The Hotel: A True Story

Personal note:

First, thank you all for the many encouraging comments about my first story. This is my first try at writing so I appreciate the support. I also want to clarify, these are true stories. And yes the humiliation of inadvertent and compelled exposure is very powerfully arousing for me. It's not voluntary exposure that excites, but a happening because of circumstance that renders me publicly exposed. In any case, I hope you enjoy this as well. Lisa

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"Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, we apologize for the delay. There appears to be some confusion about our gate assignment, so we will be waiting here on the tarmac for a while longer."

The resulting groan from inside the cabin probably could have been heard from the control tower.

First, our gate had changed in Houston and we had all had to race, not just to another gate, but to a different concourse. Then, we had been delayed in leaving while waiting for a crew. Then we had sat stacked on the runway. By the time we arrived in Atlanta, I was hot, tired, uncomfortable and irritated. Worst of all I had gone on this trip for a business convention at the last minute and the only seat available was a middle seat, and you guessed it, I was right between two very large people.

"At least," I thought, "if the plane crashed, I wouldn't have to rely on just my seatbelt to keep me from flying forward."

Finally we got to the gate. The sun was about to go down and I had been on a plane all day for what should have been a three hour trip. Fortunately, my luggage made it as well, so after struggling to get it out of the carousel, I dragged my bag out to the cab stand and into a sweltering evening. My cab ride was just another ordeal as the car's air conditioner was broken and by the time I reached the hotel, I was feeling really sweaty and gross.

The hotel was across the street from the convention site and though I would have preferred staying in the hotel there, but my last minute arrangements had me at the next best place. On the plus side, the clerk was very nice and apologized that she had to put me on the second floor where she warned I might still hear some street noise. I said I didn't care as long as the a-c worked.

She laughed and assured me I would be happy with the room. She explained the hotel had tinted the room windows so that they were a light barrier and stayed even cooler. I thanked her and dragged the bag to the elevator. After a hike down the hall and three attempts at the electronic key in the door, the fates smiled and I was in my room. It was very nice. The bathtub was a Jacuzzi style and I for the first time in hours felt optimistic. I twisted the spigots and the water started filling.

It was actually starting to get dark outside by then. The western sky was streaked with red and pink. I turned on the lights in the room and immediately started to undress. I could not wait to get out of my sweaty clothing and rapidly stripped down to my birthday suit. Finally, as I took of my bra and panties, the cool air on my skin hit me like an epidermal refreshment. I stood in the middle of the room and held my arms up so that every inch of me could cool. The gauzy curtain and the tinted windows allowed me to see out, at the elegant hotel above the convention center across the street and the sunset that was a glorious display between the buildings without allowing anyone else to see in. Or so I assumed.

As I wrote in my other story, I am a naturally modest, "body self-conscious" (a term I heard on Oprah about women who get extremely embarrassed showing any anatomy) divorced mom of one child. When this happened I was 32 and had been divorced 4 years. I have short blonde hair-yes I color it- a cute face, stand 5-3 and weighed about 115 when this happened. I had a rather excessive breast augmentation, an idea of my ex husband's nine years earlier and so my measurements are 34DD 28 36. By that time my breasts were "settled" and though they are too big in my opinion, they do move and even hang a little like naturals. My ex even nicknamed them, to a very embarrassing effect, which he loved. Because unfettered they actually move and "knock" against each other with the slightest movement, he started calling them my "knockers". Even now that very term makes me blush.

So there I was, standing arms up, eyes closed, as I cooled off facing the window, believing I was invisible because of the window treatment. The room was just getting to a perfectly icy temperature when my cell phone suddenly rang. It was my boss calling to brief me on some issues I might encounter at the conference the next day. I immediately became caught up in the conversation and switched to my hands-free ear-bob so I could start unpacking as we talked.

I bent over unzipping the bag and started putting things away. My business pantsuit went in the closet. My underwear went in the drawers. Back and forth I went, obliviously chattering away. At times I paused as he made a point and reacted. As I think I explained previously, I am half Italian and so I "talk with my hands" expressively. I gestured and moved like I was talking to someone standing right there or in the board room.

