Raleigh

"You've gotta be shitting me!"

I had only taken a few short steps towards the elevator when I heard a familiar voice from the other end of the check in desk. It didn't sound like her MathMagic Experience was getting off to a smooth start.

The young receptionist now stepped aside to let her manager, an older woman with salt and pepper hair, speak. "I don't know what to tell you ma'am, we don't have any reservation under your name. And with the conference, we're currently fully booked. There may be some availability at our sister hotel? It's about a mile and a half up Bent Creek Road."

"I get that, but the conference is happening, here. I'd have to drive over every morning, and let me guess, pay for parking?"

The manager lifted her eyebrows and showed the increasingly frustrated blonde her palms, indicating that she was unable to help.

Yvette was one of the newly hired teachers at another high school in Wake County. We had met once before, placed in the same "breakout group" during a district seminar on using manipulatives in the secondary classroom. We spent most of that session behaving like high schoolers ourselves, making as many phallic sculptures as we could with the linking blocks that were supposed to represent variables in an equation.

I wasn't even quite sure if she had connected those memories when I started to walk past, but she quickly put two and two together and stepped back from the counter towards me. As she talked, we stepped towards the little coffee nook in the corner of the lobby.

"James, isn't it? I could have swore the email said the district was arranging our hotel rooms. Did they arrange yours?"

I immediately regretted putting myself in the path of this situation.

"So, I think your AP was supposed to confirm with Katie at the district that you were planning on attending. There was a Forms link at the bottom of the email."

"Well goddamn it. So I drove all the way over here, just to have to pay to stay at some other hotel nearly two miles away? Brenda already approved my time as "professional leave" and I left sub plans. I'm not going back now."

"I mean, my room has two queen beds in it, if that isn't weird to you."

As soon the words left my mouth, I realized what I had said, and cringed. I quickly shot a glance at her left hand, hoping that I hadn't made an awkward situation even worse. Nothing except the fading ink stain of southpaw who writes on whiteboards with Expos all day.

Yvette raised a single eyebrow at me, but said nothing, giving me a chance to back down. Instead, I doubled down. I had already made it weird, the best I could do was commit.

"Fair, it sounds bad. But are you really going to pay for a crappier hotel, drive here every morning for the next three days, and pay $15 per day just to park in the conference center lot? Or we can share a room on the School Board's dime, and spend that money on important things. Like alcohol."

She chuckled, and for a moment I glimpsed the first hint of a smile cross her face before she settled back to mild annoyance at the situation.

"I swear to fucking God, if you make this weird, I'll... just don't make it weird, okay?" The last half of the sentence came with a sigh that showed this was turning into the "paid work-cation" from Hell.

I turned back towards the young woman, now alone at the reception desk.

"Sarah, can Ms. Alexander get another key. I just got an email from our district office saying that we'll be sharing our reservation." The overworked girl behind the counter, nineteen tops, just rolled her eyes and slid a key card across the counter, along with a piece of paper.

"Put your make, model and license plate number here, then sign and date."

---

As Yvette and I walked towards the elevator, the awkwardness hung in the air like a thick curtain. Our situation felt too casual for small talk, but we weren't all that close either. So instead, we walked in silence, punctuated by the click-clack of her heels on the tile floor.

"Ladies first?" It probably shouldn't have come out as a question if I wanted to look suave. But I was still feeling out the parameters of our situation and didn't want to land on the wrong side of that line. Yvette stepped in front of me, and my eyes wandered to her toned legs, the curve of her pencil skirt, and the way her neck looked with her curls pulled up into a messy bun. For a moment, I had a brief flash--her red fingernails gripping the rail at the back of the elevator, her skirt pulled up to her waist, my lips on the nape of her neck.

I forced myself to bury the thought and followed her into the elevator, pushing the button for the fourth floor as I turned to face the door.

"At least we should have a nice view, the girl at the desk mentioned my room looks out over the water." I hoped that talking would put the image of Yvette's body out of my mind.

"Fuck you. Our room," she corrected me, a smirk starting to spread across her face. "In all seriousness though, I appreciate you doing this. I was not thrilled about the idea of staying anywhere else. I spent an unhealthy amount of time fantasizing about the hot tub this place has."

