Reunion - Mexico City Ch. 01

My fingers trembled with anticipation as they fumbled to dial Maribeth's work number. She was one of the top psychologists in the VA system based in San Antonio, Texas and I was calling from my office outside of Baltimore, Maryland.

I didn't normally call Maribeth there, but the question I was dying to ask her just could not wait for a later time. Oh, I suppose it could have waited, but I couldn't.

I got the operator immediately, and heard a nice Texas drawl ask me, to what extension I wished to be connected? For just the barest instant I considered saying, "Please help me connect with that hot Doc on the fifth floor with the wet pussy." but out of a sense of decorum I think I said, "7443 please."

After four rings, I assumed that Maribeth was away from her desk and I was about to mentally compose a message In my head when she picked up.

"Major _______"

"Is this the Major _______ that I've been sleeping with or is that some other Major _______?"

"Gary! What an unexpected surprise."

"I've been thinking about you and there's something coming up that I want to talk to you about, got a moment?"

"For you, I'll make a moment...or an hour...or a day."

"How about a week?"

"A week?"

"Listen, we may buy that company in Mexico City that I told you about, remember?"

"Uh uh."

"I've got to go down there for a week to ten days and meet with the accountants and do what we call due diligence, you know, confirm what they've told us about the business, make sure they don't have any debts we'd end up being responsible for etc. I'm leaving two weeks from Monday, any chance you could come along?"

For the past two and a half years I had been having an affair with Maribeth. We had actually dated while I was in college but we had gone our separate ways and had lost track of each other until, by chance, we bumped into one another in a Dallas hotel lobby twenty three years later.

Unfortunately, our affair had been limited to one or two days at a time as our busy schedules permitted, and during those, way too brief encounters, we had both expressed a wish for the opportunity to be together for a longer period. My trip to Mexico City presented just such an occasion, but only if Maribeth could actually join me.

She wasn't saying anything, but I could hear a desk drawer open and the sound of paper being shuffled, so I assumed that Maribeth was quickly checking her commitments. A moment later I heard her voice again.

"There's only ten conflicts with those dates, but of course I'll come."

I briefly wondered how someone in her position would be able to deal with those ten conflicts, but since I had seen Maribeth pull miracles out of nowhere for some time, I didn't waste too much brain power on dealing with her issues.

I started to ask her if her passport was up to date, but quickly caught myself. Of course it would be up to date. She was an officer in the Air Force and as such would have a valid passport just in case the needs of the service required her immediate presence in some far off foreign land. I didn't know about the Air Force, but I knew I had needs of her services in Mexico City in two weeks.

Several days later, I called again to discuss the logistics and found that Maribeth had already resolved six of her ten conflicts and was making progress on the other four. I had secured the use of the company plane and was happy to tell her that we'd be avoiding most of the hassle with immigration and customs in Mexico.

Maribeth told me that she had gone shopping and had a few surprises for me, but of course, refused to divulge any details. She also told me how excited she was and I assured her that I was as well.

The company plane was a Hawker 800 that was built in 1990. The eight passenger jet was a nice upgrade from the Lear that had preceded it, and I had put in a few hundred hours in the plane, but only occasionally had I been the senior executive. If this trip had been in the U.S. I might have had the CFO and the Chief Legal Counsel along, but since it was in Mexico, I was the only passenger, at least until we landed in San Antonio and Maribeth came aboard.

I had explained to Chris, the Chief pilot, that Maribeth was a translator that we had hired for the visit since she had the deep financial vocabulary that would be essential. Of course she possessed no such thing, she was proficient in Spanish but I doubted that she knew the difference between a "Cuentas por cobrar factorizadas" and a "Línea de crédito sin garantía." This little white lie was accepted without question since Chris generally had no need to understand the business purpose of any of the flights he flew.

For obvious reasons, Maribeth and I eschewed any overt displays of affection as she boarded, and Chris surprised me when he helped Maribeth up the ramp by welcoming her with a nice "Bienvenida a bordo." Maribeth smiled and I could see right away that she thought he was cute.

