Istanbul

To be promoted wasn't a complete surprise. I had been the top performer in my team for over a year and I had made it clear to my superiors that I expected nothing less. The new position, however, caused some upheaval in my social live. On top of my current job I would lead a team in our newly opened Istanbul office. This meant that I would spent one out of every three weeks in Turkey. My wife, I got married last summer, was obviously not too happy about this. But it seemed okay to me, we bought a house just over a year ago and the extra money wasn't unwelcome. I also figured that if I was gonna work abroad I wanted to do it before we got children and before I was thirty. My gut feeling had decided almost immediately that I wanted to take the position, but I waited another week, in which I convinced my wife,, before I took the position.

My wife Lina and I have been together for about five years now. We met at university and though she might not be considered a 'hotty' by everyone,she does the trick for me. She combines sensual eyes and high cheekbones - giving her a mysterious eastern look - with large firm breasts and long slim legs. The only downside about her physique are her wide shoulders, flat behind and the fact that she packs about five 6 kilos too much.

I fell for her head over heels, I worked hard to get her and have been faithful to her ever since. She is fun, understanding and not the jealous type. Our sex live is healthy, though maybe a tad on the boring side, it takes place in the bedroom. There's a range of four to five positions to choose from. It happens about twice a week. It's not something I worry about, but I would be lying if I 'd say I didn't dream about different women and different position.

My first week in Istanbul can only be described as rather unpleasant, the hotel I was staying in, was a typical business hotel with the personality of a paper towell, it was located in the new business district far away from any interesting historic sites, not that there was any time time to look into those anyhow. My working days would start at about eight in the morning and would last until seven at night. Every other day I would take someone from my team to lunch to get to know them better. Long days. I reinvented myself as a hard-working super professional. I limited myself to management speak and tried to make as little jokes as possible (I have crude sense of humor that can be quite off-putting to people who don't know me).

The team surprised me. As a Western European, my views on Turkey are basically limited to the Turkish immigrants that live in Western Europe, mostly poor, often uneducated and not very modern. My team was entirely different. They were all young, learned, urban and hyper professional. Whereas at our company headquarters it is okay to come to work unshaven and in a wrinkly shirt, my team would look immaculate: suits and ties for the men and two piece suits for women. There were two women on the team and three men. Even though the women were young, they seemed rather frigid and sexless. Their outfits were more functional professional than sexy professional. Their hair was tied in a knot or braided. Ferhiye, the youngest of the two had a pretty face, was about a 1,65 meters and I guess weighed a bit more than she would want to. She seemed smart, picked stuff up easily, but refused to smile. Yaprak was taller and slimmer, I would be lying if I described her as smily, but she seemed a bit more extoverted.

One of our unofficial company mottos is: Work hard, party harder and I had been instructed by my direct superior to take the team out at least once in my first week. So on Thursday evening, the day before I would leave, We decided to go out for a few drinks, armed with a company credit card. It was excellent. I will be the first one to admit that I need a drink or two before I can unwind and the same seems to be true for my new colleagues. My idea had been to have a polite drink or two and make it back to the hotel around eight so that there would be time for packing and sleeping. But it ended rather differently. After two beers, we took a streetcar to Beyoglu, the lively heart of modern European Istanbul, and ended up in a series of bars. Starting at a hipstery place and ending at a karaoke bar. It was around four o'clock by the time I found my hotel room. The next morning I showed at up work less cleanly shaven and with quite a hangover.

The two weeks after that, I worked from our headquarters in Scandinavia and stayed in touch with Istanbul through long distance meetings and calls.

I agreed with travel management to change my hotel for the next trip to a small 'boutique' hotel in Beyoglu and to book my flight back on Sunday evening instead of Friday evening, so that I would have two days to discover the city's sights during the weekend.

The work athmosphere during my next trip was completely different. Whereas I was Mr. Professional in my first week in Turkey, now I was more relaxed, we had gone out together. I had taught them some of the unofficial tricks to keep upper management of their and ultimately off my back. In my first week there, it had been them and me. This time, it was us. Again we worked long hours and again we went for drinks on Thursday evening.

