4 comments/ 27390 views/ 6 favorites Ships in the Night By: jack_straw Danielle Murray strode briskly through the front door of the downtown hotel, a bellhop trailing behind with her suitcase and a hang-up bag. She walked up to the front desk to confirm her reservation, complete the check-in process and obtain her key card. Once she had completed her business, she thanked the manager who was working the desk with a brief smile, then walked purposefully through the ornate lobby. As she walked through the lobby, she happened to look over at a man reading a newspaper in one of the lobby chairs, and there was just the briefest of eye contact, a hint of a smile, then she was gone toward the elevators at the back of the lobby. At age 41, Danielle was a success by anyone's measure. Confident, self-assured and well educated, she had used a considerable inheritance to form a holding company that had acquired a half-dozen companies in the area of home maintenance, of which she was the president and CEO. Among her group, there was a nationally known drain-cleaning company, a widely recognized carpet cleaning service and other such companies that weren't quite as well known. She had used her estimable work experience and her business acumen to position her group among the leaders in the industry. She had arrived in the city that morning, and had a meeting scheduled with the directors of one of those companies, which was about to launch a major advertising campaign. She needed to stow her belongings in the room, freshen up quickly and make her way back downstairs to catch a taxi to the company's headquarters. Stan Conway really wasn't terribly interested in anything he saw in USA Today, but he liked to scan through it just so he could say he was well informed. He was much more interested in the woman who strode into the hotel like she owned it, followed by a bellhop pulling a cart with her things. He watched as she efficiently completed her business at the front desk, and gave her a quick mental appraisal. The woman was slightly taller than average, probably 5-foot-7, maybe 5-8, and he guessed her age at around 40, although she was a young-looking 40. There was nothing about her body that stood out; her hips, breasts and legs were all in perfect proportion, and she was dressed for business in a smart suit with a knee-length skirt that was snug but not tight. She wasn't classically beautiful, but she was quite nice-looking, with sandy blonde hair cut in a style that was very short in back, but swept up from her forehead and off to her left. Stan found himself nodding in appreciation, all the more so when she strode past, glanced his way and smiled briefly. Stan stared at her receding backside – and it was very nicely put-together backside – until she turned the corner to the elevators, out of sight from where he was sitting. It was only then that he sensed a presence next to his chair. "Know her?" John Motta said with a knowing smile. "No, but I wish I did," Stan answered as he folded his newspaper and stood up to greet the man he was meeting for lunch. "Nice piece of work." "That she is," John said as the two men shook hands. "How is everything, Stan? Are we about ready to kick this deal up a couple of notches?" "Let's have lunch, and we'll talk," Stan said. Stan Conway owned a modest-sized construction company and John Motta was a potential client, one whose business could put Stan's company into a brand-new market, both in terms of location and the type of construction. At 38, he was just about to realize the dream he'd had when he'd started with the company, back when it had been owned by his ex-father. Stan was an average-sized man, about 5-foot-10 and fairly lean. He still had a full head of brown hair that was just starting to show some silver, dazzling blue eyes and a thick moustache that failed to mask a ready and winning smile. Stan and John had sat down at their table in the hotel's restaurant, and had just placed their orders, when Stan happened to see the blonde woman he'd noticed earlier stride back through the lobby, briefcase in hand, and head out the door. He was shocked to feel little butterflies in his stomach, something that hadn't happened at the sight of a woman in a long, long time. It wasn't that Stan didn't think about women, or that he didn't enjoy looking at them. On the contrary. He dated a few women back in his home city, and sometimes, when the need became too great, he would avail himself of the services of an escort service, usually on business trips like this one. But he hadn't gotten the butterflies like that since college, when he'd first laid eyes on the girl he'd eventually married, the woman who had broken his heart six years earlier. Even as he watched through the window as the woman climbed into a taxi, all of the bittersweet memories came rushing back, unbidden and unwanted. God, he'd loved her! They had been the perfect couple at their college; she was the homecoming queen and he was a starter on the varsity baseball team. Angie had been a raven-haired beauty that every man on campus had tried to nail. But