Pink Cocktails

 There are some individuals in your life that will always have a shortcut to the person you are deep inside; that person you used to be before you grew up and acquired that polish, the hard layer that covers who you once were. For me it’s this guy who I went to school with for two years like a thousand years ago - we were real good friends back then… friends with quite a lot of sexual tension. The years have gone and we haven’t had a lot of contact, but also never quite lost track of each other. 

It’s the day after my birthday and I’ve decided to take a weekend off from my regular life - I have a whole long weekend ahead of me in the capital and I’m going to stay at a hotel (oh, I just LOVE staying at a hotel - it makes everything feel a little bit more luxurious… and yes, I am fully aware that I probably wouldn’t say the same thing if I was a traveling salesman, but I’m not.) There are three, almost four long days stretching in front of me and I look forward to just doing whatever I feel like, without having to compromise. 

We’ve arranged to meet to celebrate that I am yet another year older and even though it’s quite some time since we last saw each other we immediately fall into the regular chit-chat, it feels so good to see him and we’re strolling along the streets towards the hotel where I’ll be living during my stay. Stubborn as I am I insist on carrying my own bags and he knows me too well to try to convince me otherwise. A short stop for something to eat and drink before continuing to my hotel - we catch up on how the family is doing and what’s going on at work… and when we continue towards the hotel I actually ask him to carry one of my bags. The man is in terribly good shape, I notice how the muscles in his arm move when he lifts the luggage and I have to keep myself in check not to reach out and run my fingers over those arms. 

We arrive at my hotel a little too early, but the receptionist tells me that the room is ready. Being the polite guest that I am, I ask if it’s okay that I bring my carrier along to the room and the receptionist smiles and nods, sure thing. We step into the elevator and in the small area the air suddenly feels electrified, but I’m not sure if it’s just me or if he feels it too. I don’t want to overstep and make everything uneasy, now when all is running so smoothly. The elevator ride is short, but enough to make me a bit nervous all of a sudden… and it’s not that I’ve got a problem with elevators - it’s just that I’m so very aware of his body, so near, so VERY near…

I take a deep breath and focus on the room numbers painted on the wall when we step out of the elevator, according to the arrows my rooms will be on the right. We follow the hallway to where it turns and there it is: my home for the next three nights. The door opens and reveals a big and airy room, two big windows to the street and a king size bed. He puts my bag down on the floor and I admire the view of that tight arse for a second before I realize that he’s looking at me with a lopsided smirk - oh, he knows what I’ve been looking at and he doesn’t seem to mind much. He lets his eyes roam over my body, looking pretty appreciating - and he doesn’t step back when I close the distance between us, I’m now standing way, WAY too close for every social distancing rule… too close for anyone, except lovers. There are just a couple of centimetres of air separating our bodies - and the distance is closing quickly when we both lean in and our lips meet for a kiss.  

Again I have to try and keep myself in check, I would love to just grab the man, throw him down on the bed and fuck him silly… but no, that’s not what we’re doing here. Damn it, we’re both married and quite happily so - it’s just this exceptional sexual tension, it’s always been there and apparently it hasn’t disappeared over all those years. For a minute or so we just stand there and I breathe in his scent, inhaling deeply… before taking a step back. 

“I need to pee.” I smile and turn around, stepping into the cool bathroom. Placing my hands on the basin I lean my forehead towards the mirror and try to cool down. I look at my reflection and take a couple of deep breaths before I sit down on the toilet. Normal. This is normal. I sit a little longer than necessary to collect myself before I get up and wash my hands. Inhale. Exhale. Normal. I meet my own eyes in the mirror and I almost laugh out loud. Right. I am horny as hell, but sure - normal. I can do this, normal is what I do day in and day out.

He is standing by the window when I return to the room. 

“You ready? I thought I’d buy you a pink drink to celebrate your birthday.”

“Absolutely! I can hardly wait to get myself a pink cocktail.”

