It was relatively early on a Tuesday morning -- about 7:50 according to the digital clock in the room, although the accuracy of those was always questionable. Patrick had just settled in to his room service breakfast of an omelette and toast at the desk/table that faced the small balcony of his hotel room. The sun was streaming in brightly and the air was noticeably warmer on this early spring day in Houston than it would have been back home in Cleveland, so the sliding door was opened widely.
It was his fifth week on the project. A management consultant, he was on a six month engagement with a mid-sized regional petrochemical firm that was troubled with an out-of-control supply chain. Patrick had the typical consultant's workweek: on site Monday morning through late afternoon Thursday. So far he was reasonably satisfied with the accommodations at the Hyatt that had become home three nights a week.
A movement in one of the windows across the courtyard caught his eye. The hotel consisted of a trio of mid-rise buildings situated around a more or less triangular courtyard overlooking the outside pool. It wasn't a particularly large space – downtown real estate is expensive everywhere – and although the angles provided a bit more privacy than parallel buildings facing one another, there was a pretty clear view between windows on the same floors.
In this case what had attracted Patrick's eye was a brief glimpse of skin, along with a flash of blonde hair. Like any normal red-blooded male, he found his attention lingering on the window to see what could be seen. It wasn't long before his patience was rewarded.
A woman returned to the living room carrying a blouse in her hand. He noted immediately that she was very attractive, with light blonde hair that hung fairly straight, just below her shoulders. She was wearing business slacks – gray with a light pinstripe – and a peach colored bra. She set the blouse on an ironing board he could see standing just inside the balcony doors.
Patrick had always been something of a boob-man, so he noted approvingly that based on her proportions and a moderate amount of visible jiggle she was all natural, about a 36C or so. She was both tall, probably in the 5'8" range, and fit, with a relatively flat stomach. All in all, a very nice view to enjoy over breakfast. Although there was nothing particularly sexy about her bra, which was a simple full cup cotton garment, it was nonetheless extremely erotic for him to observe her going through her morning preparations. He also noticed in passing the occasional glint of light flashing from her left hand that suggested she was either engaged or married, and got a fleeting sense of excitement realizing that he was seeing "someone else's woman" in a partially undressed state, even if less was revealed than by a typical bikini.
He watched her for a couple of minutes as she came in and out of view, apparently applying makeup in an out-of-sight bathroom, retrieving something from the living room, brushing her hair while seated on the edge of the bed, and so on. Inevitably there came a moment when she looked out her own window and noticed him sitting in his own window across the way. And inevitably following that discovery and the meeting of their eyes, came the moment where she looked down at her scantly clad chest, and then looked back up at him.
Patrick briefly considered a cheesy, quick aversion of the eyes. The cowardly escape that, when caught checking out a woman, tries to communicate, "I wasn't looking at you. Sure, I happened to glance, but I didn't really see anything. I'm not a pervert or anything." But in a split second he told himself, "Fuck it. You're caught. Might as well own up to it."
As it was, she made it easy for him. As their eyes met again she smiled brightly at him and started ironing. Although she didn't make direct eye contact again, neither did she close her drapes or put on any other clothing.
Patrick spent the next five minutes in utter bliss, no longer constrained by any need to hide his observation, as he watched the beautiful blonde casually iron her blouse while her ripe breasts swayed seductively. Unfortunately when she finished and picked up the top, sliding it around her arms and buttoning it slowly, she turned away and vanished from sight, not to return. Another glance at the dubious reading of the clock warned him that it was time to do his own disappearing act.
**********
That day he had a hard time getting her out of his mind. Although he traveled frequently, he had really never had a similar encounter. Of course a few times he had heard people having sex in neighboring rooms – and more frequently the sound of pay-per-view porn on the televisions – but never had he seen someone nude or in a compromising position through their window. Although business travel is different, he conceded mentally, and rather unlike the more free-spirited environments of resorts and vacation hotels.
