Altruistic Intentions

[This is the first of a two-part story.]

About a year before COVID, Mike and Kathleen had been struggling. Job demands. Taking each other for granted. Routines. Nothing that stood out. The slide was incremental, but the slide was undeniable. Six years of marriage. Career pursuits. It was bound to happen.

Then, like most others they knew, COVID reshuffled the deck and left them holding a hand that was certainly less than a full house. More job demands. More travel away from home. New routines that served to wedge them further apart. There was no animosity between them; just a steady cooling of passion that left them both feeling confused.

Mike thought about bringing up counseling, but that seemed like such a stretch to him. They were not in trouble. Just in a slump. Besides, Kathleen would not be comfortable with that idea. Such things as sexual intimacy were private; she would not be comfortable talking to a stranger, even a therapist, about such things.

Kathleen felt the drifting, but lived in denial. She was never one to rock the boat. They were fine. Everyone is under stress. They were no different. This was normal.

Then, two events, occurring within a span of three days, changed their course. Specifically, two events that Mike experienced. The first was not all that out of the ordinary; it was the level of temptation he felt which shocked him. He was traveling. It was the night before returning home. He had wrapped up his assignment early enough to get back to the hotel and relax before the following morning flight home.

There was a fork in the road.

He could hang out in his room and check in with Kathleen and chat with her for a while on the phone. It was about 5pm for him there in San Diego, making it about 8pm back home. She would probably still be awake. He actually had the phone in his hand as he weighed his options.

He decided to tap out a text, letting her know that he still planned to leave early the next morning and she could expect him home tomorrow evening. He stepped out on the balcony of his hotel room, looking down at the flow of the Friday night traffic 20 stories below. The temperature was a perfect 70 degrees with a light breeze. Even from 20 stories up, there was plenty of foot traffic to admire as it crossed directly in front of the hotel. There was a local public transit station. There was the Convention Center. There was Petco Park, lights already flooding the predusk ballpark in preparation for that night's baseball game.

Kathleen tapped back a simple reply.

OK. See you tomorrow. Love you.

Mike glanced at his phone. The text message and the time merged into one simple thought -- he had a little time to kill.

He returned his gaze down at the entertainment below. The soft echoes of the buzz of social activity drifted upward. The hum of transportation filled the air. The aromas floated in the air of some fine dining establishments doing their best to attract customers.

And the people. There were a few that seemed to especially be on display. Even from 20 stories up he could tell. He could see. Young men and women arriving for a night on the town. Some in casual attire, others decked out. Even from 20 stories up, one can admire that overhead view of cleavage.

He could have stood there, but for some reason, he decided the fresh air 20 stories high was not enough. Perhaps a stroll along those delicious streets would be good for his spirit. Perhaps it would propel him home with a newfound sense of enlightenment and spark of passion.

He never made it past the lobby.

Brenda was her name. She was about three minutes from finishing her shift at the front desk. During his stay, she had been a breath of fresh air to Michael, having helped him with a couple of check-in issues that led to a room upgrade and a few subsequent, polite, warm interactions in the two days that followed during his stay.

Although she was clearly at least ten years younger, early 20's he guessed, Michael discovered that she had a gift for conversation and a feel for people. But she possessed additional assets that made her a pleasure to spend time around. Her youthful spirit, her positive attitude, and a body that was no doubt sorely missed by her recently declared ex-boyfriend.

She not only was a blonde, Michael's favorite, but she was far from the dumb blonde. She was educated, working on her Master's in Business Management. Her hotel uniform top strained at the buttons, revealing that her breasts were tightly restrained. Michael's guess was a c-cup... 38d was the reality. That her breasts outsized her slender frame was not lost even in the uniform. The slacks hugged her ass. She was definitely a gifted young lady.

