Four Rings For Veronica

It must have been about five a.m. when the door of my hotel room latched closed and I heard her footfalls on the padded carpet, stealing away. I had that muzzy "everything out of kilter" feeling when it's far too early to be getting up. You know, the one that comes with being in a strange bed and not quite sure either where you are or why you're no longer sleeping? I was alone and naked between heavily starched sheets.

Last night had been a big celebration. The Company had put on its annual end-of-the-fiscal-year blowout. It had been a good year, so the mood had been festive. The alcohol, my head informed me, had flowed freely.

A lot of people just went home after the party, but the Company had negotiated a cheap rate for rooms at the resort as part of the party package and I'd taken one of them. I had thought my wife, Pamela, would appreciate a romantic night out. Unfortunately, she works in sales for a different tech company, and it turned out she would be away on a business trip when the party rolled around.

"Don't worry about it. Go have a good time!" she told me. "I get more than enough time in hotels as it is, and I'd be bored to death if I had to cheer your company's 'strategic mission' and 'important values' all night. Just be a good boy and don't get into any trouble."

The evening started with exactly the tedious thing Pamela feared. A progression of execs with PowerPoint slides trying to excite the crowd using pie charts while a DJ pumped anonymous dance music over it all. Woot. We gave the obligatory half-hearted cheers: hooray for lessening our operational expenses; hooray for gross margins! Finally, Chris Parkinson, the founder and CEO, looking dapper in his white summer suit, mounted the stage, told a few jokes, kept his remarks mercifully short, and freed us of our misery to let us party. He left the stage to real cheers as everyone streamed out of the conference area towards a makeshift casino with door prizes, the disco setup with the aforementioned DJ--and the plentiful supply of free liquor. It had been a very good year.

Along towards eleven, as most of the married or parental folks were going home, I filtered towards the bar and ordered a tall drink, intending to nurse it until I could go sack out. While I waited on the bartender, Dave Kurtic, another engineering director, sidled up next to me. He's also married to my sister-in-law, Cynthia, so he's more than just a colleague.

"Cynthia waiting for you to finish up with the schmoozing?" I asked him.

"Nah, she didn't come tonight. She hates these things. It's supposed to be fun, but, well, you know..." He waved a hand.

I did indeed know. We were both working at "giving permission" to team members to let down their hair. Modeling good "having fun" behavior turned out to be hard work. I was glad for her sake that Pamela and Cynthia had skipped out. So, we took our drinks and made room for others at the bar. As we did, Dave brushed up against a tall gal carrying her own tall drink. I recognized her by sight, as someone I'd seen here or there in the building where my office was located.

Dave introduced her as "Veronica". She was maybe in her early thirties and her hair and heels accentuated her height. Dave's five foot ten and I'm a couple inches over six feet. With high heels, she was practically at eye level with me. Her hair was piled up in an elaborate do, making her taller overall. She was wearing cute tortoise-shell glasses in front of big blue eyes that sparkled with delight. It was a novel experience, having flirty eyes right at the same level, challenging me. When I dropped my gaze, it fell on her sequined, sparkly, knee-length party dress, which was working overtime to both camouflage meaty thighs and accentuate a modest bust. My look must have lingered in that pleasant valley, because when I looked back up level, her perfectly decorated red lips quirked just slightly at knowing her charms had been appreciated.

She laughed loud and freely, coming across as just this side of smashed. I might have felt protective, but Dave is a heel: he sensed opportunity. He put the moves on her, touching her arm with a winking gaze. The music made the place loud, so I would have had to lean in to follow their conversation. His body language was eloquent. He wanted to take her somewhere private and do unmentionable things with her. Normally, I wouldn't care what a colleague did or didn't do and who he did or didn't do it with. But he was also my brother-in-law. There were plenty of business trips or meetings where his wandering eye took him out of his lane. I couldn't go home and gripe about him to Pam, nor did I feel right

hiding

what he did from her either. Sooner or later, the chicks he fooled around with would turn into chickens that came home to roost. I thought about his wife and mine and thought I should maybe do more than pretend to follow whatever the red ring of her lips was saying. I leaned into the conversation to hear her murmurs to him.