Still, when the day ended and it was time for him to think about dinner, there was no question of his decision. Tonight would definitely be an eating-in evening. He returned to the hotel around 7:30 PM. To his disappointment, the window across the courtyard was not lit, and he settled in to a room service over email at his computer. Perhaps she checked out this morning, he considered, resigning himself to the probability that the brief encounter was a one-time event. He sighed out loud, deciding that tonight it might be his room from which the sounds of the rented adult movie emanated, probably followed by a quick masturbation fantasizing about the woman.
About an hour later, he looked up from the laptop's screen to see that the room was now brightly lit. A shadow on the floor preceded her appearance, and the she was on the balcony, wearing the same gray slacks and a matching blazer. She smiled again when she saw him framed in his own window, and then he saw her making a poking gesture with her right hand and saw her lips moving. After a moment he realized that she was counting windows from right to left along his building.
She disappeared from view into her room as a note of panic started creeping in to his heart. Was she calling the police? Hotel management? Maybe she was going to report him for spying on her or something – although the rational part of his brain told him that those who dress in front of open windows don't have much basis to complain if someone gets an eyeful.
A few moments later, she returned to the balcony with a slight frown on her face. She repeated the counting and then disappeared once again. Moments later he was startled by the ring of his telephone. The hotel room telephone, that was, not his cell phone. Aside from wake-up calls, his phone had never rung.
He answered it with a typical "Hello?". For a moment there was no response, and so he repeated the greeting. Then he saw the blonde step into view holding the base of her telephone in one hand, and with the receiver pressed to her ear. She glanced over to confirm that he had his own phone in hand, and then spoke.
"So," she began, in a pleasant, confident tone that was marked by a gentle Southern accent, "Did you enjoy watching me get dressed this morning?"
Patrick was stunned. At most he had hoped for another glimpse of this sexy creature in her lingerie, or perhaps if he was extremely lucky, completely topless. Clearly things had escalated already to a level he had not anticipated. But the lady was waiting for a response.
"Very much," he replied honestly. "I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything, but once you caught my eye...well, I just didn't want to look away."
"So you liked my tits then?" she pressed teasingly.
Patrick nodded at first, then realized verbal communication was required. "Well, I have to say they looked wonderful from here, although it's not quite like I saw you nude or anything." At that, her bemused smile reappeared.
"Meet me in the lounge in ten minutes," she breathed, and broke the connection.
**********
She hadn't phrased it as a question, but neither had it felt like an order. More like an invitation whose acceptance was in no doubt, he decided. And it wasn't, really. Although in his early thirties, he had been around the block enough times not to automatically assume that it meant anything in particular – like getting laid tonight, which hope he forced himself to repeatedly slap down – he was very intrigued by her intentions. This was certainly no shy, demure Southern belle he was dealing with.
Surprisingly, although he only took a few minutes to brush his teeth and run a hand through his relatively thick, dark hair a couple of times, she was already sitting in a curved booth facing the entrance when he arrived. She was smoking a cigarette and had one eye on the door, waving discreetly as he entered. He made his way through the sparsely populated room and slid in to the seat more or less across from her. Moments later a waitress appeared bearing two glasses on a tray.
"I ordered dirty vodka martinis," she explained as the waitress placed the glasses. "I hope that's all right."
He assured her that it was just fine, fighting to avoid becoming orally fixated as she drew on the white filter of her cigarette and exhaled slowly, then popped an olive in between her dark red lips and chewed slowly. For a moment there was silence between them.
"So does my admirer have a name," she finally inquired, "Or do you prefer to remain anonymous?"
Patrick introduced himself with a grin, shaking her hand. He noted that she had quite a good handshake, firm and confident. It just supported the impression he had already been developing of her.
"I'm Katherine," she said. "What do you do for work that brings you to Houston?"
"I'm a consultant, based out of Cleveland."
She nodded. "Big Four?"
"Yep," he replied. "On a project here for the next few months. How about you – you don't sound like you're as far from home as me?"
"Atlanta, born and raised. I'm a lawyer. My company is working on some real estate acquisitions here and I'm part of the advance team."
"Well, I'm sure glad I spotted you this morning," he noted playfully. The pink elephant wasn't going to wait all night to be acknowledged.
