Strangers in a Hotel Bar

Earlier this week this story was uploaded from a corrupted file that reverted to a previous draft. Not only were there myriad spelling and grammatical errors, but only about 1/3 of the story was posted. If you read that draft, I apologize for the problems and invite you to read the full story. If not, then I'm just glad you're here to read this one.

*****

I had been in Argentina for three months on an assignment and when my plane touched down in Atlanta, the only thing in the world that I was interested in was going home for a well needed hot shower, change of clothes, and some down time.

Now there's nothing wrong with Argentina. Actually it's a pretty wonderful place. The people there are warm and open, the mountains are beautiful, the women are gorgeous and the food is pretty great compared to a lot of the other places I've been. (If you've never tried asado, you haven't seen Shakespeare the way it was meant to be played.) But it's also hot and dusty all the time, and my job was to protect a group of business men stationed there for a trade negation. This meant I spent a lot of time standing around outside in the sun in a wool suit trying not to die of heat stroke or dehydration. My company only sent me down there for a week, and I had packed accordingly, but a week ran into three months, and I was just ready to have some other clothes on.

My layover was in Atlanta, and then I caught the short flight over to Houston where I would rent a car and drive back home. It's a pleasant drive and I was looking forward to unwinding, but as soon as I landed in Houston I turned on my phone and watched as my screen populated with missed calls, messages and emails. If I was smart I would have ignored them. If I had been wise enough to learn from my mistakes in the past, I would have rented my car and gotten an hour down the road before I "remembered" to turn my phone on. But that's just not the way the way I'm wired up.

Every one of my messages said basically the same thing: Call the home office right away.

Fuck! I knew my plans for some R&R were done before I even finished dialing.

I work as a security consultant. It's a great job, pays well, allows me to travel and has a lot of other perks, but unfortunately there isn't a lot of time for a personal life. There is always one emergency after another. Most of the work I do is corporate security. Helping companies protect their secrets is a multibillion dollar industry in the United States because stealing company secrets is just as lucrative. This could be anything from private health care data, to lists of assets or the details of their newest invention right before they go to patent with it. For the most part I stopped doing personal protection three promotions ago, but the trip to Argentina was a high profile job for my company and they wanted somebody in management out there, and I drew the fuzzy end of that lollypop.

"What," I answered very briskly when my boss came on the line.

"Paul, is that you?" He asked. My boss' name was Gregory, but he insisted on being called Greg or Gary or even Buddy. When I thought about him I always compared him to Bill Clinton. Despite a passing physical resemblance to our former president, he was the kind of guy that never met a stranger. Everyone was his friend, another pal, or ally for his cause. Also, his sincerity in all of this was often called into question. It made him very successful, but also made him annoying to deal with. It meant I was going to have to try extra hard to get out of whatever he wanted me to do.

"Yeah Buddy, it's me." I said, still trying to sound cold. "Whatever you're going to ask me to do the answer is no! I am tired, I am mad, and I only have two suits with me and they both smell like horse shit and sweat. I need to go home, regroup and re outfit before I do anything else."

"PAUL!" He said in his most solicitous voice. "It's great to hear from you. I was worried I wouldn't catch you in time." He took control of the conversation in a heartbeat by simply ignoring anything I had to say. Charismatic bastard.

"Buddy, I'm serious, I need a breather."

"I get that, Paul I do. I want you to take that breather. You're far too valuable around here for us to loose due to burn out. "

"But..." I prompted, knowing without a doubt that I was getting greased up for a fucking.

"But I need someone in Houston for 24 hours until our main team can get there. It's just one day and then you can take all the time off you want."

"What do you mean main team?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"We just signed a huge contract with Theta Logistics. They're a drilling company headquartered in Houston. We're getting a whole team together to do a top down security audit, but it will be tomorrow night before they're on scene. I promised them we would have the advance man on site tomorrow morning, and you're the only person close enough to get there in time. It's only 24 hours, you get a bonus, the thanks of a grateful company and all the vacation you want when you're done. You can't say no to that, can you?"

