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and all rights are held by the author.  For more information or to obtain
reprint rights or explore other uses, please email to "twylamarie at
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######

I was pretty much all alone in this city.  No coworkers, no
husband and no other acquaintance within hundreds of miles.  Even
my clients that I was there to see were all suburban dwellers who
came in via train and left at night for their bedroom community
miles away.  I had a freedom that I don't have back in Seattle
where I am well known and have many ties to the community.

I love my husband- I really do - but he is much older than me and
after close to 15 years of marriage I felt like I needed a spark.
 Nothing too risky and certainly nothing that would last more
than an evening. I decided that an evening of fun and flirtation
would be a good gift to me.

It was a Wednesday night in Chicago. Not the most active of
nights but beggars cannot be choosers. I had a dinner obligation.
Nice place. Good wine.  Fun people - a client and her husband in
from Naperville - but it was done by 8PM and the evening was my
own.

After the meal I decided to head back to my room for a few
minutes before heading to the bar.  (I needed to get rid of some
garlic breath so I popped up for a brush and a gargle.) While
there, I thought about changing clothes too, but all of my
clothes were business clothes so why bother.  I did lose the
pantyhose and traded my boring low flats (a necessity for a day
filled with walking) for a pair of more fashionable evening
heels.  (I thought about losing my underwear too just to give you
a thrill when I told you this story later, but resisted the
urge.)

You always want to know what I am wearing. This night I wore a
simple cut gray on gray pinstripe with a light blue blouse.  The
weather was chilly - in the 40's but it felt colder with the wind
coming off the lake- so I dropped off my formal jacket but wore
my long black overcoat. (Underneath I wore those same blue
panties you asked about - silk with a lighter blue lace front and
matching bra.)

The bar I decided on wasn't far from my hotel but I got twisted
around a bit and lost my way.  I was so frustrated that when I
finally found myself back in front of my hotel lobby I almost
called it a night, but the doorman was good with directions and
found myself where I was headed just after 9PM.

I have been to this bar once before many years back, at a soiree
held by a hand held electronics company.  It hasn't changed a
lick in the last 7 years - all dark wood, green felt and polished
white glass. The executive men's club decor with the feel of old
money one might expect to find in a place near the Chicago
exchange.   I'd almost swear the ancient barman serving drinks
was the same as I remembered, and struck up a conversation with
him to find that was the just the case.  He was somewhat proud to
be recognized and I swear he grew an inch or two, bragging that
he had been tending bar there for close to 20 years.  My memory
served me well as the drink he poured was deep and his attention
was prompt throughout the evening.

I had remembered a small dance floor, but sadly the place had
changed a bit after all and that part of the bar was now a
banquet room. Even if it hadn't been, my barman let me know,
Wednesday night would not have been big for dancing, which I
found disappointing.  The idea of close dancing with a stranger
was high on my list of things to do.  But I was enjoying the dry
heat of the whiskey as I sipped and found I had no desire to
search elsewhere.

This old tavern was well worn and comfortable like an old shoe.
Drinking with my new old friend behind the bar was oddly
comforting.  There was that lovely little tingle one gets when
good liquor hits the back of your head. I found my deep drink dry
and ordered another, left alone to my thoughts and letting the
drink take me to a more leisurely place than I had been for a
while.

There were people aplenty in the bar - mostly men, though a few
women sprinkled here than there.  Most in groups of three or
more. No couples and only a few single men, none so attractive
that they garnered my attention.

By 10:15 I was into my third drink and running out of both
alcohol and small talk with the bartender.  I decided the night
was a bust, decided to call it an evening and paid my tab with a
generous tip for the wonderful old gentleman who had served as my
companion.  I stood, stepped and stumbled - the liquor reminding
me that it was onboard - and I walked into the night.

I was again lost after a few minutes. I guess I am nothing else
if not a blonde.  So I popped into the lobby of a small hotel to
seek directions. They were busy checking in a van full of people
from the airport at the front desk so I wandered into the bar
that was connected to the lobby and found myself in one of those
busy hotel bars filled with men who travel for a living.

It's easy for a woman to be the center of attention in a place
like this, and I could feel all eyes on me instantly.  That's not
always a welcome feeling, but tonight it reminded me of my need
to feel like a woman again and I instantly felt a bit
revitalized.  I found a place at the bar to sit down and the
group of well-dressed businessmen who were huddled beside me
instantly included me in their conversation. I was already
introduced and inspected before the bartender took my order -
which went onto the tab of a new friend who introduced himself as
Ken.

