I kicked off my shoes, removed my tie and jacket, and fell back on one of the two hotel beds. To say it had been a long day was understating things. I stared at the weird stain on the ceiling, and relished having a minute of quiet time to myself.

The Organizational Communication Research Conference was in Memphis this year. I had made the four hour drive yesterday with another doctoral student from Clinton State, Kriti. There were also a few professors at the conference, but they were staying downtown. Even at the 'special conference rates' those rooms were far beyond the budget of the typical doc student. We were staying at a Days Inn about a mile away. Separate rooms.

Kriti was an international student from India. I liked her almost immediately on meeting her. She was intelligent and serious about her education, but also eternally cheerful and fun. She had a child-like wonder at American culture - things most people took for granted. Like the McDonalds drive-through and Wal-Mart; to her these places were new, exotic, uniquely American experiences. I enjoyed listening to her perspectives, and introducing her to new things, like TV shows or music.

We quickly became friends. But there wasn't much more to it than that. Kriti had a fiancé back home, whom she planned to marry when she graduated. I, myself, had been married for eight years. So, neither of us was a 'free agent.' Besides, I was about ten years older than Kriti, who was only twenty-seven, so I figured she just saw me as an nice older guy, maybe like a big brother.

That didn't keep my wife from getting jealous of the time we spent together. She accused me having an affair with the girl until I pointed out how ridiculous that sounded. I mean, sure Kriti was cute as hell. She had a small frame with lovely curves, cinnamon skin, and dimples when she smiled (which was often). But the thought of cheating on my wife had never really crossed my mind. At least not until my wife put it there. After that, I admit, sometimes I did fantasize about it.

Like I was doing now, in this hotel room in Memphis. I started to think about Kriti's apartment where she lived with her roommate. I thought about what it might be like for her to take me back to her bedroom under the pretext of needing to find a text book or something. And maybe her underwear would be lying around, and she'd be a little embarrassed about it. I'd reassure her that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, she was an attractive girl. One thing would lead to another...

I was starting to get hard. What the hell, I thought to myself, I've got about an hour to kill.

I could hear voices passing outside, but the curtains were drawn. I undid my pants and slipped them off. I felt my erection firming in my hand as I began to stroke my cock. I'd seen Kriti before, dressed in tight jeans and a form-fitting t-shirt that revealed much of her figure. Now I was imagining what she looked like out of them. Lying back on her bed in her bedroom, with her legs spread, pussy damp, inviting... begging...

My phone buzzed. I ignored it. It buzzed again. Shit!

I picked it up, thinking maybe it was my wife checking up on me and wanting to tell me about her day. So much for my time to myself. If I ignored it now, I'd only get the inquisition later: "Where were you? How come you're not answering my texts? What were you doing that was so important?" And so on.

But it wasn't my wife. The text was from Kriti.

"Hey, Justin. I need your help. Can you come to my room?"

My mind immediately jumped back to my fantasies of Kriti naked and spread-eagled on her bed. I felt my cock twitch, and had to remind myself that this was the real world, and whatever Kriti wanted, it probably wasn't to get fucked by her thirty-seven year old study partner. She probably just needed help connecting her computer to the hotel network or something.

"Sure," I texted back. "What room?"

"226."

"K. Be there in a few minutes."

I put on a pair of jeans and a more casual shirt than I'd been wearing at the conference. The clothes made me feel more human. The whole day, I'd been meeting people, attending seminars, and networking in hopes that one of them might want to hire me when I graduated.

Kriti and I had given a presentation in the afternoon about the linguistic economies of students in a predominantly Hispanic high school in an economically disadvantaged neighbourhood. We were constantly in the mode to impress, and it seemed like our presentation was successful. We each walked away with a head full of praise and a handful of business cards.

But now, hours away from that, I could finally let my guard down a bit, and be more myself. Relaxed. I opened the hotel room door, and stepped out, then stuck my foot in the door before it shut. I double-checked the key card was in the chest pocket of my shirt for maybe the third time. Reassured that I'd remembered the card, I let the door shut behind me.

I stood for a minute and admired what view there was. It was near-dark when the sun disappeared, but there was still a little bit of left-over daylight lingering stubbornly in the sky. The air was cool, and I wondered if I should bring a jacket when we went out later. Below me was a parking lot, and beyond that a Denny's restaurant. In the distance I could see the downtown skyline. Past that, I knew, was the Mississippi River, but I couldn't see it from where I was.