On Friday I asked people about where I should go for good food in my area and I agreed to meet Yaprak around 09.00 pm at Taksim square, the heart of modern Istanbul, in walking distance from my hotel.

After work I took the metro to my hotel and took a long cold shower, the weather was over 25 degrees and I my shirt was clinging to my chest by the time I got to the Hotel. I called my wife and watched some TV. A bit before 09.00, I made my way to Taksim. Just like the past three days, everyone of Istanbul's 13 million inhabitants seemed to be out in the streets, and they were made up for the night. Oufits ranged from cool chique to hipster to street sweeper for men and from burqa to tiny shorts for women. There was something festive about the town.

After a lot of searching I met Yaprak and Esra, a friend of her's on the square. I was happy she had brought a friend along as it would avoid the possibility of uncomfortable moments.

Whatever business outfit Yaprak might have been wearing that day, it had been tossed aside for a black skirt that wasn't mini, but clearly flirtt. A cream coloured blouse and a wide burgundy colored scarf made her look sophisticated. Her hair was tied into a loose braide that hung over her shoulder.

Esra however was quite the piece. She was small and frail, had half long darkbrown hair, with a twinkle in her eyes and a dimple in her cheeks when she smiled and she smiled a lot.

She wore a greyish dress with stockings and a black turtle neck sweater that hugged her body tightly. I like to think that I give people a chance, that I don't judge them in those first split seconds I see them. But that is not the case, in those first seconds I judged her as cheeky, sexual and very attractive.

We got to the restaurant, a smallish, rather expensive, organic meets fine dining affair. We found a table. I chose the bench side of the table and Yaprak took a chair. Esra sat next to me on the bench side, Instead of keeping some distance, as one normally does in new and even old company. She sat right next to me, way in my comfort zone, which put me off my game a bit.

We ordered and got into a light discussion about how European Istanbul is. What Esra lacked in in size, she made up for in opinions. She would deliver them eloquently and passionately. When she talked she didn't look around. No, her eyes we intensely focused on Yaprak or me, depending on who she was addressing and she would support her ideas and statements with body movements, more then once touching my shoulder, arm or hand. She seemed, rather, intense.

After a while and my first red wine, however, I got comfortable around her. I found out she had been an exchange student in Northern Italy, had studied tourism and was now working for a business hotel in Istanbul. She came from Marmaris, a small touristic city in the south west of Turkey and had lived in Istanbul for a five years. She was unattached after a long relationship had recently petered out.

The food was excellent and we combined it with two bottles of red and a sweet white wine to go with the desert. By the time we got out of the restaurant it was about 11.30, I was somewhat tipsy, though far removed from drunk. We were locked in a debate about the book 'Istanbul: Memories and the city' by Orhan Pamuk. We had all read it. I had appreciated it a lot, the writing was poetic, though not too much, and the book was an excellent introduction to the city. Esra claimed it was emotional dribble and accused me of defending the melancholic ideas of the Ottoman upper class. Yaprak's opinion got lost in the crossfire.

Having reached Taksim, Esra and me would go one way, as she was to take a streetcar a bit east of my hotel and Yaprak needed to go somewhere else.

Esra vaguely knew the hotel I was staying at, it had only recently opened and gotten rave reviews on travel websites.

'I wanna come up and see your room. I saw pictures of the rooms on the net. They looked great.

The statement seemed a bit weird. At this point the alarm bells in my head out to have started ringing. It was not that that they weren't. It was more that I was consciously ignoring them. "Common, she just wants to see the room, she'll be in and out in five minutes, she works in tourism, they need to know what's happening in the industry in their town." One part of me thought. "Yeah, sure, working on a Friday night." my more realistic part answered.

The hotel was based in an old inner city mansion. I stayed on the fifth floor and my room had an excellent view over the Bosphorus. Its rooms combined modern with old in a fashionable way, you know: wooden floor, heavy curtains, toned down colours, old looking, yet very comfortable chairs.

"I could stay in rooms like this for my job." She responded to seeing the room.

"Yeah, nothing wrong with the hotel. Hey, I got a bottle of Raki, one more drink for the road?" I suggested.

Part of me actually believed it. You know, one more drink and then she'll go.

