For years Jamie and I had worked at the same consulting firm in Chicago, helping large businesses with all sorts of administrative issues. We were at roughly the same level of management, pretty close to the corner office stratus, and occasionally worked together on projects. When we travelled together, it was usually just the two of us, and we'd find ourselves staying at the same hotel, sharing cabs, and meals most days and nights. We had always joked about being road spouses, and though we flirted a little, neither of us was foolish enough to make a serious move.
Not that I didn't think about her, and have the occasional fantasy involving her sweet little 5'4 120 pound frame, balanced nicely between a round firm ass and a pair of fairly large breasts. Waking in a hotel bed, often within hearing distance of her room, I'd often rub one out to a fantasy of her stopping by late one night to share more than stories.
When I was with her, I was taken by her wavy shoulder length highlighted brown locks, her big brown eyes and full red lips. She had a sweet young-sounding voice, and when she had a martini or two, she could get a little raunchy. Sometimes she'd get the conversation steered in some fairly sexual directions, talking about experiences her "friends" had had, or commiserating about how married life just didn't match the excitement of single sex. She always avoided going so far that I really believed that she was ready to take our friendship to a dangerous level. But it was her decision, because, even though I had no interest in cheating on my marriage, she'd be tough to turn down.
After a dinner with clients at a sushi restaurant in Denver one night, we stopped by the hotel bar for a nightcap. It was early, but we'd had several cocktails already, and I was pretty buzzed. She had more than her usual two drinks, and her behavior was getting unusually flirty. So much so that I had a little bit of a hardon from her constant touching. She'd lean close and rest her breasts on my arm, never seeming to notice. Speaking softly and locking eyes in a strongly suggestive manner, she brought up her marriage.
I'd never met her husband, which was kind of strange because I knew most of the spouses in our office, but it seemed that either he or I would happen to miss events that the other attended. She'd told me enough about him for me to picture him as a successful, but not extremely social guy. Tonight she seemed to need to talk about new friction in the home. She asked a few leading questions about the internet and porn, feeling me out on what might and might not be acceptable behavior.
I was guarded, to say the least, but she pressed me, and seemed genuinely interested, and non-judgmental. I can't say I was honest and open, but I told her about some of the more exciting types of fantasy I indulged in, mentioning erotic stories as well as video and photo sites. After a few more drinks, she got me to open up more than I thought she'd want me to.
Basically, I told her, fantasy was about being bad. Naughty, dirty, being bad. Pressed for details, I spilled a little more, panties, messy sex, seduction by straight-laced women. Doing things that you wouldn't want others to discover, or, I told her, maybe just "fucking right out in public." That got her attention, she flushed, and seemed a little turned on.
"How about cuckhold sex?" Jamie asked shyly, her eyes not meeting mine. "Would you want to watch your wife, you know, do things with other men?"
"Well, fantasy and reality are really pretty far apart. I may fantasize about my daughter's 20-year-old best friend, but I'm not going to be slipping away with her. But, no, having my wife used by another guy isn't on my list of turn-ons."
She dropped her head, "I just don't get that one." But the conversation moved on. Actually, back to some of the other fantasies. She got me to tell her about some pretty private stuff, how I preferred a woman unshaved, more natural. My favorite position being on my knees with my face between a woman's legs, how I loved the smell of a wet pussy.
"So, in all of the years we've travelled together, have you thought about us?"
"That's a dangerous question, I'm not sure I want to answer that one," I replied.
She laughed, "I have too, but we've always been good, haven't we? Wait a second," she looked at me directly, "how do you like how I smell?"
"I've always liked your perfume, Jamie."
"No, Mark." She drew closer, staring right into my eyes. "How I smell, how my panties smell. You've sampled me a little, haven't you?"
Wow, was I busted. I had no poker face, more than once I'd buried my nose in Jamie's panties. The first time was when she'd gone to put on her makeup in her bathroom, and left me alone. I spotted a thong on top of her clothes on her suitcase, and had no defense. I had to smell her, and the heady whiff of her cunt was intoxicating. Over the years, I would wish for her to need to use the toilet, I'd show up early hoping she'd need to finish dressing in the bathroom, any chance to see what undies had been snugged up to Jamie's pussy all day. I don't think I'd ever been so turned on by a woman's panties.
I didn't have to answer. She smiled an evil smile, and told me, "there's a lot going on in my private life right now, and I'm not going to tell you about it, but I'm getting in the elevator in five minutes, and if you want to drink from the fountain, so to speak, you'll be in it with me."
She walked off to the ladies' room, while I tried to catch my breath and calm my heart rate. I couldn't process the information. Was this real? Was I going to have my chance, finally, to taste this beautiful woman?
I paid the check. Jamie walked from the rest room to the elevator without looking at me, and I followed close behind. The door closed, and she turned to me. I was frozen, unsure of what was happening, drunk and drunk with lust. She smiled, "twelve."
I was lost, twelve what? What did she mean?
She reached around me and pressed the button. Twelfth floor. She laughed delightedly. "You are going to be so easy, Mark." She dragged her breasts across my side, and held one hand on my stomach. "You okay?"
The elevator lurched, and Jamie stumbled backwards into me. I reached out to grab her, and she stood tall, bending back to look up at me. She giggled, and said, "watch your hands, buddy."
I looked down to find them around her, grasping her abdomen below her breasts, which stood proud from her tight knit top. Still looking me in the eye, she took them both, and slid them up to rest on the soft curves. I slid them in circles, feeling her nipples through the material, and bumped my middle fingers back and forth across them, feeling them swell almost instantly. As they hardened, her eyes closed halfway, and she leaned heavily against me. She moaned quietly, and pressed her luxurious ass against me. I nuzzled her neck, inhaling her perfume, and pressed my cock against her.
I had had a slight erection entering the elevator, and the combination of her perfume, and now her purposeful massaging of it with that soft ass had me hard in an instant.
"Mmmm, is that my fault?" She sighed, eyes still closed. Her ass continued to move in little circles. I held my breath, standing still, all sensory input now concentrated on the contact between us. She let out a little squeak, and I realized that I was pinching her nipples hard. I began to rub them, and she reached back and found my bulge, and squeezed it hard.
"Does that hurt?" she smiled.
