Dan sat at a broad, round table a few steps from the lobby bar, a vodka-and-soda set before him. Perspiration beaded the sides of the tumbler and soaked the napkin beneath it. The ice was almost melted, yet the glass was full.
Next to it was Dan’s iPhone, earbuds tucked into his ears. “I understand that, John. That was exactly the point I raised yesterday morning before you told me to hop on a plane and come out here. The infrastructure simply won’t work as it’s currently configured. Right now, I should be in Chicago, waiting for that to happen. Next week is when I should be out here doing what you sent me out here to do today and tomorrow.”
Dan paused as John, his immediate supervisor, responded. He had been talking for ten minutes, relaying the day’s events to John. Dan’s eyes fell to his drink. He picked it up and took a sip, almost sighing as the icy liquid slid down his throat, and cast his eyes around the Fairmont’s lounge as he listened to John speak.
A few after-work drinkers, probably hotel patrons, stood at the corner of the bar. A couple – tourists, by the look of them – sat four or five tables over. An attractive woman in business attire at a table to his right, a wine glass in one hand, was reading a thick document. Two guys in suits who appeared in deep conversation were off to his left. He could hear two thirty-something women gabbing behind him. He put his drink, now almost half gone, back on the table, and signaled the waitress for another.
“I hear you, John. Margie told me they’d have it worked out by noon tomorrow, so I’m going to hole up here, try to get some work done, and I’ll call her then and see if she was right. If they do, I can get started. If not, and it looks like it’ll take a few days, I’m outta here. I have too much going on in Chicago to fuck around here for a week.” Dan downed the rest of his drink as John again responded.
“All right, Johnny. I know I’m new at this, but I understand it and I know what I’m doing. I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and my dinner’s on you tonight…I was thinking Kaiyo.” Dan disconnected the call and pulled the buds from his ears as the waiter dropped off another vodka-and-soda.
“You could be in worse places than San Francisco in May, you know.”
Dan looked up to see the woman a table over smiling at him over the rim of a wineglass. He remained silent for a moment and then allowed himself to smile back. “I know. I’ve been to Minneapolis in January.”
Swallowing, the woman chuckled and brushed long, straight blonde hair from her face. “Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear you say you’d rather be in Chicago.”
“Not at all. That’s what I get for talking in public.”
“It just caught my ear because I’m from Chicago.”
“Really? So am I. I kinda got stuck out here for a few days.” Dan paused and nodded at the phone sitting silently on the table. “In case you couldn’t figure that one out.”
The woman’s soft pink lips parted and she emitted a soft laugh. Her baby-blue eyes sparkled when she did that.
“So, you’re from Chicago, too. What brings you to San Francisco?” Dan inquired, as they each took pulls from their drinks.
“Work. I’m a lawyer, and I have a big client here in San Francisco, so I get out here every month or so for a few days.”
The conversation lulled for a moment. Dan rose. “Forgive me,” he said, taking a step toward the woman’s table and extending his hand. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Dan.”
“Barbara,” she said, taking Dan’s hand in hers. It was soft and warm. As he pulled his hand back, the tips of her nails dragged along his palm. As Dan retreated to his table, she offered, “Join me for a drink, if you’d like.”
He hesitated a moment. “Sure, but just one. I have to get some work done tonight. I must have fifty unread e-mails on this thing,” he said, picking the phone up from his table and slipping into a chair across from her.
Barbara tapped the screen of her phone with a slender finger. “There’s no escaping these things. They’re great when you want to communicate, but awful when you want to get away.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
As Dan finished his drink and ordered them another round, he and Barbara made small talk. Every once in a while, Barbara brushed her lustrous hair from her face. Dan didn’t fail to notice her engagement and wedding rings.
After about thirty minutes, he looked at his watch and then back at her. “Well, Barbara, I better get up to my room. I need to do a few hours of work and then maybe get some dinner later.” He rose, and Barbara offered her hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dan,” she said, a broad smile on those soft lips as Dan took her hand.
“It was all mine. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Perhaps you will.”
Dan left her and went to the bar to close his tab, making sure the bartender put Barbara’s drinks on it. With a slight wave to her, he left the lounge and took the elevator up to his room. He pulled the tie from around his neck, climbed out of his suit, and put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a comfortable oxford. Connecting his laptop to the room’s wifi, he logged onto his company’s network and buried himself in work for a few hours.
Around 10:00, Dan yawned and stretched. His stomach rumbled, and he pulled the hotel guide from a table, thinking of ordering room service. Before he even found the menu page, however, he shut the guide and tossed it back on the table. When you travel enough, room service – no matter the hotel – becomes very unappetizing.
Dan left the hotel room and took the elevator down to the lobby, intent on hitting the street to find a place for dinner. Passing by the lobby lounge, he saw Barbara still sitting and reading. He took a quick detour and stopped by her table.
“Still here, huh?” he said, approaching her table.
Barbara looked up, startled at his voice. Then that wonderful smile crossed her lips, and she slipped the reading glasses from her face. “Actually, I’m back. I grabbed a bite to eat just down Mason Street.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Dan responded. “I was hoping you might join me for dinner.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. I would have loved that.” Barbara paused, then continued. “Probably better anyway, Dan.”
“And why is that?”
Barbara looked around, then back at him. “Well,” she began in a stage whisper, “I’m old enough to be your mother, for one thing. And I have a husband sitting at home, for another.” Barbara sat back, placing one of the stems of her glasses between her teeth, lightly biting it, her soft pink lips closing around it.
Dan laughed. “Well, in that case, maybe I should leave you,” he played along.
“Oh, please don’t,” Barbara pleaded playfully, leaning forward. “I was just joking. Sit with me. You can order something here.” Innocence radiated from her beautiful face and kept Dan rooted to where he was.
He considered, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He pulled out a chair and sat across the table from her. The waiter arrived and took Dan’s drink order, leaving a menu. Barbara put her reading materials away and discreetly slipped her glasses into the pocket of her briefcase. By the time his meal arrived, Dan and Barbara were chatting amiably.
“You seem to have relaxed from when I first met you this afternoon, Barbara,” Dan commented, pushing his plate away and wiping his face with the linen napkin.
