Just Julie

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Sometimes it can be simple.
7.1k words
4.66
17.6k
17

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 09/28/2017
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Sometimes one forgets how simple it can be. Sometimes it just happens. Two people share a moment that becomes something more. No one ends up tied up or tied down. There are no handcuffs. No vibrating toys get pulled out of a drawer or a suitcase. There is no leather or lace, well, maybe a little lace. There are no drugs and no one has to get drunk enough to let down their inhibitions. Sometimes it still happens like it used to with no texts, sexts or X-rated digital pictures. It may not make for as good a story but it makes for a lot sweeter memory.

His flight arrived in San Francisco late. He had gotten the upgrade though and the red wine in first class is acceptable. There was no meal service but he got the warm mixed nuts and a bag of trail mix The shuttle bus from the airport was supposed to run every 35 minutes but it was not unusual to wait an hour. He had a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. His boss had not sent him a request that he needed to get to right away and there was a short little sandy haired brunette in jeans and a fancy blouse waiting beside him so he even had something to look at.

She had been waiting when he had gotten to the curb marked hotel shuttles and she stood leaning against a rail. He liked the way her silky shirt billowed over large full breasts and he liked the way her jeans wrapped tightly around an ass that was neither too broad nor too narrow. He liked how it curved gently above her thighs.

He waited patiently and lit another cigarette.

"Can I mooch one of those off of you?" The woman said to him. He had actually stopped staring at her and was surprised to turn and see that it was she that wanted the cigarette.

He didn't do anything as cheesy as light it before handing it to her but after extending the pack with three buts pushed out for easy withdrawal he stepped towards her and held the lit lighter out to her. The gesture failed in the Northern California breeze and he handed the lighter over to her.

"Thanks. I'm hoping it makes the buss show up," she said.

"It always works like that," he replied. He smiled his I'm not trying to sell you anything smile he used when he was trying to sell something to someone. She smiled back.

"They said 35 minutes. It's been almost an hour."

They spent a few minutes discussing the Doubletree vs. the Hilton and both expressed a preference for the former.

"The Embassy Suites is nice. The restaurant is right on the water."

"That sounds nice but I don't like the beds. You don't get a cookie either."

They smiled the road warrior smile everyone smiles over the chocolate chip cookie at the Doubletree.

The buss arrived. She moved to the back to hand her bag to the driver. He boarded and carried his carry-on on. They resumed the silence of the frequent traveller. He enjoyed talking to her but anything at this point would sound like a line so he let her sit in the front row and gave her back her privacy. He texted away in the back row keeping up with the family and teasing his friends about the football game over the weekend.

Having kept his own bag he was first in the line to check-in. A broad woman in a cheap suit stood behind him complaining there was only one person at the counter. The young woman in jeans was yet even further back.

He gave her a smile when he turned for the elevators and felt badly the minute he did. He knew a woman alone at a hotel was going to get hit on and he didn't want to be that guy. He had been doing this a while. He was over it.

He called home from the room, wished his son well on his test in the morning and told his wife he loved her. She replied with goodnight. She no longer said she loved him, not to him anyway. They were well past that. The boy left for college in ten months and he suspected she would leave shortly there after. It wasn't her fault; it just was what it was. Twenty-two years was a long time. She was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that came with being his wife. He was tired of the emotional isolation that came with being her husband. He thought about room service but it was just after five. Four happy-hour beers and a cheeseburger would mean a good nights sleep and an early start. He took his suit out of the bag and hung it up so the wrinkles would fall out of it and went downstairs to the restaurant and bar.

She felt an instant overwhelming relief when the driver dropped her at departures that morning. It had been a long weekend. Weekends before her trips were always a challenge. Robert - Bobby, simply didn't understand.

"You know how much I make, right?" She had come home Friday after a week at home and had to tell him she was leaving Monday morning

"Yeah," he said.

"It pays for your truck."

"I can pay for the truck."

"Yeah but not the truck and house." His payment on the oversized lifted Ram HD with 35's on 18" rims was only $18 a month less than the mortgage on the little three bedroom they had picked up in St. Paul.

"We would make do," he said. He didn't understand.

