Michelle loved and hated these business trips. Sure, it was nice to get away from the sun baked blazing heat of Arizona, especially if those trips took her to somewhere cooler, but she didn't like to be away from home for long, either. She loved her own bed, her own things...even if hanging out with colleagues and having a few drinks after the endless meetings was enjoyable, too.
The bonus this time was that the weekend conference was situated at an older hotel downtown, not some sterile chain place with no soul or substance. Thank goodness for that! Lawyers usually didn't shy away from spending money if it was for something nice...
After her plane landed and the taxi dropped her off an hour before check in, she grabbed her bags and decided to see if anyone else arrived. She headed over to the cozy hotel bar. She didn't see anyone she recognized, and ordered a glass of wine. The bar was sparsely populated yet, as it was only a quarter past three yet. The bar had several tables scattered throughout and a big picture window that overlooked a quaint courtyard resplendent with blooming greenery. She smiled and sat down to sip her drink, sighing.
Suddenly she felt it. An almost electric sizzle in the air, as if charged and she sucked in a breath. The air around her felt heavy, but not unpleasantly so...at least not yet. Her nipples tightened, hardened, even if the interior of the bar wasn't overly chilly. She bit her lip. God, her nipples ached.
Her sex flooded with wet warmth. She stifled a moan lest the few patrons sitting at the bar or nearby tables hear her.
"Enjoying the view, Miss?" came a voice from somewhere behind her. She turned her head, glad for the momentary distraction from her almost overwhelming sudden arousal. Not that she didn't dislike it...maybe later tonight in her room she'd still feel this horny and lay down on the bed, spread her slender thighs and...
The older man tending bar smiled at her but she hasn't heard the second thing he'd mentioned.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked, her pretty face flushed. "Lovely view ans I'm a bit...tired from the long flight."
The bartender nodded. "I understand. I was saying you're sitting in our most famous table. It was his favorite spot to work when he stayed here. He used to tap away on his old typewriter, or write in his notebooks. His name was Christopher Collins, bestselling author that most no one ever heard of."
Michelle smiled, sipped her wine. "Oh, really? Would I know of any of his books?"
He shook his head. "Unless you like Gothic potboilers, I doubt it. He only published a couple books and a story collection before he died. In fact, he died right in this very hotel. I would remember because I was the bartender here back then. About 30 years ago..."
They'd chatted for a while longer-his name was Howard- and he was both pleasant and charming in an older Uncle or Grandfather kind of way, and she appreciated that he never once stared at her or made any lewd comments. As she paid the tab and prepared to head back to the lobby to check in, a few new arrivals settled in the bar and while she didn't recognize them, she knew the type. Young and energetic and cocky male lawyers. Dressed in designer jeans or khakis, slip on deck shoes and Polo style shirts. They appraised her with hungry stares, some overt and some not so. She ignored the pointed looks at her long legs and shapely ass.
Michelle sighed and left the bar. While they may be handsome and good looking, no doubt away from home and at a work conference among colleagues, she wasn't here to "hook up," whether they were single or not.
Besides, she preferred older men.
Before she left, Michelle asked Howard about the room that Christopher Collins always stayed in. She was understandably curious now and also wanted to look him up on Google on my phone once she was checked into my room.
Howard wiped off the bar top near with a spotless white hand towel. He nodded. "Same room as always, for years. 4th floor, corner room overlooking the courtyard. Room 407." He paused, looking at me with his granite gray eyes."They say his ghost still haunts the room but I don't know if I believe all that." He winked at me with a grin.
Grinning, she laughed and thanked him, and went to go get my room.
As she left the lobby for her room, the single suitcase and carryon bag being in her right hand and slung over her arm, she glanced at the key in her left hand. Room 407. The very same room that Collins had been known to stay in. Also, the same room he'd...
Strangely, Michelle wasn't repulsed by the thought as would probably many others, but he passed decades ago, before she'd been born! And it wasn't like the room contained remnants of his untimely passing either. It was a hotel room. Plenty of people away from home and perhaps not in the best health died suddenly in hotels. It happened sometimes.
