A Night to Remember Ch. 01

"You go ahead; I'll get my things, but don't tell him it's me."

"Okay." Jack should have thought that was strange, but he was so under her spell, it didn't even occur to him.

* * *

Once again, Jack found Peter with another gorgeous woman; this one appeared a bit tipsy.

"Having a good time, Jack," the boss asked. He was sounding a little inebriated, as well.

"Actually, I am." Jack looked around as though to make certain no one else was in earshot. "I met a woman," he whispered, leaning closer.

Peter grinned. "I told you. Where are you taking her?"

Jack was thrown off by his boss's directness. "Uh, well, she wants to go to a quiet lounge."

"Good man. Take a cab to the Camelot Club." If you need a hotel room afterward, the Bentley is around the corner. Very discreet." Peter patted him on the shoulder and winked. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

"Uh, oh, well, uh, thanks. See you tomorrow."

As he headed for the entrance, Jack felt uneasy at his boss's cavalier manner. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea that Peter knew about this.

* * *

In the taxi, Catherine sat right next to Jack, very close. A slight turn of his head to the right allowed him to see the rise and fall of her breasts out of the top of her dress. Very arousing. Her crossed legs also revealed thighs that any man would die to get between. Jack had this uncanny urge to put his arm around her, but feared being too forward. Beyond that, he couldn't believe he was sitting in this cab not only with a woman who was not his wife, but one so beautiful and classy and who, under other circumstances, would not have given him a second glance. He reached up and pinched his ear to make certain he wasn't dreaming. If there was only some sort of similar sanity check he could perform on himself.

After Jack gave the driver their destination, he nearly jumped out of his seat when Catherine put a hand on his leg. "So, Peter recommended the Camelot?"

"Yes, he did. But we can go somewhere else, if you prefer."

"No, it's fine."

"So, you've been there before?"

"Yes, many times."

"With Peter?"

"A few."

"So, you and Peter were . . ."

"I would rather not talk about Peter right now."

"Oh, okay." Obviously, there was a history there, perhaps one without fond memories. Beyond that, Jack didn't think anything of it.

"If the place has bad memories, we don't have to go there. I've never been there, and he recommended it without me even asking."

"No, it's very nice."

"Then what makes it so special." Jack was really curious now.

"It's dark and quiet and . . . well, the booths are very private, and much goes on in them . . ."

Suddenly, it hit Jack like a ton of bricks. "You mean like sexual things?"

"Yes."

Dumbfounded, Jack muttered, "I had no idea such places even existed."

"Now, it is my turn to ask if you really want to go there."

Nervously, he answered, "I'm game if you are."

* * *

The interior of the club matched its name in decor with a distinctive medieval look. The waitresses were all dressed like peasants, but in burlap-type costumes much more revealing than their centuries past counterparts. There was one large room where there were rows upon rows of booths made to look like tents as one might have found at a jousting match hundreds of years ago. At the top of each was a flag that the inhabitants raised for service or lowered for privacy. If the flag was at rest, the persons inside were left alone. The interior table had lights resembling candles and similar lights hung above that could be brightened or dimmed to suit the mood.

Jack merely continued to be amazed that such a place existed. Before they were seated, Catherine whispered something to the waitress, who simply nodded, then took their drink orders—champagne for her, his usual scotch and water—before closing them in.

"This place is unbelievable," Jack said like a child's first time at an amusement park.

Catherine smiled warmly at his enthusiasm

Jack stole a glance at his watch: nine-thirty p.m. It was nearly an hour drive home for him. He'd have to call home and tell Sally he'd be late—not that he thought she would care. Her whatever meeting was probably still going on. It was also a reminder that he was married and out with another woman. He looked up guiltily at Catherine, but her exquisite features and engaging smile smothered his concern. Still, he had an attack of conscience that forced him to come clean.

"I have to be honest with you," he began, somewhat nervously. "I'm married."

"Yes, I know," she responded without a care.

"You did?" he asked, stupefied.

She held up her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. "Your wedding ring is rather obvious."

