Gwen
finished registering at the long table in the hotel lobby. Her flight had been
delayed, and then she had to check into the hotel and now she was easily the
last person to register for the conference. The woman across from her clamped a
plastic name tag on Gwen's blouse and handed her a bag of papers.
“Welcome
to the western region library convention. There's a meet and greet in the
barroom over there,” said the woman pointing across the lobby.
This
was all totally new to her. Gwen couldn't remember the last time she had been
away from her family. She had gone on this little adventure only because the
regular librarian where she volunteered had taken ill, but now she felt
strangely liberated. The meet and greet seemed a likely place to start.
The
crowded noisy barroom seemed a foreign place to her, having not visited such an
establishment since her college years, a decade or two ago, give or take a few
years. She looked around the crowd before stepping into the room and
approaching the padded counter. The bartender quickly noticed and looked at her
expectantly with his head cocked and eyebrows raised.
“Seven
and seven” she said, echoing a long forgotten scenario, like some phrase
shouted from a cliff that a long time later returns to your ears. She never
really learned to like a barroom. She always attracted the unwanted attention
of men and had to fence with them in conversations to repel them.
In
college she almost felt like a gladiator appearing in the arena with the eyes
of the crowd looking at her expectantly. A male gladiator would always appear
in the arena to approach her, his raised sword apparent beneath his trousers.
It embarrassed her every time because she always had this impulse to caress it
when she knew it was really a weapon aimed at her. Still, it hadn't kept her
from numerous encounters as an undergraduate.
The
bartender placed her drink on a napkin before her. She gave him a twenty-dollar
bill from her clutch, figuring it would cover the price, whatever it was. He
returned quickly with bills and change. She took the larger denominations and
left him the singles and change. Grasping the glass, she pivoted away so her
back was to the bar and inadvertently bumped into a younger man conversing with
two other young men.
“Excuse
me,” she said, lowering her eyes and starting to back away. The men looked at
her amused. They appeared to be college students, except for the one she had
collided with, who seemed more at the end of his twenties. He seemed the most
amused and after he scanned her cleavage he looked into her eyes and said:
“Hello,
Gwen.”
It
caught her by surprise that he knew her name. She looked up at him, searching
his face for recognition. Then she felt sheepish as he turned to face her and
she saw his name tag. She had forgotten she was wearing one. His read “Steve”
and “Cucamonga, Calif.” Hers read “Gwen” and “Phoenix, Az.” She pressed her
lips together, chagrined, but they were now face to face.
“Gwen
from Phoenix, are you a librarian?” Steve asked.
“I'm
a library aide,” she replied, “I handle children's programs.”
“I'm
a librarian, but I really like aides,” he said, then blushed, “I mean,
libraries really really need aides.”
“Well,
I like librarians,” she said raising her glass, “libraries really really need
librarians.”
“Touche,”
he conceded, smiling, “how long have you been an aide.”
“Only
two years.”
“That
shows commitment. We have a lot come and go. Not many stay two years.”
“How
long have you been a librarian, in Kooka - Monga?”
“Jack
Benny used to say, Anaheim Azusa and Cucamonga: he made us famous. But then
you're too young to know about Jack Benny.”
“I'm
too young?” She wiggled a little as she said it.
“Too
young to know about Jack Benny. Not too young for me. I mean …” he blushed.
“I'm
married.” She flashed her left ring finger, figuring it would ward him off.
“Me
too. I don't have a ring. Just a ball and chain.”
“Do
you have children's programs in your library?” she asked sipping from her
glass.
“Of
course. Technology is transforming everything though. Kids can have computers
read stories to them. Almost everything is online.”
“I
still find kids need personal attention.”
“That's
my feeling, but we need to have aides who understand the technology as well as
the children.”
“They
still have runny noses and diapers in our library.”
“True,
but it used to be all about books, now it's so much more.”
