Encounter at The Hotel Chanteclair

Welcome to another of my Encounter stories. If you've been following along, you know that our Main Female Character (MFC) will reveal a bit more about herself. We of course know that she is a chameleon, and is only interested in "anonymous, wham-bam sex" (her words) with men. Or is she? For those of you who are reading this as a first-timer, each of my Encounter stories is stand-alone, however, if you want to fully understand our MFC, you should start with the first story, Encounter at the Movies, and read these stories in order of publication. I hope you enjoy this work, and as always, I appreciate your votes and feedback.

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As the Gulfstream G700 entered the pattern over the airfield, I exhaustedly put away my laptop and looked out the window. Below us was Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport. I wasn't staying there, my destination was an hour's drive away in a small river town. Tomorrow I'm delivering a speech at a conference. It had been a long flight and I spent most of the time dealing with a customer issue.

Generally, my staff is highly competent and I don't worry much. Yesterday was an outlier, and I was dealing with the aftermath today. Yesterday, while I was walking a red carpet, schmoozing with Broadway's elite, and partying well into the night, my business became a shit show. And it was all thanks to Bradley. My Executive Assistant followed my instructions, monitoring my email and forwarding any urgent issues to him. The problem arose when he tried to address the issue which was outside of his skill set, and copied other employees on the response. Some of those employees had the skill set to address the issue. The voices of those employees were drowned out in the ensuing flurry of emails, all of which copied the customer.

I addressed the issue with emails and phone calls and pulled the business back from the brink of losing the customer. My first email was to all of my employees, advising them that I would be handling the issue with the customer, and anyone replying to the customer after the date/time stamp of my email would be expected to clean out their desk. My tone made it abundantly clear that this was not an idle threat. The second email was to the customer, advising them of how we would address the issue, and requesting a phone call at their earliest convenience. An hour later they called; a conference call, and multiple text messages later, the issue was resolved.

On the drive to the hotel, I used the time to decompress, my blood pressure had been through the roof. Entering through the front door of The Hotel Chanteclair, my heels clicked on the white penny tile floor, and I was taken by the feeling that I had entered a classic British Gentleman's Club. It's a small boutique hotel originally built in the late 1800s. The building was originally a livery, but since has been a bottle works, a warehouse, and, since 2021, an eight-suite hotel. The feel is dark and moody; light ceilings mixed with dark furniture, exposed brick, and dark wood. The decor fits my current mood perfectly. To the left, upon entering, was a fireplace. It was a grand affair, though I doubt it was original. Sofas and chairs were arranged in several seating areas, and in the corner was a stereo with a turntable and a selection of vinyl. A Glenn Miller vinyl album was spinning on the turntable and Tuxedo Junction was playing softly. Next to the stereo sat a woman. She was a stunning auburn-haired goddess, wearing an emerald green dress with a sweetheart neckline and a knee-length draped skirt. A matching hat, clutch, and black pumps completed her look.

I was promptly greeted by the desk clerk, who swiftly processed me in and I proceeded to my room. The walls of the room were dark and moody green, and the bedside table was dark wood, but the bed with its white cover stood in stark contrast. The bath was gleaming white tile with chromed faucets. I dropped my bag in my room, slipped off my grey pinstripe suit coat, and took my laptop to the lobby bar. I ordered my drink, a Boulevardier, and took a seat at a 2-top nearby. I began reviewing the emails from today to determine where things went wrong, and if there was anyone who needed to be counseled or, heaven forbid, disciplined when I returned. Bradley was at the top of my list.

As I sat there in my white blouse, a skirt that matched my suit coat, and black heels, one dangling off my toes, scanning the emails, and sipping my drink, I took a moment to look around. The style of the lobby was very mid-century modern. The furniture had tapered spindles or wire hairpin legs, and the upholstered furniture was blocky but comfortable. There were several faux ficus trees, and the main chandelier had a pineapple centerpiece; a symbol of hospitality. I was about to return to my work when a feminine voice broke in.

"You really should relax, it appears as if you're about to burst."

