My Last Business Trip Ended in Her Room

After a few frantic weeks, my wife and I needed to breathe. We took advantage of the long weekend to visit our youngest son and his partner, a few days of calm and of sex within the quiet routine of any marriage. When we got back, the last thing waiting for me was a week of work, a trip, and, finally, retirement.

I was closing my last project for the company. All I had left was the presentation and the client’s approval. I geared myself up so that Friday would go perfectly: present it in Seville and close an entire chapter of my life. There had been many, many years, most of them very good, although the last few had grown uphill. Not because of the work, but because of the manager I had inherited.

The plan was to leave early on Friday, first by car and then on the high-speed train. Visit the company, an informal lunch, present the project for evaluation, sleep there and return on Saturday. In every project I signed throughout my career, the same script was repeated: part of the team, the manager for the signing, and me. But this time something changed. The manager couldn’t make it, despite the financial weight of the deal, and that was a relief: my relationship with him was awful and barely acceptable on the professional level.

To my surprise, his wife, Nadia, would be coming with us, the one responsible for all the financial management. With her, I had always maintained a wonderful relationship, apart from the direct day-to-day dealings, because money was always involved in my projects.

On Thursday I got home midafternoon after tying up work. I knew my wife was with Pilar, and not exactly chatting. They had warned me that if I wasn’t coming back alone, I should give them a ring. Andrés, Pilar’s husband, had been left with Nadia closing loose ends on the deal, so he would be late. As I came in, I heard moans from the hallway. There they were, tangled up in bed, and when they saw me they smiled as if inviting me to the party. I joined in without thinking. We spent a good while there until Pilar had to go home.

My wife got hers after that, in the early hours, as a farewell before the trip. There is no better way to prepare for an important meeting than to sleep exhausted and satisfied.

They came to pick me up before dawn. Up front were the young engineer who was going to replace me and the construction supervisor. In the back, Nadia, beautiful as always. The ride to the station was short and silent, so much so that she fell asleep leaning on my shoulder. I had known her for a decade and trusted me enough to allow herself that.

During the journey I remembered my beginnings with the company founder, an engineer who loved inventing things. In that first conversation he showed the slightest interest in me, newly arrived in the city and unknown to everyone. To get rid of me, he put a stalled project in front of me that threatened to cost him a fortune. I spent the whole night looking for a workable way out, and the next morning, very early, I left the solution on his desk because he wasn’t there. That night the doorbell rang at home: it was him, full of praise, with a contract I couldn’t refuse. From then on we were inseparable and the company grew until it became a benchmark in the sector.

Not everything was easy for him personally. He had two children. The younger one was a brilliant doctor; the older, his heir, wasn’t fit to hold a candle to him. He tried to make him an engineer and failed. He put him into business studies and failed. All he managed was a course in business management, at his father’s expense. That said, when it came to cars, bikes, parties, and women, he graduated with honors.

He met Nadia at a social event. She was five years younger, from a respected family in the city, with a degree in economics and a master’s in business law. Barely into her twenties, she made the mistake of getting pregnant by that useless man. They married, had a beautiful little girl, and her father placed her in the company as an administrative assistant. Her worth became obvious from day one and in no time she was running the entire financial side. My boss kept telling me she was the only good thing his son had ever brought to the table.

But everything went wrong overnight. A few years ago, my boss died in an accident. The heir took over, and my ordeal began to take shape.

***

We arrived at the station with dawn promising a splendid day. Nadia wore a black skirt suit, a white shirt, and heels, always heels. My colleagues sat at the front of the carriage and we were a few rows behind. The lights dimmed and we set off. She confessed she hadn’t slept a wink all night, curled back up on my shoulder, and fell asleep again.

As the sun climbed, I discovered the gift the morning was giving me. Her jacket half open, one shirt button undone, and, in that perfect accident, the curve of her breasts held by a nearly transparent white bra. Nadia had a body that stole glances despite always dressing modestly. And I felt it was my lucky day when, still asleep, her hand slid down to rest on my groin.

Shortly before we arrived, she woke up. She noticed the position, what she had been giving me without knowing it, and apologized, asking forgiveness for whatever I might think of her.

“I’ve only thought about a beautiful woman who needed rest,” I told her.

She stood up, went to the bathroom to finish her makeup, and came back looking spectacular. I assured her they were going to eat her alive.

