(Note: If you haven't followed Sally from my other stories, well, don't worry. She's pretty self explanatory.)
Sally was bored. The slender older ("40's something, if you please!") brunette glared around her hotel room as though it was the room disappointing her. She kicked off her flats and proceeded to scatter her gray business pants suit around the room. She flopped back on the bed, lifting her hips and dragging her pantyhose down her shapely legs. She tossed them aside, leaving her clad only in her white bra and panties.
She didn't like being alone. She did have to travel for business purposes a number of times a year. Usually she and her long time girlfriend MaryAnn could arrange their schedules to travel with each other. This time, though, MaryAnn had ended up on the West Coast and she was on the other side of the country.
Sally pouted. MaryAnn was in San Francisco this week. Sally was willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that her lover wasn't spending the night alone. There was a certain girl in "Sin Francisco" that the two of them had met on a previous trip. MaryAnn probably already had her on her hands and knees. Not that she was jealous. When they were apart, neither of them expected the other to be celibate. Besides, Sally giggled to herself, MaryAnn knew that Sally enjoyed a real cock occasionally, something that MaryAnn didn't care for, but tolerated in her partner because she loved her. The girl in 'Frisco loved them too. She and Sally had spent one night...
Well, THAT wasn't helping. Sally stretched her arms and legs. This bed was nice, but way too big to be alone in. It felt comfortable though. Maybe she should just curl up here, finish reading the new Nora Roberts mystery she had picked up before the flight and just go to sleep.
"Get real, Sally!" she scolded herself as she bounced up off the mattress. She scampered to the dresser, shedding her underwear as she went. She grabbed the paper and turned to the sports section. College football tonight. And her old alma mater was playing the hated cross state rivals. Too bad she couldn't have gotten tickets for that. The last time she had been she had wound up in somebody's skybox and had shagged everyone in the room.
Sally tossed the paper aside and headed for the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, she turned on the hot water. She squeezed body wash over herself. She scrubbed herself with the wash cloth, her hand ending up, as it always seemed to, between her legs.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the shower wall, the ceramic tiles cool against her skin. She rubbed the washcloth over her neatly trimmed bush. Her legs slid apart and she pressed the cloth between her labia, enjoying the feel of it in her slit. The water beat on her breasts, running down her body. She rubbed faster, her thumb dipping under her hood to press on her clit.
"Football games," she mused. Always her favorite sport. Had been ever since high school. She strove to recall the name of her first guy, the one she had slipped under the bleachers with that cool October night. She moaned slightly as her hand speed increased. The cloth was slick and at the same time delightfully scratchy along her pussy. Scott, that was it. Poor Scott. He had barely got in in her before he came. He had been so embarrassed. Three years later she had looked him up. Sneaking into the stadium, they had repeated that night, except this time she sucked him back hard after he came. Twice in fact.
"Speaking of cumming." Sally's eyes popped open. The washcloth fell from her hand. She slid two fingers deep into herself and rammed them home. Her forefinger joined her thumb and a single pinch of her clit was enough to win her release.
That was delightful, but not hardly enough. Absently, she sucked her fingers clean, and then finished washing. She hopped from the shower, patting herself dry. As it always did when she was thinking, the tip of her tongue showed between her lips as she tried to decide what to wear. Something sexy, that was a given. Sally barely had anything that wasn't designed with sexy in mind. Sometimes she wondered if she was a nymphomaniac. She didn't think so, her readings seemed to show that women actually afflicted with that mental disorder craved sex, but didn't actually enjoy it very often. She certainly enjoyed it.
Sally shrugged. "I just like sex." she said aloud. She donned a white lace bra and dug out the matching panties and garter belt. She rolled a pair of white silk stockings up her legs and fastened the broad flowery band to the snaps of the garter belt. She then donned her panties. "After all," she reasoned, "Just because the panties come off is no reason I might not want to keep the stockings on." She wiggled into a moderately tight dress, cut some three inches above the knees. She grabbed a pair of matching heels and a small clasp.