It wasn't that the alarmbells weren't ringing, they were, only very muted, somewhere very far away. I had a vague sense of where this might be heading. The thing is, I liked where it was heading, I wanted it to go there. She was young, passionate, attractive and she was in my room. My wife and my house were a continent away.

"Yeah, Sounds good." She said carelessly. She was playing with her cellphone and my tiny travel speakers in an attempt to get some music.

"I'll go and get some ice." I said exiting the room. When I got back slow Turkish music had filled the room. She was lying on her back on the bed. Her shoes were in front of the bed on the floor. Her eyes were closed, her legs about twenty centimeters apart. Not in a saucy come-and-fuck-me kind of way, just relaxed on the bed. Her skirt had come up about 15 cm above her knees. I tried to sneakily catch a glimpse of what was in between her legs but didn't see more then the suggestion of the edge of her stockings. When my eyes travelled up her body she caught me looking at her, she smiled at my embarrassement.

"Drinks?" she asked, offering me an escape route.

"Yeah, of course," I responded. "It seems I got a bit sidetracked." I turned around, happy to hide my shame at being caught, I mixed the drinks and offered her a tall glass. She remained on the bed, now sitting up and I took the comfortable chair on the other side of her. Her skirt was still as high up as it had been before and now I was shamelessly checking her out. We sat silently, drinking. Me looking at her legs, she, looking at me, looking at her.

"Do you know this song?" she asked, as the music jumped to what sounded very much like the last song. 'They all sound the same to me, I am afraid' I replied.

"What? Not at all, this is an awesome song!" the passion was back. She stood up and started dancing and to the song. She twirled slowly and her hand and arms wrapped her body.

I sat. I looked. She was gorgeous. I must have been fully erect at that point.

"Common, dance with me." She demanded. Now the alarm bells were ringing not only distantly. They were very present. I knew where this was leading, not only vaguely. If I would stand up, there was no way back. But, I wanted to stand up so badly. I put my drink aside and grabbed her outstretched hand. She pulled me towards her and I allowed myself to be pulled, I wasn't kidding anyone, I had offered her the drink, I had offered no resistance, This was on me.

Our bodies touched as we slow danced for some seconds. My right leg firmly in between her legs, pressing. I then twirled her around me and pulled her back. Her back now facing my front, we swayed our hips in a similar rythm. My hands repositioned themselves on the side of her hips. She turned her head sideways and her neck opened up. I bent my neck and kissed hers. Once ,softly, then making my way to her ear. Her breathing meanwhile had gotten a bit more heavy and she was now grinding her behind into my crotch. She turned around and, now facing each other, we kissed. First slowly, then greedily. My hands made their way to the bottom of her skirt and under it, lifting the skirt on my way to her buttocks. We made our way to the bed kissing passionately. On the egde of the bed there was some hesitation, the kissing stopped and our bodies split about 5 cm from each other. She was sitting on her knees on the bed, i was standing next to it.

"Yeah?" She asked.

"Yeah," was all I could come up with.

She pulled her turtleneck sweather over her head revealing a delicate black bra, her breasts seemed smallish and perky. She then unbutonned my shirt and dropped it on the floor. The small hesitation I had felt before was now completely gone. I got rid of my pants and threw myself on top of her. We rolled around and kissed. She got on top of me and sat up straight, she put her index finger on my lips and reached back to open her bra. Her nipples were perfect, dark pink and erected on small areolas. When I got up to touch them she puched me back down. She now stood up and got rid of her skirt, revealing a panties that had matched the bra and slowly took those off. I took off my boxers. She straddled me and started gliding over my fully erect penis. Not inside of her, just between the outer lips. Up and down and up and down, covering my penis in her juices.

"Condom?" I whispered.

"Birth control." She replied.

She leaned over, kissed my mouth, and manoeuvred my penis with two fingers inside of her. She rode me, I turned us around, put her legs over my shoulder and rode her. Turned her again, on all fours, and fucked her from behind. Her breathing was very heavy now and combined with quiet ohs and ows. Feeling how I was gonna come, I slowed the pace, took my penis out and lied on my back. Once again she straddled me and rode me. I came. For about twenty-thirty seconds, I came. Pushing my ankles down in the mattress and arching my back to get as deep inside of her as much as I possibly could. She remained seated on top of me slowly rocking. She smiled wearily, leaned down for a kiss and fell beside me on the bed.