The day was long, intense, and full of wins. The company accepted the project and congratulated us on it. After signing and packing up, they took us to the hotel. It was seven in the evening and the tiredness showed, so we arranged to have dinner there at nine. What caught my attention was that my colleagues were on the second floor and we were on the sixth, in adjoining rooms, but I didn’t give it much thought.

I called my wife, nodded off for a bit, and around half past eight I started hearing Nadia’s heels tapping on the other side of the wall. A quick shower, comfy clothes, and downstairs.

I was the first to arrive, punctuality being a habit of mine. Then my colleagues appeared and, lastly, her: tight jeans, a neatly buttoned floral shirt, and red heels. We ordered champagne to toast the closing. The train back left at noon the next day, so the guys suggested going out to see the city. I declined and so did Nadia, tired as she was, so they left and we were alone.

We moved to the hotel bar, to a high table with two stools, face to face, barely half a meter apart. She ordered another bottle. That project meant a lot to her and she was happy, in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. The first thing she wanted to know was whether her husband had congratulated me.

“No,” I said.

“Petty bastard,” she said, and the conversation began to circle entirely around him.

I knew her life well enough: the benders, the hunting trips, the women, almost always young girls who would one day cost him dearly. She wasn’t asking out of curiosity; she knew everything. She wanted to know what I thought. We fell into a loop that always ended at the same point: the fear of separating because of the girl, because of the family, because of work. I tried to change the subject, steer it toward something lighter, but there was no way.

“And you? Have you been faithful to him?” I asked.

“Until today, yes,” she replied. “But I’m starting to consider some solution for this year of drought I’ve had. We don’t even touch each other; we sleep in separate rooms.”

Quite naturally, she unfastened two buttons on her shirt and revealed a generous neckline. I thought it was the alcohol, but she had hardly drunk anything. My eyes kept drifting there again and again until she asked, with half a smile, whether I liked them that much. I apologized. She told me there was nothing to forgive.

The truth is I was getting hard as a rock and starting to feel uncomfortable, afraid of screwing up. The finish came when she took my hand, looked me in the eyes, and told me she was going up to the room.

“If you feel like it, I’ll wait for you in half an hour. And if not, it’s fine.”

***

I was left alone, not quite knowing what to do. I needed to talk to my wife. I called her and told her everything. Her answer was blunt.

“I adore that girl. Fuck her, darling, no one’s going to make her enjoy it like you will. But be gentle; I’m sure she needs that.”

I went up. I knocked on the door and it cracked open. I heard bare footsteps and a voice saying, “Come in.” In the middle of the room she was there, with just enough light to take her in completely. Standing there, legs crossed and arms behind her back, looking at me shyly and a little nervous. A sheer black top with nothing underneath, a thong, and, for the first time, her bare feet. Long blond hair, light eyes, pale skin, tall and voluptuous. Majestic.

I stepped closer and stroked her cheek. She smiled. Then she hugged me tightly, pressing her nipples into my chest, and I felt her body crush against the bulge already straining my trousers. We kissed slowly, our tongues seeking each other without hurry. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, as if I were dreaming. I traced her back, grabbed her ass with both hands, and pulled her against me.

I sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt between her legs. I kissed her neck slowly and took off her top. Her breasts were firm, upright, with pink, hard nipples. I took one in each hand and ran my tongue over them, unhurried, alternating, until she started moaning and burying her fingers in my hair. She smelled of perfume and tasted sweet. I lost track of time there, until she was panting as if she might come just from that.

I laid her back and lowered my tongue over her belly, played with her navel and reached the edge of her thong. I slid it down slowly. Underneath was a small patch of blond hair and lips that were pink, shaved, and wet. I only brushed them with my lips and a gasp escaped her. I lifted her legs to finish undressing her and kissed her thighs, her calves, her feet. Then I stood her up and made her turn slowly, holding her hand, so I could take her all in. Stunning.

Then she undressed me. She took off my shirt while kissing my chest, undid my belt, and tugged my trousers down. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, so she got a surprise.

“You’re going to kill me,” she said, never taking her eyes off me.

She stroked me with a tenderness I hadn’t expected.

I laid her on the bed so she’d be comfortable and went back to tracing her body with my mouth. I lingered on her breasts, played with her nipples, and went down between her legs again. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, slowly, while slipping in first one finger and then two. She was drenched, soft in a way I had rarely felt. I touched her inside slowly, teasing the tip of my tongue where she liked it most, until she arched her back, grabbed her breasts, and her whole body tightened.

“I’m coming, love,” she shouted, and convulsed beneath me.