“I have,” she said, flashing a brilliant smile.
“Well, that’s good.”
“Mmm-hmm. Thank you,” Barbara offered, bringing the wine glass to her soft lips.
“‘Thank you’? Why are you thanking me?”
“You took my mind off work, that’s why,” she responded, setting her wine glass back on the table. Her light pink nails twirled the stem of the glass around, those pretty blue eyes gazing at the wine as it swirled around. “Plus, it’s kind of like being around my sons’ friends…but not.”
Dan groaned and turned red. “Thanks, Barbara. Had to put me in my place, didn’t you?”
Barbara laughed into her glass as she took a sip. “What? I’m the old one here. What are you getting embarrassed about?”
“Oh, come on, Barbara. Old? Look, I don’t know how old you are and I’m not asking–“
“Forty-four,” she interrupted.
“What? Forty-four. Please! I thought you said you were old enough to be my mom.”
“Well, I don’t know,” she laughed. “For all I know you’re just some college kid.”
“Right. Hanging out in the lounge at the Fairmont on Nob Hill. Whatever. Anyway, no matter your age, you shouldn’t complain. You look better than most women ten years younger than you.”
Barbara blushed. “Thanks. I know. Well, that’s not what I meant, I just know…well, I take care of myself so….”
“Right. Don’t worry about it, Barbara. I can tell you take care of yourself. In fact, if it wasn’t for that ring on your finger, I might consider picking you up.”
“Picking me up?” she scoffed. “Really, Dan. You might consider hitting on me, but I’m the one who decides whether I get picked up.”
He only laughed. “Point taken, Barbara.”
“Please, call me Barb. My friends call me Barb.”
“Your friends, huh? But I thought I reminded you of your sons’ friends?”
“True, but you can still call me Barb if you want.” Barb paused for a moment. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, rising from her seat. “Be right back.”
Dan watched as she walked away. It was his first view of her out of the chair she had been sitting in. She was shorter than he had thought, maybe five-and-a-half feet tall. Now that her back was to him, he could see that her long blonde tresses hung straight, falling a few inches below her shoulder blades. Her proportioned bottom swayed from side to side as she weaved through the tables toward the restrooms. Her bare, tanned legs stood atop conservative black heels. She was clearly comfortable in them: she moved with an easy grace.
Dan’s attention returned to his drink as Barb turned the corner out of his sight. The waiter returned, and Dan took the liberty of having their drinks refreshed. The woman returned a few minutes later, and he watched her approach.
Sexy wasn’t the right word. Beautiful worked, but was too general, too broad. Wholesome, maybe? Trimmed eyebrows separated a high forehead and arched over those baby-blue eyes. A pixie-ish nose led toward pink lips that were just short of being puffy. So, beautiful? Yes, but very Midwestern, very girl-next-door.
As she sat, Barb tucked her black skirt beneath her bottom. Though Dan watched her discretely, a form-fitting black silk top beneath a pink cashmere cardigan sweater prevented him from discerning the size of her breasts. A strand of pearls was draped around her neck, matching a smaller strand on her right wrist. When he looked back at her face, an odd smile formed on her lips, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
“I ordered you another drink,” Dan said, nodding his head at the full glass of chardonnay. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Barb brought the glass to her supple lips and allowed some of the golden fluid to flow into her mouth. “So, I’m sorry. Where were we?”
“You were telling me to call you Barb instead of Barbara.”
“Ah. Yes. That’s right.”
“So tell me, do you let all your sons’ friends call you Barb?” Dan teased.
Barb smiled at him indulgently, acknowledging his playfulness, but answered him seriously. “It’s not so much what I let them call me. I’m still their friends’ mom and…anyway, you’re different. We don’t really know each other, and we’re just here having drinks, so we can have fun with it.”
“Well, what do your sons’ friends call you?” Dan took a long drink from the tumbler as he awaited Barb’s answer.
“What do they call me? They call me Mrs. Erickson. That’s what they all call me.” She paused for just a moment. “If you wanted to be one of my sons’ friends, you’d call me Mrs. Erickson.”
“‘If you wanted to be one of my sons’ friends’? What does that mean?”
“Just…nothing.” Barb fidgeted a little in her seat, her hands again twirling the wine glass around on its base. “Just that you can call me Barb, or you can call me Mrs. Erickson. It just depends on whether you’re my friend or one of my sons’ friends.”
‘This is getting a bit interesting,’ Dan thought to himself. “Well…what do you want me to call you?”
“Whatever you want…it doesn’t matter to me.”
Dan paused. “You really don’t care?”
“Not at all,” she responded, meeting his gaze and holding it.
“Sure?”
“Sure,” she said with a curt nod, before bringing the glass to her lips again. The ring on her left finger sparkled in the dim light of the lounge.
Dan smiled. “Are you flashing that ring at me on purpose, Barb? Giving me a warning or something?”
“What? No. Sorry. There’s nothing to warn you about, is there? I’m a married woman, and you’re young enough to be friends with my sons. Well…almost young enough.”
“Okay. So, even though you don’t care what I call you, what do you think I should call you?”
Barb pondered the question as she discreetly swirled the chardonnay in her mouth before swallowing. “It depends, I suppose.”
“On what?”
Her eyes wandered around the lounge before settling back on Dan. “On how you want me to look at you.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He truly was confused, though still intrigued at the direction the evening had taken.
“Well, my friends are all women,” she began slowly. “Soooo…if you want me to look at you like I look at them, then you should be my friend.”
Dan merely nodded and took another pull of his vodka and soda. “And?”
“And if you want me to look at you like you’re a young man instead of a woman, then you should be one of my sons’ friends.”
Dan was enjoying this…whatever this was. “Which do you think I’d like better?”
“Again, that depends.”
Dan smiled. “Are you sure you’re a lawyer?”
She laughed. “Yes.” Dan loved her laugh; it was so soft and graceful and pure.
“So, it depends on what?”
Barb took a long pull on her wine now and finished the glass. “It depends on whether you would like to sit here all night and have a few drinks while we talk.” She signaled to the waiter, who quickly arrived. “Vodka martini, please. Dirty. And blue cheese olives, two of them, if you have them.”
