1. Sixth time's the charm


    Date: 9/2/2017, Categories: Interracial, Author: SirSpewalot, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories

    One Friday evening when I was twenty-six, I was walking home late from work and passed the hotel next to the small convention center in our little city. It had been a long week and the neon light of the bar next to the lobby suddenly made my mouth water. I went inside and surveyed the scene. The bar was half-full, and the crowd there was clearly all out of town businessmen and businesswomen looking for fun. I ordered a shot of whiskey and went to a small table in the corner to unwind. A few minutes later a well-dressed blonde in her late thirties sat down and struck up a conversation, and within twenty minutes she had brought me back to her room, where we used each other’s bodies for every fantasy we could think up for three and a half hours. After we had thoroughly drained each other, she said she needed her sleep and chatted with me as I dressed. “Do you do this often?” I asked. “On business trips, oh yes. I get what I need and can’t get at home.” “Oh,” I said. “So this is it then.” “Of course. It was great though.” I smiled and said, “Yes, it really was.” “Do you hang out in the bar here?” “Um, no, this was my first time. —At the bar, I mean.” We laughed and she said, “I thought so.” “Is this common?” “Best pick-up joint in town, if you’re looking for a one-time fling with a better sort of woman.” “You are that .” She smiled, “Thank you.” “So, how do you know...” “What to do? Dress well, like you did tonight, and the woman will make it clear. The liquor’s shit, you know, ...
    cut all to water, so you don’t go there for just drinks. The woman will be looking for fun and nothing permanent, so if you’re reasonably presentable and smooth at all you’ll be in like Flynn.” I said good night and went home, happily aware of my new joint. Bars and clubs didn’t interest me much; I had long been interested in calmer, more serious women after a couple of relationships with younger women who were about as stable as a squirrel who had snuck into a meth lab. The next four months I made myself known at the bar as a regular; I stopped off two nights a week during the work week just to become friends with the staff and enjoy myself. Weekends were different, for I would show up Friday or Saturday (some weekends both) about eight and rarely have to stay more than half an hour. I would then stagger home about midnight, exhausted and fascinated by the sexual prowess, openness, and kinkiness of the average American businesswoman, or at least the subset of them that would take advantage of the hotel bar, and considered buying condoms by the crate load to get the wholesale discount. By that time I was a deft hand at the thing, and several of the staff members had become friends of mine who welcomed my business: I always tipped very well, rarely occupied prime real estate at the fastest hours, never caused trouble for them or the women customers, and above all never hit on the women on the staff. One Friday in September, four months after starting there, I went in about 8:15 ...
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