Jack noticed the ring on her finger. It could have been a wedding ring, but it looked more like costume jewelry, although he'd be willing to bet a month's wages it was real. "And you wanted to do this anyway?" he asked in astonishment.

"I am married also," she informed him, again with movement of her finger. "But not happily."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not. I'm leaving him. Tomorrow."

This was all happening way faster than Jack was able to absorb it; almost as though he was caught in some sort of conspiracy. He wanted to be cautious, but somehow, with her, he didn't think he had the strength. He was under her spell. "Was he at the party tonight?"

"Yes."

"Does he know you left?"

"Probably not. He's probably too busy charming some other young woman. He's not a very caring man."

"He sounds a lot like Peter."

"Yes . . . he does."

"So, he obviously doesn't know you're leaving him either."

"That is correct."

"What will he do when he learns?"

"Probably attempt to convince me to stay, but it wouldn't work." Catherine shrugged. "Hopefully, he won't even find out until I'm on the plane."

"Oh. Where are you going?"

"Back to Paris."

Jack was suddenly disappointed. So, this would be his one and only evening with her. Not that he thought he had any kind of chance with her; particularly since he didn't have the nerve to leave Sally; much as he would like to. "I envy you."

"Why?" she asked softly, as though sensing his dismay.

"I wouldn't mind doing the same thing, but I don't know what I would do or where I would go."

"That sounds sad."

Jack shrugged. "Forgive me for asking this, but what is the purpose of us being here?"

"I really like you, Jack," Catherine said, sincerely, again resting her hand on his leg. This time, he was not stunned, he actually enjoyed it. "You are totally unlike all of the people I have to associate with. You don't put on for people. There was probably not one other person at that party like that. Most of the men are all big business types who are so full of themselves it makes me sick to have to listen to them. They treat women poorly. And the women; the ones who are married are trophy wives and the others want to be and will do anything to get there. I know because that used to be me. But over the last year, I began to see how absurd it all was."

Pensively, Jack commented, "It almost makes me question who I'm working for. So, I'm your last fling before you go home to France?"

"I'm sorry, Jack. This was really selfish of me, but I don't know what will happen when I return overseas. I just wanted to spend my last evening here with someone really nice."

She cupped his face, pulled it to hers and kissed him tenderly.

Strangely, Jack found himself kissing her back . . . and it felt wonderful. He had never in his life experienced such a sensual kiss. He didn't want it to end, but it did when the waitress tapped outside to deliver their drinks. However, when Jack admitted the server, Catherine did not pull back, keeping her soft lips within inches, as they both ignored the young woman. Alone again, their mouths were drawn together once more. Jack reached out to hold her, but with his eyes closed, he didn't realize that his hand was cupping the side of her breast. She made no attempt to move it. Part of him wondered what could be so soft, but his mind was not thinking clearly because he was so absorbed by the amorous emotions he was feeling, not to mention the erection he had developed.

When finally they did pull apart and he saw where his hand was, he instantly pulled it away as though he had touched something scorching. "I'm so sorry," he offered.

Catherine smiled. "It's alright," she said barely above a whisper. "It was nice."

From this moment on, Jack knew his life would never be the same. He had no idea what direction it would take; perhaps nothing more than the continuance of his mundane existence, but there would always, always be the reminder of this evening lingering in the back of his mind. It would forever be a night to remember.

Absently, Jack sipped his scotch and water, as Catherine did the same, but he drank in more than just the soothing liquid. His eyes absorbed the beauteous vision before him: a face he could barely remove his pupils from, those perfect breasts erupting from her low-cut dress that his hands longed to touch, and her shapely legs which were just about completely visible from her skirt that was riding so high.

She took his hand and placed it back where it had been, and this time, he cupped it to experience its full roundness. His cock pulsed and his lips were magnetically drawn to hers. His hand was no longer content to merely act as support to her bra. It moved with a mind of its own across the top that was uncovered. His fingers tenderly delved into her tight cleavage.

The emotion was not one-sided. Catherine pivoted her rear, ignoring the hem of her dress, forcing her right leg up onto the bench seat behind Jack and her left leg over his lap resting on his very hard member. Her ankles met, locking him in.

