Hotel Exhibitionist Ch. 02

If she looked embarrassed, no one seemed to have noticed it, because Samuel was telling a joke, loudly, and everyone in the group was busy pretending it was funny. Somehow, Samuel's hand had found its way to the curve of Kymberly's lower back, not far above her rear. His touch gave Kymberly a new challenge to navigate. She didn't want him to think his hand had free rein to wander over her backside. But neither did she want to provoke or embarrass him. She wanted to get his business, after all. Fortunately, it was a predicament Kymberly had faced countless times before, one which she had learned to handle adeptly.

Before she had time to think about what to do about Samuel, her phone pinged again. Robert texted.

She put her hand on Samuel's shoulder and game him a grand, apologetic smile.

"Samuel, so sorry," she said. "It's my husband. Something going on at home. I have to reply to him."

"Family comes first," he said. "But I do hope you rejoin us when you're done."

"I will! Just a sec."

She stepped away from the group to see Robert's message. She shielded the phone with her hand. She didn't want anyone else to see what he texted.

"Where are you now?"

"On the hotel patio, schmoozing. Talking to a big potential customer."

"Good girl," he texted. "I'm sure you will before the convention is over. But I have some things for you to do."

"I'm busy right now," she texted back.

"You agreed to play the game. This is part of the game. You will have time to get business while playing the game, but it will not be easy. Are you quitting the game?"

That word. Quit. Robert knew that Kymberly hated to quit, that once she had accepted a challenge it was agony for her not to see it through. He knew the right buttons to push.

Kymberly didn't know what he was going to ask her to do, or how much it might interfere with her goals at the convention, but she knew that Robert knew how important her job was to her. She guessed that he wouldn't give her something to do that was impossible -- just very challenging. She hadn't quit one of his games before. She wasn't going to quit now.

"No, I'm not quitting," she texted.

"By the way," she added. "The porter who saw me naked is serving appetizers at the party. He just saw me. I bet you like that."

"I do. That's perfect," he texted. "I bet he liked imagining seeing you naked again. Maybe if everything goes right he will.

"Here's the next part of the game," he continued. "I'm going to give you three tasks to do. One by one. I will give you the task and a specific number of minutes to complete it and to text me before the time ends that you have done it. Got it?"

"Yes, I've got it," she texted him.

"Are you ready for your first task?" he texted.

She wasn't, really, but she wasn't going to let him know that. There was plenty of time to schmooze with the guests, so she might as well get started with Robert's games.

"Yes, I'm ready."

"O.K. Here's your first task. Within five minutes of receiving this text, take an upskirt photo of yourself, showing your bare pussy under the dress. You cannot go back to your room."

Kymberly stared at Robert's instruction. She wouldn't be able to make it back to her room in time, anyway, she thought. She looked up from her phone and scanned her surroundings. At least 200 people crowded the patio and spilled over into the surrounding grounds of the resort and hallways of the hotel. She wondered how she would take an upskirt photo in this crowd without anyone noticing.

"You have 4:30 left," he texted her.

The pressure of competition was on. Robert was not going to make this easy, but Kymberly was determined, somehow, to complete the task. She held the phone up to her ear so others nearby would think she was busy talking on the phone and not bother her. She scanned the patio for places to go. Standing in the crowd, there was no way to take the photo without people noticing, and she couldn't risk that happening. She moved quickly to the edge of the patio, looking for places where she could take the photo discreetly. She saw quickly that no place nearby was risk-free. She needed some cover, and a place where she would be out of sight for a few seconds.

At a far end of the patio, she spied a row of large terra cotta pots tufted with drooping, long-leaved plants. They stood, maybe, waist high, which might be high enough. She kept the phone to her ear, and stepped briskly toward the planters to give the impression she was looking for a quiet place to talk.

She heard another ping and looked at the phone screen.

"3:00 minutes. You better hurry."

This was hard enough without Robert pressuring her.

She reached the nearest planter. It was, perhaps, two feet wide. It came up to her waist, and the droopy plant spilling out of it would hide her up to her tummy. The rest of her would be uncovered. She looked around. There were people here and there, but not nearly as many as where she had stood two minutes ago, and no one that she recognized.