Maybe
it was the seven and seven but she was enjoying the conversation. She was
talking about libraries with a professional. But she was also talking with a
young man, and it seduced her into remembering her youth and the intellectual
vibrancy of college with its sexual tension lingering in the background.
She
did like his attention, no longer alone in a strange crowd, wondering whether
she still could arouse a young man. He created a glow in her that reminded her
of when she was his age, wondering if he would pursue her like men did in her
youth. She did fondly recall the esteem of having many men pursuing her, and
she didn't want to be a crone. She wondered about that at home. A woman in her
forties wasn't yet a crone but it lurked ahead of her. She already knew there
were clothes she couldn't wear because they were too young.
“Have
you visited the eats?” he asked.
“Eats?”
“It's
happy hour, there's a table with food near the dance floor.” He moved in that
direction, waiting to see if she would follow. She did. He led her to a long
table against the wall with trays of cheeses and crackers and vegetables and
other hors d'oeuvres. He handed her a paper saucer and they proceeded down the
table. At the end he pointed off to the other side.
“Let's
get a table.”
He
was leading her, taking charge, and she liked that. Where he was leading her
would be the adventure that unfolded. She liked pretending that a young man was
interested in her and intrigued that she might not be pretending.
She
hadn't noticed the music at first. As they sat at the table talking, the music
caught her attention a few times with songs from when she was in college,
dating, having romances. Sitting with this younger man evoked those wonderful
carefree days of fun and learning. As their conversation bird-walked across
topics, she sipped her glass down to the bottom and was ready for a refill.
There
were some couples slow dancing on the dance floor.
“Would
you like to dance?” he asked her. She was still immersed in her past. It posed
a challenge. She danced with her husband at events and business meetings.
Pressing their bodies together was perfunctory at best. Not like she remembered
from college where the pressing involved more evocative sensations.
“I
like this song,” she said, standing, “sure.”
But
she knew she risked crossing a line in the process. As they stepped onto the
open space of the floor he placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled
her towards him, she placed her right hand in his and her left on his shoulder.
It should have been mechanical but it was magical instead. She was touching his
body now and he was fully against her. A strange man holding her gently.
They
swayed and turned to the music. He asked her about her family and they
discussed his. Then he asked about her background, her former jobs, and her
education. In each case he was respectful of her, but she noticed him slowly
pulling her closer to him, their hand holding sagging to their shoulders. They
danced through that song and others, swaying and turning upright until one song
he removed his hand from her back and placed it softly behind her head, pushing
her toward his shoulder. She knew she shouldn't have allowed that, but she did,
and when he returned his hand to her back it was much lower.
She
kept her head on his shoulder as they continued dancing. She enjoyed the feel
of him, but she was conflicted now. She knew she had gone too far but she
enjoyed the feelings he aroused in her, flooding her with reminisces along with
emotions. It approached a dreamlike state. She was safe on the dance floor, she
told herself, but when he kissed her cheek she felt a cold draft across her
shoulders. She pulled her head back, looked directly at him and announced:
“I
think I'd better call it a night.”
He
stepped away from her but kept his hand on the flare of her hips. As they
walked to their table where she could retrieve her things, his hand remained.
“I'll
walk you to your room,” he said.
This
troubled her at first, but in her mind a backlash was forming against her
impulsiveness. When he had stepped away from her his chest was no longer
against her breasts and they noticed the loss of warmth. His remaining hand on
her kept this connection she felt with the sensations in her mind flowing from
her past. She could still feel the burning on her cheek but it was now
intertwined with those sensations from her past of being young and adventurous.
After all, it wasn't on her lips.
“Suit
yourself,” she said and turned away from him breaking his contact with her. She
walked several steps away but the devilish desire for adventure made her look
over her shoulder at him. He began following her. Her room was not far from the
ballroom, across the lobby and down a hallway. She became intrigued as he
followed behind her across the lobby and now her feeling of adventure came
alive. There was a young man pursuing her and it excited her. She felt
anticipation billowing inside her. She owned him. She wondered how far she
could milk the situation.
