We were supposed to be professionals. [FM] | 2016

It was supposed to be a purely professional working group, and a purely professional work trip between colleagues. But I hadn’t expected Glen.

Glen and I were two people in a team of ten collaborating on a short project. The process was going to take only a few months. Although it’s not in my area of expertise - I’m not usually supervised by anyone else in the group - I was asked to contribute. With a commitment of a few hours a week, and the opportunity to broaden my professional portfolio, I enthusiastically agreed. It would be a great experience so early in my career, and I swear on my grandfather’s grave that I had the most professional of intentions.

To be honest, I don’t recall being immediately attracted to Glen - who leads the team - when we first met. I remember meeting him, though. There were a lot of things that I could have noticed first; that he was decently taller than me, that he was sharply dressed, that he was most certainly at least a decade older than me. Or his salt and pepper hair, his surprisingly muscular forearms. But as I introduced myself with a brief “Hi! I’m Lex,” what struck me most was this authentic warmth that lit his smile and his sparkling eyes. Have you ever met one of those people who just has a good soul? He’s one of them. I might have been vaguely aware that he was theoretically attractive, but I swear that the only thing I thought after the group’s first meeting was that he was probably going to be an efficient and democratic team leader and that I was excited that he would be in charge.

Oh, and he was clearly wearing a wedding band. I’m a very sexual person and frequently up for some non-romantic physical fun with someone I trust, but I’d never been with a married man and I had no intentions of being a homewrecker. Glen is the kind of man who, were he on Facebook, would constantly be bragging about his family, and I don’t mess with that.

I wonder what he noticed first about me. I’m of average height, and I’m no supermodel. Indeed, the company we work for frequently has a lot of young female interns who are years younger and objectively hotter than I am. I do try to keep in shape when I have the time. I lift, and am pretty proud of my ass, biceps, and fit-yet-curvy shape. I don’t wear super tight or low cut clothing, so it’s quite possible that at that point, Glen had no idea what my physique was like. He may have noticed my long hair, or hazel eyes, or the fact that I have resting bitch face when I’m deep in thought. Who knows?

All of our contact was totally platonic. The project progressed well over the next few weeks - so well, in fact, that the entire group was going to roadtrip to another city to spend a day powering through meetings about potential contracts. We would stay in a hotel overnight and drive back the next day.

Glen was driving three other team members and me. We were to meet at god-awful o’clock in a parking lot. I arrived two minutes before Glen parked and stepped outside of the car, and I swear to you the rising sun lit up his silhouette with fiery gold and as he removed his sunglasses and his eyes did that twinkling thing and all he said was a simple “Good morning,” and I had one feeling: ah, shit.

I was indeed attracted to this brilliant, good-hearted man. “But he’s married, and way older than you” my rational part of my brain reminded myself. Yes! There. Keep reminding myself of that, and of the project goals, and it would be easy to inhibit the sudden realization that what I wanted to do at that moment was taste his lips on mine. Thankfully, the other team members showed up, and I’m a goddamn adult in control of my behavior so I kept my pants on.

A more senior team member rode in the front seat, and I took the seat directly behind Glen. I caught myself watching his dexterous hands, and distracted myself by engaging in a great conversation with another team member. This worked well until it utterly backfired when Glen heard our discussion and piped up to make a comment that was as insightful as it was kind. Pure Glen. Is it weird to be attracted to someone’s mind like that?

We stopped at a rest stop. I perked up at the candy display. Candy! A necessity on a road trip! But, because I am a dummy, I had left my wallet in the car, so I decided to stand around and wait for the other women on the team to emerge from the bathroom. I hadn’t noticed Glen nearby. No, that’s a lie; my body seemed hyper-aware of his, so I knew he was near. I just hadn’t noticed that he was buying candy.

Suddenly he was close. I became aware of how good he smelled.

He smiled and held out his hand to offer me some of the candy he’d bought. I joked that I didn’t want to steal from his bounty, and he only insisted. I smiled, and extended my hand to his to take a single piece. His were warm and dry, and I spent much of the remainder of the drive trying to think of anything else but his strong hands running up my waist. (I frequently failed.)

Still, I was sure that this was a one-sided attraction that would go nowhere. Sure, Glen and I actually shared a lot in common, and whenever the two of us were in conversation it was like meeting a kindred spirit in terms of topics, sense of humor, and wit. But I was sure that if he felt any sort of connection, it was a purely professional one. I was content with that idea.

