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Layover Interlude

Category: Mature
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Francine too a small sip of her Long Island Iced Tea and glanced around the hotel’s small bar. An older couple sat at one of the tables, talking quietly and laughing together. Two men, both in their mid-forties sat at another table talking about football over a pitcher of beer. Another table was occupied by an older woman and a younger man, heads together, whispering into each other’s ears. The bartender, a man in his late fifties or very early sixties was hanging glasses in the rack over the bar. Francine was the only other patron.

Francine was supposed to be in Los Angeles by now, but her flight had been delayed, then canceled until the snowstorm that was now burying Denver cleared up enough to open the airport back up. Francine and the other passengers were staying at the hotel until the airline notified them when their flight was rescheduled.

Francine twisted the engagement ring on her finger as she thought about David, her fiancée. He had been against this trip, not understanding her desire to visit Nina when their wedding was only four weeks away. He had even warned her of the possibility of encountering problems with the weather, and when that failed, had even resorted to trying to frightening her by rehashing 9-11 and events since that day. But Francine was not detoured by his tactics. She had to get away, find time to think. The closer the wedding, the more doubts she’s been having. She and David had known each other since the third grade. They had remained friends through high school, never dating each other, officially, but always there for each other when one or the other of them was between “steadies,” and even going to different collages, they had stayed in touch, both moving back to Wichita after college.

David was in sales for a farm equipment company and Francine was teaching third grade. They had more or less gravitated into dating each other the last couple of years, and getting engaged seemed the most logical next step. Francine didn’t think he’d ever proposed, just got her the ring earlier that year for her birthday and assumed the engagement was a done thing between them. Francine hadn’t bothered to deny his assumption, willing to fall into the future their families and friends surmised awaited the two of them.

Nina, now living in California, was the only one who called into question Francine’s passive acceptance of the future as David saw it. Francine needed to spend time with her friend, away from David, away from her family who would think she was certifiable if she backed out at this late date. Yes, Nina who knew Francine even better than David did would be her sounding board, if, that is, she ever made it to Los Angeles.

The sound of shattering glass and voices raised in anger startled her out of her thoughts. She swung her head around and stared at the older woman and younger man who had been sitting at the table closest to the bar. The man was standing, a drink dripping from his hair and face, his shirt wet. A glass lay broken next to his chair. The woman was huddled in the chair, her head bowed, her chin sunk into her chest, shoulders shaking with obvious sobs. The man threw money down on the table, hurled a few insults at the cringing woman, and stalked out of the bar. The other patrons looked away as the woman continued to cry quietly. Francine found herself wondering about the relationship between the angry young man who had stalked out of the bar and the older woman now trying to wipe the tears from her face and get herself back into control. If Francine had thought of them at all before the outburst, she would have assumed they were mother and son. Now she was not sure. Would a Mother have reacted so violently to her child as to dash a drink in his face, and would a son have spoken aloud the insults he had hurled at the woman before leaving the bar? Francine shrugged, and turned away from the woman, taking another sip of her drink and returning to her own musings about her own problem of her relationship with David.

Half an hour later, Francine’s drink gone, she decided to go up to her room and get some sleep. She knew there would be no flights out until some time later that day, if at all. She wasn’t all that tired, but the bar was ready to close. As she rose from her chair she noticed that, other than herself and the bartender, the only other person in the room was the older woman who sat, an elbow on the table, her head bowed , propped in her hand. Francine started to leave the bar, then halted, undecided for a moment before she turned back to the woman. As Francine paused at the side of the table, the woman looked up, her eyes still shimmering with unshed tears, a look of utter weariness and even defeat, marring a face lovely even in distress. “Excuse me for intruding, but are you all right?” Francine asked in her soft voice. The woman looked at her, startled momentarily. “Is there any way I can help you?” Francine queried.

The woman obviously recognized Francine’s genuine concern because she once again wiped her eyes and spoke. “Thank you, but no. My friend and I have had a disagreement and parted ways. I just need to gather my thoughts, then get a room for myself as we were sharing one and he has informed me that he is retaining it for himself.”

Francine thought over the woman’s words before she spoke again. “I am afraid that might be a bit difficult. This storm has grounded all flights and I know the hotels nearest the airport are already filled. I understand a few people are even sleeping in chairs in the lobby.” The woman looked stunned and a little bit more lost. Francine spoke again, before she could begin to regret what she was about to do. “I have a room and if you wouldn’t mind sharing, you are welcome to spend the night there. Perhaps in the morning things will look better and you and your friend can work matters out between yourselves, or the storm will end and the runways cleared so the flights can begin again.”