As the waiter went off, Dan continued: “And if that is what I want, to sit here all night and have a few drinks?”
“Friend.” Another curt nod. “Definitely friend.”
“All right. And what does that get me?”
Barb looked perplexed. “What does it get you? Well, good company for a few hours, of course. And then, in the morning, a headache and a dry mouth, I would think.”
“Well, I suppose I like the good company part, but I’m not so sure about the hangover.” Dan finished his drink just as Barb’s martini arrived. “Sorry, could you bring me another Ketel-and-soda?”
“Of course, sir.”
After the waiter left, Barb replied, “If you don’t want the hangover, then perhaps being my friend is not the best choice for you.”
“You might be right.” Dan paused and looked around the room. Returning his gaze to Barb, he continued, “So what if I also don’t want to sit here all night and gab? What then?”
“Well, as I said, it might work out better for you if you’re not my friend. It might be better if you’re one of my sons’ friends.” A shrug of the shoulders, as if to say, ‘The choice is yours.’
“Why?”
“Well, you wouldn’t have that hangover in the morning, for one thing,” she responded, arching her trimmed eyebrows.
“True. I don’t like hangovers, so that’s nice.”
“Yes, it is. Plus, you wouldn’t have to sit here all night.”
“Well, to be honest, that part I don’t mind so much, the sitting here with good company part.” The waiter returned with Dan’s drink. “Thanks.”
“Hmm. I see,” Barb said when the waiter had again left them. “I guess you could still have the good company part without having to sit here all night.” She was looking at her hands, resting on the table. The light pink nails of her right hand fiddled with the ring on her left. She turned the diamond so that it was facing her palm, seemed to consider it for a moment, and then turned it back.
“Really? How would that work?”
“You could signal the waiter over here, I suppose,” she said, tilting her head toward the departing waiter.
“But he just left. He might get a little upset with us.”
“I doubt he’ll get upset with me. Maybe with you, but not with me. Waiters like pretty girls as long as we’re not snotty to them. But anyway, just leave him a big tip when you close your tab. That’ll keep him happy.”
“Okay.” Dan decided to play, recognizing that it might just land him in his room, alone, but willing to take that risk. He raised his arm and caught the attention of the waiter, who nodded. Dan returned his attention to Barb. “All right, if I signaled the waiter, what would I do after that?”
“You might consider asking him for the tab.”
Nodding, Dan caught the waiter’s eye again and gave him the universal ‘bring the check’ hand signal. “You know, I think I might rather sit here and talk to you all night. Maybe I should backtrack here and choose the other option. You know, be your friend instead of one of your sons’ friends. Otherwise, I might be spending the evening in my room watching TV. Kind of boring, if you ask me.”
“I think you should maybe give this option a chance. See what happens,” Barb said with a little sparkle in her eye and a crooked smile on her lips. Dan heard a soft thump below the table. Subtly casting his eyes downward, he saw that one of Barb’s heels had fallen from a foot to the marble floor below.
“I don’t know. It seems that if I follow this choice, you might be patting me on the head and sending me home soon.”
Barb laughed and took a sip of her martini. “Well, you never know,” she said, swallowing. “But seriously…just trust me here. Just wait and see how this plays out.” Dan felt her bare foot brush lightly against his calf. He swallowed.
“If you say so. I’ll give you a little room here. After all, you know yourself better than I do.”
When the waiter returned with his tab, Dan signed it and left him a forty percent tip. Showing it to Barb, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Enough?” he asked.
“Sure, that’ll do.” Barb looked up at the waiter with her baby-blue eyes. “Sorry we had you running back and forth.” Her foot traced a lazy line up the inside of Dan’s leg, toward his knee, as she spoke.
“No problem, ma’am. Have a good evening.”
“You as well,” Barb said, smiling, as the waiter departed once again.
“All right,” Dan said, once they were alone, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on the table. “So I want to be one of your sons’ friends, and I’ve called the waiter over and taken care of the bill.” Dan paused, involuntarily, when Barb’s pink-pedicured toes lightly grazed higher, along the inside of his thigh just above the knee. “What now? Why is this better than being your friend? I mean, we’re still sitting here. Still having a drink. I’m still enjoying the company. Seems like there’s no real difference. So why is this the better option for me?”
“Hmm. I guess it’s not.” Barb frowned, but then her pretty face brightened. She slid her probing foot higher, and pressed the soft sole of her foot firmly against Dan’s straining cock, causing him to groan deep in his throat. “At least not yet. But maybe, if you followed me out of the lounge. Maybe then it might be better.”
“Really? How so?” Dan managed, his voice catching in the back of his throat, as Barb removed her foot from between his legs.
“How so? Well, if you followed me, I might lead you back to my room for an after-dinner drink,” she responded in a sultry voice, slipping her bare foot back into the heel and rising to her feet.
“Hmm. But couldn’t I have been invited back there as your friend?” Dan asked, looking up at her, the feigned confusion exaggerated both on his face and in his voice.
“You know, you’re right,” she said, placing a hand on her trim hip, staring off at nothing, before returning her gaze to him. “I never thought of that. I guess you could have.”
“So why, then, do I want to be your sons’ friend instead of just being your friend?” Dan poured the rest of the vodka down his throat.
“Aaahhh,” Barb said, a smile quickly spreading across her face. “I see where you’re confused, sweetie.” She bent over him, cupping his cheek. Her scent wafted over him.
“You do?”
“Sure,” she said, smoothing the back of her hand over Dan’s cheek, bending over further toward him. “If you’re my friend, I’d show you my suite and we might have a glass of wine, but then you’d be on your way, back to your room for a good night’s sleep,” she explained, her eyes wide as though talking to a child.
“And if I’m your sons’ friend?” There was a little tremor in his voice.
Barb leaned in closer and whispered in Dan’s ear, her hot breath sending chills up his spine and blood to his cock. “I don’t fuck my friends, sweetie…but if you’re my sons’ friend, I’ll send you back to Chicago and that pretty little girlfriend of yours with stars in your eyes.”
With that, she straightened, retrieved her briefcase, and turned on her heel, sauntering toward the elevators.
