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This is purely a writing exercise from months ago that I just looked at again…


Miami. Shit. I was still in Miami. Hurricane central. I looked around the hotel room as I slowly woke up from my evening nap. It was all coming back. The miserable business trip. Friday night. The memo. My headache. My Sales Manager from hell.

My old-fashioned, Midwest printing company was hopelessly outclassed. We were offering tours of our plant and pens and notepads. My competition was giving away Cuban cigars and hosting trips to strip-clubs. I think they were even providing hookers, not to mention meeting our prices. I had fallen asleep writing a scathing memo that would probably get me fired. I didn’t have much to lose and had fallen asleep in my hotel room.

I heard someone crying and raised my head to identify the direction of the sound . Had the crying woken me? I sat up. The sound was coming from the next room. I had seen the woman next door by chance. Nice looking dark-haired lady around 40, my age. What was SHE crying about? Was everybody in the world unhappy tonight? I thought irritably.

I debated going out for a bite, but it was 11 pm, so I just ordered a pizza and took a shower. I could still hear the muffled sobs when I got out of the shower. How long would this continue?

Twenty minutes later my pizza was delivered. I was about to start eating but the sobbing sounds took my appetite away. What to do? I’m not big on getting involved in other people’s lives, but I’m not a cold-hearted bastard, either, so I went next door.

I knocked. There was no response, but the crying stopped. I knocked again.

“Yes” came a snuffled response.

“I’m in the room next door,” I explained. “Just wanted to see to see if everything was alright.”

Obviously it wasn’t or she wouldn’t be crying, but you have to start somewhere. The door opened a crack. Enough for me to see an attractive face with smudged mascara.

“That’s very kind. I’m sorry I disturbed you…” She replied, taking a breath to gain some composure.

An awkward silence followed.

“So…are you going to be okay?” I asked. “Do you need someone to talk to? A slice of pizza?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank-you.”

She wiped an eye, closed the door and that was that. I went back to my room and dug into the pizza, ESPN and an overpriced beer from the mini-bar.

I was halfway through the pizza when I heard a knock on the door. Being a Midwesterner in the Big City I was instantly “on guard” and tried to grab a wooden hangar as a weapon, but of course it was one of those kind that can’t be taken off the bar. I looked through the peephole cautiously and saw my formerly crying neighbor. Feeling a little foolish, I unchained the door and opened it all the way.

“Hi” she said with a shy smile. “Is your offer still open?”

“Sure. Come on in. Pizza isn’t very hot, but you’re welcome to it. Beer’s cold.”

She extended a hand.

“I’m Francesca _____________. Call me Fran.”


I arranged a chair and got a beer, all the while assessing Fran. She was very attractive, probably Italian-American, average height, conservatively attired in a black dress with gray piping on three-quarter sleeves. We made small talk for a few minutes. I found out she was from New York. Fran seemed to be checking me out at the same time. She tried a piece of pizza.

“It’s not New York pizza.” I said deprecatingly.

“It’s fine. If I accept your food and then criticize it, I’m a louse.”

She had a point. I liked it.

“I’ve never had a drink with a stranger” Fran said. “I never had a drink with a stranger in his room, that’s for sure. “

I nodded, then we were both silent.

Fran took a deep breath. I had noticed she was nicely endowed, but taking that deep breath thrust out her breasts even more. Seeing that, I took a slow breath myself. Fran started talking slowly, then faster and faster.

“This may be the craziest thing you ever heard, but I came to Miami to be bad. I came because I lost my faith in God, marriage–everything. Our priest was convicted of child molesting, the other one hit on me. I’m sick of my husband, who never-ever, did anything for me. Everything’s my fault. I can’t conceive, the doctor says I’m fine, but HE won’t get tested and it’s still my fault. I’m unhappy that I never get a present for my birthday or anniversary-“get over it”, he says. I complained to my mother-in-law and she slapped me. That’s it, I said, I’m out of here. Nobody hits me. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I came to Miami to think about things. Maybe even to be bad, to get back at him, but I can’t even be bad. No man even gives me the time of day. No one wants me. I go out to nightclub. Nothing’s going on. Go to another. Also dead. Go to another, women laugh at me, my clothes, I don’t know. So that’s why I cry. I was feeling sorry for myself. And now you know everything. Almost everything. I called my girlfriend and told her I was coming over here. For safety I call her.”

