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Snowbound
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Snowbound Occasionally I have to travel for work. I find getting away to be exciting and exhilarating. Perhaps it's the change of scenery. Perhaps it's something else, such as the possibility of a little strange. My business concluded successfully late Saturday afternoon. I went back to my hotel. I preferred boutique hotels. I appreciated the ambiance that came with something that wasn't a chain. This time, though, I was in a Holiday Inn Express. It was clean, comfortable, and ascetically sterile. My flight out was scheduled out for mid-day Sunday, and while the weather babe was predicting snow overnight, I thought that a little snow wouldn't stop a flight. I went out for dinner, had some stew at an Irish place down the street. And a Smithwick's. I ogled the two women down the bar from me. They were very attractive, and completely wrapped up in their conversation. I concluded that it wasn't my night, paid the bill, and left. It had started snowing. I cleaned off the car, drove back to the hotel. There was a basketball tournament in town, and the dining area was filled with teenage boys and their parents. I thought about hanging around with them, decided it was too much testosterone for my taste. I went up to my room, fell asleep watching a movie on HBO. When I woke up, it was snowing hard. There was at least eight inches on the ground, and no end in sight. I checked my phone. There was a text from Delta. My flight was cancelled. I called them, waited on hold for what seemed like an eternity, was told that any potential flights were already booked, but they could get me on the same flight on Monday. I took it. I got up, showered, dressed, and went downstairs for some breakfast. The dining area was filled again, with the same teenagers and their parents as the night before. I filled a plastic cup with some orange juice, guzzled it, did it again. I stood in line at the coffee urn, filled a Styrofoam cup, chatted with a woman I didn't know. She was friendly, pretty and smiled easily. By the time I had fixed my coffee, she was gone. Bored, I grabbed my coat, went outside, cleaned off the car. There wasn't anything else to do, so I decided to go the store. I saw a grocery store a half mile away, figured I could get some booze, while away the time. I grabbed a bottle of Ketel One peach and orange blossom-infused vodka, some fresh raspberries, took them back to the hotel, sat on the bed, and watched an old Matthew McConaughey movie. I looked outside. The snow had intensified. I grabbed the vodka and my book, went downstairs, and sat at a table to watch the snow. I took a plastic cup, filled it with ice, threw in four raspberries and poured the vodka. I opened my book, Ron Chernow's epic biography of Alexander Hamilton, and started to read. I didn't see her enter the hotel. She walked past the dining area, stamping the snow off her Uggs. She saw me, smiled, waved, and headed for the elevator. A few minutes later she was back. She had changed into a pair of flat brown booties. She had a denim shirt on over a navy blue tank top, leggings. She approached me, smiled again. Her smile was electrifying. "You're the guy from this morning", she said. "I am", I said. "Are you stuck here too?", she said. "Yeah, my flight's been cancelled", I said. "I'm on the same flight tomorrow." "Same here", she said. "What are you drinking?" I showed her the bottle. "You're drinking that straight?", she said. "No", I said. "I'm sipping, and I'm waiting for the ice to melt. I like the edge off, but I still want to be functional. Care to join me?" "I'm Vickie", she said. I introduced myself. "Thank you", she said. "Vodka makes me, so, how do I put this delicately." "That would depend on what emotion you're trying to express", I said, smiling. I looked at her. Her hair was a dirty blonde. She wore it straight. She was petite, well put together. She wore very little makeup, yet was very attractive. I got up, grabbed a plastic cup, repeated my process for her. I handed her the drink, we clinked plastic cups. "Here's to being snowbound", she said. "Here's to making the best of a bad situation", I said. "You think I'm a bad situation?", she said. "No, you're the best of it", I said. She laughed, took a sip, gasped. "I think I need to let the ice melt a little more", she said. "That a pretty good idea", I said. "Vodka makes me horny", she said, looking directly into my eyes. "Life makes me horny", I said, looking back at her. She raised her glass again in a mock toast. We talked. Outside, the snow kept coming down. We didn't care. I made us both a couple more drinks. We talked some more. She took off her denim shirt. Her face was flushed. "I see these young women now", she said. "It's a fashion statement to go braless. I'm not sure how I feel about that." "Because?", I said. "Because I see their little titties bouncing around under their tee shirts, and their nipples are hard, and I find it highly erotic", she said. "So do I", I said. "I wish I could do that", she said. "I have a feeling you can", I said. I liked where the conversation was going. "Really?", she said. "There's only one way to find out", I said. "Take your bra off and give it to me." "You're serious", she said. "Then you'll know", I said. She reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, pulled the straps down over her shoulder and handed it to me. "Usually I make the guy do this", she said, laughing. "Stand up", I said. "Let's see what you've got." "I should make you do the same thing", she said. "You should", I said. "Stand up." She stood. Her breasts were small, firm. For a woman in the late 30s, she was in great shape. Her nipples stiffened. "You can do it any time you want", I said, visually inspecting her chest. "Thank you for that vote of confidence", she said. "Shall we take this upstairs?" "For?", I said. "I don't do casual sex", she said. "You can either make love to me or fuck me." "Can I do both?", I said. "Even better", she said. She took me to her room, pushed me against the wall, kissed me. We took our time undressing each other, exploring each other, tasting each other. She got on the bed, on her hands and knees. I got behind her. "Fuck me now", she said. I did.  |
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Sometimes you just gotta love a good snowstorm!
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Loved this one! 
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A comment, just for you.
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