It was meant to be a one-night thing.

I was between boyfriends—though that was a bit of a misnomer, as I wasn’t usually the sort of girl who got boyfriends anymore. Having hit my thirties, it seemed like men were like parking spaces: all the good ones were either taken or handicapped. Not that I knew what a “good one” actually was; my last boyfriend had been anemic in bed, to put it generously.

And I hadn’t had sex in ... well, far too long. Even counting that.

So I had an idea. There was a technical conference in Chicago I’d signed up to attend, and my employer would pay. A full week in another city to myself to learn and grow my skills. But the last day of the conference always ended early, and I’d booked myself an extra day, ostensibly to sightsee.

But my real goal was to get laid.

I’d always wanted to do a one-night stand, just once. And this was the perfect opportunity: a night alone in a far-away city. A hotel with a decent bar. A town crawling with men horny after a week at a technical conference. Even a gawky woman like me could find something, right?

So I was going to do it. And as I planned for it, I also realized that I hadn’t been on birth control for a while; the pill messed with me, and I hadn’t really considered an IUD. I could ask about condoms, but I hated them. I did the math, and the day I was going to do it was ... well, I wanted to tell myself it was a safe day, but I knew it wasn’t. At least it wasn’t ovulation day or anything—but I also knew my cycle was just irregular enough, it would have been really close.

But what’s life without a little risk? I decided to go for it. I was a lucky girl, and had always been good about being protected in the past. Just one time, for the risk, and I should be fine, right?

My skin felt like it was on fire as I got ready for the evening. After a week of focusing on tech, my body was so very ready for this. I’d gotten back in the early afternoon, and started with a shower, treating it like a date night. Body polish, a shave, moisturizing lotions, the whole nine yards.

After a light, later dinner, I slid on a smart little black dress: a cute number that complemented my body, making my slightly-small breasts look a little bigger and my waist a little smaller. Knee-length, with just enough flair to add a cute touch. A pair of black pumps finished the outfit. Somewhere on the casual side, but not too casual—the sort of thing a girl might wear to a date.

I finished with my makeup, pulling out a bold crimson lipstick for effect and a soft blue eyeshadow to complement my eyes, in supplement the usual array. As I looked in the mirror with each thing, I got more and more excited about what I was going to do.

I was going to have sex with a total stranger—I might not even know his name!—and I was going to unabashedly enjoy it! And I was gambling with my fertility!

By the time I finished and grabbed my little black purse, I was half ready to just look up some porn on my phone and get myself off right there. But no, I had a plan.

I was horny, and I was going to get laid.

I ended up taking the elevator down with a two parents and their teenage son; both the son and the husband kept looking at me, and I smiled at them, feeling thrilled at attracting the attention, even if it was also a little creepy, being on an elevator and all.

The wife gave me a disapproving look as we all got off the elevator, and the three of them wandered off to whatever families would do on a Friday night. As for me, I headed straight for the hotel bar.

It was relatively sparse when I got there; a lot of people took evening flights home to get back to their families, which was typical. But I didn’t want someone with a family.

I smiled as I walked in, catching the eyes of a couple of men eating dinner at various tables, though several of them were already with other people. I was on the prowl, and I wanted to make that obvious, though of those men, none of them really caught my eye.

“What’ll it be, sweetie?” the bartender asked as I slid onto a stool. There was only one other person at the bar, an elderly white gentleman who was more interested in his newspaper than in me.

“Let’s just start with a Shirley Temple,” I suggested, curling my lips up suggestively. The bartender was cute, if a little too young and tattooed for my tastes otherwise.

He looked puzzled. “Dirty?”

“No, I don’t actually drink,” I admitted. Not strictly true, but I was planning on having a one-night stand; I didn’t need alcohol addling my senses any more than the intense need between my legs already was. “But make it look fancy.”

“As the lady wishes,” he said with a small laugh. As he went to work, I fished out some dollar bills from my purse and put them in the tip jar.

In short order, he handed me the drink, and I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He glanced around and noticed there weren’t any other patrons clamoring for his attention. “So what’s a girl like you doing at a joint like this?”

“On the prowl,” I said with a small laugh. It felt so freeing to admit it. Even coming to terms with my own sexual desire had been such a struggle—but here, knowing that everyone was a complete stranger I would never see again made it easier to open up.

He just smiled and shook his head. “Well, sorry, but my boyfriend gets kinda jealous, you know?”

I laughed at his joke. “You’re a little young for me anyway.”

He smirked. “Good luck and stay safe.”

Of course, part of the point was that I wasn’t being safe. There was always a possibility I had an egg just about ready to begin its journey. “Always,” I lied, and he wandered off to bother the gentleman with the newspaper.

It didn’t take long before someone tapped my shoulder. I turned, and he was a white guy, a little on the older side. Ugly, not really pudgy but clearly hadn’t cared much about keeping his weight low. “Hello there miss,” he said, a rasp in his voice I recognized as being a smoker. “Mind if I buy you a drink?”

