tagLesbian SexWithout Reservation

Without Reservation

bylogophile©

A very big thanks to CarsonShepherd, Impressive, English Lady and Vella for all of their help!

As I was packing my bag to go home, I once again said a silent Thank You to my editor for giving me this assignment. It was Valentine's weekend and I had been filled with dread as I thought about spending it moping around my flat watching television and eating ice cream out of the carton.

It was the one-year anniversary of the end of my marriage. I was feeling appropriately introspective. Also, lonely and self-indulgent. Pity party for one, anybody? Just as I was about to pop another bag of microwave kettle-corn and pour a Captain and Coke, I got the call from my boss.

"Hey, I know you're busy sitting around in your pajamas and eating junk, but I need you for something right now. Think you can pull yourself away?"

I grumbled something about having a real life but the fact that I was talking around a mouth full of Cheetos made it sound slightly less than convincing.

"Sure you do, sweetie. OK, here's the thing. The remodel of the Ville Belle is finally complete and they want a reporter to come down and stay for the weekend. Big suite, free food, free drinks, big hot tub... Please just give them a decent review when you're done, they're interested in buying advertising. Let's see, today's Friday – you can check in tonight and stay till Sunday noon. I need 500 words by Sunday at 3:00 p.m."

I reminded her that I'm the parenting columnist. I don't know the first thing about writing a hotel review but she flatly stated that everyone else was already busy for the holiday weekend and I was the only choice. She also promised to send me a writing guide for the piece.

"I promise it will be painless, just connect the dots and fill in the blanks. Come on, you can even take your Ben and Jerry's with you. You'll have cable TV, I know you can find some sulky chick flick and spend the evening crying your eyes out. It'll be a blast, I'm sure."

But even as I was whining about needing to finish my laundry, I was pulling out my swimsuit and dreaming of a long soak in the hot tub. I agreed to go. My kids were with their dad for the weekend and I really had nothing better to do. I scribbled down the check-in information, confirmation number and the name of my contact at the hotel. It took about 15 minutes to get myself packed and loaded into my mini-van. As I was backing out of my driveway, I remembered the still-open carton of ice cream sitting on my counter and decided to run inside to grab it. Better safe than sorry.

On the drive downtown, I tuned in a local station that plays 80's rock every Friday night and sang along with Wang Chung, "Take your baby by the heel, And do the next thing that you feel." Was there ever a better song for a radio sing-along? I couldn't think of a single one.

As I pulled up in front of the newly remodeled Ville Belle in my clunky, messy family van, I decided to skip the valet parking and hoof it from the lot. The thought of one of the well turned-out drivers seeing the inside of my car filled me with dread. I felt like a frumpy mom in a grocery-getter. I managed to park and unload my luggage without incident and headed for the doors.

I walked up the short flight of stairs to the hotel's entrance and the double doors were swung open by two handsome young men in full doorman's dress who bowed and said "Welcome" simultaneously. I suddenly felt ridiculous in my jeans, cardigan and ponytail with a duffel slung over my shoulder. I smiled weakly and mumbled my thanks as I made my way to front desk.

Once there, however, I felt much better. I was greeted warmly by the staff. "Hello Mrs. Thomas. We're so glad you're here. Just one minute, there is a packet waiting for you in the office. Here it is. This is your press kit, your parking pass, your meal vouchers and your drink card. If we've forgotten anything, please just call. Now, you have a three room suite, would you like each door to have its own key, or one for all three of them?"

Stunned, I gathered myself together and told her that one key for all three rooms would be perfect. I signed for the room, picked up my packet and waited while she called the concierge to let him know that I was here. He came right over to introduce himself and immediately rang for a bellman. I felt like a bellman might be a little bit of overkill, considering that I only had the one bag, but he insisted. With the slightest touch of a French accent he said, "Please, call me if you need anything." I was in heaven.

My bellman and I took the elevator up to the twelfth floor. He led the way to my rooms and I followed, feeling a little like a newly discovered royal. I opened the door and wandered around while my bellman tried to tell me about the room. I convincingly pretended to listen (a skill mastered by any good mom) and tipped him when he seemed to be finished.

