The Meeting
written by:
elguapo

It doesn't happen the way they try and tell you it does, at least not for me. There was no underlying problem, no discontentment, no linger doubts. My eye hadn't been wandering, my heart slowly drifting. No lunchroom flirtations, happy hour gazes, none of that.

The morning before, as I kissed my wife goodbye - my perfect, beautiful, devoted wife - cheating on her, on my family, was the furthest thing from my mind.

Truthfully, I'd barely even noticed Teri to that point. I'd only been working in the office for a few months, and hadn't had much chance to get to know one another. She seemed nice enough. Typical. Sweet and smiling and welcoming and whatever, but nothing particularly noteworthy.

Attractive? Sure. In that mid-30's average mother of four kind of way. I can't say what she looked like a decade earlier when she started having those kids, but she'd probably kept something close her figure, and for her age, you couldn't ask a girl to look much better. But again, nothing particularly noteworthy.

Not like my wife. She's incredible. Straight off the charts. Tall and blonde and curvy in just the right way. You'd notice her right away. Teri? Seems like there are dozens of her walking out of every office building in America every afternoon.

Okay, that's not exactly fair. I DID sort of notice her right away. My first day. It was early-summer, and she was wearing this ridiculously girlish little dress. The kind where the skirt kind of flys out at the bottom, in a perpetual twirl or something. She called it her peasant dress. She was cute, but that was it. Cataloged the way men tend to quickly assess and group the women in their office for no real purpose.

So I guessed I noticed when she looked nice, days when she was dressed just the right way, but she'd fade from my attention before she was even all the way out the door. Nothing really noteworthy. Nothing to really think about. Nothing to protect against.

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It was still dark, that heavy too-early kind of dark that pushes against the fluorescent hell of pre-dawn airport terminal, when she finally showed up for our flight. By "our" I'm talking about a lot of us. Twenty or more, all off to the same pointless meeting, ready to be bored to tears and steal away a little extra sleep and relaxation - a midweek working vacation from the monotony of domestic life. She had the same harried mom look on her face as half the group joining us - either up late the night before with a last-second chance to pack, or scurrying about busily even earlier in the morning trying to prepare their families for their destabilizing absence, but sure they'd forgotten all the most important stuff.

She looked nice. Skinny jeans and a navy blue blouse cut just low enough to give off the slightest hint of womanhood. That nice way a married woman her age can look. Unattempted confidence and comfort in her own skin.

Me? My slacks were getting creased as I slumped in one of those awful airport chairs that have filled the universe, the power cord for a coworker's phone snaking between my legs and gobbling up a last-second pre-flight charge.

So I noticed her, for a second. "Teri looks nice today," I thought, and that was it. Twenty minutes later I was sound asleep, hurtling through the sky to some damn place that's the same as any other damn place when all you're going to see is the airport and some damn resort with a golf course you won't play that's exactly like every other damn place. It might've been Scottsdale or Reno or Cincinnati or Jacksonville. Who cares. The kind of trip you only count as having been somewhere if you were trying to plump up your travel history.

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By the time we landed, early morning light was confusing my body clock, now ticking towards its own midday slump. I glanced at my phone, saw it was barely after 9am, and cursed at the crushing length of how much day was left to come. Starting to do the exhausted math, I figured it was at least 11 more hours before I could take advantage of the lack of kids and a wife with a daily to-do list and get some early sleep. A hotel bed, a remote, and a ballgame sounded about perfect.

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The day dragged on the way days in a hotel conference room will. Spotty wifi as the only connection to a world where time marches on in meaningful cadence. The CEO wasn't here, but a close enough proxy locked on from the front table with each speaker so that every two-bit nobody who took the short stage made sure they made some completely forgettable impression nobody else could possibly care about. Tedious. So tedious.

The first day's scheduled ended in a cocktail hour, which was covered by the company, so that's not all bad. Everyone took advantage, in that desperate pound-em-back-but-not-too-obviously way people will when someone else is picking up the tab, but only for two hours.

No doubt, that early bedtime didn't sound quite as appealing as it had a few hours earlier, and when Stacie, another coworker and very close friend of Teri, suggested we continue the frivolities at the hotel bar, well you don't want to be the only stick in the mud.

