The dream was still vivid in Jack's mind as he awoke without opening his eyes. He had no idea at what point during the night he'd had it nor who the woman was—whether she was a pure figment of his imagination, a composite of the many gorgeous creatures he'd seen at his boss's party, or if she was really real. For that matter, his groggy, foggy mind could not determine how much of the party actually took place versus that which his mind might have conjured up. Certainly the woman giving the blow job in the bathroom and the other couple fucking against the window were fantasy.
Either way, it didn't really matter. Jack now had a morning woody like none he could remember. Solid oak. He'd have to lay here a while until it subsided. If Sally saw him sporting a Louisville Slugger she'd start in on him about what a pervert he was to wake up like that. In the beginning, he had attempted to explain to her that it was normal, that most men greeted the day with an erection. But her continued refusal to believe that, even with mounds of evidence, brought him to a quick realization that it was another of her many ways of avoiding sex with him.
To hell with her; his dream was more fulfilling than sex with her had ever been.
Jack closed his eyes to see if his mind could evoke another such fantasy. In seconds he could feel Catherine's mouth sliding slowly up and down his eager shaft. God, this woman was good. She bathed his cock in her warm saliva, such that he could feel it rolling down his scrotum. Her hand occasionally replaced her mouth and he had never considered how great a lubricant spit was. Her hand felt almost as divine has her mouth.
Could I come just through a dream, he wondered.
When he felt her start to suck his balls, he thought sure he could. "Oh, God, that feels good," he said aloud.
His eyes shot open when he suddenly realized he had spoken out loud. If Sally heard that—
"You like?"
But that wasn't Sally's voice.
Looking down, he saw Catherine's beautiful smiling face hovering over his dick firmly gripped in her hand.
"Oh, my God! Catherine!"
"You were expecting someone else?"
"I thought I was dreaming." But in that instant, he knew it was all wonderfully real.
He pulled her up to him and kissed her passionately. He drank saliva from her over-saturated mouth. She kissed back with equal excitement.
As he rolled her over onto her back, he opened his eyes and glimpsed the interior of the hotel bedroom, which further substantiated the reality of the moment. Though it was his ultimate intention, yet not so soon, the movement caused his cock to slide right in to her pussy as though by design. However, now that it was warmly sheathed, he made no attempt to remove it. And if the way Catherine wrapped her legs around his was any clue, she wouldn't have allowed a pull-out.
Beginning with slow, gentle thrusts, Jack harshly realized that this would probably be the last time he would ever see Catherine. It made him sad, and as a result, he lifted himself onto his elbows and gazed into her eyes as he made tender love to her. He wanted to remember this moment forever. She stared back, and as abrupt or impulsive or even strange as it might seem, he had fallen in love with her and his life would never be the same.
She reached up to gently cup his face, her thumbs exploring his cheekbones; her fingers moving down to lightly massage his neck. He couldn't help but plant affectionate kisses on her face and ears, and when he bent to accomplish that, she wrapped her arms around his back, holding him tightly, until their mutual climax overcame them. It was not hard and rough, but rather soft and loving.
They remained locked in the embrace for several minutes, as though separating would end it all in a cataclysmic event, rather than merely a sexual disjoining.
"Must you really go to Paris?" Jack asked, nearly whispering.
"I'm afraid so."
"Could you not be persuaded to stay?"
"Regrettably, no." There was sadness in her voice, as well.
Shaking his head in defeat, Jack finally eased off of her, noting the eight a.m. time on the bedside clock. "Then, I guess it's off to work and on with my miserable life."
"There's no rush. I don't leave until this evening."
It's already eight. I'll be late."
"You're a vice president now," Catherine reminded. "Most of them don't keep regular hours, particularly the morning after one of Peter's parties."
"I have to meet with Human Resources and Peter's administrative assistants this morning," Jack advised with none of the enthusiasm he should have for his first day in the new position.
"They'll meet at your convenience," she noted, sounding authoritative.
He frowned. "You seem to know an awful lot about Peter and his company. Yet you claim not to work for him."
A pained expression marred her lovely features causing her to hang her head.
"I'm sorry," Jack offered, suddenly concerned. "Did I say something—" He halted in mid-sentence as a terribly frightening thought gripped him. "Oh, my God . . ."
"Peter is my husband." There was remorse in her tone, to be sure, but even though she uttered it softly, casually, it carried the effect of a slap in the face.