I let the silence hang on the phone for a long time. I really didn't want to do this, but the idea of another bonus caught my attention. I would be getting a very nice one for my extended stay in Argentina, and another one on top of that would mean a new car, or even a down payment on a bigger house. My company could be very generous.

"Paul, I can hear you thinking about it over the phone. Just say yes and make both of us happy."

I chuckled. He was laying his charm down hard. I knew it was all an act, but the man was good at what he did.

"I was serious about my suits. They're just filthy, and I don't think a simple dry cleaning is going to cut it. I flew back in jeans and a t-shirt I picked up down there. "

"Here's what you do", he said. "Get a car and head over to the Galleria. I'll book you a suite at the Post Oak Hilton and after you check in you can head on down to one of the clothiers there and get a couple of new suits. Put them on the company card and I'll write them off. Get something nice. I think there is an Armani shop there."

I held my breath to see if the offer would get any better. It didn't.

"Come on, you know you want to say yes..."

"Alright, fine." I said a bit begrudgingly. "But you're going to owe me one."

I hung up the phone while he was still chuckling good naturedly. I could imagine the shit eating grin on his face that said he knew he had me wrapped around his little finger. I was in my early 30s then, and I knew this was the time to build my nest egg, work the long hours and set myself up for the future.

I went to the baggage claim, got my things and headed for the Galleria.

***

If you've never been to the Houston Galleria, it's really a site to see. Maybe it's not the 9^th wonder of the world, but the first time I ever saw it was when I was about six years old it was the most wonderful place on earth at the time. Three stories of shopping with an ice skating rink in the center that you could watch from any floor because of the open plan. Above the first three floors were another several floors of offices and hotel rooms. Everything you could ever want, or so it seemed, was right there in that building. There is even a story about an oil baron that went crazy and lived in the Galleria in the 80s bringing in coke and hookers. I forget all of the details, but he was eventually arrested, or killed, or committed suicide. Some type of spectacular end to a man that had led an extravagant and spectacular life.

Greg was true to his word and when I checked in, a suite was waiting for me. The suites at the Post Oak Hilton aren't exactly the lap of luxury, but compared to what I had been staying in in Argentina it was pretty nice. The suites have a little extra room and a couch and a bigger TV. That's about it really, but it beat the hell out of a folding cot in the back of a walk in pantry. (Yes, that's really where I was sleeping in Argentina. When you put five extra guys for a security detail in a house that's already at capacity, you get used to sleeping wherever you can)

I set down my bags, stripped right there in the middle of the room and jumped in the shower. Nothing gets you dirty in quite the same way that traveling does. After my third go around with the suds, I picked my least dirty clothes out of my suitcase and got dressed back in the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, and seeing myself naked I suddenly realized that it had been almost three months since the last time I got laid, and that may be the longest time I had gone since I was a teenager. There was a woman when I had first gotten to Cordoba. She had been one of the caretakers of the house where we were staying. It was a brief fling, but passionate in trying to find little out of the way places to sneak off and fool around. She had small breasts, and cinnamon skin, and the darkest nipples I had ever seen on a woman. We would both get covered in sweat almost instantly in that hot place, and when she came she would gasp over and over while her body shook with pleasure.

She had been in her early 20s and still under her father's roof. When he found out about us from one of the maids he moved her to stay with family in another city. Pillar was her name. I missed the feel of her under my hands and wondered where she was now and if she had found another lover. I felt sure she had. The desire for sex was a palpable burning inside of her.

Back in the real world my first stop was a casual clothing store. I purchased a pair of khakis and a collared shirt. I changed in the dressing room and stuffed the clothes I was wearing into the bag the new clothes came in. It felt nice to just wear something different and clean for the first time in a long time.

It was already past lunch and I knew it would take a while to pick out my suits. So I went to Armani. A nice elderly gentleman helped me make a selection of two suits. One was black pen stripe and a second charcoal grey; white shirts for both and no ties. I rarely wear ties.

