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I felt her foot seductively brush up against my leg, under the white linen table set.
Our eye contact maintained. I reached below the table, and smoothed my hand over the top of her foot and up her shin, ensuring what I felt was real and not simply a figment of my over taxed imagination.
“You wanna get out of here?” She smiled with a sudden narrowing of her eyes.
“Absolutely,” I answered, simultaneously raising my arm to signal the wait staff.
What seemed like an eternity passed, interrupted abruptly by the waiter’s presence.
“May I interest either of you in dessert, perhaps coffee or cappuccino this afternoon?”
“No, thank you,” our synchronistic reply.
“Very well, I’ll return with your check.”
I’m not even sure how this all came to reality. I suppose it began around 10 years ago or so when Laura and I reconnected via Facebook. Come to think of it, I don’t even remember which of us reached out to the other. But, at this point, that detail is completely irrelevant.
We had originally been introduced at a sales convention at least 20 years ago or so. I was fresh out of college and Laura was about halfway completed with her undergrad degree. I still remember exactly what she looked like then, which isn’t much different from how she looks currently. Hot. Yeah, not to sound cliché, but ‘hot’ would be the word. She was tiny then, standing at around 5 feet, 6 inches. Thin and tiny, really. Tiny everything. A tiny waist, tiny rear end; tiny frame. These tiny characteristics only accentuated her breasts, which did not appear tiny — especially on a woman of her size. That is, if you got the rare chance to see her profile.
With long, thick amber colored hair, bright green eyes and a killer smile, she easily commanded the attention of any room. Well, at least those who were lucky enough to see her in close proximity. Laura walked with poise and confidence, a ‘walking wet dream’ as the majority of the male perspective would deem.
She usually wore tight-fitting jeans, long before such things as “skinny” jeans and Spandex yoga pants became popular. With oversized sweatshirts to self-consciously hide her endowments, her college bound wardrobe simply complimented her stunning personality and quick-witted candor. She seemed to catch everyone’s gaze, but yet, at the time, gave no sense of a negative response. Instead, she received each hungry stare with subtle acknowledgment and, at times, sincere gratitude. Laura was also the type of gal who didn’t seem to be conscious of how physically attractive she unduly was. And that alone, of course, gave her all the more allure.
With a German-American heritage, she carried herself extremely well with simple grace and style. High set cheekbones, a Roman nose, and long, thin legs mobilized her body with distinct elegance. When I first met her, it was difficult to gauge the form of her breasts, let alone that of her derriere because of the long-draping and larger sized tops she wore. But that didn’t stop my imagination from working – calculating what “might” be a hidden work of art and majesty under her modest camouflage.
Her voice: Strong and feminine with a hint of masculine husk; especially when she became emotionally charged. Her laugh: Light and jovial and, as mentioned earlier, a smile that would dazzle even the most hardened of cynical viewers.
I never saw Laura wear high heels, but then again, she probably didn’t even have the need to wear them. She was tiny and skinny; that was all that was important for her. And, to top it off, she was consistently concerned about fitness and health, so you know that she was all about maintaining a perfect size and weight.
But for whatever reason — call it fate, serendipity, or just plain luck, we hit it off. While at that conference, we captivated one another, so it seemed. Well, she captivated me, as it were. She was the one who enjoyed my humor, as bizarre and twisted as it might be at times. Laura laughed authentically at my jokes and seemed to appreciate being around me for the short time. We attended some of the small group breakouts, sat next to one another in the large group settings, and even had lunch and dinner together. I remember on one of the nights, when both of us had one too many cocktails after one of the evening sessions, that I escorted her back to her hotel room. I thought for sure that I’d get lucky then, but it was not meant to be. As soon as the elevator reached the 12th floor, she stammered out as soon as the doors parted. I staggered to her room’s door with her and she kissed me on the cheek and slurred, “Thanks, fur watchin’ out fur me.” As soon as her electronic key card had opened her door, she was inside and it closed quickly behind her. I heard her call through the door, “Goodnight!”
