All participants in sexy sex are over 18 years old.
Road Stories is a series of stand-alone vignettes set in the same world as The Consultant and Neighbors tales. You don't need to have read the others to enjoy. Life on the road is grueling but it can be fun!
They were right out of one of those stories I read way too often while I'm out on the road. A good-looking black guy in a nice suit, open collar shirt, shaved head, late-30s, sitting at a deuce in an upscale hotel restaurant with a vivacious brunette a couple of years younger, in a red floral dress and leopard-print high-heeled pumps.
I mean, how cliche, right? I enjoyed my salmon and a hazy IPA while I tried not to get caught watching them. She kept leaning forward towards him while they talked, her legs crossed at the knee, with one of her heels almost touching the side of his leg.
He was attentive, clearly engaged, and I thought definitely enamored. By the time their cappuccinos arrived, they had their fingers interlaced on the table, clearly not trying to hide anything. They were beautiful together.
I wrote a dozen stories in my head while I enjoyed an after-dinner cognac. Were they really a couple? Was she his boss? Vice-versa? Or her husband's best friend? Hot wife fantasies circulated through my feverish brain.
He got up to go to the restroom and she looked down at her phone, before turning and looking straight into my eyes. I was definitely caught. But this wasn't my first time getting found out as a people watcher. I smiled and raised my glass to her, then turned away to give her a little privacy.
He returned and held out a hand to help her up. A real gentleman. They walked towards the lobby, and I settled up and went off to the restroom myself. After taking care of business, I decided that a nightcap at the bar might be a good way to relax before turning in.
As I took my first sip of beer, I heard a "hello" behind me as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the brunette, sliding up next to me at the nearly empty bar. She was not who I expected to see.
"Oh, hi! I'm sorry for intruding on you earlier. I was eating by myself and just let my mind wander. You two are a strikingly attractive couple."
She gave a very unladylike snort. "Not a couple. Not anymore. I was in town and was hoping to at least get a "for old times' sake" but Jacob's happily married now. And one thing I'll say about Jake -- he's loyal. Well, two things -- he's also a great fuck."
I chuckled at that. "Well, I'm sorry that you couldn't corrupt him." I put a hand out. "Scott."
She took my hand and looked me in the eye. "Hello, Scott. I'm Crystal. What brings you to Chicago?"
I ordered her a drink and we chatted about our work for a while. She even made accounting sound almost interesting. But she glanced at my wedding ring a couple of times, and I think I even heard a little sigh. She finally asked, "So what does your wife do?"
"My... Oh, I, uh... I've just never stopped wearing it."
"Oh, I'm sorry! Tough divorce?"
"No, no. Pancreatic cancer."
"Oh, Jesus! Oh, Scott, I'm so sorry!" Her dark hair framed her beautiful face, made even prettier by her concern for me.
"Well, I've got to find a way to move on, I guess. For my daughter if nothing else."
"You've got a kid? How old?"
I showed her pictures on my phone of Zoey running track and her prom pictures with her friends. Crystal talked about her little boy, staying with his father, a different ex.
It was nearing midnight, and the bartender was making his call for last rounds. Crystal looked at me as if she was taking my measure. "You know, I'm enjoying talking to you. We could take our drinks upstairs. If you want to."
I'm sure I looked a little nervous. "Sure, that sounds very nice." I got another beer for me and a glass of Zinfandel for Crystal, and we headed to the elevator.
"I'm on 11." I punched the button and willed the doors to close more quickly.
She waved her card in front of the lock and I opened the door, holding it open to let her in. She gave me a little smile, like she was surprised at such a simple act of chivalry. I followed her in and threw the security bar across the door.
When I turned, her hands were behind her back, reaching for the zipper of her dress.
"Can I help?"
She grinned back at me. "I thought I'd get a little more comfortable. Can you get the zipper started?" I set my beer on the coffee table next to her wine glass and gave her a hand.
She slowly zipped it the rest of the way down as she walked back to the bathroom. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right out."
I ditched my suit jacket, loosened my shirt, and slipped my dress loafers off. I wasn't sure just how comfortable she meant, so I thought I'd play it by ear.
It was much clearer when she returned from the bathroom. She was stunning. Her hair was down, her dress was gone, her bright red lipstick was seductively reapplied, and she was wearing nothing but her thigh high stockings and her leopard-print heels.
"Scott. You don't look nearly comfortable enough. Why don't you fix that?" She lay back on the bed, her legs slightly spread, lightly stroking her nails around her nipples. God, she was sexy!
I grinned and stood up and stepped out of my slacks and underwear and managed to lose my socks -- there is absolutely nothing sexy about a man wearing nothing but black dress socks. Watching her watch me had me already hard as a rock.
That didn't escape her notice. She rolled up onto her knees, her eyes never leaving my cock. "Well, Scott, why don't you let me take care of that beautiful erection? I assume you can get it up again later?" Fuck, I could get it up all night for this woman!
I just nodded. "Uh, that won't be a problem."