The pants needed to be taken in, and they told me it would be about an hour. They do the alterations there. I left to find a nice place for lunch and some cold beers. Both were easy to find. I took my time eating to make sure the store had enough time for the alterations. When I went back I paid the rather large clothing bill with my company credit card, picked up my merchandise and went back to the hotel.

I was still on a different time zone, and the large meal, the stress of travel and the beers all spelled nap time to me. I knew I wouldn't have anything else to do until morning anyway, and I fell into the luxurious queen size bed and stretched out for the first time in three months and slept the sleep of the dead!

***

When I woke up I was as disoriented as I could possibly be. Have you ever awakened in a strange place and couldn't remember where you were, what time it was, or what you were doing? The room was completely dark, I didn't know if it was day or night, I had left the air conditioner on high and the room was freezing and for the longest time, or so it seemed, I couldn't even remember what country I was in. I jumped out of bed and grabbed my phone to check the time. The light on the giant, bright screen was blinding, and it took me a moment to bring it into focus enough to read the time as 10:30pm.

I found the lamp switch with the light from the phone and turned it on. I killed the AC because it was too cold and I let the adrenaline rush fall back to normal. I hadn't overslept. Everything was okay. I was right where I needed to be.

Still naked, I walked to the windows and opened the curtains. It was full dark outside, but that didn't really make that much of a difference. The light from Houston at night gives everything a shallow orange glow to it and there are almost no shadows. My room faced away from downtown, so the view wasn't great, but at least it was familiar. I travel to Houston a lot and know the town pretty well.

The best thing for me would probably have been to just go back to bed and try to catch up on some sleep. Stress, long days and shitty conditions drain the body, and sleep is the only cure. But I was feeling restive and wanted to move about a bit. Waking up so disoriented had given me a start, and I knew it would be a while before I could get back to bed. Maybe a few drinks in the bar would be the ticket. Maybe I could find something else there also.

The thought of someone to warm my bed tonight sent a soft twinge to my groin, and I felt myself begin to stiffen.

"Well, if I'm gonna try to get laid, I might as well dress for the occasion." I said out loud to no one in particular. I went to the little makeshift closet in the room and retrieved my new grey suit. I preferred the color grey in most things and I knew the pen strip was too business formal for the occasion. I combed my hair, freshened my teeth and dressed quickly. The bathroom mirror only showed down to my waist, but the suit looked good none the less. Armani lines the inside of their pants with a softer material that makes them slide over your legs in a most pleasing way, so I opted to go without underwear to heighten the experience. Also, I hadn't picked up anything fresh while I was shopping today.

After checking to make sure I had everything I needed in my pockets, I slipped a small glassine bag out of a hidden compartment in my luggage and into my inside breast pocket of the jacket. "Nothing wrong with a little insurance", I thought and headed out the door.

***

There are several bars around the Post Oak, but I chose a nice one that was dark and smoky and attracted a lot of business people. It was still inside the Galleria and just outside the doors of the hotel. There was a convention of some kind in town and the bar was almost packed. There was no space at the bar itself, and I noticed that waitresses were servicing the tables. I spotted two people leaving from a corner, and grabbed their table before they were completely gone.

"Hi", I heard over my shoulder in a too chirpy voice. "I'm Rachel. I'll be your server tonight. What can I get for you?"

"Jack Daniels, please"

"Are you expecting anyone else?"

"No one in particular," I said. "But I have a feeling someone will show up eventually."

She carefully looked me up and down the way a person evaluates the odds at a race track and said "I think so too." With that she turned and left.

She was cute enough. She had short red hair and some freckles on her nose and cheeks that weren't quite covered by her makeup. I wouldn't have noticed, but she was standing under a spotlight near my table. She was wearing the traditional short sleeve white shirt and black pants of a cocktail waitress and the shirt was just thin enough for me to see she wasn't wearing a bra. She had medium sized breasts and light colored nipples. If they had been any darker, the outfit would have looked vulgar, but as it was, it was just enough sexuality that I had no doubt it doubled her tips every night.