Fran took a triumphant drink of her beer and smiled half-heartedly. Rize Escort I nodded at her safety-consciousness (and thought of my attempt to arm myself with a hangar) and smiled back, then shook my head. What a story. Fran asked a few questions about my work, marital status (divorced), personal life and we chatted a little more. There was a definite chemistry between us. Still, I was caught off guard when she rose and popped the question.

“So. Will you help me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you help me be bad?”

“You’re serious? You CANT be serious!?” I asked incredulously.

“I am. I totally am.” She replied defiantly, but slowly lowered her eyes.

I opened my hands palms up and stood speechless for a moment.

“Just like that?…This is the craziest thing I ever heard of. And what exactly do you mean by “bad”? I don’t think you’re going to sleep with me just like that.”

Fran said nothing, but looked up at me with a flash of defiance in her eyes.

“Fran, you’re very attractive, but this is…unheard of. I’m don’t know what to say.”

I took Fran’s hands and looked into her eyes. I was doubtful, but everything I saw was genuine. Her lashes were damp, her breathing deep, her air of feminine vulnerability now palpable. And was she sexy! I leaned in and kissed her. She kissed me back. Our kiss grew deeper, our mouths opened and our tongues explored tentatively. We swayed on our feet until I moved towards the wall and pinned Fran against it gently. I thought it would be a good test. Press my body against hers and see if she pulled back. She didn’t. I mashed my chest against hers and found she gave as good as she got.


I took Fran’s head in my hands and kissed along her forehead and down until reaching an ear. I felt her stiffen and rise on her heels, so I lingered, breathing lightly in her ear, sucking her lobe, teasing her. I dropped my right hand lower onto her ass, another test. Was she for real or would she run?

Fran didn’t run. In fact, I felt her push against me. If my mouth wasn’t already open kissing her, it probably would have opened again. My blood was racing, my head pounding with excitement. I slowly walked the two of us a few steps over to the bed and fell backward slowly, Fran on top of me. Each of us was breathing hard. It was the only sound in the room, except a distant salsa band. Fran broke the silence.

“Maybe this is not so comfortable for you with me on top. Let’s do side by side. And more kissing. By God, I haven’t kissed like this in twenty years. I’m serious. I love it.”

I laughed at her openness and we shifted positions, taking up where we left off. Our kissing marathon went on for ten minutes or so, with neck and ears and tongues and all conceivable parts involved. My hands were roaming over Fran’s back and butt and we were grinding against each other in lust. The point had come for me to start removing Fran’s clothes. I toyed with the zipper at the top of her dress and pulled it down and inch or two. Fran said nothing. I was getting the green light. Unfortunately, mine had turned red. I pulled away from her and sat up.

“Fran, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Fran ran a hand through her hair and looked at me in bewilderment. I sighed and continued.

“There is nothing I’d like more than to make love to you tonight. Problem is, it was a bad day for me. I have a headache and it hasn’t gone away. I know from experience, the more sexual I get, the worse it will get. It gets like a drum inside my head. I don’t think I’ll be able to..uh..finish.”

“You have a headache?”

“Umm-hmmm. And it couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“You’re sure I didn’t give you one?”

“Yep. It was my boss. Guaranteed.”

“Poor baby. Let me get some ice for you.”

“No, that’s okay…” I protested, but Fran was already up and headed for the door, propping a newspaper in it to keep it from closing. She returned a minute later with one of those old- fashioned hard-case make-up bags and a hotel bucket of ice. I watched with curiosity as she dumped a few cosmetics out of a Ziploc bag and put some ice in.

“Lay back on the pillow” Fran commanded. I obeyed and she put the bag on my forehead.

“Feels good,” I said wistfully, “but not as good as your body. I reached out for her hand. I’m missing out big time.”

Fran lay down beside me.

“There’s always the morning ” she said sympathetically.

“No there isn’t,” I replied in my world-weary voice. “One thing I’ve learned in life is that there isn’t a second chance. Nothing is there if you wait. You’ll have a plane to catch, or be meeting a cousin for breakfast, or you’ll change your mind or…it’s always something.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Fran said adamantly. “I chose Miami because I don’t know anyone and I chose you and I’m not changing my mind. In fact, I’m going to get a bag and stay the night with you anyway, even if we don’t have sex. I’d rather be with you than be alone.”

Fran gave me another defiant look that slowly softened as I stared back at her. I stared because I was speechless. Rize Escort Bayan

“There’s nothing I’d like more. And if you’re gone in the morning, it will still have been a wonderful dream.”