As her shift ended, they crossed paths. She was leaving the front desk, Michael headed to the front entrance. She waved. He smiled. They chatted. He put off his stroll. She put off her plans to head home. It was not so much flirting as it was wrapping up a few days of a good business-customer experience. He thanked her. She said anytime. He said he would put in a good word on her behalf to her supervisor. She smiled and thanked him. And then...

"Do you have a ride to the airport in the morning?"

Michael laughed. "Yep - my driver, Mr. Uber will be here promptly at 6am."

Brenda giggled, "I know him!"

Michael looked into those blue eyes and felt that tinge... that warning that perhaps he was getting too close... but he leaned in and dared to go further. "Do you recommend him, or should I consider a different source of transportation?"

Brenda smiled... paused... took a little breath... then with the slightest of a giggle mixed with a hint of a flirty tone she replied, "Well, perhaps it is not my place to interfere."

Michael blurted, "Please - interfere."

They both laughed.

"Well," those blue eyes sparkling, "my shift starts at 7am tomorrow morning..."

The words hung in the air. She continued.

"...and I sometimes enjoy getting here early on Saturday mornings to just be there for people - it is a stressful time sometimes."

Michael listened and felt temptation knocking. "And if I were stressed?"

Again they both laughed.

He dared to probe further. "Your service this week has been greatly appreciated. I suppose one last act would fit the bill."

Brenda glanced around. As she sat there in her uniform, she felt a little uncomfortable. Not only was her body the target of the eyes of random strangers, but there were her coworkers who were aware of her presence. She did not want to be noticed as over-chatting with a hotel guest. "Can we go for a walk?"

"A walk?" Michael repeated, trying to cover his surprise.

"Yeah. A walk. You know, when you like, move your legs along a sidewalk."

Again, they both laughed.

Michael stood, swept his hand in a grand, playful gesture ushering her towards the main entrance. "This way, my dear."

It was a walk he knew was probably out of bounds. Harmless on the surface, but dangerous in its potential. But the conversation was fun and electric and playful and free-flowing and inspirational and... well just about everything that he felt slipping away back home with Kathleen. It took about two minutes for the next hour to pass as they circled back to the hotel. As they approached the fork in the road that led to the parking structure where Brenda was parked and the concourse that led to the main entrance of the hotel, they stopped.

"Well," Michael said.

"Yes. Well..." Brenda echoed.

And then suddenly all the free-flowing dialogue and unspoken chemistry between them merged into a silent moment that was just crazy arousing.

Brenda waited on this sweet, married man to make a move.

Michael tried his best to fight off this moment of temptation.

She knew.

He knew.

"You want to see a secret entrance around the back of the hotel under the poolside terrace?" Her question was barely past her lips when Michael almost cut her off and instantly replied.

"Yes."

As they walked around the side of the hotel, a long circular path that took a winding trail through a lush garden tinkling with the sounds of fountains, he felt their shoulders brush as they walked side by side. His heart was racing. So was hers. As they approached the entrance shrouded under a private archway, Michael saw the entrance. He reached in his pocket.

"Your phone?" Brenda asked.

"My phone?" Mike echoed quizzically.

"Not a good idea. Probably better the digital footprint see my credentials rather than yours back here."

Brenda waved her phone and the door unlocked. She smiled as Michael pulled the door open for her. "Follow me," she said. And follow he did. The hallway was narrow, so he had to follow... no room to walk side by side. Plenty of good lighting to allow his eyes to once again, admire the fit of her uniform slacks and the firm curves of her ass.

"You are going to love this," she cooed as they made their way down the narrow hallway. He was already loving this. Then they arrived at service elevator. "Ready?"

"Mm hmm," Michael said, clueless as to what he was ready for. He was feeling his moral compass spinning. The elevator doors opened. He stepped onto the elevator at Brenda's side. She pushed the red

button.

"If anyone sees you with me here, just act like you are a guest getting a tour."

"I am a guest getting a tour," Michael slyly replied.

They both laughed... nervously.

