My date and I met in a hotel room for one night of passion

One night only, we’d decided, just us (Picture: Getty Images)

I opened the hotel door to find my date, Chirag, standing there – and his mouth went straight to my neck.

It was summer, and the night was dark and hot. But in the room, I was greeted with the coolness of both the air conditioning and Chirag’s hands.

I was excited and titillated. I had never had a rendez-vous like this before. It was 2022, I was 28 years old, and had just moved to New York City. We had just met for the very first time at a hotel in Times Square: one night only, we’d decided, just us. 

Chirag turned me against the wall next to the doorway and started kissing my neck and chest. He ran his hands over my waist, then slid them under my shirt, feeling the lace of my bra. ‘Ohh, what’s this now?’ he whispered. Then he gave me a slap on my ass. 

My breath was short. I sucked in air as he kissed me, wondering what he was going to do next.

I was so excited and nervous (Picture: Getty Images/iStockphoto)

We kissed, and then we kissed some more. He grabbed my hair and pulled it back, hissing, saying, ‘We are so gonna have a good time tonight.’

Chirag and I had matched on Bumble one week previously.

I’d just moved to the city, and I didn’t want to get into a serious relationship. I had broken up with a boyfriend a year prior in my hometown, and I’d recently had a depressive episode. Now, I wanted to forget my troubles and redeem my self-esteem after lying in bed crying for months.

And, having moved to New York, I was feeling different. I hadn’t had sex for a year, but I felt bolder and more empowered. I wanted to do something interesting. 

In short, I didn’t know what I was looking for – but I was open to having a hook-up or one-night stand.

A one-night-stand at a Times Square hotel would surely amp up my sex life, I thought (Picture: Shutterstock / Gabriele Maltinti)

Chirag and I were the same age. When I first swiped right, it was mainly because of his physique. He had the smooth look of a polished model, and posed like he had plenty of confidence. I probably sensed that he would be the perfect sensual partner from this alone.

We chatted about how we would meet, oscillating between excitement and playful, sexual banter. I didn’t have a long-term vision in my mind, so I went with the nature of the conversation and entertained the possibility of a sexual fling. 

I wanted to invite him to my flat but I lived in a basement apartment with three roommates upstairs who would likely hear everything, and he lived with his cousins – who would also likely hear everything. ‘How about a hotel?’ I proposed. 

‘Oh, now that’s an idea,’ he said. ‘Let’s make it even more interesting. What about Times Square?’ 

We kissed, and then we kissed some more (Picture: Getty Images/iStockphoto)

I felt a pulse deep in my body. I had never done anything like this in my life, and it felt so grown-up. A one-night-stand at a Times Square hotel would surely amp up my sex life. It would make my energy match the city’s.

As I got ready, my nerves started to build.  I worried that, given his modellish looks, he wouldn’t find me hot. But as I got closer to the subway I realised that the only way to deal with these thoughts was to push them out of my mind. 

The hotel was a block down an avenue in Times Square. Our room floated above the city and we had a view of the lights all around us.

Chirag had arrived before me, and had left a single rose on the bed. I thought it was romantic and sweet. I caught a glance at him and was immediately turned on by his trimmed beard, his suave hair, and the chain around his neck – but I only took him in for a second before he kissed me.

We made out until we got on the bed, where we peeled off our clothes and he admired the blue lace that dressed my body. He told me he liked that I cared about lingerie. I replied, ‘I love that you appreciate it.’

We spent a good hour or so exploring each other. I was still nervous, since I didn’t know him, and was a little self-conscious.

But it ended with an explosively satisfying night.

We cuddled before we went to sleep, after the sexual tension had dissipated, and laughed at the extremity we’d just been through. ‘I can’t believe we just did that,’ he said.

He held me and cuddled me until morning – but I barely slept. I was so excited and nervous. 

The next morning, he took me to a diner not too far from Times Square, simply because we were both starving. It was only there, after the sex, that we technically had our ‘date.’

Our real date happened the morning after (Picture: Getty Images)

He said he was from India, and that he’d recently got out of a situationship. He appreciated our night together because it let him start over, fresh. He worked in tech, I was in the arts. I talked about being a writer for a little. He told me that he was afraid of not fitting in America. I listened and nodded. 

He seemed interesting, but I didn’t feel a strong connection to him, personality-wise. I was looking for someone who could match my artistic mindset. I didn’t sense that he felt a strong connection with me either, but we agreed to keep in touch. 

That was the last I ever saw of him. I thought about messaging him again, but I think we both saw it as the end of our previous chapters. After it, we could move on to new things. 

I still have his number, but I haven’t texted him. 

Every so often I imagine what would happen if I did. A repeat of our night of passion, perhaps? 

It’s a fantasy I’m happy to indulge in.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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