Stan had gotten there first, and after they graduated from the college, they had gotten married. His father owned a construction company, and he gladly gave his new son-in-law a position in the company. Stan had proven to have a natural affinity for the work, and he quickly won over the foremen and other workingmen he came in contact with. He may have been the boss' son, but he'd come from a working-class background, the son of a maintenance foreman for a chemical plant, and Stan knew all about hard work. By the time he was 30, he'd moved up to become vice president of the company, with all of the responsibilities that entailed. It should have been the turning point in his life, and it was, but not the way he had hoped. He wasn't sure when he began to suspect that Angie was cheating on him. There were just little things. She wasn't as affectionate; there were mysterious disappearances, when she was supposed to be some place and wasn't; and she adamantly refused to start a family, which he wanted. She had taken to going off on vacations, either by herself or with friends, and living something approximating a jet-set life, which they really couldn't afford. Whatever it was, it all started to add up a year or so after he was promoted to vice president. He caught his wife in a few little lies here and there; she was going out, "with the girls," a little too often, then coming home late and fairly disheveled. Stan decided to lay a trap and see what happened. He hired a special crew, men he knew from jobs around town, to build a large deck behind his house. He installed several hidden cameras, in a number of locations, including the den and their bedroom, then sat back and waited. He didn't have to wait long. The men he'd hired were all uniformly athletic-looking – muscular and handsome – and they had been instructed to flirt with his wife and see what she'd do. Angie wasn't working, so she was around the house a lot. Within two weeks of the start of the project, his cameras had caught Angie taking one of the young men upstairs to their bedroom for a tryst, then another one, and finally, she took them all on in a furious gangbang. Stan was crushed, but his revenge was grim. He filed for divorce, then paid his father a visit. Angie, of course, had filled her father's ear with her version of events, and Stan was about to become persona non grata at the construction company. He couldn't have that. He walked straight into his father's office with glossy photos and the tapes of Angie in action with his crew of workers. Plus, by then he'd hired a private investigator that had turned up evidence of his wife's antics on trips to places like Cancun and the Bahamas. Stan's terms were simple. He wanted the company. Period. If his father would turn over the company to him, and legally surrender all rights to its ownership, he'd give Angie a no-fault divorce and none of his evidence of her cheating would see the light of a courtroom. Initially, the man had balked. His father had founded the company, and he was loath to see it pass out of the family's hands. Stan simply turned the screws. Unless he got the company, not only would he drag Angie's name through the mud, but also all of the workers and the foremen would leave the company and follow him to a new competing company. Stan had earned their loyalty through hard work and dedication, and for the fact that he'd brought a significant amount of new business to the company. They'd leave his father high and dry, with a shop and equipment and no one to run it. It had been a huge gamble on his part. Had his father called his bluff, Stan would have been forced to go deeply in debt to finance his new company, and he would have had to painstakingly build a new clientele. The threat had worked, however, and his father caved in. It had taken several months for all of the legal wrangling to be completed, and Stan did eventually give his ex-father-in-law a nominal amount of money as a token to purchase the company. But he assumed ownership of the company, and he had worked his ass off to make it profitable. Stan had thoroughly modernized the company's equipment, increased salaries and wages across the board, and had steered the company into some new areas and different types of buildings than the company had been involved with before. He'd become a success, but it was hollow, because he had no one to share it with. Even as that thought passed through his mind, all in but a second's reminiscing, the same thought was passing through Danielle Murray's mind as the taxi drove her toward her destination. She had everything a successful person could want: position, power, wealth, possessions, but she had no one to share it with. She had never married, never had children and her family was all gone. Her parents were both dead, and her only sibling, an older brother, had been killed in a traffic accident many years ago. Danielle had a few close friends, a few old girlfriends that were her confidantes, and a few longtime boyfriends she could turn to for sex if her need for physical release and intimacy became too