The woman thought quickly, than agreed, introducing herself as Laine Preston, who like Francine, was stuck in Denver when her flight was delayed due to the blizzard. Francine waited as Laine gathered her purse and an overnight bag then lead the way across the lobby to the elevator. The two women made small conversation as the elevator rose to the sixth floor of the hotel. Francine used her keycard to let them into the room.

The room was furnished with a dresser, small refrigerator, queen-sized bed and two night stands. A television sat on a shelf attached to the wall. A generic hotel style oil painting hung on one wall. There was a dressing room with sink and mirror and hairdryer, then the bathroom with a combination bath/shower One side of the bed had already been turned down by Francine earlier, in anticipation of her eventual return to the room to sleep. Francine offered the bathroom to Laine first, telling her that she had to make a phone call to her friend in California. As the door closed behind Laine, Francine called Nina and let her know that it would be some time much later that day, if then, before she arrived in LA and that she would call again once she did know the approximate time of her arrival. They exchanged a few more words, but Francine did not mention Laine.” Shortly after she hung up, the bathroom door opened and Laine walked out.

Francine was startled at the change in the woman. Previously her hair had been pulled back and rolled into a knot at the top of her head. Now her long auburn hair, gently streaked with gray, hung down in waves to the middle of her back. She had been wearing a severely styled skit and jacket, but now her lush curves were visible through gossamer thin material of emerald green. Her toenails were painted the same deep crimson has her long fingernails. She wore no make-up, but her skin was smooth and unblemished, a healthy glow highlighting her prominent cheek bones. “I think I left you lots of hot water” Laine told Francine. Francine mumbled her thanks, gathered her things and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Francine striped off her clothes, neatly folding them, as was her habit. She let down her own burnished tresses, shaking them free, watching the way the light picked out the more golden strands from the slightly darker brown. She looked at her figure in the mirror. While her breast were not as lush and full as Laine’s, they were nicely shaped, firm with wide aureoles, and nipples that rose from the center; nipples that were now hard and aching for some reason that Francine did not understand. She ran her hands down her smooth stomach, over her flared hips, and then back up to her breasts, skimming her finger over the nipples, accepting the pleasure it gave her to do so. Then shaking her head, she turned on the shower and let the hot water spray across her her body. She used the fresh wash cloth to soap her body all over, her hands lingering at the curly haired jointure between her thighs. The kinky curls of her pubic hair caught the soap bubbles, and her fingers lovingly worked them, enjoying the sensations slowly building in her. She inserted a finger hesitatingly between her labia, stroking gently, fingering her clitoris with a single fingertip, teasing it and herself, until her arousal was so strong she felt the heat rising, building, her nerve endings tingling in that age-old sensation that signaled her climax. The hot water sluiced over her body as it shook with her release, her vaginal muscles clamping around the inserted finger. She used her free hand to steady herself against the wall until her body had had finished its quaking, then she shut off the water, stepped out of the shower and dried off her body.

When Francine left the bathroom she was wearing a black baby doll gown with matching lace panties. She had brushed her hair until it lay across her shoulders in soft waves. Her body had been powdered and lightly perfumed after her shower in a soft floral scent. Her nipples still throbbed and peaked with wanton need that had only been heightened by her shower release. Laine was already in the bed, laying on her back on one side of the bed. Only the light on the night stand on Francine’s side of the bed remained on, its shaded bulb casting a soft glow of light. Francine lay down in the bed, pulled the covers up over her, and reached to turn out the light. The two women lay in bed, side by side, quietly breathing.

Laine was the first to break the silence. “Thank you for taking me in like this. I was in a very difficult situation and hate to think of having to sit in the lobby all night. Rich and I have been having a rough time lately, and I am afraid this delay in our travel plans was the last straw as far as he was concerned.”

Francine wasn’t sure what to say, other than to assure Laine that it was no problem at all. “So Rich, is he your husband?” Laine didn’t answer right away, but when she did, her answer was not what Francine had expected to hear.

“No, he is, or was, my secretary. I just recently discovered that he has been systematically transferring certain funds from some accounts belonging to certain of my clients to one of his own. At the bar tonight he informed me that he had videos and sound recordings that could damage my credibility and the trust of some of my clients if they were released. The price of his silence was that I forget about his embezzlement and pay him another $50,000. I refused, punctuating my refusal with dashing my drink into his face.” Laine’s husky voice held a note of laughter at this last statement. “The look on his face was well worth the loss of what he has embezzled. He won’t dare go public, because then he knows I will prosecute him; plus some of the accounts he took money from belong to people he would not dare cross, if he but knew it.”