Dan slid the tumbler away from him, not watching as it slid slowly across the table, gliding on the surface of the pooled condensation. His gaze was trained on the shapely butt that was receding through the lounge, watching as it swayed from side to side. Dan quickly got to his feet and caught up with Barb as she reached the elevators to the old part of the hotel.
As they waited for the elevator to arrive, the couple said nothing. Barb, briefcase in one hand, merely followed the numbers on the panel above the elevator door as they ticked down to “L.” An elderly couple joined them in their wait, and the four boarded the elevator when its doors chimed open.
Barb stood in the back of the cab as it began its ascent, again saying nothing to him, just watching the numbers tick, this time upward, toward the fourth floor. Her face remained expressionless, and she stepped from the elevator without so much as a glance in Dan’s direction. When she exited, he followed her, a puppy dog hoping for its treat. She led him down the wide, tall hallway, and around two corners, before stopping before a door. She waved her keycard in front of the reader, then pushed the door open.
“Have you decided?” she asked with an arched eyebrow, her small frame in the doorway.
Dan tilted his head. “Decided? Decided what?”
Barb gave him an indulgent smile. “Friend, or sons’ friend, silly.”
Dan grinned down at her and nodded his head. “Sons’ friend. I thought that was obvious.”
Barb shrugged and then stepped through the door, beckoning Dan to follow. Once through the doorway, he took a brief moment to observe the mini-suite that was Barb’s home for a few nights.
“Would you like that drink now?” she inquired as she set her briefcase on the desk, her back to him.
“Sure. What do you have?”
Barb turned on her heel to face him. “Actually, I don’t really feel like another drink tonight. I think I’ve had enough.” She paused, a sly smile creasing her features. “Hey, were you trying to get me drunk?” A hand floated to the pearl button that held the top of the cashmere sweater closed. A subtle flick and the button came free.
Dan laughed, somewhat nervously. “Not at all. I think it was you who was trying to get me drunk.” A second button came loose as he spoke.
“Don’t be silly, sweetie. That wouldn’t be appropriate. After all, I could get in trouble for supplying alcohol to my sons’ friend.” Barb worked the last button free and shrugged the pink sweater off her shoulders. She folded it neatly over the back of the desk’s chair.
Dan’s heart beat hard in his chest. “Lucky I picked up the tab, then,” he managed to respond, as Barb moved past him toward the couch.
“Mmm. Lucky for me, anyway. I don’t know how I’d explain such a large tab.” Barb sat on one end of the couch, draping one tanned leg over the other, a heel dangling from her toes. She lightly patted the cushion next to her and Dan walked the few steps and sat down, but at the opposite end.
Barb’s lower lip curled out in a mock pout. “Over here, Dan,” she implored, again patting the cushion next to her.
“I don’t want to seem inappropriate, Barb. If it’s inappropriate for you to buy alcohol for me, then surely it would be inappropriate for me to sit so close to you behind closed doors.”
“Barb? Don’t you mean…Mrs. Erickson?”
Dan looked confused for a moment but soon realized his error. “Of course. Mrs. Erickson. I’m sorry.”
“Think nothing of it. And of course, it would. Be inappropriate, I mean,” she said, slowly inching toward him along the cushions of the couch. Her lean legs uncrossed as she moved, and the silk of her skirt caught on the cushion, exposing more of her delicious thighs. “But wouldn’t you agree that this evening has already taken a turn towards the inappropriate?”
As Mrs. Erickson moved closer to Dan, he inhaled her scent. He felt a light sweat break across his forehead, and a small tremor arose in his hands. “Yes, I suppose it has.”
“You suppose?” Mrs. Erickson laughed at this, a soft, sultry laugh. “My husband’s two thousand miles away tucked safely in bed. I’ve invited a man almost young enough to be my oldest son up to my hotel room. Isn’t that inappropriate?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her body brushed against him, breasts pressed into his arm, and her right hand reached out and lightly rubbed his thigh.
“I’m sure your husband would think so,” Dan responded, his tone matching hers.
“I’m certain he would. And he would also find it inappropriate that I rubbed my little foot against you in the lounge, wouldn’t he?” Looking into her eyes as she spoke, Dan almost jumped when her fingers traced lightly over the bulge in his jeans.
“Mmm-hmm,” he managed.
Mrs. Erickson’s fingers traced a squiggly line up Dan’s bulge and found his belt buckle. Without tearing her eyes from his, she gently loosened the buckle and pulled the belt free. “And do you think what I whispered in your ear tonight was inappropriate?”
“Uh-uh.”
“No? Well, let me ask you this, then,” she continued, her voice soft in the silence of the room. “Do you think my husband – not you, but my husband – would have found it inappropriate?” As the words tumbled over her lush, pink lips, Mrs. Erickson’s fingers grasped the fabric surrounding the button to Dan’s pants and popped the button loose.
“Positively,” Dan said with a nod. The sound of his zipper descending was momentous.
Mrs. Erickson gave a slight tug at his pants, and Dan lifted his butt from the cushion. “And what did I whisper in your ear, sweetie? What was it that I said to you?” she inquired, sliding his pants down his legs until they were pooled at his ankles.
“You said if I was one of…” Dan briefly lost the ability to speak when Mrs. Erickson reached into his boxers with her right hand and pulled his thick cock from its confines, her cool hand contrasting wickedly with the intense heat that emanated from the shaft.
“Yes…continue, please,” she taunted him as she gently scraped her nails lightly along the underside of the exposed pole.
Dan regained his senses, for the time being anyway, though he was beginning to pant. “You said…that if I…was one of…your sons’ friends…you would have…sex with me.” As he spoke, Mrs. Erickson wrapped her dainty fingers around his cock and began a gentle up-and-down stroking motion. The sound of the pearls of her bracelet clattering against each other roared in his ears like the clickety-clack of a freight train.
Mrs. Erickson frowned. “Did I say that? Did I say I would have sex with you?” She paused, her grip at the root of his cock, and seemed to ponder what she’d whispered in his ear in the lounge, then looked into the young man’s eyes. “No…I did not say that. That’s not what I said, Dan. And I think you know it,” she intoned. “I said I would fuck you. Not sex. Fucking. That I’d fuck you, then send you home to your sweet little girlfriend. Isn’t that right?”
