A Crescent City Liaison

Authors note:

I have never published a story from personal experience but have rather focused on the many fantasies that traverse my thoughts.

I'll make an exception here by sharing a memorable experience from some time ago. This is offered as a tribute of sorts with permission from the other party.

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Chemistry... It matters.

Thankfully, in the dynamics of human interactions, we can't prescribe it or manufacture it which makes it so enjoyable when great chemistry occurs between people.

If you're fortunate, you've had experiences that remain part of you long afterward, experiences that are truly memorable. I'd add that what makes something memorable is not what you did, but how you felt while you were doing it. So in that spirit, chemistry matters.

This narrative is my humble account of one memorable encounter I was lucky enough to have.

My profession over many decades has entailed frequent travel throughout the USA, including regular jaunts to the vibrant and sexy city of New Orleans. Perhaps from its open and expressive culture, the remnant buzz of celebration on seemingly every block, or the long-lingering influence of the French; I always look forward to my travel to the Crescent City with a lustful tingle in my psyche.

So I suppose not unexpectedly, In the days preceding a trip, I connected online with an interesting and appealing woman with whom I shared a mutual interest. Our correspondence in advance was brief, I might say limited, although sufficient enough to lift my spirits along with my anticipation of a potential meeting. We agreed that during my stay we would meet one evening at a bar of my choosing.

Her name was Paige.

When the day finally arrived, I can't deny that I watched impatiently as endless minutes ticked off on my watch, inching myself toward the conclusion of the workday. I had scouted our meeting location, seeking a balance of atmosphere, privacy and proximity. My chosen venue was a small and stylish bar, situated off the lobby of one of the many historic hotels in the business district of New Orleans.

Ever anxious, my work at last reaching a conclusion, I arrived early at our agreed venue, and secured a seat on a corner couch. Cocktails would be expected, therefore I texted Paige a photo of the drink menu, then ordered a unique concoction to be waiting for her. I ordered an old fashioned.

She was running late, which was fortuitous, as it offered me a moment to breath, to relax and carve a distinct line between the toils of the day and the enjoyment of social time with good company.

Paige eventually arrived and as she entered, effortlessly captivated the collection of other bar patrons.

Paige is tall, in her early 40's and attractive. She was wearing a long, champagne colored silk jacket. Unbuttoned, it flowed along her sides as she strode through the space, revealing just enough of the low cut, form fitting dress underneath. She wore a stylish felt hat atop shoulder length, indigo blue hair.

It was a jaw dropping entrance.

I was mentally prepared for the vibrant hair, as we had discussed this recent addition for her, but not for the arrival of such a complete and stunning package.

So there I was, adorned in standard issue dress slacks, pressed dress shirt and a dark blazer, a bland understatement compared to the runway walk that approached me. Anyone watching, which was everyone at that point, knew that the business guy was there to meet up with his stunning and desirable liaison. Unfazed by the attention, I ignored our audience, stood and kissed her on the cheek before she sat next to me, her knees resting against mine.

Our conversation was energetic from the start. Over the course of an hour, chatting and flirting, we found a shared interest in many things creative.

I'm a somewhat accomplished painter, when I'm not performing m Monday through Friday corporate dance, while she is proficient at costume design. She showed me photos of what I'd describe as Victorian-esque work, but with erotic sensual touches. I've never been into costumes in the context of erotic encounters... but have thought in hindsight, that maybe I should consider something? She creates from scratch, sourcing material from countless unexpected places.

I learned that Paige writes poetry, which I'll elaborate on later. I shared with her my penchant for writing erotic short stories. To say that I was attracted to Paige doesn't adequately describe my state at that point. I find many women attractive; everyday, everywhere. So attracted would be too pedestrian a word. I was captivated... in her appearance, in her words, and the ecosystem that seemed to makeup her world.

Once our drinks were consumed, I closed our tab and stood, signaling to her my intent; that there was more for us to experience. We slowly strolled the few blocks to my hotel, Paige holding my arm as we walked. Sidewalks in that part of New Orleans can be narrow, therefore two people walking side by side often consume the walk-able space. Like before, Paige captured the attention of everyone we passed, men and women alike, as they stepped off the curb, or into an alcove allowing us to pass.