At one point as I walked across the room I stepped on something sharp and hopped a few steps. In my naked state it had some pretty profound secondary anatomical effects. My breasts banged against each other and bounced as did my buns. I sat down on the bed facing the window and raised my foot up to inspect it. In that position one leg was turned outward while the other was bent at the knee and my foot was pulled up to my face. Needless to say, it created quite an awkward position that really opened my thighs. But no one could see in so, it did not bother me in the least. I finished the call, and had just hung up when I saw something across the street that drew my attention. I walked over, and hiding behind the curtain, peered out at what seemed to be a commotion in some of the rooms across the way. In two rooms some people appeared to be having a cocktail party.

"No doubt a business gathering after hours," I thought.

They all seemed energized, laughing and all of them were looking at my window. I glanced over and saw several other rooms with men standing looking in my direction as well. A sudden, horrifying awareness began to churn my stomach. Then I saw the digital cameras and the cell phones being held up.

In the room with the large gathering, a woman pointed directly at me as she turned to say something to the rest of the group. They erupted in laughter as she turned back and look right at my face. Then I knew. With the lights on, the gauze curtain and the tinting were completely neutralized. They had all had a completely unobstructed view of me for the last half hour.

I immediately realized what they had observed. I had walked around! I had bent over! I had hopped! I had inspected my foot facing them! The humiliation crashed over me like a wave. I turned and RAN to the light switch and doused the room in darkness, realizing that as I did it they had seen, for all practical purposes, a rear view of a mini-streak!

I couldn't help myself. I went back to the window now hidden and looked out. The crowd was still laughing and clapping. The shame that they were laughing and had seen what I never intended just pierced me. Two of the people in the room wrote on a big piece of paper and held it up like a message.

It said, "Encore!"

I wanted to die.

That night I could not shed the disempowerment, the very sensation of public nudity and humiliation, the utter crushing victimization of such exposure for their amusement. And I got very aroused. It was an overpowering sensation of humiliation and despair and intense physical sexual reaction. I lay back on the bed and spread my legs. Shamed, I reached down below the rectangle of trimmed black hair and stroked softly along the shaved folds of my vagina. Greedily, I peeled back the protective flesh around my clitoris and strummed it. My breathing came faster and my nipples erupted in thick knobs of electric sensation. I reached up and gently twisted and pulled as my body began its inevitable intense trip to a crashing waterfall of an orgasm. As it did, I thought of the disabling experience of being seen so privately, and providing such humiliating entertainment for a bunch of people.

The result was intense and recurrent. I literally had a multiple "O".

The next day, I got up dressed, and went across the street to the conference. At first things were okay. I visited the vendor's area, listened to a couple of presentations and then I started to notice something. Some people, men and women, stared at me. The looks ranged from curiosity to downright- how shall I say this- knowing, mocking smiles. That is when it hit me. They recognized me.

The realization was crippling. I blushed and became immediately so self conscious. I fled the area and tried to find a private place to collect myself, but no matter where I went I seemed to run into someone that I was just sure recognized me.

A middle aged balding man said, "Well hello!"

I tuned and hurriedly walked away.

Another man in his sixties grinned at me and looked me up and down blatantly. He also looked at my company identification badge for the conference. My jaw dropped and my eyes went wide. I felt as good as naked right in front of him. It was worse when he said all suggestively, "Well, hello Lisa. It's nice to put a name to a body!"

I turned and was about to leave the hall when a woman who had walked up behind me said, "Well, if isn't Miss Two tone...."

For the second time in twenty-four hours I ran away from the scrutiny of these people.

Behind me, I heard the sound of their crippling laughter at my expense. I came home and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I have replayed the situation a hundred times. And always with the same hypersexually arousing result.

Again, I have more stories. If you like these, let me know and I'll keep going.

Lisa

Aka *Oops on lit chat and WardrobeOops in Lit personals