She sat another Boulevardier next to my empty glass, and I looked up as she stepped from behind me. It was the woman who I'd noticed earlier. Lost in my work, I hadn't noticed her moving to the bar. The look on my face made her laugh softly. Her lips were cherry red, and her short nails had a classic French manicure. My immediate assessment was that she had about ten years on me. In her hand was what appeared to be a Sidecar cocktail. Her look was reminiscent of the 1950s pin-up models, and she smelled like L'Air du Temps, a scent my mother favored, and a popular one in the time of the Glenn Miller Orchestra. Being the only other person in the lobby, I assumed she had placed the LP on the stereo.

"I've been dealing with a customer issue that my employees, unfortunately, made worse. It's been resolved, but now I'm considering which heads should roll, if any."

"Hmm, a powerful woman dealing with incompetence in the ranks, in a place that used to reek of horse manure. How droll."

Droll? Who talks like that? I don't believe I've ever heard anyone use that term.

"May I join you?" she asked and sat without waiting for me to respond. "Emma," she said, extending her hand.

"Alexis," I responded and shook her hand. It was soft and warm, with not a blemish in sight. "Are you responsible for the musical selection?"

"I am. I hope it meets with your approval."

"I do enjoy Big Band music, though I don't often listen to it."

I closed my laptop, it could wait. We engaged in casual conversation, primarily about me and my work, and the situation I was dealing with. When the music ended she proposed that we move closer to the stereo so that she could attend to the turntable while we continued our conversation. I took my drink and laptop and followed her to the loveseat nearby. In front of it was a low table with hairpin legs and a live edge slab of wood as the top. A rack of coasters was conveniently provided. She queued another Miller album and we both kicked off our shoes and sat slightly facing each other. Once we exhausted ourselves with the topic of my business, and ordered another round of drinks, the conversation moved to lighter subjects such as the local area, and music.

For some reason, I felt comfortable with her. I didn't often share personal details with strangers, yet with her I nearly spilled my life story. She had a way about her, calm and friendly, yet there was an underlying sexuality about her. If she were a he, I wouldn't have been so open. Hell, I'd even given her my real name! Of course, I also wouldn't spend this much time with a man unless I saw him as a conquest. Somewhere during the conversation, I curled a foot up where I could reach it and began massaging.

She smiled and looked down at my hand that was attending to my foot. "May I? I'm told the foot massages I provide are simply divine."

I was hesitant at first, but I do love a good foot massage, and she had graciously offered, so why not? I extended my leg and she cupped my heel in one hand as she began to work my tired foot. While we continued talking, I began to feel the day's stress melt away.Damn, that feels good! I thought to myself

"Are you available for travel, Emma? I could use your skilled hands."

"And to think, I've only touched your feet," she said, as she looked at me through her lashes and softly smiled.

I returned her smile and sighed as I leaned back against the arm of the loveseat. After a bit, she focused her attention on my calf. When she asked for my other foot, I gladly offered it and she repeated her exquisite ministrations. By the time I finished my second drink, I was little more than putty in her hands.

Before we knew it, the lobby bar was closing, and the bartender approached us for the last call.

"I shouldn't, I have a meeting in the morning," I responded to him, then looked at her.

"No thank you," she smiled at him and gave him a dismissive wave.

"I suppose we should adjourn to our rooms," she sighed, "though I wonder..."

"And what do you wonder?"

"Well, it seems that your problems are caused by men, and I don't see a ring on your finger. I wonder if, like me, you have little use for the male of our species."

"Well, except for what's between their legs," I chuckled.

"I suppose, but there are better options for pleasure," she rolled her eyes. "Let me be quite blunt, Alexis, I find you very attractive, and I'm sensing that you feel a bit of attraction to me as well. I would love to explore your body, and let you feel what a woman can do for you."

I guess the look on my face told it all. I was taken aback by her bold advance, the thought of being with her had never crossed my mind.

"Shocked?" she asked. "I take it you've never been with a woman. That's such a shame. A delicious morsel such as yourself being ravaged by a brutish man is only one side of the coin of life."

I sat there in stunned silence as she leaned toward me and placed her lips on mine. The soft contact shocked me back to the present.

"You want... you think... um... wow..." I stuttered.

She took my hand and stroked it softly.

