Please and Than You

I looked ahead at the woman rolling her overstuffed suitcase across the tarmac and wondered how she planned on getting it up the stairs to the terminal. I wasn't entirely sure how she had managed to get it through security, or the gate attendants, or to overcome the physics of making it fit into the overhead of the plane. But here she was, experiencing the joy of an airport with too many planes and too few gates.

"Help you with your bag?" I asked.

An eager "please" was her response as she rolled it toward me. I pushed in the roller handle and gave the side grip a jerk upward, I was relieved when it wasn't quite as heavy as it looked. I managed to get both of our bags up the stairs at once. Once in the terminal, she took back control of the bag.

"And how many weeks are you staying?" I smiled.

"Just a week. I know it's a lot for a trip someplace warm, but one never knows what they'll need," she retorted.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm confident that you'll have worn all two dozen pairs of shoes by the time you return," I said, taking an educated guess at her suitcase's contents.

"You know me too well mister." And with that we exchanged our goodbyes and good lucks each headed into separate customs lines.

After answering the typical foreign entry questions, I was on my way to the door of the terminal. It opened to the standard throng of eager taxi drivers. I had prearranged a ride with my hotel, and soon saw a man holding a sign with my name on it. I approached, he took my suitcase, and led me to a nearby, small, white van. Ducking into the door, I was greeted by Ms. Shoes herself. Her surprise was apparent.

"I'm glad I packed some running shoes. It seems that I may need them to get away from this strange man who keeps following me," she quipped.

"Well if it isn't an old friend!" I extended my hand, "My name is Adam."

"Jamie," she replied.

I took my place on the bench seat next to her. The drive to our hotel was about forty-five minutes. It was so refreshing to see tropical palms and hibiscus flowers along the road. The hot, early afternoon breeze blew through the open windows of the van. It certainly was a significant departure from the cold, long, winter I had left just hours before at the airport in Boston.

Along the way, Jamie and I had the usual chit chat. I learned that she was taking a vacation from her job as a hospital administrator in Buffalo. Her friends couldn't get away, so she decided to just go on her own. I also took this as an admission that she didn't have a significant other. Turns out that she had used the same travel review website as me, which partially explained the coincidence.

Soon enough we were pulling into the dense downtown of Playa del Carmen and into the hotel lobby drive up not long after that. The hotel is in the heart of the city, but still far enough from the pier that it has its own small beach. I wanted to get away from the isolation which can come with the resorts to be somewhere that felt a bit more, well, foreign.

We got out of the van and walked into the lobby while the bellman grabbed our bags. I let her check in first and I stood back waiting my turn. It gave me a better chance to look at her. I was guessing she was around forty, but with the build of someone who has either excellent genes or a love of the gym. Either way, she was far from unattractive. Her hair was loose and fell down to just beneath her shoulders. Her makeup and highlights made it clear that she was someone who cares about her appearance. The clothes she wore were fairly plain -- jeans and a t-shirt -- but not unexpected for someone who had just spent several hours on a plane. Her black leather boots now looked a bit odd in the tropical heat.

Quickly, she finished, turned around, and with a "hope you get a great room," she headed toward the elevator with the bellman. I stepped up to the desk, but before I could say hello to the desk clerk, Jamie had walked back to me.

"No obligation here, but I wanted to let you know that I plan on sitting on the beach all afternoon if you want to meet me. Just come down and find me. I'll try to save a chair if you're interested."

I quickly replied, "Sure! That would be great. And if I'm there before you, I'll do the same." I wasn't in Mexico for a hookup, I honestly just needed a break for a while, but that doesn't mean that I would turn down the company of beautiful and seemingly personable woman.

I checked in with the clerk, and was soon off to my own room. I was given a room in the building next door, but it was less than 50 feet to my elevator from the lobby. The room was nice, nothing spectacular. The outside door opened to your typical hotel room, but the far wall was a bank of windows facing down the length of the beach toward the pier. I collapsed backward on the bed and lay there for a moment relaxing. I easily could have fallen asleep, but realized that I had a sunny beach outside that would make a better napping spot. Not to mention, I had an invitation from Jamie. I unpacked my things, and changed into my trunks, t-shirt, and sandals. For 41, I consider myself lucky. So far, I've managed to avoid the twin evils of balding and fat, though the latter comes with some effort. I looked at my reflection in the hotel mirror before heading downstairs thinking that what I saw was far from perfect, but nothing to worry about either.

