Until recently, the evening had not been promising. I had been looking at the prospect of spending the evening with my interminably dull boss. But now, instead of having to share a room with my flatulent boss, I am now going to share a bed with Miss. Jones; a very interesting prospect indeed.
When I saw her sitting in the bar, I was surprised but pleased. The few snippets of her conversations I have overheard in the elevator or getting coffee in the morning have proved entertaining, plus she has great legs.
She had been very clearly checking me out earlier, so I dumped the boss on the intern, (that’s why we have them, right?) and made my excuses to spend the evening with a far more attractive companion. Usually she wears a suit; tonight she is wearing some sort of sweater which clings in places sweaters ought to cling, a skirt and the kind of boots which come up to her knee. I love those boots.
After a few drinks, the crossword and some conversation, Miss Jones invites me up to her room. The offer isn’t exactly made out of the blue. We have been sitting fairly close for a while, close enough to smell her perfume. It’s a little bit sweet and a little bit spicy. Under the pretext of doing the crossword, we have also been playing a little footsie, with our knees, under the table.
Whenever the leather of her boots, rubs against my pant leg, it’s hard not to imagine what it would be like to have those long legs wrapped around me. The image is a nice one. She is a good looking woman; curvy, in a round, soft sort of a way.
The offer, when it comes, leaves me feeling flattered and more than a little surprised. I’m not used to women being so blunt.
“Where are you staying?” she asks.
“At the hotel across the street.” I tell her, hoping it isn’t true. I’m hoping I’ll be staying with her.
“Do you want to stay here with me?” The question is asked so casually, I can’t help but wonder if she cares one way or the other.
I watch her for a second looking for clues. “Maybe.”
My non-committal answer annoys her. A flash of impatience is clearly visible in her eyes causing me wonder briefly if it’s smart to bait a red head. Then she leans over and kisses me. Her lips are soft and I think it was probably very wise to bait this particular red head.
She stops kissing me all too soon, but makes up for it by whispering some of her “favorite things” in my ear. They say men are visual creatures; well every one of her favorite things conjured a very pleasing visual indeed.
Leaving me to my wild imaginings, she goes to do something, I have no idea what. I’m fixated on “favorite thing” number three. I can practically feel her warm hands on my….
Miss Jones returns, “So?” she asks.
“So…. I think we can go upstairs.” I tell her, my mind still occupied by visuals of favorite things.
Taking my hand, she leads the way to the elevator. Once inside she hits buttons and I feel the elevator smoothly start its ascent. I think how cool it would be to have an AreoSmith, Love in an Elevator moment but before I can suggest it, she takes hold of my belt buckle, pulling me towards her. Her hand is inches from my dick and it is inches too far.
She kisses me softly again, her hand still on my belt buckle. The other hand touches my face which is oddly sexy. I kiss her full lower lip, taking my time. If I play my cards right, this could play out into a full two day marathon of sex. She tastes like martini and something I can’t quite figure out; maybe chocolate or honey. Excitement and anticipation run through my body.
Her tongue works its way between my lips. I open them to let her explore. When she flicks her tongue into my mouth, I grab her ass, pulling her into me. My dick finally starts to pay attention to the fact we are about to get laid. It stirs in my pants as she pushes her hips into mine. I run my hands over her backside, down her thighs. If I am not mistaken, I feel the lace of stocking tops through the fabric of her skirt. My heart beats just a little faster. Who doesn’t love a woman in stockings?
The ding of the elevator stops me getting carried away; a reminder we are in public. Getting caught with my hand up her skirt isn’t how I want to start this evening. The doors open and we spring apart. Startled, she begins to laugh. It’s a good laugh, not a titter or giggle but a laugh. An older couple is waiting to get into the elevator, Miss Jones smiles at them as she passes, I wonder at the clarity of her mind when I am clearly unable to focus on anything but getting to see those stockings.
Her hotel room is fairly standard with nothing much worth noting, except for the size of the bed. Already four of five steps ahead of myself, I can see us rolling around on that bed, tangled up in a variety of interesting ways.
She closes the door; I think it’s about time I took control. It’s very nice having a woman take the lead every now and again but right now I want to put my hands on her. I want to slide them up under her sweater…
Pleasure Me - Tina Donahue
8 years ago
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