Stacy

Stacy walked into the bar with a sigh. It wasn't a busy night, and she almost turned around to go back home. Home. The word held different meaning these days. Things had changed. She had crossed an invisible line, and knew she couldn't go back.

It was that convention last year in Philadelphia. She hadn't wanted to go. She wanted to stay home with her husband Bill, but her boss insisted she represent the company this time. She had begged off the previous three events that should have been her turn. It wasn't her fault, though! She had to stay home last June, it was her daughter's wedding weekend. And the September conference in Cleveland conflicted with the trip to Maui her husband had been planning for a year, an 35th Anniversary gift to them both. Then there was the October sales meeting in Dallas when Bill had just broken his arm, and she had asked to stay home to help him cope. Philly was on their actual anniversary, and her boss just raised an eyebrow when she asked to be excused. She got the hint, and took the trip.

Stacy ordered her go-to cocktail, a margarita and scanned the room for prospects. Too old. Too fat. Too bald. Too in love with the woman he was with. She sighed again. Perhaps things would pick up. It would be a shame to go through all the trouble of dressing up, fixing her hair, and making herself up, and then spend the night alone. She missed Bill's company when she was on the road, and her thoughts turned back to Philadelphia.

She went to the conference. She represented her company well, and signed several new clients. She grinned remember how she had felt knowing there would be a handsome commission check that month. She wanted to celebrate. She called Bill, but remembered he had gone to their son's college to visit on parents' weekend. She celebrated alone in her hotel's bar. She wasn't alone long.

His name was Alexander. He went by Xander. She remembered him as "Philadelphia.' She was coy when they met. He asked to join her at her table for one, and she didn't agree readily. He was polite, and charming and she played hard to get, while he played get it hard. Her flagrant exhibition of her wedding ring didn't slow him down. Her declarations of 'having never done this before" didn't slow him down. Her admonishments that she couldn't do this to her husband met with indifference. Her concession to his determination was accompanied by the condition that he only stay for a short time was quickly agreed to.

Once in her room, he took her into his arms and pressed himself to her while invading her mouth with his tongue. She relaxed into his embrace, but secretly lamented there husband's gentle touch. She was celebrating her success on the night before her anniversary with a handsome and obviously virile stranger, and could think of nothing but Bill. But her lover had no idea of her melancholy, and as he quickly stripped them both, Stacy's thoughts of Bill faded into nothingness.

What "Philadelphia" lacked in finesse he compensated for in physical strength. Stacy found herself losing reality, and getting lost in the sensual feast she was feeling. The cock that her lover wielded was welcomed deep into her mouth, a pleasure she rarely afforded her husband. She found herself making love to a cock. She had felt no connections to the man. And could have cared less how he felt, but she was keenly in sync with his splendid penis. Every twitch was met with a subtle chance in pressure from her lips, or a delicate flick of the tongue along the glans that couldn't miss coaxing another moan from the man attached to the meat. It felt like the cock was in her mouth for hours, and for all she now knew it could have been. His slow, long thrusts were delicious, and she savored it with all her senses. She savored the taste, and the way it varied across the length of the organ. She craved heat of the man, the way his wiry pubic hair tickled her face as he bottomed out in her throat. The way the cock filled her throat was consuming, once she accustomed herself and relaxed in order to negate her gag reflex. His musky smell engulfed her.

Then he fucked her. He was bigger than Bill. Not longer, but his girth fascinated her. The way his cock stretched her reminded her of the way Bill would use his hands to stretch her out while licking her so lovingly. Thoughts of Bill swam together with the sensations of her lovers powerful thrusts, and she came. "Philadelphia" took this as a sign of his superior skill, and his thrusts became frantic. Stacy felt her body take over completely, and soon she was fucking back just as hard. She came again, and again.

"Philadelphia" was insatiable. He rebounded so quickly, Stacy wasn't sure she ever stopped fucking. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she fell asleep with a faint thought slipping through her mind.

"It's after midnight. It's our anniversary."

She woke up with a start, thinking she should call Bill. But it was late. "Philadelphia" was sound asleep, gently snoring beside her. She couldn't bring herself to talk to Bill in the presence of a lover. She would call in the morning.

Stacy missed her morning. She woke to the feeling of the previous nights' thick cock pressing against her asshole. She had never allowed anal with Bill, or with any of the lovers she had known before marrying. She pulled away with a start, and asked him to leave.

"But last night was beautiful! Let me love you today too. Wait, I'll call room service and order lunch. You'll feel better after eating."

