Out of the Closet

Out of the Closet

It took us three trips to hotels to find the right one. The most important thing we were looking for was a closet that looked out on the bed. In some rooms, the closet was too near the door. If you stood inside the closet, you could not see the whole bed.

Less important was that the hotel had a bar that attracted men. The ideal bar would have been a well-known pickup bar, but the hotel we chose was used mainly by traveling businessmen. By six o’clock, the bar was full of men taking a break between business meetings and dinner. Most of the men were alone, but a few two and threes looked like they had continued their business meetings in a more relaxed atmosphere.

Joan and I went to the bar separately. I went first, finding a small table in a corner that gave me a view of most of the bar. Fifteen minutes later she arrived. She walked in like she owned the place, wearing the sexiest outfit we’d been able to put together. The cream-colored, sheer top was thin enough that you could see the dark circles around her nipples. They stood erect under the loose material swayed as she walked. The skirt was mid-thigh. We’d considered a shorter, tighter one, but decided that the swish of the loose fabric left more to the imagination. She wasn’t wearing any nylons, because her perfect legs didn’t need any. Besides, she wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt. Because she was tall, we decided on open sandals with only the suggestion of straps. She carried a small black, soft-leather handbag.

Her clothing might have attracted attention in any room of filled mainly of men, but her face with its high cheekbones, flawless complexion, and emerald green eyes, surrounded by a mane of auburn hair were what all the men in the room were staring at. She walked up to where two stools were vacant at the bar and leaned against one while facing the room. She was facing toward me but didn’t look at me. Her eyes scanned those of the four men sitting at the two tables in front of me. Sure that she had their attention, she pushed herself up on the stool. As her bottom found the top, her legs opened up for a few seconds before she turned around to the bar. In those few seconds, the men at the tables in front of me must have seen what I had: the inside of her thighs, her shaved mound, and the dark slit.

The blond-haired man at the table near me was the first one to recover from the glimpse up her skirt. He went to the bar and stood sideways between her and the empty seat.

“Can I buy you a drink,” he said.

She turned to meet his eyes and delivered that sexy smile that always made me hard. “Sure.”

She ordered a glass of white wine while Tall Blond took the seat and ordered a draft.

“I’m Harry,” she said.

“Really? You’ve probably heard all the harry jokes,” she said.

“Most of them,” he said, smiling.

Even though Harry had beat the other men to the empty seat, they continued to watch the two at the bar. A few of the men looked like there were ready to take Harry’s place if he should make the smallest error. They needn’t have concerned themselves. Within a few minutes, Harry had his arm around Joan, pulling her to him.

With my excellent view, I saw her run her hand along his leg. He immediately responded by running his hand along her leg. When she shimmied a little, he got bolder and reached under her dress. When he rubbed up her leg, the skirt lifted and the observers were treated to her bare leg and bottom.