Millennium Hotel

At the Hilton Millennium Hotel next to the twin towers of the World Trade Center, I attended a small business conference....

The Networld Conference and Exhibition of 1986 was smaller then than it is now. I worked for a Dallas manufacturer exhibiting that year for the second time, but with the thought that if traffic was slow again we would not come back.

Sure enough, the first day was slow--painfully boringly slow. My sales colleague who was assigned to work the exhibit with me took off after only a couple of hours. I stood and talked to the few prospects that wandered by until my feet hurt. Wanting to look "Eastern" I had left my comfortable mule skin boots at home and wore lace-up wingtips that were like torture devices. Our team of marketing experts had not thought to provide our booth with a chair or two.

Across the broad isle was a larger exhibit of electronic networking products from a big east coast company. Most of their salesmen were young slicked down MBA types. They had two saleswomen. One was an ice queen, an untouchable booth babe acting very professional. The other was a rather homely older woman, probably in her late forties. She was a little older than I was then, but she looked even older.

She dressed kind of dowdy wearing low-heeled practical shoes and a JC Penney dark red tailored suit with a silky ruffled blouse. Her brown hair was cut very close. She was short and quite thin, but the way she dressed and her hair cut made her seem even smaller. To complete the dowdy look, she wore thick glasses in extremely large frames. Made her eyes look huge. However, she had a friendly smile—and she was in a booth with chairs!

Wandering across the isle, I engaged her with some small talk about the show and the lack of customers. She invited me to sit, and I was happy to accept. We sat and talked until the show crawled to an end.

After closing up our exhibit, I headed for the big doors exiting the exhibit area. As I was getting on the escalator to the hotel lobby, the little woman stepped on behind me, tugged my jacket, and asked if I had dinner plans.

I explained that I had left the evening open in the expectation of having dinner with a prospect, but the few I spoke with that day had other plans. So, no, I had no plans. She was pleasant enough, but not exciting in any sense of the word: Nothing to look at and not much of an intellect, but dining alone was not very attractive either.

I suggested eating in the hotel. Everyone I knew would be going out on the town—you know, New York, New York! Not that I would be embarrassed to be seen with her—no, it was exactly because I would be embarrassed to be seen with her. Definitely a low prestige dinner companion, but undemanding.

An uninspiring hotel meal followed by a glass of sweet wine was enough for me, and I started wriggling-out to go to my room to catch the second half of Monday Night Football. She asked me to go to the hotel bar with her instead where I could watch the game while she had another drink and a smoke.

The game was between two inept teams I cared nothing about. I smoked one of her cigarettes and ordered a single malt...and then another.

You've heard this part before: about half way through the second drink, she started looking better. Her tailored suit was not exactly revealing, but I could see her slender and nicely shaped legs. The top two buttons of her blouse somehow had been opened without my immediate notice. She put her glasses in her purse, and I saw that her normally shaped eyes were a pretty blue.

By this time she had told me her entire life's story. But I had only listened to part of it, and I was not really listening to her when she started telling about her divorce. I hate to hear people talk about their divorce. I was trying to think of something to say that would politely get me out of there, when she started telling me about her sexual relationship with her attorney.

I had always suspected that women and their lawyers became intimate in the reckoning of power and lust that ends a marriage, but I had never heard anyone actually admit it. I was intrigued.

She told me that when she last visited him to sign the final papers that concluded the dreams of her youth, leaving her husband broke and homeless, she crawled across his office on her hands and knees, sucked his dick while he sat in his big leather chair, and then let him fuck her as she bent over his desk looking down at her settlement. I looked at her intensely and noticed that she was beginning to look a little like Jean Seaberg.

A lot of questions came to mind, and I asked them. She answered in plain English. The alcohol may have loosened her inhibitions somewhat, but I suspected that I was just experiencing her natural state—rather lusty. I could see, once more, what fools men are when it comes to sex. This rather plain little woman could manipulate more powerful men to her will by the skillful deployment of nothing more than her availability.

