Aysha Ch. 1

Chapter 1: Watching Her From My Hotel Room

This occurred several years ago on a business trip to Denver. I was attending a dull, snowbound three-day conference and was regretting it from the moment I stepped out of the airport. The conference sucked. The speakers were weak; the materials were lousy; and the place just sucked. The downtown Convention Center itself is nice but in the winter, it feels like you're inside one of those cheap, touristy, snow globes... only with the snow being on the outside. Why couldn't they host these conferences in Hawaii? I ate at the Cheesecake Factory the first night but eating solo just isn't enjoyable. So the second night, I decided to order room service and just bore myself to death with whatever was on tv. I resisted the urge to watch the porn channels knowing that all my expenses would be scrutinized in detail by the corporate accounting trolls when I turned in my trip receipts.

One positive note was that the hotel was packed with noisy college kids. Apparently the conference coincided with some nationwide fraternity-sorority conference. There were drunk, partying coeds everywhere you looked. That's another reason I decided to stay in. Every place that was open was packed to the gills. It was perpetual happy hour, which was fantastic... well, it would've been, that is, 10 years ago when I was still in college.

So, miserable me.. I found myself at one point late in the evening looking out the window at the hotel's second tower across the street and noticing several rooms with people pressed against the windows and watching something. They were gesturing to others in the room to come see, and they were all bunched up at the windows. There was a commotion at the street with a bunch of guys looking up at my building and hooting and hollering. After a moment, I gathered that somewhere below my floor, there was a couple who was putting on a show for the audience. I watched the people in the rooms across the way to see if I could figure out more. Some girls in one room were laughing and flashing their boobs at the guys on the street. That prompted more cheers. Cool, Mardi Graz. I flicked off the light in my room and turned off the tv to spy in private.

Whatever was going on, it must've been good. I saw a young couple huddled by their window intently watching the show. The girl was pressed against the window, resting her palms on the glass, and the guy was reaching around her fondling her breasts and slipping his hand inside her pants. They made out for a few minutes and I was rewarded with a couple flashes of her small breasts before the guy disappeared from view. A second later, their room went dark. Nuts. On the floor above them, I watched a lone girl peeking out from between the curtains in her room. The lights in her room were off, but her window was lit up a little from the hotel's sign next to her room. She was wearing a robe, something satiny, and touching herself. I caught fleeting glimpses of her thigh and dark pubic hair as she alternated between cupping her breasts and then slipping back down to rub between her legs. I slipped off my sweatpants and stroked myself. All too soon though, she must've finished or gotten bored because she stepped away from the window and was gone. Nuts, again. In another room, four girls were rushing about in various states of undress. I watched them parade out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel or buck naked, and get dressed. They tugged at bra straps and adjusted each others' clothes before rushing out to whatever party they were off to. Hmmm, that was nice.

I scanned the other rooms for something else to watch but most people seemed to have lost interest. After a while, nearly all of the rooms across the way were dark. All except for a couple rooms. One room was about one floor below and maybe one room over from mine. The curtains were open only partway but the room was fully lit. I could see a swath of the bed lit up and saw someone's legs. A girl's, I hoped. This was confirmed when one leg shifted and a girl wearing only her underwear moved past between the curtains. I had only time to register a small slender body, short, dark hair, wearing a dark bra and panties. I stared at the bed, hoping to see her again. Suddenly the curtains were swept aside and she appeared at the window. I froze, suddenly scared that she was looking at me. But she was looking down towards the street. She had a very nice body... short, maybe 5'2" I guessed, slender, tiny waist, curvy hips, nice legs, nice, round breasts... probably a B cup. She must've become aware that she could be seen because she quickly flicked off the lights in her room. I could just make out her outline as she returned to the window and then retreated. A minute later her room was dimly lit up. She had turned on the tv and I could see her laying on the bed, lit up by the flickering blue-white light. I wished I had a pair of binoculars. I was fully caught up in this voyeur role. Her skin was tan, maybe a light mocha color. It was hard to be certain in the tv light. As near as I could tell, she was middle eastern maybe. And that was when I recognized her.