Soon we were seated across from each other in two seats on the starboard side of the plane. She looked around the interior and silently indicated her approval as the plane taxied and was soon a couple of thousand feet over South Texas.

During the flight, I took the opportunity to explain the details of the trip over coffee and a bagel. We would be staying at the Intercontinental Presidente de Mexico on the Avenue Paseo de Reforma that was adjacent to Chapultepec Park just west of the Central Square which was called the Plaza de la Constitución, but which most Mexicans call the "Zocalo."

I mentioned, but Maribeth was already aware of, the U.S. Army's assault and subsequent capture of the citadel at Chapultepec during the Mexican War in 1847, which brought that war to an end and resulted in the U.S. Annexation of California, Texas and most of what now makes up the American Southwest.

I had stayed at the Intercontinental on two previous occasions, so I was familiar with the hotel and its surroundings. I mentioned to Maribeth that the circumference of Chapultepec Park was almost exactly five miles, which was the length of my normal morning run. However, I was quick to point out that running at Mexico City's 7,349' was a distinct departure from the 102' I was accustomed. Maribeth sort of nodded, and I wondered if she wasn't preparing herself to find that I had expired during this morning exercise.

Mexico City sits in a depression surrounded by mountains, so the plane had to execute a little hop before descending into Toluca International Airport. This wasn't the main commercial airport of Mexico City and to my knowledge only private aircraft used this particular airport. The day was cool but getting warmer, so the walk across the tarmac wasn't unpleasant. As expected, we were virtually waved through immigration and customs without a hitch and the limo driver we had arranged was waiting.

Mexico City traffic was heavy, but I had never been on any road around the city that wasn't. There's a standing joke, that the only mechanical failure that will remove a vehicle from the road is a broken horn, and given the condition of some of the cars and trucks that we saw, I wasn't sure it was a joke.

Our room at the Intercontinental was on the 17th floor and I had asked for one overlooking Chapultepec. The view was spectacular! Mexico City often experiences severe smog, but the weather this day was clear and crisp. The citadel itself sits on a low hill at the northeast end of the park and rises slightly above the surrounding forest. Farther down, the landscape is more open with a number of lakes and canals that seems to have been randomly placed. At the extreme southern end of the park was the Mexico City Zoo. I had walked some of the paths in the park over the years and had always found the experience delightful. The boundaries of this green oasis were easily discerned from this height and we could see much of the Central City with the jumble of structures ranging from the magnificent to the dilapidated spread before our view.

The room itself was no less spectacular. Unlike any other hotel I had ever stayed in, the room windows were longer horizontally than vertically and covered almost the entire 20' expanse of the exterior wall as a solid piece of glass. A marble topped desk was located on the left side looking out on the marvelous view. There was a beautiful king sized bed on one side wall, and the bathroom filled half the space opposite the windows, but it wasn't entirely a separate room since it was enclosed entirely by glass walls.

While I was gazing over this landscape, two arms wrapped around me and I felt Maribeth's head cushion against my shoulder.

"Amo este lugar" She said in almost a whisper. "Me too," I responded and turned to take her in my arms. For the last several hours we had behaved in public in the most professional manner. Other than a handshake in San Antonio and a fleeting assist as I helped her into the limo at the airport, we had barely touched.

I drew her to me and she lifted her head. The kiss was everything you'd expect from two lovers who not only had not seen each other for four months but were excited with the anticipation of what the next week might offer.

I had been up for almost ten hours and it was now only 2 pm central time. The morning bagel and coffee were long gone and I was getting hungry, as I suspected Maribeth was as well.

As much as I desired to ask her to explore the inviting bed with me, I rationalized that we had much of the day (and night) to ravage each other's bodies and that we'd both do better with a little nourishment. I suggested we try out the Au Pied de Cochon which was located on a patio at the street level.

Since Maribeth wasn't fluent in French, she asked me what the name of the restaurant meant. I laughed and said, "It roughly translates as 'The multicolored Pig.' and no one I've ever talked to seems to know why." Maribeth scrunched up her nose and reverted to Spanish, "los franceses son idiotas." I didn't know Spanish nearly as well as Maribeth, but even I could figure that one out.

