Author's note: This is a prequel to "Celia," depicting events that occurred several years before that story. The two stories can be read independently, but taken together, give a more complete picture of her character.
Celia met Alex at a conference for corporate communications professionals. It was a weeklong conference at a resort, with lots of free time in between the workshops. The attendees were randomly divided into smaller groups, usually of four or five persons, and assigned group projects to work on throughout the week.
Celia had married her college sweetheart shortly after graduation, sixteen years before. She and Mark had two kids, and she had reached that point when it was natural to question the trajectory of her life. They both had decent jobs (Mark was an engineer), and lived in the suburbs. She wasn't really unhappy, but sometimes felt that something was missing. Their sex life was not terrible, but somewhat unimaginative (because Mark was not especially imaginative), and she had the stronger libido of the two, so she was usually in a state of some frustration. She had not looked elsewhere for relief, so far, so she increasingly relied on masturbation to keep her needs in check.
In their conference workgroup, she found herself drawn to Alex, who seemed a little older than she, but still had an energy and excitement about him. Just the way he looked at things was intriguing, and he often came up with ideas that were (this was a big corporate cliche at the time), "out of the box." She found herself getting more into the goals of their conference project than she expected, because of his enthusiasm. And something about his voice was captivating—the rhythms, his word choices and phrasing, all of these thrilled her. It reminded her of when she had first gone away to college, and found the environment and the conversations so stimulating. It was a welcome respite from her daily chores and being a wife and mom.
The first day of the conference was devoted to registration, introductions, keynote presentations, forming the working groups, and similar activities. They met with their groups late in the afternoon and were encouraged to have dinner together. That's when she realized she was becoming fascinated with Alex, who seemed so interesting. He was married, but was now separated and in the final stages of a divorce, but he didn't seem to have been traumatized by the experience, perhaps in part because the breakup was amicable. And he had used the time apart to indulge some of his interests and hobbies. He had taken up the piano again, which he'd hated as a child, but that had now become a passion, especially piano jazz, and his enthusiasm for it could become infectious.
Celia went back to her room slightly buzzed from the wine they had drunk at dinner, but also from the stimulating conversation.
Most of the next day was spent in their workgroups, so by the end of the day, she had spent quite a lot of time with Alex, even if almost all of it was with the other members of her group, as well. At the end of the day, she went back to her room, thinking of the sound of his voice, and how it made her wet. She slipped under the covers, but wasn't at all sleepy; her whole body was vibrating. She slipped her hand under her panties and over her slick lips, then between them. She hadn't been this turned on in a long time, years maybe. She kept hearing Alex's voice in her head, as if her group was together working on their project, but instead of talking about the project, he was talking dirty to her. "Your nipples are so hard, I love sucking them... your pussy is so wet... you want to fuck me, don't you?"
Unable to pace herself, she brought herself to a quick climax, then admired the moisture on her fingers before licking it off. It has been awhile since she had tasted herself, and she imagined Alex tasting her, licking her cream from his fingers, or maybe hers, and the thought thrilled her. He would get off on her smell, her taste. She would be irresistible to him, and they would fuck and suck for hours.
She got up, rummaged in her suitcase, and brought out the green vibrator that she'd brought along just in case the loneliness was unbearable. No need for the lube, because she was soaked. She imagined Alex teasing her with his cock, expertly controlling it so that it would slide along her slit and just touch her clitoris, sliding further down each stroke, but ignoring her impatiently thrusting hips. He would only penetrate her when he was ready. She teased herself this way, as long as she could, and then ever so slowly, imagining his cock, she allowed the tip to penetrate her opening, holding still as he might, feeling her pussy just beginning to take him, and then with a gasp, she slowly slid it in all the way, and nearly came from the sensation. She could smell herself now; her scent filled the hotel room. He would love the smell of her cunt, she thought, as she slowly fucked herself with the vibe.
****
The next day they attended presentations in the morning, followed by time with her group after lunch, and then some free time before dinner. Celia went to the pool, and hoped to see Alex there, but he was evidently elsewhere. Her group met for dinner and then there were some scheduled recreational activities in the evening—bus tours of area sights—if anyone wanted to attend. She decided to skip those and was pleased when he said he would, as well. He asked her if she'd like to have a drink at the bar, and she accepted eagerly, trying not to show it.
He had Scotch, and she had a glass of Cabernet. Apparently he was a devotee of Scotch, as well as piano jazz, and again she found herself fascinated by his knowledge, his enthusiasm for the subject, his words, the sound of his voice. She admitted not knowing much about Scotch, but thought it was okay. He told her he had a bottle of a rare single malt that he'd brought with him, and wondered if she'd like to taste it, that he bet he could change her mind about it if she tried it, and she agreed.
In his room, he poured each of them a finger's width. He suggested just a bit of water to bring out the flavor, and mixed the drinks accordingly. They sat, sipping, he on the bed, and she on the desk chair. After awhile, he got up, went over to her, and kissed her. She felt her face flush, and her nipples harden. Still kissing, he led her to the bed, and they sat, making out. When he kissed her neck and began to unbutton her blouse and pul it off her shoulders, she never hesitated.
Part of her had probably realized, when she accepted the invitation to come to his room, that they might have sex, but she hadn't consciously thought about it. He kissed her breasts above the bra and deftly unfastened it. He leaned back to take in the sight of her bare breasts, admiring them. She felt his admiration, then a rush of heat between her legs when he bent to lightly kiss her nipples, then licked them, so gently she wanted to scream. There was no doubt in her mind now that she would let him fuck her, and she felt no guilt at all.
He continued to undress her and now she returned the favor, unbuttoning his shirt, unzipping his pants, letting her hand feel his erection over his clothes. She pulled his pants down and he slid out of them as they fell back on the bed, he in his boxers, she in panties getting damper by the second. She felt his hardness through his boxers, and he caressed her panty-clad pussy. She moaned. She knew he was going to fuck her.
But he surprised her, gently pushing her away. "Show me," he said. Okay, what? She thought he must want a strip tease with her remaining garment. "Show me what you like," he said, as if it would be all the clarification she would need. She looked at him quizzically.
He sat up. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself. I want to see what turns you on. What makes you come."