Her name was Aysha. We'd met at the conference that morning during one of the many coffee breaks. She drank her coffee with cream which I happened to be pouring for myself when she approached. Someone was hovering close by my side and I turned to find myself looking at a very pretty, petite, young, Indian woman holding a coffee cup in her hand. She smiled when I raised my eyebrow and gestured towards her cup. I noticed her delicate hand as I added the cream to her coffee. Then I noted her soft green eyes and her lips as she thanked me. Her eyes and her lips both gave the impression that she had had an amusing thought. Later, I decided that it was her natural expression. It was something about the way her eyes were shaped and how the corners of her mouth hinted at a smile. She also had a beautiful voice... soft, but strong, feminine, confident. My eyes flickered towards her name tag and I heard her say "Aysha" as I read her name. I smiled again and told her that it was a pleasure to meet her. And it was. Most of the industry people I work with are older, fat, dumpy, people... your typical desk-jockies interspersed with a handful of young, energetic, consultant-bound professionals. I'm somewhere in between, but Aysha was definitely one of the young 'uns. She barely looked older than the coeds roaming the hotel lobby. She was dressed in a contemporary young-professional kind of business suit.. some kind of ivory-beige silk blend with that see-through gauzy kind of blouse underneath her jacket.

I'm on the younger side of the industry norm so maybe there was a common-age bonding thing going, or maybe she just thought I was younger. But we started talking and ended up skipping the next seminar. At first, she was somewhat reserved, but soon we were laughing together. She had an easy laugh and her eyes twinkled as she got more animated. We had common college experiences (though mine were several years before hers) and common workplace stories (young upstarts in the corporate world). There was a lunch break afterwards and we just followed the herd into the dining area and sat down at a mostly vacant table. I noticed that once the professional air was let go, she was very personable and physical... hand gestures and casual touching on the arm, touching my knee, that kind of thing. We started a game of making up stories about other conference attendees to crack each other up. Some woman in the restroom, she told me, was having a fit because her secret lover had shown up at the conference and a coworker had confronted her about it right there in front of everyone. This turned in to us being translators as we watched conversations going on at other tables. 'Say, Bob, we've know each other for what, 2-3 years, now? Why haven't you ever made a pass at me? We're both middle-aged, unattractive, balding men here... don't you think I have a nice ass?'

'Hi there. Helen, was it? I hope you don't mind me being forward, but your overbleached mustache is giving me quite a woody. Seriously, that's a fact. Want to touch it?' It became a contest of wits to see who would break first. She was exceptionally good at mimicking accents, while I relied on crude innuendos and bad puns to crack her up. It was great fun and we were almost in tears before the lunchtime presentations began. The lights were turned down, and I was treated to watching her profile in the dim light.

I was admiring her slender neck and the smooth skin along her collarbone when it struck me again how beautiful she was. The see-through material of her blouse made it hard to resist stealing a glance at body. I could see the swell of her breasts and could just make out the edge of her bra between her cleavage from where I sat. I tried not to be obvious about looking at her. Since our table was somewhat shielded from general view, it wasn't long before she started whispering over her shoulder and making cracks again. I nudged her side with my knee, making her jump and squeak. She was apparently ultra-ticklish there. How could I stop? Every few seconds I would nudge her again, making her squeak and squirm as she tried to fake paying attention to the speaker. Her neck and cheeks were getting flushed and she started squeezing my thigh, right above my knee, to make me quit. Ever try that? It was my turn to squirm. She kept a firm grip on my thigh to keep me in check, but it was the feel of the heat from her palm that was distracting me. I eventually relented when she begged a truce, saying that if I continued she was going to wet her pants. I almost choked on my coffee when she said that. So I stopped nudging her side. But she kept her hand where it lay on my leg. My imagination kicked into gear and I pictured her sliding her hand higher up my leg to where I was finding it increasingly uncomfortable and constrained. Then the lights flicked back on and the room sprang to life. As Aysha turned to say something, I thought I saw her glance at my crotch. I looked away, pretending not to notice, and grabbed her purse for her.

