The conference had already lasted for hours, and I had long since lost my interest, not least because papers became increasingly sloppy theoretically or unrevealing empirically. A telephone call provided the excuse to leave the conference hall and, while talking on the cell phone to my colleagues at headquarters, I was wandering aimlessly the hotel's corridors, all painted in yellow, with black-and-white photographs of sites to visit in and around Nice.
While still engulfed in a discussion on comments that I had earlier received on my presentation, some of which were actually pretty good, the door to hotel room 9452 opened just when I was about to walk by, and an elderly lady, who -- given her beautifully bronzed skin -- must have been for some time on holidays in this southern region of France, stepped out. She put a tray of dirty dishes and empty glasses on the floor in front of her room, wearing (nothing but) the unbelted white hotel bathrobe. When leaning forward, placing the wooden tray on the blue carpets that were covering the floors, she revealed a whole lot more than she might have intended. I smiled and winked at her, in appreciation of the little impromptu show. My first impression was that she was about 60-65, but she has aged well, partly because she seemed to have had the money to take good care of her body. She had grey, curly hair, and the battles of life were clearly visible on her face. I was intrigued, however, by a certain radiance and sensual energy that had been clearly shining through her matronly exterior. More tantalizing still were her green eyes, sparkling brighter than the darkly lit corridor allowed, and she looked at me intensely. For some reasons, she began to make me feel as insecure as I had been during my (early) years in college.
"Come on," she said, smiling invitingly, "you'll surely have half an hour."
Given the options, I certainly did, and I gratefully followed her invitation inside her hotel suite. It overlooked the sea, with the sun starting to show its warm, orange colours, throwing large shadows into the room. There was a terrace, onto which she stepped, throwing off her robe entirely. In the sun light, her body looked incredibly attractive, revealing all the feminine shapes that would have enticed Rubens to take out his canvass, brushes, and oil. There weren't any tan lines on her body, and it was clear she had done her sunbathing in the nude.
She turned around, opened her arms, tilted her head slightly, and asked, "Well?" She had trimmed her grey pubic hair, and the light colour contrasted wonderfully with her bronzed skin.
"My trousers shrunk," I responded, and she smirked a little, before forming a warm and welcoming smile.
"Take them off, then," she said, "take it all off." My problem with temptation has always been my difficulty in resisting it...
Given that I run regularly, I am in a pretty decent shape, and I do admit that I enjoyed the exhibitionist sensation of presenting my full erection to a woman clearly enjoying the sight. Only then I noticed that, while I had gotten out of my suit, she must have had gotten from somewhere, without my really noticing it, two glasses and a bottle of Bordeaux, a 2004 Château Bourgneuf Vayron, joyfully presenting one of glasses them to me.
"To us," she said, "to the present of the moment, and the Gods of Love and Pleasure."