Suddenly she said that she was ready to turn in, bid me good night, paid the bar bill and was gone. I stared at the TV for a few minutes then moved heavily toward the elevators.

When I got to my room, my head was throbbing so I searched through my shaving kit for an aspirin. There are never aspirin in my kit, but I looked anyway. The phone rang. It was Jean Seaberg's look-alike.

She said that she had opened the curtains to her room and was surprised to see that she had a spectacular view of the World Trade Center Towers just across the way. She asked if I would like to see it. I glanced out my window, which looked at somedark office building or other.

"Sure," I said. "Do you have an aspirin?"

"Have a headache? Come to 2429. Twenty-fourth floor," she said. "I will have something for you."

A lot happens in the scenery between the 5th and the 24th floors. When she opened her door to my muffled knock, I could see beyond her wide opened curtains the sparking lights of lower Manhattan and beyond to the New Jersey shore. The view was made more brilliant by the dimness of her room.

She was still in her suit skirt, but her shoes were off and her jacket tossed across one of the room's two chairs. She looked composed deeply set in the small hotel sofa with her bare feet resting on the other chair. I sat in the only place left, next to her. Her silhouette was dark against the lights of the tower of offices not far away. My senses were filled with the dark bouquet of tobacco, bourbon, and perfume—and perhaps a subliminal aroma that made my neck and shoulders grow thick with anticipation.

"Look over there," she said.

I looked. "At what?"

"Someone's having a party."

I looked again. At about the same level not far away in one of the WTC towers a large group was crowded into a conference room. "I think they are part of this conference," she said. I stood up and walked over to the large window—which wasn't actually a window but a sliding glass door. There was one of those little fake balconies that you could not stand on even if you could get through the glass door that would open only six inches. I opened the door the full six inches to hear the sounds of the city. I thought I might be able to hear the party, but they were insulated in their personal tower and we were in ours. Those people did not convince me that they were having fun in their business suits and nametags. Everyone seemed to be posturing like actors.

I felt her hands stroking my neck, not a massage, just an up and down stroke. She kept her hands moving up and down as she moved them down my arm to my hands.

"Your headache..." she started to say. I had forgotten about it. Testosterone surges must cure headaches. She stopped in mid sentence and lifted her face. We kissed. "Take you coat off."

I did. As I loosened my tie to remove it, she knelt in front of me continuing to stroke my body until she reached the beginning of an erection that would last for several hours.

Using both her small hands she guided my cock into her mouth, and soon my flesh was glistening in the wet city lights. My hardness seemed no longer flesh, but a stone buttress holding our bodies erect. I had never felt a woman's mouth to be this smooth, and her stroking hands satisfied my thrusts as though fully inside her.

The thought came to me that I could come easily, just by thinking it. She sensed my approaching and squeezed my cock as hard as she could. It felt wonderful--the pressure of my blood backing up made my ears roar.

She stood quickly and without added motion her skirt fell to the floor. Still in her slip and blouse, she started pulling at my clothes as though she were a starving woman. I tried to step out of my shoes, but she had my pants down around my ankles before I could. Then she was trying to pull my shirt over my head without unbuttoning it. She pushed me toward the bed. I couldn't move my feet fast enough and fell hitting the bed only partially and falling to the floor. She straddled my legs plunging my dick back into her wet mouth. Then she raised her slip showing me her small dark and panty-less mound. Slowly she placed the swollen head of my over inflated cock against her wet pussy and slowly sat back on it until I was almost completely inside her--But not quite. I could feel the end of her passage. There was no more to go. She pushed down hard. Too hard! She twinged with a sharp pain, and fell forward onto my chest. I grabbed the tail of her blouse and it easily came over her head. I felt for the hook to her bra, but could not find one. She raised herself without pushing down on my shaft and looked down at me. "Let's get in bed," I said.

On one knee she lifted her other leg and slid up and off me. But instead of going to the bed, she went to the window. "Fuck me over here," she said softly.