The sun had warmed the patio and we found a nice table by the fountain. We could see Chepaultapec through the trees, but the view wasn't comparable to what we could see from our room.

We started with Sangria. Since I had escorted Maribeth over the threshold into "womanhood," one memorable evening in Norfolk some 27 years previously, Sangria had become somewhat of a tradition with us. I had bought a bottle of the fruity Spanish wine that day and ever since, we had made sure that it was the first drink whenever we got together.

The second tradition was that after the first sip, we kissed with the wine still on our lips. Inasmuch as we were definitely in a public place, we probably lingered a little too long before our lips parted. Maribeth looked quickly around to see if any voyeurs were watching and I had to chuckle at her new found modesty. When she saw my reaction, she smiled and laughed too.

Despite its name. The restaurant had a nice selection of food from all over the world, but particularly Mexico. Since I lived in Maryland, good Mexican food was hard to come by, and I was ready. Texas had better access, but Maribeth was keen to follow my lead.

One bottle of Sangria and identical orders of Carnitas Tacos later we pushed away from the table. Carnitas are Mexico's version of pulled pork, and It's been the first thing I usually seek upon landing in Mexico. I'd planned to sample the breadth of Mexican cuisine in the upcoming days, but Carnitas was always a good start.

The day was beautiful, so I suggested to Maribeth that I'd like to take a little walk. The choices were numerous. The park and the inviting paths across the street were one option, but I suspected that Maribeth might find a stroll through the adjacent Polanco District to be more interesting.

Polanco was one of the premier shopping areas in Mexico City and a lot of the high end stores were located there. I soon discovered that I had been correct. What I had planned to be a half hour stroll to work the kinks out from a day of travel turned out to be over a two hour excursion. I lost count of the number of display windows we stopped at while Maribeth asked my opinion of the clothing, jewelry, art and a hundred other items that caught her eye.

During the walk I discovered that Maribeth was enamored with turquoise and silver Indian jewelry, so our one purchase was a necklace that seemed particularly attractive to her. For the area we were in, I was a little surprised by the relatively modest price I had to pay, but Maribeth chimed in and haggled with the saleswoman in a torrent of Spanish that I was challenged to follow. In the end I only paid about 80% of what I thought was already a fair price.

Maribeth seemed happy with both the outcome of the purchase and the necklace itself. For my part, whatever the price, it was worth the smile on the lady's face when I placed it around her bare neck. Maribeth gave me much more than a nice "thank you" kiss and soon we were retracing our steps the hotel hand in hand.

When we got back to our room, Maribeth suggedted we should wash off what she called "travel dirt." I saw her quickly glance in the direction of the glassed in bathroom and understood immediately what she meant by the word "we."

Over the years, I have lost count of how many showers (and a few baths) that Maribeth and I had shared since that very memorable night in Norfolk, but it had to be approaching a hundred. Indeed, whenever we had been together, our mutual expectation was that bathing was a team sport.

While we had been gone, the hotel had delivered our suitcases to the room, so despite the erotic potential of Maribeth's proposal, we delayed so that we could unpack. The sum of both of our clothes barely filled a quarter of the huge closet, and what was destined for the dresser was modest as well. I did note that Maribeth had seemed to have acquired bras and panties that looked silkier and skimpier than what I remembered, and when Maribeth caught me peeking, she just gave me the smile she uses when she knows something that I don't.

Housekeeping chores finished. I eased in behind Maribeth, wrapped my arms around her stomach, and used my nose to push aside a few strands of hair so that I could kiss her slim neck. I knew that this would bring a contented response and her softly murmured "ummmm," was my reward.

The light kisses continued for a few minutes, but I began to become impatient to move things along. From where I stood behind her, I was well positioned to start unbuttoning the lady's jacket. Maribeth had worn a brown and gold tweed number that only had four buttons which were dispensed with quickly and as I continued to kiss her neck, I slipped it off her shoulders and threw it onto a nearby chair. The silky green blouse that she wore underneath was more of a challenge, but it would have to wait for a moment.

My hands again wrapped around her slim body, but this time boldly cupped her liquid soft breasts. Maribeth had told me on previous occasions that she particularly enjoyed it when I fondled her from behind and I had discovered that it was my favorite as well.

