There is no way to look cool drinking alone in a hotel bar at two in the afternoon. You inevitably look like a lonely businessman- a John Updike cliche.
I eyed the shot of tequila philosophically. "Well," I told the guy in the bar mirror," if she shows I'll be nicely relaxed- if she doesn't I'll be halfway to drunk and the rest of the way won't take long." With that exercise in self-delusion out of the way I slammed it back and tried not to make too much of a face as I chased it with a slug of cold beer.
I looked up into the mirror again and took another look at that guy. An okay looking fellow actually- not a stud to be sure- but certainly not the nerd he was in his younger days either. Nope, not bad looking at all- except for maybe the guilty look smeared across his face in day-glo.
I swished the beer around in my mouth and gave the guy a disgusted look. What are you feeling guilty about, schmuck? You haven't done anything- yet.
What if she actually shows up?
Academic. She won't. She'll get cold feet- or one of her kids will get sick- or she'll suddenly remember she's married too, and has no business driving to New Frickin' Jersey in the middle of the day to meet some guy she's talked dirty to on a computer screen.
I'd never really considered meeting her. Who knew they'd send me here for three days? Who knew I'd actually have the cajones to tell her I was coming- and why the hell did I do that anyway? Testing myself? Testing her?
I felt my cock harden as I remembered those sessions and had to shift none-too-subtly to dislodge the underwear which had crawled up to hide in the crack of my ass.
I relived that first tingle when her words appeared on the monitor- hearing her voice speak them - or at least how I imagine her voice would sound. I'd never spoken to her in real life (-and dear God let it really be a her and not some 45 year old named Bruno with a mouse in one hand and his dick in the other.)
She was a New Yorker- I knew that. Not the most romantic accent to be sure. I don't know why she'd stood out from the others out there in the great pick-up joint that was cyberspace, but there was something about this one. It was as if I could feel her excitement in her words- the little hesitation before she said (or typed- Christ what was the difference anyway?) the dread "c" word for the first time for me. I could feel her excitement- share in the feeling of doing something forbidden, knowing she would never say those things to her husband, maybe had never said them out loud to anyone.
If I were with her at that moment, would I feel the fire in her cheek? Would her eyes really be shiny with need, her voice cracking as she asked for what she wanted and couldn't get from the man she spent every day of her life with?
Was I really capable of drawing that kind of passion from anyone anymore- or are these the demented fantasies of a guy too married for too long? She's not going to show- you'll never know pal.
Then suddenly there she was. I mean, I didn't know it was her- I'd never laid eyes on her- but this woman standing in the doorway had no business in a Holiday Inn at this time of day. Nearing 40, just like she'd said, (if she was telling the truth about that, was the rest of it true?) blond hair cut short in what I always thought of as that Century-21-salesperson-of- the-month style. Her dress was too much for that time of day, but I knew she'd spent a long time picking it out. Probably wanted something pretty, but didn't want to look like a slut- hey she didn't know me from Adam either let's not forget that. God only knows how big the pile of dresses on her closet floor is that she went through then discarded before settling on this one.
Her eyes landed on me and I panicked. What do I do-kiss her or shake hands? Do I introduce myself- "Hi you don't know me but I jerk off to you when my wife is asleep" or maybe " Hi- are you the lady who's always wanted to take it in the ass- cause I'm waiting for someone..."
My body made the decision for me. In the bar mirror I saw myself stand up, then I heard a voice not unlike mine say " Hello, Johanna".
She looked relieved- great lady, so you don't know how to go about this either. I sort of hoped one of us did-and I led her to a table in the corner. The bartender nodded and brought my drink over, giving me a conspiratorial wink as he went to fetch her order.
I guess we talked .Our mouths moved and noise came out. I remember saying something and making her laugh. I liked that because she put her hand out and put it on my arm. My breath froze in my body. She'd made me come a dozen times or more and this was the first time we'd ever touched.
It must have had the same effect on her, because the conversation stopped. She looked over the top of her glass at me and asked, "What's going to happen now?"
"What do you want to have happen?"
The words sounded strangely familiar and it took a moment to recognize them. We had said (typed, whatever) these same words to each other one night when she jokingly suggested we get together in real life. I knew this scenario- knew where it led and wondered if she remembered too.
" I want you to take me upstairs"
Okay, she remembered. What came next? Jesus my mouth was dry.
Did I dare say it? My mouth struggled to form the words and my throat could barely push out the sound." Not yet. I want you to do something for me."
"What?" she asked quietly, her eyes locked on mine.
"G-go into the bathroom and take off your panties". The order came out and I instantly regretted it. What if it scared her off? Hell, what if she did it?
I could see the hesitation in her face. I almost let her off the hook when she took a deep breath then let out a nearly inaudible "yes".
In a heartbeat, she stood up. Trying to remember my manners I stood up too quickly and we were inches apart. My face moved in and I tasted her lips. They were dry and tasted of gin and I thought I had never tasted anything better. Then she was gone- a little unsteadily but in the right direction.
The mind can play tricks when you're waiting. I know it couldn't have been more than a minute or two. It felt like weeks before she emerged, clutching her purse to her chest and walking a little unsteadily. When was the last time she had been in public with no underwear? Had she ever done it?
"You came back". It was a statement, not nearly the surprised question it must have sounded like. She nodded, ever so slightly biting her lip. Was it excitement, shame, a little of both? I tried to maintain the control I showed her and didn't feel. "Well?"
