As she slipped her delicate feet into the pair of sandals Pam wondered to herself what she was doing, where her mind was at. The question continued to nag at her as she reached for the door knob and stepped from the motel room.
Her heart leaped inside her chest.
There he was. Sitting outside his room. He'd pulled one of the chairs from inside to take advantage of the warm sunshine while reading the paper. He sat wearing only a pair of jeans, his strong torso partially hidden by the paper he held, his wide shoulders displayed above it, across them his long hair was draped. He'd heard her come outside and was looking up at her, his bright eyes sparkling from within the rough and confident features of his face, most of which were covered by days worth of stubble.
"Morn'," he smiled at her.
Pam's voice caught in her throat for a second while she pulled the door closed and stepped away from its opening toward him.
"Uuhhh- Hi," she managed to stumble finally.
"Beautiful day," he announced.
Her conscience didn't recognize his words and so she remained silent, frozen momentarily. She was staring at him, her soft green eyes flowing over his face and shoulders, her heart beating rapidly. Just looking at him she could feel her desires being awoken, a hunger starting.
Suddenly her mind raced through the events of the last couple days which had brought her to this point.
Her and her husband had come to town on a working get-away, his company having sent him here to try helping the local office work through some problems. Pam, newly unemployed due to the economy, had tagged along for a much needed stress relieving vacation. The day after they'd checked into their motel the man she was presently staring at had checked into the room next to theirs. Her very first sight of him had ignited the kindlings of arousal within Pam's loins.
He was tall, powerful and rough looking. He rode a motorcycle and wore leather. He had strong arms and long hair. And he was exactly the opposite of every single guy she had ever dated, including her husband.
After that first sighting she had spent countless hours fantasizing about him. About what he would be like in bed. About the way he would treat her. The ways he would touch her. The feel of his roughness against her soft skin. The sensation of his hard hands fondling her.
And now, two days after living with only a thin motel room wall between them, she had decided to speak to him, to spend some time getting to know him. Her mind told her that this was what she was doing, that she was just looking to spend a few minutes chatting. A curiosity type of thing.
But her body knew better.
"Sooo, what's up?" His voice broke through her rambling thoughts.
"Oh. Um... Um...," she stammered at first. "I... uhh... I, uh, just thought I'd say hello."
They had exchanged a few pleasantries during the couple of days, but they hadn't introduced themselves or gone further than the obligatory 'How-you-doing?'-type-of-thing.
"Well theenn... Hello."
The mischievous grin he said this with reached his eyes and sent a pleasant shiver through Pam. Again she froze for a moment, insecurities rising.
But twenty minutes later she was stepping across a motel room threshold once more. This time into his room.
It was an mirror image of the one she was sharing with her husband. The small, round table with a couple of stiff back chairs. A long, low dresser with the TV and advertisements holder on it. At the back was a vanity and sink, the wall behind them covered by a mirror. To the left of this was the door into the bathroom with its tiled floor and short tub. In the center of the main room sat the bed.
The bed.
Covered by a too-colorful comforter with a mass of pillows piled up at the head, it was big, thick and firm. And the sight of it . . . of this one . . . of the one in this man's room . . . in the room she was now inside of . . . caused Pam's heart to race faster, her palms to feel clammy.
"Here you go," he said, his voice breaking through the mixture of thoughts running through her mind once again.
He was standing a few feet away holding a cold soda out toward her. A cold soda he'd pulled from the little refrigerator setting next to the dresser. The cold soda that he'd offered her outside and she had followed him into his room to get. The cold soda that would probably not be drank any time soon.
Pam reached out and accepted it from him but failed to pull the tab, instead letting the hand holding it drop to her side and hang there. For a minute the two of them stood in silence, looking at each other.
Nervously she stood with her feet close together, her body swaying ever so slightly as her body rocked uncertainly.
She was short and petite, her small frame delicate. Beneath the loose t-shirt she wore, her large breasts were partially camouflaged. From beneath a pair of cut-off denim shorts, the material of which hugged her small ass tightly, her legs stretched briefly down to the slip-on sandals she wore. Her long, strawberry blond hair hung way down her back, a small collection of the tresses draping down her front on either side as well. Her bangs partially hid her soft green eyes as she looked at him.
In just his jeans he stood well above her, his own long hair hanging past his shoulders. His bare torso looked strong, tone and hard. Not cut and buffed like a weight lifter, but meaty and powerful like a man who is used to physical labor. His eyes drilled into her with a strange kind of understanding that Pam had never gotten from a man before.
