Theater of the mind
Michelle was near the end of her shift at the registration desk when he walked into the hotel lobby. She looked twice to be sure it was not Henry Cavill.
Tall, strong jaw, with dark hair and wide shoulders. She spent a moment in her imagination, dashing around from behind the counter, dropping his pants to reveal a large dick at the top of muscular thighs. She knew his cock would fill her mouth as she sucked him.
Archie admired the woman behind the counter. Maybe five foot-six, with thick dark hair around an angular face and high cheekbones. Her hotel uniform genuinely flattered her. The knee-length skirt hugged her hips and the light-colored button-down shirt allowed her white lace bra containing nicely sized breasts to be easily visible.
As he stepped up to the reception desk she started to ask the usual question, "Are you checking in?" but she got no further than looking into his eyes. They pierced through her with an intensity that reached her heart, finding something that had been hiding since her husband died 15 years ago. Finding her most intimate secrets and reading through them like a phone book. She imagined opening her shirt and forcing her tits to his face.
When she clenched her thighs and focused, she managed to ask his name. His smile disarmed any defense she may have had against his deep, soft voice. "Archie Oliver," he said with a hint of a British accent. When she paused to wait for her knees to stop shaking, he mistook it for disfavor with his name. He shrugged and smiled again, causing a skip of her heartbeat. "I know, it sounds gay to Americans," he took her hand between both of his, the dark brown eyes focusing on her crystal blue ones. "But I promise I am heterosexual. 100 percent all man.
She couldn't help but glance at the front of his pants, as if to confirm his claim. She wondered what his pubes would smell like as she took his dick to the back of her throat. Suddenly realizing she had checked out his package, she forced her eyes back up to his. He smiled again, not unkindly, "See?"
A line of liquid ran down the inside of her thigh.
She pulled her hand away, tapping the screen of her computer. "Yes, Mister Archie... Mister Oliver, we have you in room 1028. Here's your key." She handed him two magnetic key cards. He took them in his long fingers, tucking one in the pocket of his shirt. She noticed the solid muscle underneath as he handed one card back to her. "I won't need two. Why don't you keep one?"
She tried to say that was against policy, but instead said only "Thank you." She slipped the card in the breast pocket of her blouse, letting her fingers tease her nipples through her bra. He reached over, taking her hand again, brushing the back of his knuckles against the nipple, coaxing it to press out into the shirt.
She realized it was the first genuinely inappropriate thing he had done outside her imagination. "Very nice," he said, spreading the fingers enough to gently pinch the nipple between them.
"Very nice," she whispered back, leaning into his hand, wanting him to rip the buttons from her blouse and seal his mouth around her nipple, sucking hard.
"What time does your shift end?"
The abruptness of his question brought her back to reality. "Why do you need to know that?"
He smiled again. She locked her knees. "I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner. Is the restaurant here any good?"
Thinking of jeopardizing her mortgage and her daughter's college fund, she took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Mister Oliver,"
"Archie."
"But hotel policy discourages employees from getting involved with guests."
"It's only dinner, how involved can it get?"
"You didn't mean?"
"That I wanted to take you to my room, tie you up, tear that skirt away and lick your cunt until you scream my name for all to hear?"
She paused to make sure he had, in fact said that out loud.
"Um, no, it's just..."
"Too bad because that is exactly what I want to do. But, after dinner. What do you recommend I eat?" Again, he pinned her with his eyes. She was proud of the fact that she did not shout "ME!" and climb onto the counter, hiking up her dress exposing her dripping pussy to his hungry tongue.
"The grilled salmon is usually excellent"
"Not too fishy?"
"N...no. I'm usually very fresh. THE FISH is usually very fresh."
His grin was deadly and his eyes narrowed. "I'll be sure to give it a try." As he walked toward the elevator, towing his suitcase, she watched his ass, wanting to grab it and pull his cock between her legs. He stepped into the elevator turned to look at her and toss a finger-wave as the doors closed.
"That is something, isn't it?" said her female coworker from over her shoulder. She turned around quickly, grabbing the other woman by her shoulders. "Javonne, if I asked you to, would you drop here and now and eat my pussy until I cum on your face?"
Her friend looked at her very confused. "Is that something you think you're likely to do? Because, sure but... "
"Oh, Javonne," she gestured toward the elevator, "It's that guy. He got me so worked up that I'm afraid I'll do something stupid."
"Like lesbian cunnilingus at the reception desk is a better option?"