"I don't know, Dave. You're a fun guy, but what will you say tomorrow," she slurred. Dave looked a bit uncomfortable, seeing me following the conversation. I figured at this point he'd find a way to let her down politely, rather than risk embarrassing himself. He backed off a little, but only to snag her another drink. He turned in such a way to make clear: I was cramping his style. Should I be wandering off somewhere? How else would I have plausible deniability when he ultimately did manage to spirit her away for some hanky-panky? I frowned into my drink, trying to plan my escape, when rescue appeared. Sandy McCuller, the CTO and our boss, cruised up.

"Gents. Hope you're enjoying yourselves. Our fearless Founder has gotten a bit schnocked. Dave, could you help me ensure that Chris makes it somewhere safe?" Dave went off with her to ensure reputations were maintained, leaving me with Veronica.

"You're that guy from engineering!" she proclaimed, stabbing a finger at me. Those blue eyes locked onto mine again.

"I guess I'm that guy," I agreed.

"You want to dance with me?" she asked, moving to stand inside my comfort zone. In my mind's eye, I pictured her rubbing her body against mine in a slow dance while all our co-workers looked on. Hm, that seemed unattractive at best. But given her steady diet of booze, I thought I could help by guiding her in the direction of safety. Otherwise, things would descend into demonstrations of "limbless walking" or perhaps "commode hugging". She didn't deserve that.

"Are you staying at the hotel?" I asked.

"Oh, you're dirty," she said, "horning in on Dave like this. What do you think? Should I be his... whatever... tonight? I could take us to my place, but we'd need to get a ride..." She fumbled with a handbag, which concealed one of those oversized phones in a sparkly pink case.

"I wasn't thinking of anything like that," I replied. I had on my director voice.

"Sure, honey. You're a good Company man and a good husband," she said. I guided her out of the dark, smokey dance area towards the hotel entrance. Outside it was crisp and thankfully quiet. The fresh air tasted good.

She struggled with her phone and finally got it unlocked. A bit more struggling and then she cursed.

"Damn, there's no drivers," she announced. The app was searching for a ride for her. This place

was

a little remote and every rideshare this side of the Rockies had already served partygoers.

"How long does it say?"

"Still searching... you've got a room, don't you?" she asked.

"I do."

"Why don't you show me?" A tiny alarm bell went off in my brain. If I took her to my room, she might very well fall out of that dress...

"I dunno, my wife isn't here, and it's not really set up for double occupancy..."

"Nobody's gonna know," she interrupted.

We walked back inside, to the elevators, while I contemplated how to wriggle out of this. There was no way I was going to sleep with--or even

next to

--anyone from the Company, especially a co-worker in her apparent condition.

Sandy and Dave were in the elevator when it arrived in the lobby. If Dave had been making sure our CEO was tucked in, then it must have been strenuous, since Sandy was tucking her blouse back in. Dave's face went through the philanderer's stages of grief: from joy at having gotten away with something to embarrassment at being caught by a potential inamorata target before landing on the neutral smile that was eloquent in thinking about tomorrow. He'd wanted Veronica, but was happy to see me getting into that compromising (such as it was) situation with her instead, while secretly flaunting his bagging of our boss. It was frankly disgusting.

"You going to show me your suite, Andrew? I need to sleep this whole thing off," Veronica said, in a voice filled with daggers. Aw, shit, she did remember my name.

"She's going to sleep it off," I said grimly to Sandy as the elevator doors snicked shut. Dave had a five o'clock shadow grin, seeing as how, for the first time ever, he thought he'd be the one keeping a secret from our wives. I used my keycard and pushed my floor number. Veronica held onto my arm as we rode and kept holding it as we navigated the corridor. Thankfully we didn't see anyone. As quickly as I could manage it, we were outside my room, fumbling with the lock.

When the door whumped safely shut behind us, it left us in a pitch-black room. I stumbled around in the darkness until I found the bed with the back of my knee. Veronica stumbled into me and pushed me down onto it hard. I started to feel about for a bedside lamp--there must be one! --to get some illumination going, but Veronica was pushing me onto the bed. Her laugh was five or six notes of music, exuberant with joy.

"I'm not that drunk, Andrew. Do you prefer Andrew? Andy? Look at your, taking me to your room and pulling me into your bed. What would your wife think?"

"It's Drew, I suppose. Help me find the light switch," I replied, trying to keep the "manager voice" going. I didn't want to acknowledge the situation. I could put her to rights in a second, when I had a little light on the subject.

