What do you do when you are young, single, and horny on an out-of-town business trip? You don't know where the singles' bars are. You are so horny you are willing to pay for sex, but you don't know where to find a whorehouse. Hell, you don't even know where to find a streetwalker. You do what I did. I went to the hotel's bar. There might be some girls there I could hit on. I would probably strike out, but it's impossible to score without trying.
There was a middle-aged woman on a stool chatting with the bartender. Her skirt was much shorter than I would have expected on an older woman. Her legs were worth staring at.
I sat at a window table ten stories above street level. The cocktail waitress was about my age, very pretty, and wearing a wedding band. "What the hell?" I thought. I knew married women occasionally played around, sometimes with their husbands' knowledge, but often without. When she brought my scotch on the rocks, I smiled at her. "This is my first visit to your city," I said. "Are there other places besides this one where I could meet a pretty girl?"
"The bartender is my husband," she said.
"Ah.... I guess I just made a fool of myself."
She smiled. "Don't worry about it. He's used to having men hit on me. He enjoys seeing their reactions when I tell them I'm married and faithful." I felt my face flush. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. The nearest singles' bar is twenty miles away."
I took a deep breath. "The view out the window is pretty nice. Not as nice as the one in here. I'll live. What's the tab?"
"Two dollars."
I gave her three.
The view out the window was pleasant. Cars drove by. Across the street walked a young couple. His arm was around her waist; her head was on his shoulder. I remembered my mother telling me about the innocence of young love. At that moment, I wished I was that lucky guy down there.
"Excuse me," a female voice said. I looked up and saw the woman who had been seated at the bar. "May I sit here?"
I started to stand up. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know this table was taken."
"Would you mind staying? I would like to have someone to talk to."
She was definitely old enough to be my mother; yet, she was still an attractive woman. For a second, I wondered what she would be like in bed. I banished the thought at once. It was obvious I wasn't going to get laid that night, but at least I wouldn't be alone. "You were talking to the bartender when I came in."
"Yes, but we kept getting interrupted by other customers."
"Have a seat. I'm Dave."
"I'm Stella." She gazed out the window at the couple on the sidewalk. "Those were the days," she whispered. A tear formed in her eye. "I'm sorry. I'm reminiscing. You remind me of my husband when he was young. You have the same hair color, the same eyes. I met him at this very table thirty-seven years ago."
"I understand this is a very special spot for you. It must hold a lot of memories."
"You're right. A lot has changed. None of these buildings were here then. The streets hadn't been put in. Across the street was a potato farm. Strangely, I don't miss any of it. Progress has a way of taking over and blotting out the past."
"Not everything has been blotted out. You still remember him."
"We were married for thirty-four years. He had a heart attack a couple years ago."
"I'm sorry for your loss. What drew you to him?""
"Thank you. I didn't have any romantic feelings. It wasn't love at first sight. I just wanted to get him into bed. I wasn't the demure old broad you are looking at. I was a prostitute. I just wanted his money. We went to his room. I took his hundred dollars and fucked him. Then I came back here and sold myself to another guy."
I took a deep breath and shook my head. "I didn't see that coming. Something must have changed how you saw him."
"He kept coming back. He had a lot of money, and he kept paying me for sex. I started expecting him. I wanted him, not so much for his money, but for how he treated me. He was kind and caring. Eventually I stopped taking his money. We got married, and I became a respectable stay-at-home mother."
"That's a beautiful story. You deserve a memory like that."
"It's ironic. A couple weeks before his heart attack, we talked about reliving the night we met. I bought this dress because it is like the one I wore that night. Obviously, it can never happen now."
I thought a moment. "I have a hundred dollars."
Stella's mouth dropped open. She stared at me as though she didn't understand what I said. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"You want to relive the night you met your husband. Wasn't money part of that night?"
"Yes, but there is so broad a difference in our ages. I don't know if you could play his part. You do remind me a lot about him."
"Stella, you are a beautiful woman. I'll be honest. I'm horny. I want to get laid. You want to relive an important moment. We would both benefit."
She folded her arms on the table and looked me in the eyes. "You know something? You're right. Let's do it."
"Did he pay you here or someplace else?"
"I always got the money up front." I took five twenties from my wallet and handed them to her. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm fifty-eight years old, and I'm being a prostitute again."
She put the money into her purse, and we stood up. She waved to the bartender as we headed to the elevator. He stared at us a moment, then shook his head as though clearing it of disbelief.
I pressed the button for the eight floor. "That's were his room was," she said. "It would be too much if you have the same one." When we stepped out of the elevator, I swiped the key card to open the door directly across from the lift. "They had actual keys back then." We entered the room. She looked around. "I can't believe this. It's exactly the same room. It has been redecorated, which is to be expected. There was a double bed, not this king." She flung her arms around my neck and kissed me firmly. "Dave, you are making an old woman very happy."
"It will be twenty years before you are old," I said. "Tonight, you are a young hooker turning a trick." I placed my fingers gently on her cheek and gave her a light kiss. Another, slightly longer, kiss followed.
"As a hooker, I'm supposed to do whatever you want."
"What did he want?"
She knelt, unbuckled my belt, and opened my fly. I started to sit on the bed. "Not yet." Pushing my pants and shorts down together, my cock stood at half-mast just from being exposed to her face. She took it in one hand and began sucking on it while cradling my balls with the other. Her head bounced up and down on my dick. She ran her tongue lightly around the rim of my glans making me inhale sharply. After a minute, she took one of my balls into her mouth to suck on. "You shave. I like that." She continued stroking my cock while she sucked on my other nut. Her hand on my dick had brought it to full attention. She hummed on my nut. The vibration sent a tingle through my loins. She switched back to the first one and hummed again. "You can sit now." I sat down. She took my shoes, socks, pants, and shorts off my ankles while I removed my shirt.