"You okay?" She asked when I had caught my breath.

"Yeah, me okay." I answered. "You?"

"Yeah."

There was a silence for about a minute or two. This is where the guilt is supposed to kick in, but nothing seemed to kick in. Not that the potential gravity of the situation was unclear. Just that, in maybe a twisted way, I could rationalize this. This was me doing what I wanted. Living my life. This doesn't have to complicate things.

"You wanna sleep here?" I asked. I figured I had crossed a line, once on the wrong side I might as well enjoy it.

"You think I should?" She had turned to face me.

"Breakfast is pretty decent." I responded. Which made her smile. "Before that we could take a bath, drink, get to know eachother, sleep a bit."

"Get to know eachother? How old fashioned. How about you fill up the bathtub and get some ice while I lay her."

Ten minutes later we were both in the bathtub, Raki had been replaced by a local rosé from the minibar.

"So do you do this often?" she asked.

"Do what often? Bath with people I have met three hours ago? Yeah, It happens."

"Nah, I was more thinking sleeping with your co-worker's best friend. I had you down as a nice guy, not the cheat-on-my-wife-on-a-worktrip-type."

"First time." I said.

"Guilt?"

"A little. Well, quite a bit. But I don't really think this was something strange, This happens all the time. Nothing human is strange to me. Or, you know what, fuck the rationalisation. You were attractive. I wanted you. I would do the same tomorrow. Well, if you give me enough wine. How about you? You do this often?"

We were sitting facing one another. With my legs under the water and her legs on my left shoulder. I kept her legs warm trickling water on them and ran my fingers repeatedly over her perfect calfs.

"You're not my first one night stand, You won't be the last, But no, not often." she responded. "First time I end up in a bathtub sipping rosé afterwards though, I'll give you that."

My right hand's fingers were now trailing up her leg. from her calf up to the inside of her knee toward her thigh. Always a bit further, ever soft.

"Does it bug you that you didn't come?" I asked. This was more a customer service thing than an insecurity. It was a longstanding conversation between me and my Lina about me valuing coming more than she did. She would come about once a week. For me, being a man,the use of sex without coming just didn't register.

"Well, I didn't really expect to, not during a one night stand." She replied. "Now how about you wash yourself and get out of here so I can do the same."

"Sure thing."

I got out of the bath and made my way to the living room with my drink. I arranged her clothes on a chair and put mine away, I am a bit anal that way. I lied on the bed in my towell, with most of the lights dimmed, reading my travel guide when Esra reappeared from the bathroom.She was naked except for a towell that was draped like a turband on her head. She was gorgeous.

I sat up on he side of the bed and she came to sit on top of me. We kissed and my hand raced over her body. squeezing her breasts, ass cheecks and rubbing her back.

After a minute or two she whispered in my ear: "How about you make me come?"

I love this bit. Being bossd into doing stuff in bed. Being ordered to make someone come.

I kept on doing what I was doing for another while and then turned us around on the bed. She laying on the bed with me on top of her. I slowly kissed my way down her body. I kissed her neck. Her cheeckbones. I spent time kissing, licking and nibling both her breasts, before going further south. In between her legs I started circling her box. I kissed and licked her inner thighs, cupped her buttocks. After a minute or two of that I started licking her outer lips with long strokes. She gasped once and started breathing more irregularly. I moved slowly to her inner lips, licking and sucking. Taking my time. After another minute or so I blew on her visible clitoris and put my tongue in her box, meanwhile one of my hands was kneading her butt, the other was massaging her nipples. She gasped and started making mouse noises. I now moved in on her clitoris. Licking it. Sucking it. Blowing it. She grunted. She squeeked. Her belly and upper leg muscles started contracting. I slowed my activities down and stopped entirely. I got up, put her legs on my shoulders, placed my cock at her entrace and slowly pushed in and out. I picked up the pace and pushed my cock all the way in. My fingers massaged her breasts.