I'm in a sex-less marriage. After twenty five years with my wife we had devolved into a partnership based on income and security. What little libido she had left was pretty much wiped out with the onset of menopause and I've become a lonely man. All my attempts at affection, let alone sex, are met with a cold shoulder and talking about it usually leads to defensiveness or total disregard.
I have never cheated on my wife nor have I really even considered it, until now. I was on my way to Las Vegas for my annual trade show to view the latest and greatest in my industry. And if the opportunity presented itself, I was going to sow some oats that had been fallow for some time.
The trade show presented as usual with lots of booths hawking their wares, guest speakers and cocktail parties. I knew a lot of the players in my field and pressed the flesh throughout the first day and night, meeting up with lots of associates. By the second day I'd grown weary of the small talk and walked the strip looking for something better to do. I strolled a few casinos, gambled a few hands and listened to a cover band before retiring to the bar at the Mandalay Bay.
I sat alone at the bar, feeling pathetic for an hour or so as I milked a couple beers, watching Monday Night Football. I wasn't too interested in the game so when a young lady took up the stool next to me, asking if the seat was empty, I smiled, motioning with my hand for her to sit. "Who's winning?" she asked.
"The Steelers are up a touchdown," I replied. "At least the last I noticed."
"Not your team then, I guess, huh?"
"Neither. I'm more of a Dolphins fan."
"No kidding," she said, her eyebrows raised. "Me too. Miami born and bred." She stuck out her hand. "Carley."
I took her hand, shaking it loosely. "Bill." She was cute, probably half my 48 years, 30 tops. Her dirty blonde hair rested in loose curls at her shoulders, parted in the middle. She wore light makeup, mostly on her eyes and an earth-tone lipstick that made her full lips shine. Her blouse was unbuttoned enough to reveal modest cleavage and the top of a black laced bra. She was sexy but understated compared to a lot of what I'd seen wandering the casinos.
"Nice to meet you Bill. So are you from Florida then?"
"No, Atlanta actually but I lived there for a while as a kid."
"Hot-Lanta. Nice town."
She spoke with a slightly hoarse, low voice, a Demi Moore-like pitch. I sipped my beer, glanced at the TV then asked, "So what brings you to Vegas?"
"Trade show," she answered. "I'm sort of the advance of the advance team."
"Meaning?"
"I'm with a marketing firm that helps clients set up their trade booths and that sort of thing. But I came out early for a little personal R&R before all that gets started."
"Sounds nice."
"And how about you, Bill. What's your story."
"Trade show, of course."
The bartender walked over and asked for re-orders. I ordered up a margarita and asked, "How 'bout your Carley."
"That sounds great, make that two," she replied.
When the drinks arrived Carley raised her glass and offered, "To trade shows."
"To trade shows."
I bored Carley with my background in municipal pool filtration systems for all of two minutes before we transitioned to talk of her job, her travels and fitness. She was a triathlete and would be back in Vegas in a few months to do a half Ironman. We bonded over this as I too had experience competing in triathlons up and down the East coast. Her racing had taken her to Mexico, Brazil and Japan, which certainly bested my domestic races. Eventually, the elephant in the room raised it's head and Carley asked, "So how long have you been married?" As she asked, her attention focused down to my hand and wedding band.
"Yeah that." I spent the next margarita spilling more of my personal feelings than I ever had. She was easy to talk to and a good listener. Probably more than she wanted to hear but she was a good sport and it felt oddly refreshing.
Several margaritas later, a band started playing and people started to fill the dance floor. I wasn't much of a dancer but when Carley asked if I was interested, I couldn't say no. The booze loosened me up a bit and I followed along as she swayed sensuously with the music, her arms raised above her head. We stayed out on the floor for several songs until a slow song started up and Carley approached. She place her hands on my shoulders and drew me closer, looking into my eyes. As our bodies closed and I felt her breasts on my chest, her eyes closed and she rested her head on my shoulder. The scent of her hair filled my nose, a clean floral fragrance possibly mixed with a perfume as well. It was heavenly. I had a hard time believing this young woman was seemingly interested in me but she had me convinced when her face turned toward my neck and she whispered into my ear, "You feel nice."
For the first time in several years, I felt wanted by a woman and I held her closer. "So do you," I replied. I felt my cock begin to swell and wasn't sure I should remain close to have her notice or take things slower. My hands caressed her back and I felt her draw me tighter as we swayed gently to the slow music. Her head remained on my shoulder and I felt her breathing against my neck and felt my cock strain against my pants. The song was thankfully long and enjoyable. I sensed Carley pull away slightly and then she was looking into my eyes, smiling faintly. And then she leaned in with her face and our lips met. It was a subtle, soft peck that lingered, broke away, then rejoined with parted lips. She was delicious and I drew her tighter as our tongues began initial explorations of each other. It went seemingly forever but realistically less than a minute and then the song was over.
The dance floor was fairly dark so when we parted I wasn't too concerned about the pitched tent in my pants. She stood before me, separated by a a foot of space but holding onto my hand. She looked up at me with that same faint smile then said, "I'm upstairs and have a beautiful view of the city lights. Would you like to come up?"