Equally strange was the growing sense of excitement, which she couldn't explain fully but it was very much like what she'd experienced earlier downstairs in the bar...except stronger.
Much stronger, and by the time she reached the door marked 407, she was deliciously aroused. No, well yes, but horny like she hadn't felt in years...if ever.
Setting down her bags, she unlocked the door and pushed open the door. Grabbing her luggage, she entered into the cool, dimly lit hotel room. It was small but spacious enough for one, with a nicely appointed bathroom to the left and queen sized bed. Nightstand to the right of the bed and tasteful oak dresser across from the bed with a large flatscreen TV perched atop. A courtesy phone rested on the nightstand. As soon as she placed her bags next to the small closet space across from the bathroom, she kicked off her heels and sat down on the end of the bed. The sense of arousal that invaded her, filled her moments ago, didn't seem to be the same as out in the hall...
Suddenly her clit throbbed as if she'd teased it with wet fingertips. Her nipples ached, stiff like blunt bullet tips. She moaned and flopped back onto the comfortable bed. Her legs parted as her hands immediately wanted to slide inside her slacks, under her panties, to delve into her tender pink folds, already so hot and wet, aching...
And she almost did that. Why not just take off yours pants, silly girl? she told herself. And the panties too!
Not even questioning why this was happening at all, either here or downstairs in the lobby, because deep down inside she already knew. Part of her reminder herself about her Google phone research on the author who reportedly still haunted the hotel, but she had plenty of time for that...
...because I'm horny as fuck and can't get my clothes off fast enough! Michelle added as she fumbled with blouse buttons and bra clasp, kicked off her pants and underwear.
With her clothes in a rumpled pile on the carpet at the foot of the bed, she lay on the bed completely and utterly nude. And more turned on than she ever recalled being. Her pale smooth skin gleamed. Chest heaved, breath gusting from her lips as she reached up to cup her small perky breasts in both hands, pinching and tugging on her already erect nipples. She moaned aloud and removed her right hand to snake down her flat belly and over her shaved pubic mound. Her fingers plied her drenched sex, running the tips over her swollen labia, up and down, wetting them before she slipped inside. Her back arched, ass pressing into the bed, hips wriggling a little. She maneuvered her fingers, first one...then two into her tight hot slippery pussy. Pumping. Faster and harder, her thumb brushing over her engorged clit. Her juices poured out of her and she cried out in sheer ecstasy. The insides of her upper thighs glistened with her viscous lubrication, the sweet musk of it filling her nostrils.
Oh fuck yes, oh god...she'd never felt this aroused, this hot...wet, and she knew she'd soon cum, such an intensely strong orgasm that it would border on mind blowing...
...and she had closed her half lidded lusty brown eyes, hair in a brown tousled wave framing her heart shaped face, but now amidst the inflamed sensory overload wracking her body...she felt it. Him. Touching her softly yet intently.
Hands still very much involved in her self pleasuring, mouth an O and cries emanating from her throat, Michelle opened her eyes. And she saw him. Felt him. Feathery light but a touch nonetheless on both her feet and red painted toes (to match her fingernails, of course). Both her hands ceased stimulating her nipples and pussy, but she kept her slender toned legs spread wide.
At first she wasn't entirely sure what she was witnessing, heart thumping in her chest. The cool air around her suddenly felt heavy and thick, charged with electricity like it had been when she'd been in the bar, at the table by the window overlooking the cozy green courtyard. But it was even more so, much more electric and full of his masculine...presence. It nearly drove her mad with lust and desire.
And she noticed what she'd later think of as an outline of a figure crouched at the end of the bed, next to her feet. Wide eyed, she couldn't really see anything solid and definitive, but if she squinted her eyes...a more detailed form took shape. Tall, broad shouldered, with longish hair and handsome face. He may have had glasses on. She wasn't entirely sure. He might have also been smiling at her.
"Is that you...Christopher?" It seemed outrageous and silly to try and communicate with a ghost but then again, maybe not. She briefly thought of her abuela, her grandmother, who used to bake cookies and tell her ghost stories as as a little girl.
