An Unplanned Affair

Michelle Moecha was a corporate event planner based out of Washington, DC who specialized in operating meetings for associations. Her current event, a grueling four day technology conference in Las Vegas with more than 2,000 attendees, was winding down.

She finished the late evening post-conference wrap up soon after the last of the attendees left the ballroom to make their way to explore the forbidden pleasures that Vegas has to offer. She said good-bye to her conference services manager and headed up to her room to relax in a much needed hot bath and to face-time her husband and her two girls.

On the walk to the elevator she noted that the hotel was filling up. She had arrived the Sunday prior and weekend crowd was returning to the Strip for another weekend of mostly harmless decadence. Five nights in Vegas was three more than she would have liked. She had survived however and another successful conference was in the books. She was leaving on an early flight the next morning and would be at her house before the girls got home from school.

She stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the 36th floor, and glanced around the elevator. To her right stood an overweight, sixty-something guy, with grey hair cut short, wearing what looked like a black bowling shirt. He had his arm around the waist of a twenty-something blonde in a tight, sequined mini-skirt. He reeked of cigar smoke. She of cheap perfume. A john and his prostitute, Michelle figured. On her left was an elderly couple. The gentleman had his polyester slacks pulled a bit too high. The white belt cinched tight. A light blue ball cap covered his head. His wife, she assumed it was his wife, was wearing comfortable looking blue pants, a white blouse with an American flag pin over her heart. She was also dragging a bottle of oxygen with her. Two tubes connecting the bottle to her nostrils.

The elevator stopped at floor 22. The doors opened and the sixty-something guy and his "date" got off.

"Is that what YOU did on your 'guys' trips here?" she overheard the elderly woman say to her husband when the doors closed.

He did not answer. The elevator dinged. Floor 36. The doors opened, she stepped off and into the hallway. Room 3669 was to the right, six doors down, on the left. She slid the plastic card into the door, waited for the green light, and pushed the door open. The room was spacious. Not the largest suite at Caesars but very respectable. Its sanctuary almost made the week of 16 hour work days bearable. She dropped her bag on the credenza and plopped herself onto the bed. She sat for a second and then let herself fall back and close her eyes. She was definitely in need of a recharge. After a few minutes of laying in silence she sat up and kicked off her shoes, grabbed her iPad, tapped the face-time icon, then favorites, then 'Babe'. Her image appeared on her screen as it read 'connecting'. She recoiled just a bit as she noticed how worn out she looked. Her hair was a mess and her makeup needed some attention.

"MOM" the girls said in unison," we miss you SO MUCH".

"I miss you guys' too." she replied, "I can't wait to see you tomorrow!"

"Will you be here when we get home from school?" the younger one asked.

"I will." she replied, "do you want to sit in the hot tub?"

"Yes, we can talk about our birthday." the little one said.

"Mom, did you eat at the buffet?" the older sister asked.

"No honey. I haven't had time this trip. I would really like to though." she replied.

"Girls, it's late and you have school tomorrow. I just wanted to say good night and that I love you and that I can't wait to see you tomorrow." she continued.

"Okay mom, we love you too." they replied in unison, "do you wanna talk to dad?"

"Yes, is he there?" she asked.

"Yeah, here he is, we love you mom, see you tomorrow."

"Love you too, bye."

"Hey Sweetie." her husband said, "How'd the conference end up?"

"Ahh, it was great, but I am spent." she responded.

"Well, you should celebrate a little. Could you refresh and rally, for at least a drink or two?" he asked.

"I'm definitely planning a long, hot bath." she said "If I feel a little better after that, we'll see."

"A girl's got needs." He said "just make sure that you show up back in Maryland refreshed and refocused. In every way..."

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"Nothing Sweetheart, I'm just saying that you just worked your ass off and finished a kickass event. It's your last night in Sin City, you should enjoy yourself a little bit." he stated.

"Whatever Babe" she exasperates "your mixed, subliminal messages crack me up sometimes. Anyway, that bath is calling my name. I LOVE YOU and I can't WAIT to see you tomorrow."

"I love you too." he replies "Text me when you are through security at the airport."

"I will. Love you. Good night."

"Love you too. G'night."