I looked around the beach -- it wasn't big -- but didn't see anyone who looked like Jamie. I was surprised at how empty it was, but it was a bit off of the peak season. I grabbed a couple of chairs, threw out a towel and then walked over to the bar to grab my inaugural cerveza of the trip.

It was quite a while later when I heard a familiar voice from behind me as I lay in my chair. "Looks like someone has a head start on me at doing nothing."

Jamie walked around to the chair next to me, set down her cotton bag, spread out her own towel, and removed the sarong from her waste. She asked me whether they had servers or whether we needed to hunt down the bar. I told her that I was ready for another and offered to go grab one for her.

"Stay there, you seem to be quite busy. What do you want?," she asked.

"Tecate Light," I responded.

She stood up and walked over to the bar. Doing my best to conceal my stare, I watched as she walked away. She wore a simple black halter bikini that made her look fabulous. I now realized that I'd underestimated her as I sized her up at the lobby counter. Her ass had the slightest jiggle as she took each step, and the small but loose fabric made it easy to imagine what her rear would look like naked. Her hips curved inward to the most delectable waist, before carving outward again to her tan shoulders. Everything about her was toned. She was like the sweetest fruit, just asking to be savored. As she turned back toward me, I looked away, but glanced once more as she set my beer down beside me, this time at her chest. Her toned stomach led upward to her rather small chest. But anything larger would have ruined her very natural beauty. It was far to easy to imagine her completely without clothes. It was as if her body were challenging me to try to stop.

As she sat next to me spritzing herself with lotion, I could smell perfume over the coconut of the spray. "Was it from before she left on her flight this morning?," I asked myself, "Or did she actually put some on before coming to sit on the beach?" Having dowsed herself in glistening lotion, she pulled out a large stack of magazines and began reading. She saw me look at what she drew from her bag.

"I'm a bit behind on my reading," she laughed.

As I lay there that afternoon, I lay there trying to find reasons to look in her direction while at the same mentally telling myself not to look. But I also caught her watching me as I grabbed another pair of drinks. Small talk gave me a good excuse to look her way as I relied upon my sunglasses to shield my gaze.

Over the next couple of hours, the sun rotated around until the shadow of our hotel began to fall upon us. She was the one to notice. "Looks like no more sun for us today."

"Carpe noche," I muttered without thinking.

"What does that mean?," she asked, not noticing the obvious flaw in my grammar.

"Well, I meant it to mean 'seize the night,' but my translation wasn't exactly the best," I replied.

She laughed as she began to put her things into her bag to leave, "Works for me. Have big plans for the evening?"

"I have reservations at a restaurant that a friend recommended. No plans other than that. You're welcome to come if you're interested," I said.

"Would love to, but I don't want you to feel compelled to invite me," she responded.

Feeling a bit flirty, I replied, "I feel compelled, but not because I'm being nice."

She briefly paused, then finished what she was doing, before rotating in her chair to look at me. "Well, I feel 'compelled' too, so what time would you like me to be ready?"

"Reservations are at 7:30, and it's about a 15 minute walk, so wanna say a quarter after? Meet me in the lobby? Or should I stop by your room?"

She stood, looped her bag over her shoulder, and replied, "7:15. Room 518B. See you then!"

Intentionally or not, she walked away without the cover-up from earlier that afternoon. I was once again unable to look away. And unable to stop the flurry of impure thoughts that ran through my head.

