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She was alone, wearing a dress - a sort of bluish-gray with ruffles. "Well, the women at these conferences don't seem to have this underground network you men do, so I don't know. I'd switched to a nice golf shirt (no logo) and walking shorts; she was wearing a short sleeve denim shirt over a snug-fitting top and relatively short shorts that showed off her legs, with some dressy sandals. It was interesting, if only to get our minds off of the modern corporate world. Her cell phone rang, and she dove into her purse, tense again as the ringing continued.
I'd left the tie and jacket behind that day, because the big bosses were off-site today in an executive session, but was otherwise dressed much like I was yesterday - white dress shirt and black pants. Poor guy." We found out our schedules took us separate ways today. We were still acting like two people who just happened to keep bumping into each other. "Don't think so." "Of course, you'll be going to the strip club." "Wh-at? "By Wednesday, all the men want to go to the strip club. She looked around a bit after seeing me; she didn't really want to be seen heading off with me. But they closed at 6, so we soon headed off in search of a restaurant. "Hey, honey." From the greeting and her side of the conversation, I could tell she was talking to her husband.
I was careful not to appear to be looking down her blouse, but just feeling that little bit of body heat and smelling a bit of perspiration from her was exciting (weird, I know - but I love the natural scent of a woman).
The presenter was very engaging, but we were paired with two other guys, one of which was just half-asleep and the other of which was a tall, thin, tense-looking guy who was determined to take charge.
I told myself I was randomly strolling around, but of course I was looking for Kelly, until I remembered that she had said she wanted to get as much sleep as possible. Alcohol just lets people do stuff they already want to do. I feel better today than I did yesterday." She was smiling at me, but still seemed a little on edge. We made some of the usual friendly complaints our respective professions always made against each other, and the inevitable bean-counter versus lying salesman stereotypes made their inevitable appearances. I wound up in Austin because my ex-wife had a job with Dell; no, I wasn't like her usual Texas stereotypes. "I just feel sorry for you because you come from a state with no good stereotypes." "You're kidding. We're all Catholic, white yuppies who eat a lot of crab.
Then I started working my way back toward the hotel. *** I caught myself looking for her at the coffee pot, but managed to see her as I casually walked by the table at which she was sitting. "I said 'Would you like to check out the Cable Car Museum before dinner? I hadn't heard a word she'd been saying, and I had a feeling she knew why. Our afternoon sessions were over a bit early (probably because of the strip club effect). The Cable Car museum was a quaint, musty little place a short walk from our hotel. Unless you live in Baltimore; then you're a crackhead." Her nervousness was disappearing with the wine.
He's probably actually in manufacturing, and they're making him take this stupid seminar." Married to a cop, and a churchgoer. He'd apologized profusely, as had I, and in the course of conversation it proved Kelly was right. Kelly seemed business-like, but a free spirit in a certain reserved way. She wasn't lonely or insecure enough to do it for lack of anything better to do, or because she needed validation.
He was frustrated over having to take a entry-level cross-training course in something he'd been in his entire career. After we left the restaurant, several of us walked around the pier looking at shops. I could suddenly imagine her taking her top off, leading me to a hotel bed, and saying "I want you to fuck me," if she really got in the mood. Alcohol could help, but she struck me as the sort who would probably stick to a limit, and for that matter she'd probably pass out before she did something she didn't want to do. " "Sure." After some discussion with the waiter about which Sauvignons they had, and placing our food order, it arrived, crisp and cold. She was in accounting in Maryland; I ran a sales office in Austin.
We enjoy an active sex life and a big part of that is “role play.” Kinky, fetish, bondage, well, you know what I’m talking about. I’m Mark, 6′, 235lbs, and my role is that of the dominate, and I do enjoy dominating […] We were looking for a car the first of last summer.
She moved a newspaper as I came by: an unspoken join me. "You were right," I said, and told her about our friend. Nice to know us accounting types can understand human nature too." "What's that supposed to mean? "You marketing boys are the ones who get paid to do all the empathy stuff, right? I didn't want to seem like I was paying too much attention to her. Still, we managed to know each others schedules before the waiter could get by to pour my orange juice. That's why there's always the open night on the agenda. Every trip of this sort I'd ever taken for any company I'd ever worked for involved an unofficial trip to a strip club by mid-week. My only rule with him is to go when he's out of town so that he doesn't run into someone from church." "The zip code rule? "What are you gonna do - stay at the hotel and read a book? He missed her; she missed him too, all that kind of stuff married people said.
The company can't organize it, but every man from the president on down wants to go. In my younger days, it always seemed like great fun, and left me horny as hell, but in the past few years it just seemed about as exciting as the Marriott coffee. " "You could call it that." "Truthfully, I've seen it all. "I can't talk about that now, Jerry; I'll call you later. It almost felt childlike and innocent as we stretched our muscles, cooped up by 3 days of airline travel and sitting in meeting rooms and eating too much.
It was day two of the national conference, but I hadn't seen her before. Curly dark brown hair, light skin, green eyes, and a dark grey suit that did things for her - a buttoned jacket barely restraining her lovely breasts, with a hint of a light cream silk blouse underneath, and slacks which were expertly tailored - not tight, yet showing me the curves between her narrow waist and heart-shaped buttocks in a way that made me glad I'd gestured her ahead. I hadn't noticed a ring, but it had been a brief encounter, and hadn't started out with me wanting to know her marital status. I was looking around for a couple of guys I'd met in my morning session when I heard her: "Over here, Tex." I walked over. I'd been in a marketing meeting, and they feigned interest in that while I pretended to care about the latest developments in risk management. There's one about 100 miles from where I work, but I've only been there once on a field trip." "It really is like school sometimes, isn't it? Really, I don't even own a horse." "My husband Jerry is from Virginia. Well, even if I'd never get to see that fine ass of hers when it wasn't covered with equally fine wool fabric, she seemed like an agreeable person to spend time with. " "He's a police detective." I feigned nervousness and slid my chair an inch away from hers. "He knows I talk to strange men when I go out of town. You'd probably like him." "How does a nice accountant like you end up with a police detective? He got a FBI job, then when he got tired of moving around, he took a position with the state's white collar crime unit. I make enough for both of us anyway," she said matter-of-factly, reaching for a water pitcher.
"Mmmm, thank you," she said, taking the first sip after stirring in the slightest bit of sugar. Jet lag," she added with a smile, as if to quickly move on from the reference to bed. "Actually, it's Michael," I said, smiling, trying not to sound like I was making too big a deal of it. Talk turned to family; Kelly had a husband but no kids (yet), Debbie wasn't married, Henrietta was a grandmother, and I was divorced. We walked together to the session on lean manufacturing. " "I wasn't, but it's a little warm in here." We both took our suit jackets off and put them over our seat backs.
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As this information trickled around the table, I began to size Debbie up as a possible conference fling, but something just wasn't doing it for me. The Marriott lobby and hallways were a mixture of business people in dress clothes like ourselves and vacationers with kids roaming the place in t-shirts and shorts. I stole a look at her breasts, and they looked as fine as I thought they would - if anything, a little bigger than I imagined, but nicely proportioned to her frame, and firm-looking.