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Her attire is another thing I wouldn’t have expected—she always hated heels and dressing up. The glasses—oh, fuck me sideways. I stir at the thought, my cock hardening. I need a release, but Kate is outside, and even I have my boundaries. Adjusting my pants, I walk back into the living room.
We spend the afternoon on conference calls with Human Resources regarding the recruiting of the Manhattan office. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have a fully functional office in less than two months. Now, more than ever, I want this office up and running, giving me an excuse to spend more time in the city.
By six, I’m done. Kate left to spend the night with a friend she had met in the city, so I decide to go down to the bar in the hotel lobby. It’s busy for a
Friday night, the usual business crowd letting their hair down after a stressful week. A few young girls are dancing. I sit at the bar and order a scotch. One of the brunettes from the dance floor walks up to the bar, stopping beside me.
“Bartender!” she yells, chuckling while intoxicated.
The bartender stands at the end of the bar, trying his best to chat up another girl. Young people, honestly. If he were under my watch, I’d have fired him on the spot.
“Oh, c’mon, excuse me!”
The bartender looks up, reluctantly walking over to serve the brunette.
“Can I please get another Cosmo?”
She’s pretty hot, maybe early twenties. She has long brown hair tied up in a high ponytail while wearing a short, black skirt with a low-cut gold top. Tackily dressed, but she has a nice pair of tits. She waits at the bar before turning my way. Licking her lips, she looks me up and down, not at all ashamed she has made it so obvious.
“Alone tonight?” she asks, her body moving closer to mine as her hand rests on my thigh.
“That depends if you’re going to walk back to your posse or stay and drink with me.”
I know I sound like a cocky motherfucker but I have this one in the bag, and I need a release after what happened today.
“You’re not from around here? I love a man with an accent.” She smirks.
Don’t all American women? She looks at me, smiling, her lips covered in bright red lipstick. Jumping off the bar stool, she grabs my hand and drags me through the bar to the restroom at the back. Slowly looking around, she opens the door, pushing me inside. What a little firecracker. She grabs my pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Pulling them down, she releases my cock.
“Damn, you’re one fine specimen. And this…” she says as she wraps her hand around my cock, “… needs to be in my mouth right now.”
I look down, watching her take in all of me until I feel it tap the back of her throat. Hmm, great gag reflex. I close my eyes, remembering when Charlotte would do the same, her long brown hair covering me. I grab the chick’s hair, lusting over the brown strands, watching her, but all I can see is Charlotte, all I can feel is Charlotte. It doesn’t take me long before I need to blow, the girl pulling me out of her mouth as she jerks me off in her hand.
Quickly, she stands then washes her hands as I pull up my pants.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” she says, sounding pretty confident.
I’m amused these young girls think giving head makes them powerful. Quite the opposite. I didn’t have to beg for it, darling. Fuck, I didn’t have to do anything.
She smiles one more time then exits the bathroom. I walk over to the sink, washing my hands and splashing my face with cold water. What was I thinking? It isn’t like this hasn’t happened before, but I’ve never allowed myself to think of Charlotte when I was with someone else.
I exit the bar without saying goodbye as I walk past and head back to my suite. I’m so fucked, I need to forget. Why can’t I forget? Making my way to the bathroom, I turn the shower onto scalding hot, desperate to wash away what happened downstairs.
I climb into bed, trying to shut down my mind, but I can’t. I grab my phone off the nightstand and succumb to what I have put off doing for the last nine years—I type her name into a search engine.
There are random photographs of other girls, but no one who looks like her. I scroll through, desperate to find anything. It must be around the sixth page where I find a small picture. I click on the thumbnail linked to a Yale class website. There’s a picture of Charlotte with a guy, Finn. I recognize him immediately. She’s smiling, she looks happy.
Were they together after I left?
I can feel the anger brewing again, but I know I have no right to feel this way.
Knowing I have made the situation even worse for myself, I switch off my phone. Why the fuck can’t I just let this go? There’s too much history between us, and I need her to know how much I regret my actions. At the time I acted like a timid little coward, and I should’ve followed my instincts. I should have followed my heart.
For nine years, I’ve buried what we had and drowned myself in my work.
Yes, it paid off, but is it worth it in the end?
***