Fran gave me a funny look and went to get her bag. When she was gone I undressed to my underwear and slipped beneath the covers. Fran returned and I heard her talking on a cell-phone. She ducked her head around the corner briefly and smiled, then went into my bathroom. I took two more aspirin and drifted off to sleep before Fran ever got out of the bathroom. Strange, strange, day.

Miami. Morning. Holy cow. It’s all coming back. SHE is still here and my headache is gone. I think. I move my head and neck on the pillow slowly, tentatively, to test for pain. I’m okay. I don’t want to move quickly and wake Fran. I breathe deeply… look out the window at the sky. Review the events of the previous evening. Wonder how long I can go before I have to get out of bed and take a piss and flush the toilet and wake her. What time is it, anyway? 7:17 stands out in red digital numerals.

I turn slowly to face the window on my side. Jesus, life is strange. Almost certainly, I’m going to be out of a job in 48 hours. That’s going to suck. Unless I totally misread something, in 48 minutes I could be making love to a very sexy and intriguing woman. A hand slides over my ribs and interrupts my reverie, followed by a sleepy “Hey!”

“Hey” I respond.

Fran snuggles up to my back.

“How you feelin?”

“Much better, thanks.”

I start to turn, but Fran stops me.

“I don’t have any makeup on. Give me a second to look nice for you.”

“You don’t have to” I protest.

“I want to.”

“Okay, but I get to use the bathroom first.”

I went to the bathroom and closed the door. I took a loud, long, whiz and looked around. Fran had arranged her things neatly on the counter and her clothes were hung on the back of the door. I washed and was about to leave when a corner of Fran’s hanging bra caught my eye. I felt like a schoolboy, but I had to look at the label. 36 “C”. Very nice. The sexiest women I’d ever been with were all small-breasted, but still…

When I came out Fran had the sheet over her head. I laughed and tugged at the sheet just to get a reaction, which I did. I watched her get out of bed with her back to me. She had on a silvery gown, but it was revealing enough to show a nice body. To me, anyway. I like curves. Womanly lines. I’m the first person to argue that the sexiest part of a woman is her mind, but a nice body never hurt.

I ordered coffee, tea and pastries from room service and put the bill on my company. Might as well go out in style. Fran took a while in the bathroom. I wasn’t surprised. I was surprised all over again by how attractive she was when she came out. I smiled. She smiled. She got under the covers.

“You really are beautiful,” I said.

Fran shook her head.

“Yes, you are. And I can hardly make sense of it all. In fact I can’t.”

Fran leaned forward on her elbows to respond.

“Sometimes life doesn’t make sense. That’s what I’m saying to you. Play by the rules all the time and what do you get? I stayed a virgin for a two-timing jerk? I’m supposed to stay married to a man who gives me nothing? One priest hits on me and the other molests little boys? How do I know the Pope is a good man? How do I know a woman couldn’t do a better job than he does? I don’t! They tell me birth control is wrong. Everything is wrong to the catholic church. I’m taking a vacation from wrong and right.”

“How do you know I’m not an axe murderer?” I said. ” You could end up in pieces or something.”

Fran shook her head.

“What makes you so sure?” I challenged.

“The sweater” she replied enigmatically.

“What? What sweater? What are you talking about?”

“Remember when we were on the elevator together yesterday? You picked up a sweater for that old lady before she even knew it hit the floor. You did it so quickly it was an unconscious act…you didn’t even see me smile at you. So I figured you were probably a decent guy at heart. Guys like my husband would say “Lady! Dropped your sweater!””

“Oh, yeah…yeah…I don’t remember you even being ON the elevator, but I saw you go to your room. That’s funny. Well, I’m glad I impressed you. It’s a pretty small thing, though. You can’t judge a guy by one small thing.”

“Kindness often comes down to small things.” Fran said, looking at me very intently. Her eyes seemed shiny and I sensed vulnerability again.

Room service’s knock intervened. I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants to sign for the cart, which I then pulled to Fran’s side of the bed.

“Thank-you,” Fran said. “I’ve never had room service in my life. My cheap husband always said room service was a rip-off.”

“Well, it’s no bargain,” I acknowledged. “Everybody knows that, but it’s convenient. And maybe a little kinky.”

“Kinky?” Fran asked with a puzzled look.

“Sure” I smiled devilishly. “You can do some…sweet things with one of those little Escort Rize packets of honey that come with room service tea…like these.”

