Mixing Business with Pleasure

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Author’s Note: Apologies for the long story. I am still a newbie here. And it took a little while to get the build up to where the characters can actually have sex. Feedback is welcome.


Damn! I cursed loudly as I walked out of the elevator and saw the long line at the Starbucks in the lobby of my hotel.

My morning prep meeting had been advanced a half-hour and I had to be there in, like, 15 minutes. Waiting in line would be futile if I had to make the meeting, I had skipped breakfast and now perhaps will have to miss my customary Starbucks coffee as well. Stepping outside was out of the question as a light rain was falling as was predicted, but it was enough to keep people indoors. That explained the line in here. People are a patient lot, I thought to myself. Not me.

As I was weighing my options and absentmindedly looking at the people waiting, I did a quick double take. A woman standing fourth or fifth in line from the cashier kind of looked familiar. Her dark skin, her beautiful, long, thick, shiny black hair, short stature and her off-white pant suit made her stand out from the rest of the white folks in their regulation gray and black suits. I took another look. Could it be? I took a few steps towards her and, yes, she was who I thought she was!

I knew I had her number buried in my contacts somewhere. Man, it had been a while, and as I scrolled through my phone frantically trying to locate her name and number, thoughts flashed through my head. Damnit! What was her name? When did I last call or text her! I recall having it down as someone or the other’s ‘Mom’. When was the last time we met? It was definitely close to two years ago.

No, wait! Didn’t we run into each other about six months ago in our home town? There was a something about that incident. I couldn’t remember now exactly what it was. But yes. I was at the foodcourt at the mall, my family was shopping and I was streaming a FIFA World Cup match on my phone. I heard a familiar voice, “Hi! Puja’s dad!” I turned and instantly recognized her and said, “Hey, Anjali’s mom!”

That was it! I soon located her number in my Contacts list. Now to text her and ask her to get my coffee for me.

I texted: “Hi Anjali’s mom. This is Puja’s dad. Line’s too long. Could u get a coffee for me pls?”

I hit ‘Send’ and looked at her, waiting for a reaction. She had her phone in her hand, and it must had dinged or vibrated. She looked at it, and swiped to read the message. It took a few seconds for the message to sink it. Or she must have re-read the message. She looked up and around, here and there, and finally spotted me waving my hand. It took her another couple of seconds to place me, and then the recognition spread across her face. She waved, pointed to the coffee counter and tilted her head as if asking what I wanted.

I texted: “Tall, dark roast, black. No milk. Apple Cinnamon scone. Heated. Pls. Ty”

She looked down at her phone, read my message and texted her reply. “Of course. Do you want fries with that? LOL ;-)” And she smiled as I read her reply and looked up at her.

I had a few minutes to reflect on our so-called friendship as I waited for her. Our daughters had gone to the same Y to learn swimming, and for dance lessons at the same dance school and so we had the chance to meet at least twice a week, if not more. She was comely and her demeanor was always calm and outgoing, and that was what encouraged me to strike up conversations with her. Unlike other parents, she was not one to bury her nose in a phone or tablet and ignore others and while away the time waiting for their kids. She was always eager to talk, and also listen. She was a bit timid and shy during our first couple of meetings. But became more and more comfortable as we started meeting frequently at the different locations. We became more relaxed when we found we had some common interests – Bollywood movies and music and singing. We exchanged tracks and videos of songs over WhatsApp, and sometimes even funny links, and helped each other out occasionally when we had scheduling conflicts in picking up and dropping off kids. But these meetings stopped as kids grew older. So did the messaging. Fortunately I still had her number on my phone.

She walked over with a cup of coffee in each hand to where I was standing.

“Here you go!” she said, smiling, and showing a row of magnificently white and perfect teeth. She had stunning bright red lipstick on her thin (but not too thin) lips. My heart skipped a beat.

“Thanks a lot for the coffee, and stuff” I started.

“Not at all. Fancy meeting you here. A long way from home for both of us. It’s been a while, no?” she replied.

“Yeah. Maybe, what? Two years?” I waited for her rebuttal. And was pleasantly surprised and pleased when she remembered out last meeting, like I had.

“No, not that long. I think it was less than a year, surely. We met at the mall, remember? More like six months ago,” she said, obviously thinking of me, or us, during canlı bahis her wait.