"Look at me, Alexis," she whispered. "I want you. All I can think about is touching you, kissing you, making you feel wonderful." She paused and took a deep breath. "Am I reading this wrong?" Doubt suddenly clouded her face.

"I... wow... I need a moment to process this. I... I've never..." I fumbled over the words.

"Been with a woman," she finished my sentence. "Yes, we established that."

My mind was blown, I'd been pursued by plenty of men, and I knew all the signals they put out. But, shit, I'd missed all her signals. I wasn't even looking for them! I looked at her, letting my eyes trail up and down her body in a way I'd never allowed myself to do openly before.

"You're so sexy," I whispered.

"The feeling is mutual, darling," she grinned and raised an eyebrow.

My lips were on her before I even made the conscious decision to kiss her. They were so soft, the kiss so tender. Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging gently and I moaned into her lips.What the fuck am I doing! my mind screamed.

"God, that feels good... better than I imagined. Fuck, what am I saying, I've never even imaged!" I panted.

"I am imagining, and my imagination tells me it would be amazing to be with you, Alexis. You are stunning. It's okay, dear. I know this is sudden. I don't want to pressure you into something you might regret. But trust me, you won't regret giving yourself to me."

"I don't know... I just... wow," was all I could manage.

I was still in shock, and Emma was looking at me with a hunger in her eyes. A hunger I'd only seen in men until this moment. It was clear that she wanted to be with me, but what did I know about pleasing a woman? Sure, I see attractive women, but I've neverdesired them. What can I do for her? As if she could read my mind, she whispered.

"You're worried about pleasing me, but trust me, being with you is all I need tonight. Haven't you ever just given yourself to a man, and let him do the work? It can be that way with me, Alexis. Just give yourself to me and let me pleasure the both of us. You've already started, haven't you? Don't tell me that you're not excited from the foot massage."

She was right. I could feel the dampness between my legs. Her foot massage relaxed and excited me. If she were a man, I'd be throwing myself at her right now. But she wasn't, and I was hesitant. Finally, she stood and smoothed her skirt.

"I'll wait for one hour before going to bed. Think about it, and if you decide to take a chance, join me in the Grand Suite, room 101."

She turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the penny tile, and her ass swaying. I suspected she was exaggerating the sway in her hips for me, but I had to admit, it was mesmerizing. Before disappearing down the hallway, she paused and looked back expectantly. Her look beckoned me to follow her as if we were characters in the poem by Mary Howitt. "'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly." I looked away, embarrassed, titillated, hesitant, and confused. I felt unexpectedly drawn to her, and my mind was awash in thoughts I'd never dared to consider before.

She took the pressure off of me when she turned and walked into her room. Standing alone at the foot of the stairs, I realized that I hadn't breathed in several moments. I inhaled deeply and let out a stuttering breath as I gripped the newel post of the beautifully restored staircase. Suddenly energized, I rapidly ascended the stairs and fled to my room as if I were being chased. Once there, I stripped off my clothes and started the shower. I needed to remove the funk from a day's travel, and I needed to clear my mind. The warm spray washing over me brought a sense of relief and allowed me to escape the turmoil of the evening momentarily. Then, as I soaped my body, running my hands over my skin, thoughts ofher intruded into my mind, and I realized that, while I had missed her signals, she hadn't missed mine.

I stepped out of the shower, and as I dried myself, I considered that I had been the classic "interested woman" without realizing it. I thought back to our encounter. I had accepted her offer of a drink, and when she sat down with me, I gave her my undivided attention. I'm sure that my face lit up when we began our conversation, I was so happy to have someone to vent to. I had been intrigued by her look, and made routine eye contact as we talked, even leaning forward to make my points. I willingly followed her to the loveseat, where we would be closer, and I even touched her several times as I laughed WAY too loudly at her witty comments. My God, I'd even let her massage my feet! Had I invited her touch by doing it myself? And I wondered what else had I subconsciously done to send her signals. No wonder she sensed I was interested, but that begged the question: was I interested? I stepped out of the shower and dried myself, then used the hotel-provided blow dryer to dry my hair. The entire time I thought about her. No one, man or woman, would deny that she was beautiful; ravishing auburn hair, and an emerald green dress that hugged her every curve. Those expressive red lips of hers were plush and curled at one corner when she smiled, even her brows were attractive. Hell, what was I thinking, there was nothing about her that was unattractive. As I thought about her, I sensed my own need, my burgeoning desire to step outside my world of experiences. Would this opportunity ever present itself again? Probably not unless I went looking for it. I let a hand trail down my torso and settle between my things; I was damp, no doubt engorged. I made my decision and threw on my robe and slippers. Before I could change my mind, I was knocking on her door with five minutes to spare.