The elevator finally arrived... at the rooftop level. The doors opened and Brenda's eyes gauged Michael's initial response as the amazing rooftop view of the bay and ocean was instantly revealed to him.

"WOW." Michael's draw dropped as he flinched at the scenic surprise.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Brenda was beaming.

The sun was moments from slipping behind the dark blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. The sky was burnt with an array of colors spanning red and orange and yellow and purple. Brenda had seen this view more times than she could remember, and it never got old. She smiled as she drank in the view. Michael, also drank in the view, in fact two views; that amazing, ocean-view sunset; that amazing body. From his vantage point, her body was backlit by the setting sun. Her shoulder-length hair flittering in the coastal breeze. He dare to position himself so that the silhouetted profile of her sweet face and full breasts were in plain view.

So when Michael replied, "Yes, very beautiful," Brenda felt the vibe.

They stood on their perch on the rooftop and watched the sun sink beyond the lip of the ocean and the city lights slowly come to life. Again, it seemed like a mere few moments had passed as they chatted away when Michael glanced at his phone. Brenda asked, "What time is it?"

"Wow... it's almost nine. You probably need to get going. And I haven't even packed yet."

The walk from the rooftop to the service elevator followed by the ride down to the 20th floor was a lingering farewell. They reckoned with the reality that they were saying goodbye. Each step closer to suite 2021 felt more and more heavy. Arriving at the door, Brenda tried to sound innocent as she asked, "You don't have a luggage cart?"

Mike feigned his best act of chagrin at such an oversight.

"No worries, I know where we keep a secret stash right around the corner. I'll be right back." Michael watched Brenda walk away, down the hallway, the temptation pounding in his heart, throbbing in his dick, as he admired her ass wiggling away step by step.

As she disappeared around the corner, he thought to himself, "What the fuck am I thinking? This is not right." Before the soft rumble of the luggage cart wheels could be heard on the carpet, before Brenda came back around the corner, Michael's conscience was gaining ground. He let the door shut behind him so that he was standing there waiting, politely.

As Brenda approached, her smile almost made his knees buckle as she chirped, "See, right here, just what you need."

For a moment, he managed to muster up a sweet comment in a half-hearted attempt at bringing closure to their encounter. But those eyes. That giggle. The warmth. That body.

Brenda felt the tension. She was ready to count her blessings - it had a been a wonderful evening spent together - and accept what had been as all that would be.

Michael felt the temptation. He was making every effort to remind himself that he was a married man, and this pleasant diversion was just that up to this point; a diversion, nothing more.

She was ready to walk away. He was ready to say goodbye. When the rumble of another luggage cart curled from around the corner.

They both panicked. For Brenda, she was spooked by the thought of what if it was an employee who knew her...saw her... there... at that time... alone with a guest. For Michael it was the irrational fear that it might be the client he had just closed the deal on, but could lose with a foolish, last-minute, misunderstanding.

There were no words spoken. Just the quick opening of suite number 2021 and the two of them quickly stepping inside to hide. The tense moment as the door shut behind them was seconds later punctuated by Michael's realization. "Oh fuck, the luggage cart!"

Brenda peeked out the peephole searching for the identity of who was approaching. She exhaled and whispered, "Nobody I know." She stepped back to let Michael look.

"Me either."

Guilt hung in the air. Michael actually opened the door to just grab the luggage cart as a way to try to avoid reckoning with the reality of the moment. As he reached out to grab the cart, Brenda mistook his actions as his guilt-ridden, unspoken, polite invitation for her to leave. As he pulled the cart through the doorway, she dodged it and nearly doubled back to keep from getting run over.

Again, so close.

"I am SO sorry," Michael said as he realized his impulsive action had nearly rammed the cart right over Brenda. "Are you okay?"

Through a forced smile she replied, "Yeah, not my first luggage cart encounter."

After an awkward pause, Michael said, "Brenda..."

