After my encounter with Ava in London, I continued the New York/London route for several months. Ava returned to New York two months afterward our first encounter and we hooked up in her hotel room.

I hired a cab from the airport to Manhattan, where she was staying in a suite in one of the more expensive hotels.

I took the elevator to the floor where the lounge was, and spotted Ava at a table nearby. The door attendant eyed me, as she asked if I had a reservation.

I told her I was meeting someone who was waiting inside.

About that time, Ava spotted me and waved me over.

The attendant told me to go ahead, and I caught her eyeing my crotch as I passed her stand.

Ava was wearing a revealing black mesh tank top, under a blue jean jacket, and matching jeans.

She greeted me with a seductive kiss, then we chatted over a couple of drinks, before she led me to the elevator.

Before the elevator doors closed, Ava pressed the button for the floor her suite was on, then wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me as if she wanted sex in the elevator.

I bet whoever watched the elevator camera liked what they were seeing.

The next day, we agreed to meet occasionally. It was time for me to leave for my next assignment and as we kissed goodbye, I squeezed her ass in front of everyone in the lobby.

One day I checked my messages and saw there was an opening for the Middle East route, mainly serving Dubai.

I’ve read and heard about some cool things about Dubai, and I applied for the opening.

As I prepared for my first trip, I read that Middle East customs are strict, and I was told not to make eye contact with the women, even if their faces aren’t covered. And especially if they are with their husbands, fathers, or other males accompanying them.

I tried to adhere to that rule and found it difficult not to check out some of the women.

I found out many of the Dubai women live in other countries, such as France or England, and the Arab women seemed to have more freedom than in their native countries.

When the flights left UAE airspace, many women wearing burkas would make a trip to the restroom, to change out of them.

The flights were long, especially the return flight to the States. But we worked in shifts to ease the workload.

During my first return flight to New York, I was in the first-class section, assisting with food service.  

Sitting alone on the port side, of the last row in first-class, was a mature woman dressed in a long, beige/black striped jacket, with black one-piece jumpsuit, that showed ample cleavage.

She had shoulder length, black hair and black mascara lined, dark brown eyes.

I tried not to stare at her chest, and she caught me as I was setting her food tray down.

Embarrassed, I quickly averted my attention to the service cart, nervously asking her what she would like to drink.

When I turned to hear her response, she was smiling and with an accented voice, said she would like some water.

When I handed her a small bottle of water, she reached out with her left hand, exposing a huge diamond ring.

I knew this woman wasn’t someone to mess around with, because she likely was married to some wealthy man.

Well, as things later turned out, I was correct: she was married.

When it was time to pick up the food trays and settle in for the remainder of the flight, I helped in the remainder of the cabin, while other attendants tended to first-class.

When the flight finally made it to New York, I was standing near the exit, assisting with passenger’s baggage.

I asked the woman if she needed any assistance. She replied that her things had been checked through, and someone would assist her nearby the baggage claim.

I didn’t think much about her afterwards, and after tending to the last duties, I caught a shuttle to the hotel. I was scheduled to fly in a couple of days, so instead of going home, I hung around until my next flight assignment.

After I checked in, showered and got some rest, I decided to go get something to eat at the restaurant.

I was escorted to a table near the back and ordered a beer and an appetizer before ordering dinner.

As I snacked on some hor d’oeuvre and sipping on my beer, I began reading on my cell phone about things to do in Dubai.

I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, when I heard an accented feminine voice say, “Hello.”

Thinking it was the waitress bringing my food, “Oh, let me move my things so you can set my plate down.”

Before I could look up to see who was there, the woman laughed.

Standing beside me was the woman from first-class, wearing a black evening dress and clutching a small black purse.

Her perfume was something expensive, I was sure of, because of her jewelry she was wearing.

I quickly stood up, apologizing.

She smiled, “Oh, did I disturb you?”

I stuttered, “Oh, no! Not at all. I was reading while I waited for my dinner. I thought you were the waitress.”

The woman smiled and I asked her if she would like to join me.

She agreed and I assisted her with her chair, like I’ve seen gentlemen do in the movies.

As soon as she sat, the waitress came over and took the woman’s drink order.

I noticed she ordered a Mojito.

After the waitress left, I asked what kind of drink she ordered.

“It has rum, lime juice, club soda and a hint of mint,” she smiled.

“Oh, I’ve not heard of that. And before I get too far, my name is Parker.”

I reached out my hand as I introduced myself.

“Nice, I am Samira. I saw you on the flight,” she replied but did not offer her hand.

Feeling foolish, I returned my hand to the table.

