East Bay Drive

Friday

Heather leaned against the window of the bus and watched the palm trees go by. Despite the icy air blasting from the vent above her, the glass was warm from the sun bearing down on it for the better part of three hours on their way to the Sandbar Hotel. At this point she could count the trees down to the end of the long drive to the front lobby of the hotel. Twenty... nineteen... eighteen...

"'A place to find yourself,'" Coach Mac said from next to her on the seat, throwing off her count. "Seems like a bit of a weird slogan for a hotel? Why would we need to find ourselves? We know where we are, we're at their freaking hotel."

The man was trying way too hard to make a joke, as he had been for most of the bus trip. Mac was far too typical of a coach, a one time second-string football player who hadn't gotten picked up in the draft, had worked odd jobs for two decades, put on weight, then become a gym coach. Even back on the campus his every interaction with her seemed laser-focused on getting into her pants. He'd never said anything untoward to her, he had that going for him at least, but he seemed to not be able to take a hint.

Heather sat up and watched a family of tourists go by on the sidewalk - husband, wife, young daughter. The little girl looked happy as could be, not a care in the world as her vanilla ice cream melted all down her hand. Heather's eyes lingered on the sight before she looked up, over the shoulder of the charter bus driver at the front of the hotel.

It was an older place, one that had been built in the aftermath of the second World War when all beach property was prime real estate. The owners likely had bought this place for a few grand back then - it was worth millions now. The hotel was seven stories, painted a sun-baked pastel pink with white accents. Along the facade of the front were painted two massive marlins, their sword-like snouts thrusting upwards towards the rococo moldings that ran along the roof of the buildings. Despite the oldness of much of the buildings, Heather had been up close with a lot of the glass in the hotel, particularly an employees only area near the top. It was rated for hurricanes, tinted so that no passerby from either the street or the many helicopter tours around here could see in.

Mac gave up on trying to win her over with terrible humor, standing up and bracing himself on the back of the seat. "Alright men, listen up!"

Heather almost laughed. The way Mac treated his boys was some ridiculous drill sergeant bullshit that would never fly with the women's volleyball team that she coached. Then again, keeping twenty young women in line was probably a much different ballgame than forty odd hornball boys.

She looked back over her shoulder as Mac lectured his team. Only about half the players were actually paying attention to him, the remainder staring out the window like she had been, or keeping their heads bowed to tip tap away on their phones. One in particular drew her eye - the first-string quarterback Marquis. He was a handsome young man, strong jaw, dark brown skin, always very quiet and polite during the few times they'd interacted. But she'd seen him play, and he came alive when he laced up his cleats and stepped onto the field. She'd once heard an ESPN caster describe his throws as "Howitzer force."

Marquis turned his head in her direction, his dark brown eyes meeting hers. He nodded, then went back to looking out the window. Heather did the same as the bus rolled to a stop.

"You first?" Mac asked her.

She shrugged one shoulder. "This is your show, Mac. Get the boys off, I'll be right behind you."

Technically, on paper, Heather was with the football team as an additional chaperone. Ever since she'd taken an empty spot for a fitness instructors' seminar here a few months prior, she'd jumped at chances to come back here for a myriad of events. Normally she stayed outside of the football sphere, but with the team traveling to play an exhibition game on Saturday, and her having an urgent need to get out of the house for a few days, it had been a no-brainer to call the office and volunteer her services.

The football players filed past her one by one, and it was only when the last of them were off that Heather rose and stepped off the bus. The valets had already unloaded her bags along with the others, and hovering around like vultures, hoping for someone to slip them a couple bucks. She recognized a few - Austin, Vic, Kevin. All three of them had different reactions to her. Austin bit his lip and looked away, Vic pointedly went looking for something else to do the moment he saw her, and Kevin held steady eye contact with her, giving her a single eyebrow waggle before going to help another family unload their minivan. Heather kept her head held high as she dragged her suitcase along behind her.