much. But her girlfriends all had families of their own, and while she often enjoyed sex with her boyfriends, there was a detachment, a lack of passion to those relationships that left her feeling empty. Moreover, she felt her biological clock ticking away, and she sometimes found herself wanting a child, if only for the companionship. Out of the clear, a face flashed through her memory, the face of a man she'd seen earlier that morning. Where had it been? Yes, the hotel lobby, sitting on a chair reading a newspaper. What was it about the man that had diverted her attention? The mere fact that she'd noticed him was significant; usually when she was traveling on business, her focus was narrow, straight ahead. But she'd looked over at him, made eye contact and even smiled, albeit very briefly. Why? Danielle had something close to a photographic memory, and she brought her acute mental facilities to bear, and suddenly it hit her. It was his attire. He'd been dressed utterly casual, in a sport coat, checkered shirt, blue jeans and top-siders – without socks. A man was sitting in the lobby of an upscale downtown hotel, apparently waiting for a meeting of some sort, and he looked completely at ease, totally without pretense, dressed in clothes he was comfortable in. There had been something else, too, once she put her mind to it. He'd had two of most dazzling eyes she had ever seen on a man. As the taxi slowed at her destination, Danielle Murray found herself hoping that the man was staying at the hotel overnight, rather than just in for the day. Stan's day had gone well. After lunch, he and John had looked over the plans for the building that John wanted to construct. Stan already knew them by heart, but he had specific questions he wanted answered, and John was happy to oblige. After they had discussed the project at some length, John had driven Stan out to the site where the project would be built. Stan had looked over the area with a practiced eye, looking at things like drainage, access to power, transportation routes into and out of the site, anything that might impact the construction process. John had chosen well, he decided. Everything seemed favorable, they had come to a tentative agreement on a bid price, and Stan had been in an exuberant mood when John dropped him back at the hotel. He was going to head back to his room when he happened to look over at the hotel bar, and his stomach once again fluttered nervously. Sitting at the bar, her manicured finger idly circling a wineglass, was the blonde woman he'd seen earlier. Only she didn't look quite as confident or as authoritative as she'd appeared earlier. Stan really didn't even think; he just turned toward the bar, and, fortunately, there was an open seat next to the woman. He sidled up to the bar and looked over at the woman. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" he said. The day had not gone well for Danielle. She had arrived at the company headquarters to find that their ad campaign wasn't what she had hoped it would be. There was just something that wasn't right about it. It was a little too corny, a little too juvenile for her tastes. She had ended up rejecting the whole idea and told the company's creative staff that they had two weeks to come up with an acceptable alternative or she would fire the whole department. Danielle truly hated being a bitch like that, but sometimes the person at the top had to crack the whip to get things done the way they needed to be done. And after her fit of anger, she had taken a minute to compose herself, then sat down with the department and discussed some ideas and offered some suggestions, trying to point them in the right direction. Still, the whole episode had left a bad taste in her mouth, left her a little irritable. So she had detoured to the bar when she returned to the hotel, in hopes that a couple of glasses of wine before dinner would improve her spirits. She was well into her second glass when she sensed someone next to her asking if the chair was taken. She was prepared to just give a perfunctory nod, when she looked up into the eyes of the man she'd seen earlier that morning. Danielle's smile gave her away. "No, go ahead," she said. "I could use the company." "Thanks," Stan said, sitting in the seat next to Danielle. He ordered a Bud Light, and suddenly found himself tongue-tied. The butterflies were rolling in his stomach like a symphony, and he couldn't understand why. Danielle, too, found that her mouth was dry, as she fumbled for some opening. She had taken note of his eyes earlier, but the quick look she'd gotten then hadn't done justice to just how handsome this man was. Finally, it was Stan who managed to break the ice. "Rough day?" he asked a little nervously. "Is it that obvious?" Danielle asked in return. "Well, when a pretty woman clenches her jaw like you are, it usually signals that something isn't going well," Stan said. Danielle told Stan a little bit of what had gone on earlier that day, how she had had to put the spurs to some people, and that it wasn't something she liked doing. "There are times when it's no fun being a boss," Danielle said. "Know what I mean?" "I know exactly what you mean," Stan answered. "So what do you do?" Danielle told him just that she was president of her company, without elaborating. There was another awkward pause, then they both remembered their manners. