It seems hard to imagine that a combination of an oppressively hot August week in New York City combined with 5 days of non-stop, mind-numbing lectures could lead to the single greatest 24 hours of my life.
Every August, my company holds its annual conference. Usually the only upside to the conference is getting a chance to hang out with Kathryn. We would sit in the back of the room making fun of the various management staff under our breath. Unfortunately there would be no such fun this year, as our department had been split in two and Kathryn and I and would have different sessions.
There was a major upside however. This year the conference was being held in New York City. It is about a four hour drive from our home, so I was able to bring my wife Maria along. Judging from the piles of shopping bags in our hotel room, she was certainly enjoying herself.
Each night, Kathryn, Maria and I would go out on the town. I had expected that Kathryn would ditch us at the door in search of fun and adventure, but was surprised to find that she was low key. Leading up the conference, we had joked that Kathryn should request a hotel room with a revolving door. We were surprised at her G-rated week.
Unfortunately, my own week was turning out G-rated as well. When Maria first found out I was taking her along, she promised me endless evenings of passion. Instead, our first three nights had been going out on the town and returning to the hotel either tired or too drunk to do anything.
By Thursday night the partying had caught up to Maria and she was too tired to go out. At first, I interpreted her "quiet night at the hotel" to be an invitation. But when she said that she was going to bed at 8 PM, I called over to Kathryn's room and made plans for another evening out.
I was pretty excited to hear Kathryn suggest we go to a strip club. Of all the people I've gone to strip clubs with, Kathryn is the most fun. She is completely uninhibited and women always get away with more than a man can. When we discovered it was amateur night, I tried to convince Kathryn to give it a try.
Unfortunately even a half-dozen drinks couldn't change her mind. I think she was having too much fun watching the dancers and critiquing them and their boob jobs. "Man, they really mauled that poor girl," she said laughing. Pointing another so-called "amateur" with lopsided breasts, she wondered aloud if she'd gotten her boob job at Walmart.
Rather than the drinks loosening Kathryn up, they appeared to be making her bitter and aggressive. I figured it was her pent-up sexual frustration from the past week. I wrote off any chance of getting her to take the stage and instead focused on keeping her from saying anything that would get my ass kicked.
Around midnight I talked her into leaving. At first I thought we could hit another bar, but considering Kathryn's mood, I figured it was safest to head back to the hotel. I got her into her room before leaving to return to my wife.
Friday morning the three of us ate breakfast before the first session of the final day was due to begin. Maria had already mapped out her victory lap of upscale Manhattan shops. By this point, I was surprised the mag strip on our credit cards hadn't worn off and would be grateful if our credit card bill wasn't delivered in a shoebox.
I kissed Maria goodbye and Kathryn and I headed over to our first session of the day. The good news was that we were in the same meeting for once. The bad news was this was the only session we'd be in together, and it was compounded by being a sure-fire snooze fest. The company president was the keynote speaker and was perhaps the dullest man alive. Worse still, all the VPs would be unofficially taking attendance and no-shows were certain to hear about it.
We walked into the meeting room together. I always loved walking into rooms with Kathryn. She always dressed to kill at these things and when she walked in, every head turned. While it was still "business professional," it accented her features very well. Kathryn had incredible legs, and always wore heels and skirts to show them off. Today she wore a maroon blouse that showed a little cleavage with a fitted jacket that advertised her tiny waist. She wore tasteful makeup, but chose the fire-engine red lipstick for a little dramatic effect.
"I would do anything to get out of this," she whispered so as not to be overheard.
"Anything?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Anything!" she insisted.
"I might be able to help you out," I said. "Do you have your beeper on you?"
"Of course," she replied. Kathryn and I worked in the sales & support division of the company and were required to be accessible at all times.
"Give me your pager number and the number of one of your customers," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
I pulled out my cell phone. "I'll page you. You can excuse yourself to take the call. Then wait about ten minutes and you page me and use this number," I said, writing my pager and another phone number on a napkin. "It'll be fun to cut class," I said with a laugh.
"Why do we need to use the customer numbers?" she asked.
"No personal pages, remember? They just installed software to cross-reference."
"Wow, you think of everything," she smiled.
Shortly after the meeting began, I placed my hand in my jacket pocket and quietly dialed. About a minute later, Kathryn's beeper went off. She politely excused herself (and as an added bonus, I got an awesome view of her ass as exited the row we were sitting in).
A few minutes later my beeper went off. I concealed my grin, pretended to be a little embarrassed and made a quick exit. I felt the euphoria of freedom as the ballroom door closed heavily behind me.
I expected Kathryn to be outside, but was disappointed to find her nowhere in site. Just then I got a text message on my cell reading, "Bar."
I walked over the bar and there was Kathryn drinking a Bloody Mary with another waiting for me.
"You're a genius!" she said, handing me my drink and raising her glass. "I would be going out of my mind right now."
"I know. But we can't stay here. Anyone walking by will see us and our excuse of customer support is blown," I said. "Grab your drink and let's head upstairs. It's too hot out and I'm way overdressed for this heat."
We quickly headed upstairs. After almost getting caught by the elevators, we headed for the stairs. She was on the eighth floor, and the stairway was hotter than hell. Apparently the stairway was not air conditioned and the hot August air was suffocating. By the time we reached the eighth floor we were already gasping for air and I'd begun to sweat. Opening the door to her room, the cool air conditioning felt great.
"So much better to be here," I said as the door to her room closed behind us. "I've had enough company BS for one week."
"Me too," answered Kathryn. "I am so burned out from this week. Day after day of these sessions is driving me nuts. I've had no fun all week."
"At least we've have fun after hours." I said. "You, Maria and I haven't spent this much time together in a long time."
"Not the kind of FUN I was talking about, you idiot," she laughed. "I've met nothing but sleaze balls all week."
"Wow, and you have like NO standards!" I exclaimed. "You'd suck off Hitler."
"Fuck you, asshole!" she laughed.
"Gee, what's it been, a week?"
"Well, only about 90 minutes since I had a deep and meaningful experience with my battery buddy in the shower," she laughed.
I tried to think of something witty, but my brain just vapor-locked. Kathryn had the ability to leave you speechless.
"I'm sorry, I'm roasting here," I said as I took off my jacket and loosened my tie. "August in New York City is oppressive." We walked over to the small table by the air conditioner and sat down, placing our drinks on the table.
"No shit," she answered. After another sip from her drink, she got up and walked over to closet. She took over her jacket and hung it up. I was glad to see her lose the jacket. As she faced the closet, I caught a good look at her profile. Her tight blouse accented her curves quite well.
My heart leapt to my throat as I watched her begin to unbutton her blouse. I expected her to stop after 2 or 3 buttons, so I was surprised when she pulled it out of her skirt and unbutton it all the way. I began to hope she would take it completely off when she stopped.
Underneath her maroon blouse she wore a flowery red lace bra. It was one of her "cleavage" bras she bragged about. She'd commented about how uncomfortable they were, but they gave her knockout cleavage. She preferred the attention to the discomfort. I couldn't help but stare.
She stopped short of taking her blouse off completely. "I'm sorry," she began, "I'm roasting right now." She saw my expression and smiled. "Does this bother you?" she asked with a smile.
"Well the blouse is still in the way," I laughed. "But other than that, I'm good."
