Many thanks to Jenna for first editing and improving this story, to author/editor
ColetteJulie
, whose stories are so hot they'll melt your eyeballs, for further editing and suggestions that inspired me to make it much shorter and better, and to author/editor
Amela
, who plays with readers' minds in her unusual stories, for additional fixes and inspiration to finally solve the problem of the protagonist's motivation.
The high school slut was looking at me.
She sat at the other end of the bar. I recognized her instantly though it had been more than twenty years since I last saw her. Damn, she looked good!
My hair was thinner and I had gained a few pounds. For Catherine, it seemed as if time had stood still. If anything, she looked hotter than when she was young.
I felt a stirring at my crotch and laughed at myself. She was turning me on the same way she did when I was a pimply teenager. I wondered if she recognized me. She was with a young man who wore tight clothes that showed off his muscles.
As I looked at her, I imagined myself at eighteen again, in my senior year, lusting after her. A couple of things she had said to me had given me the impression that she had been approachable. Why didn't we ever get together?
She was the most beautiful girl in school, as well as the most developed. And she was insatiable at a time when most girls were scared of sex.
She was notorious for offering herself to every boy who said something that made her laugh or did anything to please her. She didn't seem to discriminate by race or looks, but the rumor was she turned away bullies and conceited rich guys.
The girls hated her, but most of the guys treated her with respect. There were a few who tried to put her down and call her names, probably because she had rejected them. But every guy I knew who had been with her told me that she was awesome, and that they would drop everything whenever she summoned them.
Her voice startled me, and I snapped back to reality. She and her friend stood in front of me.
"Hi Ronnie. How are you?"
"Great, Catherine! And you?"
"I'm fine. This is my friend, Harold. I was telling him that we were friends in high school, but we never hooked up."
"Ummm...I don't know what to say."
I think I got red in the face because she laughed.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you look cute when you're embarrassed?" she asked. "Don't worry about Harold. He knows all about what I did in high school. Did you ever wonder why?"
"I hope you forgive me for being a clueless, sex-crazy teenager. I didn't even think about what was happening in your home. You always seemed so positive and happy. Now I realize it was probably an act to cover up some terrible mental or physical abuse. I can't pretend that I wasn't eager to have sex with you. I was just like the others. For some reason, I never did."
Catherine smiled.
"Yes, you never did," she said with a sigh. "What you just said about me -- I've heard it so many times when I've run into kids I knew in high school. But it's all wrong.
"I wasn't abused or raped or anything like that. My family was as American as apple pie, and my brother and sister were like all the other kids. My life changed in seventh grade. Sex education really turned me on. I started experimenting, and I couldn't get enough of it! I still can't."
I saw her eyes light up and decided to change the subject.
"Do you live here?"
"No, I'm staying at the hotel and leaving tomorrow. How about you?"
"Me too," I said. "I've been in town on business calls. It was an exhausting day, and I've got an early flight. It was so nice running into you. Let me buy you and Harold a drink before I leave."
"Thanks, but you don't have to."
I heard a change in her voice tone from the polite friendliness that she had been using. It sounded like every word was perfumed with lust, and her eyes were gleaming as she looked at me. I glanced at Harold and wondered if he noticed.
Hearing that voice and seeing how good she looked, I would've jumped at the chance to take her to bed, except it was too late. I'm happily married, and even though I was out of town at a hotel where nobody knew me, I would never cheat on my wife.
I'd fantasized about adultery when I had to travel on business. After a day packed with meetings, I'd sometimes end up at the hotel bar for a drink. I saw a lot of beautiful women, most of them probably hookers, and I imagined things, but I never approached anyone and politely turned away those who came on to me. It was safer to watch porn in my room.
"It's my pleasure," I said, waving over the bartender. "Would you please take an order from this couple and put it on my room?"
Catherine ordered a martini, Harold a beer.
"Put it on Room 3016," she told him.