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's Danielle, Danielle Murray," she said, and added where she was from. "Stan Conway," Stan answered, and he told her where he was from. They were pleasantly surprised to learn that they only lived 100 miles apart, and that just made both of them a little more nervous. It was all the more so from the fact that when they shook hands a sort of sizzle seemed to pass between them. They both felt like they were on the brink of something momentous, and they weren't sure how to proceed. After all, they were still strangers, two ships in the night passing each other at a critical juncture in their lives. Danielle tentatively asked Stan about his work, about what brought him to that particular city, and he told her a little about his company and the kind of work he did. "Did you start your company from scratch?" Danielle said. Stan just looked wistfully away at something in the far corner, and she knew immediately that she'd hit some kind of nerve. "No, I, ah, I took it," Stan said finally. "It was part of my divorce settlement." "I'm so sorry," Danielle said, a touch embarrassed. "I didn't mean to pry." "Oh no, that's all right," Stan said. "That's the way it happened, and you didn't know. Let's just say my ex hurt me pretty badly." "You know, it's not good for the soul to hold that kind of emotion in," Danielle said quietly after a moment of silence. She'd seen in a flash that this was a man who'd been severely wounded by love, in much the same way she had, only his wounds were much deeper and more recent. "Have you ever been married?" Stan asked, with the barest trace of bitterness. "No," Danielle said. "I haven't let a man get that close to me in a long, long time. There was one, though, back in college." Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the empathy she sensed, but Danielle then told Stan a story she had only told a select few people, close friends mostly. In college, she'd fallen hard for a young man, a guy named Kyle, and he had appeared to fall for her, as well. They had gone together for over a year, even talked about marriage. She was starry-eyed in love, then out of the blue he just dumped her. A week later, she saw him with another girl, one of the campus beauties. Danielle had confronted him later, and he'd told her his new girlfriend was much better looking, and she was far better in bed. "I just felt ... rejected," Danielle said. "He wasn't the least bit apologetic about it, either. He just tore out my heart and stomped all over it, and I've never quite gotten over it." Stan listened with a growing lump in his stomach. Here, finally, was a woman who knew what he'd felt when Angie had betrayed him. "Well, at least you were lucky enough that he showed his true colors before you married him," Stan said. "That doesn't make it any easier to accept, but it does count for something. I gave my wife 10 years before I finally figured out what she was like." "What happened?" Danielle asked, almost afraid to know. She felt herself tearing up as Stan told her his story. How a woman could do that to a man she professed to love was a mystery. All the more so because Stan seemed to be such a nice, decent person, a hard worker with a bright future. Danielle could feel something else, too, as she listened to Stan's painful story. She could feel herself tingling between her legs. She had looked him up and down as they had talked, and she liked what she saw. Stan could feel it, too. He found himself growing hard as he let the raw emotions out. He'd shed plenty of tears over Angie, but it had always been in private. He'd never really unburdened himself to another person, not even his own mother. Stan took several deep breaths to compose himself and he dabbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. It took him a few seconds to realize that Danielle had a hand on his upper arm and she was softly stroking him, comforting him. He needed to steer things forward in a more positive direction. He could sense that perhaps this was heading some place nice, and he didn't want things to turn on his or her bitterness over past relationships. Ships in the Night "Look, I'm getting kind of hungry," Stan said. "Would you like to join me for dinner? Maybe we can discuss some more pleasant subjects." "I'd like that, but I'd need a minute to freshen up, and get rid of this briefcase," Danielle said. "Um, yeah, me too," Stan answered. "So, meet you in the restaurant in what? Twenty minutes?" "Sounds good," Danielle said. They settled their bar tab, then Danielle took Stan's hand as he helped her from her bar stool, and they both felt a shiver from the contact. They walked in silence to the elevators, lost in thought. A car reached the lobby floor and opened, and Stan followed Danielle into the