"Lunch! What time...! Shit! I slept until 1:00! I have to call Bill! And you have to go!"

"You can't just leave me like this!"

She detested whiners, even naked whiners with attractive erections. She informed him under no uncertain terms that she had offered a quickie, and had fulfilled that promise, and it was time for him to go.

As he left, she turned her phone on. "Shit! 5 messages from Bill last night after midnight. 12 messages this morning. The 5 he left at noon were followed by a simple text. "Happy Anniversary?"

She quickly tapped out a return text. "Happy Anniversary, Honey! Can you talk now?"

No answer. She turned the sound up to full and dashed to the shower. No answer. She quickly washed away the evidence of last night's debauchery, and dried off while looking at her text screen. No answer. She brushed her teeth, and then her hair, and threw on clothing, then raced downstairs to meet with her prospective clients.

Her late morning cost her two such prospects. While she was sleeping off the effects of her all nighter, two prospects committed to a competitor. Worse yet, the conference was closing down after morning sessions. Who knows how many additional contracts she might have delivered. She still had enough to make the trip a success, but...no...it wasn't. She had slipped up with Bill. He loved wishing her happy birthday, Merry Christmas, even happy 4th of July at the stroke of midnight. What must he be thinking?

No answer. He never failed to answer a text from her within an hour, and it had been two. Sadly she packed her belongings and joined the exodus of conference attendees in the courtesy busses heading to the airport.

She tried to call. She tried to text. But there was no answer from her husband. Suddenly she her marriage might not survive, and she felt the weight of her guilt heavy on her shoulders. She arrived at the airport, only to find out there were delays nationwide due to a storm down south. Her plane was stranded on the tarmac in Tampa, waiting for strong winds to subside before continuing shuttling its human cargo first to Charlotte, then to Philadelphia where she would bore the home leg to Boston. Text after text, call after call, she longed to hear his cheery voice with an anniversary greeting. Finally, defeated, she sulked to the terminal bar to drown her in a little scotch and a lot of regret.

She was no sooner served than she felt a presence and was aware of a man sliding onto the stool beside her at the minuscule cocktail table. She hadn't looked up before his hand slid a small box in front of her. She looked up to see her husband's smiling eyes. The box held a beautiful locket with their wedding picture and an inscription that read "Forever."

"Happy Anniversary Stace."

Astonished that he was here, she flung her arms around him, feeling the guilt-weight vanish. He had heard about the storm on the news earlier in the day, and when they started talking about delays, he had hopped the southbound Acela from Boston.

''I knew I had a good chance of missing you, especially if the train was late and your plane didn't get delayed. But I figured I could call you here before you boarded if it looked bad. But the train was fast, and I caught the shuttle over here 5 minute after we arrived at 30th Street Station. So what do you say to spending our anniversary weekend in Philly? I have reservations for dinner and a room at a nice little boutique hotel downtown. Unless you'd rather spend it in an airport bar."

"How did you find me?"

"I bought a ticket to join you on your flight. That got me through the gate security, and since I had only a backpack for luggage, I breezed through. Then I hit the friend finder on our phones, and it pointed to you in the bar."

"Your phone was..."

"...off. Yeah I know. Sorry. After calling all night, I needed to get a couple of things done for work before I left the house. So I silenced it. I had to get to Logan with the car, so we can drive home. Then I had to take the "T" to South Station and just made my Acela. I spent the train ride on my IPad, so I never even thought of the phone. I didn't realize it was off until I got to the airport here. Sorry."

He didn't as why she didn't answer his texts and calls the last night. The guilt returned, and Stacy resolved that it would never happen again, and that she would be Bill's perfect woman forever after. And she was. Until Chicago.

Chicago was much shorter than Philadelphia. He was a feisty Italian, who drove a hard bargain one afternoon, six months after Stacy and Bill's anniversary. Chicago drove something hard that evening as well, and kept driving it into her all night. What he lacked in finesse, compared to Philadelphia, he made up in energy and rebound time.

It started at a meeting when they were negotiating a new sales contract. He and Stacy were the lead negotiators for their respective companies, and the talks were very contentious. Chicago's company had been displeased by delivery delays caused by a strike in the central manufacturing facility. Stacy's company was displeased by delays in payments. They both knew the other depended on them to meet the demands of their corporate leaders, so this being a struggle was a foregone conclusion. After a week of back and forth battles over the very complex contract, both sides agreed to terms. Relieved, Stacy had excused herself to call her legal department, and taken the opportunity to visit the ladies. Chicago had approached unseen, followed her into the ladies', locked the sore behind him and pinned Stacy to the sink counter.