She
liked leading him down the hall, walking in a way that she knew would capture
his attention from behind her. As she pulled her key card from her clutch she
wondered what he would do when they reached her room. And so she didn't turn to
him when she arrived, she just pushed the card into the door mechanism and
pushed in the door. He approached her as she slowed and put his hands on her
hips. When the door opened she had to decide whether to turn to face him and
thank him for escorting her safely, or to just continue into the room leaving
the initiative to him. It was so delicious, feeling his hands on her. It was an
adventure she didn't want to stop by turning and bidding him goodbye.
She
entered her room and turned on the light switch. He followed close behind her,
even touching against her as he turned the switch back off. His arm reached
around her, turning her, as he closed the door and she felt herself pressed
against the wall with his body against hers, his lips finding hers.
This
was more sudden than she expected. She still had her purse, her shoes on, her
convention papers, that she had expected to shed as she introduced him to her
well-lit room. Only now she was in darkness and his hands cascaded over her
body. She was no longer in control and she had to decide how much of her life
she would surrender to this man. She thought momentarily of her husband but the
thought fell away as the man against her held her head on either side and
kissed her deeply. She would have to choose, but considering the circumstances
she realized she had inadvertently already chosen.
She
let his roaming hands envelop her breasts and she gasped at the sensations
unleashed. He continued kissing her as his hands began unbuttoning her blouse.
She leaned back against the wall, letting her possessions drop to the floor
while pressing her thighs and crotch against his. She knew that crossed the
Rubicon.
He
bit her lips, gently, as he pulled her blouse open and reached behind her to
free her bra that relaxed suddenly unleashing her breasts to his exploring
hands. Her knees weakened and as she slumped slightly he reached beneath her
bent knees and scooped her into his arms carrying her in the dim light to the
bed. She hung in his arms, letting her head fall backward, acting helpless but
wondering what awaited her.
He
could throw her violently on the bed and take her, hitting her, dominating her,
perhaps even seizing her throat to immobilize her. Remembrances of such scenes
from her recreational reading spun through her mind. Her stomach ached slightly
at the danger. It reminded her of when she was a child hiking at summer camp
when someone said they heard a bear. The same questioning fear, the same
trembling uncertainty, the same helpless realization crept through her body.
What was he going to do to her?
But
he sat on the bed and brought her onto his lap, removing her blouse and bra before
he leaned her back on the bed, on top of the comforter, removing her panties in
the process.
She
knew this was not something she should be doing but she nearly swooned at the
adventure. In the back of her mind there was outrage at her behavior,
formulated a little from fear, a little from propriety, a little from
foreshadowing but it also piqued her excitement. As he undid his trousers she
took the opportunity to remove her skirt and slip, easing into the center of
the bed awaiting him. She was nude, vulnerable, exposed, and trembling in
anticipation.
His
hulking shadow descended above her and her body quivered as she saw the dark
projection from between his thighs. She grasped the projection, feeling its
extraordinary warmth against her palm. It's heat flowed up her arm and radiated
throughout her body, bringing her into sudden exhilaration.
The
sameness in her life began to melt away as he began entering her. This was
excitingly different, almost like her first time in college, with a strange man
mounting her, wondering if he would be gentle. He continued taking possession
of her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and back, seizing her, taking
liberties with his lips against her neck and shoulder.
There
were new smells, some from him, his breath and body odor, but some from her
recognition of herself coming alive. Her own perfume wafted off of her warming
body, but she also smelled pure air through expanded nostrils admitting deep
breaths into her consciousness.
Her
mouth parted and more air streamed through an expanded throat that tingled just
from feeling her panting. Her eyes were open but all she saw were patterns from
her youth flowing through the mixture of feelings from him rolling against her
emulating past men who had loved her.
