The Company Trip

The year is 1991 and I am a 35 year old guy working at a prestigious office furniture dealership in New York City. Got married six years ago to the girl of my dreams, a thoroughbred aristocrat from Cambridge, England...daughter of a baronet and a medical doctor...an English DO. Astra is every man's dream, tall and elegant, sophisticated and brilliant, cultured and very posh...but more than that, she looks like an angel, creamy complexion, soft eyes, eternal smile on wide luscious lips, a big upright bust on a slender athletic frame, and five feet ten inches tall. She is one of those rare women who is stunning but doesn't know it, is smart but doesn't make others uncomfortable...a lady in public and a temptress in the bedroom.

Our first child was born early last year and Astra tore badly upon birth, our lovemaking put on a back burner ever since. I have not pressed her for sex and bide my time to permit her to heal physically and regain her libido emotionally. I am a great husband, attentive, loyal, loving, and currently making a huge income.

I have lived five lives, and if you believe as the Hindu's do, I have probably had my soul recycled a dozen times. I have my Ph.D. in 19th century English lit as well as two other lesser degrees. I fell into this business by accident and am way over educated and qualified, but that is also a big part of my success. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, the son of highly accomplished parents. I travelled the world and did well at school. I have no fear of reaching out to corporate CEO's to open a dialogue, gain their trust, design their space and make the sale. To this end I have a huge following and almost never cold call. Clients seek out my expertise and the pleasure and confidence in doing business with me.

The managers of my organization have been invited by our primary manufacturer, Steelcase, to take a four day symposium at Disneyworld of all places. I book my own room, fully paid, and buy an additional ticket for my wife and one year old. I extend my visit to an entire week, the final three days at my own expense. At the last moment, Francesca gets an ear infection and mother and daughter cancel. This will be my first trip without them and I am forced to stay the entire week as cancelling costs more than staying. Well, it is the Polynesian Hotel and Disney, after all. Why should I regret the joy of a short vacation?

There are literally about three hundred of us from all over the country at this event and I sit through the rather dull lectures and go out at night for dinner with friends. I realize that Disney is not so great as a single...no point in whooping it up on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride without a date or a child in tow. I therefore do not visit the park and just use the hotel and facilities.

The final evening of the four day fete, we are invited to Pleasure Island, the adult venue on the grounds with several nightclubs, discos, comedy clubs and bars. My friends, most of whom think me a pompous married asshole who never stops praising my wife and the institution of marriage, are determined to get me drunk and in trouble this final night. Few, except upper management are staying additional days at the hotel so this is the final night for most.

A couple of cocktails and several beers later I am standing before a revolving dance floor, strobe lights aflickering, music pounding, my suit and tie too hot for this environment. I don't normally drink so much and I am definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. I steady myself and my six foot frame by holding on to a balustrade at the dance floor's edge and watch the dancing from a short distance. My eyes are not quite focused on anything, but suddenly I am aware that there are a lot of good looking women about, especially on that dance floor. I focus.

It takes about a minute for the floor to turn full circle and those who catch my eye to swing before my gaze once again. Everyone seems to have a date or at least a dance partner. I am not available, so am not looking with an eye to attract anybody, but as I am Italian, my eyes have lives of their own and I watch the T&A fly past without missing a beat. Another beer is thrust into my hands. Is this number four, I wonder?

The tall gal with the great legs and a dress which decidedly shows them off keeps passing. She catches my eye and smiles at me, raising her arms up over her head and facing me as her hips gyrate and her bust shimmies. I take notice but show no reaction. Around she comes again and I can tell she is looking straight at me through almost 180ndegrees of the dance floor's turn. Her dancing becomes more erotic as she passes this second or third time. I stand there and wish I was dancing too. She looks like she would be a great partner, very sexy, very beautiful, and probably about my age. She passes again and motions for me to join her.