I held one up. Fran looked, then her eyes grew wide. She blushed and pulled the sheet over her head. She recovered quickly, though, and we sat against the backboard like a couple of kids, drinking coffee, eating sweet rolls, feeding each other from time to time. Given the strange situation, it’s amazing how comfortable we were with each other. Which is not to say that we weren’t nervous. We were. Both of us. When we realized we were putting off the inevitable, we looked at each other for a moment, set our cups on the bedside table and pulled the covers over us. We kissed and snuggled and I sucked on Fran’s earlobe for a bit and tickled the inside of her ear with the tip of my tongue. She squealed quietly in pleasure, which made me hard in about 3.5 seconds, so I did the same to the other ear, then kissed along her neck.

“I’m having so much fun.” Fran whispered. “Is this how real people live?”

“Sometimes,” I said between kisses and let my hand wander down to Fran’s ass. “Sometimes it gets even better.”

“I’m ready for the better part.” Fran said. “I’m scared as hell, ’cause my husband and I hardly do it any more and I don’t know if” –

I put my finger to her lips and stopped her.

“Let’s just live in the present. Right now I see a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who wants to explore the sexy side of her that she’s never had a chance to explore before. She’s in bed with a…handsome man (I coughed deprecatingly), a man who commands her to take off her nightgown and reveal her stunning body to him.”

And she did. Fran was kind of lying on top of me as I spoke and she looked me in the eye, threw off the sheet and slowly lifted the hem of her nightgown over her head. I saw her thighs, matching panties, stomach, pale breasts with lovely brown nipples all come into view at once. She had a wonderful body and I was wide-eyed and salivating. Fran grabbed the sheet around her slightly and lay down on my chest looking at me.

“What happens next?” she asked.

“My heart attack” I replied, shaking my head in wonder. “Actually…actually, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

She responded shyly with a “Thank-you.”

I kissed Fran again and began exploring her body with my hands. I felt her stomach flutter slightly as I caressed just above her panties. Of course what I wanted most at the moment was to feel her breasts, but I thought it best to work up to them, to give more of her body its due. I caressed her ribs, her arms and pulled her to me for more kissing while my hands ran up and down her back. Of course I felt her breasts pressed against me, but it was a discrete pressure.

Fran explored my body a little while I did the same to her. She wasn’t shy about it, either. I laughed inwardly about that. The woman had a healthy sexual appetite.

I pulled her to me. Fran moaned and pushed right back. We went at it like high-school kids alone on the floor of an un-chaperoned party: all thrusts and quick breaths and kissing. Within a couple minutes my hands had found their way into the back of Fran’s panties and I was holding her full ass cheeks. A minute later we stopped for air. I released my hold and we rolled onto our sides and took a deep breath.

Fran looked at me with heaving chest and said breathlessly. “This IS fun.” And it was. The best kind.

We kissed slowly again, languidly and my fingertips made first contact with the soft underside of Fran’s breasts. Fran pulled her head away from me slightly and watched with an amused smile on her face. I traced little circles around the stiffened nipple, then softly squeezed the rubbery tips between thumb and forefinger. Fran moaned and closed her eyes.

“Again….soft….That’s so nice. Why are some men so rough with women? My husband..oops!”

“Ah-ha! There’a a penalty for that,” I said. “Straddle me.”

Fran complied with a smile, and I was treated to the wondrous sight of Fran’s tits swaying side to side as she moved on top of me. They may have had a stretch mark on the side and fallen slightly from her teenage years, but to me they were still glorious. They really were. I softly teased and squeezed two exquisitely distended nipples. Fran moaned and closed her eyes, leaning forward on her hands for support. I rolled her nipples gently between my fingers, tugged them out, pushed them in, brushed my palms across them and flicked them lightly.

“Hey!” Fran whispered.

“Hmmm?” I was reluctant to interrupt my work.

“I thought my boobs were dead, but you’re making me hot.”

“It gets better, too.” I boasted, and pulled Fran closer to me so I could suck a nipple. Fran’s body stiffened suddenly and she made a feminine sound that is impossible to translate into words. It was sexually enchanting on a level that goes past the meter of 1 to 10. I teased that nipple with my tongue and sucked it and used my lips on it every way I could, just to hear more of those sounds. Not only were they were a delight to hear, it was also a pleasure to see Fran have those teeny spasms, those electric moments of joy that caused her body to twitch . Her thighs would contract unconsciously, too. Just for a second-maybe even less. I was beginning to worry how long I could hold out once I got inside her.

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