There was less than nothing really memorable about that night. The three of us shared a table while higher-ups in khakis and blue blazers wobbled about the lobby, and we shuffled off our separate ways by 11. But in retrospect, with the 20/20 hindsight of what was before me, I can't help but notice two things. One, Teri still looked nice. Two, she'd gotten a little tipsier than the rest of us a little faster than the rest of us. And three, she was a little more fun than I'd imagined. I'd never really given her any thought before, but a few domestics brought out just a glimpse of a girl who was probably pretty likely to have been standing on a table acting as the bar's master of ceremonies at the right college party, lo so many years ago.

It's funny how you assign someone a role. She's a low-level coworker, somebody's mom, and somebody else's wife. Not a girl someone met and loved and found exciting the way I find my wife exciting. My wife, who someone else probably sees exactly as I'd seen Teri. She was more than those roles I'd assigned her, just like my wife is. Huh. Who'd have guessed it?

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The next day was worse than the first. A fucking dirge of presentations and videos and panels and the usual suspect asking the usual dipshit look-at-me questions during pointless Q&A sessions.

I didn't see her all day. Not once. Or at least I don't remember it. But I did see Stacie, and she declared without debate that we were reconvening at the same time and place that night - our last night in town.

Day faded slowly to evening, and sure enough, 24 hours later the three of us were back sitting at our table, the same higher-ups wobbling around us in their khakis and blue blazers. It wasn't all the same though. The cautious "we have to sit through a whole day tomorrow" pragmatism of the had given way to the reckless abandon of "it's only three hours and a plane ride tomorrow," which is just my way of saying people were getting all fucked up in that way adults who are trying to milk a little extra fun out of some time on the road with people you might not even like that much will grab with both hands.

Not the least of which was Teri. She was having herself quite a time, the beer bottles piling up on the table as she slugged one after another back. An impressive number, really. And that girl I'd imagined, the partying on top of the bar girl who'd probably been gone for fifteen years? She was bubbling, just under the surface. Shit, the girl was a blast, or at least as much of a blast as a 35 year old mother of four is likely to be.

I'd taken the opportunity to chat up a few coworkers I wanted to know better, and my solid buzz was threatening to turn into a drippy haze, which seemed about perfect, when I first noticed Teri standing next to me. I don't know how long she'd been there, but suddenly she was in my conversation with another coworker, who had become a good enough friend of mine. He was hammered. Slurred speech try-not-to-make-it-home-okay kind of hammered.

He said something. Fuck him for saying it. I honestly, truly think none of this would've happened if he hadn't.

He was rambling on about who-knows-the-fuck-what when he stopped, mid-sentence, and slobbered out "You two would make a cute couple" then continued saying nothing much at all. I'd stopped listening in any case. I mean, shit, he wasn't wrong. I'd never noticed.

Teri is about four inches shorter than me, with long, dark brown hair. It had a nice little curl to it, the kind married women tease out when they want men of a similar age to notice them. She was wearing this cute teal green knit sweater - the kind that couldn't possibly keep anyone warm, and just hinted and the purple tank she was wearing beneath. Her legs - and I'm definitely a legs man - were shapely in a way that had to require some actual effort, hidden beneath expensively stressed and torn skinny jeans. Again, the kind women her age wear to be noticed.

Long story short, she was the perfect height, the perfect complexion, the perfect hair color, that we probably would've looked about right together. Not to mention, behind the office appropriate demeanor I'd known, she had the bubbly kind of just-hinting-at-wild personality I absolutely crave.

You know how once you see or hear certain things, just you just can't un-hear or un-see them? This was one of those things.

I was still sober enough to know the right way to handle this, which I definitely did not do. I should've gone to bed, cranked one off, and I could've lived with myself. Instead, I made a minimal effort. I returned to the table, struck up a half-assed conversation, and tried not to hope she'd come sit with us. Which, soon enough, she did.

