:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-: :- ORPHAN ANNIE STRIKES AGAIN! -: :-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-: Erik gave me the robe. It was lightweight and cool, just what was needed when the nights never really cool down. I noticed that when I pulled it snug it showed off my nipples, but I really think Erik liked it because when it gaped, it gave him just that little bit of cleavage that men find so much more exciting. I liked it, though, because it smelled of Erik, who much to my pleasure was turning out to be a regular. Since I would be away for almost a week, I took the robe just to remind me of him. I was running this convention--well, part of it--and hotel living is supposed to be a bit more modest than tromping around the house with nothing on. Not, mind you, that I expected to have any real time to socialize, since it was going to be a series of 18-hour days. Well, there WAS going to be this ONE dance, the second night. I at least would have enough time--if I wasn't already exhausted from two days of work AND a day of preparation--to try out the floor. The band was going to be halfway decent, so this one respite was coveted just a little. Have you ever noticed how when you're content with things on the home front is when you get some REALLY interesting attention? I know men complain about it, saying that just when they're relaxed with one woman is when they really get hit on, and I know there's something to that, because when they're self-assured (or maybe just assured of pussy?) they're just that much more attractive (there's this other theory, which says that since they're involved elsewhere it's safe to fool around with them; maybe that's true, too). Well, I was pretty comfortable with Erik, seriously had no plans to fool around (not out of commitment, out of contentment), and I was attracting an unusual amount of attention. This older guy, not fat and horny like the stereotyped out-of-town salesman, but trim, gray, cultivated, and probably about 50, didn't say much but kept his presence known. He was just frequently around, and more than once I caught him just looking at me ... not STARING like the psychotics, just an appreciative glance. None of my coworkers knew him, and he wasn't ALWAYS around, so I just put it down as nothing unusual. I had his nametag checked out ("L.K. Kendricks"), and he was a rep from some obscure manufactory back in the Ohio Valley, certainly no one I'd know. And certainly no one I'd go out of my way to meet. I did go to the dance. Some of my coworkers had to drag me away from reworking (admittedly, for the THIRD time) the preparations for the next day's activities, but I did go. I thought I'd have a couple of drinks and chat it up with them. Some had their husbands, and one or two had found someone at the convention. What ended up is that we got a table near the rear (like I said, it took a while to get me out, so we were late) and before I knew it I was abandoned there. The girls talked for only a few minutes, then dragging their guys out onto the floor they had left me nursing a scotch. I was a little tired and the scotch only accentuated it; before long I was thinking about things long ago and far away. The reverie was interrupted by this rich, tenor "Good evening." It was old LK, "Lawrence Knight" it turns out to be, another Erik. Deja vu I was not prepared to deal with tonight, but I couldn't just give a cold brush off to a kindly introduction. I got permission to call him "LK"--he winced when he said OK, but I couldn't stand the idea of "Erik II." He wasn't merely a sales rep; he was in engineering and there was some new process here he was checking out; he had done his job, in fact, and was leaving next noon though our "show" had another three days to run. He was efficient and professional. More importantly, though, he was generous, getting me to talk and, soon, even laugh. I switched from scotch to Calistoga and before long we, too, were on the dance floor. LK was a good dancer but didn't make me feel like the klutz I know I am. When we were dancing apart he'd flash this smile that was becoming quite charming, and when we were dancing close he kept me smiling with a few bon mots. I was soon laughing as he'd point out someone on the floor and give a complete description, based entirely on their appearance, as to where they lived, what they were here for (professionally AND otherwise), and what they were like at home. It was hilarious: he'd start talking about another person, then spin me around so I could see over his shoulder while from memory alone he spun this incredible web of fact and fantasy that fit like a wet T- shirt. And he moved so gracefully, I could feel through his jacket he was fit without being rough; he was certainly easy going enough. When we took a break I got these sly, "I told you so" glances from my friends. What could I say, they had me! When I explained it to LK, he sort of smiled, and said he'd come to the dance just to see if he could meet me, and I did feel flattered. When we were back on the floor, I told him I had to be back reviewing preparations early the next morning. It wasn't late, but I was really enjoying this and I'd let it GET late if I didn't extract soon. LK sort of frowned, but let it go at that. He said he could tell I was tense and tired, more relaxed than an hour ago, but still tense and tired. Well, thanks a lot, guy (but it was all true)! He'd say goodnight, then. By the way, though, would I have a break tomorrow morning and could I come by his room before he left? 1402? Well, I'd see. With a small kiss on his cheek I grabbed my purse and left. But back in the room the bed (a HUGE king size number--god, what was the hotel expecting, a menage a quatre?) looked particularly lonely. Sure, Erik would have been great, but Erik was not here and Erik was--well, not permanent. Maybe, though, his robe would make me feel better--no, in fact the smell just made it worse. Calistoga or not, two scotches (were they doubles?) had gone to my head and I was alone, lonely, and getting horny (it had, after all, been three days!). I rang 1402, then hung up when LK answered; he was there. And he was leaving tomorrow; this, too, would not be permanent. I put on the robe and not much else, put in a diaphragm, and went for a massage. I figured there