She tapped the end button, tilted her head, grinned, shook her head and let out a little laugh.

"He's such a dork sometimes." she said aloud to no one.

She walked into the large bathroom and pushed back the heavy shower curtain. She turned the bath faucet to hot and felt it with the back of her hand. When it started to get hot she adjusted the plug so that the bath began to fill. She reached into the amenity basket for the bubble bath, opened the small bottle, and emptied the contents into the stream of hot water filling the bathtub. Satisfied that she would soon have a hot bath full of bubbles to soak in she got up and walked into the main room and over to the small fridge which holds the minibar. She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay. She reached for one of the wine glasses and set it on the credenza. She screwed the cap off of the wine and poured the golden liquid into the glass, took a sip, and set it back on the credenza.

She unbuttoned her pants and pulled them part way down, shimmied a bit, let them drop to the floor, and stepped out. She sat on the bed and pulled off her socks, first the left, then the right, tossing them into the corner of the room next to her suitcase. She stood and unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it off, and tossed it next to her socks. Next was her bra. She unclipped the front, pulled her arms though, and gave it a toss to join the rest of her garments in the corner. She stood, alone in her room, naked. She raised both arms over her head and stretched.

"Ohhh, this is what momma needs." she said to no one.

She grabbed her glass of KJ, walked to the bathroom, and stepped into the bath. The water was hot on her feet. She rolled her toes and then bent at the knees, dipping her thighs and her ass into the water. She put her hands on the bottom of the tub, sat, and then slid her body beneath the bubbles. The hot water felt incredible. She could feel the stress of the long, hard, work week melt out of body. The cool, oaky, chardonnay was the perfect complement to the citrusy bubble bath. She was completely relaxed for the first time in a long time. She began to soap her body, her arms, her breasts, her stomach, her legs, her thighs, and her pussy. She felt a slight charge of excitement as her thoughts drifted to sex. She leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes.

She got out of the tub, dried herself, stepped to the mirror, and grabbed her makeup bag.

"It is my last night in Vegas. I did just pull off a kickass event. And I do deserve a little 'fun'." She said to the mirror.

She applied her makeup taking it beyond the conservative look that she generally wore. Dark, smoky eyes. A darker shade of red on the lips. Glossy. An extra spray of perfume. Then she thought of the twenty-something, likely, prostitute in the elevator and gave another spray. And she smiled into the mirror. She walked to the closet.

"Jeans and a cute top are not going to do it tonight." She said to no one.

She reached for her little black dress. Not as sexy as she was feeling but it worked. It would show some leg and she could rock her black heels that she brought along and hadn't worn. She decided against wearing panties. More dangerous. More risqué. Which was how she was feeling. She did grab her favorite pushup bra, however. She wanted to show off as much cleavage as her naturally perky breasts would allow. She walked back to the minibar. Refreshed her wine, took a sip, set it down, and finished getting dressed. She finished her wine and stepped to the mirror.

"Damn, you clean up well!" she said to herself. "Now let's go see if we can get into a little trouble."

She left the room and headed down to the casino. She didn't really enjoy gambling, didn't feel quite energetic enough for dancing, though she wished she did, so she made her way to the cocktail bar. It was a pretty good sized crowd but there were a few open seats at the bar. She chose a seat next to a younger guy in jeans and a black button down shirt, untucked. She got the bartenders attention by making eye contact and flashing a 100 dollar bill in the air. He walked over to her.

"May I help you." he asked.

"Perhaps...." she replied coyly "but first I'd like a drink. Do you have Vanilla Stoli?"

"Yeah, we have pretty much everything." he replied with a smile.

"Great. I would LOVE a Stoli Vanilla with ginger ale. And a strong pour would be appreciated. It's been a LONG week." she said flirtatiously.

"Sure thing." he said as he laughed and smiled back.

She looked up and down the bar. The young guy next to her was definitely checking her out, but he was TOO young. Twenty-five, tops. They'd have nothing in common and nothing to talk about. Buuuuuut, he did have a hard body, which could have been fun, at least for a little while. A few seats over were some locals, maybe off duty card dealers and cocktail servers. They were playing video poker and drinking dark liquor. Further down the bar there looked to be one, maybe two 'professionals'. Prostitutes. Not as obvious as the street corner hookers, but after five days in Sin City, she could spot the look pretty easy now. No one was really catching her eye; no one was igniting her panty-less pussy.