Honestly, I don't think she was up to anything. I really don't. And this wasn't the problem anyway. Soon enough, the lobby bar closed, and they kicked us all out to the larger bar at the far end of the complex. It was practically empty, being midweek and all, and our hardy group of souls didn't take too long to thin out itself, as the older folks peeled off one-by-one.

Before I knew it, there were only three or four of us, and there was Teri, half leaning against the bar, sort of bumping into my shoulder, standing next to me again.

"I have been this fucked up in..." she trailed off, taking another too-long swig of her beer.

"It's been a fun night" I replied, smiling a boozy, over-served smile.

"You know, kids, whatever, it's been a while. Like a long while."

"Well, you need, what's his name, your husband to take you out once in a while. Send the kids off to grandmas or something."

"Yeah, well..." she trailed off, kind of gazing off in a life-is-full-of-compromises kind of way.

An awkward pause followed, before I finally found something to say. "Well, at least you've got tonight."

That snapped her back to party mode, in a very obvious kind of way. "YES we do!" she exclaimed.

"Last call!" an asshole voice called out from across the room.

"Well, that's shitty timing" I teased her, giving her a little shove with my shoulder.

"Fuck" she mumbled. "Well fuck that. There's a mini-bar in the rooms. Nightcap?"

There was a wickedness, a devil-may-care look in her eyes. I never stood a chance.

What's rule number one? Don't go back to another man's wife's hotel room. Ever. No exceptions. And don't take another man's wife back to yours. Ever. No exceptions.

So of course, that's exactly what I did. We stumbled across the complex, up an elevator, down a long hall, babbling nervously about nothing, until I was fumbling with the key card thing to my room. In we went; she moving straight for the mini-bar. Handing me a beer, and with nowhere else really to sit, she settled in on the end of the king sized bed.

I mean, I didn't really have any other choice other than to join her, right? Other than the two chairs, or any fucking place else?

I knew we were sitting too close. Bad intentions close. I don't know how long it took. A minute? An hour? Not long, until we were practically face to face, her hot breath on my lips

Remember that electricity? The second before you feel new lips for the first time? That second before you find out what they're like? It's been ages since I felt that.

They were so soft, warm, inviting. First kisses can be so awkward, especially when everyone involved is trashed out of their minds, but this wasn't. Her lips fit, in a way they don't always. It was sensual, and then needy, and then passionate. I actually thought for a second that maybe we'd just make out for a moment, come to our senses, and pretend this didn't happen, until I felt her hand on my leg. It was over.

Her skin was so different, but that's what made it so hot. My hand slid up under her sweater, taking the tank with it, exposing her worn but flat stomach, so smooth under my fingers. She laid back as if on command, letting me settle over her, my hand searching for the first pair of new breasts they'd known in more than a decade. They were much smaller than my wife's, and that made it better, her bra lifting easily over them. She let out this come-and-get-me moan, a new moan, which again, made it so fucking hot.

I felt two hands on my chest, pushing me off and over, onto my back, lifting her sweater and shirt over her head, leaving only a cute but conservative lacy green bra, her dark nipples just barely visible beneath. Leaning up to kiss her, I unfastened it with shocking expertise, it cascading down her arms. She went straight for my belt, unfastening it. Her hands dove right in, pulling my cock free and, with a hungry moan, straight for her mouth.

She wasn't better than my wife, just different. A whole new technique. It was great. After a while, I pulled her by the hair off of me and pushed her back onto her back. She was unzipping her jeans before I could get to them, sliding them down her legs and exposing a matching set of red panties, already clearly moist. I licked her right through them, undressing myself as I did. That moan, that hungry, different, carnal moan. Dammit it was so sexy. Sliding the panties to the side, her pink pussy greeted me, the first new one I'd seen in so long. It smelled of sex, of desire. My tongue went to her clit right away, her hips rising and falling as I did.

Sliding one finger in, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when one clearly wasn't going to do, so then another, and a third, until I was pulling her open and ticking her g-spot. She moaned louder and louder as I became determined to bring her to orgasm in a way I was sure she hadn't felt in years. Her fingers found the back of my head and clawed at me, pinning my face to her as a flood of sex juice poured from deep within.

