It Was Just A One Night Stand

Now possibly alzheimers disease in setting in, but I recall the decade beginning in the late 70s and running through at least the first half of the 80s as a time when getting laid was impossibly easy. It was casual sex, the classic sport fuck without commitment or expectations and prior to both 'Fatal Attraction' and heterosexual AIDS.

I was in my late twenties and thirties and had a very well paying, straight, unlimited commission, executive level sales job which required quite a bit of travel. I possessed all of the essential trappings of the successful sales executive. I was a good looking young guy, I dressed well in overpriced designer suits, drove a late model German luxury sedan and worked in an industry flush with attractive women. I was married to the job; the harder I worked the more money I made. Sadly, I didn't have time for a wife or kids and was too damned busy for a serious relationship.

Interestingly, my never ending search for hot young pussy to keep me entertained on the road led to me meeting the woman I finally married at the ripe old age of thirty-six. The timing couldn't have been more perfect; casual sex toward the second half of the 80s had become dangerous. Maybe more important, I'd lost the thrill of, "find 'em, feel 'em, fuck 'em and forget 'em" and was ready to fall in love and settle down with someone I enjoyed talking to the next morning.

Back then the scenery was always exquisite and, at least in the places I spent time, it was a target rich environment. I'll admit I wasn't always particular; I don't distinctly remember fucking any outright pigs but I did do a plumper or two. I wasn't alone; my peers in the industry in all likelihood were making out better than I was.

I knew a guy named Ted who had a little black book; he could dial three or four numbers late in the afternoon in damned near any city in the country and have a date for dinner and more within an hour or so. He fixed me up a couple of times; they were always young, hot, looking for a good time and ready to fuck in return for an elegant evening and a four star meal. Many were decidedly, "shop girls"; you fuck 'em but you don't marry 'em.

I flew and drove in my travels. I drove in those parts of the country that just weren't well serviced by the airlines. I liked to just drive until I either got to the small town or city in which I had an appointment the following day or knew I needed to stop for the night. I stayed at mid range motor inns, but in small town America; they're often the best accommodations in town. I paid my own expenses and seldom went hog wild on motel accommodations.

My first target was always the girl at the check in desk; if she was fine and seemed interested and got off work at any sort of reasonable time, I went for it. Pretty lazy, huh? If the motor inn had a bar or restaurant, that was my next stop. A nearby mall or shopping center was always a worthwhile investigation.

I once went into one of those one hour optical chains because the blond optician on duty, visible through the glass store front, was absolutely sweet and ordered a pair of new reading glasses to replace the ones I had lost. I hadn't lost them; they were out in the car in my jacket pocket. She was young with a soft layer of blond peach fuzz covering every inch of her sweet young face. I worked my magic while waiting for my glasses. She wasn't very sexually experienced but easily made up for her lack of expertise with sheer enthusiasm.

Decent restaurants close to where I was staying were always good places to seek out another traveling business person of the female persuasion, a bar tender or waitress. Bars, per se, were always at the bottom of my list. So, this is a story about my favorite one, an unusual encounter and a very special and unexpected dalliance.

A few times in my life I've met a young woman who just looks at you on first meeting with unmistakable interest. You know she wants to fuck you; she's a little cutie with a big smile and all the come ons.

I checked into a nice little motel in a small city/big town in South Georgia one night. It was privately owned but had been highly recommended by several other people who traveled this part of the country. I pulled up just at 11:00 PM, just as the girl at the front desk was locking the door. I smiled, pleaded and look desperate and she unlocked the door for me.

"We normally lock the door at 11:00. Most of our guests at this time of the year are regulars and they've all checked in. How can I help you?"

I told her I had a business meeting in town the next day and all of my friends had told me this was absolutely the best place to stay. She smiled, pushed the registration card in my direction and asked if I wanted smoking or non-smoking. I told her the meeting the following day might run late and I might need to stay over. Additionally I told her that I might need to meet some people and would really prefer a larger room.

