I was sitting in the pool area sipping on a bottle of water at one of the thousands of hotels in central Florida. I believe this one was a Hilton. The text I was waiting for arrived.
It read, "Light blue shirt, 40ish, thinning blonde hair headed out now, left front pocket"
I glanced toward the door of the hotel just as a man fitting that description came through. I watched him long enough to pick up which direction he was headed and stood. I made my way around the other end of the pool and chose a new lounge chair to sit in, one that would be directly in my target's line of sight.
As he sat in a chair a few yards away from me and began getting settled in I raised one of my knees and began to gently and slowly drip suntan oil on my leg. I kept my face straight ahead toward my legs but was watching him intently with my peripheral vision. I'm 26 and take extremely good care of my body. I was a cheerleader in high school and college and keep in shape now out of habit. I run and work out practically every morning. I'm blonde and tan and can stand out when I want to. There are women who look like me all over Florida so I can also blend in when I so choose.
I have to blend in a lot. I go to a different hotel almost every day and want to be in the pool area but never actually get a room. Luckily ladies who look like me and are wearing swimsuits and a beach coverup and carrying a beach towel are rarely if ever questioned when heading to the pool. On the few occasions it does come up I come up with a story about meeting some friends. Sometimes I still get let in; other times I'm told I must wait for my friends. When I'm told I have to wait, I hang around a bit and then slip out. Once I've been noticed like that I believe it's best to move on. To do what I do successfully, one really shouldn't be noticed at this point. As I said, it very rarely happens.
Now was the time to stand out though. The coverup has been taken off and I'm on the lounge in a tasteful but revealing bikini. The oil on my legs and now arms has created a sleek, sexy look. And, boom, there it is. He has finally noticed me. I don't look at him yet. He needs more of a show. I slowly go up and down my arms with the oil again, then my legs. He glanced around a bit when I was on my arms, but he didn't move while my attention was on my legs.
"Got it," I think to myself, "a leg man."
Legs can really be the best tool in a seduction. It can be very difficult to use one's tits without being obvious, but legs can be pretty much always on display and can be used seductively without being obvious.
He was watching me intently for long enough that I knew I had him. I was clearly out of his league, and he knew it. I was a fantasy for him. Guys like him didn't get shots at girls who looked like me. He probably wouldn't even have had a shot a dozen or so years ago when he was in his twenties.
After I finished oiling both legs I flipped suddenly to my side and locked my eyes into his. It happened too quickly for him to look away, and I saw panic about to set in, and his face began to turn red.
I gave a mischievous smile, stood, picked up my Keds, coverup, and towel and walked toward him.
Although the temperature was in the eighties I don't believe he'd been sweating until now.
I took the lounge next to him, setting my items between our lounges, and said, "Hello there."
"Uh, hi," he stammered.
"Are you alone?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered suspiciously. "Why?"
"No reason, sweetie," I smiled, "I just wonder if your wife would like you to be staring at me like that."
"I wasn't staring, and how do you know I'm married." He replied.
Still smiling, I leaned closer to him and whispered for effect, "You were, honey, and you're wearing a wedding ring."
I laughed a sweet little laugh as he looked at his ring as though he was horrified.
I kept talking. "It's ok; it'll be our secret."
He actually looked at me relieved as though he was grateful.
"So where is the little Mrs.?" I inquired.
"She's at home in Cincinnati; I'm here for an accounting conference," was his reply.
I leaned back in my lounge and poured a bit of tanning oil on my chest and said, "Too bad for both of you. You should have brought her. She probably would have enjoyed it and you could have watched her do this.'
I was using my fingertips to oil my chest, as he desperately and rather unsuccessfully, tried to maintain eye contact.
"It's not the same when you're married," he muttered.
"What honey?" I asked even though I heard clearly.
"Um, I asked if you were married," he replied trying to recover quickly.
"I was, I'm celebrating my divorce actually; I'm just down from Atlanta trying to have fun." I casually answered. All lies of course.
Then I locked his eyes again, "You know, the 'no strings attached' kind of fun," I stated.
He paused as what I said sunk in and cautiously answered, "Sure, I guess."
I turned onto my stomach and held the tanning oil out toward him, "You can do my back," I said with a smile as I raised my eyebrows.
I learned this a while ago. Asking a guy to do this, particularly a married one, occasionally will be met with an objection or at least a question or two. By using the assumptive statement, especially with a little flirting, as though he's getting away with something, I have never had any problems.
He poured some oil on my back and began to timidly rub. I reached my hand around and unhooked my top, letting it fall to the side. I could feel his hands pause, but I didn't say anything, and soon enough they were back in motion.
An often overlooked step in the art of seduction is knowing when to stay quiet and still and simply let nature take its course.
He kept his hands on the middle of my back, as they all do, so I encouraged him along a little. "Please don't miss the sides, sweetie, and my lower back."
"But," he began.
I cut him off, "It's fine, I promise; you're not doing anything I haven't felt before."
He began making bigger circles and added more oil.
"Mmmmm," I uttered, "You're making this feel soooo good."
He looked at my face and I playfully bit my lip as though I was really turned on.
