Conventional Warfare 1 - Meeting a bitch in a bar

I was never one for drinking on a business trip, but after ten hours of

listening to the benefits of extruded plastic, I needed to unwind.  The

convention hotel had a bar on the bottom floor.  It was one of those

places that are built for drinking and meeting, not for any kind of view

or gimmick menus.

It wasn’t full of people yet, but it wasn’t exactly empty.  I found

myself a place at the bar, ordered myself something watered down and

settled down for an hour of no brain activity.

That’s probably why I almost fell off the stool, startled, when she

asked me what I was drinking.

I turned around with a small smile in the voice’s direction, growing a

little as I took her in.  Man, she was gorgeous.  The classical

hourglass form covered in a smart skirt suit, her brown hair clasped in

a bun on the top.  Eyes you could stare into for hours.  I felt myself

doing just that, self-conscious as she waited for my answer.  I told her

what I had, and she ordered the same from the bartender.

I’m not ugly, but neither am I a ‘hunk’.  It felt good having a woman

approach me in a bar.  We talked about plastics, laughed together about

the foibles of some of the presenters, and shared trivialities.  I

glanced at the clock.  It was two hours since I walked in, and it felt

like two minutes.  But tomorrow’s day was going to be another long one.

I finished off my drink, and smiled apologetically in preparation to

make my departure.  Instead, she said she had some samples she wanted me

to look over, and wouldn’t it be quieter somewhere else - my room,

perhaps?

Yeah right.  Like I was going to say no.

I paid both of our bar tabs and led the way back to the elevators and

my room.  One good thing about my company, they’re willing to spring for

comfort.  I had a small suite all to myself, a sitting room branched off

the bedroom.  I let her in, and mixed up something light at the wet bar

after dropping my tie and jacket on the bed.

About that time, I realized that she hadn’t brought anything up with

her besides her purse.  So much for looking at samples.  We talked some

more, about nothing in particular, and we moved into the sitting room. 

Placing her drink on the table, she looked at me for a long time with a

sly smile, not talking.  I wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but I

didn’t have to wait long to find out.

She sat me down on the couch, telling me to not move unless she moved

me or told me to.  Not sure where this was leading, I said I would. 

With a coy smile, she moved away from me.

She stood before me in a skirt suit and silk blouse with a sultry look

on her face.  Her hands went to the buttons on her jacket, and slowly

unbuttoned them one by one. She never once took her eyes from my face. 

I remained where I was sitting on the couch.

She pulled the jacket open as she arched her back.  The jacket slid off

her shoulders and to the ground as her chest pushed forward.  Hands

reached up to unfasten her bun, and with a slow head shake freed her

long brown hair.  The clasp joined her jacket.  Not one word was spoken

as she tugged the blouse out of her skirt.