I looked down at my own, which was still three-fourths full from my very light sipping of it. “Depends on how long I let you stick around.”

“I’m Jacob,” he said, extending a hand.

“Lucy,” I replied, taking it; the grip was way too hard, and I decided that he just wasn’t cute enough to bother continuing with. But men never take a hint, so I smiled at him.

“So uh, what’re you up to?” He got in close. Too close too soon, and I started to bristle. I tried meeting the bartender’s eyes, but he was too busy with another patron. “I guess your boyfriend’s in town for the developer convention?”

I already had him steadily in the “no” camp, but that put it over the top. “I am,” I said, trying to make my voice sound cold.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have realized.” He was trying really hard to sound ashamed, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“What about you?”

“Same, same. I’m really excited about the new git history tooling they introduced. You know, how it’s able to read all of the blobs—you know, git stores things in blobs under the hood, but that’s probably really advanced for you.”

I kept up the polite smile, thoroughly glad my drink was not alcoholic. He of course had no idea that I was a contributor to the git project, and was considered one of the experts on git plumbing in my division of the company “Mmhmm,” I said, stroking his ego a little more, edging back, trying to find a way out.

“Oh hey, Sally!” another male voice said, and I turned to it because of its proximity. Another white man had more or less snuck up on us. Tall, handsome, with slightly graying hair and a nicely chiseled jawline, with a face that reminded me just a little of a Hollywood actor. And a rolling voice that sounded like violins to my ears.

“Lucy,” I chided. “Sally was the brunette I was with.” It was a fabrication, and I had no idea if this guy would be any better than Jacob, but I was willing to take that chance.

“Right, right,” he said, ignoring Jacob’s dirty glances at being cock-blocked, and instead continued to smile that winsome smile at me. I noticed he had a fizzy drink in his hand that looked like soda. “Sorry, names are hard and you remind me of a Sally back home.”

“Hey, I was talkin’ with her,” Jacob finally protested.

I decided to speak up. “Sorry, Jacob, but uh ... Steve here and I actually are both contributors to git, and we were talking shop earlier today and got interrupted by some colleagues.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed, undoubtedly recognizing the faux pas he had made with me. “If you’re both contributors to git, why didn’t you know her name?”

“It’s a big project, and we work on different parts,” the other man said. “Anyways, Lucy, I believe you were explaining to me how the git tree hash algorithm is being optimized in this next update.”

“Yeah! I was telling you about the B-tree implementation, right?” Jacob got the hint and walked away, undoubtedly looking for some other poor woman to harass. I smiled at the man in front of me, drinking in his body far more than the drink in my hand. Probably mid-thirties, with a trim body that spoke to daily exercise, if not extreme training. Wearing a light blue polo and some black slacks. Somewhere on the casual side of business, but not too casual. The sort of thing he would maybe wear to a date night.

He stuck out a hand. “Gary, by the way.”

“Lucy,” I said, shaking it. His hand was smooth, and his grip wasn’t bone-crushing in the slightest. “And thank you.”

“Always a pleasure,” he said raising his glass. “So, the git tree hash is a B-tree? Sorry, I never really followed git internals, but I guess you did?”

“I’m not actually sure,” I admitted. “My contributions to the repo have all been in the porcelain layer.”

He smiled. “I probably don’t need to ask you if you’re here for the conference.” I nodded, and he continued, “What was your favorite talk?”

“Hmm...” I tried to make a production out of it as I thought. “Probably the one on reactive UIs in Elm. I’ve mostly stuck with backend work in Kotlin lately, so it was great to see the other side. How about you?”

“Just a business analyst, I’m afraid. They’ve occasionally had me do some code here and there, but I’m not all that good at it, I’m just good at faking it.” His smile was absolutely charming, and I felt my knees get weak as he gave it to me. The clawing need between my legs told me I wanted to go back to a hotel room with this man, assuming he stayed just as charming. “So I really appreciated the talk about the impacts of cloud computing on the global south. I don’t think we as an industry think enough about the long-term effects of our resource consumption, especially in light of colonialism.”

Another smile from me, and I decided to be bold. “I’ve heard that sort of line so much I can’t tell if you’re serious or you’re just saying what you think is the right thing to get into my panties.”

“Why not a little of both?” A touch of a smirk hit his lips, but not an ugly one—no, a cute one, a flirty one.

“There are some southern things that I wouldn’t mind discussing,” I suggested, taking a sip of my drink. “But only if I think it’ll be worthwhile.”

“So you’re here for the same reason I am, then,” he said, setting his own drink on the bar. “To discuss methods of forking processes.”

“What are your thoughts about not having a firewall?” God, this was so much fun! Someone who knew enough tech speak to actually flirt like this!

“I’d say a penetration test would be necessary.” He stepped a little closer, but still not too close. He was clearly letting me control the situation. “But only with prior authorization, because you never know what sort of security breach could entail.”

