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?"
She tilted her purse towards me and opened it. On top was a pair of black lace panties. Just like she'd written. Just like I'd hoped.
I took her hand in mine and brought the fingers to my lips. I was simply going to give them a gallant kiss, but I caught a whiff of what could only be her essence and gently sniffed. Bells went off in my brain and I locked eyes with her. Silently they asked the question, and she flushed deeply and a smirk crossed her lips in answer.
It damn near killed me to lead her across the lobby and not touch her. Somehow although we both knew what was going to happen, we couldn't bring ourselves to let go in a hotel lobby in front of God, the bartender and everyone. We did have some measure of control after all. I guess that was a comfort.
The elevator doors started to close and we turned towards each other hungrily. My arms started to reach for her when a hand shot between the closing panels and a breathless salesman jumped in. Somehow I controlled both my disappointment and the desire to push his ass back out into the lobby and we took the three-month ride to the third floor.
I don't remember walking down the hall, or fumbling with the electronic key, or opening the door. I do remember hearing it slam shut behind us and a soft groan followed by lips and tongue hungrily probing .My hands caressed her sides, eliciting another moan. It sounded just as I'd imagined- full of passion, longing, shame- all the parts of a good catholic girl's soul.
She wasn't the hard-body of a magazine pin-up. She was fleshy, not fat and it felt real and so even sexier. Her quivering lips left mine for a moment, then desperately returned for more. At last, we took a deep breath and just looked into each other's flushed faces. Her lipstick was smeared, and a clump of mascara clung like a cyst to one eyelash. God she looked great.
"Are you sure," I asked. I'm not sure which one of us I was asking.
"Yes, I need this." This, she said, not me. I relaxed a little. She didn't love me, had no desire to take me away from my comfortable life, or even see me again. She wanted the experience: to know she could still make a man lose control, to want her so bad he lost control and a good chunk of his mind. To do all the slutty nasty things she would never dare do in her twice a month duty romps with her husband. To know she was even still capable of wanting to.
We both knew the scenario- had burned it into our memories, so when I gently pushed her down on the bed she fell into the exact position. Her arms were over her head, her large breasts heaving, legs slightly apart. I put a hand on each knee and sank to the floor.
Subtly she scooched to the end of the bed and moaned as I raised her skirt up. There it was, dark and hairy. I leaned in and breathed the aroma. All my plans went to hell as I plastered my lips against her swollen lips and got my first taste of another woman in too many years. It was clean and fragrant- not deodorized beyond smelling like a woman really smells and I reveled in it.
Her groan snapped me back to reality and to the job at hand. So many times I'd described what I would do to her in this same situation. Put up or shut up time pal.
My lips found their way to her left knee and kissed the soft skin behind it then moved up an inch or two. My teeth gently nipped at the soft flesh then soothed the area with a kiss. Then a little higher, another bite, another kiss. Up to the soft smoothness of her thighs, up to the crease where her faint panty line ran over a pale white hip. Closer towards that beckoning moist center then- down to the other knee for more.
"Oh Christ..."
"Is that a complaint?"