Francine’s curiosity was aroused. What could Rich be holding over this woman’s head that was powerful enough he thought he could blackmail her not only for he silence but also for such a large amount of money. Laine lay quietly next to Francine. Her next words shocked Francine. “I forgot a ring in the bathroom when I took my shower. I went into the bathroom to retrieve it and saw you through the shower curtain. I watched you. I could not help myself. And when you walked out of the bathroom a few minutes ago, I thought how sexy you looked, and I longed to touch you myself.”

Francine was shocked. She herself had felt something when Laine had walked out of the bathroom after her shower, and it was those feelings that had compelled her to to release some of the sexual tension she had felt. But, at Laine’s confession, Francine again felt the heat rise inside of her. She shifted her body slightly until she was laying on her side, facing Laine in the darkness of the room . Tentatively she snaked her hand out towards Laine’s body, unerringly finding a breast encased in the softest of materials, the nipple rapidly responding to Francine’s touch. Laine uttered a small moan and arched her body, pressing her breast more fully into Francine’s hand.

Laine shifted, turning on her side, reaching for Francine, drawing them together, her mouth seeking and finding Francine’s, probing with her tongue, pushing it’s way into her mouth. Her hands roamed freely over her body, finding and caressing Francine’s pert breasts, cupping them completely with her hands. Impatiently Laine pushed the short nightie up, uncovering Francine’s breasts. She pulled her mouth away from Francine’s and transferred it to a breast, able to take almost the whole breast into her wet mouth. She sucked on it, teasing the nipple with her teeth. One hand traveled down Francine’s body and, reaching the curls that covered her labia, she cupped and pressed her hand over the mound, massaging it for several long moments before she inserted a long nailed finger into Francine, carefully stroking in and out of the other woman as she continued to suckle her breast.

Francine had never known a woman’s touch, sexually. The passion and eagerness with which her body was responding scared her, but not enough for her to pull away; indeed, she could not have, at this point, even if she had wanted. “Please,” she begged, unsure just what it was she was pleading for, but Laine knew. Her finger stroked over Francine’s clitoris oh so gently, knowing too heavy a touch would be more of a turn off to pleasure than an act sure to heighten the other woman’s enjoyment. Francine’s moans of pleasure and acceptance signaled Laine that she was ready, needful even, of more. Laine kissed her way from Francine’s breast, down her flat stomach, to the opening surrounded by downy hair. Her finger was still inserted in Francine, but she used her other hand to spread the labia and leaned over, probing the hot, wet center of Francine with her tongue, tasting the musky, sweet wetness that was Francine. She lapped at the other woman’s clitoris as she continued moving her finger in and out. The mewling sounds escaping from Francine spurred Laine on. Her mouth sucked and licked the clitoris, then her tongue followed the path her finger had taken. She could feel the wetness growing between her own legs, but her goal had yet to be reached, and until it was, she would deny herself her own immediate release.

Francine was writhing on the bed, her hands holding Laine’s head tightly to her center as if afraid the other woman would pull away before her body reached the maximum saturation of pleasure that would explode into a climax. It was almost there, and Laine, recognizing the signals from the other woman’s body, slowed her pace, teasing Francine by bringing her oh so close, then withholding just enough as to not allow her the orgasm she so desperately wanted. Laine’s plunging fingers were covered in Francine’s wetness. She pulled her fingers out as her tongue continued to lap at Francine’s core, and, spreading her thighs a little more, she worked her coated fingers to the tight brown hole, gently, slowly inserting a fingertip, pushing slowly, meeting resistance which she overcame.

Once fully inside she stopped pushing, allowing Francine to get used to the feeling. Then, sucking her clitoris into her mouth and tickling it with her tongue as she sucked it as a man’s penis would be sucked, she began sliding her finger in and out of Francine’s tight hole, faster and faster as she felt Francine’s orgasm building once again. This time Laine was not backing off, instead encouraging the woman by telling her to let it happen, to accept what she was feeling, to reach for it, to allow the waves of pleasure to overwhelm her. Francine screamed as her body was jolted into wave after wave of unadulterated pleasure, her body tightening, her muscles clenching, trapping Laine’s finger. Laine’s tongue captured Francine’s ejaculation, her own surprise at Francine’s extended climax pushing Laine herself over the edge as she stroked her own clitoris and gave way to pleasure herself.

The two women lay holding each other, spent, satiated. Long minutes went by before Francine could speak. “I hope this blizzard last for another day or so.” Laine’s rich chuckle answered her as she stroked her hands across Laine’s body. Their lips met once again, soft, gentle, holding out promises of more delights for each of them.

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