He'd traveled most of the day in hot weather, so shortly after checking in to the hotel, he headed straight for the pool. The water felt good, and after swimming a few laps, he found a lounge chair, settled in, and relaxed in the waning sunlight.
He looked forward to the next few days. A relatively new employee at his company, he was pleased to be sent to his first trade convention. He was excited at the prospect of learning a lot about his new field and meeting professional colleagues from around the country. He was happy, though, that it wouldn't be all work -- the convention was well-known for a lively social scene, and that definitely appealed to him.
After a couple more dips in the pool, it was time to get ready for the evening's events.
The convention's program simply said, "Opening Reception," but he'd been told by co-workers that this was a gala not to miss. A mouth-watering buffet, an open bar and a live band that played late into the night gave this reception a reputation that had spread through the industry.
Freshly showered and dressed in the prescribed "business casual," he descended to the hotel's main floor, found the registration booth, and claimed his convention badge. He then followed the directions to the grand ballroom, where the reception was beginning. The room was huge, but already teeming with people. He found the buffet even better than he'd expected, and soon had a plate stacked with food.
Happily fed, he began circulating around the room. He knew a few of the people, and conversations with them led to meeting others, and soon he was in the thick of fast-paced networking. When the last of the food was taken away and the band started playing, he realized how quickly time had passed. With the start of the music, a few brave souls ventured onto the dance floor.
He'd lingered in one group for some time, entertained by fascinating and sometimes hilarious stories about "the old days" recounted by veterans of the business. Engrossed in the stories, he was startled by a hand on his shoulder.
Turning around, he faced a stunning, athletic blonde.
"Hello," she smiled.
He stared silently, transfixed by a feeling that he should recognize her. After a few seconds that seemed like hours, his brain unlocked the memory.
"Mary?"
"Yes," she replied, grinning broadly.
"Wow -- I haven't seen you since, well, since we finished high school."
"That's right," she said. "It's been more than ten years now."
The memories started cascading into his consciousness. She was the Homecoming Queen, the majorette, the captain of the girl's swimming team, the daughter of a wealthy businessman -- in short, the closest thing his school had to royalty. She always had been polite and spoke to him when they were in school, but to him, she had epitomized the unattainable. She was extremely attractive and every guy in the class seemed to have a crush on her, but few had ever summoned the courage to even ask her out. He certainly hadn't.
And now she stood in front of him, smiling. Reaching for his hand, she summoned, "Come on. Let's talk."
He followed her to a spot near the dance floor where there was some empty space. They spent the next few minutes catching up on the years since high school.
After a short break, the band resumed playing, and started a slow-dance song. Mary grabbed his hand and headed for the dance floor. He didn't dance much, but wasn't going to miss this chance. On the floor, she grasped his hand firmly, planted her other hand solidly on his back, and took the lead.
He could hardly believe what was happening. In their school days, he would never have thought about even asking her to dance, and here she was pulling him tightly against her as they moved across the floor.
As she pressed him close to her, he immediately noticed how good it felt. Her body was firm and athletic, just as it had been in school. As the music continued, he noticed her hand moving around his back, to his shoulders, then back down, then from side to side.
"She's checking me out!" The thought raced through his mind. He started becoming aroused by her action. The two reached a darkened corner of the dance floor just as the music stopped.
When they stopped dancing, she suddenly put both hands firmly on his ass.
"Clench," she said in her low, husky, sexy-feminine voice.
"What?"
"Clench your butt." Her voice carried a tone of authority he was unable to resist.
When he complied, she moved her hands carefully and slowly over the thin fabric covering his tightened glutes.
Her examination done, she moved her hands upward to his back and smiled.
"Very nice. I saw you at the pool earlier. I'm impressed -- most of the guys in our class have put on fat, but you've put on muscle. What are you doing? You didn't do any sports in school."
"Running, some weights, some swimming and bicycling," he replied.
"When did you start this?"
"In the service, then I just continued. I really like being fit."
"So do I," she grinned.
She led him off the dance floor, keeping hold of his hand until they were again away from most of the crowd.
With a serious look on her face, she drew him closer.
"There are a few more people I need to see at this reception, and I'm sure you need to make a few more contacts, too." Her stare became more intense. "I don't want you to leave this room without seeing me first. If I leave first, I'll find you. I want to see you later."
He nodded assent. She gave him a smile and quick pat on the shoulder, then blended gracefully back into the crowd.
He stood in shock, unable to move for several minutes. He hadn't thought about her, or his high-school days, for years. Now the memories came cascading down like a landslide. He recalled the sights -- her waving like a princess in the homecoming parade, prancing at the front of the band in her skimpy majorette uniform, and, of course, looking ravishing in her swimsuit at competitions. If anything, he noted, she was more attractive now than then. And, unbelievably, he thought, she now seemed interested in him.
He circulated around the room more, but no longer was able to concentrate on business. He managed a few short exchanges with people, and finally found a group where he could pretend to listen to an ongoing conversation while his mind focused on Mary.
After an undetermined time in this trancelike state, he saw Mary approaching. He turned and walked to meet her.
She handed him a business card.
"My room number is on the back. Be there in 20 minutes."
He nodded, and she walked away briskly.
He noted the time, then headed for his own room. With his head still buzzing in disbelief, he entered his room, nervously got a glass of water, then sat down to stare at his watch.
"Am I really going to her room for the night?" The thought seemed as unreal as it was exciting.
Her room was several floors above his, so he tried to calculate just how many minutes it would take to get there. When the time seemed right, he headed toward the rendezvous.