Immediately, I began to do just the same, imagining what Yvette's body must have looked like in a bikini. Her build showed the evidence of the hours she had spent on hiking trails in college, petite without being delicate. The sound of the bell and the doors shuddering open shook me out of my mental wandering.

This time I stepped forward. "Room 431, should be to the left." I quickly double checked the sign hoping not to make a fool of myself. As we walked I prayed that the hotel hadn't screwed up and given me one king size bed. My brain lingered on the alternative, before realizing that would be a bit far fetched

Two colleagues might share a room. But sharing a bed changes up the equation drastically.

--

The room was spacious, and the girl at the desk hadn't lied. As I pulled back the curtains on the window, we were greeted by the view of a grassy slope that quickly melted into the red clay and rocks shoreline of the river below. In the spring warmth, the river carved a jagged path, sending arcs of white spray as small waves crashed into the granite rocks.

"Holy shit."

I was learning that Yvette and I shared that teacher's tendency towards swearing, as if she had to get it all out of her system on the off-hours.

"I know, right? I've only been up here a few times since I moved to Raleigh, but this is quite a bit nicer than the last few places I stayed."

Mercifully, the room had two queen beds, avoiding that particular headache. But even as stunning as the window view was, other parts of the room held their own. The hotel had recently undergone renovations, and the bathroom clearly received quite a bit of attention. The shower was floor-to-ceiling marble, with a rainfall feature poised directly in the center. I quickly swallowed down the instinct to comment on the roominess of it.

"Do you mind if I take the bed furthest from the door?" As she asked, Yvette was already unpacking her travel bag and unhooking her heels. "It's just a weird thing, I have. And I'm not planning on running screaming into the hallway. I hope not at least."

"Not a problem at all. Are you okay if I go break in that shower? I hate the feeling from sitting in the car all day."

Yvette grabbed a handful of clothes from her bag, and walked towards the bathroom.

"We'll see..."

I heard the show turn on, then off quickly, followed by a joyous giggle. "I'm just fucking with you, I'm changing to hit the gym before dinner."

I unpacked a few toiletries out of my bag, and set them on the sink outside the bathroom. When the door opened, the pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse was replaced by a comfortable looking sorority T-shirt and leggings. The green letters on the shirt were fading into the pink cotton, showing years of gym abuse. Gone were the heels, in their place white sneakers with perfectly symmetrical little bows. Involuntarily, I bit down on the inside of my lip.

"How long do I have before you're back?"

"Enjoy your solitude for the next 30 minutes or so. Then that shower is mine." She shouted the reply as she walked out the door, and the loud latch of the door punctuated her sentence.

--

In the shower, I let the steam envelope me. My mind wandered through the fog to the way Yvette's skirt hugged the curves of her ass, to the way her curls spiraled into the half up bun on top of her head, to the way her fingernails gripped the handrail in the elevator. My pulse raced as I imagined her laughter as she stripped down in this very same bathroom, imagined what she kept hidden under that T-shirt and leggings.

Instinctually, my hand began to move in long, strokes against my shaft. With each stroke, I imagined her mouth, the softness of her tongue. I saw the hunger in her eyes, as my hand moved with more intensity and my hips bucked back in powerful understanding. As the water ran down my face, I saw her kneeling before me, biting at her lip and nodding me toward relief.

Panted breaths forced their way out of my lips, and I found myself groaning with desperation. I wanted her, to feel her heels dig into my back as she pulled me into her, to feel her skin on mine. I wanted her hands in my hair, as I emptied myself into her.

I gripped the glass door, and felt my knees give way and buckle. The building tightness in my body released in a glorious cascade, as I watched six ropes of my cum spill out onto my hand, the wall and gradually make their way down the drain.

I was relieved, but not satisfied.

I wrapped myself in one of the thick hotel towels, and cracked the door to let the steam out. One shouted warning later, and I exited the bathroom to a still empty hotel room.

Grabbing the remote off the nightstand, I sat on the edge the bed and turned on the TV. Something with noise to drown out the hunger that I thought a shower would satiate. I flipped through sports highlights (Lebron and the Lakers underwhelm against the Nets) and world news (something about the UK's ambassador to Belgium and tax fraud) and food channels (another young chef has a radical idea to create a salad with the ingredients from the mystery basket). Slowly, the post orgasmic biology took over, and I faded into a well earned nap.