Jack could feel the pre-cum oozing out of him probably creating a huge wet spot on his trousers. She had to feel it on her bare leg. But if so, she did nothing about it.

He had never fancied himself a particularly good kisser, but then he'd had nothing to gauge himself against. In any event, he must have been holding his own with Catherine because she kept coming back for more.

Allowing his hands to drop from her breasts, Jack slid them along her sides down to her hips. His right hand moved to the top of her exposed thigh, the feeling causing him temporary lightheadedness. He couldn't remember when he had been so intimate with a woman.

There was a dreamy, contented look in Catherine's eyes that told him she might be experiencing some similar feelings. She pulled back, sipped her champagne, then allowed her trunk to go all the way back until she was laying down. He thought he saw desire in her features, but he couldn't be certain, again given his experience in these situations. However, he felt something emerging within him, a self-assurance.

Jack's other hand found her left thigh, and both hands caressed her upper legs, his thumbs pushing dangerously close to her nether region. Her bewitching smiled confirmed her acceptance.

There now seemed to be a steady stream of pre-cum flowing out of him and he could only imagine what the front of his pants must look like.

Suddenly, as though being harshly awakened from a dream, Jack pulled his hands away abruptly like what he was touching was scorching (although she was hot). What was he doing? In this tiny room with this half-naked woman whom he barely knew, about to touch—no grope—her most private parts; had he lost his mind?

Catherine's eyes opened wide, and with a frown, she lifted her head to see what the matter was.

To her questioning expression, Jack said, pensively, "I don't know what I'm doing here."

"You're doing just fine," Catherine said, by way of encouragement, lifting herself further onto her elbows.

"I don't mean . . . what we're doing physically." Jack had to fumble for words. "You're married, I'm married, you're leaving for Paris tomorrow . . . what are we doing?"

Now Catherine sat up all the way, but she didn't remove her legs from around him, she even went one step further and put her arms around him. "We are two lost souls leading very unhappy lives providing a brief respite for each other; a moment of time where we can forget what is happening around us."

"That's easy for you to say—you're off to Paris tomorrow."

"But there is no guarantee that it will be any better for me," she explained.

"You're going home."

"That is all that it is."

"I understand," Jack acknowledged. He did. "And all I have is to return to my miserable existence."

"All the more reason to enjoy this moment," Catherine urged.

With a frown of incomprehension, Jack asked, "You really want me . . . want us . . . to, to—"

"Make love."

Jack couldn't believe this was happening to him. This had never happened to him before. Not only did a woman want to make love with him—discounting the fact that she was not his wife; a woman who did not care about having sex with him anyway—but she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Regardless the state of his marriage, how could he pass this up? "Here? Now?"

Catherine quickly tidied herself, then slipped past him and opened the flap to their "tent." She held out her hand for him to take. "Come with me."

Dutifully following, Jack pulled his coat around him to conceal any wet spots. She led him down the row of other "tents."

"What about the bill?"

"I charged it to Peter's account," Catherine explained, stepping up her pace.

She had led Jack by the hand into a long, dimly lit hallway. He stopped short at her explanation. "Are you kidding?" he asked, horrified. "He'll fire me."

"He won't even know," Catherine countered, very calmly. "Trust me. You'll get the bill as VP of Accounting. And like all of his other indulgences, you'll pay it as entertainment expenses."

"How do you know?"

"Let's just say I have it on good authority."

With a shrug of disbelief, Jack asked, "Where are we going?"

"Where did Peter recommend?"

"The Bentley Hotel."

"The club has this direct hallway." Catherine tugged on his hand to get him moving again.

"And I guess Peter will be paying for this, as well?"

"Enjoy the perks of upper management. You won't be the only vice president you'll receive such bills on."

* * *

"I need to make a phone call," Jack said when they entered the lobby.

"Very well. I'll take care of the room," Catherine said as she headed off for the front desk. He had the distinct impression she was not new to this.

He found a quiet corner, pulled out his cell phone and called home.

"What is it, Jack?" Sally said by way of a warm greeting. "Are you on your way home?"

"No, I'm still at the party. It's late, so if you don't mind, I'm going to stay in town tonight."

