Typical industry convention. Gender diversity in top management isn’t our strength. 

During the opening night happy hour, the usual 90/10 male-to-female ratio proved unchanged. What the hell. Have a couple bourbons, work the room, speak to casual acquaintances and call it a night. Tomorrow morning would come early and I was first up with a panel discussion, so a short night of drinking might prove the wise decision.

But damn, the room had no energy.

To hell with this.

I headed to the hotel bar. It was fairly small with a dozen or so stools at the bar and a handful of tables scattered about for parties of two or more.

Settling in at the end of the bar, and ordering a Basil Hayden neat, the football game on the TV above the bartender proved a decent distraction. Though I had no interest in either team, at least it was more entertaining than the dull room I’d just left.

One bourbon in and another on order, I heard, “Is this seat taken?”

“It’s all yours,” I replied as I turned toward the female voice.

She slipped up onto the barstool, extended her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Deborah.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Deborah. I’m Derrick.”

Deborah ordered a Hendricks & Tonic as we engaged in normal convention chit chat. She was a convention vendor and this was her first time with this group. She didn’t know a soul except for the organizers.

After a bit she leaned over slightly so no one else could hear and sarcastically asked, “Are these conventions always this exciting?”

Laughing out loud, I answered, “Not always. This is an exceptionally rowdy night.”

You gotta answer good sarcasm with like wit, right?

It was her turn to laugh out loud.

Deborah had an easy demeanor about her. An easy smile and an easy, adorable laugh. I’d guess she was a bit older than I, but not appreciably. She was maybe 5’2”, on the busty side, a tight little ass, short blonde hair, soft green eyes and lips that begged to have lips pressed against them.

Yes, I noticed it all. Yes, I knew I should politely excuse myself and get some sleep. But yes, Deborah had quickly captivated me.

No, I wasn’t leaving.

As the minutes ticked by the bar became more crowded. Apparently others were bored with the happy hour gathering, too. With more bodies came more noise.

“Wow, it’s getting loud in here,” Deborah said, almost shouting so I could hear.

“Want to get another drink and go out on the patio?” I suggested.

It was late summer in upstate New York. That brought cooler night temperatures. The patio stretched across the back of the hotel and offered several small sitting spaces. Luckily, the staff had stoked the fire pits, so sitting outside was comfortable enough, at least at this hour.

I chose a spot at the far end of the patio where the lighting was dim, but the fire warmed those close. Letting Deborah select her seating preference, she settled into a plush loveseat-type outdoor sofa.

“Join me,” she said as she patted the cushion beside her. “I might need the extra warmth.” That invitation came with a soft smile and a sly wink.

As I settled in beside her, the waitress arrived with our drinks. 

We sipped. We chatted. The conversation flowed effortlessly. It was as if we were long-time colleagues -- maybe even friends -- who were simply catching up.

The longer we talked, the closer she sat. Occasionally shifting in her space, it wasn’t long before we sat shoulder to shoulder.

Deborah looked up and let out a slight gasp.

“Oh my! Look at the sky!”

I looked up and saw the spectacle that drew her attention. Crystal clear skies and an absence of light pollution revealed a night sky we usually only see in our dreams. The width of our vision was pitch black, but densely dotted with sparkling celestial diamonds. ‘Spectacular’ hardly describes the sight sufficiently.

“Beautiful sky, isn’t it?” It was our waitress checking in on us. “It’s one of the perks living here in Saratoga Springs. Can I get you two another drink?”

Deborah turned her face to mine. “One more?”

Why not. My idea of an early evening was already gladly shot to hell.

“May I bring you a light blanket?” the waitress added. “Looks like you’re going to be here a while and the temperature will drop more.” Looking at Deborah, she added, “You’re probably going to want it.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

And off went the waitress, only to return in five minutes. She sat our drinks on the small table and handed us a light, soft blanket. “I will leave you two alone.”

As she left, Deborah lay her head on my shoulder as she continued to stare into the universe. A soft, contented sigh escaped her lips as she snuggled closer, bringing her knees up across my thighs. Her comfort in the moment displayed itself more each minute.

A shiver through her told me the cool air was making her uncomfortable. Wearing a black, thin sweater with an ample amount of exposed cleavage and white slacks, she wasn’t dressed for the dropping temperatures.

Without a request, I took the blanket and wrapped it around her. It covered her completely, including her legs.

“Mmmmmmm...feels nice,” she said as she curled up closer.

As we continued to enjoy our drinks and free-flowing conversation, the alcohol emboldened us both. I put my arm around her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The ease of the action surprised me. Deborah just melted into me deeper, if that was possible. Her right arm wrapped around my lower torso, hugging me close.

“Ummmm, excuse me,” she offered. “What is this?”

I realized her forearm lay right across my belt. But it wasn’t the belt she questioned, but rather the erection pinned just below it.

I’d been so immersed in the conversation and the company that my arousal she discovered caught even me by surprise. There was stammering and squirming, but there was no hiding the obvious.

Deborah giggled a little and gave my shaft a gentle squeeze. It was then that I realized that not only was I aroused, but nicely so.

She moaned softly, turned her face to mine, leaned into my ear, and whispered, “It’s nice to see you are as hard as I am wet….mmmmmm.” A firmer squeeze followed.

“Is that so?”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Well, you have proof I’m aroused. I have no proof you are.”

I had to see how far she wanted to play this, right?

She shifted slightly away from me and her hand left my trousers. There was subtle movement under the blanket as she looked around to see if we were being watched (we weren’t...we were the only ones on the patio).

In a moment, she closed her eyes and sighed. She squirmed a little. She moaned softly as she looked me square in the eyes. In her smile lay desire.

“Taste,” she offered as she brought two well-manicured fingers to my lips.

As I opened my mouth, she slipped both fingers in. My lips closed as she drew her fingers slowly out.

Oh yes, she was wet. Her warm juices coated my tongue as I sucked her fingers clean.

She leaned in for our first kiss. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t urgent. It felt natural, unhurried.

“Damn, I taste good mixed with bourbon,” she noted, seductively licking her lips as the kiss broke. “Now are you convinced I’m as wet as you are hard?”

“Well, I’m even harder than when you last checked. But I’m betting you’re even wetter, too.”

She grinned. “You got the second part right; let’ see about the first part.”

She lay her hand back on my shaft and gripped firmly. “Sir,” she said in mock respect, “I do believe you are correct. I’m certain I detect significant growth since last I checked.”

Her grip tightened. I moaned.

Deborah leaned in close again. “Derrick, if I don’t take care of this tonight, you might be standing on the stage in a few hours and suddenly get an erection in front of all these people. We can’t have that, now can we?”