We passed through the lobby, and up the elevator with another, younger couple, perhaps on a celebratory jaunt. Oddly self conscious in the moment, I vacillated between playing it cool and ensuring they could tell that I was with her. I'm sure they knew.

We continued to walk side by side down the corridor, silent. There was no awkward moment nor nervous tension. Without saying, it was apparent that we had both been here before; as two-clear minded adults, appreciative of the satisfaction that intimacy can bring when chemistry is good, and, speaking only for myself, excited to what adventures awaited behind closed doors.

I'd received an excellent room upgrade from the hotel and was afforded a large balcony, really more like a terrace, overlooking the busy downtown street. We proceeded outside then stood at the edge of the balcony, my hand resting on Paige's. After a few innocuous observations of the setting, I turned to face her.

Without saying anything, I nodded my head slowly toward the sliding door. Also silent, she understood that our time had arrived, then turned and entered the room as I followed.

There are few moments for me as thrilling as the point in time when you know that you and your partner are prepared to take the leap to physically submit to one another. Said differently, anticipation is everything.

The terrace door closed and curtains drawn, I excused myself to use the restroom. Paige did the same after me as I relaxed on the couch, a blend of mature calm and schoolboy excitement making me squirm more than I preferred, although it was a welcome sensation.

I overheard the expected sounds behind the door, shoes scuffling on the floor, the toilet flushing, water in the sink. Then, as the bathroom door opened, I watched, mesmerized, as Paige emerged naked, save for her gold high heels.

A waterfall of extensive and tasteful body art extended from the top of one shoulder to her wrist. I can't recall the subject, but could only note the vibrance; red, yellow, green, blue... all untarnished by time, as if freshly drawn. A coordinating composition stretched from her hip on the same side, down the front and side of Paige's thigh.

I was raised in a conservative household. So despite contemporary acceptance of body art in everyday life, there's still an ever present aura of taboo in this for me.

In this moment, her tattoos were the pièce de résistance of my goddess this night.

Paige stood smiling for me, providing me ample opportunity to take it all in. Her curves spoke of a mature woman, but one for whom time had not diminished her appeal. She showed no evidence of sun exposure.

Shaved bare, the elongated Y formed by the line of her thighs and outline of her groin struck me more like a Greek letter Ψ, as the distinct cleft of her vulva completed the erotic image before me. Her breasts were natural, ample, with prominent nipples protruding due to the coolness of the room.

She was perfect.

Moreover, my earlier captivation by her persona was now magnified by my arousal.

Keeping eye contact, Paige walked to me and promptly knelt between my legs. She caressed the already present bulge in my pants, smiled, and asked, "Have you ever met a human vibrator?"

To which I inquisitively answered, "no?"

"Give me your finger," she instructed and placed it in her mouth. I then felt a steady vibrating sensation as she purred with her lips enclosed around my digit. I knew where this was headed and couldn't help myself but laugh out loud like a teenager.

We leaned in to one another and kissed... slowly... purposefully. Our mouths open, our tongues danced and tasted. She bit and pulled at my lower lip with her teeth. My hands slid behind her head and pulled her mouth hard onto mine.

Paige withdrew and went for my clothes. Combining our efforts, I was disrobed an instant, still seated on the couch with her kneeling before me. She looked me in the eyes before her mouth consumed my manhood.

The vibration, or whatever I might have called it, was as unique and erotic as advertised. I'm not huge, but she worked unsuccessfully to take all of me in. While I can't explain it, there is a primal thrill when one's cock reaches the back of a woman's throat. As a gentleman, it seems harsh; yet as a lover, I can't get enough.

I was lost in the moment, until Paige lifted my legs up in the air, my thighs pressed against my chest, bringing my butt into her view. She went lower, licking and teasing my ass. It is an amazing sensation, one that I've rarely had the opportunity to enjoy in my life. But for me, as something I'd not requested, it was a sign of her desire to please me, and perhaps also evidence that the chemistry I was sensing was indeed mutual.