"I think we're going to have a good time tonight, Drew," she whispered. Her lips were right against my ear, her breath sending shockwaves through my body. One of her hands was searching for something to hold on to.

"Don't be silly, Veronica, we just had a tumble. If I could only find the light..."

"We haven't had our tumble yet," she whispered, "but I'm sure we're about to."

I paused in my search for illumination and really concentrated on my situation. I was on my back beneath this tall, drunken woman, on the bed in my suite. She had a hand trying to arrange my equipment to--or rather for--her satisfaction. It was a sloppy, fumbling, silly sort of situation. From the outside, it would look childish and stupid.

She kissed my neck beside my ear and exhaled gently into it. I wasn't firmly on the bed and would flop onto the floor if I didn't steady myself. The beaded skirt having crept up above its appointed level, I found my hands grappling with bare thighs and an ample caboose as I scooted to keep both of us from falling. She worked her knees onto the bed astride me and must have thought I was trying to get her into the cowgirl's saddle. I felt her move, pressing her mound against me.

I couldn't help it; her breath in my ear and the feel of her next to me meant that I was getting aroused. She was all soft curves and sensual motion, each inch of my body paired up with one along hers, a feeling I'd never encountered before. She was pleasing herself, brushing her sensitive geography across me, while her lips showered my sensitive throat with wet, sensual kisses. Finally, our lips met, just a brush. Then a longer embrace.

I couldn't pull back. I had to turn my head to break the kiss.

"We can't," I panted. Her fingers were loosening my belt.

"I don't..." I tried to say, trying to reach to stop her hand as it unhooked my trousers.

"Shh," she replied. "Let me take care of you tonight. No one will know."

She'd removed her hand and leaned upright.

"I only want you to be comfortable while we sleep," she said. Her weight relented as she climbed off the bed.

"Okay," I thought, "Crisis averted." I tried again to figure out where the light switch was.

I heard the rustle of clothes and the sound of clothing hitting the carpet. In the darkness, she'd pulled off her dress. More sounds, more clothing on the floor.

"You should get comfortable too," she said. "You can't sleep in a blazer."

Instead of letting me up to take it off, though, she leaned back into me for a kiss. Her skin was naked under my hands, warm and smooth. My right hand sailed down the slope of her back to find that only her panties remained on. Her breath tasted of tequila and the remains of her lip gloss.

I realized I had kissed her back. I pulled back and swallowed.

"I'm not a cheater. I'm married. And this would be an inappropriate..."

"We're just getting comfortable for bed. I won't take advantage of you. Promise. Although, I must say, your kiss is hot."

She backed off again and at last I found the light switch. The lamp shot a hideously bright glare through the room. We squinted.

She stood up by the bed, letting me survey her body, while she put her glasses on the side table. Her hair was disheveled, billowing out of the elaborate arrangement on her head, and her lipstick was smeared. "She has a nice smile," I remember thinking, trying not to let my gaze take in her big dark nipples and Rubenesque curves.

I thought about going out to find Sandy and getting a spare room key from her, but that felt foolish. By now my hair would be mussed and I'd look like I'd done the nasty. I needed to keep this inside this room. So, instead I got up and kicked off my shoes. My trousers were somehow open and falling to my knees, so I stripped them off and then shucked the coat and my dress shirt over them. I kept my tee shirt, boxers, and socks on.

Meanwhile, she'd pulled the inevitable polyester bedcover down and was slipping between the sheets.

There was no couch. Sleeping in a chair looked... uninviting.

"Come on, Drew," she said, as if reading my mind. "We can just sleep, and no one will ever know any difference. It will be a funny story. One we keep to ourselves."

I slid into the other side of the bed as she switched off the light, plunging us back into total darkness. I still had afterimages from looking into the naked bulb. I thought that would be the end of it: I'd go to sleep and tomorrow she'd be horribly embarrassed.

I rolled on my side, facing away from her, and tried to get in my "go to sleep" position. I was embarrassed to admit that the kisses had been hot. Turning away from her was necessary, because I felt a thickening in my groin. Nothing too overt yet, but not nothing.

"Drew," she said.

"Yes, Veronica?"

"If I promise to stop there, will you kiss me goodnight?"