Wow! She remembers, I thought to myself. Did she remember ALL of it? It was like five minutes that we chatted, and she remembers THAT?

I made some small talk, “So, shopping alone?”

“Yes! At last been able to get away from kids and Aakash. I have this afternoon to myself. How about you?”

I said, “No such luck for me. Driving the family around.”

She was smiling at my answer. She tried to look relaxed, but she was nervously swinging her shopping bag in her hand and it was kind of distracting. It made me reflexively take a quick look at what the bag was, and the pervert that I am, I noticed it was a Victoria’s Secret bag. Instantly images of all kinds of panties – full back, thongs, lacy, G-String, boy shorts, and different bras raced through my head, interlaced of course with images of her wearing them. Fuck! I quickly looked away, and then up at her. I noticed that she noticed me looking at the bag. Was she able to read my mind and thoughts? She instantly stopped swinging her bag, and quickly asked, “So, what are you watching? Oh! Soccer. What’s with men these days? Soccer, Soccer all the time!”

“Well, the World Cup comes once in four years you know. Hey, want to sit down, have a bite to eat?”

“No,” she said. “Have more shopping to do. Shoes, this time,” she smiled brightly at me. “Bye now!” She turned and walked away.

I stared at her back (and her beautiful ass) as she twisted her way between the tables and vanished from view. But not before I had enough time to:

1) Have the images of her fantastic, full, tight, jeans covered ass, her thick thighs and shapely calves etched in my memory. (I embellished these images with a hint of a panty line under there when I happily recalled this meeting.)

2) Notice that her bra was black and that it was firmly against her back, making a deep impression in the cotton T-shirt she was wearing, and clearly outlining the shape of her breast from the side.

And not before she turned back one last time, and smiled brilliantly again when she saw me looking at her.

No guesses on who or what I was fantasizing about that night. While having sex with my wife. Or was it while jerking off in the bathroom?

“You have changed,” she said, shaking me from my reverie.

“What now?” I said, coming back to the present.

“Sorry. You look different. You hair. Have you lost weight. Looks like you have,” she said, still looking right at me and making eye contact.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Well, my hair doesn’t grow anymore, so I have a buzz cut now. Easy to maintain, and cheap as well.” She giggled softly at this. I continued, “And I am on the Keto diet. All Protein, low carbs. And working out and Yoga as well. So it feels good. I feel good. A lot of people have noticed the change.”

“Yes, it shows, actually. You look real good.”

I am a pervert, remember? She was good looking. Not too plump, not too thin either. She had a short sleeve blouse on, showing a generous amount tight well defined upper arms and forearms. Her shoulders were rounded. Her breasts were small but pushing against the front of her blouse. The top button was unfastened. She had her bag slung over her shoulder and its weight pulled one side of her blouse down. I could see a pink bra peeking between the buttons. The sunlight streaming from the large windows that made up one side of the lobby wall turned her top transparent and her body and skin and the pink of her bra showed through the fabric. I could smell her perfume even with two cups of coffee near us. It was intoxicating.

I should confess here. Yes, I had fantasized about her back in the days we were acquainted. And also for a while even after we lost touch, I recalled. Yes, I made up fantasies about almost all the ladies (and some girls, as well) I met. At the Y, at dance school, wives of friends, whoever, wherever. Oh yes, I used to think about her a lot, no doubt about that. I looked forward to dropping my kids off at dance and the Y, excited at the thought of getting a chance to meet her, and probably other young moms, and chatting them up. Those were good memories. She definitely had a starring role in many of my jerk-off sessions. But as time passed by, she was replaced by other women and girls in my sexual fantasies. But It was sacrilege to even think about initiating an affair or sex with such family acquaintances. But one could dream. And one could masturbate..

Things were coming back to me in a rush. I recall helping Anjali’s mom (still couldn’t come up with her name!) with a fence at their house that had fallen during a severe storm. Her husband, Aakash, had given up after a while as he pulled some muscle in his back. She and I were working close to each other, sometimes even brushing against each other, purely accidentally, as we followed Aakash’s directions around the yard. I managed numerous looks down her T-shirt, at the tops of her soft breasts and at her cleavage. And at at her bahis siteleri panty that was visible above the waistline of her Capris as she sat down. At the wedgie made by her panty on her ass cheeks as she stood. At her flat belly exposed as she raised her hands to wipe the sweat off of her brow. Once, she tripped on a flower pot and almost fell if not for me. I put my arm out and stopped her fall. My forearm cushioned her soft breasts, my other hand held her arm as she leaned against me. She reached out, put her hands on my chest and forearm to stop herself from falling. It was just a for a couple of seconds, and I pushed her upright and she righted herself. She quickly looked up at me and said, “Thanks,” and then looked to see if Aakash saw what just happened. But he was inside getting an iced tea or some such. Man! I held those images in my mind for a very long time as I remember. Those were good times. But outwardly, there was nothing close to explicitly sexual or physical in our interactions.

