I was on a business trip with a colleague, Catherine. We are both accountants, and were working on an audit of a client’s year-end financials. During the day, we worked at the client’s offices. At night, we worked at the hotel. We had adjacent rooms which had an interior passageway that would allow the two rooms to be open to each other, if two doors were opened. But there was a doorknob only on one side of each door; if the door was closed, it couldn’t be opened from the opposite side. The occupants of each room had to open their doors at the same time.
We were in and out of each other’s rooms a lot. Of course, if the other person’s interior door was closed, that meant the person wanted privacy. And we respected it.
Catherine is an attractive woman, late twenties, recently divorced. Long brunette hair, sparkling blue eyes, full breasts and a curvaceous figure. But I was happily married and our company has very strict rules on inappropriate behavior. I would never cross the line to flirtation. Too dangerous in this day. Although that didn’t stop me from realizing how attractive she was.
That fateful day, we’d had an early dinner together, and talked that maybe we’d work on the project later. But we ordered a bottle of wine at dinner, and the full meal and the wine had us both sluggish. So we left it vague whether we’d work later on. Maybe after a nap.
I watched the 7 o’clock news and a quiz show. Then I decided to retrieve a document that Catherine had in her room. I’d work on it myself. It was 8 pm. I opened my side of the twin doors. I wasn’t sure if her door was meant to be closed or not. It wasn’t open, but neither was it latched. I pushed it and it swung open. I entered.
“Hi; hope you’re decent,” I said in a cheerful voice, assuming of course that at 8 pm she’d be sitting at her table, reading or maybe listening to music on her headphones. She was not. She was stretched out on the bed, with her pants and panties down around her knees, her hand rubbing her vulva, probing into the vagina. Masturbating. I gasped. She gasped.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Excuse me,”, I stammered and retreated back to my room, closing the door.
I had seen a look of horror on her face, but I was terrified too. I should have knocked, of course, not burst into a woman’s hotel room. I saw my professional life ending with a claim of sexual harassment. I sat on my bed, not having a clue what to do. How do you un-ring a bell?
After a few minutes, there was a knock from the other side of my door. I opened it and Catherine came in. Dressed of course.
“Catherine, I am so sorry. The door wasn’t locked so I assumed…”
“It was my fault. I thought I had closed the door but obviously I did not,” she said.
She was sheepish, and mostly did not look me in the eye. She spoke.
“I’m sorry you saw that. But I’m divorced, and not ready to date again, so I get unfulfilled cravings…” Her voice tailed off.
“I understand completely. It’s normal, everyone does it. Guys more than girls, for sure. Let’s pretend that this never happened. It’s already forgotten.”
“But it did happen. And I doubt you’ll forget it. I need some guarantee from you that you’ll never, ever speak of this to anyone. Ever. I would die of embarrassment”
“Of course, you have my word,” I offered.
“You’re a decent man. But I need more than your word.”
I looked at her not understanding. What more guarantee could I give?
“I need you to have as much to lose as I do.”
I still did not understand.
“You and I need to have sex. I know your wife; if she ever found out, she’d leave you. That way, we’d have to keep each other’s secret.”
“What?” I was in a daze. This was crazy. I said so.
“Catherine, this is insane. I can’t do that. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Yes I am. I see how you look at me. I know you’re attracted to me. And I can’t continue to work with you knowing that you have this knowledge always hanging over me. This is the only way.”
I stood there, with my mouth open. There was a logic to her argument. It was mutually assured destruction. We would be locked into a compact of silence.
“Well, let’s get to it,” she said.
She moved to me and began to unbutton my shirt.
“Wait, wait. I have to think,” I protested, backing off.
My movement backwards caused me to hit the side of the bed, and I fell across the width of it. Catherine continued toward me, now loosening my trousers.
“No, Catherine, wait.”
“You’re a grown man; you don’t have to act like a child about this. I’m not ugly. Most guys would be thrilled,” she said.
“Yes,” I stammered, “I know you’re not ugly. But I’ve never done anything like this before.”
I quickly realized what a ridiculous statement this was, and we both looked at each other and laughed. That broke the tension.
“Well,” she said, “I haven’t done anything like this since I got divorced. But I think we’ll both remember how it’s done.”
