I realized when my marriage of 15 years ended that I didn't want to do that again. It's not that I have anything against marriage, it's just that there are some creatures that simply don't thrive in captivity. I'm one of them. Instead, I took my show on the road. Taking my lead from those Travel Channel programs, where the host samples the cuisine from various stops along the road, I decided to do the same with sex. Do women in Dallas taste the same as those in Boston? Does a California girl give head like a Georgia peach? These are my journeys. This is my odyssey.
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It smelled like a boring seminar.
I probably wouldn't have bothered with it except for two things: 1) it was taking place in Vegas and offered up a chance to sample some desert women (I'm not talking professionals here – any collector will tell you the true joy is in the searching, not the easy finding) and 2) it was fucking tax deductible.
I'm not a gambler by any measure but I am a people watcher. After checking into my room, I headed down to the casino. It was four o'clock in the afternoon – too early to start hunting for night time company. I fed $20 into a slot machine and played slowly, watching the crowd around me. The cocktail waitress was cute but she let me know quickly that – though she was a local – she was all business.
There was a banquet scheduled for that night – a kind of "getting to know you" mixer that in the past had proven about as exciting as an autopsy. After wasting a couple of hours walking through the casino, I decided to head back to my room to get ready. As I came through the lobby heading for the elevators, I heard a familiar voice giving the desk clerk royal hell.
"Cathy?" I said, stepping up behind her.
"Richard," she said, wrapping me in a hug that lasted a New York minute. "The fucking bastards lost my reservation!"
The desk clerk looked embarrassed, not only because of the tone of her voice but its volume. "We'll have it resolved in just a moment if you'll..."
"Where's Jim?" I asked. I'd met Cathy and her husband, Jim at a seminar in Clearwater Beach some two years earlier. Since then we'd kept in touch by infrequent e-mails and an occasional phone conversation. We were by no means good friends but we were grand acquaintances.
"Stayed home. Go figure. Guess he's losing interest in the old broad. Gail here?"
I held up my left hand, now devoid of a wedding band, and waved my fingers. "Quoth the raven..."
The smile quickly disappeared from Cathy's face. "No," she said. "I'm so sorry." She gripped my arm with both hands and I could see her emotion was genuine.
"I'm not," I told her.
"Mrs. DeCarlo, the management apologizes for the error and would like to extend you a complementary suite for the duration of your visit." The desk clerk was all but bowing.
"You bet your ass, you will," Cathy said.
It was a good time to make my exit. I told Cathy I'd see her at the mixer and strolled off to catch the elevator.
The banquet was all I expected. Aside from the fact that I hate wearing a suit and tie, collegiate types tend not to make the most exciting conversation. They were all wrapped up in their own projects and grant applications. I have to admit, I really didn't give a rat's fuck.
When I saw Cathy, I nearly spilled my drink. She was wearing a little black cocktail dress and every man and a few of the women were watching her every move. I remembered Gail commenting on Cathy's breasts back on Clearwater Beach. Gail said they couldn't be real, then told me I'd better never find out. Her cleavage in the dress was quite pronounced and stunning on her slender frame. She had to be in her mid to late 40s, yet she had the ass and legs of a teenager. Only the smile lines around her eyes gave away her age. But they were hardly unattractive.
Why had I never taken a closer look at her before? Oh yeah...I was married.
Cathy picked up a glass of champagne and walked over to me. She was obviously experienced in walking in heels. I was trying not to stare.
"You clean up real nice," she said, gesturing to my suit with the champagne glass.
"You are..." I paused searching for the appropriate word.
She smiled. "Yes?"
"Simply incredible," I finally managed.
Cathy laughed. She had a somewhat deep, husky voice. From years of smoking I assumed. When she laughed it vibrated in my libido. "You're good for my ego," she said. "Did you get a nap in? Looks like we're in for a boring night."
I took a sip of my Scotch. "Tell you what. If you start to feel yourself falling asleep, give me a sign and I'll meet you at the bar."
"How about this?" she asked, holding up the pinky on her left hand.
I chuckled. "Perfect."
Seating was assigned. Given my choice, I wouldn't have left Cathy's side for the rest of the night. The banquet started with the customary prayer and opening remarks. Cathy was sitting about four tables away. After the first speaker, I looked over at her to find she was looking at me. She pointed at her champagne glass, then held up three fingers and smiled a dazzling smile.
I got through the salad and chicken-something-or-other, making the smallest of small talk with my fellow academians. When the program finally started, I found myself yawning uncontrollably and flagged down a server to get a cup of coffee. I glanced over at Cathy. She sat her champaign glass on the table in front of her and extended the pinkie of her left hand until it touched her lips. I excused myself from the table and made my way to the bar set up in the rear of the spacious dining room. Cathy waited a couple minutes, then did the same.
"I swear, it gets worse every year," she whispered as we pretended to order from the bar.
"I've got half a notion to blow this off and – in the words of Willie Nelson – go find me a Keno girl who can suck chrome off a trailer hitch."
I thought she'd laugh. She didn't. "I think I'm offended," Cathy said.
"Too crude?" I asked.
"No," she said. "I'm just wondering what the fuck's wrong with me."
I looked slowly down her body – from her hair to her lips to her neck to her breasts to her tight stomach and firm legs – and said, "Not a thing. Not a goddam thing."
Cathy leaned in close. I could smell her perfume and feel her breath on my neck as she whispered, "I don't have much experience with chrome but I'm very enthusiastic."
"What about our friendship?" I whispered to her, my lips so close to her ear that they brushed her skin. "Should we risk it?"
She looked at me, face to face, eye to eye, lips almost touching lips. "Let's," she whispered.
We walked out of the banquet hall together, not caring if anyone noticed. Once in the elevator, I took her in my arms and kissed her. Her lips parted and we both realized at the same time how hungry we were for each other.
"Give me 30 minutes," she said, and gave me the suite number.