The waitress brought Samira her drink, then told me my order would be soon.

“I apologize for eating in front of you,” I started.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about that, Parker. I’ve already had something to eat,” Samira smiled.

Samira took another sip of her drink as the waitress brought my dinner and placed it in front of me. She returned with another beer, then left me and Samira.

As I sampled the vegetable mixture, I made a bit of a sour expression.

“Parker, was this your first trip to Dubai?”

“Yes, it was my first trip. The city looks impressive, and I hope to have some more time to explore it,” I replied during bites of my steak.

I wondered how she knew this was my first trip and she replied, “I fly to New York and Los Angeles for business often. After I leave New York, I go to Los Angeles, then return by the same flight. This was the first time I’ve seen you.”

I had to admit to her, I was surprised she remembered me and even more surprised she came to sit with me.

She laughed lightly and said she liked my mannerisms on the flight and the honesty I was showing her at the present.

The waitress returned, asking if we needed anything. Samira declined, and I asked for my check.

I caught the waitress’ look at Samira, then said to me that my bill had been taken care of.

“Wow!” was all I could manage, then as the waitress left, I thanked Samira.

“Parker, it is my pleasure. You’re welcome.”

I was at a bit of a mental standstill, then I said something stupid.

“Ms. Samira, I’m at a loss for words right now. Please don’t take it as I’m not appreciative.”

Samira’s eyes had me mesmerized and I guess my mouth was stuck open.

“Parker, do you have any plans for the night?”

“No, I don’t have anything to do,” I managed to say.

Samira stood from the table, and I figured correctly it was time for us to leave, because Samira had plans.

We took the elevator to her floor and to her suite, where inside, Samira let her dress drop, before turning around to kiss me.

Samira remained wearing sheer, black lingerie and heeled shoes that made her look like someone’s mistress.

I returned her kisses and put my hands on her bare hips as she moved in close to me.

After a few hard, deep kisses, Samira stepped back and began to undress me.

I tried to assist with my shirt buttons, but she moved my hands, “No, Parker. This is my pleasure,” she whispered.

Samira may have been wealthy, but she had a servant’s mentality I found out. And her native accent was erotic.

After undressing me, she took off her bra, exposing her beautiful breasts with erect nipples poking from large dark circles.

Then she turned from me, dropped her panties and exposed her curvaceous ass.

I couldn’t wait to get into what she had in mind, but she had other ideas first.

Samira turned around and took my hand, then lead me to her bathroom, where a large bathtub and shower was located to one side opposite the brightly lit vanity mirrors.

I’ve always respected women who showered before sex.

Samira knelt to turn on the water, tested the temperature, adjusted the water flow to the shower head, then put a plug in the drain.

After stepping under the cascade, she reached for my hand, taking me under the water with her.

She kissed me and rubbed my back at the same time, as the bathtub filled.

Then a few moments later, she turned off the shower, letting the faucet continue to fill the tub.

She sat in the water, took my hand and sat me with my back facing her, then she took a bar of soap, and began to wash my back and chest.

I could feel her breasts against my back as she massaged my chest as she kissed my shoulders, neck and ears.

Then Samira reached for my cock, stroking it gently, apparently pleased with its hardness.

As Samira stroked my cock, she continued rubbing her breasts on my back.

I wanted to turn around, but Samira resisted, continuing to stroke my cock.

“Do you not enjoy this?” Samira whispered in my ear.

“Yes, very much, but I feel I cannot last much longer,” I replied.

Samira kissed my neck, then somehow, positioned herself around to kiss my lips and turned off the water.

Somewhere during our kisses, Samira managed to sit on my cock, and we continued to kiss passionately.

At some point, I leaned back, and Samira put her breasts in my face, while gently riding my cock.

I don’t know how we didn’t flood the floor, but Samira continued to ride me as I took pleasure in her breasts.

My stamina weakened soon, and I couldn’t hold back any longer, unloading inside her tight pussy.

Samira rode me a little bit more, stopped, then she kissed me and thanked me.

I started to say, “For what?” but she put her finger on my lips.

She kissed me once more, then stepped out of the bathtub, took a towel, then reached for my hand to help me out of the tub.

She dried me off, then wrapped another towel around my waste. Then she took another towel and wrapped herself in it.

The next morning, I woke up in Samira’s suite. I rolled over to find the bed and the room empty.

As I sat up to see if Samira was in the bathroom, I found a note.

“Parker, I want to thank you for the evening. I will return to New York in a few days, and I hope you will be on the flight to Dubai, where I can show you hospitality and your wish to see the city.”

If her local hospitality….