Memphis seemed like a rough place - run down mostly. It was the kind of city that reached its peak decades before I was born, and had since been sliding into blight and poverty. It was a sad, tired place full of people who for the most part seemed resigned to defeat as a way of life. A city like the last light of the day, also left-behind and fading.

But we'd been told that it wasn't all like this. People at the conference told us that we needed to check out Beale Street at night. They promised it was like Memphis' version of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, one big party. I didn't know if I wanted to party. I was thinking that staying in, watching a bit of baseball on TV, and having an early night sounded more appealing. Jesus, I was getting old. But Kriti really wanted to go, and I promised I'd go with her.

I walked around to the other side of the motel, the part that faced a pool that wouldn't be in use for another month at least. Arriving at 226, I knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Kriti standing in the same professional-looking grey skirt and maroon blouse she'd worn to the conference.

"Hi Justin," she said, stepping aside. "Come in."

"Thanks," I said.

I entered the room, so much like my own. The door swung closed behind me. On one of the beds was an open suitcase. A lacy powder blue bra hung halfway out of it. Kriti noticed me noticing her undergarment, and quickly went to the bed, tucked everything inside and closed it.

"Sorry," she said, looking embarrassed.

"That's alright," I said. "I mean, it's not like it's the first time I've seen a bra."

"Not my bra, though." She was actually blushing. It was very cute.

"No, I guess I haven't," I admitted, and suddenly I was picturing Kriti in her bra with matching panties. Trying to will the thought away, I decided to change the subject. "Anyway, what's up?"

"Oh my God, Justin," Kriti exclaimed, "I really need your help."

"What is it?"

"I can't get this zipper open," she turned to show me the zipper at the hip of her skirt. "It's stuck."

"Oh," I said.

"I've been trying for, like, an hour," she said even though we'd only been back at the hotel for maybe thirty minutes at most."Can you help?"

"Umm..." I thought about putting my hands on Kriti - not something I'd ever done before - and then I thought about what my wife would say if she knew.

"Come on, Justin," Kriti pleaded. "I can't get it to budge. See?"

Kriti turned sideways and yanked awkwardly at the zipper. Nothing.

"I don't know who else to ask for help," she continued.

"Alright," I said. I mean, it was just a zipper. My wife didn't need to know - she'd only get jealous. It wasn't like we were making out or anything. It was innocent. Kriti needed my help, and what was I supposed to do, just leave her stuck inside of her skirt?

"Thanks," she said.

"Come over here into the light."

I led her over to the sink where the flourescent lights were brightest overhead. I placed my hands on her hips and positioned her sideways in front of me so I was looking at her profile. The top of her head only came up to my chin. I grabbed the zipper between my fingers, and tugged. It wouldn't budge. It was such a small zipper that I couldn't get a good grip on the tab.

I descended to a kneeling position, unable to help admiring her curves in front and behind. I reached eye-level with the zipper, and tried again. Then I placed my hand firmly on Kriti's waist to hold her steady. I tried giving the zipper another good hard yank. It wouldn't move a millimeter.

"Wow, it's really stuck," I observed.

"I told you."

"Isn't there..? I mean, can't we..?" I had no ideas. "There's got to be a way."

I tried again, futilely. Maybe if I had some tools. Like some needle-nose pliers or something. But who packs anything like that for a conference?

"Maybe if we untucked your blouse from your skirt," I suggested.

Kriti pulled the dark red fabric from the waistline of her skirt.

"Lift it, so I can see," I instructed.

Kriti held the side of her blouse up. I took a second - not too long - to admire the smoothness of her brown skin. Then I tried the zipper again. It remained jammed. But I could at least hook my fingers inside the waist of the skirt now.

"Have you tried, just sliding the whole thing off?" I asked.

"No," Kriti said, looking down at me. "It's too tight."

"If you, like, suck in your stomach and everything, you know, maybe we can slide it down. It seems a bit looser now."

"I don't know," she said.

"Can we try?"

"Okay."

"On the count of three. You push from the waist, and I'll try pulling from the bottom. Alright?"

Kriti nodded.

One... Two... Thee.

Kriti pulled in her stomach, and clenched her butt. She was holding her breath and concentrating. Her thumbs were pushing down on either side of the skirt. I grabbed the hemline which was a few inches above her knees and began to pull. The skirt shifted maybe two inches - just enough to reveal the decorative black top of Kriti's underwear over the first gentle rise of her buttocks - but would go no further.

