The convention had ended earlier in the afternoon, and most everyone had already checked out and headed back to the airport. I purposely stayed another night in the hotel, not in any hurry to get home to where my life was more complicated and stressful.
On the road, life seemed easier. Breezier. And sleazier.
I'd gone back to the room, showered and changed into casual clothes, a pair of khakis, a button-down white Oxford, blue blazer and loafers. No socks.
From the Carolinas, that's casual. Most everywhere else, that's preppy.
I walked into the lobby bar around 6 o'clock thinking I'd get a drink and maybe walk the streets of DC before making late dinner plans. I ordered a vodka tonic, a double, and collapsed into a chair. I didn't even notice the woman two seats to my right until I sat down. She was looking at me smiling.
I stood immediately and apologized for being impolite, and she laughed and answered in a Southern drawl, "Oh hush. I did the same thing 10 minutes ago."
She'd been at the convention, too. I'd seen her across the room the morning before, both of us away from the groups huddled in serious conversations. Neither of us were interested in what anyone else had to say. We were both drinking coffee when our eyes met. We lingered just for a second, staring instinctively at the other's wedding band.
I raised my coffee cup and she did the same, blushing slightly then walking back into the conference room.
And now here she was again, dressed casually in jeans and a white blouse, gold hanging from her neck and wrists and sexy boots. She was stunning, green eyes and blonde hair with a slight hint of red. Her skin was alabaster, starkly accentuating her red lips and nails.
She was perfect.
"Are you just gonna stare at me or order me a drink?" she asked, breaking me out of a reverie.
"You are so damn pretty," I stammered before turning to the bartender.
"Fix the lady a drink, please," I said. "It's on me."
He made her another margarita as she polished off the first one, and he asked if I'd like to charge the drinks to the room.
"1233," I said, looking back to make sure she'd heard my room number.
"We're on the same floor," she said, a sly smile forming in the corner of her mouth.
I got up from my chair and moved to the seat next to hers.
"I'm Charles," I said, holding out my hand. "My friends call me Charlie."
"Well, Charlie," she said, taking my hand and squeezing it sensuously, then dropping my hand to the bar without lifting hers.
"I'm Charlotte," she said, pronouncing it "Shah-laht."
I recognized the accent. It was pure South Carolina. I tilted my head and said "Let me guess. Columbia?"
"Charleston," she cooed.
We both smiled widely.
"Charlie and Charlotte from Charleston," I said. "I'm not going to tell you where I'm from. It'll just confuse things."
"You must be from Charlotte," she said confidently.
I lifted my glass, and she lifted hers.
"Here's to Charlotte," I said.
"Damn straight," she said.
Her hand was still on mine, her nails softly caressing my palm as she took a drink without taking her eyes from mine. She traced one finger down my palm to the underside of my wrist as we stared into each other's eyes.
My cock began to swell as I finally broke the silence.
"Are you in a hurry to get home?" I asked.
She shook her head slowly as she continued to trace her nail on my palm and wrist.
"No," she said. "You?"
I just shook my head without saying a word and took another sip from my drink. We were both smiling at each other, both of us studying the other. Finally she took her hand from mine and raised it to my hair, brushing a lock from my forehead.
"You're not so bad yourself," she said, taking a long swig from the margarita and standing suddenly. "Another round?"
"Sure," I said, standing and pulling her chair back.
"Two more please," she told the bartender. "Charge them to 1233."
She winked at me and walked away, leaving her purse on the chair.
"I'll be right back," she said, walking toward a restroom, her ass swaying, both the bartender and I staring.
"My God," I said. "Have you ever seen a more perfect ass in your life?"
"Nope," he said. "Can't say that I have."
She knew we were watching. You can tell.
I was talking to the bartender when she returned, standing behind me with one hand on my shoulder, leaning in to grab her drink.
"Keep your seat, handsome," she said quietly, one of her breasts brushing against me as she reached.
She stood there and rubbed my shoulder as the bartender turned to wipe the bar. I spun around in my chair and she was standing inches from me, her tits in my face. She was wearing no bra.
"Up here," she said, putting one finger under my chin and pulling it up to where I was no longer staring at her perfect nipples protruding through the sheer white blouse.
She traced her finger down my neck and chest, down the front of my shirt to my belt, where she tapped the buckle and smiled at me.
"So tell me Charlie," she said. "Do you think they'll be serving drinks in 1233?"
I smiled and wrapped one arm around her, three fingers on her waist and two on the top of her ass.
"I'm quite certain that can be arranged," I said, standing and letting my hand slide across her ass. Her hand brushed the bulge in my pants as I stood, and she blushed deep red.
I signed the check and met her at the elevator. She was holding the door open and had already used her room card to push '12,' the concierge level.
As the door closed, I pulled her toward me, her lips inches from mine. I felt her hips push into mine and sensed one of her legs coming off the ground. I reached down and grabbed her under a thigh and pulled it high and out a little, then I slammed my swollen cock between her legs, still not kissing her, grinding my cock into her as we stared into each other's eyes.