Standing alone in my rooms, I looked around. I had at my disposal two queen size beds, a king size bed and a Murphy bed. I also had three full size closets, three coffee makers, six telephones, two regular bathrooms with shower over tub units and a masterpiece of a bathroom with a giant whirlpool tub. A nice sitting area with a huge couch and two chairs was in the center of the middle room. There was a bar with a microwave and dorm fridge. This was a lot of room for one person. It felt more than a tad excessive. But oh so good, at the same time.

I stretched out on the bed and flipped on the cable TV. Strange, I typically avoided television at home, but it seemed like such a luxury to be able to just lie around and turn my brain off. I watched a little of this and a little of that and then decided I was already bored with my remote. The rooms were so big and so empty. I wished my kids were with me. I could just picture their faces as they ran around the rooms claiming beds and squealing about the big bath tub.

Well, if they weren't here, I could always call a friend to join me. I searched my head for a likely candidate. Someone who wouldn't already be out for Valentine's Day, and who didn't have kids of their own they would need to bring. Hmmm, a single, childless friend. Oh right! I have exactly one of those. Raquel! I dialed her number quickly and literally crossed my fingers while I waited for her to answer. One ring, two rings, three rings... "Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Hello Beautiful," I said back into the phone.

"I love it when I answer the phone and it's you. You're the only person who regularly calls me Beautiful."

"Everyone else is either blind or stupid," I giggled into the phone. "So what fabulous thing are you up to on this devastatingly happy holiday?"

"Laundry. Just back from changing loads actually. I boycott Valentine's Day. It's become so Hallmark. A money maker for the rich. Sucks the blood of romance out of relationships in the name of the mighty greenback. So yeah, I'm doing laundry."

I laughed warmly at my friend's sentiments. She was a young woman, just about to graduate from college. She regularly attended gatherings of the Young Communists League and planned sneaky spy raids on the city's large corporations. Her energy was inspiring and I was glad I called.

"Here's the thing. I somehow snagged a weekend at the Ville Belle. It's a writing assignment for the magazine. They gave me this huge room, well suite of rooms really, and some wine, some cheese, and fruit. I have free food and drinks at the restaurant. And I'm dying to get in the hot tub. The downside is that I'm here alone. My kids are with their dad and I'm feeling a little blue. I was wondering if..."

"I'm on my way. Are we there for one night or two?"

Everything seemed a little brighter as I gave her directions and started changing into my swimsuit. I loved my swimsuit. I bought it last year after my separation from my husband. It was a two piece with black boy short bottoms and a black and white push-up halter top. I looked good in it. It flattered my mommy-body very nicely. It's not that I'm heavy. It's just that after three babies, I'm softer now than I used to be. My hips spread during pregnancy and were never quite the same so I've been left with a generous (but not flabby) backside. But it seems to be in balance with my large, swinging breasts which have nursed all three of my children. My waist is still pretty small, so I'm just curvy. A lover once called me "short and sweet, and good to eat." I always kind of liked that!

As I headed down to the pool area to wait for my friend, I stopped at the front desk to arrange for her meals and parking as well. They were, again, very happy to help. Once I had everything ready for her arrival, I headed for the hot tub.

There is nothing so absolutely delicious as sinking into a tub full of hot, bubbling water. The water makes you weightless and gently erases any nagging aches or pains. The sound from the jets blocks out background noises. And the bubbles tickle and massage you while obscuring the view of anything under the surface of the water. The result is an almost immediate blend of relaxation and privacy that is beyond compare.

I leaned back into the water and closed my eyes. My body went lax. My mind went blank. I was vaguely aware of the occasional person getting in and out of the hot tub, but I paid very little attention. I was blissed out and not wanting to come back. Eventually, though, my bladder got the best of me and I was forced to get out.

When I got back from the bathroom Raquel was standing near the hot tub, looking around blankly. I had a chance to look her over before she saw me and I was once again impressed. I don't call her Beautiful for nothing. She's not tall, but still taller than me. She has blond hair with nicest little bit of natural curl that hangs to her shoulder blades and big, serious brown eyes. Her pale pink skin is flawless and very healthy looking. Her entire appearance screams "innocent school girl" even from a distance. I know that she's 22, but she still looks like a teenager. Gorgeous and sweet and naïve. Looking, that is. Just as I was shaking myself out of it (as I always have to do when she's around) she turned and saw me.

