I'm normally an office rat, but, every few months, they let me out of my cage. Conferences, seminars, symposia, I had no clue what the difference was, to be honest. You sat and listened to presentations from industry peers. Or had to endure blatant sales pitches from vendors and consulting companies masquerading as helpful case studies. Infomercials is what they were. Sometimes, like this week, I gave a talk myself. I wondered if the audience found my sessions as boring as I did other people's.
You were meant to network, of course. Then I'd never been good at that type of thing. I'd gravitate to the same handful of people I already knew, slightly jaded regulars like me. I know I'm not selling this. On the positive side, it got me away from my desk. Away from the job I had been doing for fifteen years, pretty much in the same exact way. Let's say that my career had peaked early, shall we?
Speaking of networking, some attendees took this aspect very seriously. Put a bunch of middle aged people, maybe not overly burdened with excitement in their personal lives, in a hotel together, with easy access to alcohol, and infidelity is going to be rife. On top of that, there were generally a few working girls around. It must have been like shooting fish in a barrel for them. I sometimes wondered if there were also male escorts at these events. Not every female delegate, and there were more each year, was going to want to swim in the pool of forty- or fifty-something, male middle managers. I'd also heard stories of hotel staff providing additional services to guests.
A lot of stuff was going on and more than once I had been forced to listen to banging headboards and poorly suppressed screams coming from adjoining rooms.
That had not been for me. Not that I hadn't been tempted; I had needs too. But I had been married, to my High School sweetheart as it happens, and had always fought off thoughts of cheating. It had been hard sometimes, but I had been a faithful husband.
Had was the operative word in all of those statements. I was now living in an Airbnb, while the divorce was being finalized. We'd not been able to have children. That had both been a stressor and removed the glue that had kept many a fractured marriage together. But, as I assumed was normally the case, it wasn't simply one thing. No affairs for either of us, at least as far as I knew. Just a slow accumulation of scar tissue that smothered our previous feelings for each other. What do they say? As time goes by it's harder to delight each other and easier to disappoint.
As for being faithful? The last conference had been a couple of months ago, post-separation. It was at the same venue as now, just a short flight from my new home. When one of the call girls had sat down and asked me to buy her a drink, instead of politely declining, I'd said sure. She was a lovely, willowy brunette, with a beautiful face. I guessed she was in her mid-twenties. She said her name was Alexa and I found out that her oral skills were pretty special and her pussy surprisingly tight. Not that I had a lot of women to compare to. I'd lost my virginity to an older girl who had something of a reputation for notching up cherries. Then it had been just Helen, only Helen.
I was upset of course, I had moved out only weeks before. Maybe I was trying to get revenge; though it's hard to say on whom or for what. Helen and I had both agreed that we were over, it wasn't anyone's fault. Perhaps I was making up for lost time. Whatever my motivations, as Alexa knelt in front of me and pulled my cock out, I felt something. Not just her soft lips caressing my shaft, but maybe a Band Aid being ripped off psychologically.
It was day one of the conference and I guess the organizers hadn't exactly been inundated with pitches for talks. As a result, I had been given a plenary slot. It had gone well, there was even a ripple of applause when I finished. A couple of the afternoon presenters had been mildly interesting, but I had other things on my mind. Specifically, would Alexa be there?
I had been a flustered first-timer after we had fucked. If I'm honest, I'd had a hard time suppressing tears as I looked at my nude torso in the restroom afterwards; a filled condom taunting me from the open waste basket; another load in Alexa's stomach. She had more business to conduct and I didn't have the presence of mind to ask for her contact details. I'd tried different escort sites, but couldn't find her. A search for Alexa brought up very different girls.
I'd been reduced to just trawling through pages of photos, hoping to stumble across her. While I never did, I managed to arrange to meet with a couple of other girls who took my eye. The second had asked me if I wanted anal. It was an extra $100, but I had always wanted to try. Helen was never receptive, just one more sliver of scar tissue. The girl had been so tight and I had loved stretching her sphincter. But, mid-sodomy, I had imagined it was Alexa's ass I was pounding instead. A therapist might have suggested that I was looking for a surrogate Helen. I'd probably have told them to go fuck themselves, but I also knew it was true.
Now I was back at the same hotel. I hoped it was Alexa's regular patch. It was a long shot, I knew, there were two other business hotels in the vicinity and more in the neighboring downtown area. I'd been at the bar for an hour and a half now, making my two bourbons last. I had had other girls come and talk to me, including a rather inebriated woman whose talk I had earlier attended. I said I was waiting for someone, true in a way, but we exchanged virtual business cards nevertheless. She was cute enough for her age and it's good to have a fallback plan.
I was staring into my drink, swirling it around my glass and thinking of gazing into Alexa's hazel eyes as I pumped semen into her mouth. Then she sat down next to me. Not Alexa, a smaller girl and platinum blonde, with her hair scraped back in a ponytail. She said hi and asked me how my evening was going. Something about her voice caught my attention. It was maybe its sonorous depth and the disparity with her petite body.