She thought about how she would complete the task. She would have to do it as quickly as possible to minimize the risk of being seen. It would be awkward trying to hold the phone under the dress and take a photo while standing, despite how short the dress was.

A man not 30 feet away caught her eye with an admiring look. Kymberly looked away quickly and looked at her phone to signal she was busy. Please, please, she thought, go away. Do not approach me. From the side of her vision she saw, thankfully, that he walked away.

"1:00," she saw on her phone.

She had to do this.

She scanned the area. No one was looking at her. No one stood to the side of her in the narrow space between the planters and the high bushes that marked the boundary of the patio. It was now or never.

She set the little purse between the leaves of the plant. She put the phone on its camera setting. She had to squat down a little to get the phone low enough below the hem of the dress. She put her left hand on the front hem of the dress and pulled it out and up just slightly.

She held the phone down under the hem of her dress, pointing the lens up and under the dress and between her bare legs. She looked down quickly to make sure the position and angle appeared to be correct, and she snapped the photo.

She pushed the short dress hem back into place and stepped away from the planter, hoping to give off an air that nothing unusual was going on. With little time left, she pulled up the photo on the phone screen and sent it to her kinky and expectant husband.

She waited for his reply.

Ping.

"17 seconds to spare. You cut it close. But nice job on the photo! Your cunt looks lovely. A little wet, too, I think."

The word "cunt" always sounded jarring to Kymberly, but Robert liked it, and he liked to shock her by using it to describe her in erotic moments like this one. Well, not like this one, she supposed. She'd never had a moment like this one.

For this moment, the word "cunt" seemed, somehow, appropriate.

Kymberly's heart was beating fast as she walked back to the center of the patio. She had a job to do. She thumbed a quick message to Robert as she walked.

"Can I have time to get work done now?"

"A little. I will text you soon with your next task."

I'm sure you will, she thought. She had to work quickly.

She could make out Samuel, just barely, still surrounded by his colleagues and admirers. She worked her way through the crowd to get back to him. Then she heard someone call her name nearby.

"Kymberly," a deep, baritone voice called to her.

A tall man with short, dark hair and blue eyes and a mustache was looking at her. She recognized him as the vice president of marketing of Teffler, one of her company's biggest competitors. She had only met him once -- at another event like this one a couple of years earlier -- but he was a man whose face you didn't easily forget. She remembered him having a forceful and direct manner, as well as striking good looks.

"It's Dan, right? Dan Orloff?" she asked him.

"Good memory. We met at the convention in Orlando two years ago."

"I remember," she said. "You were one of the speakers, and you were the only one who told a funny joke."

He laughed. "I'm glad to hear I got you to laugh. The jokes get stale at these things."

He looked at her very intently, like he was sizing her up. But not in just in a sexual way, Kymberly thought, although she could tell he was admiring her looks.

"How are things at Sintrell?" he asked.

"Well enough to keep me busy," she said. "My husband doesn't always like that I'm away on work a lot, but he appreciates having a working wife." Kymberly found it was useful often to mention that she had a husband to dampen the enthusiasm of potential male admirers just a little. It worked, most of the time.

"I'll bet he does," said Dan. "We're very busy at Teffler, too. We just unveiled a new line of products, and we don't seem to have enough people -- enough good people -- to sell them. We're looking to hire some good people." His eyes stared hard at her as he said it.

"Good people are hard to find in the sales business," she said. Kymberly was satisfied at Sintrell, but it never hurt to test one's value on the market. And Teffler was a big player -- bigger than Sintrell, and better-paying, too, from what she had heard.

"Don't I know it," he said. "We pay good people very well at Teffler. Maybe I can call you sometime and tell you some more about that."

"Maybe you can. And maybe I'll tell you about any marketing VP positions that open up at Sintrell."

He laughed at that. "Fair enough," he said. "We'll take this up later."

