploring me again. I tried to focus on getting into a rhythm of stroking and sucking her clit with my tongue, but Mila’s expert techniques made that almost impossible.

Her tongue was back to dancing on my clit again, and the sensation made me cry out, but Mila’s pussy muffled my cries. Then I felt her tongue move from my clit all the way down around my asshole. I’d never felt anything back there before, so the new sensation made me pause completely.

And then I felt her fingers sliding inside of me again, but with the anal nerves stimulated, it was a whole other level of arousal. It wasn’t long before I came again.

Once I recovered from orgasm number two, Mila agreed to let me make her come. I made her sit on my face and immediately got to work. Once she came, my face was soaked in her juices — a proud moment for me, a total novice pussy-eater.

She stayed the night in my room and returned the next night, too. Sadly, I had to return to school, but as my Russian pixie would say, “it’s no worry.”

When I start my internship in the city this summer, Mila’s going to be my roommate.