As Kriti stared down at me, there was something in her face. I mean, beneath the embarrassment and frustration, could she be... a little turned on? We'd never been this physically close before, alone together in this room. Pulling at her clothes. My fingers touching her skin... No. I was sure I was just imagining it. Projecting my own dirty thoughts on to her. I told myself to stop it, and tried to put the thoughts out of my mind.

"Do you think it would go the other way?" I asked.

"Other way?"

"You know, like up over your head."

"Are you kidding?" Kriti admonished. She gestured to her chest. Her breasts weren't huge, but neither were they small. As I considered her frame (a very lovely frame), I agreed, the skirt probably wouldn't pass that way either.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. She went over to the bed and sat down.

"It's okay," I reassured her, standing up. "We'll figure this out one way or another. It's just that the zipper is so damned small. I'm sure I could get it if it were bigger."

"I'm going to have to wear this same skirt through the whole conference," Kriti complained. "Maybe for the rest of my life."

"Don't be stupid," I said. "We're going to get you out of this."

Kriti lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her legs dangled over the edge. I considered what it would be like to go over there and lie down next to her, to toss my leg across her. To kiss her, and grab her breast through that maroon blouse. Would she return my kiss, I wondered. Would she do more than that?

Quit kidding yourself, man, I told myself. This was just dangerous thinking. Nothing good would come of it. I should just let it go, fix this problem, go back to my room, and jerk one out in private. We're not anything but colleagues, so keep it professional.

"Listen," I said finally. "Do you care about this skirt?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean, do you care if it gets ripped?"

"Ripped?"

"I think I can pull apart the zipper, but it would probably damage it."

Kriti sighed.

"Okay," she said. "I mean, I like this skirt, but if it's the only way..."

"Come back over here."

Kriti got up from the bed, and treaded back to where I was standing.

Once again, I grabbed her by the waist, and turned her so I could see her profile. Then I knelt down once more.

"Lift your shirt."

Kriti did, exposing that soft brown skin again. I grabbed hold of the skirt waist with both hands. My fingers dove inside of it, getting a firm grip.

"Okay?" I asked.

Kriti nodded. I began to pull at fabric. At first it held, and I wondered if I was going to be defeated by this skirt. Then I heard a faint tearing of the threads. I pulled even harder. After a few seconds, the seams of the zipper pulled away from the fabric of the skirt. I pulled the tear wide open, all the way down the length of the zipper.

Suddenly I found myself staring at Kriti's panties. They were purple with a black border, thin, silky, sexy, just inches from my face. I could see the bare curve of her hips, her butt, her thigh. Without thinking, I moaned softly, and appreciatively. As minor as it may seem, I was taken away by the thrill of the forbidden. I should not be seeing this. I couldn't look away. Slowly, I rose, allowing my gaze to take in Kriti not as a colleague, not as a friend, but as a man admires a woman. Fully.

As I reached her eyes, I saw her staring back at me. And I could see in her eyes for a second that she was completely mine, ready to give herself entirely to me, only waiting for me to make the next move. Could I?

I let go of her skirt. Gravity drew it easily to the floor. I gazed down at the sexy purple panties, shrinking to a V between her brown thighs. I imagined the hot dampness that was blooming there, and felt a warm stiffening in my own groin.

I reached out my hand. My fingers gently stroked her cheek. She made a sound that was not unlike purring, and moved her face against my touch. I brushed her hair from the side of her head, reaching around behind her. I bent down slightly, and pulled her towards me. She came without resistance, as if drawn by magnets. Eyes closed, softly, our lips met. I pressed further into her. Our lips parted. My tongue in her mouth. Her tongue dancing sensually around mine.

My hand left the back of Kriti's head, and dropped to her chest. I felt the soft flesh beneath the maroon fabric. Gently, I squeezed. Kriti responded with a low moan. I felt her fingers in my hair. As we continued kissing, I blindly reached beneath the blouse, tracing my fingers across her stomach, and up to her bra. It felt like the same silky material as her panties. I rubbed my thumb across the front it, feeling a small protrusion hardening underneath it.

Kriti broke our kiss. She placed her hand on my chest and stepped backwards. I stood and watched as she pulled the blouse up over her head. The bra matched her panties, purple and black and sexy smooth silk in a half cup that cradled each beautifully round breast.