She couldn't help but think as she rode the elevator up to the sixth floor that the man in the sport coat and jeans would understand. She hadn't done anything on her trips but at times Bobby made it hard. She called her mom from the room to check on her boys and her husband to apologize. He was in a bar. She told him she couldn't hear what he was saying and disconnected.

It was really just a matter of time.

She pulled her workout clothes out of the suitcase and sat on the edge of the bed to take off her boots. She didn't feel like getting on the treadmill. She felt like a margarita. She zipped her ankle high boot back up and gathered her purse and phone and room key and then checked a second time to make sure she had her purse and phone and room key before heading back to the elevator.

She thought about bobby sitting at the Well ordering bottles rather than drafts so that Rhonda had to turn around and bend over. Rhonda thought he was an ass. She was safe as long as he was just after the bartender.

The hotel bar was busier than she expected. A row of men lined the bar itself. Several tables had little groups gathered around them. Two women, older than she was, sat off by themselves alone at tables pretending to work on their laptops as they drank their glass of wine and waited on their salad. She typically would have joined them. It was what you did. Sitting at your laptop reduced the number of creepers that offered to buy you a $5 glass of wine.

She watched the men turn and look as she stepped towards the bar. She had two choices, one on either side of the broad shoulders in a blue sport coat that had lent her a cigarette at the airport. She stepped up to the stool to his right. Sitting at the end of the bar would mean she only had someone on one side of her. It's the type of thing she had learned over the last nine months and something she now did without thinking. She stood as she ordered still contemplating a move to a table.

"Here. Do you want that chair, I can move over," said the smoking man. He nudged slightly to his left. He was a large man, as large as bobby but taller so he was shaped differently. He had an angry intense look that seemed to evaporate when he spoke to her. He looked almost boyish when he smiled. "I can move over a seat," he went on.

"No, stay," she said. She even put her hand on his shoulder. It wasn't planned. It was a horrible breach of protocol. She yanked her hand back.

"I can still move over a little for you."

"How wide do you think I am?" she teased him. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her.

"Occasionally in life you run into a question with no real answer," he said. He was drinking a beer. It looked good. She had learned to drink wine but down deep, she was just a beer kind of girl.

"That's a pretty good answer," she said back. He appeared to be reading something on his phone. Settled into her stool, he left her alone, uninterested. He was older, probably married with big kids. She imagined the big house and nice cars and a life without a deep freeze filled with venison in the garage. It was her own fault. She'd gotten drunk and knocked up and ten years later it does you no good to look back on what you missed out on, it was best to look forward, to have a goal and a plan to reach it. She ordered a beer and asked for a menu.

She was half way through her second beer when her phone blew up. First it was a string of normal text messages and then it was the foghorn sound she had assigned Bobby.

She and Rhonda had gone to high school together. Rhonda was more friend then bartender.

"Don't hate me."

"I had to 86 Bobby tonight."

"I don't give a shit. I put up with it because you and I are friends but he grabbed Christie tonight. First her ass then her boob. "

"I had no choice really. Call me if you get a chance."

Bobby offered his own explanation.

"Your fried Rhonda is a bewitch."

"Bee which."

"BITCH. FUCK THIS PHONE."

She hoped he was done and was contemplating abandoning dinner and going upstairs when it made the foghorn sound again.

"And done forget I gut a nine milmeter with a special load for any dick you stick in you."

"You don't live in Minnesota do you?" she asked the broad shoulders with the icy blue eyes."

"Phoenix. Kind of the opposite," he answered. "You from Minnesota?"

"I am."

"Amazingly good restaurants," he said. She wondered if he knew he was getting laid tonight. She wondered if his somewhat sweet somewhat dismissive thing was all an act.

"You decide on food?" the bartender asked her casually.

"Yeah." She said. She pulled the menu from under his elbow. "I want the salmon but its over my per-diem. How is the burger?"

"Hey buddy, I will buy you a beer for a business card." the tall dark stranger asked the man two seats down from the bar.

"I don't think I have one on me," the other man said. One more seat down a gray haired man in a baseball cap pulled out his wallet. A business card was passed down the bar to her new friend.

"What's that for?" asked Mr. two stools down.

"He's buying her dinner, dummy," said Mr. baseball cap. It was a chummy lot at the bar tonight.