"Well we actually have a two room suite, it's really nice. It has a big desk, a fireplace and a hot tub. But it's pretty expensive; it's seventy-nine dollars a night."

Seventy-nine dollars a night was about what you'd pay for a single room in a crappy Marriott---twice that in a major city. I dropped my Platinum AMEX card and driver's license in front of her and said. "That'll be great!" Then I started to check her out.

A little over five-six, nice tits busting out of a tight little button up blouse, short blond hair, a hint of freckles not a speck of makeup, nicely formed hips and big, big, wide set blue eyes. Oh yea, this'll work. I started the patter as I filled out the registration, asking her about where she was from and such.

She was attending a small private college in town. She was from another small, old historic Southern town two hundred miles north which hinted at old southern family. I asked her about school, what she was studying, what she enjoyed. We were getting along famously. The smile was growing bigger, perfect white teeth, the eye lashes were batting, the hair was flipping. Finally I asked her if there was anyplace I could get a decent meal at this time of night and just for a second, the smile was replaced with a frown.

"No, not really, everything closes by 11:00." She thought for a moment and then the smile was back. "You know there's a real nice little market not far from here which stays open till midnight...more for the college kids than anything else. And your room has a pretty complete kitchen. The market is more than just a 7-eleven; they've got fresh meat and produce and a pretty decent wine selection. Pardon my manners; I'm Kayla."

I smiled. "Jack. Jack Martin---but you already knew that since I filled out the registration and you checked out my driver's license. How do I get there?" We both laughed...hers was a very pleasant, deep woman's laugh rather than a school girl giggle.

She started to give me directions and I feigned abject confusion. "I know I'm asking a lot and if you don't feel safe I would understand, but could you show me? I can drop you off back where you live afterwards, if you like."

She thought for a few seconds. "Actually, I live here. We don't accept guests after eleven but the owners let me stay in one of the other small suites so that there is always someone on the premises when they're out of town. They're kind of like surrogate parents; I do their books, watch the front desk after nine and keep an eye on the place at night. The market isn't that far; we wouldn't be gone more than twenty minutes or so; I guess it would be okay."

It amused me that she was far more concerned about leaving her employer's place of business unprotected for twenty minutes than she was about jumping in a car with a strange man she had just met.

In any event, she was soon ensconced in the deep leather seats of my Beemer and we were at the market in under five minutes. She was wearing a short khaki skirt which slid up provocatively when she sat down giving me a perfect view of her well turned young legs. In point of fact, it occurred to me that the hem of the skirt was only a couple of inches away from her little cunt. She was not wearing hose and had the same smattering of freckles on her creamy little thighs.

I was absolutely determined to explore the unseen area at my earliest opportunity. Her lack of modesty---she made no attempt to pull the short skirt down---told me she was either incredibly naïve, not ashamed of her youthful beauty or ready to fuck.

They had great looking meat, fresh produce and an impressive, if small wine selection. We were out the door and back at the motel in less than ten minutes. Kayla found excuses to put her small hand on my arm or shoulder during our brief stay at the market; I took those to be definite buy signs. She directed me around the complex to the first floor suite at the back. Much to my surprise and pleasure, she accompanied me into the room and gave me the complete tour.

"We're neighbors; I live next door. There's no one else staying back here at this time of year, it's off season. There's a gas grill right off the room if you want to grill the steaks. You didn't actually invite me, but you did buy enough food for two and I haven't eaten since lunch so..."

I was taken by her directness. "Of course you're invited! Now it's my turn to apologize for my bad manners."

"No offense taken. Look, I'm going to run next door and change into something more comfortable; I assume you want to do the same. I'll be back in about twenty minutes---long enough?"

"Perfect." I said, closing the door and admiring the absurdly palatial suite I had just shelled out seventy-nine bucks for. There was plenty of room in the Jacuzzi, sunken on the small screened patio for two. I started it filling and turned on the gas heater which warmed it.