---

At 6:30, my quiet oblivion ended abruptly when Yvette kicked at my foot hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Hey, I want dinner and I hate eating alone. Put your dick away and come with me?"

Half-awake, I immediately patted to make sure I hadn't somehow lost the towel to a curious eye. Still, Yvette had showered and changed, so I must have slept for a while.

"Shit, sorry. Yeah hold on." I began to dig through my suitcase to grab a new pair of boxers and a clean pair of jeans. "Let me just go in the bathroom and change."

"I mean, if you want. I'm not going to look. And besides, if I wanted to see it, I would have already. You're a heavy sleeper."

She had a point. Still, I grabbed the clothes and went back into the bathroom to change. Only maybe slightly regretting it, I changed into the boxers and jeans, throwing on a henley and ballcap with it.

"Any particular request, roommate?" I called out, as I buckled and belted my jeans. "Do you like Indian? There's a great place just up the road, I saw it coming in."

"Ugh, that sounds fabulous. I need something spicy and curry sounds great."

She grabbed her keys off the dresser and I grabbed the hotel key card. I waved my hand to signal for her to lead the way, and she stopped in front of me. Her eyes pierced mine for a moment, and she paused. "This better not be an excuse just to stare at my ass."

It hadn't been, but now I couldn't stop myself. Her jeans, ripped across the front of her legs, perfectly held her ass in place, like sculpted perfection. As we walked down the hallway, I stole furtive glances at her.

"You just did it again. Damn, you are thirsty."

She had an uncanny ability to catch me off guard, the moment my thoughts wandered to imagining how good her jeans would look in a crumpled heap next to my shirt. Either that or I was losing any of the subtlety I thought I had.

Crossing the parking lot, I climbed in the passenger side to her car. An outdated Jeep Grand Cherokee, it showed all the signs of wear and tear you'd expect for a woman who drove from Michigan to Georgia for four years, to D.C. for two and now back into North Carolina. But it also showed her spirit, resilient and formidable, and willing to grind to get the job done.

"On second thought, let's call an Uber. After the day you've had, you deserve a little time to cut loose."

----

Over dinner, we talked and shared a few stories of different classroom escapades, troublesome students and parent nightmares. By the second glass of wine, we were sharing stories of exes who let us down or broke our hearts. By the third, we were open books.

"I'm going to be honest, if I didn't masturbate in the morning before work, I'd have probably quit my job by now. The little boost of serotonin I get from playing with my clit is just enough to get me out of bed and into the car, and by that point, it's just inertia for the rest of the day."

I squirmed a little bit in my seat.

"Oh my god, I can't believe I said that!" She clasped her hands over her mouth, her cool demeanor now shaken back a little.

"No, dude, I get it. I have to clear my head the moment I get home from work, and usually that involves the same thing."

"You're so lucky you don't have roommates! I'm living with this other girl I met through my internship, and she's so nice, but she never leaves the apartment. That's honestly a huge reason I told Brenda I needed to go to this conference. I wanted a hotel room that I could just let loose in. I even brought my vibrator!"

I stifled my initial instinct to explode into a million little pieces, but before I could respond, she cut me off. "Sorry, that was probably too much information. I'm making things weird now."

I was responding before my brain could even process the words. "No, I totally get it. I mean, obviously, if you really need I can just clear out of the room for a while."

"No, usually I go to sleep right after, so unless you're planning to book a room up the road for yourself, that probably won't do."

"I mean, I have headphones?"

"It seriously wouldn't bother you, and it wouldn't make things weird?"

She reachwey across the table now, grabbing my hand like I was tossing her a sexual life preserver.

"When we get back, I'm putting in my AirPods, watching a movie on my phone, and you're going to make yourself cum until you pass out."

This time, she squirmed in her seat.

---

The Uber driver was 10 minutes later than he estimated, and the warm spring air had turned chilly as we stood outside waiting. In just a tank top, goosebumps had begun to spread across Yvette's arms, from shoulder to elbow. I stood behind her while we waited, and instinctively began to rub her arms to warm her up.

