ONE
She's hot and she knows it. I notice others in the bar sneaking glances at her then at me and then see the puzzlement on their faces as they seem to ask themselves, "How did that happen?" I'm her mentor and she's come along with me to the PDR, the project design review - a heady thing for someone just out of college. But when you've been to a few million of them like I have over the years, it just becomes a week of grueling all-day meetings, restaurant food within the company's per diem, and sleeping alone in the sterile hotel room. Yeah, it's refreshing to have a pretty young engineer along for the ride. Even if she's young enough to be my daughter and her thigh keeps brushing mine as we nurse our drinks at the bar.
To this point, talk has been about the two days of meetings and I know we're hitting the make or break point where we either start talking about our personal lives or just call it a night. Twenty years married, I'm well aware of the cliché of the business trip affair so I begin to wrap up the conversation.
I look at her fully in the bar mirror and our eyes lock for a second. The words of leaving were stuck in my throat, caught by the frank expression, open, her eyes fixed on mine, not looking away - I feel my face flushing. Her cheeks are flushed as well and she smiles. Her hand touches my thigh and I realize that the accidental brushes all night were not so accidental.
I blink away dangerous thoughts and put my hand over hers, giving it a little squeeze, my mind registering how soft and warm she is and then filing that information away for later, for when I beat off to the empty hotel room. "I'd better head up to the room. Big day tomorrow." I let go her hand but she keeps it on my thigh, her eyes peering at me in the mirror, a not-so-subtle invitation.
Her hand slides over and caresses the bulge in my pants and she squeezes, the same little squeeze I'd just given her. I lean into her, smelling the soft floral perfume that had been taunting me these last few days and whisper in her ear, "Samantha, I'm flattered. And I'm horny. And I'd better go."
I dutifully move her hand, squeezing it again, fumble for my wallet, pay the tab and walk away, not looking back.
Hotel rooms all look the same, all feel the same, and the things we do in them are probably all the same. I slip into my typical routine - pull my laptop out of my bag, fire it up, get out of my work clothes, throw them on the small pile in the closet, slip into a t-shirt and pajama shorts, grab a bath towel to lay on the seat of the desk chair, reach for the box of Kleenex and pull up my favorite bondage porn site.
I'm rock hard and trying to hold back as long as I can, watching the pretty little blonde on my screen as she struggles so valiantly in her hogtie when I hear a soft, almost tentative knock on my door. I pause the video, glancing down at the time. 9:46. I wonder who could be bothering me at this time and the guilty realization freezes me. The knock comes again, just as soft.
I slide the boxers up, feeling the precum slime the fabric, fully aware of how hard I am, and go to the door, peering through the peephole. I instantly recognize Samantha's red hair. She's looking down the hall, but then she glances back at my door and knocks a third time.
My heart speeds up, already pumping from the bondage porn, my dick and the booze fighting with the ring on my left hand. I unlatch the door and open it a crack, peering out and into those sharp green eyes. "Give me a sec," I say, slowly pushing the door shut but her hand stops it and firmly pushes back.
"I don't mind," Sam says and the battle inside me is lost as I step away and she slips into the room, floral breeze left in her wake. I study the fire exit map on the back of the door as I swing it closed. What the fuck am I doing?
I partially turn, trying to will my erection away and my heart almost stops. Samantha Walling, Engineer I, my mentee, is standing in my hotel room wearing a sensible silk top and slacks, low heels, and is pointedly looking at the hogtied girl on my laptop screen. I take a step back, feeling the door behind me, my mind utterly void of thought as I study her face, looking for something that will give away her reaction.
She leans down and, without asking, un-pauses the video. The soft whimpers of the blonde as she struggles fills the room and Samantha slides down into the chair. I think to warn her that the towel is likely a little spotted but then I wonder that my mind is concerned with that when a young woman who I barely even know, my coworker, has found out my darkest secret in my hotel room. All alone with me. I could lose everything, the least of all my hard-won professional reputation.
"Umm, Sam, maybe - " I start to say but she turns her head to gaze at me. Her cheeks are flushed in true red-head form, her sexy lips are slightly parted and her eyes penetrate me to my core. I drop my gaze, notice her nipples are straining at her blouse and then look back up at her, nothing at all to say coming to mind.
She clears her throat, looking back at the blonde. "This is what you're into?"
"Sam, I could get fired for this. I think you should go. I completely apologize and understand this is not appropriate - "
"How does it feel?" She's still peering at the screen. "How does it feel to be tied up?" She looks at me. "Do you know?"