“Are you sure this is the only way?” I weakly protested.
She smiled and continued to remove my clothes.
I stopped resisting. I gave in to my fate – and a lovely fate it promised to be. She pulled off my shoes and my trousers. My penis began to rise and tented in my shorts.
“I see that you’re a full participant now,” she said, with a smile.
Yes, I was. I pulled off my shirt. I reached up and began to unbutton her blouse. She wore a pushup bra that made her breasts prominent. I unbuttoned her pants and she unfastened her bra. The blouse and the bra fell to the floor. Her lovely breasts sprang out. She grabbed the back of my head and pulled it into her breasts. My tongue began to lick at her nipple. I reached and pulled down her pants. She stepped out of them, and was now just in her panties.
She began to stroke my erect penis, and massage the testicles though the underwear. I lay back with a Cheshire cat grin. She pulled off my shorts. Then her panties. We were naked.
She crawled onto the bed with me. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her buttocks into my midsection. We rolled together, she kissing me, I rubbing her back, her shoulders, around to her breasts.
My penis was at full erection and I flipped her onto her back. I rubbed her vulva, as I had seen her do. With my finger, I massaged inside her, exciting the clitoris. When she was well aroused and moaning, I pulled her to me. I pressed against her, and her vagina gave in to my thrusting. I pressed in, out, in, out, until I exploded inside her. I lay limp against her. She petted my head, my neck.
“Well,” she said, “considering that this was the first time, that was actually pretty good.”
Then she gathered up her clothes and returned to her room. I lay on my bed, still processing what had happened. And what to do next. I said I’d never flirt with a coworker, for fear of the consequences. But this was different. I couldn’t possibly be accused of sexual harassment because of this relationship. If anything, I was the victim. Not complaining, mind you.
But what would I say the next time we met? Do I acknowledge what happened or say nothing? Were we lovers now? Did I want to be her lover? (That was easy to figure out; I trembled over the thrill of her conquest of me. I love my wife but this was sexual excitement like I hadn’t experienced in years.) Would she want me as a lover, or was this just an act based on mutual assured destruction?
I heard the sound of running water from her room. She must be showering. Then the water stopped. She must be drying, must be putting on her pajamas. Did she wear pajamas? Or did she sleep in the nude? I was working myself into a fevered state. Maybe I was that 16 year old boy she joked about.
There was a knock on my door. I went and let Catherine in. She was wearing a robe.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked.
I almost fainted with relief. She and I were okay.
“Sure,” I said, trying my best to be nonchalant.
We settled into chairs and I put the TV on. We sipped at drinks that I made.
She brought the subject up.
“So where do we go from here””
“You know I’m married.” I didn’t need to remind her, but I wasn’t ready to say ‘I want you madly.’
“Yes. I know. Recall that was why we did this in the first place.”
“Yes, yes”, I replied. “I just meant that I, I just want …” And I stopped. I didn’t know how to say I wanted to ravish her but without strings. Just lust for lust’s sake.
“And you know I’m divorced,” she said. “I need to get back dating. If I ever needed proof that I don’t want to be alone, that I want a man, tonight showed that. It was great tonight.”
“Yes, it was,” I readily agreed.
“I don’t want to be the ‘other woman.’ I’m not interested in breaking up a happy marriage. So this week will be it, I’m afraid.”
This week? What was she saying?
She spoke. “We’ll be here another 2 days. After that, we’ll go back to being coworkers. But for 2 more days, I want to taste you, absorb you, be made love to by you. Can we do that?”
I didn’t answer. I just leaped toward her, pulling the robe away from her body. She did not have pajamas underneath. We rolled onto the floor. My few clothes came off with the same speed as before. I pulled her naked body toward mine. She kissed my neck, and explored my body with her hands. I cupped her breasts, sucking on then nipples. We made love the rest of the night, pausing only to recover and then start again.
We stayed at the hotel two more days, finishing the audit. She never had any more of those troublesome unfulfilled cravings. I made sure of that. And then we returned to be just coworkers. Polite with each other, keeping our delightful secret hidden.
I keep wishing we’ll have another business trip together. No guarantees what would happen, but a guy can hope, can’t he?