A few years ago, I was coming back from Europe on points, and my flight to New York was re-routed to Atlanta to a nasty storm front in the Northeast. As a result, I had an unplanned five-hour layover. I was a little perturbed, but surprisingly, Delta offered all the passengers rooms at the Atlanta Airport Marriott. There wasn't enough time to go tour the city. I figured I'd make the best of it.
I dropped my bags in room 2249, hopped in the shower, changed into a new dress, and headed down to the Voya Bistro for a drink. It was 2:30 in the afternoon and the place was virtually deserted. I noticed a tall, voluptuous black woman in her early 50's with full lips, big hoop earrings and brightly colored fingernails, wearing a figure-hugging white pantsuit with red pinstripes, sitting at a corner table with her book and a glass of red wine. She made eye contact with me and smiled, and I returned her smile.
The waiter ushered me over to another nearby table and brought me a menu. A moment later, the woman put down her book, got up and strode over to my table, hips swaying.
"Excuse me, I certainly hope this isn't too forward, but you seem to be all by your lonesome, and I'm getting a little lonely at my table. Would you care to join me for a glass of Merlot or your favorite beverage?"
"Why, I'd be delighted," I said. "I'm stranded for a few hours en route back to Seattle. Are you from here?"
"Oh my, a Seattle gal!" she exclaimed. "I love it up there. Well, I certainly am from Atlanta. Born and bred. Here today for business. Come on over. What's your name?"
I told her and her smile broadened. "I had a little girlfriend by that very name back in high school. My name is Tabitha."
We sat down together and our calves brushed. She didn't move away and I felt the hot thrill of contact run right up my leg to my always-ready cunt.
As you know, I'm very, very tactile and love being touched – by the right man (or men), by a like-minded woman, by a total stranger. This layover was starting off well.
I glanced at the thick paperback on the table: Pure Power: A New Age of Female Joy by Tabitha Brown.
"What kind of business are you engaged in, Tabitha?"
"I lead personal development seminars for African-American women over 50," she explained. "I'm a life coach and speaker. Business, thank God, is booming! Us boomer ladies are on the rise."
"I'm right there with you, honey. Have you written many books?"
"This is my third one. And you know what? I just so happen to have a spare copy that is earmarked for YOU."
She reached into her big, black leather handbag and pulled it out.
The waiter came out of the kitchen and looked confused because I wasn't at my original table. Then he spotted me sitting with Tabitha.
"Over here, dearie," Tabitha called. "She's with me now."
"No, she's with me," I said, sticking my tongue out just a little bit.
Tabitha pulled out a surprisingly thick gold pen and autographed the book with the inscription: "To the very sweetest thing I have seen at the Atlanta airport!"
"Why, thank you," I said, feeling flushed with excitement. I rubbed my leg against hers and she shifted her chair closer to mine.
"So what do you do?" she asked.
"Health care," I said. "I'm very good at what I do."
"Can I take your order?" the waiter asked.
"I want what she's got," I said brashly.
"Merlot, 9-ounce glass, coming right up," the waiter said.
Tabitha placed her hand on mine. "So sugar, where are you coming from?"
"I spent a northern week in Italy," I said. "Cooking classes in Tuscany, the Uffizi in Florence, a fashion show in Milan. It was a lovely getaway."
"Oh my Lord!" Tabitha said. "That is the travel equivalent of an orgasm, if you do pardon my vulgarity."