“So do you,” I said unexpectedly, brushing my thoughts away with great difficulty. She had put on a little weight, and it showed on her face a bit. But she still looked strikingly pretty.

She laughed softly. “Well, thanks. I watch what I eat, and you know, try and work out at home.” She appeared slightly embarrassed at the attention I was paying her, particularly about her body and looks.

What was she, early or mid thirties? I had married late and so the kids came late. My wife and I were usually the oldest parents at the soccer field, swimming meet, dance competitions and what have you. I had at least fifteen years on her.

She suddenly changed the subject, “Are you in one of these conferences? These are sooo boring. I have a couple of days more.”

“Oh yeah!” I said. “Green Conference on Building Energy and Environment!”

“Bearing Specialists Conference’ for me,” she said, laughing. “You know what? Let’s grab lunch. I hardly know anybody here. It’ll be a change talking to someone you know.”

“Great Idea!” I said. “Text me when you are free and we’ll meet. It’ll be good to catch up.”

“Cool. Bye then,” she said, and turned and walked away.

As she swung her bag to her front and looked down into it, I could see her beautiful behind. Her slacks pressed tightly against her ass cheeks and made her panty line clearly visible, and left nothing to the imagination. Well, a lot to the imagination actually. She had a boyshorts type of panty on, and I could distinctly make out the bands that went around her cheeks and thighs. The panty and slacks cupped her butt alluringly. As she walked, I could make out the cleft on her legs, up where her thick thighs met her butt cheeks, and the way her ass cheeks bounced and swayed had my heart beating a lot faster. Her white blouse clung to her body and was stretched on her waist and hips. She stopped and put her bag down and put her jacket on. She adjusted her hair and her jacket one more time, bent down and picked her bag and walked on.

I realized I was holding my breath all along as I watched her walking away. I was staring at her back until she stepped on the escalator. All of a sudden, she turned back to look at me. I tried to look away in time, but I could not. Still, did she make me out? I let out a deep breath. Probably. And she was probably used to have men check her out. So what the hell.

I also had a throbbing boner in my pants. God! It will be nice to have lunch with her.

Who am I kidding? It will be fucking great to get out of the conference and have her sitting next to me, lunch or no lunch. It will be nice to be with her. Won’t it be nice to have her? Oh shit! I had a boner! Fuck the meeting! Fuck!

I waited a long time for my erection to subside. Anjali’s mom, come back to me! Please!

The presentations during the first hour and half before the break were excruciatingly boring and painful.

I texted Anjali’s mom: Hi. u want 2 know abt Hybrid Polymer electrolyte for LiO2 batteries? Fantastic presentation here. lmk.

No reply. Thirty minutes later. No reply. An hour later. Still no reply. Damn! She forgot! How could she? How about lunch? What if she forgets?

It was close to the lunch break when my phone buzzed. She responded!

She: Sorry. At booth. Ya? How abt new tech on Pillow Block and Mounted Bearings. Sales going thru roof? C’mon over. LOL

Me: lunch?

She: c u. get a table.

I was an asshole, a prick, a pervert. But man, did I long for another look at her. I rushed out and got ourselves strategically located. I got a table a bit farther away from the buffet spread. That way I could watch her going and coming.

I was not disappointed. As soon as I saw her come in to the dining room, I picked up my phone and faked a phone call. I waved to her and she saw me and walked towards me. I pretended to talk on the phone. When she reached the table, I put my hand over my phone and said, “Hi. Crap. Have to take this call. I already got food. Go get yours?”

“Oh! bahis şirketleri OK!” she said, dumping her bag and stuff on the unoccupied chair. She then took off her jacket and put it around her chair, and walked to the buffet.