The heat was mutual. Stacy wrapped her long legs around his waist as he dropped his pants. He tore a hole in her hose, ripped aside the gusset of her panties, and drove into her dripping cunt.

"Cunt. What a word," she remembered thinking. "I had always found the term demeaning and crude, but right now that's what it is. A cunt. Someplace for this asshole to, deposit his seed. That's what I am, something to fuck. And he is a prick. A prick for a cunt. He didn't get his way in the contract, so he thinks he can own me like this."

They dressed without a word, and returned to the meeting his management was less than pleased with the terms. They were about to renege on the agreement, but when Stacy stood to leave they caved. Stacy took a chance, and told them she was done for the day.

"I feel dirty and abused from this whole procedure. I'm going upstairs to clean up, and plan to treat myself to a fine dinner. I leave for the airport at 10:00 am tomorrow. I'll be at breakfast at 8:00. You can meet me there with a last chance offer. But don't waste my time. Bring something serious to the table."

They did. She smiled when Chicago sheepishly approached with what turned out to be a sweetheart deal. I was got a serious bonus, a hell of a boost to my reputation, and owned Chicago.

St. Louis was a stocky man, with a stocky cock. It stretched her until she roared. He was handsome, and became a valuable customer even before she slept with him. She saw Philadelphia again on a service call, and got together with Chicago two more times before she met Denver.

Denver took her home, where they were served dinner by his lovely wife. He signed her best contract of the year over before dinner drinks. Just when she was convinced this he been a legitimate business dinner, though in a client's home, he ordered his petite wife to strip, and service his guest. Stacy was uncomfortable as the tiny woman administered a world class massage right there at the table. The massage moved to the bedroom, where the little wife undressed Stacy while the husband watched from a comfy chair, cognac in hand. When Stacy was about to dress me leave, Denver stood, and undressed, revealing a gym chiseled body and long, slender cock. Stacy giving into her inner slut, lay back, opened her legs, and felt his clock slide in slowly. The wife moved in to lovingly tease Stacy with her gentle touches, licks of the nipples, and rubs of her clitoris while her husband steadily undulated his hips guiding his spear like shaft in and out until Stacy's back arched and she manned her pleasure into the eager open mother kiss of her client's wife.

Stacy added notches in her bedpost for San Diego, Dallas and Miami before reality set in. She was back in Philadelphia, and a delay in the conference had her working on her birthday. Deja Vu set in when she realized she had again missed her husband's call on a special event night.

It was 6 am the day after her birthday, and she finally called him back. It went right to voice mail, even though he was up and exercising by that time every day. She tried again at 7, when he usually sat down to breakfast, but again went straight to voice mail.

She cursed, and went to her call history and texts. He had called and texted vigorously until 8 pm the night before, then wondered why he stopped. She ordered room service, and woke Philadelphia from a very deep sleep. She admired his lean physique, then began to think of how poorly it compared to Bill's. She thought of each of the lovers she had taken in the last year, and considered how poorly they compared to the man she had at home.

She went down to breakfast with Philadelphia on her arm. He kissed her passionately in the elevator, and felt equal surges of lust and pride as the saw many people below watching him through the glass walls of the elevator car. Still pawing at her lot little lithe body, he hung on her as she led him to the breakfast cafe. There, in a table set up where she was certain he saw everything both in the car and walking to the cafe, sat Bill.

Her heart stopped. There sat her husband, the one nan that was better than any she knew, witnessing her infidelity first hand. His blue eyes bore right through her. Philadelphia sensed what was wrong, and quietly slunk away. Stacy didn't fear Bill. He wouldn't harm her. He didn't have to. He stood, dropped a twenty on the table, and exited the hotel without a word.

She knew it was over.

When she got home that afternoon, he was gone. His belongings were cleared out, and not a trace remained, except his wedding ring on his pillow. She was alone, and felt suddenly cold. She was home, but home wasn't really home without him.

He left without a word. She didn't hear from a lawyer. She didn't hear from his friends. There were no calls or texts. He answered no contacts from her. She traded him for a year of trysts where she compared "what's out there" with what she had at home. Bill had one. He was the best. And he was gone.

So she kept looking. Every night, she went out. She went to seedy bars. She went to classy clubs. She went to AA, even though she never drank, just to pick up guys.

Tonight was the night. Tonight she would find a guy as good as Bill. She walked into the bar with a sigh. It wasn't a busy night, and she almost turned around to go back home. Home. The word held different meaning these days. Things had changed. She had crossed an invisible line, and knew she couldn't go back.