“Hmm-mmm.” Dan again found it difficult to form sentences as Mrs. Erickson resumed her stroking, her grip tightening.
“Do you want to fuck, Dan?” she asked needlessly as she slowed to spread his leaking pre-cum around the crown of his cock with her soft thumb.
“Yessssss,” he hissed, eyes closed, hands reaching out and grabbing the edge of the cushions.
“Yes, what?” Mrs. Erickson resumed stroking the thick shaft, picking up where she left off, her effort becoming more vigorous.
“Yes, pleeeease,” he almost whined.
Mrs. Erickson slowed her stroke. “I see your mother taught you manners, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.” She leaned toward him, her soft lips brushing against his ear. Her tongue flickered lightly at his earlobe. Blowing hot breath, sending chills up his spine and causing him to shiver in his lust for this woman, she whispered, “‘Yes, Mrs. Erickson.’ Isn’t that what you mean?”
“Oh, God,” Dan groaned, as Mrs. Erickson brought her hand to her mouth and gracefully – somehow gracefully – allowed a certain amount of saliva to escape from between her plush lips and collect in her palm. When she placed her saliva-slicked hand back around Dan’s pulsing cock, he continued, “Yesss, Mrs. Erickson.”
“Yes, Mrs. Erickson, what?” she again whispered, her lips still at his ear. “I want to hear you say it,” she demanded. Mrs. Erickson’s vigorous tugging of Dan’s cock turned harsher, her slender fingers tightening around the fat stalk. She felt the blood pumping through the veins that crisscrossed the young cock, and an intense heat that melded her palm to it.
“Yes, Mrs. Erickson, I want to…to fuck,” he grunted. Mrs. Erickson left a soft kiss on Dan’s earlobe and down the side of his neck and turned to take in the rigid shaft gripped in her tugging fist. She stared briefly and watched as the head turned bright purple – angry purple almost – and then shiny. Pre-cum flowed liberally from the darkened slit, aiding her efforts. She realized that if she didn’t slow down, strands of thick cum would soon follow the pre-cum, so she slowed her shucking, loosening her grip.
Mrs. Erickson’s free hand drifted up from her lap and found the top button to his oxford. She freed it, and the remaining buttons after it, with little effort, spreading the plackets and exposing Dan’s hairless chest. “You want your friend’s mom to fuck you, is that it?” she teased him as she planted wet kisses along his neck and the top of his chest.
“Oh God, yes,” he moaned. Mrs. Erickson smoothed her hand across his firm pectoral muscles and down across his taut stomach. Kicking a leg over one of his, she used her foot – still clad in a heel – to push Dan’s shoes off, and ease his pants over his feet.
“Are you going to give me my fantasy, Dan?” she whispered as her pink lips found one of his nipples and sucked it into her wet mouth. Dan could only moan in response. “Do you know what my fantasy is? Do you know what it is I really want? What I want right now?”
With a light bite, Mrs. Erickson released Dan’s nipple from her mouth and kicked her leg the rest of the way over Dan’s body. She pulled herself up so that was straddling him, her skirt bunching around her waist, her arms encircling his neck, the warmth of her body pressing against his naked torso.
Dan couldn’t respond. His senses were overloaded. His cock was trapped between his stomach and her panty-covered pussy. Despite the silky barrier, he felt her heat, her wetness. He released his grip on the cushions, and his arms encircled her waist, resting at the small of her back.
Mrs. Erickson adjusted herself and placed her lips at his ear, breathing heavily. Dan shuddered as his mind comprehended the wet sounds that penetrated his inner ear. “I’ve always wanted to fuck one of Jack’s friends. To feel a fresh, young cock filling my pretty little pussy.”
Without waiting for his reaction, Mrs. Erickson let her body slide down his, leaving wet kisses along his neck, collarbone, and chest. As she slowly lowered herself to her knees, the bottom hem of her top caught on the tip of Dan’s cockhead, slowly pulling the top up as she continued her descent.
“So, do you think you can fulfill my fantasy, Dan?” she queried, sliding further to her knees. Dan again shuddered as the warm skin of Mrs. Erickson’s taut belly smoothed its way along the underside of his cockhead.
“I’ll…I’ll certainly try,” he stuttered as Mrs. Erickson came to rest on her knees, between his thighs. She lifted the silk top over her breasts and let it fall to her side. Her breasts were not overly large: encased in a white, silk bra sat two well-formed breasts, a bit larger than ripe oranges. A hint of a tan line peeked above the top of one of the cups.
“Try to what?” she continued, her hand again closing around the thick cock, tugging it up and down. Dan closed his eyes and was again assailed with the sound of the clunking pearls on her wrist as she increased both her speed and her grip on him. She waited in silence for his response.
“I’ll try…to be…your fantasy.” He could not stop stuttering.
Mrs. Erickson dropped her head over Dan’s cock and took the head into her wet mouth, sucking it between her pink lips. Her tongue lapped softly at the very tip of his cock before she forced those soft lips over the bulging crown, her baby-blue eyes rolling up. As the ridge of the head passed between her full lips – glistening with her own saliva and his pre-cum – she took more of the shaft into her mouth, keeping her soft pink lips taut, pausing occasionally to swipe her tongue across the sensitive head. Her descent down the length of the young man’s shaft was slow, purposeful.
“Jesus Christ,” Dan muttered under his breath. “That feels so fucking good, Barb.”
She abruptly pulled the shaft from her mouth, and gently squeezed down at the base of his shaft. “That feels so fucking good, who?” she inquired with mock seriousness.
Dan’s eyes popped open when her mouth withdrew. “Mrs. Erickson. Mrs. Erickson, I mean. Sorry,” he murmured.
Satisfied, Mrs. Erickson resumed stroking the overheated shaft. “Try to remember, Dan. You’re here to be my fantasy, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And you remember what my fantasy is, don’t you?” Mrs. Erickson increased the pace of her stroking as she grilled him.
“Yessss,” he hissed.
