” The door closed. Sounds of zips, the rustling of fabric, shoes on the wooden floor. The door opened, just a fraction. Her bare arm snaked out, gripping mine, pulling me inside. She stood, clad in the lime green of the bra and knickers, her skin lightly tanned, tall in her heels. She closed the door, sliding the bolt across. Hands on hips, legs slightly apart, shoulders back, chest thrust forward. I gaped at her. She raised her eyes and I shut my mouth. “Stunning.” I said, and meant it. She smiled, turning a full circle, slowly. The mirror behind her meant she could see my reactions at all times. I think my appreciation was apparent, as she gazed at my crotch. “Just the effect I was hoping for,” she said. Tentatively, I put my hands out, onto her arms. She didn’t pull away. I ran my hands up her arms, to her shoulders, stepping closer I ran them back down to her sides, feeling the silky fabric under my fingertips, her skin on my palms. I brushed my fingers over her stomach, below. Thompson, Alicia's mother, had gotten the first hug from Alicia when she came up the escalator, naturally. Then Mrs. Thompson had looked on with mild dismay at her daughter's public display of affection for me--a lowly employee of her husband's business, no less--in the form of Alicia's giving me a soul-searing, toe-curling, nuclear-powered kiss, complete with tongue!Alicia's journey back to 'the world' had taken her from Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, Kenya to Hartsfield-Jackson here in Atlanta by way of Zurich and then Dulles. She had left Kenya at 11:25 PM yesterday evening and had arrived in Atlanta the next evening--today--at 6:43 PM, after a trip that included a 3-1/2 hour layover in Zurich and just over an hour layover in DC. Her total travel time, not including the initial ride to Kenyatta Airport on a very rickety diesel-smelling bus, had been of just over twenty-six-and-a-half hours.Despite her obvious fatigue, she looked and felt wonderful in my arms. Now.
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