My shoes and socks, shirt and tie, pants and shorts were all off in a staccato of movement as I approached her with my erection wagging in front of me. She turned around to look out the window, pressed her body against the glass, and raised her slip above her hips. She arched her back offering me entry, but her pussy was several inches below my cock, which was so engorged that it hurt. I lifted her.

She was so light. I lifted her higher pressing her harder onto the glass. I reached over her and pulled her bra up over her small breasts. Her arms were raised over her head as she was fully pressed against the window. Even with her feet off the floor, it was easy to hold her in place while I enjoyed the slick smoothness inside her and the feeling of power holding her up to the view of the self-absorbed partygoers across the space of a few hundred feet.

I pounded her hard. The window rattled noisily. She could not possibly have been comfortable, but she made no sound. I held her against the glass and withdrew. I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bed. She could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds. I dropped her onto the bed.

She fell limply her legs open her arms again above her head, her eyes burning and fixed on mine. Without holding or guiding my very rigged tool, I lowered myself on her and my cock slid easily, directly, into her waiting open body.

I fucked her roughly, holding her under her knee with one hand and her shoulder with the other, I shook her violently under me forcing my cock into her deeper and deeper until my pubic bone was rasping her clitoris. She came loudly, crying, gasping. She held her breath then released the pressure with a low moan. Then she could not breath at all. She pushed against my chest frantic to fill her lungs. I rolled off.

Taking a deep breath she returned to my lubricated penis with her hungry mouth. Both hands again. I had wanted to come when she did--or soon after. So this seemed like the right time. She was sucking me so that I could come in her mouth, wasn't she? The little keystones in my mind were falling in place. I could feel my prostate swelling. I was going to shoot a load in her mouth and really enjoy it.

But she could feel it too, and stopped. I was ready to force her to take me back in her mouth, but she slipped out of my grasp, and again straddled me holding my cock in her hands in front of her belly. Stroking, stroking, not enough for release, but felt very good, and the sight was wonderful.

"Don't you want me to come in your mouth?" I asked.

"You can later...maybe...but I want to come again before you are through," she said in almost a whisper.

Again she leaned forward and placed the plum of my cock slowly into her. This time she was able to take all of me, although I could feel the hard shape of her uterus at the end of her warm sleeve. She started rocking back and forth rubbing her clitoris on my pubis. When I looked at her small abdomen I thought I could see my cock pressing against her skin. I put my hand on her little round belly and I could easily feel my hard member up past where it ought to be. It was almost to her navel. I put my other hand on her back and pressed my hands together feeling the pressure on my dick. I was delirious. I needed a distraction to keep from coming, so I was not thinking about her but NFL standings when she started swirling her hips in circles and forcing her cervix over the hard end of my penis over and over again.

"Oh, yes," she said. "Hurt me. Hurt me." She was doing it. I was just watching. It kind of hurt me too, but she kept swirling faster rhythmically and harder then suddenly stopped. She paused like a bird at the zenith of her flight just before turning back toward the earth. Then her thin little body started jerking in spasms falling forward onto my chest. She was breathing hard and crying again. My dick hurt, but I really wanted to come.

After a few minutes, I rolled her off me. She lay motionless next to me. I got on top of her and inserted my deserving dick into her no longer tight hole. Her pussy lips were swollen and tender. She didn't move.

I pushed her legs together and stroked in and out of her hole using her wet thighs like an extension of her pussy. I began to feel the growing pulsations. I could feel the system from my balls to the end of my cock getting ready to release. I pulled my cock out of her and holding it in my right hand I moved up to her face, and lifted her head with my left hand. She opened her mouth. I stroked my shaft once or twice and began to pulse. Boom! My come shot onto her face before I could get it in her mouth, but two more spasms of white juice went into her mouth. Then she started sucking the tip of my dick as I release two or three more diminishing loads. It was a thrilling sensation like she was sucking the juices directly from deep within my body.

We slept.

--0--

I can't remember this without also remembering the horror, but this is my memory of the once living New York World Trade Center, and I'm going to cling to it. Sorry if I offend anyone's sensibilities. I wrote this in September 2001, but out of respect I waited over five years to submit it.