The three gentlemen were there to visit a retail chain about
their sportswear line, and though I might have taken a moment to
tell them that my husband was also in the apparel business, I
held my tongue so as not to kill the mood.  We made small talk
and drank our drinks, the mens attention so obvious on my blouse
and its contents that I practically felt like charging admission.


I did a quick scan to count three wedding rings including my own,
the odd man out being 30-something Ken with this tan jacket and
tan shirt with the amusing necktie design of very small polar
bears walking nose to tail.

As the even progressed, Ken did most of the talking, while the
two other men mostly sat and drank.  Their names were Randy and
Larry and they were obviously junior members of the team.  Both
were younger, quieter and less confident.   The more Ken talked
the less interesting I found the man and briefly decided that
again the evening was a bust.

I was actually somewhat appreciative when he excused himself to
go the men's room. I had heard more about Ken's golf game, and
the condo association at his place in El Segundo and about Ken in
general than I had really cared to hear, and said something to
that effect once he was out of earshot.  Both of the other men
laughed knowledgeably and in appreciation for my being able say
what they hadn't dared.  Randy apologized and explained Ken had
been drinking for several hours. Larry just blushed and giggled
telling me perhaps he was in the tank as well.

We shared a few more barbs targeted at boss man Ken including a
few about the fact that his absence indicated he was either lost
or would be coming back to the bar several pounds lighter - a
crudity that had us all laughing.  Larry got a phone call and
stepped away, and Randy and I sat and discussed small nothings,
each of us saying just enough to keep the conversation going.

He told me a bit about how he got into sportswear (He majored in
"college jock with a minor in communications.")  He told me he
had a boat, which I loved as boats are one of my favorite things
in live.  I also found out that Randy and his team was staying in
the hotel attached to the bar and asked if I was as well.  He was
amused when I told them I was only there because I was lost but
that it looked like a nice place to spend the night.

It was a subtle attempt at flirtation, but he didn't get it. 
Instead he asked what the name of my hotel was as he might know
the way, but I didn't have time to answer before Ken returned
with Larry in tow. Ken was looking like a man who had spent
serious time with his comb and a mirror. He was boisterous about
the need to buy us all another drink.  The twinkle in his eye
told me that I was in his sites, and frankly I could not have
been less interested.

I made my apologies, explaining I had an early morning and had to
go.  Next I threw a twenty down on the counter - my way of
telling Ken that I felt no obligation for his drinks - and then I
took Randy by the arm and announced how pleased I was that he had
offered to walk me back to my hotel.

Four sets of eyebrows instantly raised - my own included
actually.  (Sometimes I just don't entirely know how it is that
things come out of my mouth like this.)  Before anyone could say
more and before Ken could grab his AMEX and attempt to settle the
tab, I had Randy by the arm and we were practically running for
the hotel lobby.

I didn't stop until I was in front of the desk, where the nice
clerk let me know I was so close to my destination that I was
embarrassed I had asked.  Randy and I exited the building
together.

I walked with him arm and arm for the short block to my hotel,
apologizing for the kidnapping but explaining that it looked like
he needed to escape the Ken and Larry show far more than I had.
He laughed, concurred, laughed at my use of the word "windbag"
and volunteered that I really didn't know the half of it.

We were at entrance to my hotel much too soon and he appeared
puzzled when I did not remove the arm I had hooked into his,
instead tugging him along with me into revolving door and
spitting us into the lobby.  I noted that our own sad little bar
had closed up for the night and asked him if he wanted a night
cap anyway, and by the time we were in the elevator young Randy
was visibly confused and maybe even concerned with what this
crazy older broad had planned for him.

My room is on the 34rd floor - with a good view of the river
though sadly no balcony.  A nice room if a bit stiff for my
taste.  Still it had two nice armchairs that easily turned to
face the view and a small side table to hold the small bottles of
rum and orange juice I had taken from the minibar.
Randy volunteered that he was married - an odd stumbling
statement that was offered in a tone that suggested a question
mark at the end.  I offered up a small "Me too" and asked him if
he needed to leave. He said that he should - though not that he
was going to - and in the silence that followed much was said.

I had taken off my overcoat upon entering the room but we were
both otherwise still fully dressed, which in his case included a
jacket though he had removed his tie and sat it on the table.  I
pointedly reached down and took off my shoes, and stood and took
them to the closet to put them away.

