Sarah's Indiscretions

But she was good, her response coming back immediately. "No, thank you. I, er, I'm sure I'll take a long lazy shower and think about the day, before I crawl into my space" – she looked askance at the bed "and, I'm SURE I'll be fine..." She moved towards him, pressuring him that it was time to leave.

"Are you sure" he said, looking straight into her eyes.

"Yes. I am." She let the words hang between them. "For tonight, at least".

He stumbled slightly as he backed out of the room – God, he was a klutz today! And then, he was in the hallway, as she closed the door in his face, his last sight of her, a smile and a wink. He was SURE it was a wink, but dammit, maybe he was just dreaming... Slowly, he turned, and walked the two rooms down to his own, tiredness sweeping over him in those twenty paces. Ah well. Win Some : Lose Some.

In less than ten minutes he was dead to the world, weariness flooding over him, but not before his last conscious thoughts were of her, naked, as best he could visualize, which put a smile on his face.

The next day – the first of the Show – was a blurred, manic parade of clients, as Neil swept him along, making introductions and glad-handing them all. Paul tried to keep up and he felt, to his credit, that he held his own fairly well, the very fact that he was Publisher, adding stature to him in the eyes of the clients. He was well greeted, and during the afternoon he actually became comfortable – meeting people he knew as well, which lent an air of conviviality to the whole affair. He was unable to get to their booth until late in the afternoon, having managed to lose Neil along the way. Three of the girls were there, including Sarah who was, this time, dressed in a formal light gray suit and gray satin blouse. They all three smiled, as he gagged up his entrance, staggering as if he were drunk.

"I hope your feet feel better than mine" he said, grimacing, and sidling to one of the empty sofa chairs on the booth. Glancing at his watch, he said "How're things? Much business?" Gina, one of the assistants promptly started to fill him in on "traffic flow" at the booth, and generally outlining how their publications had been accepted. He half listened, watching Sarah dealing with a client-prospect, her back to him as he sat, his head at her waist height. He simply watched as she moved slightly on her heels and again, imagined her out from under the clothing. He actively sighed, and Gina was perplexed for a few seconds, knowing that she'd "lost him" and regretting that she'd said something that didn't meet with his approval.

Finally, it came to an end, the loudspeakers broadcasting the fact that the show was now closed, and "...we look forward to meeting you all again, tomorrow, this time at eleven o'clock...."

He had left but now returned to the booth, remembering to recover his briefcase which was stored in one of their cupboards in the booth. Angie – the third girl – was just covering their exhibits with a dust cover. "Er, Angie – do you know where Sarah is, please? – I have to give her some client application cards that I've picked up...." He paused, letting her finish.

"I think she's already left the show. Neil – Mr. Richards, was talking with her, and I think they may have gone to the Hotel bar..." She shrugged apologetically, as he thanked her, and said that he'd see her tomorrow. Perhaps he'd drop by the bar on the way back to his room.

But she wasn't there, and he caught the elevator to the sixth floor. He'd take a shower and a nap, maybe calling Jilly first, as he planned the evening ahead. Yawning, he keyed the lock and entered his room, to see the blinking red light on the phone, indicating a message. Listening, he took three messages, one from Jilly – telling him that he hadn't answered his cell-phone, where was he? (it probably didn't work inside the exhibit hall), one from a client with an offer to lunch with them tomorrow, and then her accented brief verbal note. "I was thinking about dinner at eight. Hmmm? Call me?" Now, just what the HELL did THAT mean?

"Hello. It's Paul" he stammered as she answered the phone. He called on his bravado. "Was that an invitation......or are you just informing me of your whereabouts?"

"What would you like to think?" The slightly lowered voice betrayed her nervousness.

"I think that maybe we should decide whether we eat 'in house' – or somewhere away from the Hotel. What would you suggest?" But, he knew immediately that his daydreams had been answered.

"How about we grab a cab. I know a little bistro that's away from the madding crowd. Meet you in reception at eight on the dot!" And the phone went dead before he could create a response. He hung up slowly, re-ordering his chain of thoughts, back to reality. He must phone Jilly. Keep the peace on the home front if nothing else.