"Here you go Ma'am." the bartender said as he places the highball glass of vodka and mixer in front of her. "Would you like to keep the tab open?"

"Put this on my tab." An unseen man standing behind her said as he hands the bartender his Black American Express. "A woman this sexy should not be paying for her own drinks."

Surprised, she turned to get a look at the person that this arm and voice belonged to. A surge of excitement pulsed through her and she felt weak as he came into focus. He was gorgeous. Tall, over six feet. Dark hair combed back a couple inches above his neck line. Dark brown eyes. She couldn't quite tell if he was Latin, Middle Eastern, or Southern European. He was wearing a dark grey suit, white shirt, black tie with a silver/grey weave pattern, black leather shoes with buckles.

"Hello, my name is Andre." he said.

"Hi, I'm Michelle." was all that she could reply. The confidence that she was showing on the bartender suddenly vanished and she was weak with desire in the face of this sexy, confident, specimen.

"Well, Michelle, I noticed you when you alighted the elevator and crossed the casino." he said. "I was playing black jack over there and growing bored of losing dollars."

"Render unto Caesar what is Caesars." she replied, her confidence rebounding somewhat from the shock.

"Ha ha, yes, good one. You may be what I thought after-all, Michelle." he said.

"Bartender, do you have any Sherry....from Andalusia." he stated loudly.

"We have pretty much everything, including Sherry from Spain." the bartender replied.

"Please bring me a bottle of your best. And two glasses." Andre said.

Michelle squirmed slightly in her chair and bit her lower lip. This was all too real. Was she crossing a line? Her husband did encourage her to have fun. What were his words? 'In every way'? Damn, she thought, Andre WAS sexy. A dream. She would like to have him 'in every way".

Michelle had finished her vodka by the time the sherry arrived. Andre poured her a glass and then himself.

"To you, a beautiful woman, with passion in her eyes, and sexy in her stride." he said.

"And you. A man in a city full of boys." she replied

They drank the sherry and openly flirted. He laughed deeply at her straight forward banter. She was not embarrassed when he moved the conversation to a sexual manner. In fact, she surprised him with her openness and her understanding. He touched her left arm with his right hand. Subtle. He reached out grabbed her bicep, slid his hand down to her elbow, then under her forearm, eventually taking her hand. She did not pull her hand away.

When the bottle was empty, Andre stood, turned her chair to face him, grabbed both of her hands, and tilted his head to the right.

"Shall we take this party upstairs?" he asked with the confidence of a man who already knew the answer.

"I hope that you are staying on one of the low floors, 'cause I'm not sure I can last until the penthouse." she replied.

"Bartender, close my bill to the same Amex that I used to pay for the ladies vodka. Add a 30% tip for yourself. We must leave now." he stated as he turned, keeping her left hand in his right, and pulled her towards the elevator bank.

When they got to the elevator she pressed the up button. The bell dinged and the door opened. They walked in. He guided her into the elevator with his right hand on the small of her back. He reached over a pressed 43. Damn, she thought, had to be a high floor. There were a few other couples in the elevator. A couple of college guys drunk and pissed off that they had lost all their money and it was only Thursday. A middle aged African American couple was holding hands. He wore a purple velour sweat suit. She was in black capris, a gold sleeveless top, and shiny, gold heels.

The college guys exited on the 12th floor, the African American couple on 23. After they stepped out, once the door closed, Andre turned, reached behind her with his left hand and pulled her into him. She was pressed against his body. He had an athletic, fit feel. He looked into her eyes for a moment and then reached his right hand behind her head, running his fingers through her hair and pulling her head towards his. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and parted her lips slightly. The anticipation was electric. He stopped just before his lips touched hers. They were mere centimeters apart. She could feel his slow breaths on her lips. She could smell his scent mixed with a generous dose of sweet, musk cologne. Not expecting the pause, she opened her eyes. His eyes were close to hers. They were deep, soft, and dark. He leaned closer and put his mouth on hers. She felt herself go slightly limp. He held her firmly in his strong arms. His lips were magical, soft yet firm at the same time. His kisses were wet, but not overly so. Not sloppy. She reached her hands to his face sliding her fingers a bit behind his head pulling his face deeper into her kiss. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, biting it ever so softly. She was so turned on. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. For a brief moment she worried that she had no panties to capture the moisture. Then her desire intensified and the moment passed. He pulled back.