In this position, I was free to heft the weight of her breasts and use my fingers to pinch and roll her nipples, while maintaining an attack on the soft skin of her neck. Thankfully, this particular blouse didn't have any of those silly tiny buttons that I had found so frustrating in the past and I was able to unfasten them with one hand while continuing to squeeze Maribeth's tit with my other. Soon the blouse joined the jacket on the chair.

Since I had expertly scouted out the territory with my hand, the revelation that Maribeth had chosen a pretty lime colored half bra wasn't a surprise, and I observed that it was doing a wonderful job of encasing her breasts in a most erotic position. As with most half bras, her areola were partially visible and it seemed that the cloth barely covered her nipples. In addition the bra seemed engineered to push her tits together just enough that it enhanced her cleavage and the soft upper slopes of her alabaster breasts.

When I slipped one bra strap from her slim shoulders, I kissed my way down her neck to the place I had just uncovered. When Maribeth felt my lips there, I got another soft "ummmm," and she reached behind her and used her hands to pull me tighter against her.

I had not removed my left hand from the task of fondling her tits, but my right, which had slipped the strap off her shoulders, moved to the clasp in the center of her back. Over the years with Maribeth, I had developed a knack for dispensing with her bra using this one handed technique and I did so again.

I held her cups tightly against her even after I had removed the only thing, other than my hand, that kept them in place. Maribeth leaned back enough to look at me over her shoulder and I thought I saw the expression she sometimes uses when she silently askes me, "what are you doing?"

I responded with just a smile, but I did bend forward enough to reach her lips. At the same time, I let her bra drop to the ground and cupped her now naked breast with my whole hand. The combination of this dual attack on lips and tits resulted in a long moan that was delivered directly into my mouth.

This lasted for but a moment when Maribeth turned and pressed herself against me. Her hands pushed my navy blue blazer off my shoulders and were soon working on the buttons of my shirt which she dispensed with in short order. Once naked above the waist we embraced and enjoyed the feeling of Maribeth's soft tits pressed against my hairy chest.

"I've really, really missed you." Maribeth whispered in my ear. I pulled back and lifted her breasts with my hands, then lowering my lips, I kissed each nipple in turn and affirmed that I missed her too.

The room was beginning to get warm, so the removal of all remaining clothing happened quickly if not exactly erotically. There is a moment in every single one of our encounters where I anxiously wait to see what Maribeth has chosen to do with her pussy. Over the years, I have been treated with everything from a full bush ( which in Maribeth's case is quite modest) to as bare as a baby's cheek.

This time, she was revealed to be nearly trimmed, with just enough hair to slightly obscure the beginning of her slit peaking out from between her legs. Maribeth always seems to bask in my gaze and she appeared to take the opportunity to pose for my benefit. I've asked her about this behavior in the past, and she's explained that she feels a warmth that covers her body when she knows I'm looking at her, particularly when she's naked.

As close as we were, I could smell her arousal and I was seriously tempted to bury my face between her legs to discover the source, but before I could act on this impulse, she took my hand and opened the glass door to the bathroom. The shower was set into one of the corners. It appeared to be engineered in such a way that it was largely open and I was puzzled when it appeared that there was no drain.

Maribeth adjusted the spray and I took a moment to appreciate the view of water coating her skin and dripping from the tips of her breasts. The mystery of the drain was solved when I observed the water disappearing through slits in the floor and I assumed that this was the reason that the shower appeared so open planned in the first place.

Most of the time when we shower, Maribeth has tried to minimize getting her hair wet since, as I've observed, it takes a long time to get it dry again. She's told me that when she's "on duty" she wears her hair in a bun, usually I've seen her wear it long. Today it was twisted together and wrapped around her head using some technique that I thought was impossible.

In any event, we soon found a position where we were both receiving our share of the warm water, but Maribeth was keeping her hair out of range for the most part. I took the lead in soaping, but, as you might expect, I chose to work on Maribeth first. Personally I think women's breasts are especially well designed to be soaped and I endeavored to cover them as completely as possible.