"Hi, I'm Andy. Can I buy you a drink?"
This was odd. I was pretty sure that she wasn't a delegate. I'd have put her in her early twenties at most; not the normal age bracket. Neither were her clothes exactly standard business attire. So she must be a professional. Then why didn't I wait for her to ask for a drink? That was the normal start of negotiations. That's how the game was played.
"Sure, Andy. I'm Emma. I'll have what you are having."
"A bourbon? Are you sure?"
I guess that was sexist of me. She put her head on one side and adopted a quizzical look, as if to say really? I quickly ordered her a drink and another for me. Alexa seemed to be a no show, but this girl was interesting. She was short, her legs barely reached the footrest of the barstool. She wore heavy makeup, dark eyeliner, long mascara pasted eyelashes, bronze eyeshadow. Her eyes were large and of an indeterminate color; as different light caught them, they seemed to change from pale green to light blue-gray. Her lips were a study in scarlet and her cheekbones accentuated by blusher. Layers of foundation couldn't quite conceal her freckles. The overall effect was coquettish, perhaps even slightly devilish. Then a lot of the working girls went for that look.
Our drinks arrived and we clinked glasses. She took a gulp and shook her head.
"That's strong."
She didn't seem too put off, however, and took a second, if more conservative, sip.
Emma was wearing a stretchy, red boob tube in some shiny material, this wasn't exactly my area of expertise. It clung to her, leaving little to the imagination. She wasn't the most well-endowed of girls, Alexa's breasts were much fuller, but her small tits complemented her petite frame. The shape of her nipples was very visible and I found myself thinking about sucking on them. Her midriff was bare and a diamond twinkled in the dark recesses of her navel. Under a very short, burgundy, leather skirt she wore black fishnets. As she sat cross-legged, I could see the tops of them and a little pale flesh above. Again my thoughts wandered to my tongue on her skin. Black stilettos completed her look.
I realized that my eyes had been traversing her. Flipping upwards a little guiltily, I saw her smiling at me. Her grin was crooked, suggesting she knew full well what had been on my mind. She was maybe not the prettiest girl I had spoken to that evening, but there was definitely something about her. Small talk was never my thing, so I went with something neutral.
"So, Emma, are you from around here?"
"Not really, you might say that we are new in town."
"We?" I asked curiously.
Maybe I had misjudged things.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
Again the crooked smile, as if there was some joke that only she was aware of.
"No. No boyfriend. But I'm with someone. My... counterpart. Yes counterpart. That's Lily. We used to work together. Well maybe together is the wrong way of putting it, we worked at the same place. But we certainly got fired together and, as we don't know anyone else in this town, it seemed to make sense to hang out. I guess you could say we are each seeking employment."
"Employment? Well I might be able to help with that."
It was a weak line, but I have to admit that the idea of Emma and her friend sounded pretty good to me. That would scratch another of my long suppressed itches.
"So where is your friend, Lily, right? Is she as pretty as you?"
Again, what a cliché! But Emma didn't seem too bothered by my stilted conversation.
"She's here. She's a little shy. Is it OK if we go over to her? She doesn't like to be too public."
I said sure and Emma hopped off the stool and beckoned me to follow her to a low-lit cubicle lying next to the wall, with leather seats and a table. I was polite enough to let her lead the way. For a skinny girl, she had a lovely bubble butt and I enjoyed how it moved as she walked. I saw just the outline of her friend as I stood and said hi. But it was not until Emma and I had sat down opposite Lily that I could take a better look. I was a little surprised, but tried to be polite. To be honest, I was thinking about scratching yet another itch and could feel my heart racing as a result.
"I'm Andy. Pleased to meet you, Lily. Are... are you two sisters?... or cousins?"
Lily was backlit and it created a halo around her loose, mid-length hair. This was dirty blonde and had a slight wave. She seemed to be wearing no cosmetics and her freckles stood out, even in the dim light. Her face was more moon-shaped than her friend's, or was that just a result of Emma's makeup? Lily had the identical, slightly strange, eye color as Emma, but her attire was much more modest. A white shirt, with full-length sleeves and buttoned to the top. I thought I had glimpsed blue jeans before I sat down.
Once you got past the superficial, the girls did indeed look like close relations. Hell they could have been identical twins. I tried to calm my growing excitement.
Lily replied. Where Emma's tone was deeper than her size might suggest, Lily's voice tinkled. It was not so much that she spoke in a high register as the light musicality of it. If Emma brought an oboe to mind, Lily speaking was reminiscent of a softly plucked harp.
"No, not sisters. Not really. We aren't related. But you might say we are connected. We complement each other I guess."
"OK."
I probably sounded a little confused and a lot incredulous, but what the Hell.
"So Emma tells me you girls are looking for work. What line of business are you in?"
Emma answered this time.
"Well, we used to be... advisors. We had a... client and helped her when she had decisions to make. We would offer our opinions. Lay out alternatives. Sort of a brainstorming service, I guess."
Lily continued.
"But the... consultancy who employed us made us... redundant. And so here we are."
"So you are looking for advisory business?"