Waving, I approached her and she smiled warmly at me. She walked up and started to give me a hug, but I stopped her. "I'm all wet from the hot tub, and you're still dry. Why don't you hug me after you've gotten wet too? It's miserable to have someone press their cold damp self into you!" She smiled again and took my hand instead. I led her over to the hot tub and climbed in.

She put her bag on the nearest table and started pulling off her street clothes to reveal the bikini she was wearing underneath. A solid colored deep purple top and bottom brought the pink tones out in her skin. As she turned to pull her hair up into a ponytail, I noticed her newest tattoo again. It was just a black ellipse that started at the base of her neck and was about 4 inches long. When she had first shown it to me, I asked if it was symbolic of anything. She said, "Of course it is. I'm part of the Cunt Club now. All of my friends are getting them. Girl power. No, wait. Woman power." It probably goes without saying, I love that tattoo. Watching her get ready for the hot tub raised my pulse a few beats.

This was a battle I had been fighting with myself since I met this sweet young woman three years before. It was at a big monthly meeting. Neither of us had known anyone, so we kind of just stuck together. We worked in the same field, and sometimes even on the same job. Our friendship had developed nicely into solid trust in the work place and some fun (and occasionally flirty) recreation too. She was honest and kind. And her idealism was inspiring. We had shared some secrets and she knew that I was not, strictly speaking, heterosexual. Her response was fairly typical; mild curiosity combined with a brief confession of her own unfulfilled bisexual longings. I get that a lot when I tell people about myself.

Raquel walked down the steps into the hot tub and had the same immediate all-over reaction that I had earlier. Relaxation. Relief. Release. She sat next to me and we talked casually while playing with the bubbles on the surface of the water. After several minutes the conversation quietly trailed off and we relaxed in silence. A few people continued to come and go, but the peace between us was perfect as we sat, eyes closed, and let the water hold us up.

"Um, excuse me? Miss, excuse me?" I opened my eyes to find that someone had joined us in the hot tub. A middle aged woman in glasses and a royal blue matron's swimsuit who seemed surprisingly dry was sitting next to me.

"Hello," I said, trying not to sound startled. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, I was just wondering if you knew how long the pool area is open. My husband and I are here for Valentine's Day and I want to get as much time in the hot tub as possible, but he's afraid we won't have time for... well, you know, other stuff, if we stay here now. So I was thinking maybe we could go back to our room now and have, other stuff, and then come back down for a bit. But if the pool is going to close soon, maybe we'll stay here now and then go back. What do you think?"

I sat there, trying not to laugh as this seemingly sweet woman asked my opinion about the chronology of her "other stuff." I looked at my friend, who was also biting her lower lip to keep from giggling. Looking up at the clock, I said to the woman, "Well, it's about eight o'clock now. And I'm pretty sure that the pool room is open until midnight. It seems you have about four hours."

"Well, what do you think? Should we go back to our room now for a while, or wait?"

Still trying not laugh I answered, "I guess it would depend on how long you would need for your other stuff. I really can't say. Maybe you should discuss it with your husband."

"Good idea, I will. At any rate, you've been very kind. I'll be back later and I hope we can chat then." Out she went, calling to her husband, "Donald, this nice lady told me the pool is open till midnight. I guess you were right. We should head back upstairs now and we can come down later..."

Her voice trailed off in the distance as my friend and I collapsed in a fit of giggles. We leaned our foreheads together and laughed until we were breathless. Finally I pulled back a little and she said, "I never did get my hug." She wrapped her arms around me in a warm and friendly embrace. It felt so good to be here, relaxing with a good friend. I sighed softly into her hair. She giggled again.

"What's funny now, Beautiful?"

"Nothing's funny. That's my horny laugh."

"Reeeeeeeally? Did Betty-Lou make you hot with all that talk about her 'other stuff?'"