I let her rest. I sat beside her watching her, smiling, lost in the ceiling. After a while she sat up, took me gently to check how hard I was, and asked me to fuck her slowly.

“Only my husband’s been in there, and he’s not that big.”

I sat her on top of me.

“Help yourself,” I told her.

She knelt down, rubbed me against her lips, and, bending her legs, began taking me in centimeter by centimeter, settling in, moaning, until our bodies collided. She stayed still for a moment, as if letting herself get used to it, and then wrapped her legs around me and drove her nipples into my chest again.

I grabbed her ass and started moving her: back and forth, up and down, in circles. A slow thrust that quickly soaked both of us. She clung to me and whispered broken things in my ear, little by little losing her fear of being overheard. Suddenly she pressed her hips against mine, taking me all the way in, and shouting in my ear, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she came apart in my arms. She stayed motionless, feeling the contractions of her own pleasure.

I laid her on her side, slid one leg over my body, and entered her again. From that position I could see myself sliding in and out of her. I fucked her slowly, so she could recover her strength but without letting her rest, while she smiled at me and played with my hair. I wanted very much to finish inside her. I asked if she was protected, and she pointed to her arm: she had an implant. I changed her position then to one I love: I put her legs over my shoulders, lifted her hips with my hands, and drove into her all the way. A cry of pleasure flooded the room.

I started gently, coming almost all the way out and then sinking back in completely. My hips gained rhythm and force. Nadia was out of control: shaking her head, pulling at her hair, biting her lips, trembling. Her gasps turned into screams. I don’t know how long we were like that, both of us on the edge without quite falling, her in nonstop pleasure and me in a tension that wouldn’t break. Until I felt her beginning to pulse and her whole body jerk.

“Love, love, I’m coming,” she repeated.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I let go inside her while her body tightened around mine. On the last thrust I stayed buried, motionless, emptying myself. I lowered her legs from my shoulders and lay on top of her without pulling out. She hugged me.

“What have you done to me, Daniel? What have you done to me?” she murmured.

The room fell silent. We got up and ran to the bathroom, laughing. Afterward she curled up against me, intending to sleep, but I started playing with my fingers in her pubic hair, giving it little tugs, and she laughed, asking me if I liked it. I slid my finger to her clit, small and very hard, and started stroking it while kissing her breasts. Her breathing quickened, everything became wet again, and she stretched her legs out fully until she came again, this time in silence, as if she wanted to keep it just for us.

She didn’t even rest. She got up and started sucking me right there, struggling to take me all the way, but doing an excellent job. She got me hard again. I asked if she wanted me to fuck her again and she said yes. I put her on all fours and went in with a single thrust. The room filled with her moans. From the very start I set a near-frenetic pace that she accepted effortlessly, her head pressed to the pillow, biting it. I alternated: sometimes I held her by the hips, other times I grabbed her breasts to push harder.

We returned to that point where she remained in continuous pleasure and I teetered on the edge without falling. “Give me more, love, give me more,” she shouted in broken bursts. When she exploded, her contractions were so intense they dragged my own orgasm along with them. I came while giving her the final thrusts as she went limp in my hands. I held her until I laid her beside me. She hugged me, and all she had time to say was “thank you, love” before falling asleep with a satisfied smile.

***

The phone woke me: a message from my wife. It was late, a little over an hour left until breakfast. I woke Nadia with a kiss on the lips and went back to my room.

“See you, love,” she said.

The four of us had breakfast as planned and went to catch the train. Everything seemed normal, except for the way she looked at me. She seemed utterly happy, to the point that my colleagues noticed and attributed it to the signing of the project.

On the return trip she sat with me again, while they stayed a couple of rows ahead. There weren’t many people and we enjoyed a certain intimacy. We didn’t speak directly about what had happened, but we did talk about her broken marriage and how difficult it was for her to reconcile family and work life with it. She was convinced she would separate, and what happened that night had given her the final push. She asked about my relationship with Lucía, and I made it clear to her that she was the woman of my life and that my life would end beside her. She took my hand and promised me that under no circumstances would she ever come between us. They knew each other well: they shared a gym and, from time to time, a coffee.

“The only thing I regret,” she said, “is doing to another woman what so many have done to her.”

I was on the verge of telling her everything. For now I kept quiet. It was a long trip and, at the same time, far too short. With her I felt at ease, but I didn’t know whether I would get another chance. I had put out a fire without knowing whether it would light up again.