I can't. I'm married...very happily married. And I'm drunk...very happily drunk. I'm a new father and an officer of my company surrounded by my employees. I cannot let temptation have its effect. The dance floor revolves again, but she's no longer there, in that spot ten feet deep into the dancing. Where did she go? Then a hand comes at my chest from the edge of the turning circle. She'd moved to the edge and I'd been focusing elsewhere. She threaded her fingers through my jacket and grabbed my tie and pulled gently, allowing the tie to slip through her fingers as she rotated away with the others. I looked up from my now released tie and she blew me a kiss. Her lips were curled as the kiss hit me from a distance, her features were slender and fine...very different from Astra. My wife was an angel, this girl was sin. She looked like Christie Turlington, aquiline, carved into shape by a master sculptor, sweaty, hungry, representative of her sex. I turned away and walked ten steps to a column, surrounded by a banquette. I sat, perched high, and drank from my beer bottle.

Shit...that was scary, I thought. That girl and I really connected. I am bad. I am not available so why did I just do that? Then, as I groaned my disgust and considered my failings as a husband, a hand slid up my shirt and grabbed my tie once again. I looked up and there she was, standing over me, looking down. The fact that she was above me, taller than me, immediately put me at a disadvantage.

"Why did you sit down?" She asked. "I was certain you'd be dancing with me after the fifth spin."

I said nothing, just looked up into her eyes...invitation sent but not accepted, I thought. Oh God, she's good looking. I was entranced and looked straight at her mouth...at her lips. Then she licked them, slowly and with purpose, and my eyes travelled up to hers. She was smiling a smile of victory...of satisfaction. She was one of those women who knows exactly what men are thinking when she is on display.

I stood quickly to gain advantage...if only through my height. I turned and said abruptly, "have a seat," and nearly pushed her down into the cushion I'd just occupied. Holy shit! I had just touched her. Not only touched her but did so abruptly and with force, grabbing her shoulders, swinging her around and dumping her on the chair. She looked up at me now, smiling ear to ear, another victory, another accomplishment in this dance of libidos. She knew she'd made me take a step in her direction. I looked down. Her shoulders were bare, her dress held up by her bust, which until now, I'd not noticed. She had a single large red rose planted between her breasts, the stem, hopefully with thorns removed, dipping down her bodice.

"Nice flower," I said, thinking to myself that I had to at least be polite. I could not stand here like some dork and just undress her in my mind's eye. I had to compliment her for choosing me and then gently let her off the hook. Do I tell her now that I am married? No...bad calling card. No reason for that as yet. Nothing has happened.

She looks down at the flower and then up again at me. "You like it? I thought it was a beautiful Rose." She pulls it out and she places the stem between her teeth and then taking hold of either side of her bust, she pushes her tits up and together within her brassiere. Then, still looking at my eyes, eyes which are focused on her tits, not her face, she smiles and hands me the flower.

I shake my head, as if I can ward off this dream...make her go away...protect whatever innocence I think I might own. But she is handing me the rose and I take it and twirl it between my fingers, then lift it to my nose and take a deep breath. Fuck...why did I do that? I'm escalating this, aren't I? No...I just sniffed her flower, that's all...what...oh Jeez.

She smiles and quickly stands. In her heels she has no trouble reaching up to me and she places her lips on my own and gives me a quick kiss, dry and chaste, but inviting as all hell. I freeze and she pulls back and looks into my eyes. She laughs. She laughs again and raises one hand up to her face to cover her lips. "Man are you shy." She says. "You look like a little boy in a candy store and you're making me feel very sexy, let me tell you."

She threads her arm through mine and says, "Come on then, let's dance."

I am not dragged onto the dance floor against my will. I walk willingly, my drunken haze diminished and my legs falling in place. Now this is a challenge. I'm no little boy, I think. I was a regular at Studio 54 in New York, dammit. You'll not best me no matter how sexy you are, I think.

The Michael Jackson song segs into Bette Midler's Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy and she screams some sort of victory cheer and hurls herself at me, legs sped wide and wrapping herself around my midsection, ankles tied tight behind my back. I bend backwards to take her weight but she doesn't weigh much of anything and I twirl her around several times, holding her arms and as she throws her head back in reckless abandon. We fly through the steps and my face breaks into a real grin as I realize she is a great dancer and knows what she's doing. Everyone is looking at us and room is made for our gymnastic dancing. I think I can see colleagues all lined up at the border of the dance floor standing with mouths gaping and pointing. Fuck it. This is the first fun I've had in four days and I'm just dancing. I'm sure we look good.