The lobby was chaotic, a typical summer afternoon as families with kids tried to check in and get their screaming sprogs to the beach. As much as Heather loved her son Dante, she was so glad he had been a quiet boy and she hadn't had to keep him on a short leash, as the one frazzled middle-aged mother to her left was literally doing, the strap wrapped around her hand as she checked in, the toddler on the end of it trying desperately to get his mouth on the leafy lobby plants. They hadn't changed the decor much - the flowers on the table in the center of the space got replaced every week, and the columns by the doorway that the bellman used as leaning posts while they waited for luggage to help with remained bar, though Garrett the bellman had told her around Christmas they often wrapped garland around them.

"Kinda crazy in here, isn't it?"

Heather turned her head to see Marquis standing beside her. He could move like a panther apparently, despite wearing the kind of rubber sneakers that usually would squeak on the lobby floor. He'd done up his short dreadlocks with a rubber band behind his head.

"Yeah," Heather said. "It is. But that's late summer for you. Everyone gets one last vacation in."

Marquis laughed. "That's true. Always forget the public kids aren't back yet, when we've been back for weeks now."

"Are you doing alright so far? This is your senior year, right?"

He nodded. "So far, yeah. I got most of my hard classes out of the way last year by design." His fingers tapped the strap of his duffel bag. "Let's me focus on the team this fall and make a good impression on the scouts, you know?"

Heather gave him an approving nod. "Smart."

He beamed at her. "Thank you."

A moment passed between them where they looked at one another, neither saying anything. Heather wondered what the young man saw when he looked at her. Did he see the volleyball coach? The instructor? Or did he see the older woman who was still in very good shape for her late forties, who had intentionally worn a top cut just a tad shorter so that everyone could see the line of her cleavage, a bit of freckled overboob saying "look here, look here!", or the fact that she'd worn jeans in ninety degree heat because they lifted up her ass and made it look absolutely delicious?

She knew what others who worked here did, like Justin behind the front desk, who blushed out of reflex and moved to cover the wedding ring on his finger when he took notice of her standing there. They were all still here though, every last one so far, and nobody had been fired, nor had she been banned from the property.

"Heather!" Mac called. "Come here for a second."

She strode up behind the football coach. "What is it?"

"So apparently some dumbass in Reservations overbooked and now we have a problem," he said. "I got you an extra room so you could be on your own and not have any of the guys bothering you, but apparently some rewards club high roller is in the last of the single rooms this weekend." He glared at the young, flustered looking girl behind the counter. "You're sure there's nothing you can do?"

She shook her head hurriedly, making the small earrings she wore jitter from side to side. "N-no, sir. I'm so sorry!"

Mac chewed his lip. "Mind sleeping with, erm, scuse me, rooming with one of the guys in a two-bedroom for the weekend."

"Mac, we're all adults here," Heather said.

"Still..." He turned around again. "Marquis! Front and center."

The quarterback joined them. "Yes, Coach?"

"You're the only one I think is mature enough to handle this. Mind sharing a room with Heather for the next couple nights?"

Marquis' eyes flicked over to her for a moment, then he nodded. "No problem, Coach."

"There, see?" Heather said. "Easy fix."

Mac grumbled his way through the rest of the check-in process, finally getting an envelope of laminated room keys from the flustered looking front desk agent. As they walked away, Heather chanced a glance over her shoulder to see the agent walk into the back office. A moment later, another uniformed agent walked out to take her place.

Mac led the way to the elevators, and they got lost once, because of course they did. They had to go upstairs in two waves, and by the time Heather stepped off the elevator with Marquis by her side, most of the boys had already found their rooms and were heading inside. "You guys are on the end," Mac said, gesturing to the last room down the hallway.

"After you," Marquis said, holding the door open for her. The room was small and cozy, two queen beds jammed into a space the size of a small living room with a kitchenette and bathroom at the back.

"Little tight in here," Heather remarked. "Do you want the window bed?"

"Ehhhh, you pick," Marquis said.

"Back bed it is!" Heather declared, flopping down on her back on the bed further away from the window.

Marquis hefted his duffel onto the bed and unzipped it. Heather looked up, and among the flashes of day-glo athletic wear caught a glimpse of something very familiar. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't see that," she said, letting her head flop back down. "But, speaking off the record - you can get better champagne than that."

"Hey, you try keeping a bar stocked on a student athlete's paycheck!" Marquis laughed, dutifully tucking the bottle deep in the bottom part of his bag.

"That for if you win?"