While I waited for my drink I began to look around the room for someone that looked like she was alone or looking for company. It didn't take long to see that the men outnumbered the women five or six to one. That wasn't unusual for a convention crowd. Most of the women that were there, at least the ones I took notice of, were milling around in little groups of their coworkers. I assumed that they were talking about the day's sales and commissions or maybe the networking they had done. Something about a spreadsheet, maybe? I honestly didn't know. My job isn't like other people's and I wasn't really sure what they talked about when they had down time.

"Here you go", Rachel said with a little flourish as she set my drink down. I had ordered a double straight up, and what I got was a lot more than a double. I wasn't sure if they served all of their drinks strong here or if she was treating me special. I gave her twice the amount of the drink for a tip to keep her coming back. She smiled and said thank you.

The amber liquid felt good on the way down. I was looking at the bar, and there was a pretty little brunette at the other end of the room that didn't seem to be having nearly as much fun as her coworkers. She was tearing her cocktail napkin to shreds, and looking anywhere but at her acquaintances. They kept laughing and trying to bring her into the jokes. She would smile and look at them, and then go back to the napkin. I couldn't tell if she was lonely or sad or both. I was trying to think of a way to cull her from the pack, and had come up with a few strategies when I hear a loud KA-THUNK on the table next to me.

I spun around expecting half the wall to be caving in on me, and instead I saw a giant peach leather handbag in the center of the table.

"You don't mind do you," the owner of the hand bag said. It took me a moment to notice her over the size of her bag. She was an attractive woman in her mid-40s, slender with straight blonde hair cut in a style to remind you she was probably smarter than you were. Her suit was nice, but not extravagant and the exact same color of light peach as her hand bag. Her breasts were improbably large under her translucent white blouse and a hot pink bra was just visible enough that it caught my attention right away. It took a moment for me to make my way up to her face. She had high cheek bones and delicate wrinkles around her smile that I was willing to bet had been lessened by a talented surgeon. Her eyes were the color blue that only come from expensive contacts, not blood lines. All in all, it was a pretty nice package.

"Not at all," I said casually, offering her a smile.

"My feet are killing me!" she said and glanced under the table at her high heels as if to make the point. Her skirt stopped just above where her legs were crossed at the knees. When I followed her gaze under the table she straightened them for just a moment to show me the shoes, then tucked them back under her stool. "This was the last seat in the house. I'm glad you aren't here with anyone."

"I am now", I said. She gave me an "isn't that sweet" smile that I'm sure she used on every red blooded male she did business with and stepped out of line enough to make a pass at her.

"Are you with convention," she asked, and then looked around the room for someone or something. I took a guess that it was the waitress, and raised my right hand over my shoulder without looking back and the put it down. In a moment I heard "Yes sir" in a chirpy tone.

"Another drink please Rachel, and one for..." I trailed off to let her fill in the blank.

"Mallory," she said looking at me. Then to Rachel she said "Whatever he's having."

I smiled to myself. I liked a woman that drank hard alcohol straight up. Rachel went off to get the drinks and I focused my attention back at Mallory. I also liked older women and this one was beautiful in a hard and explicit sort of way.

"No I'm here on other business," I said. "I don't even know what the convention is for."

"It's for industrial marine equipment. You know, offshore drilling and such." She had a nice country accent that I couldn't quite place. Probably west Texas. "I've been on my feet at a booth all day. I have been DREAMING about a drink and getting out of these heels since lunch time. I didn't think it was going to happen when I saw how crowded the bar was, but you looked like you wouldn't mind the company."

She made it a question and I got the feeling she was fishing for a compliment and not just another acknowledgement that she wasn't bothering me. "Your kind of company I don't mind at all" I said with a smile.

"Thanks,' she said smiling back.