He realized that they'd both drunk too much, the two bottles of wine plus various aperitifs prior to dinner now settling in his brain – and hers, too – so that they were both giggling as he ordered coffees for them. "Two double-espressos, please – with plenty of chocolate sprinkles on top....", the waiter nodding as he made his way back to the serving area.

The subdued lighting of the café lent a glow to her that he couldn't resist; dressed in a deep blood-red cocktail dress she shimmered across the table at him, and he lusted after her knowing that this was the last thing he should be doing. Hell, they'd "only just" met, yet there was something about her that he hadn't experienced in a long time, an animalistic tension that was tangible between them. She felt it too, her reactions to his banter, and sexual innuendos indicating that – as he pushed the envelope – she was not offended by the by-play of words, and, in fact, acquiesced to the un-expressed intimation that there would be more between them than just talk and double-entendres.

Another half-hour passed, as they finished the coffees, and he finally paid the bill. She'd excused herself to visit the Ladies Room, and now sat back across from him and they both knew that they would have to leave and face the situation that had been at bay all evening. She had grown quiet, confusing him somewhat, but as they stood to leave the café she brushed against him, and, by just touching his hand, their fingers briefly inter-twined as he held her jacket for her, he knew that she was feeling responsive to him.

They stood for only a moment outside the café as a cab approached – and picked them up. "The Hotel? – or...??" he left the option to her but she didn't hesitate.

"The Hotel." Short and sweet. Her eyes flashed in the neon reflection from the café's window signs and she ducked into the cab ahead of him. He gave the driver the name and they both sat back, she close to him. As his hand found hers, she said "That was a lovely meal, thank you." She paused for just a second, and leaned into him to kiss his cheek, but he'd turned toward her at the same moment, and their lips brushed briefly. She pulled back a few inches and looked into his eyes. "Wait. Let's get back into some privacy." She glanced at the back of the driver's head and Paul knew that she was slightly nervous.

He squeezed her hand gently. There was no need for explanations, or discussions. It was unsaid, but the decision had been made, independently and yet with their thoughts parallel. They sat back in silence, as the cab wound its way back, every traffic light being red and they had to sit silent, the air burning between them. Suddenly, she leaned close to his ear.

"I don't know where this is going – and I've never done this before" – her voice, a throaty whisper – "but" – and at this, she took his right hand, placing it between her thighs high enough so that he could feel the stocking top, and yet leaving him to make his own way any further – "I took off my panties in the loo – can you feel the heat?....". And he could. He'd visibly stiffened as she's whispered into his ear, and he turned to look at her, just inches apart. His hand lay on her left thigh, his skin against the smooth hem of the dress. She just stared back at him as he started to slide the hand upwards, pushing against the pressure of the hem's tightness around her thighs and hips. She continued to look deeply into his eyes as his little finger moved against the softness of her dewy curls in the triangle that he could only envisage, his mind racing.

She flinched very slightly, and drew in her breath as his hand, now more forcefully, moved against the obvious wetness of her sex. With his hand almost vertically between her thighs, she parted them, her knees moving outward to allow him the space to turn his hand around. Her breathing started to come stronger as he raised his hand to let his fingers trail over her sex, now pulsing and hot as he stroked. Her eyes closed and she sank back further into the seat, sliding forward and giving him even more room as the dress rose up. She was naked underneath, and he began with the lightest of strokes to caress her. His knowledge of female anatomy was such that he could feel exactly how she was opening up to him. God, she must be horny! His own erection pushed stiffly against his own underwear and grew harder as he realized that she was actually moving against his hand, just slightly, but enough to cause her the smallest of sighs – her eyes had long ago closed – as he continued to stroke her.