“What is it? Tell me again,” she demanded. Her tugging again became rough, almost brutal, but the slippery mix of her saliva and his pre-cum prevented it from being painful. “I don’t want any misunderstandings between us. I need to know that you know what your role is, okay? So tell me again…what’s my fantasy?”
“To fuck…one of your…sons’ friends,” Dan panted.
“That’s right, kid. And what are you? Who are you tonight? Hmm?” The speed of Mrs. Erickson’s hand continued to increase, her first almost a blur.
“One of…your sons’…friends,” he almost cried out.
Mrs. Erickson relented and bent to take the engorged cock between her soft lips. Her head bobbed up and down, her tongue snaking out and gliding along the underside of Dan’s shaft each time she began a downward bob. His head lolled back and forth, his eyes screwed shut. With very little of Mrs. Erickson’s treatment, Dan felt that he was on the verge of cumming; his hands again gripped the cushions and his hips involuntarily jerked up and into Mrs. Erickson’s face, driving his cock deeper into her mouth than she had expected. When the cockhead rammed into the back of her throat, her eyelids fluttered over those pretty eyes, and the woman gagged and pulled it from her mouth.
“Easy, young man,” she coughed, one hand still stroking him, the other planted just above the root of his cock, holding him steady. A thin string of saliva hung between the head of Dan’s cock and her lower lip before snapping, dangling from her chin. “I’m not the town whore,” she said gently. “Treat me with a little respect. Treat me like I’m the mother of one of your friends.” With that, Mrs. Erickson again sucked the young cock into her wet mouth.
Dan groaned at her tone, thinking back to Mrs. Morgan, Steve’s mother. Through his lust-fogged brain, he knew Mrs. Erickson didn’t understand the irony. He didn’t think she would appreciate being treated the way Mrs. Morgan liked to be treated. But the memory evaporated quickly.
He opened his eyes and reveled in his view. Mrs. Erickson was on her knees before him, her shiny, pink lips stretched around his swollen cock. Her baby blue eyes rested easily, comfortably on his; he could see her smiling through them when she again popped his slick cock from her mouth.
“Enjoying yourself? Isn’t this what you want? To fuck your friend’s mom? The neighborhood mother every boy wants to put his cock in?” Mrs. Erickson placed just the cockhead – purple and shiny – between her lips, holding it there securely, just over the crown. Her right hand began a frantic stroking of the shaft. Somewhere overhead, an air conditioner kick on. The faint hum was accompanied only by the jangling of the strand of pearls on her wrist as Mrs. Erickson’s hand stroked up and down Dan’s swollen shaft, her slender fingers glistening lewdly in spit and pre-cum.
She dropped her left hand from his thigh and cupped his balls, gently kneading them, rolling them across her fingers, and dragging her nails across the sensitive flesh of the ball sac. Occasionally, her fingers darted down and tickled his perineum. Dan’s cockhead swelled in her mouth, and she felt an increased heat wash over them. The kid was about to cum.
Mrs. Erickson wanted to leave the bloated cockhead where it was. She wanted to wrap her fist even tighter around the twitching shaft. She wanted to give this young man what he so desperately wanted – release within her hot, sucking mouth. She wanted to revel in this wickedness she had never known, the almost sinful act of an older woman giving herself up to a young man. To one of her sons’ best friends. But she wasn’t ready for all of that yet. She wasn’t ready for his cum to splash against the back of her throat.
She released the searing cockhead from her lips and gradually slowed the pace of her stroking. Her chin was a mess, slick with her saliva, the pre-cum that had flowed from the young man’s cockhead. Her lips were slack, a bit puffy, and she panted softly.
As Dan’s breathing returned to normal, Mrs. Erickson stood and reached beneath her skirt with both hands. Her slender fingers gently pulled the silk panties down her shapely thighs. She straightened, losing her grip on the panties, and they fell to a puddle at her feet.
Mrs. Erickson stepped from the twisted silk garment, and again straddled his waist. She reached behind her and released the catches at the back of her bra. As it fell from her chest, Dan inhaled at the sight of Mrs. Erickson’s breasts. They were clearly not augmented. At forty-four, they hung just slightly from her chest. A faint tan line formed a triangle around each mass, and a thin, almost indiscernible white line connected the bottoms of the triangles. Her areolas were broad, smooth, and pinkish-brown in color. At the center of each areola sat a nipple, slightly swollen with need.
“Beautiful,” he muttered. Dan’s hands move to touch her, to feel her breasts, to squeeze them and feel the soft, pliant flesh mold to his fingers. But Mrs. Erickson had other ideas, and she leaned forward and placed one magnificent breast at Dan’s mouth.
Her hips rolled forward, and the wetness that had formed along her folds dripped along the length of Dan’s cock. As Mrs. Erickson leaned further toward him, he felt a tuft of soft hair tickle the underside of his cock. It lurched upward, bumping against the splayed lips of her pussy, and she let out a soft moan at the contact.
As Mrs. Erickson’s breast approached his mouth, Dan’s lips parted and he took the fattened nipple between them and sucked. He sucked more, and the areola disappeared into his mouth. Dan swirled his tongue around the nipple, feeling it harden and lengthen in his mouth. He swiped his tongue over the smooth flesh of the areola; goosebumps rose from the flesh and left the woman’s breath huffing.
Mrs. Erickson snaked a hand behind his head and pulled him closer, urging him to suck her harder. Her nails dug into his scalp. Her hips began to roll up and down; each time her glistening labia brushed against Dan’s cock, it heaved and pushed more forcefully at her entrance, occasionally slipping against her exposed clitoris.
“Your mouth on me feels so good, sweetie,” she moaned, rocking her hips more insistently now. Dan released the breast from his mouth and, placing his hands on her ribs, just beneath her armpits, shifted Mrs. Erickson’s lithe body to give him access to the neglected breast.
“Amazing breasts, Mrs. Erickson. Absolutely amazing,” he responded before taking the unattended nipple between his lips, his teeth nibbling lightly at the sensitive flesh.
Mrs. Erickson trembled at his words. At forty-four, a barely attentive husband at home, she thought she was past the age of caring what other people thought of her physical attributes, past the age of trying to attract men. But Dan’s attention to her in the lounge, and his praises of her body, proved her wrong. It excited her immensely to know that her body was still able to thrill men.