---

I was excitedly nervous as I walked to her room. I knocked on the door, and after a brief moment, she stepped out. She looked fabulous in her white tank top and simple wrap skirt. After watching her nearly nude body for much of the day, somehow seeing her dressed, concealing more, made me want her more. Her teal, silk skirt draped to below her knees. As she walked, the fabric covering her ass slowly tightened and then relaxed with each step. Her mere act of walking was alluring. The short heels she wore accentuated her legs and butt all the more. Nothing was hidden by the sheen of the fabric, and I wondered what I would find if I were to run my hand up her delicious thighs. Her tanned skin contrasted with the black tank top which tautly held her breasts, making even her small figure show a hint of cleavage. The evening was still warm and humid, and sweat glistened at the top of her chest, calling my attention upward. Oh how I wanted to push back her hair and lightly kiss her delicate neck, to taste the salt of her skin.

We walked leisurely down the street her hands holding my folded arm. Her perfume wafting to my nose. I felt like a nervous high school kid going on my first date. The combination of the excitement caused by her beauty and the fear of my desire becoming all to apparent. Not much was said, I think we were each engrossed in our own pleasant thoughts. When I left home, I could never have imagined that I'd meet such a perfect woman.

We walked the five or six blocks to the restaurant. It was dark outside as we walked down the street, but most of the tourists were at home, still showering and getting ready for their evening activities. When we got to the restaurant, we discovered that it was open air, but perched a bit above the rest of the beach, so it took advantage of the evening breeze. It also provided a gorgeous view of the nightlife below. Our table was next to the window, but only one direction faced the skyline, so I subtly directed her toward the seat with the view. After all, with her across from me, I was sure that my view was better. The restaurant was nearly dark, with just oil candles on each table and a few colored lights for illumination. The food was what could best be described as Asian fusion, but the trance music softly playing on the speakers helped establish the rather eclectic nature of the place.

"A bit odd to have an Asian restaurant in Mexico don't you think?," she said. I told her that I'd seen a Mexican restaurant during my trip the previous year to Thailand, so perhaps it was all just a trading of gestures. We ordered drinks and conversation, slowly wandered from the general, from our past trips to our favorite foods, to the specific, remodeling plans for her home and her cat's undesired weekend wake up calls as she tries to sleep in. It was comfortable, but we were each still a bit nervous in the others' company. She was regularly tucking her hair behind her ear and I was a bit too fidgety with my cocktail. Make that cocktails. As dinner went on, we had each had refreshed our drinks a couple of times. After dinner, we went to the restaurant bar where we had a few more. By the end of the night, we were pleasantly happy, though not drunk. The bar gave us the chance to sit closer and exchange casual touches.

The music grew louder and within a couple of hours, the restaurant had transformed itself into more of a large bar than a restaurant. The crowd grew a bit more casual and younger as well. It grew more and more crowded and the bumps from passers by more and more frequent. I took it as reason to ask if she wanted to head somewhere a bit quieter. She happily agreed.

We walked about a half block up the street to a martini bar and sat down. She evaluated the menu, then gave it to me to peruse, and as the waiter approached us for our order, grinned and ordered a key lime pie martini. I admit, I tried a bit and it was incredible, though my machismo didn't let me drink much. By that point in the night, we were very relaxed with each other, and after just one drink, it had the feeling that she was ready to head back to the hotel.

"Had enough?," I asked.

"Let's get out of here," she replied. With that, I grabbed her hand and we writhed our way toward the door.

As we walked the two blocks to her room, the staccato of her heels helped remind me that this was real. The daze of anticipation and alcohol left my mind in a surreal state. She seemed equally delirious, as we each made feeble attempts at small talk while knowing what was to come. I watched the her key enter the lock of the door with such intensity that the milliseconds it took felt like minutes. Any formalities of asking me if I want to come in were dispensed with -- she simply opened the door, took my hand, and nearly yanked me through the doorway. No lights were on, but the glow through the open windows at the back of her room lit the scene. The room still smelled of shampoo and perfume from when she had readied herself a few hours before. She took two steps to the bureau and pressed a button in the darkness. Apparently, she had memorized the hotel's radio because the click was followed by the sounds of Latin jazz.

I took my own steps toward her and with hands on her waist, pulled her toward me from behind. My face was soon tickled by her hair. She instinctively moved her head to the side so that I could nuzzle the bottom of her neck. She reached behind her to my hips and pulled me even closer. I softly kissed her neck and to her shoulder as she exhaled with a moan. I was almost instantly hard and I know that she could feel it. As I thought of my hardness, I wondered if it was matched by her own wetness.