Unfortunately, that was the last time I saw her. She left before the closing session the very next day and I figured I would never see Laura again. I had my memory of her, and at that point, there was nothing bahis firmaları I could do. At least I had my memories of her. And those positive thoughts are what I kept tucked away. It seemed that her quality characteristics maintained, and remained true to the present. It was as if only a few months had passed. The years had not taken too much of a toll on her figure, that was for certain. Yeah, she bore two children, but aside from some laugh lines added to either side of her eyes and some minimal added healthy weight, perhaps the slightest widening of her hips, everything else was pretty much the same.
Thank you, God.
Anyways, I know she went off to school and received an advanced degree and settled down with her high school sweetheart. I heard through the proverbial grapevine that she landed some kind of high role, over-paying career and managed a family. They lived in a rather affluent end of town, far away in both distance and class from where I ended in all honesty.
But, she’s done well for herself, as predicted. She was always a go-getter with that “take no prisoners” mindset. Driven. Successful. Power hungry. Yeah, driven –and winning, apparently. Good for her. Good for her, absolutely. Her husband, Adam, if I recall his name correctly, wasn’t doing too poorly either. A nice guy, really, also with a driven mentality. And a tinkerer of sorts, he was as well. He liked to take things apart and reverse engineers them to learn how something worked. And no slouch in intelligence either: A self-taught mechanic with training aspired to be a BMW certified technician. And after he got bored with that, went on to study statistics to be an actuary for some well known, over-inflated insurance company.
Put those two brainiacs together and, voila, a recipe for income, stability and, for all intents and purposes: Success.
Now, it goes without saying that I’ve endured my own set of challenges and success as well. I never stayed with one company, let alone position for long. It seems that I was constantly looking for the next opportunity. When they came along, I didn’t wait too long before making a move. In short measured time, I was soon doubling; even tripling my annual salary, simply by hopping off one ship and jumping on board another. Now, we’re not talking mountains of money by any stretch of the imagination here, and we’re certainly not talking the amount of money that Laura or her husband were probably taking in, but it was quite handsome. Handsome enough to make myself appear attractive enough to settle down, get married, afford a house; even have a child of our own.
And, you know, the majority of Western Society speaks of this recognizable 7-year itch phenomenon. I’ll have you know that I never experienced that. Instead, what I did experience was more of a 10-year itch, if I think about it and do the math.
The pathetic thing is that I couldn’t even tell you what the catalyst for such an itch consists of personally. Age, lack of interest, decreased exercise, weight gain, and energy loss and degrading Testosterone levels — probably all — have a stake in the cause. But there’s not just one thing. And, no, I have not experienced this “Mid-Life Crisis” thing either. I would have no idea what that is. I have absolutely no desire to go out and buy a sports car, or any other material “must have” before I reach the age of 50. So, forget about all of those theories. For whatever reason, that particular ailment does not seem to apply to me. But who knows, perhaps the concept of an affair is just that. But I’m no psychologist and quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about the reasoning or the motivation. All I know is that something’s amiss and there’s no time like the present. And hey, with a woman like Laura, can you really blame me? I sure as hell wouldn’t blame anyone, if they were in my shoes.
About two weeks ago, I received a cryptic note from her on Facebook, which read something to effect:
“Hey, stranger. I hope you are well. It’s been a while, perhaps too long, but it sure would be nice to see you again. Message me back if you’re interested in meeting me for lunch or a drink. My schedule is quite flexible.”
That’s all it took, really. Women, especially the sexy ones, always win. They’re always in control and worst of all, they know it. And exploit it, shamelessly.
Of course, I messaged her back and expressed my interest. And, like clockwork, here we were: Enjoying drinks together at a well-known Italian restaurant in the suburbs. Drinking away our inhibitions, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
“Can I just tell you that you look absolutely amazing?”?
“Oh, thanks,” she smiled, looking down at the table, “It hasn’t been easy.”
“I’m sure the hours are grueling.”
“To say the least,” Laura agreed.
“Well, you do look fantastic.”
“You’re sweet. That’s very nice to hear.”
“What are you doing these days, Laura?”
“I’m an attorney. I work for a large firm in the city. We handle mostly kaçak iddaa employer and work-related labor cases. Pretty mundane stuff.”