That changed that night.

The group had wrapped up work for the day, and some of us were feeling celebratory. Glen suggested going to a bar to have just one drink. I enthusiastically agreed -- I was wired from the great progress we’d made and would need the alcohol to help me sleep. Then, as fate would have it, the other team members said they weren’t feeling it and would see us the next morning.

Glen and I headed to a bar and ordered a drink each. We talked about things that were totally professional, on the face of it - mostly related to the project or our similar career backgrounds. But our conversation was laced with a little… levity? Flirtiness? At some point he even mentioned where I grew up. I had only mentioned it once long ago and I was surprised, flattered, and turned on that he’d managed to remember such an inconsequential detail about me. At some point he said something so hilarious that I snorted with laughter, and I touched his arm. It wasn’t planned, but I definitely knew I’d communicated something. I don’t know what he felt.

We ordered a second drink and kept talking and laughing. He was a stellar conversationalist. A lot of guys use conversations to just talk about themselves, but he was genuinely curious about me. Furthermore -- and this will sound weird -- he didn’t make sexual jokes or discuss my appearance or talk about anything untoward. There was nothing skeezy happening. It was clear that Glen is a man of character who would never use a relative position of power for nefarious purposes. My attraction to him deepened, and I continued to war with myself. Did he feel this too? Did I want to act on my desires, and would I want him to act on his?

He graciously paid the bill and we headed up the elevator. My heart quickened as the floors ticked by. My mind wrestled with itself. I don’t want to date the man, I just wanted to get naked with him, see how good I can make him feel with my hands and tongue, and then send him home to dote on his wife.

Ding! The elevator door opened, and I made a last, desperate decision.

“Goodnight!” I said, and I zipped toward my room.

Chickenshit? Ethical? Who knows.

I got in my pajamas and removed my makeup. It was at least fifteen minutes after we’d gotten upstairs, but I remembered that I hadn’t thanked him for taking care of the bill. I texted him. “Thanks for the snacks, the drinks, and driving! See you tomorrow.” I assumed he’d be asleep and didn’t expect a reply, but I won’t lie that I was hopeful for...something.

My phone buzzed. It was Glen. “Thank you. So fun to get to work with you and get to know you. I feel so fortunate to have had the chance…”

My mouth went dry. I definitely should not be texting an older, married man who I was attracted to while in my pajamas and we were in a hotel hundreds of miles from home. But I did. We exchanged a few jokes. I was feeling too nervous to be direct. Besides, he was married. I needed him to make a move.

Then he sent: “What do you want?”

I told him to come to my room.

What the hell am I doing? My brain screamed. We can just talk, some totally-fooling-itself part of my brain said. You are wearing pajamas with no underwear, my brain said.

He knocked, and I let him in. He looked… well, seriously sexy. He still had on his dress shirt, but his hair was just slightly disheveled. He also looked as nervous as I felt.

He sat down on the chair. We both were silent for a few seconds. My heart was pounding and I was shaking slightly out of nerves and excitement. I sat cross legged on the bed to try to hide it.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He rubbed his face then made intense eye contact. “Nervous,” he said, all honesty as usual. I laughed softly and agreed.

He swallowed. “I’ve been married for fifteen years, and I have never been unfaithful.”

Straight to the point. Wow. “Right now, we’re just talking,” I said. Ha. I am so full of shit. I also, frankly, wasn’t sure I believed him. He’s got that deeply sexy older man thing going on, and is actually a decent person who doesn’t hit on every woman he meets - this is probably the most attractive trait a man can have, at least for women like me. I’m positive that scores of other young women have been attracted to him, and it was quite possible that I was lining up to be just another member of a string of women he'd had affairs with. But it didn’t really matter to me, so I didn’t press the issue.

He took another deep breath. “I find you… very attractive. I have since I first saw you.”

I was surprised - remember, I’m no supermodel - but also grateful. I decided to be as honest as him, and while he was still here, to drink in the delicious sight of his still-dressed figure sitting in my hotel room across from me. “I’m very attracted to you, and I’m glad you’re here. All I want is for us to have some physical fun. I won’t do anything that will affect your life, and I need to know that this won’t affect your life back home.” All of this was, and remains, true. If the ensuing conversation would reveal even the slightest hint that what we might do tonight would worsen his life at home, I would call it off.