She responded with a sigh and leaned back into me, her ass pressing into what a moment ago hadn't been hard, but was now suddenly back to attention. Wordlessly, she began to shimmy her hips, grinding into me. I leaned in and put my mouth against her ear.

"If you don't stop doing that, I'm not going to have it in me to let you have your solo time."

She pressed harder back into me, and moved slower and with more force.

The Uber arrived, and I expected her to pull away. Instead, she reached up and pulled my head down over her shoulder. "Who says I still need solo time?"

In the Uber, we sat like teenagers, her head laid on my shoulder as she intertwined her fingers with mine. I thought about kissing her, but had a feeling that Arlen, our Uber driver, might have enjoyed that a bit more than I wanted to indulge at the moment. So instead, I settled for rubbing my hand across her thigh, inching my way up and returning the tease she had subjected me to standing in the Carolina cold.

When we reached the hotel, we stumbled out of the Uber--perhaps a bit more intoxicated than we had realized--and shouted "You too!" in reply to Arlen's goodbye message of "Don't forget to drink some water!" Our fingers still intertwined, I moved my arm around Yvette's waist, pulling her into me.

"I want you so fucking bad," she whispered in my ear as we turned the corner towards the elevator. As the doors closed, I lost my composure.

With a spin, I had her hands pressed up against the wall of the elevator, our mouths pressed together in passionate embrace. It felt like the first kiss at summer camp, real but unreal simultaneously. She bit down on my lip, and I pulled back.

"I wanted to fuck you in this elevator, earlier."

"Which time? When you kept trying to find my panty line in that skirt? Or when you couldn't stop staring at my ass on the way to dinner?"

"Both."

"Good."

The doors opened before I could go any further, and if they hadn't I might have ripped them open myself.

---

Before the hotel room door had latched behind us, her shirt was over her head and thrown to the floor. Grabbing her at the waist with one arm, I reached behind her back with my other. Despite my best attempts, I failed at the patented one-hand unsnap and she choked back a laugh.

"Just take off your pants and leave the challenging problems to me."

I had barely undone my belt by the time she cast off her bra onto the growing pile of our laundry. In the dim light of the lone desk lamp we forgot to turn off when we left, she looked like a Goddess, carved from marble and ready to be worshipped.

With a shimmy of the hips, and a hop, her jeans found their destiny on the floor next to my shirt. She tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear and I placed my hands on hers.

"I get to take those off."

We stumbled backwards, our lips back together, our tongues dancing in each other's mouths. She fell back against the bed she had previously rejected, and propped herself up on her elbows to watch me.

I kissed from her ankle, up her calf, to the inside of her thigh, letting my hand work its way up the back of her other leg at the same pace. With two fingers, I pulled her underwear to the side and kissed at her slit.

"Oh, you're the fucking worst." She ran her long nails through my hair and down the back of my head. "Just fucking tear them off already." I hooked my fingers under the waistband where I had stopped hers, and she lifted her hips to oblige me.

Her pussy was shaved, except a small triangle of short blonde hair at the top of her tan skin. Her hand still on my head, I kissed at her thighs, and gradually slipped a finger into her. Her hips began to ride my hand slowly, using it like her own personal toy, as soft moans escaped her lips. Gently curling my finger inside her, I began to kiss her vulva, letting my tongue take long slow passes up to her clit. Her hand now gripped the hair on the back of my head, and Yvette began to grind her hips back into my face, in counterpoint to the motions of my hand and tongue.

Soon, her greedy pursuit accelerated and she began to pant, her toes stretching and pointing. Her hand clamped down even tighter against my head.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck don't stop, don't ever stop, fuck." The words poured out in rapid fire staccato, rising to the crescendo of a wordless moans that drew out until her heavy breath took its place and her grip suddenly went slack.

After a moment to catch her breath, Yvette pulled me up. "I have the implant, I haven't had sex all school year, and I just had my annual visit."

"Pretty much the same, but I'm just waiting on my implant to get invented."

"You're an idiot, just get up here."

She scooted herself back into the pillows, and I followed suit, climbing on top of her. With a level of poise I had no right to access, I guided myself into her as another deep moan escaped her. Her body seemed made for mine, and I slipped my right hand behind her neck, cradling her in my arm.