The lush English countryside passed in a blur of yellow and green as the express train whizzed towards London. Sitting in a business class carriage near the front, Rachael Iverson shuffled her conference speech notes and rehearsed the talk again in her head. It was the millionth time she had read through her speech since she had departed a rainy Edinburgh that morning. She knew that MediaTrax 2018 would attract the biggest movers and shakers in the industry and being asked to deliver a speech on the future of social media was a major boon for her. She couldn't afford to fuck it up.
Her mobile started to buzz on the table in front of her. It was James, her husband, calling her for the third time that day. She doubted it was urgent, he'd probably misplaced the can-opener or something. If truth be told, she was looking forward to enjoying two nights away alone. The room service, movies and long hot baths were enough to make attending this conference worthwhile.
----
The lobby of the Kensington Palacio was bustling when Rachael arrived. The grandfather clock beside the reception desk was striking three as she fumbled in her laptop bag to retrieve her booking confirmation. She had a few hours to kill before the networking drinks that evening.
At 7pm, Rachael pinned her long blonde hair into a messy up-do and applied some red lipstick. She was wearing one of her favourite cocktail dresses, black lace with a high-neck and nipped-in waist. She knew she'd turn some heads tonight.
The bar was packed and, as expected, several people turned to look as she confidently swept past them and ordered a gin and tonic. She quickly scanned the room for familiar faces. Shit. Her stomach lurched. In the far left corner, surrounded by an adoring group of hangers-on, Rachael could see a familiar figure. Frankie.
She quickly turned back towards the bar and pretended to scroll through her phone as she tried to figure out her next move. Her hands were shaking as she raised her glass to her lips and took a big gulp. She hadn't seen Francesca Halliday since college. She'd followed her career online, of course, but it was almost a decade since Rachael had seen her in the flesh, or touched that flesh for that matter.
Nowadays, Frankie headed up one of the biggest digital media agencies in Britain and was, by all accounts, a multi-millionaire. They had fooled around once-upon-a-time, before James, when Rachel had been experimenting at university. Her pussy tightened as she thought back to the lazy days they'd spent in student accommodation, eating pizza, watching movies and fucking each other's brains out several times a day. No one had ever eaten her pussy the way Frankie had. She shuddered and forced herself to think of her husband. That was all in the past. She was straight now, and married.
"Rachael?" A hand lightly tapped her shoulder.
She spun around and suddenly found herself face-to-face with Frankie. The years had been kind to her, she looked just as good now as she had at nineteen, better even. Her short, brown hair was cropped close to her head and she had an olive complexion that told of exotic holidays in the sun. She had on a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accessorised by a chunky Rolex. Rachael could see the edge of a tattoo just below her collarbone. She wasn't wearing a bra, but then she never did.
"Frankie," Rachael exclaimed, doing her best to act surprised. She placed her drink down and leant in to kiss her cheek. "Oh my god, it's so good to see you."
"You look incredible," Frankie said, purposefully taking a step back to admire her. "What is it? Ten years?"
Rachael nodded, doing her best to stay cool and composed. "Stop it! Don't make me feel old."
Frankie laughed politely. "Are you..." Her voice trailed off as she gestured towards everyone around them.
"Part of the conference? Yep, yes, sure am. I'm speaking tomorrow. Future of social media at 11am." She realised that she was talking too quickly now.
Frankie nodded and flashed her a sexy side-smile. "I'll be there. Front row."
They had caught the attention of Frankie's friends who were now hovering a few feet away.
"Listen, I've got to do some schmoozing now, but I'd really like to catch up," she said, pulling a business card and a pen out of her breast pocket. "This is my room number."
"Oh. Erm, maybe we should just catch up tomorrow for coffee," Rachael said, holding up her hand to display the expensive-looking rings that adorned her ring finger.
Frankie ran a hand through her hair and let out a laugh, amused. Rachael instantly felt stupid.
"Calm down," Frankie chuckled, leaning in close so only Rachael could hear her. "I'm not trying to fuck you," she whispered gently, her breath warm against Rachael's neck.
Rachael nodded, stuffing the card into her clutch.
"I just get hassled in group situations like this, I'd rather talk with you alone. We can just have a drink, catch up, talk about the uni days. Nothing funny, honestly."
"Course," Rachael smiled, felling like an idiot.
"I'll be back at my room in an hour. Oh, tell me one thing," Frankie said, an unmistakable glint in her eye. "Your partner... it is a he or a she?"
"He. Husband," Rachael replied, a little too quickly.
Frankie let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. She let her hand rest for a few seconds in the small of Rachael's back before disappearing through the crowd.
----
Rachael kicked her heels off and sat on the edge of her bed, turning Frankie's business card over and over in her hands. The flimsy piece of paper felt like it was fashioned from lead. She was a married woman now, the 'Frankie days' felt like a lifetime ago. So why did she feel so unsettled? Her pussy ached as she thought back to that time. She slipped her panties to the side and ran a finger down her slit. Just the thought of the things they used to do was making her wet. She mentally kicked herself. She had to get it together, she had responsibilities now. She'd said her vows, promised to be with James until death did them part. She wasn't a fucking kid anymore.
-----
Frankie opened the door a few seconds after Rachael knocked. She'd changed into sweat pants and a black t-shirt that exposed her sleeve tattoo.
"Hey. You came," She said, smiling as she stepped aside and allowed Rachael to enter the room. Or the penthouse... as Rachael had discovered when she'd asked the receptionist for directions.
"I can't stay," Rachael said, hovering in the doorway. "I just didn't want to be rude. I've got a big day tomorrow and I to get a good night's sleep."
The room was spectacular, wall-to-wall windows overlooking Tower Bridge. The lights of London twinkled like an urban galaxy below them. Frankie paused and locked eyes with her. She dug her hands into her pockets of her pants and shrugged apologetically.
"You've got to do what you've got to do," Frankie replied. "Maybe we'll catch up before it's all over."
"Hopefully," Rachael said, leaning in to peck her on the cheek before disappearing back to her room.
---
Rachael let the door slam shut behind her and quickly slipped out of her dress. She sat down on the carpet, leaning against the foot of the bed and examining herself in the full-length mirror opposite. She undid her bra cupped her breasts, imagining Frankie's hands instead. She pulled her thong to one side, letting the damp fabric slide between her fingers.
Gently, Rachael put two fingers into her pussy, watching herself in the mirror as she withdrew them and spread the juice over her lips and clit. She writhed with pleasure.