"Alexis! What a pleasant surprise!" Emma exclaimed when she opened the door.

I swiftly stepped through the door and she closed it behind me. I took in the room. There was a queen-sized bed, an armoire, and nightstands, along with a seating area with a table and chairs, and a kitchenette. The walls were painted a dark green, giving the room a moody feel, not unlike the hotel lobby. Off to one side, the bathroom gleamed in white.

I turned to face her, and she once again took my breath away. She was a vision, wearing a black lace teddy and matching lace kimono robe. Her feet were displayed in black Maribou slippers. Seeing her dressed that way, all my hesitation disappeared, like fog beneath the sun's merciless rays. My lips met hers. They were soft, and she tenderly returned my advances. My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her mouth tightly against mine as my tongue begged to explore. She moaned into my mouth as she parted her lips and granted me entrance. She broke the contact and moved to kiss my neck. I felt a flush of heat when she traced my throat with her tongue.

"You taste intoxicating," she said, her voice coming out as a growl.

As she kissed down my neck, she gently tugged at my robe. It easily gave way and she slipped it off my shoulders, letting it pool at our feet. She stepped back and her eyes trailed down and then up my body. Her gaze settled on my breasts and she licked her lips.

"My god," she whispered as her fingers ghosted over my bare breasts, gently teasing my nipples to hardness, and then tweaking them. I gasped and moaned. "You are gorgeous, Alexis."

She bent down and took one of my nipples into her mouth. I moaned, and I felt a surge of wetness overtake my sex. She licked and nibbled one nipple while rolling the other between her fingers. I became lost in her touch.

"Yes," I whimpered.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want this. Please, Emma."

She grinned as she slipped out of her shoes and knelt before me. She took a deep breath, drawing in my aroma.

"You were so hesitant, shocked, earlier. What happened?"

"You happened," I moaned as she softly kissed my mons.

"Lie on the bed," she directed me as she gently pressed my thighs.

I hadn't noticed but during our brief interaction, she had guided me backward to it. I felt the mattress against my legs and sat, pulling my legs up as I rolled onto my back, fully exposing my sex to a woman for the first time. I felt both embarrassed and impatient. My breath caught when I gazed up at her and saw the desire in her eyes. She removed her lingerie, and for the first time I gazed upon the fullness of her breasts, the curves of her body. I was overcome with the desire to feel her against me.

"I think I'm ready, what about you?" she asked.

"Please," I whispered.

Emma took my calves in her hands and bent down to place butterfly kisses inside each knee. She alternated kissing the inside of each thigh, the pressure becoming firmer as she progressed closer to my quivering sex. As she neared her target, each kiss incorporated her tongue. She gently nipped at the soft skin at the top of my leg, and by the time she reached my sex, I was ready to burst into flame. My folds were wet and slick, and I sucked a sharp breath when Emma's fiery tongue teased my clit from under its hood. My sex pulsed with want as she lightly kissed my sodden lips. I moaned and grasped my knees to steady their involuntary movement and pulled them toward my chest as I splayed them to the side. I was fully exposed, fully open to Emma, and excited for whatever was to come.

And then it happened, she forever changed my world. For the first time, I watched and felt the gentle tenderness of a woman laving my sex. Her tongue flattened against my entrance, pausing there for a moment, then slowly she dragged it upward toward my tumescent clit. My back arched and I released a groan. The tip of her tongue flicked across my nub, like a snake tasting its prey. Then she repeated, lick, flick, lick flick.

"Please, Emma," I moaned.

"Please what, Alexis?" she whispered into my sodden folds as she looked up at me through her lashes.