CEO-Good

My closing address had been well received and had resonated with the audience, and I was pleased and relieved, having a quiet celebratory drink at the bar before heading out for dinner. He walked in just then, looking around, clearly searching for someone, then headed straight for me.

I take a deep breath. The last 3 years begin to slide off me: his first affair, yet another affair, the drinking, the coke, the humiliation, the anger, the lawyers. I hate myself for ever letting him close, then the years of cleaving to my Mistake, denial, hoping for what? that he wasn't a mistake? But that's what he was, The Mistake. Although my two children aren't a mistake, whatever else, he can't take them from me; in fact, he never even tried. 

In this anonymous conference hotel room, for at least a couple of hours, I wonder if there might be a new start. Not that this handsome, twinkly-eyed, rather obvious, and ridiculously young photographer guy is the start of anything; I am sure of that. But it may be the start of a new me, a new future self. That would be enough for now.

The shower stops—I think briefly how best to look when he emerges and decide to lie on my front, legs apart to tense my buttocks. I like my bum, I think to myself, resting my chin on my linked hands. Quizzical and expectant, but available: perfect.

"That's much better. Sorry, I've been in the studio all day, feeling a bit gross," he emerges, drying his hair with a towel around his waist. 

Good hair, wavy. Nice body, but not gym-pumped. I am so glad of that, I immediately feel more confident in my own body, which hasn't ever seen a gym. He's slim, wiry, muscular, good legs. Young. Smooth chest, a dark line of hair disappearing into the towel. I want to lick that line, follow it with my tongue to where it ends. I feel myself becoming wet. 

Far too young. How old did he say he was in the bar before that fatal third Mezcal? 30? 25 more like. Perfect. Too young. Presumptuous of me. Of him, too. Flattering. Slightly scary. 

"That's okay," I lie. I had thought to tell him not to bother showering because I liked his smell, but I was too shy to say it.

Instead: "Tell me something, why did you come to my room."

He stops drying his hair and looks at me, slightly puzzled.

"Er, you invited me?"

I smile.

"I didn't invite you as such, Conor, you followed me into the lift, and as I recall you kissed me without invitation and slid my dress over my hips and grabbed my ass. Not that I minded, and I suppose my tongue in your mouth was an invitation of sorts."

He had tasted good, sweet liquor, his tongue tentatively exploring mine, close to passion but a little uncertain, ready to pull back if I had protested, which I didn't. Respectful, I liked that. 

I had pressed myself against him, encouraging, running my hand through his hair, feeling his hardening cock against my pubis—then I felt my dress slip over my hips and his hand cup my ass cheek, fingers sliding under the edge of my briefs. I was instantly wet.

"Yes, I remember that, bold of me. I also find you attractive, and you make me laugh. Oh, and that other thing."

I raise an eyebrow; quizzical is definitely a good look.

"What other thing?"

"Well, you said your job is telling people what to do and that if I worked for you, you could see you would have your hands full ordering me around all day."

I did recall saying that after he had bought me a second drink, he touched my knee and smiled as he handed it to me. Twinkly eyes, pretty mouth, soft brown hair, well-cut. Stop it. I had been deliberately vague about my job but had felt butterflies in my stomach. Maybe the game was on, about bloody time.

"So, Conor, let me get this straight, the real reason you're here is because you like being told what to do?"

I am amused by this turn of events. I've never really taken control in the bedroom before, but Conor seems to be as intrigued as I am, and I indeed earn a living—a very good living—basically telling people what to do. Well, the official line is 'leading a team, inspiring people, leading them where they didn't know they wanted to go.' I am very good at it—CEO good—and I wonder whether I might just be able to lead and inspire Conor inside me this evening.

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