Cold

Well, this is my first submission ever, and though I have ideas for other stories, this is the one that is short enough for a quick read, so I thought I'd try it first. I'd appreciate it very much if you would take the time to review. Thanks for reading!

----------------------------------------

She swallowed, nervous, although she really had no reason to be. It wasn't as if he were different from any other man she had slept with. It wasn't as if, when he dropped his pants, she would find anything other than the standard balls, penis, and pubic hair snaking up his belly.

He'd kept himself in good shape all these years, she appraised with the eye of a woman comparing a couch with the one she had at home. There was no longer a six pack, but the stomach was flat, and though the biceps had shrunk, his arms still looked strong. She had made quick work of the t-shirt, of the belt, and now she had paused for a second, wondering if this was really what she wanted to do.

"Come on..." he said, his voice rough, his chin jutting out, as if it were a challenge.

She grinned, hooked her two pointers under her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Women killed to look like this at thirty-five. High proud breasts, tiny little waist, warm flaring hips. He roller her over, kissing her hard, his tongue finding the grooves on the roof of her mouth. She ran her own tongue underneath his, raising her hips and finding that place that made a man want to drive himself to suicide. He leaned on one arm and snaked the other between them, unbuttoning first his jeans, and then her skirt.

She could feel his erection, straining to get closer to her, to get inside her. His fingers nearly tore off her bra, and then his rough warm hands were cupping her breasts, his warm mouth sucking her nipples into his mouth. She moaned, wrapping her bare legs around him, griding deeper, trying to get him to the right place—hard.

She'd recognized him immediately in the lobby. He'd grinned embarrassedly at her. She remembered that expression well—it was so fucking endearing. He'd lift his right arm to the back of his neck, squint his eyes, and tilt his head to the left. "Heya," he'd said.

"Hey hon, long time, no see."

"No kiddin'"

She'd taken in the difference between them—he was obviously part of the hotel staff, and she was obviously a professional, in her tall heels, her white shirt and business skirt, her stockings and breifcase. She considered her move for a moment. He was as handsome as ever, age improving his looks, though he wasn't nearly as buff as he had been in college. "Wanna get a drink?" she asked finally. "I'll buy you a beer or whatever it is men drink nowadays."

He smiled. "Still beer. Till the end of time."

And now they were here, and he was hard, and it was time.

She flipped him over, straddling him. His eyebrows rose at the change in position, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Hey," he said, with a sexy, mischeivous grin. "I should get behind you."

She grinned back. Not a chance, she though, but instead, she yanked down his underwear and curled her hand around his shaft. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Or that," he groaned. She dug in her purse until she found her go to condom, and ripped it open with her teeth. It only took her a second to get the damn thing on, and then she kissed him again, letting her nipples brush his chest. She didn't even bother taking off her underwear. Instead, she shoved them to the side, positioned him, and slid him into her.

He groaned in pleasure, and she sighed. She'd missed his impressive length, his girth. Although she'd had better sex, she hadn't yet met a man who'd been quite as big as him. As long, yes, as thick, yes, but never both. And now, she raised herself up, thrusting her breasts out, and began to move.

Oh yes, she thought...she'd forgotten how damn full she felt with him inside her. A perfect fit—tight and hard and sopping at the same time. God, this was wonderful...

He opened his eyes and couldn't stop staring at the site—the beautiful, pert breasts bouncing wildly, her stomach, her hips, the fingers on her clit. She wasn't as tight as she used to be, but damn, she was still as wet and hot. He reached for those breasts, and she used her other hand to instead position on hand on her hips, and the other on her clit, to replace hers. Then she pulled him up to a sitting position and forced his mouth to her breast.

She knew exactly what she wanted from him. She knew that he knew how to suck that tit, how to swirl the nipple exactly how she liked it. And at this particular angle, every stroke was hitting that sweet spot, and his hands were doing excellent work on that clit. She felt the waves of pleasure running through her, and she smiled. "Do the other one," she said, the first thing that she had said so far. He switched nipples, and she threw her head back and kept her motion going. This was perfect, oh god...perfect.

"Harder," she commanded, still in the same breathy tone, and his fingers massaged harder, twisting her clit, biting her nipple, reaching up to sqeeze the other breast with her hand. He could hardly believe his luck. He wasn't sure why she had insisted in using the floor of the unisex bathroom, but since he knew the janitor had just mopped the floor, and that not many people used the third floor, he'd agreed, and he was fucking glad. This felt amazing...he could feel his body reaching for the best orgasm he'd had in years.

And suddenly she came.

It was as abrupt as their meeting—her body arched into him one last time, and he felt her muscles spasm. He wasn't surprised. She'd been ridiculously turned on, and he'd been hitting all her sweet spots at the same time—nipple, clit, and cunt. What surprised him was when she slid off of him.

"Want me get behind you now?" he said, grinning again.

"Hm. Not really." She pulled her shirt back on, and reached for her skirt.

"What?" he was confused, of course.

"I got what I wanted."

She stood, puller her skirt back on, and checked her hair in the mirror.

"Bye, hon," she said, stepping back into her heels, turning, and exiting the bathroom.

It wasn't like sex was a competition. But really—it was all that was left to prove. She looked better than him, she made more money than him, and now—she came faster than him. She smiled, wondering if he were remembering every night that they had been together in college, when he had left her in the same condition. She wondered if he remembered that night that she caught him cheating, and then claimed it was her fault for not being better in bed. He'd thought he'd made a good point.

Well, fucking counterpoint, she thought, sliding her card into her own room, closing the door and heading straight for the shower.

Revenge is best served cold.

------------------------------------------

Again, I'd love it if you reviewed.