He nodded slowly. “I love my life,” with directness that surprised me even though it shouldn’t have. He had a great life - a wife, kid, house, probably had a picket fence and a dog too. I went on to learn that he simply wasn’t sexually fulfilled. He and his wife hadn’t been together in a very long time. I, too, had been in a relationship with someone who loved me deeply but didn’t want sex as often as I did. But in any case, it seemed that sex was the only thing missing -- he had no desire to change anything else about his life, and neither did I. He loved his wife and I wanted it to stay that way. We were just two ethical sluts who wanted a sexual friendship, no romance or thoughts for the future wanted or needed.

We were on the same page. But I felt weighted to the bed, not sure of what to do next. Part of me desperately wanted him to take the lead. “I, uh… I don’t have condoms, but my last STD test showed I’m clean,” I blurted clumsily. He smiled crookedly. “I’ve always been faithful.”

It was a powerful thought, that I was the one to break this great man’s resolve.

The air seemed thick with sexual tension, ebbing between two people who desperately longed to touch but needed to be sure that the other wanted it too.

He stood. Raised out his hand, palm open, slowly. His eyes were an open invitation. He waited.

I placed my hand in his. He pulled me up to a standing position, our bodies touching. Oh, he was so close.

I swallowed and looked up into his eyes. “I hadn’t realized how tall you are,” I breathed softly.

He lowered his lips to mine and we kissed. It was so gentle -- I think his breath was shaking, he was still so, so nervous -- and it was simultaneously so, so hot. It was incredible to have my fantasies of experiencing this man come true.

We kissed gently for a while, exploring each other. My hands explored his back, arms, chest. His hands drifted, sometimes gently caressing the back of my head, sometimes my waist. To be wanted so thoroughly like this was so sexy. My heart pounded in my chest and my nerves felt like they were sparking anywhere his skin touched mine. I lost myself in the sensation of him.

Our kiss deepened. Our tongues met. He gripped my ass, and breathed heavily. I ran my hands up and down his thighs, overwhelmed with lust for his mind, body, and touch. “Fuck, I’m so turned on,” I whispered. I had felt my pussy getting wet since we started kissing.

He groaned and his strong, dextrous fingers found their way to my clit. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered softly. He rubbed me slowly, expertly, and when he moved his lips to nibble my earlobe all semblance of self control I had went out the window. It felt so fucking good. My knees nearly buckled, and I had to cling to his strong shoulders for support.

He guided me gently but firmly, as one would a dance partner, back onto the bed. Gently he removed my pajama bottoms while I frantically tore at my top. That delicious mouth of his lavished my nipples with expert attention, licking and sucking. My nipples are really sensitive, and I felt myself getting close to cumming already.

His head moved further down, and I was desperate for his face in between my legs. There was no hesitation. He pressed his face into my pussy like a man dying of thirst, lapping up my juices and gently flicking his tongue against my clit. I ran my hands through his graying hair. It was so hot to have a significantly older man give me pleasure. And he was so fucking talented at it, so good at reading my responses -- the slightest hitch in my breath or shifting of my hips gave him all he needed to know to maintain his rhythm or pulse his tongue harder or softer against my clit to make me feel even more incredible.

I felt my orgasm inexorably building up inside me as I watched him passionately devote himself to my pussy. His pace quickened -- “Oh shit… just like that… ahhh, Glen, you’re gonna make me come,” I managed to say. It was all so much -- his mouth licking and sucking on my clit, his strong arms wrapped around my legs as my back arched with arousal. Fuck, he felt so good, and I felt my head spinning and a ball of warmth inside me growing and growing, until finally I cried out “I'm coming!” and my world exploded in light and my whole body shook and my fingers pulled his face into my clit as I rode his face through waves of one of the most intense orgasms I've had.

Finally it subsided. I gasped for air and pulled his face up to mine. He looked pleased that his attentions had paid off, and he also looked about as awed and grateful as I felt. I was amazed that this man with whom I’d never been intimate before could so quickly make me feel comfortable enough and be skilled enough to get me off. “That was incredible.” I kissed him, enjoying the taste of myself on his lips. Then I said “My face is numb,” and we both laughed.

I hungered to touch him. Now it was my turn to enjoy his body and to return the favor.

To be continued….