"Yeah, that's it. No, I'm just horny. It might be the hot tub. It might be your swimsuit. It might be because I'm ovulating. Whatever the case, it just is what it is."

That's what I loved about her. She just was what she was. We were side by side on the bench, and we turned to face each other. I was staring at her eyes, so honest, so sweet and thinking the same thing I had thought for years. 'If I were to ever have a chance to sleep with this woman, I would have to be so careful. She is young and relatively inexperienced. I could hurt her physically or emotionally and that would be too much to bear.'

As I shook myself out of my reverie, she smiled a very naughty smile at me. "Do you remember at the network Christmas party a year ago, when we got stuck under the mistletoe?"

I glanced up at her and nodded my head.

"And I joked that you were going to have to kiss me?"

I nodded again.

"I wasn't joking. But I didn't push it. You were married. And you seemed so much older than me. Since then, I've thought, you're only 10 years older than me. That's not so much. And you're single now. I'm pretty sure that makes you fair game."

"But I did kiss you," I stammered. "I kissed you! Sure it was only a small kiss, but it was real. I went for your cheek, but somehow I caught the corner of your mouth..." My fingers went back to that spot and touched it lightly, remembering the tingle there. I also remembered my embarrassment at having missed her cheek. Did she think it was on purpose? She didn't think I was hitting on her, did she? It all came flooding back, the desire mixed with the worry.

"And when we looked up, Margie was standing there. I thought she was going to pull out her bible and pray for us right on the spot. I thought for sure she knew that I wanted you. Wanted you so bad, my panties were damp and my nipples were hard. You look so shocked. Don't you think I'm capable of lust?" Her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she leaned over and said hotly in my ear, "Don't you think I know you want me too? I appreciate that you've been kind and all, but I know you look at me. You always look away when I glance up, but I can feel your eyes on me. And I like the way it feels to know that you're sneaking a peak at me every time you think no one's looking."

I was dizzy with the realization...no, wait. Make that several realizations, that were hitting me all at once. This gorgeous young woman was telling me that she wanted me. There was a strong possibility that I could have her. And she wasn't as fragile as I had supposed. My mind spun as I continued to look into her eyes. I took a deep breath and held her gaze. It lasted quite a while as I found my bearings and let it all sink in. Finally, it seemed there was nothing to do but lean in for the kiss. "I want to kiss you," I whispered.

"Do it," she said with a smile.

I leaned forward, just a little, and she met me half way. That first kiss felt a little awkward initially. It's always hard to kiss a close friend, but the thrill was strong and I lingered there, with my mouth on hers. After a moment, I started to really kiss her, first her perfect upper lip and then her slightly pouty lower lip. Her mouth opened ever so slightly and I touched the tip of her tongue with my own. Then I pulled back and lightly licked the very center part of her top lip again. She let out a low moan that told me I had hit on something good.

I pulled back to look at her as I reached out under the water to place my hand on her waist. Her eyes met mine as I studied her intently and I moved my hand up to cup her breast under the swirling opaque water. She drew her breath in sharply as my fingers strayed over her nipple. I played there a few minutes, drawing circles, flicking, pinching, figuring out what she liked best. The look she gave me grew deeper and more intense by the second. Her body was starting to ask for release through her eyes, and I wanted to give it to her.

"I want to kiss you again," I said while continuing to maintain the eye contact. "I want to kiss you and taste your sweet mouth and drive you crazy until you..."

"Excuse me? Am I interrupting something? You seem like you two are talking, but Donald and I just came back downstairs and I thought maybe we could chat. You were so helpful before." Our visitor from earlier had returned to join us for a soak. She climbed in on my other side and settled herself so that she was facing my back. With a barely audible groan of frustration, I reluctantly let go of Raquel's breast and turned to face her.

Smiling brightly, I asked, "Have a nice time, then?"

She giggled and nodded. "Oh you know, after thirty-some years it's mostly the same-o same-o. But then sometimes Donald mixes it up and it's more like the same-o same-OH! That's always a nice surprise."

Because I had turned to talk to our visitor, my friend was now behind me and we were both facing her, once again trying not to giggle. I was coming back into myself after the intense electricity that had passed between us a moment ago. Our guest kept chatting away.

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