Beneath her was a young man – a kid, really – in his mid-twenties, quivering at her touch. She felt his bloated shaft between them, sliding along her slick pussy lips, fluttering against her clit. She – her body, her sexuality – had caused it to become engorged, thick and rigid, and scored with pulsing veins.
Mrs. Erickson felt wanted, she felt alive. Above all, she felt wicked, corrupt, slutty. She said it earlier. Her husband was at home, and here she was, in a hotel room with a strange young man, and things had gone far, far, far beyond inappropriate. He was naked beneath her. Only her skirt and heels remained, and her skirt was unable to protect her decency. It was gathered around her waist, and one errant move would have her impaled on the young thick cock that was gliding between her lips. Mrs. Erickson quivered at the thought.
She leaned back, pulling her breast from Dan’s mouth. “I’m ready,” she whispered.
“Ready…for what?” Dan asked.
Mrs. Erickson took his face in her hands and bent to him, closing her lips over his, her tongue probing into his mouth hungrily. Dan readily accepted it, and their tongues swirled over each other. Her lips were soft against his. She rocked her hips against him, causing his cock to slide ever more fluidly along her sopping folds, and her tongue delved deeper into his mouth. He moaned at her obvious lust.
“Ready for my fantasy,” she moaned into his mouth. “Ready to fuck that young…fresh…cock.” Mrs. Erickson rocked her hips harder against him and the searing heat of his cockhead lit her exposed clit on fire. “Ready for my little toy.”
“Oh, God, yesss,” Dan hissed.
Mrs. Erickson pulled her mouth away from his and, reaching behind her, pulled off her heels, dropping them on the hardwood floor of the suite. Holding on to Dan’s shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, she got her feet beneath her and squatted over the upright cock. It pulsed in the cool air of the room. Her pussy dripped down its length. It wavered and bobbed, brushing against her splayed pussy lips.
Dan, enthralled by the light blond tuft of hair that sat above Mrs. Erickson’s clit, moved to steady his cock, wanting to feel her heat surround him, engulf him. But Mrs. Erickson gently moved his hand away. “Let me,” she muttered, lost in her own world of lust. “You just watch.”
Dan acquiesced. She held herself steady with her right hand digging into his shoulder. Her legs trembled slightly at the exertion of squatting over him. She reached between them and gave his cock two or three gentle tugs. Her engagement and wedding rings came into his line of sight, and his cock twitched.
“Are you watching?” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m watching.”
Mrs. Erickson released his cock from her grip for a moment, and swiped her pink manicured nails along her slit, gathering her wetness on her fingertips. Her hand returned to the pulsing shaft, lubricating it, stroking it.
“What do you see?” she asked in a whisper.
“My cock…about to enter you.”
“About to fuck me?” Mrs. Erickson maneuvered Dan’s cock so the head brushed against her labia; she let out a little gasp.
“Yeah, about to fuck you,” Dan breathed, placing his hands on her hips, willing Mrs. Erickson to impale herself on him. He pulled down slightly, hoping to coax her, but she resisted.
“Are you still my fantasy?”
“Yeah…I have the…young cock…you crave,” he panted. Mrs. Erickson ground the head of Dan’s cock hard against her clit, and her baby-blue eyes fluttered.
“How old?” she muttered.
Dan again urged her to drop herself onto him, but she remained solidly planted above him, alternately swiping his cock across her pussy lips or over her swollen clit.
“How old?” she repeated.
“Twenty-five,” Dan relented.
“No,” Mrs. Erickson almost whimpered. She moved his cockhead away from the entrance to her pussy and resumed stroking it. “How old?” she implored, eyes screwed shut as she reveled in the depravity of what she was doing.
“Twenty-four,” Dan responded tentatively, looking up at her. Mrs. Erickson remained mute but shook her head, her radiant blond hair tossing back and forth over her face. “Twenty?”
Dan’s cock trembled in her hand. He couldn’t take much more. She ceased stroking him and again moved the cockhead back to her pussy. “Please, Mrs. Erickson,” he pleaded, gently tugging at her hips.
Dan barely heard her. “Eighteen. You’re eighteen…Jimmy.”
Dan arched his hips off the couch and watched as the head of his cock parted the soft, dripping, pink lips of Mrs. Erickson’s pussy. “Omigod,” Mrs. Erickson moaned at the penetration. “I shouldn’t…be…doing this,” she muttered, her voice raspy, barely audible, catching in the back of her throat.
Dan relaxed his hips and his cock withdrew from her folds. “It’s okay, Mrs. Erickson…I won’t tell anyone…it’ll be our little secret.” Dan again arched into her, putting more effort into it this time. His cockhead disappeared completely within Mrs. Erickson’s pussy, and then he withdrew it, slowly settling back onto the couch.
Above him, the woman whimpered. Her legs shook. A bead of perspiration slid down her collarbone, then between her breasts, followed by another. Mrs. Erickson chewed her lower lip, her nails clawing into his shoulders.
“This…this is what you…wanted…isn’t it…Mrs. Erickson?” he panted. “To fuck me? To fuck…one of Jack’s…friends? Fuck me, Mrs. Erickson!” he snapped. Mrs. Erickson’s eyes flew open at the harsh command. He continued, softer, “Come on, Mrs. Erickson. You want my eighteen-year-old cock buried in your pussy, don’t you? Don’t you want Jimmy’s young cock filling you?”
Dan grabbed Mrs. Erickson’s hips tighter this time and began pulling her down from her squat. It didn’t take much effort. It actually didn’t take any effort, for Dan’s words had sent Mrs. Erickson over the precipice.
“Yesssssss,” she hissed as she let her legs give way beneath her. Her eyes squeezed shut at the violation, and she fell forward against Dan’s chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers grasping at his hair. “Fuck me, Jimmy!” she moaned into Dan’s ear. “Oh, fuck! I’ve wanted this for so…fucking…long!” Mrs. Erickson, her pussy fully impaled on Dan’s thick cock, rocked her hips frantically against him, grinding her engorged clit against his pubic bone. “To feel your young cock inside me, fucking me.”
