The End of the Drought

Implied nudity and consensual relationship. Enjoy.

How to end a drought.

Play the game.

The warm-up.

Each business trip is different, of course. Sometimes, she gets invited to dinner the evening before. Usually not. Sometimes she stays in her hotel room, feasting on room service selections and anything on the Hallmark Channel. Other times, she'll research where to eat, finding local specialties.

When she's out by herself, invariably someone will ask if he can join her. Often, she will say yes and enjoy the conversation and light flirtation. Occasionally, she has joined whoever she has met for the night. Though she has usually enjoyed those evenings, she will tell herself the next morning, that she is not "that kind of girl".

Come to think of it, it's been several months, maybe close to a year since she has explored an unfamiliar city on her own.

The final preparations

Tonight, she feels restless. She starts to freshen up, changes her mind and starts again. After taking the time to repair her make-up, she changes into her 'good' suit, the one she will wear tomorrow to her meeting.

For a few minutes she watches a tennis match. It's a game she played - with marginal success - in her youth. She briefly admires the concentration and skill of the two men, battling in the Melbourne midday heat. Gathering her resolve, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she walks to the elevator.

The opponent.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he stands in the middle of his suite and watches a tennis match for a few minutes. Living in a hotel is fine for a while, but he should call that realtor and see about finding a place of his own. He feels restless tonight. Needs to go out and unwind. Has practically lived like a monk since the divorce. He shrugs into his jacket. Right. Let's go get a drink, maybe find someone to talk with, maybe dinner, maybe more.

One minute warning.

The lounge is mercifully dark and almost empty. Several tables are scattered about the small room. The dark wood bar along the back wall, with its brass rail and tall stools is impressive. She gives the bartender a shaky smile as she slides onto one of the stools. "Scotch, please. Neat." In a corner, a television is mutely playing the tennis match.

The liquor is both rich and sharp. Not her usual brand. Her heart is still beating too fast, her body tense, her stomach churning. Why is she here? What made her change her routine tonight? Maybe it's because tomorrow is her thirty-fifth birthday. Maybe she's afraid that she is getting too old to play? Why is she nervous? Well, it has been about a year since she played this game. That's a long dry spell.

She smiles ruefully. A year is not a dry spell. A year is a drought.

Quiet, please

Play.

May I buy you a drink? (His serve).

I'm good, thank you. (Her weak return lands in the middle of the court).

Yes, I figured you'd be good. That's why I asked. (Inside-in forehand).

He's tall dark and handsome and he knows it. One corner of his mouth is turned up in a lazy smile. A well-tailored suit, a crisp white shirt, top buttons undone, steel grey tie that matches his eyes. He's casually leaning back on one elbow, legs crossed at the ankles.

The ball is in her court. She'll confess, she's always enjoyed playing this game, though she is woefully out of practice.

How often does that line work? She smiles hesitantly. (A weak backhand).

You'd be surprised. He leans in while the bartender places fresh drinks in front of them. (His forehand down the line passes for a winner).

One - Love.

Business or pleasure? (His serve).

Business, you? (A forehand return).

Business, but I'm not opposed to mixing. You? (Cross-court slice).

I usually don't mix. (She rushes to the sideline and chips the return).

But you can be persuaded. (The drop shot).

She raises her eyebrows, but she's not fast enough.

Two - Love.

What's the nature of your business? (Her serve is rusty, lands short in the court).

I prefer to talk about pleasure. (He's quick with a chip return).

She takes a sip from her drink, letting the smooth liquor roll over her tongue and slide down her throat. This came from the top shelf. He's patuently waiting for her to get to the ball.

Then what's the nature of your pleasure? (She scrambles and sends up a lob).

I'll be glad to show you. (His smash is a winner).

Three - Love.

Room 1021. I'll wait ten minutes. He slides a hotel key card toward her and leaves (His serve).

She watches him walk away. (The ball passes her. Ace).

Four - Love.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Will she continue this game? He's so far out of her league. Would accepting his invitation be a weakness or a strength? Inspire respect or contempt? Does it matter?

She swallows the last of her drink, slides off the bar stool, straightens her skirt, grabs her purse and takes a step away from the bar.

She stops, pauses, turns around and palms the card. (Double fault).

Five - Love.

When the green light blinks, she opens the door. The room is dimly lit. She can see the silhouette of him, lounging in one of the chairs at the far side of the room.

Come in. Close the door and turn around. I'll give you one chance. The door is in front of you. Leave now or stay. (His serve).

Hesitantly, she raises her hand toward the knob. Then she reminds herself that if she leaves now, she'll probably never get another chance to play this game. Her hand drops to her side. (Her return falls into the net).

Six - Love

First set to him.

She tells herself she can handle this, but then she also believes in shampoo commercials.

Very well. Take off your jacket. (His serve).

Taking a shuddering breath, letting the blue gabardine slide off her shoulders, she sees a chair nearby and places her purse and jacket in its seat. (She's too tense to raise her racket. Ace).

One - Love.

The blouse, please. (His serve).

With trembling fingers, she unbuttons her blouse and drops the polyester satin on the chair. (Her hands shake too much to reach for the ball. She watches helplessly as it passes. Ace).

Two - Love.

And the skirt. (His serve).

She lowers the zipper and lets the skirt slide down her hips. It too, is placed on the chair. On trembling legs, she faces the door, dressed in sensible two-inch pumps, white cotton briefs and matching bra. (Her feet won't move. Ace).

Three - Love. (This match is going way too fast).

Very nice. In front of you, on the floor is a blindfold. Put it on. (his serve)

Really? She gasps, playing for time. (Her return ricochets off the net to bounce high and deep.).

Now! His voice is less cordial. (She ducks to avoid his smash).

She picks up the blindfold, slides it over her eyes and adjusts the elastic in the back. Her breath catches, she swallows her fear. Or is that excitement?

Four - Love.

You asked what my pleasure is. I enjoy being in charge. His voice is soft and warm in her ear. A shiver runs down her spine when she realizes how close he is.

Take two steps back and turn around. (His serve).

She can't see the ball. (Ace).

Five - Love.

A touch on her left hip. A nail trails across her back. A hand slides over the swell of her right breast. Fingers toy with the elastic of her briefs. His voice is a mere whisper in her left ear. You are very beautiful. I shall enjoy playing with you tonight. (He knows she has conceded the match).

Six - Love.

Game, set and match to him.

She whimpers, her breath catches, her legs tremble. His touch has stirred half-forgotten needs. She waits, wanting to learn how he plays this game. She is eager to end her drought.

The post-game analysis.

She's early for her meeting. As usual, she carefully prepares and reviews her presentation. When she is satisfied that she is ready, she turns to the window and tries to calm her nerves. Restlessly shifting her weight, she tries desperately not to think of last night.

Good morning, Miss Reed. Recognizing his voice, having heard it most of the night, she whirls around.

He's stopped short after entering the conference room, hand outstretched in greeting. A neutral polite expression quickly segues into recognition and settles in a lazy half smile.

Oh, ....!