Rain on the windshield. He could barely see through the sheet of rain. But as he drove, the sound of the droplets driving on the glass reminded him of another storm.
The downpour came out of nowhere. He remembered thinking the hotel was not that far from the office, and then being amazed at how much water could descend in that short distance. The office manager offered them a small umbrella which he gallantly gave to her. “It will be easier for you to carry it yourself and not try to share. I’ll run ahead.”
One block and across the street, but he was totally soaked to the skin. Rainwater made a stream from his shirt collar to his waistband. There was nothing to do but laugh as he waited for her in the vestibule..
By the time they got to the adjoining rooms on the upper floor, he was chilled. She turned on a hot shower and helped him quickly strip down – playing caregiver rather than vixen. While he brought up his temperature, she dealt with the wet clothing.
He emerged from the bathroom to find her standing before the large glass window, watching the rain cascade down the pane, wearing his tee-shirt. His wet tee-shirt.
She turned with the city lights forming her silhouette. The dampness of the fabric draped her large breasts and the chill formed her nipples into sharp points. The wetness made the fabric against her skin slightly transparent, so that he could see the darkening of her areola. His head swam with the vision of her near nakedness against the rain-soaked window that sparkled with lights. How could a utilitarian garment that recently acted as barrier between him and his cotton shirt now seem like the arrayment of a Roman deity?
“I thought your shirt might dry faster against my body heat … but I might be wrong.”
“I can see that.”
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Oh no.”
She began to move slowly away from the window and across the room. “But now that I’m getting a little chilly, I should probably take it off.”
“Probably. But let me look at you one more moment.”
She was just outside his reach. “If you insist.”
He could almost feel the steam emanating from the contrast of the heat of her skin and the coolness of the fabric. He had never been offered an experience like this and it took his breath away.
Without saying a word, he knew what she wanted when she had donned the wet tee-shirt. It was what she always wanted: his fingers on her nipples. As he gently took the points that protruded from the damp fabric between his finger and his thumb, he heard her sharply inhale and felt her stiffen with electric pleasure. She was predictable that way when he touched her tits, and he loved knowing that this part of her body was so sensitive and erogenous.
“Oh my. Now I’m really wet. And if you keep doing that, I’ll cum right here,” she whispered as he brushed the cotton over her flesh with his thumbs.
“You tell me what you want.”
“I want to borrow your towel.” She reached for the towel he had wrapped around his waist, and he could feel her impatience as she tugged it from his hips. She had made herself wait to see his erection, and she was not disappointed.
“Look what you do to me.”
“You know I’m always proud of myself when I see you this hard.”
He took her fingers to wrap them around his stiffened penis.“Yes I know, just like I know your nipples are the fastest route to make you aroused.”
“It was that easy to figure out?”
“Well, practice helped. But I can always improve with more practice.”
“Oh you are a greedy boy.” She steered him toward the bed. “Now get this wet shirt off of me before I freeze - and then warm me up.”
As she sat on the edge of the bed, his erection was level with her face. She leaned forward to lightly licked his glans as he lifted the cold tee-shirt above her head. Mischief played on her face – her laughing eyes and her sly grin. “Not too much of that tonight. I have waited too long for you to get out of the shower and I have needs.”
“Would you like me to taste you first?”
“Oh no. No time for that. I want you inside me and I want it now,” she commanded as she lay back and spread her legs apart.
“You mean like this?” He supported himself above her, entered her slowly and stopped with just the head of his shaft in her cleft, then slightly withdrew. He knew he was teasing her and she would react.
“No. Like this.” She grabbed his hips as she thrust her pelvis upward, totally plunging his cock in to her slick vagina. She gasped. “I want all of you.”
“You have all of me.” Their eyes locked as he slowly moved his hips to slam his phallus into her again and again. Her face was alight with the intensity of her response to him. With each thrust, she made a gutteral sound of pleasure. She lifted her legs to his shoulders and held his hips more tightly.
“You’re gonna make me cum so hard.”
Even as he said it, he felt her contract and tighten around his cock. Her hold on him meant he was thrusting past her clitoris with increasing intensity, which made her wetter than before. She clung to him so that there was no space between them, only the pulsating of his hips and the sounds of his exertion. At the last moment, she slid her hands to the skin under his buttocks that somehow heightened him to the edge of his euphoria and into his orgasm.
He collapsed on top of her, which is where she wanted him to be. Still connected, they rolled to the side and stayed there as their heavy breathing subsided. She contracted again as he stayed hard for a few more moments.
She twined her fingers in his wet hair. “Sorry you got soaked by the rain while I had the umbrella.”