had to be a great masseuse in 1402. When he answered the door LK was still dressed, though out of his jacket. He'd been sorting through his briefcase, and I could see that my arrival was an unexpected brightener for his evening. As I asked if the masseuse was still in I saw his eyes glance down to my chest and it didn't take long to get an affirmative answer. First, though, he showed me around--probably just to convince me there was no one else there, and that there had been no one else. Not that I cared, for he'd made his availability very clear. I handed him a bottle of baby oil (all I could find--I really hadn't been expecting a need for the scented stuff). Erik--no, LK--took me to the bed and helped me out of the robe. He didn't grab for my tits right away, a little touch of class there, and had me lie on my stomach. He sat beside me and slowly opened the bottle as he talked about how my work reflected my self-confidence and how he really disliked mousey women. Then he stopped, rolling up his sleeves as sort of an afterthought; it took me a moment to realize the pause was just him caring for his clothes. He began to rub the baby oil over my back while talking about how good my back looked. The man was class all the way--he dressed well, he talked well, he kept after himself, and he made me feel really appreciated. Just what the doctor ordered. He finished my back (a few tough spots he worked out so gently I hardly knew they'd ever been there!) and started down my arms, stretched out over my head. I opened my eyes and saw him really throwing his body into it. A little music? Sure, and he found a soft jazz station. When he came back I lifted my arm up and rolled over just enough to pull off his bow tie (NOT a clip-on job!) and undo the studs on his tux shirt. Then I just fell back onto the bed and let him finish my arms. I told him my butt was special--I'm really aroused by contact there and I wanted him to take some care. As I helped him slip the panties off, he said not to worry. The man was at once gentle and generous with his attention. By the time he'd finished and started down my thighs I was really squirming. I wouldn't even let him finish my calves, I was really ready for him. I rolled over and reached up to his shirt, pulling it quickly off. I sat up and reached for his trousers, startling him with my speed. He slid his shoes off as I undid the fasteners and with the suspenders down they just dropped to the floor. I laughed when I saw the polka-dot boxers, but everybody's got a quirk, somewhere! When he figured out what was so funny he joined in; at least I'd had the smarts not to laugh and point! He climbed on the bed and we took each other in our arms. First a tentative kiss and then a longer, deeper, exploratory one. I put my leg over his, and felt the hair on his leg awaken every nerve on the inside of my thigh. His hands moved from my back to my side to my boobs, and then his mouth went from my lips to my throat to my nipples. I lay back and felt this almost primal suction bring me to full alertness. His lips and tongue worked my nipples, and his hands worked my breasts. My mouth was open and I was gasping, already. Then, soon, too soon (don't stop!) he was continuing down. His tongue explored my navel and that made my legs start sliding up and down on the bed. His hand came up between my legs and cupped my mound, gently, then squeezing firmly, and then a finger started exploring. His mouth was kissing my entire abdomen and soon his middle finger was sliding up deep inside me. He brought his mouth down and his tongue played my clit for a while, then replaced his finger. God, such a tongue! I had to return the favor. I pulled him up and then rolled him over onto his back. I slid one hand underneath his waistband and found what I'd been looking for and then with the other just pulled the waistband down. It was gorgeous--erect, waving in the air, all pink and throbbing. I kissed the tip, then the shaft. I licked the shaft and massaged the tip. It was getting wet on its own and I had my first taste of this man's love juices, something I always find hard to resist. I took him into my mouth and started sucking and massaging, my lips running up and down his length as I took him all the way back in my throat. My head was bobbing up and down, my breasts were brushing his thighs, one hand had his balls and the other was rubbing his chest. It was a one-man band and he was making great music! He had me stop and I couldn't figure why--I was really getting going. Then I understood, as he turned around and put his head between my legs. Again, this fantastic tongue worked all over my mound, inside and out. I had him almost swallowed and was feeling great. We must have gone on that way for twenty or thirty minutes, and I remember coming at least three times. But he stayed with me--I'd never had a guy stay up after so much stimulation. Is this what you get with older men? His attention to me told me he was still part of my team, so I guess this was just a virtue of experience. But after three orgasms I really wanted him inside and we'd find out just what he was really made of. I let go and turned around--now both of us had our feet at the head of the bed. I took him in the traditional method, as his weight felt right on me and he'd probably be able to pump just that much better. I was right, for he slid right in and began a rhythm that had me coming again and again almost immediately. Soon, his face screwed up and his breathing changed and suddenly he was spurting these fabulous warm gobs all the way up through me. I was writhing and must then have passed out, between the pleasure and the scotch. I've NEVER done that before! I wasn't out long, because the next thing I knew he was slowly pulling out. Ohhhhhhhhhh. His smile was right next to mine and with a last kiss I just rolled into him and went to sleep. I vaguely remember him turning me around on the bed and his pulling the covers up and over us, and I clearly remember getting my leg and arm over him, but until he woke me gently at 6:00 (god, I could have slept till 9:00, and missed everything! what a wonderful guy) I don't remember a thing. We had a little quickie and then I stumbled off to my room. God, I could hardly walk! First Erik I and now Erik II. There has to be something in that name! à> .