She leaned into him even more, slumping back as the feelings began to control her body's reactions. It was going even better than he could have planned, but now, as he looked at her slightly strained face and furrowed brows as her sexuality took over, he knew that this would be more than just a one-night stand. He was beginning to feel an emotion that grew as he caressed her, a feeling of responsibility to pleasure her, but more than that, treat her with the greatest respect – and, yes, dammit, love! But, they could play, also! And that's what he wanted now, to tease her, to bring the pleasures she – no, they – wanted. He caressed her opening more strongly, his hand actually quite wet from her juices and she actually moaned slightly. He glanced forward to see if the cab driver had noticed, but he was either very discreet – or simply unaware of them, above the quiet radio chatter from the Cab company.

He leaned into her, to whisper in her left ear. "Is that nice?" – and she nodded dreamily, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Good, then I think it's time we either went for broke or – maybe..." and here, he delayed his stroking as a frown appeared above her closed eyes ..."maybe I should slow everything down?" She almost shoved against him, trying to get him to start again, and he obliged, his index finger curling up on itself, as he inserted into her, feeling her stiffen as he began to stroke her much more strongly, pulling his finger up against her clit as he came all the way out of her, before pressing against her as he re-entered. Her sex literally opened under his caressing and he felt the nub of her clitoris growing as her rubbed her with even stronger strokes.

She began to squirm, her eyes still closed but her mouth had opened, her tongue flicking at her lips to moisten them somewhat. He leaned against her face, and licked her lips, his tongue lavishing his own moisture on them, and she grunted under his ministrations, smiling a little as he continued his hand's movements. But she would have to wait. He hadn't noticed, but the cab was turning into the forecourt of the hotel and they were going to have to stop!

"Open your eyes – we're there!" He quickly removed his hand from between her thighs as she opened her eyes and groaned a little as she realized that – at least for now – she'd have to make like a Lady. As the cab came to a halt however, he did one little thing that had more sexuality in it than she's seen for a long time. He pulled his finger up to her lips and then kissed her – and it – with them both tasting her sex juices at the same time. "Not long, and we can get back to finishing what we've started!" His whispering in her ear illustrating his own growing needs. They grinned at each other in the lights from the foyer of the hotel, and the cabbie turned around, impassive but obviously aware of their feelings.

"That'll be sixteen-fifty." Paul reached for his wallet, and giving the driver a twenty and indicating 'no change', moved over to the door, and exiting, pulled her out after him to stand, holding her as the taxi moved away.

She was a woman unsatisfied, and they both knew now, what would happen. "Let's get inside" she said, as she shivered just a little. "Will you check the back of my dress? Am I leaking onto it?" He smiled at her, and discreetly hung back a step or two. She looked at him and he nodded 'No' before taking her arm as they turned to enter the revolving doors. The brightness of the lobby made them squint their eyes, and they then both hurried across to the elevator, now apart physically but with the same shared hunger. The elevator came and as the doors shut, she reached across to kiss his lips. He flicked his eyes up as she did, and noticed the small video camera placed strategically in the corner of the roofline.

"Smile! You're on candid camera!" – and she started, noticing his gaze upwards.

"Oh well, I don't care" and with that, put both arms around his neck, forcing him down to kiss her again. However, within seconds they were at the Sixth, and they were able to exit to turn towards their rooms. Decision time. How would she play? But his thought was answered immediately. "Can you give me ten minutes?" She paused, as if thinking things through. "Er, if that is, if you want to, er, continue...."

He looked at her, deeply. Their eyes locked and he answered somewhat huskily. "Of course, but, take the ten minutes, let me check my phone, and then I'll call you before I come along, - if that's okay with you...?" She nodded her assent, and began to walk away towards her own room, leaving him standing outside his.

It was actually closer to fifteen minutes before he called – he'd dashed into the shower deciding that whatever the blinking message light on the phone meant, it would have to wait until morning! She answered with a "Hello?" – hoping that it was him, but afraid that it would be somebody else – possibly her husband calling in from California...and then his breathing into the phone announced his presence.

"It's me." He paused, and against his wishes offered her the escape route. "Changed your mind?" But she only paused a few seconds.