A quick shower seemed in order followed by a change into shorts and a light shirt. Just as I was finishing up I heard a light tapping on the door which separated the two suites. I opened the door to see the young woman, also obviously having just taken a quick shower, in front of me looking adorably cute in old shorts and a tee shirt.

She whisked into the room and spoke. "This is the only room with a hot tub; I sneak over sometimes late at night to relax and unwind."

It surprised me how quickly Kayla and I had gotten comfortable with each other. Visions of her nubile young body descending into the steamy, swirling water had me hard. She had certainly given me the once over as she entered the room. Further visions of me bending her over the side and jamming my cock inside her little quim from behind were also there. She had an absolutely fine, full but firm young ass and not a hint of panty line---and this was before thongs became fashionable.

I cranked up the grill and Kayla busied herself demonstrating her domesticity by whipping up a nice salad and microwaving a couple of baked potatoes. Within half and hour we were seated at the small table overlooking the screened patio enjoying our feast and a remarkably decent Cab.

Kayla was young; the scrubbed look, the freckles, the clothes and the school girl hair style made her seem even younger. She was also exceptionally bright and in her senior year, majoring in accounting with an econ minor. She sipped the wine appreciatively. She had a quick wit and a delightfully irreverent side; even if we didn't fuck, spending an evening with her would be a delightful experience. She had good features and would almost certainly grow into a real looker. She would certainly, "clean up well" and with a slightly different, more mature hair style, a little make up and the right clothes, would be a real head turner.

I briefly told her what I did for a living and she asked a lot of thoughtful questions. She had every intention of going into corporate America when she graduated. I asked her if she was interested in sales.

"Absolutely, but bluntly it's not easy---for a girl--- to get into sales with a decent company. I've gone on a few interviews---I have offers--- and they all seem to want to put me inside in accounting, marketing, operations or, heaven forbid, HR. Right now I've resigned myself to taking one of those positions with the best company I can find and then trying to work my way into sales. I'll graduate Summa; I've taken all of the prerequisites for an MBA program. I'll actually graduate in three months with twenty more semester hours in business than I need."

I told Kayla that while I couldn't guarantee anything, I could certainly get her an interview with my company. In fact I routinely did recruiting trips for the company since our HR people preferred having, "real people" go on recruiting trips since they more fully understood the job requirements.

When I had been hired, they only hired men and men who had done a stint in the military. The additional maturity provided a candidate who was more likely to, "hit the ground running". As that source had dried up, they were now hiring right out of college and working very hard to find top female and minority candidates.

Unfortunately, the younger folks were not always ready to jump into the fire and often needed more extensive training. Sales training had been expanded and a sales internship program had been initiated in which a young candidate would shadow an experienced sales rep for up to a year before taking over full account responsibility.

I had been through several live, video taped training sessions on the company's unique interview and selection process and was viewed as one of the better interviewers who had brought a number of great candidates on board. Without thinking, I found myself interviewing Kayla.

The particular technique was very open ended, placing responsibility on the potential hire to do much of the work. It was a deceptively relaxed and non threatening style which basically opened with the classic, "tell me about yourself". Then the interviewer would look for potential strengths and weakness and urge the interviewee to expand on those points. While the natural stress of a formal interview process was absent, Kayla handled it as well as anyone I'd interviewed. I tried to picture her in a sharp business suit sitting with our director of HR, who had an uncanny ability to peel away a potential employee's veneer and get them to reveal their inner self. I came to the conclusion that she would appoint herself very well.

My company did most of their best hiring through relationships which alumni developed at top schools. I was vaguely familiar with Kayla's college. It was small, private, formerly all female and very well respected, particularly their business school. If her peers were as sharp as she was, it would be a real plum to develop a relationship and put her school on the interview agenda.