"I must have really been swept off of my feet not to see that one coming," Jack mouthed through clenched teeth, sounding angrier then he intended.
"I'm really sorry, Jack," Catherine offered. "I really am. I wanted to tell you last night before we left the club, but I was as swept up as you. You are unlike any man I have ever known and I didn't want to lose that."
"God, how am I going to face Peter?" he fretted.
"
I'm
not going to tell him." As if that needed to be mentioned.
"Well, I would certainly
hope
not. But when I see him,
I'll
know." He started to head for the bathroom, and then thought to ask, "How many other guys have you done this with?"
"None."
"Why me?"
"I told you. You're unlike any man I have ever known."
"But why? Knowing you'd be leaving for good?"
"Same reason."
"And all of this," he said, gesturing to the bed, "was real?"
"Yes. Please don't let us part on bad terms."
Jack really had no reason not to believe her. After all, she had told him she was married, just not to whom. The fact that it was his boss was unnerving, but from what he had heard of Peter and his womanizing, it was not hard to believe that his wife would want to leave him, particularly a woman such as Catherine. And as far as cheating on a spouse, well, he was just as guilty. To Catherine, he simply nodded. Glancing around, he said, "Where did I leave my clothes?"
"They should be in the valet door," she explained, heading toward the stairs. "I had them dry cleaned so you would like nice for your first day."
A half-hour later, showered and shaved (with articles Catherine had the hotel bring up—a service the establishment was quite accustomed to providing—the two came together for a tearful goodbye.
"I'll never forget you, Jack."
"Nor I you."
Of course, they kissed. But Jack broke it off before they were carried away. While showering, he'd thought about his parting words to her, but in the end, all that needed to be said was, "Goodbye."
* * *
Jack had always prided himself on being punctual. He was never late for work or meetings. Stepping out of the lobby of the hotel onto the street, already more than an hour tardy for the office, he would have normally been frantic about getting there as quickly as possible, which in this situation would have meant grabbing a taxi. But this morning, with all that had happened in the last twelve hours, he just didn't care, and so, he opted to walk the dozen or so blocks. Perhaps it would clear his head.
Unfortunately, instead, all it did was provide more time to relive the events of last night and this morning. The fact that Catherine was Peter's wife had faded in importance to Jack. It would have been different had she just been fooling around on him. But she was positively leaving him. He had seen the one-way ticket to Paris in her purse.
As he walked, he forced his mind to consider whether this sudden love for a woman that was not his wife was entirely due to the fact that she had given him the best sex of his life, or was that merely the icing on the cake. After two blocks, he felt convinced it was the latter.
Oddly, or perhaps not so much, he had not the slightest conscionable regret that he had been unfaithful to his wife. In fact, it forced him to address the fact that what they had was not a real marriage. They were really nothing more than glorified room mates and he questioned why he continued to live the absurd life that he and Sally had together. But the answer was obvious. Until last night, he believed those crude accountant jokes he had told to Catherine. To other people they were hilarious jokes; to him they had been a sad commentary on the evolution of his existence.
Until last night.
Now, he realized with some hope, he had more to give. At least one woman thought so; others would, as well, if they gave him a chance.
The office building came into view. Jack stopped for a moment to glance up at it: his business home for fifteen years. He'd worked his way up from an accounting clerk fresh out of college through the ranks of supervisor, manager, assistant vice president, and now he had achieved his ultimate goal: vice president. He had been thrilled to death yesterday when Peter made the announcement; as though everything he had worked his entire adult life for had finally come to fruition.
Now, it just didn't seem to matter.
Still, he accepted the congratulations and well-wishes from those he passed on his way up to his new office. Once in that new room, which was twice the size of his old office and sported his own conference table in one corner, Jack sat behind his desk for the first time, with its stunning view of the city's skyline. This should have been a bigger thrill than it was.
"Good morning, Jack. And welcome." It was his hand-me-down administrative assistant, Marla. She had worked for his predecessor and Jack hadn't had the heart to replace her, particularly since he had no one in mind to replace her with.
"Thanks, Marla."
"Did we have a nice evening?"
There was almost a knowing tone to her voice—or was he just being paranoid? "It was okay. I'm not a party animal."
"Very well. HR would like to see you at your convenience," she reminded. "Contract. Got to make it official."