"You're stunning," I said.

"Thank you," she said, smiling back at me. She began to unbutton my shirt, starting from the top.

"But what about your fiancé?" I asked.

"I haven't told anyone," Kriti said, "But we broke up a month ago."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It was just too difficult being so far away from each other, you know?" Kriti reached the final button and pulled open my shirt. Her fingers danced delicately across my chest. "And your wife?"

"It's complicated," I said.

"Oh?"

But I didn't want to get into the whole story about how my wife had lost her sex-drive, and she would do it just to make me happy, but I could tell she didn't enjoy any of it. We'd talked about it, and she'd said she knew it wasn't fair to me. She felt guilty, she said. She even offered an open relationship, so I could get my needs met outside, as long as she didn't have to know about it. But I never took her up on it until now.

Instead of explaining all this to Kriti, I leaned in and kissed her again, passionately. I let my hands roam her body, eager to feel every inch of her. I was certain she could feel my hard cock straining against my jeans, as I pressed my body into hers.

Gradually, we made our way towards the bed. I lay Kriti down on her back. I leaned over her and kissed a trail from her lips, down her throat, across the top of each of her breasts, and then between them. I carried on down her stomach, her belly button. Further down, until I reached the trim of her panties. I allowed my lips to brush over top of them. I could feel the heat beneath them. Kriti's thighs parted a little further, granting me fuller access. I glanced up her body and caught her eyes. She was staring at me with anticipation.

Maintaining eye contact, I grabbed hold of either side of her panties, and slowly pulled them towards her knees. As they slid away, they revealed a triangular patch of neatly-trimmed hair, pointing to her sweet slit. The crotch of the panties was dark and damp with her juices - a little secret revealed.

"Look how wet you are," I observed. "I can't wait to taste you."

I slipped the panties off the ends of her feet, and began to gradually kiss my way back up her legs: left ankle, right ankle, left knee, right knee, left thigh, right thigh... I teased my way closer to where they met, taking my time.

Kriti was moaning softly. Finally I hovered over her clit. It was begging for attention. Gently, I gave it a little brush with my lips. Kriti moaned louder. I gave it another, longer kiss. Then I spread her lips with my fingers, admiring the way the soft brown parted to reveal glistening pink. With the flat of my tongue, I licked long and slow from bottom of her wet pussy all the way to the top.

"My god!" Kriti shouted.

I dove in, licking, and kissing and sucking all of her, drinking up her juices. I let my tongue explore inside her, while I gently pinched her clit between my thumb and forefinger, rolling it softly.

Then, my mouth was on her clit, and my fingers were inside of her, feeling for that spot that I knew would drive her wild. I didn't know if Kriti had ever been touched this way before, but she was moaning and squirming at my contact. I could tell she was building towards an orgasm.

"Yes, that feels so good," she was saying. "Please don't stop. Please!"

I kept up my pace, fingering and licking her. I was making muffled grunts into her pussy with my efforts.

"Please! Oh... Ohhh!"

Her thighs clamped down around my ears, and she pulled my hair. I felt her warm creamy juices on my face. After a few seconds, her leg grip relaxed, and I came up for breath.

"Jesus," I said.

"Sorry," she apologized.

"Don't be," I said. I stood up, and collapsed next to Kriti on the bed. "That was fucking amazing."

"It's just, it's never been like that before."

"Never?" I asked. "You mean you're a virgin?"

"No. I used to have sex with my fiancé, before I left for the US. But he never did that. He was just interested in... you know..." She made a circle with her thumb and index finger, and poked her finger from her other hand through it. It was too cute the way she had just had my face buried deep in her pussy, giving her an amazing orgasm, but she was still shy and embarrassed to talk about sex.

As if to prove she was no virgin, Kriti leaned forward, and ran her hands along the front of my jeans. My erection, which had been fading, came roaring back to life under her teasing touch.

"Looks like someone wants to come out and play," she teased.

Kriti shifted her position, climbing over top of me so her face was above my crotch. Her hands worked at my jeans, undoing the button, and sliding down the zipper. She pulled apart the front flaps, and then deftly slipped her hand inside my underwear. Her fingers circled around my cock and gripped it. There was a look of surprise on her face. Like a kid on Christmas, she eagerly pulled my pants down, so she could see it for herself.

"Justin, it's... amazing," she said, admiringly. "It's bigger than my fiancé... ex-fiancé, I mean."