“So, you do know how to check the consistency of that kind of disk, right?” I also wanted to know just how much of his knowledge was charm.

“Hmmm... , “ he said, putting on a show of thinking. “That’s when you mount it, then ef sock it, right?” The thing in question was fsck, and he passed that test with flying colors.

I laughed. “I always thought of that as fisk.”

“Do you have a disk that needs a consistency check?”

“Not in public,” I smirked, taking another sip.

“Well, I’ve got a room, and maybe you can bring your equipment, and we can run some of the tests I was suggesting.”

It was stupid. I knew it was. A one-night stand was stupid, especially with a man I just met, who charmed me with computer puns and didn’t belittle my programming skill. But I was horny, and I needed a dick in me so badly. So I did it. I nodded and set my drink on the bar where the bartender could take it. “I’ll follow you.”

He also set his drink on the bar and offered his elbow for me to take. My knees again softened—what a classy gesture—as I hooked my arm in his and let him lead me.

As we walked to the elevator, he said, “You don’t smell like alcohol at all. What were you drinking?”

With him mentioning it, I realized I didn’t smell any on him, either. “Just a Shirley Temple. You?”

“So wait, does that mean you’re a virgin?”

I laughed. “Not in the slightest!”

He laughed, too. “Good, because I would have wondered how a beautiful woman like you went so long without.” The elevator dinged. “Mine was just a Sprite.”

We stepped in and he pushed the button for his floor. I tilted my head as I looked at him. “No alcohol, either?”

He looked ashamed and scratched the side of his head. “Well, I don’t really drink all that much. I prefer to be sober if I’m going to be talking to women. I find the alcohol makes me more social, but makes it much harder to be witty.”

I smiled. “I don’t drink much, either, for a similar reason.”

“Lucky I found you then, huh,” he said with a laugh.

We stood in the elevator elbow-in-elbow for an awkward silence as it reached his floor, and I followed him out. His room was just a few down the hall, and he fished a card key out of his pocket.

“Just to be clear,” he said, sliding it into the door and unlocking it. “You’re coming in here because you want to have sex with me, and I want to have sex with you. That’s what I got from our conversation in the bar, but I wanted to be sure you had the same understanding.”

I paused, surprised. “Uh, yes?” I said. He was actually making his intentions clear? I supposed doing the same would be good. “That’s what I was thinking. But just a one-time thing, since we’ll be heading back to our respective cities—no, don’t tell me—and I’m just horny as hell and you’re cute as fuck, so let’s just have some fun together.”

“And also, I have condoms if—”

“Hate ‘em,” I interrupted. “I’m clean.”

“So am I. But I haven’t gotten snipped or anything, so—”

I smiled at him. “That’s my problem, then.” God! The risk! Yes, I was probably on a safe day, but I just couldn’t be completely sure.

He smiled back at me, pushing the door open. “Alright. Like I said, just wanted to be absolutely clear, and give you the opportunity to back out if it’s not what you wanted.”

I smiled at him again as I walked in, wondering if there was some catch. “Believe me, I want this.”

He stepped in and closed the door, and I turned and fell into his embrace, and the two of us kissed.

It was like fireworks going off. Well, not quite. There wasn’t any love or anything, just the spark of physical attraction. We both had a deep physical need, and it came through as our tongues played with each other, our hands roaming each other’s bodies. But he didn’t push, didn’t test the limits—he seemed to just enjoy the feeling of lips on lips and tongues on tongues.

As we broke for air, I wrapped my arms around his neck, locking my hands behind him. “You’re a good kisser,” I said.

“So’re you, but you kiss like you haven’t been kissed in years.”

“I haven’t, not really,” I said. “I’m just so ... hungry right now.”

“Then let me be your buffet and eat all you like,” he said, leaning in and putting his forehead against mine. “And I’ll share the innuendo, and mention that I also like eating out, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Mmhmm,” I confirmed and our lips met again. This time he stepped, gently guiding me into the room, and as we broke for air again, I took the hint, stepping in.

A single bed, a small suitcase off to the side, a laptop on the desk. Nicely tidy for a man’s hotel room, but he had probably been planning on bringing a girl back to it. Like he did.

At the foot of the bed, we kissed again, and his hands explored a little more, holding my ass tightly and pulling me to him. I felt the hardness of his erection against my thigh, matching the wetness growing in my depths. I knew what men wanted, and I was willing to give it to him, at least a little. I wanted him.

Another break, and my hands were on his chest, pushing gently, suggesting he sit on the bed. Then down, to his belt, working to undo it.

He took the hint and helped me, dropping his pants, and I slid down to my knees, looking at his boxer-clad cock. I looked back up at him. “May I?”

“Of course,” he said, pushing his boxers down and sitting on the edge of the bed.

His cock was beautiful. At least, as beautiful as cocks ever were. Stately and magnificent, so perfect for licking and tasting, or plunging deep into possibly-fertile depths. It was nice and hard of course, and a good, moderate size.