Pamela’s Story (Adult content)

Pamela strolled aimlessly along the corridors of the elegant hotel touching and feeling things that caught her interest. She was tired, bored.  Perhaps she could now talk Brian into leaving. For him it was easy. He was niched with his workmates conversing about things she knew little about and cared nothing for.  It always irritated her husband that she couldn’t make herself fit.  It’s not like she didn’t try to mingle, mingling just wasn’t her thing.  Pamela  made her way back to Ballroom A.  She was asked for her ticket by a tall arrogant blue-striped suit, which she didn’t have. Her darling husband kept control of the small -as she was finding out now- valuable piece of paper. No stub, no entrance was the mantra from the suit. She looked passed him hoping by some act of fate Brian would appear. No such luck.

With her patience wearing thin, her feet aching, and her body crying to be rid of the tight black cocktail dress, she exited from the situation by moving to a seat in the lobby to wait…for what she perceived was going to be a very long time. A half-hour went by before she became aware of the man sitting across from her. Was he watching her?  No, not watching exactly but not ignoring either. She wondered if he was aware of her plight. She began to study him in quick glances. She couldn’t judge his height because of the way he was sitting, but she could tell he was a slight man, dark hair, dark eyes…mid 30s she estimated. She was always terrible at guessing ages. She looked down at her heels and wished so bad that she could remove them and curl up on the chair. She began to fidget, totally forgetting about the man sitting across from her until he spoke. “I don’t mean to presume anything, but are you in need of some company?” She looked up at him, watching his lips move and sound out the syllables. What was he inferring?  Did he think she was…a smirk surfaced. “Why, yes, and you?” He stammered, “Well, I..uh..yes, I guess I am.” She looked around the lobby, which was still a hub of organized interaction. “Do you want to buy me a drink?” she asked. That was horribly cliche, but she was in the moment, in the role. Cliche was okay. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go to the bar.” He walked over to her. She had been right. He wasn’t very tall. In her heels, she measured  5’6″ and they measured eye to eye when they stood.  He wasn’t impressive to look at either, close set unremarkable brown eyes, thin pale dry lips that had dead skin around the edges, and teeth that showed he smoked too much. She didn’t care. She was killing time, and this made her forget how much her feet were aching.

They walked side by side to the lounge area of the hotel and slid into a booth secluded by the girth of the bar.  He pressed closed to her as he slid in. Okay, that was uncomfortable, she thought.  It was only a game; wasn’t it? Didn’t he realize that? A leggy brunette with a painted on smile approached to take their order. “Two vodka martini’s.”  he stated as he removed a pack of cigarettes from his inner jacket pocket. The brunette swiveled round and returned from where she came and then made the return visit with cocktails. As they drank, there wasn’t conversation, not even the perfunctory small talk.  It was ackward. She felt light headed but not drunk, not out of control. She excused herself and headed for the ladies’ room. She had to think of a way to escape this weird situation. She went into the stall and dropped her small pink panties to just below her knees, VC in rhinestones pointed up towards her face. She peed. She pondered. She regained her upright position with clothes placed appropriately and exited the stall. He was standing there in the ladies’ room in all his short repulsiveness with currency flashing in his hands.

“Two hundred?” He asked.

She stared at him unsure of how to answer. He approached her and whispered in her ear.

“The door is locked. We are alone. No one will know what’s going on in here.”

Still at a loss for words, she just stood frozen. Why wasn’t she slapping him, telling him to go fuck himself, exiting with some dignity? He began to kiss her neck, taking her breasts in his hands squeezing them. He put his hand on the back of her head and pushed her mouth to his. He tasted of stale cigarettes and a long hard day.  He slithered his tongue into her mouth and caressed the roof of her mouth with it. He ran his hands down from her breasts, and she could feel them sliding up her bare thighs and inside her panties. The panties that she had just pulled up were slowly being edged back down.   He knelt down, shimming her dress up.  He explored her thighs with his tongue, breaching the soft tuft where they intersected . She moaned and leaned her hands behind her to steady herself on the sinks. She was excited. This little shit of a human being was turning her on in the midst of a public bathroom. He stood upright and leaned in close so she could feel his erection up next to her body and smell her own juice on his breath.

He took her left hand, the one wearing the wedding ring, and brought it around to the fly of his pants.

“Unzip me.” She obeyed.

“Take off your shoes.” Again, she did as he asked.

He spun her around keeping the back of her dress hiked up.  He pulled himself free of the confines of his pants and placed his penis against the skin of her back end. She held on to the sink.  Condom….wear a condom were her last rational thoughts.

He removed a condom from his wallet and placed it with speed and skill. He entered her. He was small. She couldn’t really feel him, not like she could her husband. But he made up for size with technique. He teased her and taunted her. He had the fingers of his right hand pressing and playing with her clitoris while he rhythmically rocked, increasing the speed and intensity. Sexual frenzy were the only words she would think of later, when it was over, when she was alone thinking, trying so hard to figure out how it happened.

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