Emily [F30] sat at the hotel bar, staring down at her drink and trying to hold back tears. She was traveling for work, alone at her hotel and watching the hours slowly pass until tomorrow’s client meeting.

Work had been difficult recently, the main office was pushing her to meet their crazy quota and she was spending almost every day on the road. It seemed like she was thinking about work almost 24/7, trying to craft creative and new approaches to sell their product. But no matter how hard she worried and stressed, nothing ever seemed to change.

And then there was Brandon. Everytime her phone vibrated on the bar top, it was another message from her ex-boyfriend Brandon. She had recently broken up with him, and as expected, he did not take it well.

Each incoming text message was a coin-flip, demonstrating Brandon’s manic personality. One minute, Brandon would praise her and beg her to come back. The next, he was calling her a “slut” and “bitch.” She’d come to realize that inside every weak man was the stereotypical “nice guy.” Although Brandon’s tenor was harassing, she knew he’d never hurt her, he’d just keep trying to get her back.

Secluded and alone, Emily felt a single tear fall from her cheek and watched it splatter on the glass bar top.

At that moment, a man slid onto the stool next to her at the bar, and politely ordered a whiskey from the bartender.

She kept looking down, trying to hide her emotion.

“Are you alright?”

At first, she didn’t know if the man was talking to her, and she asked “huh?”

“I said, are you alright?”

She turned her head and saw the man [M40] was handsome, and was looking at her with intense blue-ish grey eyes. He was about ten years older than her, broad shouldered, but not overly muscular.

“I’m fine.” Emily responded.

Her phone vibrated again on the bar top, Brandon’s message visible for just a split second. Reflexively, she quickly turned it over, hiding it from this stranger.

The man calmly explained “I noticed you were crying, and I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine, just a personal issue.” Emily responded.

“Mind if I ask what it is?” he inquired.

“A frustrated ex-boyfriend who can’t accept reality.”

“That can happen. Did you try and cut off all contact?” The man asked sympathetically.

“I did, but apparently he’s using a different number tonight.”

“Then how about this, just turn off your phone for this evening, and you can put him out of your mind” the man said gently but in an oddly commanding tone.

Without a thought, Emily held the button down and turned off her phone.

“For tonight, he doesn’t exist. You’re free to just be in the here and now.”

Emily immediately felt better, and turned her body towards the man and looked at him a bit closer. He reached out his hand, which she reflexively reached out to shake.

“I’m David.”

“I’m Emily.”

For the next hour, Emily was at total peace of mind as the pair talked. David was insightful, gently prying out personal information like a therapist with a patient, giving her the opportunity to describe herself and her life. She felt safe in this interaction, and found herself being more candid than she had been in years, describing her lack of friends and family, and relative isolation.

David spoke about his own life, mentioning that he was single and didn’t have any family either.

Neither conversationalist touched their drink, so entirely focused on the other participant. Eventually, when the bartender called “closing time,” she realized that she was completely sober.

As she picked up her phone and put it into her purse, David asked her gently “can I walk you to your room?”

“I would like that.” Emily responded.

He gently took her hand, exhibiting a level of chivalry which almost felt antiquated.

He walked her to the elevator, and asked “which floor?”

“28” Emily responded.

She continued to hold his hand as the doors closed, and found herself drawn to him. She turned and hesitantly reached out to kiss him, and he returned the kiss deeply.

As the floors ticked by with each successive sound of the bell, she pressed herself against him harder and harder, feeling his erection against her stomach, feeling almost small in his strong hands. He pressed against her firmly, pinning her to the wall. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

The passion was overwhelming, all the stress of work and Brandon pushed from her mind. She savored the sensation of his attention, his strength against her soft skin. He kissed her deeply, and she guided his hand between her legs.

She felt his hand against her hard clit through the thin fabric of her suit pants, providing the touch and feel of a lover familiar with her needs. She pressed her face against his shoulder, gasping and moaning; pinned between the wall and his weight.

With a whisper in her ear, Emily heard the forceful words “cum for me.”

With a cry of passion, it washed over her like a wave and her legs weakened, she felt her body lose control under his touch. This was the most powerful and most natural orgasm she had felt in years, her pussy hot and sensitive, a darkening patch of fabric between her thighs.

David held her close as the orgasm passed, letting her catch her breath in his embrace.

“Oh, my….my god.” Emily mumbled.

“You’re a good girl Emily.” David said softly.

Her cheeks flushed, blushing like a schoolgirl under his praise. Finally, the doors opened on 28, and David guided her slowly by the hand to her room. At the door, David gave her a light intimate kiss on the lips, and turned to walk away.

Almost hurt, Emily asked “will I see you again?”

“You will, and you won’t hear from Brandon again. I can take care of that.”

As she watched him walk away, still overwhelmed with desire and emotion, Emily realized she had never told David Brandon’s name.

She had no idea what the future held, but she finally felt optimistic again. Especially if she would see David again.