Dan maintained his grasp on Mrs. Erickson’s hips, assisting in her rocking. “So have I, Mrs. Erickson,” Dan panted into her ear. “I never thought…you’d let me.”
“I’ll let you…Jimmy…just keep fucking me…your young cock…feels so good…stretching…my cunt!” Mrs. Erickson was shocked by her own language. She would occasionally use foul language, but could not remember the last time she had used the word ‘cunt.’
Dan bent his head and took an engorged nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Mrs. Erickson moaned above him, and he lightly bit at the nipple, holding it between his teeth as the mother continued to grind her clit against him. Mrs. Erickson’s breathing became erratic, and she was now jerking against him, all pretense of control gone. Her body shook and jerked and her chest glistened in sweat. Stray strands of blonde hair stuck to her cheek and her eyes rolled.
He released the nipple and gave her a light slap on the ass. “Ride my young cock, Mrs. Erickson! Fuck me! Omigod!” Dan’s breathing too became less steady, more labored, and he buried his head between her breasts. “I never…would have guessed…that Jack’s mom was…such a slut,” he moaned into her wobbling breasts.
“I’m not…a slut,” Mrs. Erickson protested, her lithe body still jerking against the young man she didn’t know a few hours previously.
“You’re fucking…your sons’ best friend…Mrs. Erickson…an eighteen-year-old…What does that…make you?” Mrs. Erickson didn’t respond. Dan allowed a hand to leave her hips, and brought it to one of her nipples, squeezing the distended nub between his forefinger and thumb. “I’m your sons’…best friend…still in high school…and you’re about…to cum…on my thick…young…cock.” Dan lightly twisted the nipple but squeezed it hard. “That makes you…a filthy…slutty…mom…Mrs. Erickson…a vulture…preying on young cock.”
Mrs. Erickson groaned and her body went rigid; minuscule vibrations radiated from her core as she fell into an orgasm that shut down her mind. He maintained pressure on her nipple and kept thrusting his cock into her now-sopping cunt. Mrs. Erickson had obviously responded to his taunting, and he continued it, whispering in her ear. “I can feel…your cunt…spasming around me…what a filthy little whore you are, Mrs. Erickson…Jack’s mom…such a slut for…fuck…for high school cock…eighteen-year-old cock,” he groaned into the woman’s ear as her tight body shook and trembled through her orgasm. That groan from her throat devolved into a whine and her cunt tightened on his fat cock, clamping down hard around the thrusting shaft, her wetness gushing and soaking his thighs.
As Mrs. Erickson began to come down from her orgasm, Dan was just nearing his. He was really at his wits’ end now. The soft, warm body of Mrs. Erickson above him, shaking and jerking through her orgasm, her breasts squishing against his face, was enough to make him cum. But her little fantasy was too much.
As Mrs. Erickson’s pussy relaxed and she again began to move, Dan arched into her. The bottom side of her pubic bone squeezed at the underside of his cock, right at the root. “Where should I cum?” he asked urgently.
“Cum inside me, Jimmy,” she whispered, still lost in her sick little fantasy. “Cum inside my cunt.” It was too late, anyway. Dan’s cock exploded a single burst of cum before Mrs. Erickson ever had the chance to answer him. It splashed against the inside of her slick, stretched walls, only to be joined by a second and then a third stream of cum.
Dan grabbed her hips hard, preventing her from pulling up and off him. He angled his hips so that the pressure at the base of his cock remained. “Fuckkkk,” he moaned as a fourth torrent of sperm emptied into Mrs. Erickson’s stretched pussy. She had settled down from her orgasm, resting her heaving body against his, as Dan’s sperm shot deep into her cunt.
***
As their breathing returned to normal, she rested her head against his chest and felt his cock shrink inside her.
“Thank you,” she whispered after a few minutes of stunned silence had passed between them.
“For what?” Dan ran his fingers through her disheveled hair, pulling it away from her face.
“For that. For playing my fantasy with me. It’s bad, I know. I shouldn’t be having the thoughts I have. Thankfully, I’ve never acted on them. Just this once. Maybe it’s out of my system now,” she said, smoothing a hand across Dan’s muscular chest.
“Tell me: who’s Jimmy?” Dan could see her cheeks redden. “Come on. After that, there’s no room for secrets.”
“Alright, alright,” she said, lifting herself up. “Jimmy is one of Jack’s friends. I know you’re a guy,” she continued, standing up and moving to the mini-bar, “but if you saw this kid, even you would have to agree that he’s a little hottie.”
Dan laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as she pulled an iced tea from the refrigerator.
“Hottie. It just sounded funny.”
“Whatever. That’s the term Jack uses to describe girls that he likes. So why can’t I use it?”
“No reason. I just thought it was funny.” Mrs. Erickson turned from the refrigerator, opened the can of iced tea, and drank some down. Dan marveled at her body. She was forty-four and all-natural. He didn’t mind plastic; Donna Morgan could attest to that. But it wasn’t often you found a woman Mrs. Erickson’s age whose body could more or less rival that of any thirty-year-old.
“Talk about hottie,” he muttered to himself, his groin stirring again.
“What?”
“Nothing. Why don’t you come back over here?”
Mrs. Erickson glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I don’t think so, Dan. Time for me to hit the sack. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
Dan nodded in understanding, then stood and began to dress. Mrs. Erickson pulled a hotel robe from the closet and wrapped it around her body. When Dan was dressed, she walked him to the door.
“Feel free to call me here if you need more good company, sweetie,” she said, pulling him into a deep kiss, her soft tongue pushing into his mouth.
“I will…Mrs. Erickson,” Dan responded with a smile when he pulled away from the kiss. “And you know, if you’re ever bored while at home…,” he said, pulling a business card from his wallet.
Mrs. Erickson took the card, considering. “Thank you, hun, but I really shouldn’t. It’s one thing here, in some strange town, but it has to stay here. I…I have way too much to risk. I’m flattered, though.” She kissed him again, slipping the card into his shirt pocket. “Take care.”
Dan stepped from the room as Mrs. Erickson shut the door behind him. He hesitated a moment, then bent and slipped his card under the door. “You never know,” he said to himself, walking down the hallway.