“Wow. You? A lawyer? I mean, I’m not surprised, but that’s kind of a big deal.”
“Yeah, which is what makes it exhausting. I can’t tell you how ridiculous the hours are. My cell phone is constantly going off at all hours. It’s near impossible keeping up with the demand. I thought that after being offered partner that things would get easier. At least I would command my own hours, but it hasn’t really been all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“Well, the hours are just ridiculous. My paralegal has been helpful, but she’s only part time. When cases go to trial, which they usually do, the hours in session are just incredibly drawn out and everything is really according to the court’s schedule. The attorneys have little say in that.”
“Ah, so you’re another rat in the cage, huh?”
“More times than not,” Laura smiled, “And I’m eager to break out.”
“Well, I’ll drink to that,” sipping on my second Manhattan.
Laura looked great. Well, she looked better than great. She still had her striking looks, thinness, and healthy hair, nice legs and more. This afternoon, she was sporting a black pencil skirt, tight fitting collared white blouse, tan hosiery, and a pair of heels. It was hard to keep my eyes off her breasts. Even after 20 years or so, I was still trying to figure out if they were enhanced, real, if her bra was simply stuffed, or if it was of those push up varieties. I had every intention of discovering the truth. But, in all honesty, that was of little matter anyway. I wasn’t a breast man so-to-speak, more accurately: An ass man. And by those accounts, Laura had a nice can in college and she had what appeared to be a better rear end now. Pushing two kids into the world allowed her hips to widen and become even more curvaceous than I recalled. And we’re not talking a “bubble butt” or anything like that. A few conservative inches are all, enough to enhance the perfection that was already there. And hell, she just barely had enough tight inches to grab a hold and hang on for the ride.
Laura seductively licked the edge of her glass, never breaking eye contact with me. Her piercing green eyes smoked, “Fuck me.”
I swallowed my drink quickly, hiding the anxious lump at the base of my throat.
“You wanna get out of here?” she whispered, her eyes narrowing.
The waiter returned with the check and I handed him a credit card without reviewing the check. He took it without hesitation and muttered a soft “thank you,” while opening the jacket of the check and slipping the card in one of the pockets. “I’ll be right back.”
“Do we need to make any plans?” I offered to Laura.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean where are we going? Your place?”
She laughed sincerely at the thought, “No, way. My place is a wreck. We’ll get a room. I have a nice place in mind.”
“What about your husband?”
“I’m divorced, silly. I thought you knew.”
“Well, I know now.”
“Hey, now let me ask you some questions.”
“Sure, of course,” I replied confidently, leaning forward.
The check was returned quietly while we were engaged. I almost didn’t notice it until Laura looked down at it, back up and me and then politely down at it again.
I opened the jacket and signed the invoice hurriedly.
“You wanted to know something?” I raised my eyebrow at her.
“Yep. What about your wife?”
“Well, what she doesn’t know…”
“I’ll have to swing by a drug store on the way.”
“Sure. Everything all right?”
“Yeah, I’m just… well, you know… not prepared.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m on the pill.”
“Well, do I need to worry about anything else?”
“Oh, like who I’ve been with, you mean?”
“Yeah,” feeling the blood rush to my face a bit.
“You don’t have to worry about that either,” she smiled, “Do I need to worry about you?”
“Not at all.”
“Good, now let’s get out of here.”
I followed her out of the restaurant and fought the urge to grab her from behind as she walked. Her ass was begging to be groped. Laura glanced back as she walked forward, and was instantly aware of my interest. She smiled coyly and continued through the doorway.
“I’ll be in the black BMW. What do you drive?” she asked.
“A Lincoln MKX. Silver.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the entrance and wait for you there.”
Each of us went to our respective cars without another word. The silence from me was an interesting experience to note. I hardly ever am at the loss of words. But the reality of what was happening here was a bit surreal. I didn’t want to over-think anything. Briefly, I was a bit in shock knowing that the two of us were on our way to get busy. I don’t know what I was more stunned about: The fact that we hadn’t seen kaçak bahis each other in 20 or so years, or that my fantasy with Laura was about to be written in reality. Yeah. Both. I heard myself chuckle out loud when I approached my car.