"See you, Dan," and she resumed walking toward Samuel. She was chagrined that she couldn't see him now. He had moved away. She saw another group of familiar faces, though, and moved toward it to schmooze. She approached the group with her shoulders back and head high. The embarrassment of taking the photo was behind her, and Dan's evident interest in hiring her left her feeling confident and desired. And, she had to admit, she felt sexy and slightly aroused in the tight, short red dress without panties.

She spent another 15 minutes circulating around the crowd, catching up with people she knew, and making connections with others she had met before. Then the phone pinged again.

"Ready?"

"No, not really," she replied. "Still doing my job."

"It must wait," he texted. "I have another job for you to do."

Here it comes, she thought.

"This job is a bit riskier," he texted.

Oh no, she thought. What was he going to ask her to do?

"For task number 2, you have to expose yourself to someone. You must make sure the person sees your pussy. To leave no doubt, and prove it to me, you must have that person take a photo of your pussy with your phone and text it to me. I will give you a little more time for this one -- 10 minutes."

"Robert, I can't do that! These are my work colleagues!"

"Then find someone who is not a colleague. But not the porter. It must be someone else.

"Better get started," he texted again. "You are down to 9:30."

There was no use arguing with him. He wouldn't relent. She must do it in the time he gave her, or quit. Quit. That word, again. She didn't want to quit, both because she loved a challenge and because she enjoyed the games, however much they pushed the boundary of what she thought was appropriate and interfered with her work.

She didn't have much time. She'd stuck to the rules so far and she would try to stick to them again. But how? It was one thing to take a quick, sneaky, upskirt selfie. It was another to hand her phone to a stranger and ask, "Would you take a photo of my pussy?"

But that's what she had to do.

She couldn't have someone involved in the convention take the photo. That was too risky; they might talk, and her reputation could be hurt. Who, then?

She looked to the double doors of the hotel. Maybe someone on the hotel staff could do it, she thought. But the corridors of the hotel would be very crowded right now, and it would be difficult in the time she had to find a discreet place where a maid or porter could take a photo of her. Plus, they would be working, and it might be difficult for them to stop what they were doing to help her.

She scanned her surroundings, turning her head around. She looked away from the hotel, out beyond the patio, toward the golf course.

The golf course.

The sun was setting, but a few golfers still were out on the course, finishing the last rounds of the day.

She thought furiously. The golfers weren't connected with the convention. If they were, they'd be on the patio, not on the course. They wouldn't know her, or know anyone else in her industry. And if she knew anything about the type of men who would be finishing a round of golf together at the end of the day at a vacation resort like this one, they would be more than happy to oblige the request of a pretty girl's request to snap a photo of her private parts.

It was the only option Kymberly could think of.

She ran-walked as quickly as she could on her high heels on the patio without tripping or calling too much attention to herself. She wasn't sure, exactly, where to go. The patio was elevated over the golf course, so much of the course was exposed to it, and she couldn't just walk out to the part of the course on view to the patio and start exposing herself to surprised golfers. She'd have to find an area that wasn't directly visible to the patio guests. The area off to the left seemed to fit her needs. There were steps that descended from the patio through some hedges, past which she was sure some now-obscured part of the course lay. She would have to take her chances there.

Scurrying toward the steps, she nearly crashed into Kristin, who appeared suddenly, holding a drink and accompanied by a thin, handsome blond man that Kymberly didn't recognize.

"Kymberly!" Kristin called out in her trademark high-schoolish, sing-song voice. "You're in an awful hurry! Is something the matter?" Kristin peered up at her taller rival with a look of feigned concern.

"No, not at all," said Kymberly, her mind scrambling for a plausible explanation. "Um . . . my . . . husband wanted me to take some photos of the golf course, so I'm heading that way to take them before the light dims." It wasn't a great excuse, but it would have to do.

"What a thoughtful wife!" Kristin exclaimed. "Kymberly, do you know Roger?" She pointed to her companion.

Roger motion to shake her hand, but Kymberly had no time. "We haven't met," she said. "Sorry but I have to move quickly to catch the light. I'll chat with you later."

"See you then," said Kristin, her lips pursed in mock sweetness. "Shall we go back to the party, Roger?"