"That was nice." he said "you are an incredible sexy lady, Michelle. And that was but a 'tapa poquita', an appetizer you might say, for what lay in store for you in my suite."

"You are pretty damn sexy yourself, Andre." she replied collecting herself and straightening her little black dress.

The elevator dinged. They had arrived at the 43rd floor. The doors opened and Andre gestured for her to exit. He followed with his right hand low on her back, just at the top of her perfectly curved ass. They walked all the way down the hall, past 9 or 10 rooms before stopping in front of 4322.

"22 is my lucky number." she said before he slid the card into the door.

"It sure is Guapa, it sure is." he replied as he slid the card and pressed the door open.

The suite was amazing. Huge. In the center of the room was a king sized bed, turned down, with a chocolate on each pillow. Further into the room one stepped down to the sitting area. There was a mahogany desk, a love-seat, and a coffee table appointed with the typical 'What's On Vegas' magazines. Along the back wall were two large plate glass windows on either side of a sliding glass door that opened to a large balcony overlooking the Las Vegas Strip.

"I didn't think these hotels had rooms that opened to the outside." she said "I love this! I get so sick of the pumped in air. I need fresh."

"Most don't." he replied "but for a price, anything is available in this town."

"You haven't asked me my price." she said demurely with an innocent smile.

"I made my down payment in the elevator, mi dulce." he replied with a devilish grin.

"A drink, my sweet?" he asked slyly changing the subject. "I have a wonderful reserve rioja. It's from a family vineyard.

"Oh, I don't know if I should. Not to wise to accept drinks from a stranger. What if you slipped me something?" she played.

"Oh, but I do plan to slip you something my sweet, only it will not be a drug in your drink." he played back.

He walked to the bar, grabbed the bottle and the wine opener, and uncorked the wine. He over turned two large wine glasses and filled them with the rioja. He handed her a glass and tipped his in her direction.

"To exploring passions." he toasted.

"To new pleasures with new friends." she countered.

She cupped the glass with her right hand and put her left under the stem. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. The subtle flavors of the sweet fruit exploded in her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored the sip, savored the moment. When she opened her eyes Andre had returned his glass to the bar. He then reached for hers, taking it and placing it on the bar.

He took her hand and led her next to the bed. He reached his left hand behind her head and, while pulling her head to his, he reached his right hand to her chin and guided her lips to his. She melted into his kiss. Sensing this he kissed her more deeply. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth. He wasn't stiffly probing but softly exploring. Her lips. Her tongue. Her teeth. He gently pulled on her hair with his left hand pulling her lips from his and her head back. He then went to work on her neck. Kissing. Licking.

She couldn't stand it much longer. Her excitement bordered on frantic. Rubbing her hands over his suit jacket was not enough. She pulled it off. His white shirt looked good. The top two buttons were undone showing his tanned chest with just a bit of dark hair. She could feel his excitement grow as he pressed against her. She was on autopilot. She reached down, between his legs, and grabbed the crotch of his suit pants. His dick was semi-erect. It felt big. Not porn star huge, but a bit bigger, at this state, than her husband. She couldn't wait to feel it fully aroused. To see it. To taste it. She rubbed him, she pulled on him. He grew harder.

Andre reached down and hiked her dress above her hips while she stood, still in his embrace. Beneath her dress she was naked. He smiled and let out a short, sexy laugh.

"You are a naughty girl, Michelle." he said "Me gusta, I like it."

She pushed him just away, reached down, and finished pulling her dress over her head. Then she reached up, unhooked her bra and let it drop. She stood before him completely bare. Free. She bit her lower lip and gave him a wanton stare. He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled and pulled off his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and let them drop. He wore checkered boxers. He unbuttoned his white shirt but left it on. He pulled off his socks and walked to her.