She now turned around and looked up at me, doing our best to look eye to eye in the dim light. But we knew what the other was saying, even without words or sight. This time she reached toward me to kiss. Our mouths coming together softly at first, then with more and more ferocity. Our tongues emulating our bodies on the dance floor earlier that evening. We each grabbed each other harder and harder, as if trying meld two bodies into one.

My hands had slowly slid beneath the bottom of her tank top so that they could feel her warm skin. I slowly slid my fingers into the tighter constraints of her skirt, wondering what I might find. As if teasingly, the fabric was too unforgiving and it made me wait to find out. I moved my hands higher, up her back and to the bare warm skin of her shoulders. I ran my palms across the soft straps and slid lower again to her sides. This time, my thumbs guided my way as a ran my hands upward. Her firm stomach provided a clear difference from the softness of her breasts. I ran the tips of my fingers along the rim of her tank, one hand on each of her firm mounds. I pressed upward, feeling the subtle hardness of her nipples. I moved my fingers to rub them.

Her breathing clearly reflected her enjoyment and with a gentle squeeze of the points of each of her breasts, she began her own journey. One hand grabbed my neck, pulling me harder into a kiss. Her other hand grabbed my ass, pressing my hardness against her. After releasing the pressure of her groin against mine, the hand on my butt slowly moved toward the front of my trousers, so that her palm pressed slowly down on the length of my cock. Her other hand moved down my back so that she could use her other hand to rub my member. The teasing was nearly unbearable. I briefly worried that I might cum before we even had our clothes off. I was now in a state of nearly uncontrollable lust. I had to have her.

With an eye to the bed, I grabbed her hand and twisted her around so that she now faced the bed. Her instant of confusion was processed as we fell toward the bed with me carefully falling on top of her, our legs dangling over the edge of the bed. I briefly rubbed against her ass as I positioned my hands on the bed. I pulled myself upward and lay on my side before helping her move upward beside me. Side by side on the bed, we began kissing again, our hands each wandering up and down the terrain of the others' body. I slowly moved my hand lower and lower on her leg. The bottom of her dress now lay just above her knee, giving me an opportunity to feel the bottom of her firm thigh. The heat of her skin was incredible. As we kissed, my hand slowly rubbed higher and higher, the pace of her breathing accelerating with it. I intentionally held of on touching her most precious spot trying to build up the kind of tension that she had already created in me.

God her skin was flawless! The wrap of the skirt slowly split away as I reached the hard bump of her hipbone. And there I found the answer to the question I had been asking myself all evening -- she had been wearing underwear that night. The straps on the side were so thin that I'm not sure how they did not snap as she walked. It seemed that they must be for decoration as much as function. I moved my hands around her backside and felt the strings come together at the top of her ass before disappearing down her cleavage. My mind was filled with thoughts of what she must look like in the light and wondering what the front side felt like, knowing that I was about to find out. I slowly retraced my path back to the sides of her hips and she rolled to lay on her back. She was clearly as wanton as me in this moment. Then she slowly slid her feet up until her knees were slightly bent, and with a light tug, she unloosed the tie of her skirt. She was anticipating my touch as much as I desired to touch her.

Now using the tips of my fingers, I softly floated long the front of her panties. Lightly tracing the front as if I were a butterfly skimming a pond. I could tell that she was shaven. Then I touched harder and lower. She was completely soaked. The silk did little to absorb her wetness and and the heat from her pussy was radiating from her panties. Just as the fabric was unable to contain her desire, my mind was nearly unable to control my need to have more of her -- all of her. I felt as if there was nothing I could do to stop from spending the night simply pillaging her. And it seemed that she wanted to be used just the same.

I pulled the fabric of her underwear to the side and began to explore her wet recesses with my fingers. The soft peak of her clit, the damp valleys on each side, and then downward toward her hot core. I slipped inward with no resistance. She was so hot that it felt as if my fingers would be burned -- as if the only thing preventing fire was her own wetness.