I was oh, mildly disappointed, when our conference schedules split from there. She needed to attend a few seminars on the other side of the hall from where I had to be. I blurted out a lame proposal to have dinner together but even as I asked, I knew from her expression that the answer was going to be 'no.' Her company was hosting an after-hours reception/dinner for preferred clients that she had to attend. Ah well. I gave her my business card and we agreed to meet in the hotel restaurant for breakfast the next day. She gave me her card and quickly penned her room number on the back, telling me to give her a call before I went down the next day. That was a good sign. We were both late for the next round of seminars and there was the first awkward moment of silence between us. What do we do? Shake hands? Hug? Kiss? Yeah, uh right, if only. I hesitated. She had an amused expression on her face when I looked into her eyes. She leaned close and gave me a quick handshake/hug combination and half-whispered 'thank you for making the morning so fun.' I just grinned. For a split second, she had been pressed against my chest. What was that? Huh? I must've looked like a dork. Aysha whirled away and took a few steps before casually looking over her shoulder at me again. I hadn't moved yet and was still staring at her so I cold-busted her on that second-glance thing. She must've been embarrassed at being caught looking back because she turned away quickly. Then she took a couple more steps, giggled, and then turned around and mock-scolded me for 'staring at my tush, y'letch.' Oops, busted. I went slack-jaw and started following her, staring at her butt again, until she giggled more and ran off. Luckily, there was hardly anyone around by then... just a few smokers snubbing out their cigs before having to go back in. What was I thinking? I felt like I was back in high school or something.

The rest of the day sucked. I found myself replaying in my mind our conversation and imagining what Aysha'd be like in bed. She moved like an athlete and she seemed to be in great shape. I once had a girlfriend that liked to wear sexy, silk, Victoria Secrets kind of bras and panties. I got the impression that Aysha was like that too. I could still smell her perfume. I glanced at her business card a couple more times and then tucked it away. I was hoping to see her when the conference let out, but was disappointed when there was no sign of her. Ah well. I'd see her at breakfast.

This all came back to me six hours later as I watched Aysha lounging around in her hotel room watching tv in nothing but a bra and panties. I fished out her business card and took another look at her room number.. yep, one floor down from mine. It had to be her. I watched her flipping through the channels... bored, it looked like. I could imagine being on the bed with her, tracing her body with my fingers, laying her back on the bed and kissing those lips of hers. I wondered if she would squeak and moan if I teased her and tickled her softly. Man, I was getting horny.

Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I grabbed the phone and pulled it over to the window. It took me a second, but I got the nerve to dial her room. The phone rang and I was sitting there watching her and thinking 'what the hell am I doing?' Aysha turned towards the nightstand and I saw her raise her arm towards the tv... turning the volume down, I guessed. On the third ring, Aysha picked up the phone. 'Hello?' Man, what a gorgeous voice. My heart was beating, but I remember saying 'Hi. It's me... do you know who this is?' A long pause and my heart skipped a couple times. 'No. I'm sorry' she replied in her phony British accent 'You must have dialed incorrectly.' I smiled. 'My mistake, ma'am. I'm sorry to inconvenience you' and I hung up. I was grinning to myself as I watched her turn towards the nightstand again. I could imagine her saying 'hello? hello?' so I let her wait. I wanted to see what she'd do. It looked like she was smiling, still holding the phone to her ear. Then she put it down and crawled across the bed to the other nightstand. I got a great view of her panties and butt as she picked up something from the nightstand. She flipped it over. Ah. I hadn't given her my room number when we swapped cards. I could picture her frowning.

I redialed her room and she picked up immediately. 'Dork,' was all she said. 'Excuse me?' I asked innocently, 'who is this and how did you get my number?' Then she cracked up, and it was like we just picked up our conversation where we left off at the end of lunch. Aysha flopped on her bed, toying with the phone cord. She flipped over to her belly and I watched her lazily crossing her calves as she told me the story of how the rest of her day went. Her company event had sucked, she said, and she'd only survived by buddying it up with one of the power executives who's main goal was to consume every possible drink combination that they could think of. An hour later, he was toasted and she was buzzing. Then he started making lewd comments and pawing at her, so she decided to leave. The guy was old and gross, she said. 'Yeah,' I sympathized, 'it's better to leave that kind of thing to younger, better-looking, better-trained perverts.'