I thought about Pam in some hotel room in another city. I thought about what everyone around the office would think tomorrow, if I couldn't count on her discretion. But, what the hell? What harm could one kiss have?

I rolled over to face her and put a hand on her hip.

"Mm," she hummed, snuggling closer. She was warm and supple, her only clothing the thin pink panties. As our lips found each other, I realized that thickening I'd felt before was nothing. That part of me now went 'sproing': I was extremely hard. My cock was sticking out of my boxer fly, and given her height, wanting to nestle directly where it was designed to go. Her plumpish breasts brushed against my t-shirt while her toes and mine were dancing together.

I'd meant to give her a quick peck, but her arms pulled us together. I felt her tongue dart out and answered it. She wasn't stopping. To my discredit, I wasn't either. There were quick sips of breath between passionate mouth tangles.

She took control, rolling me onto my back, not into the cowgirl's saddle she'd been in before, but instead a body-long embrace, with her weight a pleasant crush. The long sinuous curve of her pressed her mound against a part of me that was alive with desire. Her toes and mine were mixed up together as I opened my mouth wider in a passionate soul kiss. I let a hand fill up with a cupful of boob, and this incited hunger in her movements.

Her hand... her hand darted between her legs and pulled her panties to one side. She worked her hips and fingers and all I knew was that my throbbing cock was getting caressed somewhere warm and wet.

She pressed her pelvis down until I was buried completely within her. I should have stopped, but I thrust up into her.

"That's right, that's right, Drew, fuck me. Fuck me hard," she gasped. We were moving together, lips, bodies,

everything

perfectly aligned.

"In me, in me, in me. Put it all in me," she panted. She nipped at and bit my throat while thumping her thick body rhythmically onto my engorged tool. I could dimly hear the wet squelch of our joining. Her wetness was sticky and somewhat gluey. It wasn't frantic, but we were both gasping quickly. In blindfolding darkness, our other senses took over. Sound, taste, smell, and touch carried me along on a wave of fervent need.

"Cum in me, cum inside me," she begged. The end came quickly and urgently as I obeyed her call. I heard myself grunting as I shot my load deep into her center.

"Yass..." she hissed. I held her curvy, sweaty mass gently in the afterglow for a few moments. Then, with a sigh, she collapsed to rest beside me. I felt around to bring the dislodged sheets over our shameful coupling.

"Thank you, daddy. I liked your kiss good night," she said, in a little girl's voice.

I laid there, worried that there would be consequences in the morning. What had I been thinking? Why hadn't I been thinking? I could hear her breathing even out, eventually even the beginning of a little snore.

I must have dozed off into fitful sleep. At some point, I woke slightly, and found myself in bed with a warm womanly body. I felt hot and pulled off my tee shirt, throwing it onto the floor. Her skin felt good, strong shoulders and a curving spine turned towards me. My movement and touch must have woken her slightly. She turned onto her back, then towards me. I touched her. She touched me. Just little glancing moves, just loosely, not really embraces. But each a little more, then a little too much to ignore. Each built upon the previous one.

Still half asleep, I was dimly aware that my cock was already very hard by the time her hand brushed the tip. She was touching me, so my fingers slipped between her thighs, diving under the panties. There was a thick wiry bush atop a furry mound and then a sticky cleft. I thrummed my fingers around her pleasure point, a firm knot of joy that seemed bigger and more evident than I was used to.

We were both panting now, so I kissed her. She shifted her body. Her thighs were parting as I mounted between them. Our bodies matched up perfectly, making everything seem so natural. I could join my lips to hers while simultaneously entering her below. Languorous and slow, I fed my meat into her waiting grasp. Her one hand was on my chest, the other behind my ear. We traded "uhs" and "ahs" and "ohs". I heard the velocity of her sighs build, the deeper catch with each one, until I felt her release as a quaver in her thick shivering thighs and a tightening around my stabbing manhood.

In an almost detached way, I wondered at the feeling of buildup, my dick swelling, the heat of fresh hot seed inflating me. Then I twitched and jerked. I thought I could feel the streams of hot jism jetting into her depths. One... two... three... uncountable... before it slowed to a gentle, tender pulsing.

When I rolled free, my still-stiff boner dripping goo, she sighed and whispered again "Thank you, daddy."