She stood there. "Michael?"

He looked her straight in the eye. "Hear me out. I want you to stay. You have to leave. I don't want you to leave. Can we, can you... stay and chat for a bit longer?"

Brenda was so struck by Michael's sincerity. She had fought off the advances of countless men, and a few women, through the years. This was SO refreshing to have such a sweet, good man show her such respectful attention. She felt the vibe between them, but felt even more so the gentleman like way about him.

Michael was so struck by Brenda's sweetness. She wore that uniform unlike anyone else. That body. Those eyes. That giggle. He could not believe how these few hours spent together had drilled down deep to where he and Kathleen had used to roam. He was parched for such fellowship... Brenda was a summer storm.

Like a pendulum swinging back and forth, they alternated over the next two hours between "we should say goodbye now" and "just a few more minutes." They stood on the balcony chatting, together taking in the sights and sounds of the festive mood of the Gas Lamp District below. Parties were ending. Bars were closing. In just a few short hours, he would be checking out... her shift would be starting... they would never see each other again.

Each passing minute made it increasingly unlikely that she was going to leave. There were five buttons on her uniform top. That quick scamper inside the door, having left the cart just outside the door, was when the first button had been popped free. The first moments on the balcony is when the second button had been delicately loosened. And now, as the stations of the night transitioned to the wee hours of the morning, that third button. Cleavage. Whispers. Melting to temptation.

By the time the last button was nervously unbuttoned, there were kisses, and touches, and soft sighs that confirmed the connection of two aching hearts. A married heart aching for intimacy. A single broken heart on the rebound.

To their credit, they did not do what they both tried so hard to find justification to support. They certainly went too far. They spent the night alone in his hotel room. Their hands had wandered. Their kisses had lingered. She had dared to nuzzle against him, wearing only her bra and slacks. He had welcomed her fingertips brushing along the bare flesh of his chest.

It was a battle. There were casualties.

Ironically, as they pushed that luggage cart down the hallway to the elevator, he was on his way to meet up with Mr. Uber and she was headed to the secret, rear entrance. A night to remember, as hard as Michael would try to forget.

---------------------

The moment he arrived home, Kathleen was caught off-guard by his passionate embrace. He wanted to pick up with Kathleen where he had left off with Brenda. This was the right place. The right woman. His wife. The right time. Although she was not really in the mood, the initial "homecoming" moment made her pliable in his hands.

As they stood there, luggage at their feet, Michael refused to let go. His kisses were full-mouthed explorations, as if he could find the secrets of their lost passions and intimacies buried somewhere deep down her throat. His hands wandered over her body. She was wearing her comfy, "at-home-only" shorts and Disney-tee... braless... as he fondled her heavy, married 38d breasts. She was caught up in the rush of this sudden passion. She began to grind against him. Their feet began to scoot in sync as he back her against the wall.

"Michael... not here," she moaned.

But he was clutching to the hope of something more passionate than routine sex in their marriage bed. He countered, "Yes... Here... Now." As he slithered a hand down from her breast in an attempt to worm his thumb between her flesh and the elastic band of her shorts, she instinctively played defense.

"Michael... let's go to the bedroom."

His hand was unrelenting, communicating his insistence. He pushed her shorts lower as her hand gave up the resistance. He felt her wilt. She was giving in, but not getting into it.

Five minutes later, it was over. It was as if all his pent up hopes generated on the flight home that desperately sought to counterbalance his guilt of those precious few, guilt-ridden hours with Brenda, those hopes plunged over the cliff of what was. It was almost repulsive to him. Kathleen tugging him by the hand to lead him to their bedroom. Her shorts puddled at her ankles. Her pussy laid bare to his dick poking out of his jeans. Her tits jiggling under her tee. The sounds of their feet scuffing along the passion-draining march to the bedroom.

They fucked. She showered. He fell asleep.

The very next day, the second event was triggered and set into motion.