'Like you,' she offered. 'Naw,' I confessed, 'I'm still only a level 3 letch. I haven't perfected my catcalls yet.' She asked how my evening had gone, and I bored her for a few minutes. The only excitement, I told her, was catching some coeds flashing their boobs at the window earlier. The only thing that came close after that was staring at the porn channels, wondering if I could will it to suddenly unscramble for me. Aysha laughed and announced that channel 37 had a good x-flick going 'wanna come over and watch it with me?' I was stunned, and stumped for something to say. 'Hell, yes' came to mind, but I think I just said something like 'uh...' and before I could form some... y'know, better words, she burst out 'I'm kidding!' and laughed. 'Nuts,' I thought. But instead, I said 'nuts.' Doh. Here I was spying on this gorgeous chick who was laying on her bed in her underwear and trying to flirt over the phone at the same time. Watching her was totally distracting me away from the conversation. It's a good thing she laughed even more because I seriously didn't mean to say it out loud.

'So what are you doing now?' she asked. Okay, focus, I told myself. 'Watching you from my window with my dick in my hand?' Mmmmm, naw, better come up with something else. 'Just flipping channels and looking for something interesting' I told her. 'What are you up to' I asked, 'Channel 37?' She was on her back. I saw her arch her back to look at the tv upside down... man, it made her breasts point towards the ceiling... totally sexy pose. 'Umm..' she was saying 'No, I think it's channel 41 now.' Then she reached for the remote and turned the tv off and the room suddenly went dark. Aaauugh. 'No!' I blurted out. 'Leave it on. I...' and I just froze in mid-sentence. I heard her say 'what?' but I couldn't get any words out. 'I... I... I mean' I couldn't think of what to say. I just stuttered for a second and then there was nothing but silence. 'What did you just...' I heard her stop mid-sentence and I could feel her retracing our conversation. I was frantically trying to think of a way out. Damn, major screw up. I could hear the sound of my own breathing in my ear... which was bad, because that meant so could she. I started to wonder if she'd hung up because there was no sound whatsoever coming from the line now. Then she said, in a low voice, 'were you watching me?' I tried, but couldn't figure out from her tone if she was pissed or freaked or what. Man, total shame washed over me. 'Uhm,' with nothing else to go on, I just admitted everything 'Yes. I could see into your room.'

When I was like, 10 years old, I got caught by my favorite aunt stealing a dollar from her purse. The shame was complete. The feeling was exactly how I remembered, only this was ten times worse because I was 3 times older now. 'You were watching me? How, how could y.. where are you?' Aysha asked. Okay, well, she was pissed. I suppose that's better than freaked out... maybe. Oh, shit. In response, I grabbed the remote and flicked on the tv behind me... well, first I pulled my sweats back on. Then I walked closer to the window and stood there staring at her darkened room. 'I'm sorry for spying on you, Aysha' I said. I was. I felt terrible. I wanted to say more, but anything else would've sounded like a lame justification for being a pervert... which, y'know would've all been true. So I just waited in silence. After what seemed like a long time, her room was lit up by her tv again. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, facing me, and was wearing a robe over herself. She stood up and approached her window trailing the phone cord after her. I was glad just to still be talking. 'Why?' was all she said. I took a deep breath and just let it all out. I started rambling about the flashing coeds and the horny couple and excitement of secretly watching, and then of recognizing her and being totally enchanted by her. I apologized again and again for spying because I really enjoyed meeting her. She was fun. She made me laugh. She was the one bright spot of the whole trip, I told her. The whole time I was rambling, she didn't say a word. This went on for what felt like hours... me, just talking... to myself for all I knew. It was in the middle of another round of confession/apologies that she interrupted me by saying 'did it turn you on?' It was barely a whisper. I caught myself from asking 'what?' in time. She wouldn't repeat something like that and I would've just been stalling. Instead, I just admitted 'yes, Aysha, it totally turned me on to watch you.'