After just having landed at the Nashville airport, the road is busy exiting the airport and heading into the downtown area.
My friend and co-worker, Kelly, sits beside me and is scrolling through social media on her phone while we share a Lyft into town.
We’re both excited about the trip. At home we’re pharmaceutical representatives and we’ve just flown into town for a sales and marketing conference our company is sponsoring. Last year Kelly wasn’t part of the team and I traveled to a similar conference in Chicago with a much older, and much more boring, travel mate. That trip had been cold, rainy, and wrought with travel delays. I was looking forward to a much more exciting week this year.
Truth be told, I have alternative ambitions. Kelly and I have been friends for roughly a year; very good friends. She’s fun, she’s energetic, she’s always willing to try new things, and she does it with an optimistic flare that I’d admire. But more than that, she’s extremely sexy.
Guys of all ages love Kelly. Maybe for her thin face and soft features, with the exception of her sharp jaw line, or maybe for her short but feminine bobby-style haircut, or maybe for the way her athletic body fills a pair of jeans. I find her all around sexy and have long pondered something more than friendship.
I have no idea if she feels the same. I’ve looked for clues. I’ve hinted. I’ve hoped.
I myself haven’t been with a woman since my late teen years in college, and even then, only a couple times. In my sophomore year, I met my husband to be and we had our first child just a few short years later. It’s our only child and he turned five-years-old as recently as a couple weeks ago. I’m rarely away from my family alone.
My husband and I have a great relationship together and a healthy sex life. He doesn’t know I still have interest in women, but then again, I’m not sure if he would mind. We’ve talked about my college partying days and he’s never been judge mental. He’s even joked that if it ever happens again, make sure I take photos. It’s a non-serious consideration and something I do think about, but something I’ve dismissed as unrealistic.
Then I learned of this trip and that Kelly would be accompanying me. That’s when I really started to get excited. I plan to do everything possible this week to present the opportunity for something to happen between us. I’m nervous because this expectation has been building for weeks and I’m nervous I might fly home disappointed. I’m determined to not let that happen, but doubt is still on my mind.
I’ve already experienced one failure. I planted the suggestion with our supervisor that we might save money by sharing a hotel room, but he took it as cheapening the trip and said the company could spring for the extra expense because we had earned it. Damn my luck. Where was that sentiment during Christmas? The company came up awfully cheap this past season for sure.
As we travel to our hotel, I take the opportunity to call my husband to check-in and let him know I’ve arrived safely. We’ve been over the schedule for the week, but I run through the instructions he needs to get our son off to school and to take care of things on the home front. Not being away by myself very often, securing this peace-of-mind is important for me to relax a bit.
We arrive at our hotel a short time later. It’s a brand new JW Marriott and I’m ecstatic at the look of our hotel as we pull into the valet circle and get out of the Lyft. It’s a huge glass building that shoots up into the skyline.
“Wow, this place is beautiful,” Kelly says. “I can’t wait to see our rooms.”
I agree, the hotel is gorgeous. Marriott hotels are the company standard when traveling, but this one looks to be at the top of the curve.
We have no problems checking-in and I’m excited to learn we’ll have adjoining rooms. We won’t be rooming together, but it’s a small concession.
We complete our check-in and head to the elevator; we’re on floor eleven.
Our rooms are mirror images of each other and we immediately open the adjoining doors so we can share the space. Each of us has a single queen bed, a spacious bath with a glass shower, and a wall of windows overlooking the city.
Our view is amazing, and we’re pumped to explore the live music offerings of downtown later this evening and ahead of our first meetings tomorrow. Our week is off to a fabulous start.
Kelly is a workout fiend and she instantly suggests we hit the fitness center so we don’t feel guilty about eating and drinking on the road. I’m a little less enthusiastic about working-out, but I agree with her logic.
We in her room and she thinks nothing of undressing and getting into her work-out attire while I sit on her sofa. My stomach drops. I’ve never seen Kelly topless, and I do my best to pretend I’m unfazed.
Kelly is about a year younger than I am, but she hasn’t had children and she takes exceptional care of her body. Anyone can tell from her slender build that her breasts are smaller than someone like myself, but they fit her toned form so well. I myself am thin, and I use my own assets to my advantage in the pharmaceutical industry when selling product to male physicians, but I feel bloated in her presence.