I stopped her, and brought her mouth back to mine, as we kissed for an extended time.

I suggested that we switch places and allow me to pleasure her orally. She answered "meh.." and I was a bit caught off guard. It seemed this was not a desired activity for my lover. She indicated that she would go along if I really wanted to, but as she was saying this, I knew my view should also be no. If my partner doesn't want me to go down on her, I'm not a man who would insist just for my own entertainment. Intimacy must be a two way street, so I accepted that my mouth and her pussy would not meet.

The exchange created an unexpected pause in the mood. As situationally aware people, we instinctively talked for a while about the physical relationships between men and women, as well as women and women. Paige is bi, and while she didn't say so, may perhaps prefer women over men, at least for sex, or so I suspect. Regardless, she is a woman dedicated to mastering the art of intimacy (my words not hers.) The point is that I was learning, step by step, that Paige is a powerhouse of sexuality.

We transitioned to the bed, where more oral sex ensued, still one way per our earlier agreement. I'm as much a giver as a receiver so I orchestrated a position where my hands could explore her body more fully. A few moments of this mutual pleasuring passed before she stopped, assumed a position on her back, her long legs bent and apart, indicating, without saying, what was expected of me. And so our final crescendo began.

I adore missionary position, as being the most intimate; everybody has a mouth to kiss and a body to hold onto. I don't dislike the countless other sex positions, but don't necessarily need them. In that way, we did what lovers do... fucked... kissed... touched... and expressed our satisfaction in all the ways our instincts instructed us. Our movements were slow, measured, but also at times harder, furious.

Paige pointed to the region between her shoulder and neck, saying, "Bite me.... Here..." I did as instructed... "Harder" she directed. I'm not a biter, so I was uncertain how hard was actually hard enough; or how large a bite was the right size. I did as best I could without experience or more detailed guidance in the moment.

"I need to turn over," was Paige's next directive. I withdrew from her, and she turned onto her stomach, head down and her ass raised up toward me. I traced my fingers down her spine as I admired the outer lines of her torso, how they met the sharp outward curves of her hips.

Were it not for my manhood calling to me, I could have stared endlessly at the figure before me. Answering desire's call, I reentered her. Her moans became growls, as my loins pounded harder and faster against her. I alternated between gripping her hips while pulling her against me as I thrust and then folding my body over hers, my long arms resting on the bed aside her shoulders.

It was in this coupling that we both reached our climax.

For myself, physiologically, it was like any other orgasm; that familiar ball of pleasure that started small, deep inside me, then grew to a rush of dopamine, then the tingle of endorphins rippling through my loins, my torso, my limbs... Still, physically just like any other orgasm.

Yet at that moment, intertwined with the tremendous bounty of sexuality beneath me, it was different. It was memorable.

We lay side by side talking for a long time afterward, Paige on her stomach, as I rested on my side next to her. I caressed her back and butt, and massaged her scalp with my fingers.

Our conversation gravitated back to art again. I shared with her images of my paintings, and tried to explain the world of Literotica.com to her and my erotic stories published here.

Taking her turn, she read from her phone a poem she had written which I sensed was very fulfilling for her. It described her experience as the submissive to a determined dom partner and the ways in which her satisfaction intertwined with his intended physical discomfort. There were no elicit acts described, no mention of pain, no sexual language used, but it was an intense and profoundly erotic narrative. I then knew that Paige is capable of next level writing; really, way out of my league. I encouraged her to join lit and let the world benefit from her thoughts.

We talked about meeting again in the future. My business travel only sometimes permits adventures like the one we enjoyed, so I felt disappointment that I could not offer a plan or even a timeframe. We talked about having a threesome, inviting another woman in the future. I've had my share of partners in my life but never this. I was intrigued, although not confident this could actually transpire.

Later, as we said our goodbyes, we were kind and sincere in our appreciation of one other. A gentle and extended embrace spoke of the chemistry I'd felt and the assurance it was not fleeting, that an enduring, albeit brief spark of magic had occurred.

I will not speak for Paige's view of our encounter, it's not my place. I can only say that for me, it was memorable.