1. PHL>LGA Part 1


    Date: 10/21/2014, Categories: Cheating, Author: BartenderBob, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    "Hey you" she says. "It was really great to meet you. I hope your trip goes well. I also wanted to get your card, as I might have a client for you". I fumble into my briefcase and hand her a card. She winks and then she's gone. Throughout my day, I'm distracted. She is on my mind. She has my card but I still don't even know her name. I run the whole situation over in my head again and again. If I had game I would have asked her for a drink. If I was on top of it, I would have at least asked her name. At about 6pm, as I'm heading out of the office, my phone buzzes. - Hi TJ! Meet me for a drink at the Mondrian lobby bar at 7? - Sure. Sounds good. I respond. My heart pounding. The next hour passes like an itch. I pack up and head to my hotel to get changed and clean up. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. I'm very likely reading the whole situation wrong. I head to the bar for a quick drink to ease my nerves, then off to the Mondrian. When I arrive, she isn't there. I order a Manhattan and settle in to a high-top. A few minutes later, she walks in. Dark jeans, high heels and a sheer gray, loose tank top. Her necklace hangs into the open scoop, sitting on the swell of her breasts. She is tall and has a beautiful, natural sway to her walk. Her light blonde hair is still tied up in a ponytail, which is bouncing behind her. I drink her in and she lets me, looking to the side of the room as she approaches. She slides up to the table and flashes her gorgeous white smile. ...
    She smells fresh. She looks confident, but I can see she is flushed. I tell her how nice she looks and she jabs that I might be suggesting that she didn't look nice earlier in the day. I return with the suggestion that we might not be here having a drink if she hadn't, to which she gives me a shy smile. She orders a Martini - I like her even more now. We clink glasses, and begin to talk openly about family, work, and all points in between. I wonder if I have misread the situation, or if talking about what is waiting at home for us gives us each an escape plan - should we need it. We order another drink and I can see she is starting to glow. I suspect that she might have also had an early drink or two... The conversation leans towards old boyfriends and girlfriends, and the reckless days before we had kids. When she laughs, she throws her head back. When she is telling me something off-color, she touches my arm. Finally, the conversation slows down. My mind is starting to wander, like my eyes and I suspect she might have other thoughts on her mind too. When the waiter comes to offer us another drink, we both reluctantly agree that we have had enough. Now what. The waiter brings the bill, and she insists on paying. She writes her room number down in large digits: 1947. There it is. She settles up with the waiter, and we linger. The last few sips. The pauses are palpable now. We can barely make eye contact, but when we do, we lock for too long. Finally, I muster up the courage to ...
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