The song ends and she woops another cheer. "Woo-hoo," and she looks up at me and says "My name's Debbie."

"Bill," I say...coming up with the most innocuous name I can think of that isn't my own.

"You are hot Bill...a great dancer. I knew you would be. You're so tall and good looking."

"Thanks Debbie. Want to sit the next one out?"

"Are you kidding? Never. My week's been one dull moment after another and I'm not releasing you tonight. Not a chance."

Linda Ronstadt started Blue Bayou and the mood and tempo slowed to a crawl. She thread her legs either side of one of mine and nuzzled in close. Holy shit...real close, and I took note that we fit together like a glove. Oh my god. She pressed herself up against me and we rocked back and forth, back and forth, her sex pushed up tight against my leg. I loved this song and Ronstadt knew how to be sexy singing it but this girl was undulating to the music and I was already erect down my leg. I knew she could feel it. I just knew. "Mmmm." She moaned into my ear.

I swept my hand across her back and pulled her torso into me and she cooed again as I placed it just above her ass in the small of her back, my middle finger filling the crease at the top of her rear end.

"Mmmm," she moaned again as she ground herself into me. I swear I thought I felt her shudder and pulled apart a bit to look in her eyes. She was completely in a fog, her eyes out of focus and her upper teeth biting down on her lower lip. Oh my God. She just had an orgasm. Oh my God...she just came against my leg. I know it!!

She placed her head up against me and breathed deeply, I could feel her breath against my neck, replaced a moment later by her lips and she kissed me. Whatever resolve I had just disappeared and I made up my mind that dancing in public was okay, no matter how hot it was, I could do this and it wasn't cheating so long as it did not escalate to anything else.

We danced and danced without ever taking a break. At 3AM the lights went on and the place started to empty. The bar called for last rounds and I had another beer and then drank hers as well. I was completely dehydrated. We stepped out into the night. There was a long line at the exit and Disney personnel were questioning each guest as they left. They asked me where I was staying. "The Polynesian," I answered. They asked a few more questions and then said, "I'm sorry sir but you must leave your rental car here and let us take you back to your hotel. You are in no condition to drive."

Debbie smiled a breathtaking smile and said to the young people, "I'll get him back safely. I'm staying at the Swan tonight and know the way."

"Is that okay with you sir?" They asked. I acquiesced and followed her to her car...not a rental, but a Mercedes 350SL. She drove and we chatted about inane things. The music had trumped our limited conversation and I really knew little, if anything, about her. We arrived at my hotel. I turned to her and said my thanks...a little too quickly but I was making my getaway, opened the door and fell on my face in the driveway. I laughed and laughed as I was lifted to my feet by the bellman, thinking that I'd never been so drunk and still conscious. Debbie told the bellman that she would help me back to my room and to just park her car off to the side and she would return in ten minutes. As we started our way she looked at me and said "Hold on a moment Bill," and she ran back ten steps to the valet and had a word. He drove the car into the lot and not just to the side as she'd requested before.

We made our way to my bungalow, lost in a sea of similar dwellings and I was glad she had me in tow and could see where she was going. Having arrived, I struggled to put the key in the door and then turned to her and she launched herself into me for a big hug. I said goodnight.

"Goodnight?" she looked puzzled. "Goodnight?"

"Yes," I said. "We both agreed that with significant others at home, this would end with the dancing, didn't we?"

"Look sweetie. I've invested my whole evening in you and I'm not letting you off the hook until your nice big cock has spent its piece a couple times in me. I am going to eat you alive and then you are going to learn the meaning of the word tight."

What the fuck!! "Hey...ain't gonna happen. We discussed this."

She raised her voice and I was straightening up from my drunken haze. "You are letting me in your room handsome. You know what I want...what I crave." And she slid her hand over my crotch.

"Shhh...keep it down. Look, I'm here on a junket with my parent company. In that room is Ron White, president of Apex International, and in that room is Stan Goetz, CEO of BDI. I can't have you waking them up." I said this while pointing at the two adjoining rooms, right and left.