I asked her if she knew anyone in the college's career office. It turned out that she was very active in student government, was class president and worked in the career center several hours a week. She felt confident that she could easily set up a meeting for me with the director of the career center the following afternoon.

It was at that point that I developed misgivings about trying to get in her adorable little pants. I was not the least bit tired; I had taken some customers to dinner the night before, slept in until checkout time before hitting the road and was wide awake. As much as I loved to fuck young women like Kayla, I was totally married to my company and my professional side had kicked in. I was seriously considering passing on any carnal activities. Kayla asked if it would be helpful if she provided me with a copy of her resume and went next door to get one.

Her resume was excellent and very professional. She had a history of leadership accomplishments, the right kind of extracurricular activities, top grades and was working her way through college with a scholarship. This was a resume that I knew HR and senior management would drool over; furthermore, she had the talent to wow them in the interview cycle.

I started selling Kayla on my company while also warning her that the interview process was tough since anyone could say no with little more than a gut instinct. I also told her that we didn't fool around; we'd fly her up to the company HQ, she's interview with HR, a field VP and quite probably one of the top three people in the company---all in one day---and we would render a decision and make an offer, if we were going to do so, before she left. We certainly paid attention to geographic preferences and desperately needed to grow the female component of our sales force. I talked to her about benefits, corporate culture and tradition starting salary range.

Kayla was a very confident and sharp young woman who would easily win over our top people even without the sharp business suit. Kayla seemed genuinely interested; I had decided that a very pleasant evening with a bright potential hire would be the extent of my pleasure for the evening.

As the two of us cleared the dinner dishes and put them in the dishwasher, I was unsure how the after dinner phase should unfold. She went over and lit the fireplace and poured us both another glass of wine. We sat close to each other on the small sofa. Kayla quickly showed that she was a very candid and direct young woman. Those qualities would intrigue our HR VP; his was the most common no vote and he often cast it when he was not satisfied that a potential hire was, "real" and also capable of, "going for it"...the classic, "sets tough goals and aggressively pursues and achieves them".

"Are you tired, Jack? I know it's late for most people but I've arranged my class schedule around my responsibilities here so I'm a bit of a night owl."

I informed Kayla of my schedule over the previous twenty-four hours and assured her that I was wide awake.

"Jack, I never let anyone in after 11:00 PM; not that I'm afraid, but you just never know. I can take care of myself. There is a gun under the counter up front, my gun---and I'm on the school pistol team. I also know the local police very well and they'd be at the door with guns drawn in under a minute if I hit the little red button. I checked you out through the glass door and you looked pretty respectable...well I guess Ted Bundy did too. You were dressed well; I didn't miss the designer suit, the custom made shirt, the expensive tie or the Coach loafers. The car is certainly not the economy model. The smile and your eyes said you were probably a good guy. Tell me, is there a Mrs. Jack Martin or are there any little Martins out there somewhere?"

"Regrettably, no, Kayla. I just haven't had time; work and making money have become my life. I was married for less than two years back when I was in the Army; it was a big mistake, she didn't want kids, I did; we really didn't know each other and it was over quickly."

Kayla and I had become friends. I decided to kick my own candor and openness up a notch.

"Look, Kayla, I don't even have a serious relationship. My sex life is one long string of pretty meaningless one night stands on the road. Bluntly cute young women at the motel registration desk---like you---are always my first choice. I turned on the charm the minute you let me in the door with every intention of fucking you. We hit it off pretty quickly so I was positive I was going to get laid."

I paused to sip my wine. "Look, I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed our time together tonight. You are incredibly sharp; I'm married to this damned company and I firmly believe you'd be a hell of a great hire and asset. You're smart enough to realize that I put you through a preliminary interview---and you passed with flying colors. Bluntly, you're also adorable...my kind of girl...and as much as I'd dearly love to hop in bed with you I'd much rather be friends and if you end up working for us I'd love to be your mentor. You are just head and shoulders above most of the young folks I see in the recruiting process."