"Did you put my burger in yet?" asked shoulders

"Nope. You said to hold off a bit."

"We'll have two more beers and get one for my new friend. Tom? Thank you Tom." Shoulders had read the name from the card.

"No problem."

"Do you wanna smoke?" he asked her.

"Desperately!" she cooed. "Julie," she introduced herself, offering her hand.

He shook it gently. "Trevor McLeod."

"Julie, Just Julie."

"Why Just Julie? You seem like an exceptional Julie."

"You are evil," she told him as they walked outside. "I don't know any of these tricks. You need to teach me."

The look he gave her melted the last of her reservations. "I am a very bad man."

"I hope so," she said. She pushed her way through the revolving door before either of them could say anything that ruined it.

Outside the front door they had finished their beers and smoked. Back inside she dismissed herself to the restroom. He was certain when she was back and sitting next to him she had undone another button of her blouse. When she leaned forward to place her hand on his arm he was rewarded with a glimpse of lacey orange bra.

He ordered a steak and contemplated the decision that was creeping up on him. As with most things he decided simply not to decide. It might happen, it might not. He left it up to the universe. She ordered the catch of the day.

When their dinners came she fed him a bite from her fork.

They discussed selling things. They discussed San Francisco and L.A. and Phoenix and Minneapolis. They discussed his wife only long enough to establish he had one and her husband only enough for her to call him an ass. They discussed their kids. They each had two boys and his youngest was the age of her oldest. They discussed college and life and after a long pause and a great deal of chewing she said simply "36."

He replied "46."

"That's not too bad," she answered.

"Do you know who Fleetwood Mac is?" he asked.

"Stevie Nicks. Of course!" she said in almost a shout. He watched her watch him watch her. "My mom loves them!" she said.

"Oh god!" he moaned.

"I'm teasing you," she said, leaning into him. She elbowed him in the side lightly. "You are kind of old but I am still inviting you up."

He looked at her and she smiled and pretended to focus on her fish.

They had a last beer before he asked for the check.

"I really want a piece of cake but I know it's the beer," she said as he added a large tip, signed the check, and took a picture of the check and ol' Tom's business card.

She turned and looked at him. He looked down on her. She was kind of a tiny curvy little thing. He liked her enough to actually go through with it and felt badly that he was about to ask her outside to have a cigarette and then tell her he was going to bed by himself. "I don't know what happens next," she said before he got a chance. Her voice expressed with a mixture of sadness and excitement he understood because he felt exactly the same way.

You go to bed in your room and I go to bed in mine and RT Technologies picks up our dinner, he thought. He planned it out. He thought it was perfect. Just as he opened his mouth to speak her lower lip quivered. It was possibly the most delicious thing he had ever seen. He placed his hand on her chin and his thumb on her lip. She closed her eyes. He kissed her.

"I'm in 618. Give me 10 minutes?" She kissed him again when she stood up then left without her purse. She spun about in a little circle, grabbed the bright red designer bag, and finally left for real.

He called the bartender over and asked for a slice of chocolate cake and a bottle of red wine to be sent up to 618 and put the charge on his American Express. He checked his watch and then played it cool but once around the corner scrambled to his room to shower. He very intentionally gave her 15 minutes before he knocked on the door to 618.

She was in a hotel robe when she answered the door. She let him in but not far. Before he was even too the little hallway that led to the bathroom she kissed him. He placed his hand on her hip. He kissed her back.

They whispered all the things people whisper in this moment. He told her she was beautiful. She told him she had noticed him the minute he stepped up beside her at the curb. He said he loved her in her jeans and was much shorter when she wasn't wearing her boots. She whispered back that she wasn't wearing her jeans anymore either. As they kissed he moved his hand inside of her robe. He moved his hand from the lacey panties on her hip to the bottom of her bra strap and pulled her closer to him.

"I've never done this before," she whispered.

He resisted telling her the same thing because although it was true no one ever believed him.

His heart raced as he moved his other hand inside of her robe and forced it to fall off her shoulders.

He kissed her shoulder and stepped back to sit on the foot of the bed. He towered over her and this was easier. He looked up to kiss her lips and then moved his mouth down her neck until he kissed the soft flesh between her breasts.

His hand moved to the small of her back and then along her spine until he slipped his fingers beneath the clasp.