She looked in the mirror, "Good lord, I'm practically virginal. This will never do." She hiked he skirt up, kicked her heels off and pulled her panties off. Satisfied, she slipped her feet back into her heels, checked the time on the gold watch she fastened around her wrist and headed out.
First stop was the one of the hotel's restaurants. She chose the one that was closest to the sports bar on the mezzanine floor. She ordered a chef's salad and skipped even light dressing with it. After all, she planned to use several days worth of calories on beer and snacks. MaryAnn would tease her about her butt being two inches bigger by the time she got home, but damn, Sally felt it wasn't a real football game without beer and hot wings and potato skins.
Speaking of that, she dug out her cell phone and pressed the first number stored. There were six rings and then a gasped "What, honey?".
"Oh darn, sweetheart, you're busy already. I'm sorry." Sally pressed the phone closer to her ear. Sure enough, she grinned as she heard pants and moans and a slapping sound repeated again and again. "Pounding her good aren't you? Must have her on her hands and knees." There was a strangled grunt that she took for agreement. "Well I just wanted to let you know I'm safe here, eating supper and going to go watch the ballgame. Maybe I'll get as lucky as you tonight."
"I hope so baby," her lover replied. "Damn this girl is tight. She sucks a mean strapon too."
Sally giggled. "Kiss her once for me and tell her I wish I was with the two of you. I love you."
"Love you too, sweets. Gotta go, I'm going to spank her now."
"Fuck her good. Byeeeeeee." Sally hit the "End" button and dropped the phone in her clasp, smiling brightly at the passing waiter who had stopped short at her words, standing there with his mouth open. He was cute, but too young. She polished off her salad and leaned back. The familiar itch was back already and she wanted to get laid. Now then, male or female tonight?
She had been looking casually around the dining room. Lots of interesting looking people. And there was one couple looking at her that made her think that possibly she wouldn't have to make that gender choice tonight.
Sally studied them carefully but unobtrusively. They were both in their mid-forties, she judged, the man a couple years older than the woman. They were pleasant looking, both brown haired, obviously married from both the rings on their fingers and from the way they sat comfortably together at their table. The woman was attractive without being gorgeous, the man no hunk but still a good looking guy.
They seemed to be whispering together while stealing glances at her. Just to make sure she was the focus of their attention, Sally leaned back slightly in her chair. She slipped her feet from her shoes and proceeded to rub the bottom of one foot slowly along the top of the other. Not only did the cool nylon feel sensual sliding along her skin, but the sharp intake of breath from the couple confirmed their interest.
Hmmmm, that felt good. She ran her foot up the side of her leg, then back down again. She crossed her ankles in the other direction and used the toes of one foot to stroke the bottom of the other from heel to toes. She squeezed her thighs together and...
"Shit!" Sally's eyes popped open, having closed them in pure enjoyment. She was in the middle of a damn restaurant. Not that she wasn't capable of a bit of exhibitionism when the time was right, but the time wasn't right. She slipped her shoes back on, signed the bill laying beside her plate and stood. She passed the couple on her way to the door. Moved by one more wicked thought, she paused, lifted her skirt and adjusted the garter belt clasp on the top of her right stocking. The resultant simultaneous spilling of two glasses from the target table was very satisfactory.
Sally glanced behind her and waited for a few minutes in the hallway. No couple appeared. She shrugged finally and headed for the sports bar. She wormed her way to the bar, using both her appealing crooked grin and a couple of sharp elbows to claim a stool and get a cold bottle of beer just before kickoff. She was happy the set was turned to the correct game. Some of the people here tonight looked too much even for her to handle at least without MaryAnn, maybe even with Rizzo or Randi as backups.
She enjoyed the first half, even getting into a great shouting match with a burly guy who looked like he wrestled 18 wheelers for a living. However he proved to be a poor loser; when the half expired with her team leading his by 24 points he slammed his beer on the bar (drank it out of a glass and not the bottle, the sissy, she noted) and left. There went her plans to show him who was tops in the bedroom department as well.
.... There is more of this story ...