Kymberly had no time to think of Kristin. She moved off the patio, down the steps, to a concrete path that winded through shrubbery toward the course.

"7:00" showed up on her phone. Not much time left.

She had never played the course and didn't know where to go, but the path took her toward what looked like the mid-point of a long fairway. She was in luck -- two golf carts were directly in front of her, and enough trees and shrubs lay around to obscure, more or less, whatever she did from anyone else's gaze.

When she looked at the people in the carts, though, her hopes fell. They were occupied by two older couples, perhaps around sixty years old, and the women had the look of women that would not approve of a woman who wanted to expose her genitals to their husbands.

She looked around her, desperately. Kymberly had a talent for keeping her cool under pressure, but the craziness of the challenge and the rapid expiration of time to do it were taking their toll on her. The combination of tension and running awkwardly in her heels were starting to make her sweat a little, as well.

She saw no other golfers in sight. Then, she did. She saw two carts moving slowly together up the middle of a fairway. But they were moving on another hole. To get there, she would have to cross the middle of the fairway in front of her, where the two older couples had just gone by her, and then she would have to cross through a thin line of trees to get to the other fairway. She would have to hurry, to ensure the carts didn't pass by before she got there. It was going to be a close thing.

She couldn't run across a golf course effectively in heels, so she shucked them off fast and held them together in the hand with her purse, the other hand holding her phone. She ran as fast as she could. Through the red dress was tight and confining, it also was short, giving her lean legs plenty of room to move and carry her quickly across the fairway.

She scampered across, aware of how crazy it was that she was doing this. I have to stop being so competitive, she thought. Maybe I should just quit. But she didn't want to. She was here, now, running already, and she might as well keep running. If she focused on the task before her she could ignore, a little bit, the risk she was taking, and its possible consequences for her career.

Suddenly a voice shouted "fore!" from somewhere on the hole, and without warning a golf ball bounced on the turf 20 feet in front of her. It startled her, but she had no time to stop. She turned her head from the direction of the shot and saw three golfers about 200 yards away. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like they were raising their arms in the air and looking at her. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard a voice, faint across the distance, say "Are you kidding me?"

She reached the trees. They were pine trees, and they must have dropped a lot of needles, because they pricked her bare feet with every step. Still, she didn't slow down, though she let out a few yelps on the way.

She cleared the trees and reached the destination fairway. The carts hadn't passed by her yet. She hadn't been able to see who was in the golf carts from her previous vantage point. Puffing and bent over, and out of breath and out of options, she hoped that it wasn't another pair of older couples. Or members of a church vestry. Or a youth group. Fortunately, it was none of those. The group consisted of three men, probably around her age, and they were talking loudly and laughing as they drove up the fairway to their balls.

They didn't see her. She would have to attract their attention.

"4:00" showed up on her phone. Damn, Robert! She thought.

She couldn't wait.

"Excuse me? Hello?" she called out.

That got their attention. She could see all three of them look turn toward her in unison, start to turn away, and then do a rapid and enthusiastic double take. The guy in the lead cart, who was alone, steered his cart sharply in her direction. The other two, in a cart behind his, followed. Ten seconds later -- she was counting the time to herself, now -- their carts were right in front of her.

"That's a funny golf outfit, miss," the man in the lead cart said to her with a wry smile.

"I'm not out here to play golf," she replied, trying to do so with whatever composure and flirtiness she could muster.

"Well, then, this is a funny place to be," he said, his smile widening. She was glad they didn't seem to mind being distracted from their game by a pretty girl in a short red dress.

"I have a favor to ask you gentlemen," she said, and she batted an eyelash or two at them. It seemed to have the required effect. The lead man got out of his cart and approached her.

"What can we do?" he asked. The other two were slower to respond, but they left their carts as well and followed him.

"3:00."

"This is an odd favor to ask, and I'm sorry to distract you from your game, but I don't have much time and you're the only ones who can help." Kymberly realized she was wasting time with explanations, and that time was running out, but she was having trouble asking what she needed to ask them.