"Not if you haven't?" She answered immediately,

"Leave the door on the latch, I'll be right there" and in less than thirty seconds he pushed at the door to 616 to enter a dimly lit, mirror-version of his own room. He turned and latched the door to lock and then entered the main room past the bathroom. She was nowhere in the room, but as he turned again, he heard – and then saw – her emerge from the darkened bathroom. She'd changed into a creamy-white negligee and as he looked at her – very appreciatively – he could see her nipples standing dark and strong beneath the satiny material.

She started to speak – opening her mouth, but he placed a finger against her lips. "Ssshh. Do we need to talk any more" and she simply shook her head 'No' for him to lean to kiss her, holding her around the waist with both arms. She folded into him, pressed up against his re-growing erection, which she could feel through his pants. Her right hand went down to between their legs, and she rubbed him gently.

"You know, you're somewhat over-dressed for this meeting!" – and she pulled back from him, kneeling now, to un-latch his belt buckle, and zipper. He shrugged off his jacket and then started to unbutton his shirt as she completed her own work. Pushing him backwards slightly, she pinioned his legs against the tail of the bed, and he was forced to sit, almost falling on his back, his arms trapped in his shirt. In seconds, she had removed both his shoes, socks – one of which he'd have great trouble finding four hours later – and then his trousers, sliding them off him as he removed his shirt finally. She could see his erection and the small wet stain on his boxers that gave away his readiness, even in the dim glow of the bedside light. The thought of him needing her accelerated her own passion.

Standing, she watched him as he lay, looking up at her. Again she smiled, and ever so slowly, shrugged herself out of the negligee, leaving her naked, bathed in the pale glow from the one bedside light. She was radiant and he almost gasped at her beauty. Breasts that were swollen from the erotic situation, nipples that showed their eagerness for his kiss and a modest hand in front of her dark curly vee at her center. He lay and held out an arm to her, and she gently fell forward into his arms. Their lips met and began devouring each other as their passions rose, she regaining the feeling that his fingers had generated less than an hour before.

Gently he reversed her, so that she lay on her back and he could take control of the situation, gently nuzzling into the dewy moistness between her legs. She gasped as his tongue found her center and caressed her clitoris, bringing spasms of fire. Jerking spasmodically as he slid his fingers into her wetness to caress her inner nerve endings, she sighed as the growing need for satisfaction flowed through her, his tongue taking her into a raging urgency and a need for orgasm, that critical death that she loved so well, that she gave herself up to the pleasures that his ministrations worked on her. Only minutes had passed as he worked, but she was very close, knowing that this was far too quick but now she needed to have the release, and groaned as he worked her over, his tongue slurping as she flooded his mouth with her juices.

His fingers stroked her, pressuring the sexuality of herself into the explosion that would rip her apart. Suddenly, she was going over the edge, but he had slowed his sliding fingers into a slower rhythm keeping her hovering for more seconds than she wanted, until finally, she thrust her hips down to maximize the sensations. Her orgasm stared way down in her thighs, an electric ripple that fired up through her, her vagina now roasting hot. She threw her arms over her head stretching herself taut under him, as he chewed her clit and resumed the faster stroking, turning his fingers to caress the G-spot, almost violently, as he pressured his fingertips against the inner cavities.

Her screams were muffled by the bed-sheet she'd pulled around her in the writhing of her orgasm, biting on it as she did, knowing that she was very vocal in climax and somewhere – way back in the back of her mind – not wanting the rest of the hotel to hear her. Her buttocks were off the bed, and he almost fought her as she growled her way through the fires of ecstasy, as she supported herself, feet on the bed and knees bent as she pushed herself upwards towards him and grasped for the final electric shocks as they died away under her......

Slowly she returned to some form of regular breathing, resuming a level and evenness that took minutes to flatten out to anything near normal. He had stopped his working her over, her hands having grasped his as she closed down after the climax, not being able to stand him touching her sensitive parts any longer. Finally, having let go of his hands, he was able to pull himself up against her, and put his arms around her as he lay on his side. Minutes passed as they lay there, his hardness against her. Although she was in a dream-state, she was aware of his presence, and his breath in her ear, as he waited for her to recover. Finally, as she lay there, eyes closed, and her body now utterly calm, he said "Well, that was something else, I think?"