"Wait, let me help," she offered in a whisper as me moved his face over the soft flesh of her breast as it struggled to spill out. He didn't wait. He slipped his finger beneath the strap and with his thumbnail flipped it open. She gasped a little. "You are a bad man."

"I did warn you," he said to her in his best gravelly man voice before pulling the bra off her shoulders and breasts and down her arms. They were magnificent and he told her so. "Magnificent," he whispered before taking one into his mouth.

She sighed again and clasped his head with both hands pulling him to her.

He moved his hands over her hips, over her ass, and down her legs.

"Lie down," he whispered to her.

"Not yet. Stand up." she countered. "You're barefoot!" she giggled.

"I am."

"That makes this easier."

As she unbuttoned his shirt she kissed his chest. When she had it open she tussled her nose about in his chest hair and giggled. When she moved her hands to his belt she returned his earlier embrace and sucked hard at his nipple. When she had his fly open and discovered he had not worn boxers after his shower she bit his nipple as she gripped his cock. He shrieked a girls shriek and she giggled again.

As she lowered herself down his body he stroked her arms, her shoulders, and then eventually only her hair. She had reached her knees and was looking up at him smiling a submissive little smile she lifted his feet out of his pants. He was the naked one. She still had on the pumpkin spice panties.

"Come here, lie down." He asked her again softly.

"Did you shower?" she asked back quietly.

"Very briefly. Shoulders Down. Didn't want to mess up my pretty hair," he teased.

She ran her finger down his chest, over the scruffy hair on his belly, and finally over his cock. She stroked him slowly. She stared at it smiling curiously. She cupped his balls.

"It's so weird," she whispered.

"Really?"

"Its... You shave them?"

"Yeah... I don't know. Started a long time ago. Just kind of keep at it now I guess."

She seemed to accept his explanation. She slipped her mouth over his cock. She tilted her head slightly. Kneeling in front of him she slipped her head forward and back a few times. She was gentle and slow. He moaned.

She pulled his cock out of her mouth and tilted her head further. She ran her tongue over his balls. At first she made long slow passes over them and then short quick little licks that tickled.

"Sit down," she commanded, "over there." She pointed at the small "L" shaped couch. He held his hand to her until she took it and lifted her up. He kissed her as they moved across the room. He moved his hand over her topless body, stroking her back and chest.

She pushed him playfully when they had reached the little sitting area and he collapsed back. He reached for her. He kissed her belly, sucked her tit, and tugged at her panties. She jumped a little and held them in place. "Not yet." He didn't mind. He could see her ass, broad and round in the mirror decorated by a plunging V of orange lace. He sat back. The sofa was firmer than he expected.

She grinned at him. "This is crazy," she said. She settled down between his legs and more than suck his cock, she made love to him with her mouth. Slowly and deliberately she licked at him. He moaned, giggled, groaned and grunted with each different sensation.

"Tell me when," she took a momentary break to whisper to him. When she took him again between her lips she was deliberate and almost aggressive. It didn't take long.

"Oh shit. Now," he muttered. He assumed she would stop, finish him with her hand. Instead she gripped him by the hips and swallowed. It was a different sensation, a pinching and milking feeling on the very head of his cock. His orgasm blast forth with a growl and she pulled at his hips gagging, holding him deep in her mouth.

She swallowed what she could but he kept coming. She pulled his cock from her mouth coughing and sputtering. She used his cum to lubricate his dick and milked from him the end of his orgasm. Twice more his cock spewed forth. Each time he squealed as if in pain. She grinned in an evil delicious sort of way.

"Good?"

"Damn!"

"You liked it?" she asked plaintively. Nestled between his legs, her hand still clutching his member she was pitiful and wonderful as she sought his approval.

"Come here," he bade her almost growling.

"Why?" she teased.

"Come... here..."

"I'm kind of tired," she said in a pleasant sing songiness. She yawned and reached her arms up over hear head in a long sleepy stretch. She was splendid, lean where she should be - plump where it was appropriate. Her breasts begged for his attention, her hips called to him. He leaned forward, gripped her about the waist, and pulled her to him until her tit was in his mouth. He used the strength of his whole body to lift her from the floor. He set her on the couch and planted her into the corner.

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