I'm not really the kind of guy who measures the size of his cock and brags about it. I always supposed I was just average sized. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little flattered by the attention Kriti was giving me.

She lowered her head, and took my head into her mouth all at once. She sucked gently, while running her tongue along the underside of my cock. It felt amazing. She leaned further forward to take more of me in. Her pussy was just a few inches from my face. I couldn't resist licking it again.

"Oh, Justin, you're so naughty," Kriti said with a giggle.

With both hands, I grabbed her ass and spread her further apart as my tongue dipped inside her. Kriti reciprocated by intensifying her attentions to my cock, using her mouth and hands to stimulate me. In turn, I licked Kriti harder and faster. We kept pushing each other harder and harder. After a few minutes, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Kriti, get up," I ordered. "I need to be inside you. Now."

Kriti got off of me. Her mouth was wet and shiny with her saliva from the blowjob. I stood up, spun her around, and bent her forward over the bed.

"Oh!" she yelped as I ran my pink cock between her brown pussy lips. I loved the feeling of her hot juices bathing the head of it.

"Oh!" she shouted, as I pushed the head inside of her tight little hole.

I began to fuck Kriti with slow, gentle strokes, each time going a little bit deeper inside of her. Each thrust was met with a little gasp. After a minute, my thighs were pressed up against her ass. I leaned forward and unclasped her bra. She shrugged it from her shoulders, and then tossed it across the room. Now free, I grabbed both breasts as I continued to move inside of her. They weren't too large, but they were definitely more than a handful each. I squeezed them as I began to pick up my pace.

"Oh my God!" Kriti cried out loudly as I slapped her ass and pumped my cock into her. I could feel my balls hitting against her pussy.

After a few minutes, I pulled out.

"Turn around on your back," I demanded. "I want to see your face."

Kriti did as she was told, lying back down on the bed facing me. Her black hair spread out around her head. She looked up with her beautiful brown eyes. My own eyes tracked down her body, her coffee-coloured breasts, each topped with a milk chocolate nipple, falling to either side. Her stomach, flat and smooth, punctuated by a little shallow belly button. The subtle lines of her hips converging at her hot little hairy mound. I lay my cock across it, admiring the way it was accented by the darker colours. The hair matted with her juices, my spit, my pre-cum.

Feeling the heat of her pussy calling it home, I guided my cock into the warm slippery wetness that was waiting to accept it. Kriti moaned as I re-entered her. I groaned a little myself, fully enjoying the feeling of her all around me. I began to thrust again. Kriti locked her legs behind my back, pulling me even further inside of her.

"God that feels so amazing," she said.

"So fucking good," I agreed.

After a few minutes, I reached down, and began to play with her clit.

"Oh my god!" she shouted again. "Please don't stop, Justin! Don't stop!"

I didn't. Instead I fucked her harder and faster. My fingers worked more intensely at her clitoris.

"You feel so fucking amazing on my fucking cock," I babbled, not even knowing what I was saying. "I love how fucking wet your pussy is for me. You're such a fucking dirty little fucking girl, you fuck so good. So fucking hot..."

My hips pounded into her, making a loud smacking noise each time they met her ass-cheeks. After several minutes, Kriti's eyes squeezed shut, and her body locked intensely.

"Oh Shiiittt!" she shouted as her orgasm shook her entire body. I could feel her squeezed tight around my cock.

It was too much! Past the point of no return, I pulled out of Kriti at the last possible second, and shot my load over her stomach and chest. My mind went zen-blank with ecstasy. My balls throbbed as semen continued pumping from my cock, dribbling, warm and sticky into her patch of pubic hair.

"Fuck," I said when I recovered my senses.

Kriti was looking down her body at the trail of white splotches against her brown skin. She dug some of my cum from her belly button with her finger, and sucked it sexily.

"Mmm," she moaned. "That was amazing."

"I can't believe how badly I needed that," I said as much to myself as to her.

I dropped onto the bed next to her. Kriti turned her head and gave me a playfully affectionate kiss. I smiled back at her.

"Your ex was a fool to let you go," I said.

"And your wife is a fool to make things complicated for you," she returned. And then she added, "Thank you for helping a lady in distress."

"Or dis-dress," I joked.

"That too," Kriti laughed. "I'd probably still be in that stupid skirt if it wasn't for you. Thanks."

"Any time."