"Ah, Sam - "
"It's so ... hot." Her blush is full on and I wonder if she's drunk. I'm pretty sure she's horny and for some reason that eases some of my fears of getting fired. Some but not all.
"Sam, you need to leave." I say it and I know I don't mean it. A few seconds ago, when I was ready for the angry, embarrassed warning that HR would be hearing about this, I wanted nothing but her to get out so I could work on my defense, and hopefully work things out with Sam before she could file a complaint. But now ...
"How does it feel to tie a girl," she asks, eyes on mine.
I don't tell her I've only done it a few times, none of them with my wife and all before this young thing was even born. I don't tell her that my wife and I haven't had sex in years mostly due to my inability to get hard unless I was looking at a girl tied and gagged. I don't tell her what I want to do to her, right now.
"Sam - "
"I saw that movie, Fifty Shades of Grey ... it got me hot. I can't believe I'm telling you that." She unconsciously brushes a strand of red hair away from her face.
"Which is why you should get going." I start towards her. "Fifty Shades is just a movie - "
She unbuttons the top two buttons of her blouse. The very top two were already unbuttoned as I, of course, already knew. Now a fair amount of bra and breast curve is showing. A fold of her blouse catches on her straining nipple. She glances at the screen and slowly crosses her hands behind her back then sits back in the chair, pinning them there. She looks up at me, her eyes pulling me in. "Do you think you would -"
"No," I mumble. "I can't."
"Please?"
I'm sleep walking as I shuffle past her to the tie I'd folded over the other chair in the room. It was going to be ruined, along with maybe a few other important things. But I'm on autopilot now. I end up behind her. I take a deep breath, staring at her back, the tumble of red hair. I breathe in the floral scent of her. Then I gently push her forward, pulling her hands out enough so that I can wrap the tie around her wrists. I snug the end through, gently lashing them together, then tie it off. She gasps as the knot is finished.
I step away and sit on the end of the bed, watching. The muscles in her shoulders move, ever so slightly as she gets accustomed to the feeling of being tied. I can tell she's breathing hard but my view from behind her on the bed keeps me from seeing the emotions playing across her face. Beyond her, the blonde has had more tape added to her gag, the sounds coming from the laptop now muffled, urgent.
"There's, ah, safe words. If you use one I'll know you want me to slow down or stop." I can't believe I'm telling the girl who sits in the desk across from mine at work and is twenty years my junior about safe words. Then again, I can't believe I've tied her up. "Green means keep going, yellow means slow down, red means stop."
I come around the chair and lean in, catching her eyes. "Do you understand?"
She's lost. Cheeks and neck flushed, nipples fully erect, breath coming hard, eyes a haze as she watches the bound girl on the screen and works her own bound wrists. I cup her chin, the first time I've ever really touched her and whisper, "Do you understand?"
"Yes," she gasps, as if finding the voice she'd lost. "It's green ... I'm green ... but ... make it more green. Please?" She looks up at me and I think I can take her right there. Push the chair back, pop her legs up over the armrests and pound her like there's no tomorrow.
Instead, I pull her up by her shoulders and gently pull her into me and kiss her full red lips. Floral fills my nose as I feel her press her body into me and I wrap my arms around her and hold her bound wrists against her back. She tastes like the forbidden fruit that she is - heady, dangerous ... helpless. Her tongue finds my mouth first and I let her in before I exert my power over her and push back, filling her, claiming her. I hold her head as I take her lips, nibble along her neck, her ear, and finally kiss her forehead.
"I'm so turned on," she gasps, her breath on my neck as she leans into me. I scoop her up in my arms and gently lay her on the double bed. She crosses her ankles together and rolls on her side, drawing her feet up behind her. "Can you tie me like that girl?"
I nod, retrieving the handful of ties I'd laid out for the week. I'd only need one for the meetings, the rest I could use on Sam.
Sam. What the fuck am I doing? Twenty years married and I've got a twenty-something coworker tied up in my hotel room, counting my ties to see how many I can use on her. I find the chair and slump down into it. This isn't right. This can't happen.
"Green." She's looking at me expectantly, this young woman who doesn't have a clue what she's playing with. Months out of college, turned on by a mainstream bondage movie. No clue about the consequences of tonight.
"What's wrong?"
"Sam, this is some heavy shit. I'm married, we can't just -"
She's rolled over and swung her legs over the side of the bed, crunching herself into a sitting position, graceful, even with her hands lost to her behind her back. "Then don't."
