I have certain visual memories that cycle through my dreams. I hope they never go away. One of these recurring visuals is about a lover who liked to be naked wherever and whenever she could be. Our first "date" lasted just less than a week and the location was a luxurious suite in a five-star hotel in Boca Raton.
The bathroom was big enough to hold a band rehearsal. I lay in the tangled king bed recovering one morning, in wonder of this woman, and I watched her through the doorway brush her teeth at the vanity. She smiled coyly at me in the mirror. She was a "long-brusher" anyway, but she stretched it out as she grinned through toothpaste foam. She slowly pressed her ass toward me, arched, and leaned over the sink. Her body was at a slight angle, so both her ass and right breast were on display. They both moved with her brushing motion. Contrived? Maybe. Provocative? Certainly. And she was deliberate, focused, and practiced at all things sex.
I was mesmerized and made no signs of getting out of the bed. So, like a praying mantis on valium she lifted her right leg and slowly put her ballet-flexed foot on the counter. Her ass, her tanned legs, her open lips... were mesmerizing. She never stopped brushing. A part of me just wanted to stay where I was and revel in her sexual beauty. However, other parts compelled me to lock eyes on hers, swing my legs off the bed, stand up, and get pulled to her. Before my hands were on her hips, she had already departed the station. I had to catch up. "Oh-my-God, how-is-this-even-possible?" rapidly went through my head about ten times. Small sounds of pleading were spilling from her lips. She was so fucking hot and wet. On the first thrust I went as deep as I could and held it. Giant mirrors are awe-inspiring. Her eyes slowly rolled up to mine like a second-hand as if to say, "you better be serious". She silently signaled that she had been responsible for the mood-set and it was my turn to deliver.
So, the visual that comes to me is a three second clip. Lydia is just beginning her typical three-minute orgasm as I plunge into her, the tooth brush is in her hand still, and both arms are bracing for impacts at 1 second intervals. My god she was powerful. Tooth paste froth is breeching her twisted lips and her eyes are loving me. She announces her orgasmic crescendo with a long loud moan and loses her composure to convulsions and eventual collapse. The vanity top supports her weight and my grip on her hips holds her in position as I explode.
This is part of a story about an incredibly erotic affair that takes place over several unforgettable days and nights. The desire and lust we poured into each other is in itself a story of remarkable sexual exploration. It was illicit time we took for ourselves thousands of miles away from our respective lives- I from New York and she from New Orleans - in Boca Raton where our opposing cultural experience found common ground in an erotic love fantasy. We were in a utopian neutral zone where only our hunger for each other mattered. The best of these times, as it often is, was the very first night we hooked-up.
In the years when IBM's sales force was at its peak headcount, new sales recruits would study course material at their home office for months before attending their first four-week training school in Dallas, Texas. It was a high-pressure boot camp and people were regularly shamed and sent home. There were about 100 new IBMrs enrolled in our class and about 20 of them were women.
This is where I first met Lydia. With a few exceptions, we were all recent college or grad-school graduates and therefore in our mid-twenties. In general, IBM hiring managers hired attractive people who often had something extraordinary on their resume or they hired people with connections. I'm a fairly good-looking guy and I also had a connection.
Our class had a sprinkling of college, Olympic and side-lined pro-athletes. We had a couple of military officer veterans and progeny of semi-famous people. We had a few people who were former fashion models, we had a Miss Georgia, and we had a high-society registered debutante from New Orleans. In my experience, I don't recall that IBM was hiring geniuses to sell their machines.
If you don't know, deep-south cities raise daughters of wealthy families to be formally presented to "society" in their late teens. Everything a girl does, the way she walks and talks, the way she looks and dresses and what she has on her resume is intended to be put on display for an army of horny young men(and families) at an over-the-top black-tie ball. The odds are good that the girls get selected by suitors, are embraced by new families, and the famously superficial, pretentious, and incestuous rituals continue like this for generations.
Lydia was a New Orleans debutante and must have stumbled because this hot 5'9" blond with an apple-shaped bubble ass and puckered lips, ended up in an IBM training class. Everything she wore was perfectly fitted for her sexy frame including the thin white blouses that displayed her breasts. She walked, sat, and moved like she had never slouched or slumped in her life. Her availability was always on deliberate poised display. She was friendly and inclusive and every man (and some women) spent a lot of energy trying to get close to her. Yes, I'm 6'3", athletic and most would say I'm attractive, but I wasn't in her league at all and I wasn't exactly available. I was more than happy to be a voyeuristic wing-man for the great guy who did hook-up with her.
We spent a lot of down-time in our small group of three women and two guys which included camping and tubing on the Brazos River. I knew then that floating next to Lydia's bikinied body was the closest I'd ever get to her and I found solace and sexual release with her roommate. The all-consuming craving I had for her was like nothing I had ever felt before. Toward the end of the four weeks I felt, or maybe fantasized, that Lydia felt something for me. Maybe she concluded she had made the wrong choice for a sales-school love toy. I figured that my obsession would fade quickly upon returning home- but that thought- would fuel many a fantasy for a long time.
Three years later I was called on to represent my branch office at a supposed top-secret briefing for a new product to be unveiled. Every sales office in the world would send one person to learn the product and teach the home sales office about it on announcement day. Security, ceremony and the presence of executives would be commensurate with the importance of the product. This one was the long-awaited announcement of a new generation of personal computer. The company had lived through early disasters and mistakes and then played catch-up as millions of PCs were being sold. In hindsight, of course, it was indeed a big deal.
As usual, the company would want us to travel on Sundays to be ready for an early start on Monday morning. And as usual, I would resist this annoyance of using my personal time for company business and catch the first Monday-morning flight out of LaGuardia Airport to Boca Raton and hope that I would make it on time.
This strategy leaves a lot to chance and everything having to do with travel has to be perfect or you have to make it that way. Any issues parking garages, on-time take offs, landing direction, taxis, rental cars...etc. will take you down. This time I was late. The awkward arrival never bothered me for I typically made my apologies and charmed my way back into the good graces of whomever I irritated. This time, I walked into that large classroom with posted security guards and blacked-out windows, with the class already underway - and my life as I knew it changed in an instant.
IBM staff standing in the back urged me to sit down quickly in the last open seat. It was three rows from the rear and in the middle of the row. As I blocked views with my hoisted bag and shuffled sideways behind crowded chairs draped with suit coats, I stopped. With three or four chairs to go I saw that the woman sitting to the right of my seat was Lydia. She had an embarrassingly mischievous smile on her face and our mutual recognition was instantly noticed by a few people. Her eyes teared a little with joy. Had it not been a classroom she would have jumped into my arms with a big hug and bounced on her toes.
I didn't know why- perhaps I was the only familiar face and she was already bored. As I sat, this giddy woman gripped my forearm as if to say, "thank God I'm going to have some fun this week". Well, that's what I read into it anyway. I have no idea what happened at this now famous and iconic product announcement that day—or the entire week. I do know that when I got home the following week-end I had to study hundreds of pages of documents in three-ring binders to understand what it was well enough to teach about seventy-five managers, sales reps and branch office staff.
Like reuniting with a high school crush, we got caught up on each other's lives with notes, whispers and close chat during breaks. We were the only people who shunned the norm of networking and spying for our home offices. We instantly felt an undeniable sexual attraction. I regretted not pursuing her three years earlier and she regretted not inviting me to. It didn't matter now. We both knew we would end up with each other and were yearning to get started.
