I used the magnetic key card to open the door and stepped into the room. A blast of cold air assaulted me; the housekeeping staff had left the air conditioning on. I was tired; exhaustion sank into my bones as I lugged my bag into the room and closed the door behind me. It had been a long, long day.
I was in town for a big work event, and I had been traveling all day. The event didn't start until tomorrow, so I stowed my suitcase in a corner, laid on top of the bed, hugging a pillow for comfort, and slept deeply for a few hours. I woke up to find the sun had gone down and dusk was descending. I felt a little better; I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands.
Then something occurred to me. I remembered that I was once again in the same city as Tom. I hadn't seen him in over three years. We'd had a secret and very torrid affair -- he was married at the time -- and after a few months of crazy forbidden sex and an intense emotional affair, he left me to go back to his wife. I was devastated; he shattered my heart, and I had to move to a different city in order to get on with my life. But even then Tom never left my heart or thoughts.
Here I was now, back in my hometown, and I was horny. Tom was the one person who could scratch my itch. I decided to give it a shot.
I spent a few moments trying to dredge his cell phone number up from the doldrums of my memory. At last I was pretty sure I had the right number, and I composed a text message using pet names we had used for our respective anatomy:
"Ozzie - Harriet needs you. Rainbow Motel, Rm 112."
I pressed the Send button and said a little prayer. And then I got to waiting.
I took a shower, washing off the airplane staleness and carefully cleaning my nether region with scented body wash. I dug a U2 T-shirt and a pair of black lace panties out of my bag and put them on, combed my wet hair back off my face, and sat on the bed. I was already a little turned on from the anticipation; I felt my pussy lips start to tingle and swell. I resisted the urge to touch them. I wanted to save myself in case Tom decided to show.
It was two hours of restlessly flipping through the staticky channels on the old TV before I heard a soft knock at the door. My heart dove into my stomach, and I jumped up off the bed. I tiptoed to the door and pressed my face against it, looking out the peephole.
It was like walleye vision. Tom's face was distorted, but unmistakable. He was nervously looking around, as if he expected someone (his wife, probably) to catch him red-handed. I stood back and let him sweat for a few more seconds, then took a deep breath and opened the door.