Victoria Hetherington reached the side of the pool, pulled back her long brown hair, and hauled herself out of the water and onto the tiles that surrounded the pool. She stood, squeezed the water out of her hair and padding over to where her towel lay, looked back to where the wet footprints trailed back to the water's edge.
Carl was a few metres from the edge and reached the side with a single powerful stroke which hardly disturbed the crystal clear water. Those wonderful shoulders flexed, and with a casual shrug he heaved himself on the side. He bounced effortlessly to his feet, his tanned torso shimmering with droplets of water as he stood and swept back the fair hair that she guiltily thought made him look like some Aryan God.
He had told her he had been shortlisted for the Olympic swimming team a few years back but had missed it through injury. She'd brushed that off as just the sort of thing men say to strange women in hotel bars, but now she half believed him, mesmerized by his broad shoulders and narrow waist. She had pictured that gorgeous body clad in the tiniest of shiny speedos. What was it they called them? Budgie smugglers? She remembered and she almost laughed out loud as she watched him approach and lowered her gaze to between his thighs. Parrot smugglers would be more apt! She realised that now as, with rising waves of lust, she watched Carl's substantial penis swaying rhythmically side by side like some hypnotic pendulum with each step he took towards her
She pulled the towel up to her body and dried the bush of hair between her legs, feeling a sudden warm flush as she remembered only an hour earlier and the sudden exhilaration and feeling of freedom that had accompanied the shedding of their clothes in wild abandonment around the pool lounger. The wonderful sex on the lounger that had followed spontaneously had been urgent and wildly adventurous. That would cause some confusion in the morning she thought, the bent frame and suspiciously stained canvas seat would certainly cause some prurient speculation amongst the hotel's pool maintenance team!
She raised the towel up her body as Carl reached her and he rubbed her down, almost too energetically, spending an unnecessarily long time and paying a deliciously rigorous attention to her breasts and nipples then working his way slowly downwards.
"Those bits are already dry!" She whispered, as the towel draped, trapped between them and his hand cupped the rough fabric between her legs.
"Not so sure of that!" He said mischievously, and soon had his doubts confirmed.
He wrapped the towel round her and dried her back, pressing into her so she could feel the length of him almost all the way up her stomach. He took his hands off the towel and it remained clamped between them as his hand kneaded her buttocks and his mouth sought hers.
Slowly the towel slipped down until it ludicrously hung draped on his erection and he leaned forward to suck hungrily on her breasts. Almost frantically her hands struggled to disengage the towel but he teasingly kept it pressed to her, pulling her into him with powerful arms and distracting her with little flicks of his tongue across her nipples.
She triumphantly pulled the towel free and his cock sprang back against her stomach with a gentle slap. She dropped slowly down to her knees, her eyes fixed on his face with a determined gaze of sheer hunger, her hand vainly trying to get a grip on his buttocks which felt like marble to her clawing fingers. He taunted her by frustratingly keeping just beyond reach. A finger nail raked his skin, then another and then more. Blood started to trickle down his skin and with a little moan, he attempted to escape, pulling his lacerated buttocks away from the relentless fingers and submitting finally to her impatient mouth.
In a dingy room, down a dingy corridor leading from a dingy metal staircase deep in the bowels of the hotel, Night Security Officer Fred Jones took another swig from his NYPD coffee mug and turned to his superior who lounged inelegantly in a battered old leather adjustable chair idly playing with the zoom toggle on his video surveillance control.
"What are they up to now Chief?" He asked impatiently.
"Blowjob." Surveillance Engineer Harry Entwhistle replied with feigned ennui, fine tuning the zoom.
"God! that guy's hung, I'm surprised there's any water left in the pool!" He observed, laughing at his own wit.
"They never quite get it, do they Chief?" Fred chuckled from his chair at an altogether less interesting monitor.
"Empty pool late at night, low lighting; It's a complete shag magnet! They honestly think we haven't got video coverage of those areas?"
"And we've got the best! High resolution, low light, fast zoom lenses, and all recording to solid state drives through super fast connections!" Harry enthused, totally confusing Fred who only really understood that they had cameras.
"Shall I go and scare the crap out of them Chief?" Fred enquired.
"Nah, let them have their fun, nip up to Reception and see if we find out what rooms they're staying in." Harry had his instructions.
"What and miss the finale?" Fred moaned.
"You won't miss it! We have to transfer it to a DVD, check it through, and give it to that twat Hardcastle in the morning." The hotel manager was a stickler for rules and no favourite of his security team.
"Roger that!" Fred did a mock salute.
"I've no doubt he will!" Cackled Harry.
Harry was right. Carl and Victoria sat afterwards, backs to the cool tiled wall of the pool room and shared a cigarette. Victoria pulled her knickers up and pointed to the prominent NO SMOKING sign.
"We are bad!" she laughed
"And, hopefully, we're going to be even worse!" Carl promised and passed her the cigarette as he pulled on his jeans.
They parted outside her room, kissed, and Carl, apologising
that he had business to attend to, disappeared down the corridor to his room. Victoria was too tired for anything but sleep, she sighed happily and let herself into her room. She showered and, with the towel wrapped tightly around her, re-enacted in her head Carl's hands as he dried her and collapsed exhausted on the bed.
She had met Carl in the bar where totally against her better nature she had agreed to let him buy her a drink. He was charming, tall, stunningly good looking and from what she could tell from the bulges and ripples in his clothing shockingly, athletic. He had one of those hard to place subtle European accents and she'd assumed 'home', wherever that was, was probably the other side of the channel. She'd taken with a large pinch of salt the lines about being in town on business, separated from his wife, etc, etc. She was having a special break and was in the mood for a little fun.
Although he had never divulged his age she'd guessed a year or two either side of thirty. He seemed to have made a success of his life whatever the hell he did and wasn't at all afraid to spend money. They'd had dinner and shared a bottle of wine and then, after sitting talking in the bar again until it closed, he'd told her about his missed Olympic opportunity and they'd wandered down to see the swimming pool. It was late, they'd had a few drinks and before she knew it they'd stripped off and with a brutal intensity that had taken her completely by surprise, had the best sex of her life. Watching him swim naked, the water refracting, magnifying and swirling tantalisingly over various parts of his body, whilst gliding through it herself, also naked and feeling its caress on her own body, was a feeling she would never forget.
They had another day together and then, back to normality for them. Carl back to wherever he came from, Victoria back to Sussex and her husband.
The Next Day.
They met, had breakfast together and then on his insistence they went shopping. Victoria had never known a man more attentive or attuned to her shopping impulses. He knew the right shops, the right designers, he listened, was helpfully critical when necessary and marvellously flattering and admiring when not. He knew her size just by looking although she admitted, blushing to herself, he had sampled a considerably more intimate knowledge of her body than any tape measure.
They chose underwear and although the bra and knickers set he'd so wanted her to try on was a little more revealing than she'd have picked herself, she had outrageously allowed him a quick peek into the changing room as she tried it on, much to his rather obvious delight. She had bought it and was planning to wear it for him tonight. They'd grabbed lunch, returned to the hotel and after a few drinks and a long exhausting session of absolutely wonderful sex, she had returned to her room to prepare herself for their final meal, and night together.
The envelope on the bed addressed to her from the Hotel Manager, Mr Hardcastle, was a surprise. He wished to have an urgent meeting about a matter of the utmost importance and requiring absolute discretion.
Curious and not a little nervous, she took the lift down to the reception and was politely ushered into his office by the receptionist.
"Ah, Mrs Hetherington. Please take a seat. How are you enjoying your stay in our establishment?" The Hotel Manager enquired.