"That's fine, whatever, Jack."

"How's your meeting going?"

"I can't talk right now, Jack. Some of the ladies are still here. Call me tomorrow." And with that, she hung up.

A glance at his watch said it was ten p.m. Her meetings didn't usually last this long. May it was because he wasn't there. Jack shrugged. The way the conversation had gone, he didn't care; particularly since he now had something better to do.

When she saw him hang up, Catherine approached him, holding out the key card.

A minute later, in the elevator, noting the sour look on his face, Catherine asked, "Everything alright at home?"

"My wife was her usual charming self."

"I know the feeling." She turned to him. "Perhaps this will help." She pulled his head to hers, pressing their lips together in a very sensual kiss. As if that was not enough to stimulate him, she placed the palm of her hand against his cock and rubbed it to full hardness. She was full of surprises.

The elevator dinged to signal their arrival on the 19th of 20 stories. There were only a few rooms on this floor, so Jack should not have been taken by surprise upon entering the two-story suite—which explained the 19^th floor.

"I'm going to freshen up," Catherine advised. "But first, how do you like it?"

"H-how do I like what?" a confused Jack replied.

"How do you like to do it?" she clarified with a grin, thinking he was being funny.

Then, he stupidly realized she was referring to sex. "Anyway you want," he responded slowly, hesitantly, hoping it would satisfy her, but more importantly, hoping he could keep up. He couldn't believe he was going to allow himself to go through with it.

With a nod, Catherine gave a knowing smile. "Then you go upstairs and get comfortable. I'll be right up."

Apprehensively, Jack slowly walked up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, he stopped and turned to survey the suite. He had never been in a hotel room so opulent. This was how the other half lived. Peons like him stayed at Holiday Inns. Without realizing it, he sat on the top step. What was he doing with a woman like this?

There was a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling beside the staircase. It illuminated the lower lobby and living room, the stairs and the upper balcony. Jack lay back staring at the sparkling crystal. He vaguely heard Catherine ascending the steps.

When she reached the top, seeing him supine, she stooped down spreading her legs, revealing a hairless, uncovered pussy. Leaning over, spilling her tits forward and almost out the top of her dress, with a sly smile she asked, "Oh, you want to play?"

Catherine crawled sultrily over to him. He rolled his head to the side to see, waiting for her breasts to fall out of her dress. They never did. As she passed his mid-section, she dragged her hand up his thigh and over his crotch. She grabbed his cock through his pants, massaging it to attain full mast.

Now standing, Catherine hiked her dress up to her waist exposing her beautifully moist pussy lips. She rubbed two fingers along her vulva, teasing him. Occasionally, she would spread her lips giving him a glimpse of the pink wetness inside.

He wouldn't have expected such seductive behavior from such an elegant woman, but coming from her, there was something about it he liked. He suspected she didn't just do this for anyone.

Spreading her legs, Catherine dipped her finger into her pussy, pulling out a saturated digit that she bent down and painted onto his lips. He automatically opened his mouth to taste. It was a delicious nectar he had not enjoyed in a long time. But however long it had been, he didn't remember it being this appetizing.

Jack reached up to scoop more, but she playfully moved away, performing a sensual dance to remove her dress. She continued to sway in just stockings and heels. Coating her finger once again in her succulent juices, she squatted just over his crotch as she extended her finger to his mouth. Hungrily, he sucked her finger. Retracting her hand, she used it to rub his bulging cock a couple of strokes before standing again and moving to a silent tune.

This time, Catherine turned and squatted just above his face, presenting her gooey snatch for him to savor. He wasted no time darting his tongue in. She moved forward and backward. Jack grabbed for her hips to hold her in place, but she teasingly moved on.

Catherine's next port of call was to move down to Jack's legs where she spread them apart. On her knees, she leaned forward, enticingly pulling down his zipper and the elastic of his boxers, exposing just a couple of inches of his rock hard cock.

"Oh, my," she commented. "You are very well endowed."

He always thought he was also. But then he always figured that all guys thought that about themselves. Of course, Sally had never commented on his size, so he'd really had no confirmation of his own belief—until now. He couldn't help but allow a grin.