My youngest son moved to Portland a few years ago, he is a scuba diver and does not seem to mind the icy water. I own my own small company that makes gages and I have a few customers in the Northwest, so at least once a year I bump a salesman to make sales calls and visit my son and his family. His hoard has grown to four beautiful daughters and granddad doesn't fit in their small house any more during visits.
Luckily the Greenway Inn is not far away and I stay there. For my first two stays, I did not know that once a week it is the premier hangout for older professional singles. I begged off Wednesday night's dinner at my son's house and went shopping in the bar of the motel.
Truthfully, I expected very little, I'm sixty, tall and in good shape but my age usually puts me out of the running. I don't dress to show I'm successful because I discovered I'm easily spotted by single moms who are behind on their debts. I nursed my Michelob Ultra in a bottle, not cool to drink out of the bottle, not a trendy microbrew or a more sophisticated wine, and watched the lovelies dance. One darling loved to dance so much she was on the dance floor a lot, with and without a partner. Oddly enough, never with the man she was sitting with. They both wore wedding rings. He did not like to dance but watched over her as she danced with every man who asked. She was older than most there, maybe forty. I decided to risk receiving her first putdown of the night. She said "Yes" and I got to indulge my greatest delight, to touch and talk with a lovely woman.
Within ten seconds she had me. Her body danced submissively, following without effort, reading my moves and needing no verbal comments. No wonder she had been dancing almost every dance.
Our second dance was a safe fast one that offered little time for talk but she lingered against my body as I twirled her into me at the end of the song.
"I know I am keeping you from your date and all of your other suitors but dance with me one more time and I will quit pestering you tonight."
A slow song, more my style, started, as if, on my queue. I held my breath for the first few bars. Her body was soft, feminine and her outrageous pheromones captured my desire. She asked about me this time. I had discovered that her table partner was indeed her non-dancing, reserved, shy husband of twenty years. Together they and four boys and she had recently begun to push to feel life, freedom and fun. She was a strong woman and had her own company. With family and work, passion and life seemed to be slipping away with each year. I told her I was a widower, staying in the Greenway and traveled to see my son a few times a year from the warmer San Diego climate. When I said I love the weather there because I'm a BAMBI weekend warrior and ride an old softail Harley, her body melted into mine and she confessed to having a bike of her own but no riding partner.
For the rest of the long song we laughed, spun and she pressed her softness into a part of me that was showing too much interest. I danced her to the opposite part of the floor from her husband. As the song ended, she looked at me and I tilted her head and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Her eyes closed. I like that.
"Thank you for dancing with me and making my evening special. I wish we could get away for a couple of hours to get to know each other more. Better yet, I wish we could take off on a sunny day and ride until we got lost and have a picnic by a stream in the forest."
"I enjoyed dancing with you and talking also."
When I returned her to her table, she introduced me to Harold. He was unassertive and only casually acknowledged our meeting.
"Harold, I enjoyed meeting you and cannot thank you enough for allowing your wife to dance with me. I don't think I have ever enjoyed three dances so much." My hand had been resting on Donna's neck and teasing under her ears. She pressed back into my palm as I left.
About nine I was deciding to finish my beer and call it a night when Donna came up behind me.
"Harold is going to go check on our boys. The youngest one seemed to be sick tonight when we left. He asked if you will watch over me for a couple of hours?"
I twirled my imaginary handle-bar moustache and replied, ""Of course I will watch over you and protect you," said the spider to the fly."
I guided her toward the dance floor and asked, "Will you dance with me again?"
Donna had warned me that she can be an alpha personality, especially at work. "Yes, but I have never seen the rooms in this place. Maybe we can order room service and dance more privately there."
I turned back to the bartender, told him what I wanted sent to my room and tipped him a twenty. Donna's body was warmer in my arms for one more dance in the bar. As we walked down the hall, I asked, "What is your bike?"
Her eyes twinkled, "Only a Sportster 883 but I love it."
"It has the Harley sounds and vibrations."
"Oh, yes it does."
The Greenway had done a good job and our champagne, desert and coffee thermos was on a wheeled cart inside and the lighting was soft in the room. We found the good dance music channel on the television. I sat her down on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes and then stood and removed mine and my socks.
"I like to dance barefooted."
The heat in my body and the discomfort in my pants increased ten-fold when she held up her stockinged foot, wiggled her toes and said, "So do I."
I knelt in front of her as she stood, trapped between me and the bed. I kissed her through her skirt just above her pussy as my hands slowly slid up the outside of her legs, over her thighs and hips, clasping the top of her panty hose and panties. I pulled and she moved just right for them both to slip smoothly over her ass and hips. I wanted this to take a while so I let my hands wander over the bare skin of her belly and around to the long crevice that separated her lovely cheeks. When my hand pulled slowly again at the rolled up slippery clothing, my thumbs rubbed ever so briefly over her ovaries, down into her closely cropped hair, spread her, rubbed lightly above her hood and continued to tug gently. My hands were in heaven, rubbing between her thighs and around her legs to assure her confinements did not bind and promised freedom in a minute or two.
I scooted back two feet when her wrappings came free in my hands. I brought them to my face and inhaled her. Her eyes were locked on my lips when I kissed at the dampness that had seeped from her. She continued to watch when I lifted one of her feet and sucked at the middle tender toe. Now it was time to disappoint her, slow her and torture myself.
