A Working Vacation
Donald was wealthy, handsome and, if the ring on his left hand meant anything, not available. The sexy redhead seemed to consider the last point irrelevant as she took the barstool next to him and locked her big green eyes onto his baby blues when she said hello.
Donald reviewed a few descriptive words in his mind while he waited for her to make her move. Sexy? Yes, definitely. Sensual? voluptuous? erotic? seductive? Yes, yes, yes, yes. I sound like a thesaurus, but I am a writer, after all.
Donald was a successful author and was at this resort hotel for a writers’ conference. These events were good opportunities for top notch authors to pick up a nice paycheck between books and apparently sexy women as well.
“Great job in the workshop today,” said the woman, sipping a drink. “Nice topic too. Sex in Novels: How Much is Too Much?”
“Thanks, um…” he said, extending his hand. It certainly didn’t take her long to get to the point.
“Marcia Stevens,” she said, holding his hand much longer than necessary.
Did she actually just run her fingers clear up onto my wrist?
Marcia took a sip of her drink, then stuck out her bottom lip and held the empty glass up for him to see.
“Nice to meet you, Marcia. Could I….”
“I’d love one.” She set her empty glass on the bar.
“Another for her, and a rum and Coke for me,” Donald said to the bartender.
“You didn’t have to do that—but I’m glad you did.” The pouty lip disappeared.
“What do you Write, Marcia?” Trashy novels would be my guess.
“Erotica. Sexy, sultry, sensual erotica,” she scooted a little closer. “And I couldn’t have agreed with you more in the workshop when you said it’s hard to overdo sex in writing today, or, if I might add, in real life.”
Donald nodded toward a booth in the corner of the lounge. Marcia glanced over, and he slipped the wedding ring off and stashed it away in his pocket.
They flirted and laughed for an hour in the dark corner. My god, this lady is all hands, he thought as her fingers crawled nearly as far up his thigh as his doctor’s during an annual physical.
“I’ll be right back. I need to visit the ladies room.” A long lash flitted down over one of her huge, green eyes “Don’t you try to run away while I’m gone. I’ve got plans for you.”
I wonder if she writes in cliches too?
She performed a memorable walk across the lounge, but his phone interrupted the show. In the text, his daughter, Julia, asked if he and her Mom would be able to make it to her high school volleyball game on Tuesday night. He sent a quick message back to let her know they wouldn’t miss it for the world, ending with a quick “love you.”
Donald was busying himself with thoughts of the sultress returning for a second round of thigh massaging, when another text came in. His wife, Sharon, had sent him one of her sexy selfies. “Nice,” he texted back. “I can’t wait.” She asked if he was enjoying the conference, and he responded that the only way it could possibly have been better was if she had been sitting beside him right then. Sharon ended, as always, with, I love you and Donald with his characteristic, I love you more.
A couple of minutes later, Marcia slid back into the booth next to him, closer than before if that was possible. She unholstered her hands and went back to work on his thigh.
“I’ve got one of the rooms with a two person jacuzzi.” She pulled away and fluttered both lashes this time. “I was thinking I’d go up and relax with a bottle of wine, but I hate to spend the evening all alone.” Her bottom lip stuck out again and she looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.
“I like how you think,” he said. I like how you scheme is what I meant.
She leaned in, lips barely touching his at first, then pressing hard, opening her mouth, forcing her way in. She moved slightly and hot breath wafted past his ear as she spoke.
“You buy the wine. I’ll go run the water.” She slipped a card key into his shirt pocket and ran her hand up and down his chest.
The sheer green dress molded to her petite body as she moved across the room. Donald dragged his eyes away from the last place he had seen the woman and turned his attention to obtaining a bottle of wine. He had to wait until the man behind the bar was through gaping at the doorway.
“Wow.” The bartender finally let go of whatever fantasy he had been conjuring.
“Well said.” Donald reached for his wallet.
“What’s your secret?”
“Money, luck and good looks. If you don’t have any of those, try sincerity, charm and personality. They’re a lot of work, but they can be effective. Now get me your best Sauvignon Blanc, the lady is waiting, probably naked.”
The spacious suite sported an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows overlooking Times Square. At the bar, Donald poured wine into crystal goblets as he watched the open door to the bathroom. A full length mirror reflected Marcia performing a striptease so erotic it would have made a pole dancer blush.
Donald set the goblets down on the edge of the hot tub. His own attempt at a sexy striptease brought giggles from the steamy water, so he dropped the tease and simply stripped. He slid into the water, and the woman was on him. Lips touched, tongues and fingers explored, time and inhibitions took leave, passion seized control.
Donald and Marcia leaned back against the headboard of the king size bed. The goblets chimed. They sipped, enjoying the warmth of the blankets, the wine and each other.
“You are a bad, bad man.” The single, long eyelash made another appearance and took a bow.
“I’m sure my wife would agree.”
“Your wife has her own devious side.”
“I’m beginning to see that. Oh, before I forget, Julia texted while you were in the lounge restroom.”
“What did she have to say?”
“She wanted to know if we would be able to make it to her volleyball game on Tuesday night. I told her we wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“It’s a conference game isn’t it?”
“Yes, and her team is still in contention.”
“So what did you think of my Marcia Stevens character?”
“She’s a keeper for sure, and I think the bartender feels the same way.” Donald slid the wedding ring back onto his finger.
“These working vacations were a great idea.”
“Do you think you could get Marcia to teach you that thigh massaging thing?”
“Marcia and I are way ahead of you,” said Sharon as she ran her fingers up Donald’s leg.
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