Heaven. I was rewarded with an exhilarating view of her beautiful behind. Her ass cheeks swayed and danced and made music. Her pant was as tight as I remembered from the morning. Her boyshorts panty clearly outlined. But this time, one side of her panty had ridden up more than the other. Motherfucker! I wanted to go to her, put my hands inside her pants, grab a hold of her ass checks and set the panty straight.

She walked back carrying her tray and was examining and looking down at her food all the way. Her small, firm boobs danced in sync with her walk. They jiggled up, down and then settled with each of her steps. The fabric of her top was so sheer, I could see her body and bra and cleavage, and the shape of her breasts from where I was sitting. The bright lights in the dining hall outlined the shape of her. Her slim waist, down to her wide hips, a bit of fat just above the waistline. Her thighs were hard and thick beneath her pants.

My cock responded immediately like it did in the morning. I was getting an erection. Oh! How sweet it felt! I almost came. I was so desperate.

I finally ended my call as she put her plate down and settled to eat.

She started, “You know what is funny? I know you’ll think it’s corny.”

“No. What?” I asked.

“I put you down as Puja’s dad in my phone. I forgot your name, actually!”

I laughed loudly at this, “What? You too?”

“What!” she laughed along with me.

“Wait!” I said, calming down. “I have you as Anjali’s mom. Your name’s not coming to me either!” I laughed again.

“OK, OK. It’s Meghna,” she giggled.

“Oh yes. Now I remember. My daughter used to called you Megan Aunty! Yes. I am Vikas, by the way. Pleased to meet you!”

“Likewise. Yes, yes. Vikas Patel. Now I remember. Man, that’s crazy,” she added.

I wanted to drink her in. I wanted to wipe my memory clean and fill it with her images, at least for the next few days. Whenever she looked away from me, my eyes were all over her body, lapping in her hair, face, mouth, lips, cheeks, chest, cleavage, bra, hands, fingers. No guesses again for what or who I will be fantasizing about tonight!

I had a funny feeling that she was checking me out as well. You know, you get a feeling that someone is looking at you and you look up and catch someone actually looking at you? I was standing at the buffet spread and suddenly I felt her eyes on me. I quickly looked up at Meghna, and there she was, staring at me. Our eyes met for a millisecond and then she looked away. There was definitely something going on there. We had reconnected after a gap of about two years but now it seemed it was like yesterday. I easily slipped into being comfortable with her. I was sure the feeling was mutual.

I had the rest of the afternoon planned out. With some luck, she and I would be spending it together. I had no end game. I had no idea how it would play out after, though. No plans for the evening or night. Yet.

I started, confidently, “You know, I was reading about this area, and it has quite a bit for the tourist.”

“This place?” she said quizzically. “I can only see hotels and conference centers.”

“No. Not here. We’d have to go to the outskirts, a bit farther out. Beautiful monuments, museums, etc.”

“We?” she asked again.

“Well. I was thinking of skipping the conference the rest of the afternoon. The hotel arranges tours. I was going to hop on one of those.”

“You are going to skip the conference? Why?”

“One – It’s boooring. Two – all I needed to know about Hybrid Polymer electrolytes I already learnt in school. And three…”


“Three – I was hoping you’d like to come too,” I waited for her response.

She took her time. “Me? You want me to join you in this?”

“Why not? Haven’t you had your fill of willow book bearing sales or whatever?”

She laughed, “Pillow Block and Mounted Bearings, silly”.

“Well. What about it?”

She was silent and thoughtful for a while. Then she said, “Screw it. I will come. It better be good. Actually anything should be better than these afternoon sessions!”

“Just one thing, though,” I said, not wanting to dampen her spirits. “I need to be back by 6:30 for a awards dinner. Have to sit with my team, assigned seats etc. But it should be fine. We can be back by that time.”

“OK. No problem,” she responded.

The next four hours were magical.

I told you I had it all planned out. I made sure Meghna and I were the only ones on the tour. I changed into khakis and a polo shirt to show off my muscled arms and chest and my flat (not yet six pack) abs. She came in a form fitting jeans that accentuated the curves of her ass, and hips. It was almost painful to tear my eyes away from the way her jeans cupped her butt cheeks. The fit of her polo shirt showed off her waist to hip ratio. The V or her shirt had no buttons and made no secret of her cleavage and breasts. Her heeled open-toed pumps raised and tightened her calves and thighs beneath her jeans.

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