I stared at the fabulous, gyrating ass for forty-five minutes. Exactly forty-five minutes, to the second.
I watched it gyrate, rotate, and wiggle; I watched it go through every possible motion that a beautiful female posterior can execute, over and over and over again. My eyes never left it, for three quarters of an hour.
How can I be so sure of the exact duration of my staring session? Because I was riding an exercise bike in the hotel health club, and that was the duration I had set on the timer. And while I pedaled that damn bike, sweating and panting and trying to stave off the spreading waistline that comes with middle age, she was just across the room on a stair climber, climbing and bouncing and wiggling that beautiful ass for all the world to see. Especially me.
After my forty-five minutes on the bike were done, I got up, wiped my sweat off the equipment, and, now horny as hell, headed back to my room in the Dallas Marriott Solana, my favorite Dallas area hotel.
I had landed at DFW this morning, for an afternoon meeting with a client company, Cogswell Cogs, in Arlington. My company and Cogswell were engaged in a complex contract involving various technology transfer agreements, and it was all fouled up. Somebody had screwed the pooch, and I had drawn the short straw to come out here and try to sort thing out. My higher-ups had sent me here with no uncertain instructions: resolve this problem, to our advantage! And just to make sure I didn't fuck things up, they had also sent out one of our accountants from our Richmond office. She and I had landed at DFW about the same time, and shared a rental car to Cogswell's Arlington office. After our preliminary meeting this afternoon, we had come back here to our hotel, to prepare for tomorrow's all-day meetings, hopefully to wrap things up.
The accountant's name was Chloe. She was short and mousy, a bit on the plump side, with short dark hair and a round face. But she was kind of cute, in her way. She had big brown eyes, a sexy, pouty mouth, and the cutest little dimples. And she had this adorable southern belle voice which was very fetching, and made her seem younger than her true age, which must have been at least in her late twenties. Although we had never met before, we hit it off immediately, and made a good team at the meeting. I looked forward to working with her. She seemed like a sweet kid.
Our meeting had been with Cogswell's Chief Technology Officer and their head of accounting, plus other minor functionaries. I found that I had to do most of the talking; Chloe, although good with numbers and figures and printouts, had barely said a peep at the meeting. I gathered that she was rather shy, and not used to speaking in a group setting. But she seemed competent, given her short answers to specific questions that came up. I liked her, but I needed her to get a bit more aggressive.
More than that, even though she was on the short and plump side, I found myself constructing elaborate sexual fantasies about her during the meeting. In my fantasy, we rolled romantically and screwed tenderly on the grass in a field of clover while fluffy white clouds drifted overhead in a bright blue sky. Hey, so sue me, sometimes I'm a romantic!
Not that that made her special, of course; I tend to have sexual fantasies about all the women in meetings that I attend. I also had fantasies about Cogswell's Director of Operations, a middle-aged woman with gray hair and glasses, and about their corporate counsel, a brusque brunette in a power suit. Before the meeting had ended, I had screwed them all in my mind, each in the manner that suited them best. Not to mention the busty secretary who brought in coffee several times. I had fucked her, urgently, in the men's room during one of the presentations, up against a tile wall. Ah, the power of the imagination!
In the car after the meeting, on our way back to the hotel, I had told Chloe about my impressions of the meeting. "Chloe," I had said, "I'm going to need you to be more aggressive tomorrow when we press our position on this contract dispute. Can you do that?"
"Sure, Jack, I think I can," she had told me, in her adorable little accent.
"Are you sure? You were pretty quiet this afternoon. You are our accounting expert, and I know that you know your stuff, but I need you to show that you know what you are talking about to our friends over there. We need to project an air of confidence, or we are not going to win this negotiation."
"Oh, I think I can do it," she had said. "I know that I have a tendency to be on the quiet side. But that's just my professional nature. It comes with the territory, working with numbers and all. But I have an aggressive streak in my private life, trust me. I think I can bring it out in the negotiations, if you think it's appropriate."
"Yes, it is," I told her. "More than appropriate; it's essential. You should start bringing that side of your personality out now, if you can. We are going to need it."
"You got it, Jack," she said. "You can count on me. I'll step up. I want this project to succeed, too."
We had gotten to our hotel and checked in. She had a room on the twelfth floor. My room was on the twenty-eight floor, in the area reserved for frequent guests. We had said goodnight, and agreed to meet at 9 am in the lobby for tomorrow's meetings at the Cogswell plant.
Anyway, my workout on the exercise cycle now over, I rode the elevator back up to my room on the twenty-eighth floor of the Marriott, dripping with sweat, and with a semi-erect cock in my gym shorts from the sight of that beautiful, wiggling ass on the stair climber, which was still going strong in my mind. I dipped my key-card into the lock and swung the door open. One step in the door, and I stopped, jaw open, and stared.