Just as she suggested, her black BMW awaited my arrival at the restaurant’s entryway. As I pulled near, I flashed my headlights and she responded by pulling out and slowly turned right out of the lot onto the main drag. I followed her closely as we turned down a couple of more streets before turning into the lot of a Courtyard Inn. The hotel’s location I was familiar, but had not previously been.
I parked next to her as she maneuvered into a parking spot, adjacent to the lobby. I got out of the car and awaited her exit from her car. She walked past me and then briefly stopped and turned towards me.
“You want to do this, right?” She asked with trepidation.
“Are you kidding? Of course, yes.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“Do you mind picking this one up? I really don’t want to have to explain this place on the credit card.”
Laura laughed, “Yeah, no problem. I get it.”
As we walked into the lobby together, I informed Laura that I’d be hanging in the lounge until she secured the room. She nodded and I walked towards the seating area while she approached the front desk.
I had a few moments to relax and catch my breath a bit while Laura checked us in. What seemed like seconds, however, she was approaching me with an electronic key card and a devilish smile.
I got to my feet and took her hand in mine as we walked down the hall to the elevator. She pressed the ‘Up’ button and we waited a few seconds for the doors to open. I felt the anticipation and flurry of anxiety return to my center once more.
“What’d you get?”
“Top floor, corner room. We can be as loud as we want,” she remarked.
The doors to the elevator opened to an empty car. We stepped into the elevator together, almost in unison. Laura pressed the floor’s button. Instinctively, I reached over in front of her and pressed the ‘Close Door’ button as feverishly as I could. It was probably the hardest I’ve pushed any button in my life.
The doors took what felt an eternity to close. As soon as the doors met and the car began to slowly ascend, I wrapped my arm around Laura’s tiny waist and pulled her close to me. Taking one long gaze into her lustful eyes, I leaned in and kissed her passionately on her opening lips. She pushed back at me, grabbing the back of my neck with one of her free hands and pulled me towards her. Instantaneously, the hand that had pulled her close now lowered down and cupped the inner seam of her ass. I felt her take a startled but welcomed breath of surprise. Laura made a small audible but muffled “Oomph” sound as she relaxed and allowed me to slide my hand up and down the side of one of her buttocks. She was built tight to say the very least.
As soon as the doors closed, the hotel elevator chimed and slowed as the doors reopened on the top floor. I was disappointed that the ride was over, but the future of our intimacy seamlessly overruled that feeling. We were mere steps away from our room at the end of the hall.
I could hardly allow Laura to open the door it seemed as my hands crawled all over her form fitted body. She giggled as the card reader illuminated a green dot and the door’s lock clicked to open. Just like the elevator door, our room’s door could not seem to close fast enough.
While we embraced and kissed further, she kicked her heels off and I managed to un-tuck her blouse while she performed the similar action on my shirt. Laura pulled me to the edge of the bed as our tongues danced inside each other’s mouths.
She turned around and faced the bed, her shins against the side of the foot of the bed. I pushed myself up against her while sliding both of my hands upwards from the sides of her hips, along the sides of her torso, until they wrapped around and cupped both of her breasts. I rolled over them sensually. Laura’s head bowed forward, spilling her thick, straight, tri-colored hair, allowing it to drape over her head to one side. This feminine motion exposed her neck, which I immediately attacked with my mouth and tongue. Laura let out a soft grunt as I licked the nape of her neck from behind.
Following a few moments, I pulled back from her as she bent over, keeping her feet firmly planted on the floor, her ass checks pushed out against the tight fabric of her skirt. You could see just about every curve. Of course, I was in hurry to see more. I stood behind her as I fumbled to unhook the clasp of her skirt. The hook came unlocked easily and the seam’s zipper readily appeared. I eased it down while Laura looked behind her, striking eye contact with me. She smiled with an absolutely smoking hot and steamy grin. I tugged at the top of her skirt and pulled it over the bulbs of her ass cheeks. The tension in the room was immeasurable as the fabric slid down slowly over and down her form.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed as I knelt in homage behind her.
The skirt continued to fall down on its own weight. Softly, it fell to the floor after gliding smoothly down Laura’s toned legs.
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