She
felt his rolling against her becoming more earnest and rapid. He was panting,
grunting. She grew concerned. The sensations that billowed throughout her body,
the warmth and excitedness, the trembling, the smells, the exhilarations
mounted as her mind swirled the past and present together. She wanted him to
keep going, rocking her, penetrating her, kissing her, fondling her, but
instead she felt him pulling away, convulsing, thrusting into her, flooding her
as his body stiffened and his arms tightened.
“Don't
stop,” she pleaded even as she felt him becoming flaccid against her. She
arched against him, jerking her legs to keep him moving. Her mind detached,
savoring the feelings he had aroused in her, drifting off into reverie. Time
vanished. Echoes of ecstasy reverberated in her abandoned consciousness.
The
phone rang, startling her alert. She could barely see it by the dark lamp next
to the bed. It was insistent. He was lying atop her panting.
“I
have to answer, it's probably my husband,” she said in his ear, reaching for
the phone but holding him against her. He stayed firmly between her legs,
embedded in her as she answered.
“Hello?”
she recognized her husband's voice, “oh, nothing, just lying in bed in my room.
How are the kids?” Her companion looked up at her momentarily then took one of
her nipples in his lips. She smiled.
“That's
good. Make sure they get to bed on time.” Her husband's voice in her ear, her
companion sucking on her nipple, the continued warmth between her legs, gave
her a feeling of empowerment she hadn't known before. A dreamlike state of
bliss enveloped her, making her voice almost a guttural whisper.
“The
convention's just starting and I don't know anyone.” His hand glided onto her
other breast and softly massaged.
“I
miss you too,” she whispered into the phone, tightening her vagina. He
responded with a gentle thrust.
“I'll
give you more details tomorrow,” she paused to listen, “Okay. You too.” She raised and crossed
her legs behind her companion.
“I
love you too. Good night.” She replaced the handset on the phone then slowly
lowered her legs.
“Unngh,”
she sighed again, “Sorry for the interruption.”
“I'll
let it go, this time,” he laughed as his mouth descended upon hers, slightly
more violently this time biting her lips then smothering her mouth. It raised
that subtle fear of the bear in her again, along with the excitement. She felt
him hardening inside her.
“Umm,
round two?” she asked when he raised his head.
“It's
going to be a long night,” he said, “but first, do you mind if I call my wife?”
She
pouted at him.
“Okay,
seems fair,” she said smiling wickedly, “I'll just practice my sword
swallowing.”
“I'll
make it quick,” he said reaching for the phone. She giggled, sliding toward his
waist.
They
ordered breakfast from room service and entertained each other until he had to
leave to prepare for the convention. She lost track of him after that. The
convention proved interesting enough on its own. She took the Sunday flight home
and was met enthusiastically by her kids at the airport. Her husband was more
subdued. She wondered about that, but she also felt smugly empowered by her
secret adventure. Her nipples tingled.
Monday
morning she got him off to work and the kids off to school before showing up at
the library. She went into the librarian's office, who seemed recovered from
her illness. Gwen sat across from her and started reporting on her time at the
convention. Eleanor, the librarian, listened intently but then when Gwen was
finished she smiled primly.
“I
see you met Steve,” the librarian said, “I should have warned you about him.”
“What?”
asked Gwen, puzzled to hear his name since she hadn't mentioned him in her
report.
“Steve
always tries to leave his mark on the new ladies,” said Eleanor reaching into
her unseen purse behind the desk. She gave a hand mirror to Gwen. “It's on the
side of your neck below your ear.”
Gwen
remained puzzled but took the mirror and held it up to view herself. The blood
drained from her face and her stomach turned nauseous. She didn't know why she
hadn't seen the red quarter-sized hickey on her neck. Her husband had to have
seen it.
“Have
yourself checked for gonorrhea,” said Eleanor with her hand reaching for her
mirror, “he sometimes has a problem with that.”
Gwen
nearly fainted as she gave back the mirror.