In April last year, I was booked into the Old Bridge Hotel, Huntingdon. It was a business trip. Two days; three nights, visiting four companies in the north of Cambridgeshire. It was a nice country hotel, just off the A14 and the main street of the town, near the Godmanchester Bridge, with a U-shaped arrangement of rooms. Not a modern executive hotel but a historical place with two dozen nicely fitted rooms and a good room service. As I drove to the car park entrance, another car was coming from the opposite direction and I gave way so it turned in front of me. I parked alongside it and got out at the same moment as an attractive woman of about 30, shorter than I am and all muffled up in winter clothing. It was still cold, even for an English April. She had difficulty getting her big case out of the car and it fell onto the ground with a crunch. I helped her to straighten it and stand it on its wheels. It seemed as heavy as she must have been. She thanked me with a smile, lifted the handle, and wheeled it off in the direction of Reception.
My room was 112; first floor above ground, room 12. As soon as I opened the door and looked out of the window, I could see that I was in one corner of the U, with a view down the long wall of the other leg of the hotel. There were four more rooms down that leg, judging from the windows. And there my curiosity stopped. I closed the curtains. It had been a long drive and I soon fell asleep, until early the next morning.
The next evening, after a day talking, persuading, convincing and cajoling company directors to give orders to my business, I went straight to the bar in the hotel for a quick snack. Then up to 112 at about 7.45. As I opened the door, I was aware of light coming from inside the room and thought I'd left the bedside lamp switched on that morning. But no; as I looked round, it became clear that the light was coming through the window. The hotel cleaner had left my curtains open. I put down my laptop, and walked to the window to see what was so bright. The light was coming from the adjacent bedroom, just round the corner of the U, and on the same floor as mine. The curtains were wide open and I could see that two bedside lamps were lit. Nothing else was visible in the room so I gave it no more thought, turned back into my own room, switched on my own lamp and took of my coat. I went to the bathroom and had a quick shower, brushed my teeth and generally got relaxed, ready for an hour or so watching TV and reading my newspaper. All this time, my curtains were open and the light was still streaming in from the room opposite.
After a few minutes, I noticed from the corner of my eye, that the light coming through my window had changed. It seemed less bright, less intense, so I walked over to the window. In the other room, a woman was walking in front of one of the lamps, casting a shadow across to my room. In the glare of her lamp, I couldn't see much but, as she moved to one side, I saw that she was dressed only in white underwear. And what underwear! I'll be 54 next birthday, so I recognised her outfit as a long white bra, white zipped up girdle with suspenders, black seamed stockings and white shiny satiny panties. A younger man may have wondered what she was wearing but I can remember youngish women dressed like that more than 30 years ago, when I was still dating and not yet married. Not women of my own age, but certainly women in their late 20s or perhaps 30's. They excited me back then, and she excited me now. I couldn't see her face but she had a mass of dark hair, through which the lamp light shone like a halo.
As I watched her and she moved around, I realised she was the woman from the car park. She lifted a dark dress from a chair or a cupboard out of my view, and stepped into it. She reached round and pushed up the zipper from below her waist, and then reached over one shoulder and pulled it all the way to the nape of her neck. Then she stepped into a pair of high heels, which I couldn't see either, but she stood taller and walked to the door. I didn't see her leave her room but I judged her direction and the emptiness of my view. The lamps were still switched on.
Quickly, a plan came to my mind, a dashed to my own cupboard and put my clothes back on, and jumped into my shoes near the door. I grabbed my room-key and went out into the corridor. I was right: she'd walked past my door and was on her way to the lift as I emerged. She seemed taller, about 5ft 9in, and walking on mountainous heels, so she must have been 5ft 4 or 5in without them. She moved beautifully with little steps and her body swaying with each stride. I saw all that in a single glance as she walked away from me. She stopped and looked round and smiled. Her eyes twinkled and her lips parted to show a proper smile with her teeth parted slightly. For some reason, she looked delighted about something and I spoke.
"Good evening. You look very happy."
"Hello again. I am," she replied, "a big problem has just gone away from me."
"Congratulations. It suits you to have your problems solved. You look very well," I was trying to be friendly without being obviously excited by her and my knowledge of her underwear.
I walked with her towards the lift, and pressed the button. I simply wanted to be near her and watch her, imagining her corsetry, until she drove off or met someone else. We got into the lift, and I selected G. We were quiet since it was only one floor, but I smiled at her and thought about the bra holding her ribs and the high girdle stretched over her bottom and across her groin, and the shiny panties between her legs. As we got out, she turned towards the restaurant and I assumed she was on her way to meet someone for dinner. I walked with her and made light conversation.
"Wasn't it a nice day, today. Are you here on business?"
She ignored my first question, as we all do in that situation.
"No, I'm here for pleasure," she said, I thought provocatively. I had another mental picture of her suspenders and stocking tops.
The restaurant was half empty and a waiter came towards us.
"Table for two?"
I was on the point of saying "No" but she spoke up and asked me "Are you alone?"
I said I was and she said to the waiter, "Yes please. Is that alright?" She turned to me and I just nodded. I couldn't believe this was happening. Soon I'd be sitting near a well-girdled woman, twenty years after such a thing stopped happening to me, and her legs would be under the same table as mine. My erection was raging and I half hoped she wouldn't notice it and half that she would. I put one hand in a pocket to hide things a little.
We followed the waiter and took a table for four in a bay window with a radiator. He prepared it quickly for the two of us sitting opposite each other. I carried on with the small talk.
"Did you manage your case alright? It seems very heavy........." she interrupted me.
".........for a little person like me, is that what you're thinking?"
"No, of course not," I lied, "it would be heavy for anyone. Did you manage it?"
"Yes thanks. It's a lot lighter now. I've been able to pass on lots of papers and things – that's why a big problem's been solved."
"How's that?" I raised my eyebrows and nodded my head a little. She reached across the table to a menu and I thought I saw a mark in the fabric of her dress, under one arm, where the long bone of the bra or perhaps the girdle was showing through. My erection was reinforced.
"I was delivering a mass of papers and books to someone. You know how heavy they are. Anyway, they've gone now."
