Chapter 02: Should You Have Sex With Your Client? Your Client's Friend?
This was great. I hated to spend dinners alone when I was traveling, particularly in hotel dining rooms. Because of this I often ended with a burger served up by room service and a beer or wine from the mini-bar. Instead the good-looking woman that had just become my client had invited herself to dinner with me at my hotel. She'd told me to order her a wine and that she'd meet me in half an hour.
Thirty minutes later, I'd secured a corner table in the lobby bar, a bowl of munchies (of which I'd eaten a third), and my Chardonnay and her Merlot when Grace appeared at the entrance. I hailed her with a hearty wave. She came across the room with a deliberate stride.
I paid more careful attention to her than I had earlier today. She'd been an executive at the table then, but now she was also a social companion. I had to be careful in balancing those roles.
Grace was probably five years older than I was -- late thirties I guessed. She had short, cropped brunette hair around her angular face. She had dark grey eyes that were actually sort of sexy. She was a sharp dresser and had a reasonably trim form, but her "suit" didn't reveal too much except shapely calves and slender ankles. She walked right up to me, giving me a brief kiss on the cheek. I was pleased but the kiss scrambled my brain about what kind of a working relationship we were forging suddenly.
"Since we parted I have had a nightmare of a day. You and this wine are breaths of fresh air in my life. Thank you for this." She took a generous sip of the wine, gave me a devilish look and said, "Be sure you bill this to your client." We both laughed and I assured her I intended to. She put her hand on my arm in an appreciative gesture. I rather liked the touch for it was both sexy and intimate.
We chatted over our wines and I ate another third of the munchies from the bowl the waitress had left earlier. I'd reserved a table in the main dining room; however, probably due to the storm raging outside, the place was mostly empty. As our reservation time arrived, we carried our second glasses of wine into the dining room and sat where we could appreciate the melodies that a very talented piano player was creating to entertain the diners.
Dinner went by in a rush. Our conversation flowed smoothly over all sorts of topics. She even asked about my girlfriends and I learned she'd been divorced for the past ten years and had had no children. She admitted she'd been a little gun shy of forging a new serious new relationship unless it was really untraditional in some way.
We sat and talked ... and talked ... and talked. And then the maitre d' was standing beside the table, "Mr. Rogers, we are most appreciative you and your guest joined us tonight for dinner. We would like to invite you to a table we have prepared for you in our lounge as well as complementary drinks. We are closing the dining room early this evening. The storm has gotten significantly worse and I wish to send the musician and the rest of the staff home early, before the roads become blocked more than they already are."
We were more than finished. I signed the tab and we walked down the hallway towards the lounge. Crashes of thunder and lightning punctuated the night. Often the lights in the hotel dimmed and flickered. The lounge had a large window that looked over Brush Creek. The waiter that came to get our drink order explained that the Creek was usually almost dry. We could see that the small stream was a nearly full, raging torrent of water surging towards the Missouri River. Unless the rain stopped, the Creek would be over its banks in minutes.
We got some cognacs and sat next to each other on a small sofa watching the storm rage outside. The lounge lights were sufficiently dim that we could see a lot through the raindrop splattered window. A television near the bar was on the news channel that seems to be talking exclusively about the weather and road closures and flooding.
Grace had been holding my arm since we walked out of the dining room and ever since we sat down. Now she turned to me and kissed me, tenderly at first but then with significant passion. My brain went into jumble mode again and a million conflicting thoughts went through my head. One thing for certain, I kissed her back with just as much passion as she was dealing.
I picked up my Grand Marnier and took a sip then turned to kiss her again. Her eyes were nearly shut as our lips came together. I thrust my tongue into Grace's mouth and she opened to accept my offering. Then, much to her surprise and amazement, I jetted the small amount of the fiery orange liqueur I'd sipped into her mouth as I moved my tongue around.
Grace let out a long, low moan. Her eyes had flown open as I'd delivered the fluid and now they watched me, somewhat in amazement. "Oh, you are some kind of lover," she told me with a smile. "I'll give you all night to stop that." With that, she was into kissing me even more. She stopped at one point and said, "You turn me on ... big time!"
I was wondering where all this was going when there was a huge clap of thunder and a lightning bolt right outside the lounge window next to us. We both jumped about a foot into the air.
Grace got up and went to watch the bar television at that point. I carried our drinks over and joined her standing in the middle of the deserted bar. The television announcers were reporting on closed roadways and the damage done by three small tornadoes that had already touched down as the storm raged across Kansas. Grace finally groaned when one area of the City was shown as virtually closed. She pointed; "That's where I live. I can't get home tonight."
I had my arm around her in a casual, yet professional manner. She turned and kissed me hotly again. "I think I'm yours for the night, mister," Grace said setting her empty liqueur glass on the bar with a determined clink. "Show me the view from your room." She took my arm and started walking me towards the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby.
I gulped as we started walking. "Errrrr, OK," I said slowly. This just didn't seem right. I'd already told her about Emily and actually referred to her as my girlfriend. I'd mentioned I also had someone else close in my life too, thinking of Pam. Somehow, I guess that wasn't making any difference to Grace. The other thing that kept running through my head was that if I messed this up I was going to lose this huge consulting job I just sold earlier today. One of my colleagues told me his rule was 'never sleep with the client.'
We got on one of the elevators. As soon as the doors closed, Grace plastered herself against me, held my face in her hands, and jammed her tongue down my throat. Wow! This woman was passionate and had something most definitely on her mind. I was just horny enough that my memory of my weekend with Emily and my interlude with Pam only the day before were fast fading from memory. I thought briefly that it had to do with blood rushing from my head to my cock. The latter was starting to inflate rather rapidly as Grace rubbed her lithe body against me.
