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She was DC lawyer. I used to travel a lot for work, and I would post anonymous profiles offering to fulfill fantasies. I matched with a recent divorcee in her early forties. She didn’t want to chat much before meeting, just wanted to meet at the bar in my hotel.

I left dinner with my colleagues early, using some lame excuse when I got her text. When I saw her sitting nervously in an arm chair in the hotel lobby. I could tell she was a bit shy, but she was hotter than I wondered. She had a back pack and bag tucked under her arm. I walked over, offering a hand and introduced myself. Fake name. She blushed, took my hand and stood up. She was yoga mom hot, 5’8, slender and fit, but with curves. Olive skin, big brown eyes. Pretty. She straightened her hair, but it’s pulled back in a pony tail. She was in yoga pants and a work out top, with a jacket over. There’s no question that she was hot, and knew it before she got married and had kids. She was still smoking hot! I don’t think she had felt sexy in a long time. 

We went to bar. Sized each other up. Small talk, I told her I wondered she might not show up. She looked down and smiled coyly, and said “I want this.”

As we were chatting at the bar about hard limits and safe words, this overweight older white guy stumbles over. Slurring slightly, “do I know you?” They were both lawyers, crossed paths at the court house. He proceeds to brazenly flirt with her right in front of me. I smirk, amused. He thinks he’s got a shot, but I know I already own her. She bats away his advances. He slinks of to whatever hole he crawled out of. 

She says, “Sorry about that. I thought he’d never leave.” She’s nervous. I reassure her, and ask if she’s ready. She nods. I take her hand and head to the elevator. She’s trembling. I give her hand a squeeze as we ride up. She smiles at me and blushes looking down. I ask what her what her safe word is and she tells me.

As we walk through the door of my suite, she’s asks if she can freshen up. She heads into the bathroom with her backpack and bag under her arm.

I pour two glasses of viognier, and relax into the arm chair with a view of the bed and bathroom door. I like that she’s taking her time to get ready.  I’m enjoying the wine, savoring the buttery flavor.

The door slides open. She’s transformed. She strides out, auburn locks flowing, wearing black thigh high stockings with a garter with matching teddy, and what appears to be black crotchless panties. 

My mouth was already watering. I got up and circled her, drinking it all in. I ran my finger across the small of her back, enjoying the view from behind and getting her used to my touch. As I came around to face her, I slide my finger across her pussy lips. They were so soft, practically bubbling with witness. Standing there nose to nose,  I whispered, “mmmmmm, any last requests?”

“I want you to treat me like a whore.”

NSFW: yes

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