"Mmm hmm." He withdrew a pair of workout shorts and a Nike tank top. "Gonna go hunt down a gym, they gotta have one here. Wanna come with?"

Heather shook her head. "I'm thinking beach, honestly. Gonna work on my tan."

"No worries." Marquis gave her a jaunty wave as he left, shutting the door behind him.

That had been the most normal conversation she'd ever had with him, possibly the most normal conversation she'd had in weeks. It felt weird, given that he was almost three decades her junior. Then again, it wasn't as though she and her husband didn't enjoy the company of a woman the same age on occasion. Although, she suspected her husband enjoyed Ruby on more than just an occasion.

She shook her head. She'd made a promise that she would relax this weekend and enjoy herself. The football game didn't concern her, the beach did. She'd had many a dalliance here over the past few months, this time she'd keep to herself, and not be bad like she had been.

Minutes ticked by of her staring at the ceiling, and she made no move towards her bag. "God dammit," she muttered. She took off her wedding ring, tucked it into the pocket of some shorts in her bag, then headed for the door.

The elevator was empty on the trip back down, and Heather leaned on the railing and watched the sun sink a little lower on the horizon. She knew the shifts changed in the evening, as the afternoon agents left and the night ones came in. Hopefully the young woman who had checked them in was leaving or close to it - Heather didn't want to miss her.

As luck would have it, she spotted the agent walking across the lobby with her purse slung over her shoulder, a bit of a haste in her step. Heather hadn't really gotten the full measure of her body. She was a slender thing, not much to speak of in the bust area but with wide hips and a butt that looked very fine in her khaki slacks. And was that a bit of panty line?

"Excuse me!" Heather called. "Miss!"

She had to repeat herself before the agent did a little half-turn. A bit of trepidation flickered across her face. "Hi, ma'am. What can I do for you?"

Heather clapped her hands together. "I wanted to find you and apologize for the way my colleague behaved. He's a bit of a dickhead and you didn't deserve that."

"Oh, it's-" It seemed like the woman was about to brush her off and say it was no problem, but she stopped herself, hesitated, then spoke again. "I appreciate that, ma'am."

"Can I buy you a coffee?" Heather asked, rubbing her fingers along her collarbone.

The agent's eyes flicked to her fingers for a brief moment. Bingo. "Sure, the lobby bar makes good stuff."

They got drinks - black coffee for Heather, Americano for the agent - and sat down at a table in the far corner. "I'm Heather, by the way."

"Jasmine," the young woman said as she sipped her coffee.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Oh, just a few months now," she said. She kept her fingers wrapped around the cup when it was sitting on the table, as if she wanted to keep hold for ease of sipping. "I'm starting classes again soon next week."

"What's your major?" Heather asked.

"Nursing!" Jasmine said, perking up noticeably, the motion making her earrings jangle again. "I'm only on my second year of college."

"So you're twenty?" Heather asked.

"Twenty-one," Jasmine declared proudly. "Late bloomer."

Heather ran a finger around the lip of her cup, crossing her legs under the table as warm arousal pooled in her groin. Could Jasmine tell at all what her youthful demeanor and perkiness were doing to her? She'd accepted the offer for sit down coffee with a near total stranger, so Heather was assuming they were on the same page. Maybe a little prodding was in order. "Any special people in your life?" she asked.

Jasmine hesitated for a moment. "I had a girlfriend, but we broke up about a month ago. College was getting to her, so, you know, I get it. But just..." She trailed off, then coughed daintily into her hand. "Sorry. Little personal."

"It's okay," Heather said gently. "What was she like?"

"A couple years above me, so she's a senior this year." Jasmine sighed. "I kinda miss her."

"You like older women?" Heather asked coyly.

Jasmine's face reddened and she looked away, taking a deep sip from her coffee. Heather grinned like a lioness sighting a zebra and gently lifted her foot out of her sandal under the table, sliding it along Jasmine's leg. The young woman jumped, but didn't object to the contact.

"Do you know who I am?" Heather murmured.

Jasmine nodded, quick dips of her head like a bird. "All the guys in the back talk about you. I didn't say anything when you were at the counter, but you've been coming here for a couple months, right? And you like fucking the guys around here?"