I looked back at him then, perhaps as much as 10 years younger
than myself, good looking in that natural but sculpted manner
that seems to be the way of all men from Southern California.  He
was clearly shy and unsure of what would come next.

I have done the extra marital dance before. He clearly had not -
a surprise for a good looking man but perhaps a more moral person
than I am capable of being.
I am not often the aggressor but glancing at a clock and seeing
the late time I felt like perhaps it might be best.  So after
putting my shoes down on the high shelf in the closet, I
unbuttoned the cuffs of my blouse and then, looking him in the
eye began to unbutton my blouse.

He did not say a word - didn't even change expressions - and
didn't move while I finished with my blouse and placed it on a
hanger.   Our eyes were still locked and I almost felt that he
was afraid to cast them downward.  So I started talking, telling
him all my rules.

This wasn't going to be cheating - not all the way anyway - but
would be a lot of fun if he let it be.  I wanted someone to make
me feel like a woman instead of a mom. Someone that could explore
with me and enjoy some mutual discovery that perhaps I missed in
my life.  No intercourse - just some kissing and some groping-
maybe something more but definitely not that.  High school stuff
really.  It wasn't about getting laid; it was just something to
make us feel young again.

I had dropped by bra by the time I finished my monologue. This is
more undressed than I usually have been during past adventures,
but perhaps emboldened by his bashfulness I unzipped my skirt at
the hip and let it fall to the floor.

"Now dear," I asked, "It's very late. Do you want to do this or
do you want to leave? It really is decision time."

He stood, and I sensed panic.  He picked up his tie and placed it
in his pocket, then walked toward me and the door.  He pushed
past me to that little hallway hotel rooms are known for - closet
on one side, bathroom door on the other and exit to the hall
straight ahead.  Once again I felt my evening slipping away.

Then he stopped, reached into the closet, and pulled out the
heels I had been wearing. With a smirk he whispered, "If this is
for fun, would you mind putting these back on?

And I did.

When the second strap was in place behind my left heel, I was
instantly on my back on the bed. We kissed passionately for
minutes, his hands on my breasts in a way that I haven't felt
since adventures in the backseat after a school dance.  He moved
his lips to my nipples and his hands to my ass and it was all I
could do to keep those panties from slipping to the floor - an
old fashioned good natured tug-of-war that many high school girls
remember from those early days when the difference between third
base and home still meant something.

He hadn't exactly undressed, but within about 10 minutes his
shirt, shoes and socks were off and his pants were open.    He
had discovered that while the panties weren't coming off, they
were not so tight that an extra hand wouldn't fit inside. When
the time came, he ate me first through the brief material, then
finally pushed the cotton panel to the side and found home base
with his mouth.

While he used his mouth with a passion I had not felt in a long
time, I felt his hands slide down the back of my legs, and
finally he grasped each heel in one hand and pulled my legs apart
in a way that was almost but not painful and that opened me
deeply.   He was patient, attentive and almost drowned when the
time came.

It was obviously his turn next and though I wanted him to slide
inside I instead drew him up to straddle my chest. He thought his
reward would be oral sex and I briefly did mouth him, but only to
get him good and wet so that he could slide back and forth
between my breasts, which is what I guided him to do.

He did not last long.

His cum was thick and very warm and very rewarding, and though he
fell to his side as men are bound to do in such situations he
quickly recovered and returned to a kiss and cuddle position
where we spent the next half hour or so.  (Given the way he moved
our bodies around I was glad that I was on hotel sheets and had
an extra pillow.)

It was perhaps 2:30 in the morning when I rose from the bed to
visit the bathroom, and on return I stood in the window looking
at the pre-morning view while he gathered his things and put them
on.  There was a brief attempt at the kind of awkward small talk
that always comes as such times and even the beginnings of a "can
I call you" conversation.  It quickly fell apart as it was as
false as such conversations can be after what was surely a one
night stand.

I kissed him at the door and after a brief date with a wash towel
and soap to get rid of some residue it was off to bed. This time
for sleep.  In the morning it would be back to business.  It was
an evening with no future and no expectations.

#####

It's very hard to put your life in writing like this knowing that thousands read it but you have no idea what they though after having done so. If you liked what you read, can identify with it, or simply just found a
typo, drop me a line.  All thoughts and input are appreciated. 

My email address is twyla at ymail.com.