“I’m not.” And he never would be.+ + +
The downpour started during the last interview. It was always a bad sign that flight delays could start to pile up. Flights coming in would be late arriving, flights going out would be grounded, flights would be cancelled, travelers re-routed. And there was really no option but to wait.
Magnus debriefed the interviews with me as we slogged through the traffic towards airport. It was good to cover the information while it was fresh, it was good to use our time together wisely – but I also wondered if it wasn’t a way to get his mind off the possibility of conflict at departures. We took our roller bags from the dripping trunk and headed to the departure board. Magnus was flying to Chicago with me for a client meeting, and our flight was already delayed by an hour as were all the other departing flights. There was nothing to do but check in and find the comfort of the club room.
One of the blissful perks of frequent travel was the club room. A little oasis of exclusivity with the other Road Warriors. Upholstered chairs and quiet corners, appointed bathrooms and upscale periodicals – but more importantly, a top-shelf bar. We rolled in with our membership numbers and looked for adjacent seats. As was typical during flight delays, any seat at all was a boon. I settled for a club chair near the magazines and Magnus opted for a seat in a phone cubicle with an outlet for his laptop.
The wait time was used to organize my notes on the interviews and begin a template for the report, even though Deborah had responsibility for the final product. Once engaged in a task, I was usually very focused and this was no exception. The bustle of the room receded as the format for communicating the research results came into view. Thus I was surprised when Magnus appeared at my elbow.
“Bad news. Our flight has been cancelled and they are rescheduling us on the last flight to our destination tonight.”
Last flight was always a coin-toss. In these weather situations, sometimes it departed and sometimes it did not. Sometimes it left on time and sometimes it left hours later than expected. Sometimes passengers voluntarily opted to wait until tomorrow, leaving more room for others. And sometimes they did not. More than once, I had ended up in an airport hotel for a three hour nap before returning for a flight at five a.m.
“That’s over two hours from now. We might as well get comfortable.”
“I can’t get comfortable, so I might as well lean on the bar.”
“You are welcome to lean on the bar but I hope you won’t mind if I keep my comfy seat right here.”
“Suit yourself.” Magnus went to elbow his way through the other businessmen who covered the bar like flies on fresh manure.
I continued on my development of a template, but became aware of a sudden exodus from the club. Apparently at least one flight was departing. There were now more places to sit and a little more hope that we would be next.
Magnus stepped away from the bar to talk to the agents at the desk. “Any word on our flight?” I asked as he approached.
“Still delayed. There was a lull in the weather to the west, so that flight made a dash for LA but flight heading east are at a standstill.” He stared out the window into the darkening sky. The blinking lights of the tarmac vehicles reflected on his face.
“Well, I can offer you one of two distractions. I can either show you the template I’m working on. Or I can start a crossword puzzle.”
“Wow,” he said underwhelmed. “You know how to show a guy a good time. Being a business professional, I will begin with option one and see where that takes me.”
As he took the empty chair next to me. I handed him my laptop. As he scrolled through the pages of the presentation, I took the absence of questions to mean the template was self-explanatory. Either that or it was so incomprehensible that he could not begin to formulate a question.
To my relief he said, “That’s a good start. I think it captures the essence of the feedback. Of course we need to add detail and examples, but all-in-all this deck covers the general flow. Good job.”
“Thanks. I guess there is some good learning from fast food to Pharma.”
“Yes, it appears to be so. If you are willing to take dictation, let me tell you where I would make the additions …” And the next thirty minutes flowed effortlessly. Until the announcement.
“Will all passengers waiting for Flight 227 to Chicago O’Hare please check with the podium.”
“I’ll go for both of us. Give you your ticket.” I was happy to stick to my warm seat and continue my entries into the presentation. But again I felt a change in the bustle of the passengers in the club.
“Grab your things. You need to hurry to Gate 12,” Magnus directed quickly.
“Wait, what? I don’t understand …” I said even as I threw things in my briefcase.
“There is a flight leaving now for Chicago. I put you on it.”
“But aren’t you on it, too?”
“No, there was only one seat left. But there is no time to waste.”
“What about you? What will you do? Is there another flight?”
“I don’t know but I’ll figure it out. Now go on …”
“I still don’t understand …”
“You needed to get back and I made a decision. Now go on before I change my mind.” He had me by the elbow moving towards the door.
“Thank you! I really didn’t expect …” But the door closed and the crowd swept me away to the gates before I could finish. I really didn’t expect him to sacrifice his comfort for me? I really didn’t expect him to put me first? I really didn’t expect him to see me as … me?
I boarded the plane in a blur. It wasn’t the flight delay or the curious procedures of the airline that confused me. It was a feeling deep in my chest: “don’t leave, you don’t want to leave.”And I realized the place I really wanted to be was back in the club room, back in that chair. Sharing the space with Magnus.