Chapter 1: Watching Her From My Hotel Room
This occurred several years ago on a business trip to Denver. I was attending a dull, snowbound three-day conference and was regretting it from the moment I stepped out of the airport. The conference sucked. The speakers were weak; the materials were lousy; and the place just sucked. The downtown Convention Center itself is nice but in the winter, it feels like you're inside one of those cheap, touristy, snow globes... only with the snow being on the outside. Why couldn't they host these conferences in Hawaii? I ate at the Cheesecake Factory the first night but eating solo just isn't enjoyable. So the second night, I decided to order room service and just bore myself to death with whatever was on tv. I resisted the urge to watch the porn channels knowing that all my expenses would be scrutinized in detail by the corporate accounting trolls when I turned in my trip receipts.
One positive note was that the hotel was packed with noisy college kids. Apparently the conference coincided with some nationwide fraternity-sorority conference. There were drunk, partying coeds everywhere you looked. That's another reason I decided to stay in. Every place that was open was packed to the gills. It was perpetual happy hour, which was fantastic... well, it would've been, that is, 10 years ago when I was still in college.
So, miserable me.. I found myself at one point late in the evening looking out the window at the hotel's second tower across the street and noticing several rooms with people pressed against the windows and watching something. They were gesturing to others in the room to come see, and they were all bunched up at the windows. There was a commotion at the street with a bunch of guys looking up at my building and hooting and hollering. After a moment, I gathered that somewhere below my floor, there was a couple who was putting on a show for the audience. I watched the people in the rooms across the way to see if I could figure out more. Some girls in one room were laughing and flashing their boobs at the guys on the street. That prompted more cheers. Cool, Mardi Graz. I flicked off the light in my room and turned off the tv to spy in private.
Whatever was going on, it must've been good. I saw a young couple huddled by their window intently watching the show. The girl was pressed against the window, resting her palms on the glass, and the guy was reaching around her fondling her breasts and slipping his hand inside her pants. They made out for a few minutes and I was rewarded with a couple flashes of her small breasts before the guy disappeared from view. A second later, their room went dark. Nuts. On the floor above them, I watched a lone girl peeking out from between the curtains in her room. The lights in her room were off, but her window was lit up a little from the hotel's sign next to her room. She was wearing a robe, something satiny, and touching herself. I caught fleeting glimpses of her thigh and dark pubic hair as she alternated between cupping her breasts and then slipping back down to rub between her legs. I slipped off my sweatpants and stroked myself. All too soon though, she must've finished or gotten bored because she stepped away from the window and was gone. Nuts, again. In another room, four girls were rushing about in various states of undress. I watched them parade out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel or buck naked, and get dressed. They tugged at bra straps and adjusted each others' clothes before rushing out to whatever party they were off to. Hmmm, that was nice.
I scanned the other rooms for something else to watch but most people seemed to have lost interest. After a while, nearly all of the rooms across the way were dark. All except for a couple rooms. One room was about one floor below and maybe one room over from mine. The curtains were open only partway but the room was fully lit. I could see a swath of the bed lit up and saw someone's legs. A girl's, I hoped. This was confirmed when one leg shifted and a girl wearing only her underwear moved past between the curtains. I had only time to register a small slender body, short, dark hair, wearing a dark bra and panties. I stared at the bed, hoping to see her again. Suddenly the curtains were swept aside and she appeared at the window. I froze, suddenly scared that she was looking at me. But she was looking down towards the street. She had a very nice body... short, maybe 5'2" I guessed, slender, tiny waist, curvy hips, nice legs, nice, round breasts... probably a B cup. She must've become aware that she could be seen because she quickly flicked off the lights in her room. I could just make out her outline as she returned to the window and then retreated. A minute later her room was dimly lit up. She had turned on the tv and I could see her laying on the bed, lit up by the flickering blue-white light. I wished I had a pair of binoculars. I was fully caught up in this voyeur role. Her skin was tan, maybe a light mocha color. It was hard to be certain in the tv light. As near as I could tell, she was middle eastern maybe. And that was when I recognized her.
Her name was Aysha. We'd met at the conference that morning during one of the many coffee breaks. She drank her coffee with cream which I happened to be pouring for myself when she approached. Someone was hovering close by my side and I turned to find myself looking at a very pretty, petite, young, Indian woman holding a coffee cup in her hand. She smiled when I raised my eyebrow and gestured towards her cup. I noticed her delicate hand as I added the cream to her coffee. Then I noted her soft green eyes and her lips as she thanked me. Her eyes and her lips both gave the impression that she had had an amusing thought. Later, I decided that it was her natural expression. It was something about the way her eyes were shaped and how the corners of her mouth hinted at a smile. She also had a beautiful voice... soft, but strong, feminine, confident. My eyes flickered towards her name tag and I heard her say "Aysha" as I read her name. I smiled again and told her that it was a pleasure to meet her. And it was. Most of the industry people I work with are older, fat, dumpy, people... your typical desk-jockies interspersed with a handful of young, energetic, consultant-bound professionals. I'm somewhere in between, but Aysha was definitely one of the young 'uns. She barely looked older than the coeds roaming the hotel lobby. She was dressed in a contemporary young-professional kind of business suit.. some kind of ivory-beige silk blend with that see-through gauzy kind of blouse underneath her jacket.
I'm on the younger side of the industry norm so maybe there was a common-age bonding thing going, or maybe she just thought I was younger. But we started talking and ended up skipping the next seminar. At first, she was somewhat reserved, but soon we were laughing together. She had an easy laugh and her eyes twinkled as she got more animated. We had common college experiences (though mine were several years before hers) and common workplace stories (young upstarts in the corporate world). There was a lunch break afterwards and we just followed the herd into the dining area and sat down at a mostly vacant table. I noticed that once the professional air was let go, she was very personable and physical... hand gestures and casual touching on the arm, touching my knee, that kind of thing. We started a game of making up stories about other conference attendees to crack each other up. Some woman in the restroom, she told me, was having a fit because her secret lover had shown up at the conference and a coworker had confronted her about it right there in front of everyone. This turned in to us being translators as we watched conversations going on at other tables. 'Say, Bob, we've know each other for what, 2-3 years, now? Why haven't you ever made a pass at me? We're both middle-aged, unattractive, balding men here... don't you think I have a nice ass?'
'Hi there. Helen, was it? I hope you don't mind me being forward, but your overbleached mustache is giving me quite a woody. Seriously, that's a fact. Want to touch it?' It became a contest of wits to see who would break first. She was exceptionally good at mimicking accents, while I relied on crude innuendos and bad puns to crack her up. It was great fun and we were almost in tears before the lunchtime presentations began. The lights were turned down, and I was treated to watching her profile in the dim light.