"Well fuck Ron and fuck Stan. You're mine tonight honey and I'll not take no for an answer."

I was freakin'. What was I to do? "Look...last time Debbie. I am a happily married man and have a young daughter. I'll not break my vows. I'll not cheat. I am determined to remain true and loyal and you'll get nowhere...got it?"

Her expression changed and I felt that my words had the desired effect.

"Will you kiss me goodnight then?"

Oh thank God. A kiss. That I can do to make her go away. "Okay...one kiss."

She stepped right up to me and turned her head sideways into my chest, sliding her hands up to my neck. I could feel her heartbeat and smell her fragrance...not perfume...sex. Oh God. Taking a deep breath was a mistake. What had nature planted in this woman to strip down my defenses? This was taking a whole lot of willpower. I'd not made love in 18 months or more. I was horny as hell. But I was not taking the next step. I was not.

She turned her head and looked deep into me. Her eyes closed part way and her brows angled down. Oh shit she's giving me the look. She's using all her arts. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth up against mine. I kept my mouth closed, but that did not stop her. She smothered me in her sex and five minutes later we were still having that kiss. I knew right away that she would swallow my cock, she would play with my cum, she would take my prick deep up her ass. She would have multiple orgasms and make me feel better about myself as a lover than I'd felt in a long time. A kiss does that. It is so intimate that it reveals what is to follow. I knew she was oral and had no taboos. I knew she wanted to be a plaything and would thrive on making me feel great. I knew she was visual and would always look the part as she played the part. I had a slave at my disposal. I could do anything I wanted to her and she would love it. Fuck!!

We disengaged and I could see in her eyes that she was celebrating another victory. She had me. She had won her battle. Bullshit. "Goodnight Debbie."

She looked at me in shock, her eyes opening wide. She was about to say something but evidently changed her mind. She said "Goodnight," then turned and started walking away.

Phew...that was close.

"Bill." Uh oh...now what. She hadn't taken ten steps. "Bill...I've got to pee. May I come in to pee, please. Then I promise I'll go."

I couldn't say no. "Sure...come in."

She ran into the bathroom and I fell flat on my back on one of the two queen beds. The room was spinning. I pulled off my tie, then sat up and wiggled out of my jacket. Man was I fucked up.

I lay there thinking about how proud I was that I was able to resist this siren...this incredible representative of female sexual power and prowess. Wow, did I feel good.

Then I heard it. Not a toilet flush...the shower...she turned on the shower, I was certain. Could it be from the next room? I placed my ear on the wall and could hear nothing. I jumped up and repeated this on the other wall...nothing. I took five steps to the bathroom door and it swung open and there she was, wiping away the droplets of water with a towel. Now the towel was on the floor. Oh my fuckin' God. She's naked and two feet away. Look at her breasts and tummy and legs. And she is shaved down there, and now clean and sweet and I'm going to die.

My heart was in my mouth and I literally jumped the first bed and picked up the phone and hit zero. "There's an intruder in my room" I screamed. Send up security. She panicked. Her face just dropped. I suppose she never expected that response to all this display of minge. She was a piece of candy. How could I say no?

Debbie was dressed and out the door in about two minutes and security never came because I'd never really dialed the phone. Once out the door I threw up. Was it the alcohol or the panic? I'll never be sure. I could not sleep...too much spinning.

The next morning I went to the hotel pool around ten, hung-over and desperate for reclamation. I sat beside my friend Rick on a chaise and groaned hello through my headache. "Hey Rick."

"Holy shit dude...I can't believe you. Who was that fuckin hot babe you were with last night? Oh my God, what a piece of ass. Did you land her? Did you get her back to your room?"

I looked at him in disbelief. "You saw her? When...where?"

"Oh man...at Pleasure Island at the nightclub. You two were doing the lambada something fierce. I mean it was totally sex with clothes on. You gave every guy in the place a boner."

I got up and said goodbye and walked to the other end of the pool and sat beside Gail Hekstrom...senior VP of architectural and design services at Steelcase, 73 years old, and the least likely to take notice of anything or anyone.

"HI Chris."