I remember the last thing that I said to her outside her hotel room door: "You know that if I walk through this door, there is no turning back, right? I will take you any way I want to, as hard as I want, for as long as I want." After a moment she responded with a breathy "Yes", and communication was then limited to my commands, her feral noises, and exquisitely non-verbal expression.
As I awaited her response, I drank her in with my eyes. She seems taller than I remembered. Her heels, black stockings, tight skirt, silk blouse were the trappings of a top talent recruiter, despite her relatively young age.
I instantly recalled our history, and how I wished we could have gotten together when we first met. I was 20, she was 17, and while the attraction was instant and electric, it was not to be. She was travelling cross country with her high school boyfriend and his parents and they were all in town for a few days as they visited relatives, who happened to be my neighbors with whom I was friendly. She was obviously conflicted from our first meeting, trying to hide from the boyfriend's glare every time she spoke with me, but nonetheless continuing to do so and invoking his wrath.
Later that afternoon he saw us speaking and stormed over with a look in his eye that told me I had better back off or risk a scene, or worse, if he lost control. I made myself scarce right then, but ran into her a couple more times during the next two days, until eventually she was gone after exchanging numbers and promising to keep in touch.
But she didn't, and to be fair I didn't either. It was unclear how we would or could or should become involved, and we lost touch. Until last week, five years after we originally met, when I got a message from her -- "Do you remember me?" Yes, I did, hell yes, every word we said, every second we spent together. She is going to be in town for a client meeting and would like to see me, she said, and to meet her at her hotel.
Hearing her breathy "Yes" outside the hotel room door brings me back to the moment, and she turns as I enter the room. The door shuts behind us as she stops in the hallway facing away from me, just barely looking back over her shoulder. I approach, unzip her skirt, and it drops to the floor exposing her lacy boy shorts and stockings.
I reach around with both hands, trace the buttons of her blouse lightly up and down, slip my fingers through the opening, and tear the blouse apart with not a little violence, exposing her matching lace demi-bra and drawing a pronounced squeak from her along with some very shallow breathing.
With one hand on her shoulder and one on her waist, I bend her over and run my fingers down her back as she descends. Kneeling so that her ass is positioned directly in front of my face, I use both my hands to trace her legs from ankle to thigh, drawing gasps when my fingers slide around her panties and find the slick folds of her pussy.