"I do," Heather said nonchalantly. "But I also enjoy a woman's touch."

Jasmine's face went from tomato red to beet red. "Oh..."

"And I know for a fact that the last stall in the women's room locks," Heather said. She got up, leaving her coffee half finished on the table. She walked away from the table, to the women's room on the other side of the lobby. Inside were four stalls, the last one a handicapped accessible one on the end. Heather went into the last one. It had a full sink, complete with counter, just wide enough for a slender, horny college girl to sit down on and have her pussy eaten. But would she take the bait?

A moment later came the heavy thud of the bathroom door opening, followed by the tread of pumps on the floor. A tentative push came at the stall door, and Jasmine stuck her head in. "Are you sure about this?"

Heather crooked a finger, and Jasmine came as if yanked by a leash, locking the door behind her. "We just have to be really quiet," Heather said, hooking a hand around the younger woman's waist and pulling her close. She didn't ask permission before kissing Jasmine hungrily - from the way she responded, she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Her lips were soft and pillowy, her tongue pliant and warm as she touched her own against it. Heather's arms snaked around Jazmine's waist and held her tight.

She pulled back after a moment, leaving Jasmine with her mouth hanging open for a moment before she remembered to close it. Silently, Heather reached down and hooked a pair of fingers into the cleft of Jasmine's legs and pushed up. Jasmine's mouth dropped open again, and she quickly clapped a hand over it to stifle her cute moan of delight. Heather nudged her backwards into the counter, and Jasmine hitched her hip on the granite and sat up on the counter. Heather's fingers were quick to go for the catch on her slacks, undoing her belt and sliding it back so she could undo the snap and draw the zipper down.

Heather laughed softly as her hands found a pair of lacy, soft pink panties underneath the khakis, with a little bow on the front. "Adorable," she whispered, dropping down to her knees. She felt the cold tile on her knees, but the jeans mitigated the worst of it as she helped Jasmine wriggle out of her pants and underwear, drawing them down her legs so that the younger woman was bottomless, her butt resting on the sink counter.

Jasmine's eyes widened. "I'm sorry... I haven't done anything down there since Lana and I broke up..."

Heather lifted the bottom of Jasmine's shirt up to expose her mons, along with a dense snarl of pubic hair on it. "You're fine," Heather murmured, nosing at the lower part of Jasmine's belly, getting a noseful of her heady feminine musk. "Remember, stay quiet."

Jasmine used one hand to support herself while clapping the other over her mouth as Heather went lower, running her nose through the thatch of blonde hair above her cunny before venturing towards Jasmine's labia. They were already slightly damp, and Heather helped them along with a long, slow lathe of her tongue along the warm, soft flesh. Jasmine tasted clear and feminine, like dew beading along ferns after a rainstorm. She quivered at the touch of Heather's tongue, her fingers curling against the granite as her palm stitled a quiet gasp into nothing. Heather settled in, leaning against the edge of the counter as she devoured the younger woman's eager pussy. Heather traced shapes and letters with her tongue, each motion bringing a different flavor of woman to palette. Her breath fanned out of her nose over Jasmine's pubic hair, and she curled her tongue against her clit.

"How are you this good?" Jasmine whispered, sounding hysterical. "Lana wasn't nearly as...ooooh..." She arched her back, one of her pumps falling to the tile with a gentle slap.

Heather paused, her mouth hovering close to Jasmine's cunny. They waited to see if anyone came to check on them, and when nobody did, Heather delved back in with a will, licking and sucking frantically as Jasmine squirmed more and more. Heather felt an answering arousal in her own body, her nipples rubbing against the fabric of her top and the warmth in her groin growing more and more. But she didn't feel the need to answer it's call. The pussy quivering against her tongue was enough for now.

It took another few minutes of work, but eventually Heather was rewarded with Jasmine's hips shoving abruptly against her face, her shoulders thudding against the wall as her slender legs hooked around her shoulders. She suckled greedily on Jasmine's sex, reveling in the warm wetness coating her lips like honey. After a time, Jasmine let her go, and Heather pulled back, licking the young woman's juices off her lips. Jasmine looked like she was on another planet, her face still an adorable shade of red as she leaned against the wall, panting heavily.