Though she walks around the room a bit, I’m disappointed in how quickly she slips into a sports bra.
“Let me get dressed too,” I say, more enthusiastic than I actually feel.
A short time later we’re in the fitness area working-out hard. It’s not long before my cloths are drenched in sweat, but I love the feeling of pushing myself once I get started. I stick with a cardio workout while Kelly does an amazing lower body workout full of lunges, squats, jumps and stretches. After twenty-five minutes of this insanity, she rolls onto the floor and collapses with her arms out.
“I’m so glad we’re sitting all-day tomorrow,” she says. “Cause that’s going to hurt.”
“What about tonight? I thought we were going out?”
“I’ll be fine tonight, it takes overnight before I become sore and it won’t be that bad. I’m kinda used to it anyway.”
When we return to our rooms, I start to unpack before getting ready to go out for dinner. A few minutes later I realize I forgot to pack a razor, so I go next door to Kelly’s room to see if she might have brought an extra. I quickly realize she’s already jumped in the shower. Her workout tights and underwear have been dropped casually by the closed bathroom door.
I stare at her shorts and panties crumpled on the carpet. The shorts are black and spandex-like, and her underwear are lace and nearly identical in color. Unsurprisingly, her underwear look like they’re thong.
I start to turn away, but then I stop. I can clearly hear the shower water and the occasional non-rhythmic sound of splashing as Kelly bathes. It’s going to be a few minutes until she is out.
Instead of leaving, I squat down over Kelly’s discarded workout shorts and slowly reach down to pick them up.
They are very damp to the touch. I rub the cotton material between my thumb and index finger, and then lift my fingers to my nose. My fingers have a musty scent from the touch. My heart races nervously. I lift the silky cloth to my face and the scent is stronger.
Kelly’s phone rings loudly from just outside the bathroom. Oh shit, I think. I quickly replace her underwear and shorts to the same position they were seconds before, and I rush out of the room. Minutes later as I take my own shower I have instant regret. Even though I ultimately wasn’t caught, the invasive betrayal of trust and the line I’ve just crossed weighs on me.
This is unhealthy, I think to myself as water and steam cascade around me. Tears roll down my cheeks, I sniff, and I wipe my eyes with my fingers. I’m an emotional wreck. I feel the guilt in my chest; it’s heavy, so heavy. My hands tremble with exhausting emotion.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and try to gather myself. Involuntarily, my thoughts return to the clandestine touching of Kelly’s soiled clothing and the fresh memory of her most intimate scent. I try to get past my thoughts, but they’re all consuming. I’m angry and ashamed of myself of my weakness, and I feel self-pressure to put these thoughts behind me.
I put my hand over my eyes and shrink to my knees. I allow myself to fall forward, the back of my hand and my forehead resting against the porcelain lining of the tub. My long hair falls around my face, head, and shoulders like a soaking wet mop, and the shower water beats against my back. As I fight back tears, I reach my other hand down between my legs and rub myself vigorously until I climax.
*******
After my shower I feel much better, emotionally and physically. I take my time blow drying my hair, putting on make-up, and getting dressed. I think about how foolish I am and how unrealistic I had been about the week.
I call my husband. His voice, the voice of normalcy, is a safe harbor for my current feelings. He tells me about how the day has gone and it eases my mind. I tell him about my day of travel and how excited I am about the conference tomorrow. This is my life, this is the stability I need, and this is the world in which I belong. I roll my eyes at the thought of chasing my fantasies any further.
Once off the phone, I went in search of Kelly. The door between our rooms was ajar and I knocked as I entered.
“Hey there,” she said looking up from an eReader while propped up in her bed. She was fully dressed and looked ready to go. She looked none the wiser on what had transpired in the past hour or so. I hadn’t expected otherwise, but it was reassuring none-the-less. “You ready to go?”
“Yea,” I said with a smile. “I’m starving. Let’s go see what we can find in this town. I assume they have a restaurant or two.”
“At least a McDonald’s,” Kelly replied with a laugh.
“I certainly did not fly here to go to McDonald’s,” I said with a questioning glare. “I anticipated trying a lot of things this week, but a Big Mac was not one.”
Kelly slipped on some shoes, we made sure we had our keys, and we headed out.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/amn7w6/published_writer_who_has_dabbled_in_erotica_in