It’s a good thing the elevator ride is so brief when we go back down to the reception area, because I haven’t quite gotten that normal into my body yet. On the contrary, my body still wants to press up against him and make out - but by now my head is back in charge. 

We’re strolling along the streets and I am fascinated that there are so, relatively speaking, few people around. It is after all Friday afternoon and normally people should be on their way home after a week's work - or heading to after work for a drink with their colleagues before going back home to the family. I’ve got no idea where we are going, but I obediently tag along and when he stops and ushers me inside a restaurant I decide it is a good idea to let him lead the way. We sit down at a table in a corner where we can talk and study the people passing by and while I act like the country girl I am, gawping at the chic people rushing by, he orders us a glass of champagne each. It really feels like the very first sip just rushes to my head - and out in every limb. I’m tingling - but to be perfectly honest I don’t think I can blame it all on the bubbly wine. We talk and laugh and when there’s no more champagne left we move on to pink wine and then pink drinks. I’m having a great time, but I honestly cannot remember a thing we talk about… That sexual tension, the electricity in the air, is still very much a thing - almost like a third person at the table, a completely quiet, yet very loud person… 

I leave the table once to visit the ladies room - and this, I’ll tell you, is a good way to find out whether you are too drunk or if there’s still room for some more pink cocktails. It’s a bit like finding one's way through a labyrinth and I manage very well, thank you! While washing my hands I study my face in the mirror. My cheeks are a bit more pink than usual and I’ve got a silly smile on my lips - but apart from that I look pretty normal. A deep breath and I roll back my shoulders before returning through the labyrinth of stairs and odd hallways. At the table there’s a new fancy and pink cocktail waiting and we resume the conversation, a little bit of flirting and studying people passing by. 

It’s true what they say - that time flies when you’re having a good time. I know only too well that I’ll have to let you return home to your family very soon and yes, it’s now time to pay the bill and start walking towards the metro. First, though, another visit to the ladies and this time he takes the opportunity to do the same. It’s a good thing I’ve already scouted the place and I lead the way through those confusing hallways, turns and stairs - and it is thanks to those stairs I finally feel his hands stroking my thigh lightly under the skirt. I want to stop time and just relish in the sensation, his hands on my skin, up over my bum… and it is only the fact that there are other people around, moving to and from the toilettes that stops me from pushing him up against the wall and make out with him right there and then. We kiss, allowing the moment to extend just a little bit more, and I feel like the teenager I used to be when we first met - not like a married, middle-aged woman. I get the feeling he experiences the same kind of strange time-travel and when we slowly part we keep our fingers hooked around each others, not quite holding hands, but maintaining body contact while strolling down the streets.

Just before we reach the metro station there’s a small shop selling underwear and bikinis - and I beg to stop just a bit, I want to check out what they have in my size. The store is empty except for a saleswoman who quite clearly has started the weekend in her head already - but she is awfully friendly and ushers me into the test cabin where she prompts me to try on a series of different bathing suits and bikinis. I know it’s probably a bit mean of me… but I do enjoy having him watch me when I show off one after another, revealing more and more of my body. He looks equally appreciative and pained, to be honest - and no wonder really. I usually hate being in his position myself, waiting for someone while they are trying on different clothing… but I comfort myself with the thought that he does at least get a bit of a peep show for free. I have already decided on a bikini when the saleswoman comes with some other piece she wants me to try on, claiming that she needs to see how it fits on a body like mine. I feel a bit like a mannequin and well, there’s a first for everything I guess. 

Shortly after closing time we finally make it out of the store and arrive at the metro. I’ve got this strange feeling in my stomach - I don’t want him to go… but I know it has to be. One last kiss before I watch him leave for the train. God, the man has such a good physique, my fingers are itching to feel him up.

I sigh and start walking back towards the hotel. A weekend that has started out so gloriously well - let’s keep it up and make sure it stays good!