When the moans slowed, she let me go, pushing me away. I rolled onto my back as she straddled me. With a nasty, naughty, fuck you smile, she reached between her legs and grasped my rock-hard cock, pointing it directly at her, but stopping when the tip had just brushed the outside of her lips.

"I haven't had a new cock in fifteen years." It wasn't a warning or a complaint or a moment of reflection. It was almost a relief. Slowly, she lowered herself onto me. It wasn't wet, it was a flood. I'd never fit in anyone so easily, so perfectly.

That moan again. "Fuck" she muttered, "I forgot how good a new cock feels." She started to rise and fall on me in the way only a woman of this age can - that perfect mix of confidence, experience, and lingering youth. Before long she was pumping up and down, rising and practically collapsing her whole weight onto me, sliding up and down my full length with complete abandon. Her tiny tits bounced with each trip, her hair flying as she moaned louder and louder, her head rocking back and forth in total ecstasy.

She started to play with herself, one hand on her clit, the other twisting her right nipple until I thought it would come completely off.

"OH fuck" she muttered, "oh fuck I'm going to fucking come." I can't remember the last time I'd seen a woman completely let go like this, but it was incredible.

Then she did something I've literally never seen in person before. She let forth a shockwave of juice that soaked both of us and the rented bed beneath us.

When she finally came to rest, she leaned forward and gave me a long, sexy, thankful kiss. Whispering while looking me straight in the eyes, she said "I haven't squirted like that since college. I didn't think I could anymore. Holy fuck. I need more!"

I pushed her up and off of me, grabbing her by the legs and pulling her to the edge of the bed, so she was bent over it. Taking a position behind, I aimed for her sloppy lips and dove deep, her back arching as I entered her. Grabbing her hips, I slowly started to enter and exit, quickly picking up speed until I was doing nothing short of hammering her from behind. She buried her face in the bed, a continuous, orgasmic moan barely muffled before me.

"Fuck that's good" she screamed, finally lifting her head. "Give it to me. Pound that fucking pussy."

Dammit she looked so hot. So transformed from anything I'd ever seen from her, from anything I could've imagined. She kept thrashing around, taking everything I could give her.

"You like the way I fuck you, baby?" I asked, digging my fingers into her sides.

"Oh fuck yes. I had no idea how badly I wanted your cock!"

I have never, ever, lasted as long as I did, just pleasuring the shit out of her from behind. She came and came again, until finally I couldn't take it anymore, my legs soaked in her love. With a loud, deep, almost angry sounding grunt, I grabbed myself and pulled out, squirting the biggest, milkiest load I could ever remember all over her back.

When I'd finally exhausted myself, I fell to the bed beside her. I don't actually remember when she got up, but before long I heard the sound of the shower running. I sort of staggered up, stumbling into the steamy bathroom. I knew she was in there literally trying to wash me off of her, but I didn't care. It had been so hot, so fucking sexy. When she'd finished and the sound of the water stopped, she exited to find me leaning against the sink, proud as a fucking peacock.

"That was unreal" she smiled, clearly as pleased as I.

"Fuck yeah it was. You're incredible." I smiled.

"I need to find a way to repay you." she smiled back, still that wicked look in her eye.

"I think you already did!"

"Oh no" she replied, walking towards me, dropping to her knees, and drawing my spent member into her mouth.

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I haven't cum twice in a night since college. I didn't think I could, and we've tried. She finally disappeared to her own room just before dawn, and I didn't see her until the airport. Of course, her seat ended up right next to mine on the plane. By then, the hammering hangover had given way enough to make me realize two things. I'd put my entire life in jeopardy, and could I possibly be lucky enough that she'd want to forget it all as badly as I needed to?

She settled in to the seat next to mine, making the usual small talk and acting like there was nothing in the world to discuss. Perfect, I guess. Before long, she drifted off to sleep, and I sat back, starting to think that maybe I'd dodged a bullet. Maybe two people had gotten all they needed, and that would be that.

She tuned in the chair next to me, asleep, in that adorable way women will. Her eyes fluttered open, briefly looking at me, then drifting back closed as a hand came to rest on my leg.

Shit.