elevator. They each punched in their floor – 14 for Danielle and 25 for Stan – and the car began to rise. Neither one was quite sure how it happened. They were standing close to each other, and they just turned slightly, looked deep into each other's eyes and the next thing they knew they were locked in a hot embrace, their mouths straining, their tongues slashing, their bodies sliding together, their hands roaming as the emotions boiled over. All too soon, the bell for the 14th floor rang, and they broke apart, a little stunned by the intensity of what they'd just experienced. "Twenty minutes?" Danielle said in a throaty voice as she stepped slowly out of the elevator. "Or less," Stan answered softly as the door closed. Stan had a hard-on that could cut a diamond as the car ascended to his floor. He walked to his room, entered and dropped his briefcase on the floor. He had a couple of business calls to make, to check up on things back at home. That done, he draped his coat over a chair and stood in front of the mirror, just staring. Was he ready, finally, for another serious relationship? Was he ready to trust his heart to a woman again? He had dated a few women over the past six years, but he had shied away from any kind of commitment, anything that might lead to him showing his vulnerability. Nevertheless, he was feeling things for Danielle Murray that he hadn't felt in a long time, and the difference was she'd been through something like what he had been through. It had been a lot longer ago and the cut hadn't been so deep. But she knew what it felt like to be betrayed by someone who had claimed to love her. Suddenly, Stan smiled. He was getting way ahead of the game here. Even if nothing developed, he was prepared to enjoy Danielle to whatever point she chose. He would go as far as she wanted tonight, and let tomorrow take care of itself. Danielle had slumped against the door after she got into her room, closed her eyes and let the swirling emotions wash over her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed like that, and it had been nearly 20 years since a man had made her feel the way Stan Conway had. What was it about him that made her so mushy inside? He wasn't a classic hunk, but he was very nice-looking and he appeared to be in very good shape. Certainly there was a lot of vulnerability there, and she made a mental note not to push too hard. But he just seemed so self-aware, so self-assured. Comfortable. That was the word. He was a man who was comfortable with himself, and someone she could be comfortable with. What had really impressed her was the fact that he hadn't been particularly impressed by the fact that she was the CEO of her company. Most of the men she met and dated knew who and what she was, and she often got the feeling that they were after Danielle the company president, rather than Danielle the woman. Stan hadn't really cared what she did for a living, or, rather, it hadn't been that big a deal. He'd appeared much more interested in her. A sexy smile slowly played across her face, and she moved quickly to change her clothes. She stripped off the business suit, hanging it up in her bag, as was her habit. She wasn't sure what she should wear, since she hadn't planned on going out on a date when she booked this trip. She finally settled on a simple black sweater and a snug pair of slacks. She fished out a matching pair of underwear, then on impulse tossed the bra back in the suitcase. Danielle ducked in the bathroom for a quick shower, then dressed quickly, dabbing just a little perfume here and there and putting on her makeup. She didn't overdo it, but she did add some bright red lipstick she always carried with her. She was ready. Nervous flutters filled her stomach as she made her way to the elevator. She was mildly disappointed that Stan wasn't in the car, but her heart did a flip when she saw him sitting on the same chair she'd seen him in that morning. "You look very nice," Stan said. "Very nice." He'd taken note of the jiggle of Danielle's breasts under her sweater, and he felt a ripple through his cock. It had been over six months since his last sexual encounter, and he was feeling the need. But he told himself to calm down, that he wasn't going to force the issue. But there was no question that he wanted Danielle badly, worse than he'd wanted a woman in a long, long time, and he suspected that Danielle had similar feelings. Dinner was like a slow-motion dream. The excitement level kept rising, in spite of their efforts to keep it under control. As they chatted, they found that they had quite a lot in common. Stan had been an only child, and Danielle had effectively been an only child after her brother's untimely death, when she was 13. Although they came from radically different backgrounds, they had both always been industrious, taking part-time jobs in high school, and they had both been excellent students. They even shared a keen interest in sports, especially football. In fact, Danielle's group leased a box suite at the stadium of the NFL team in her city, and she never missed a home game. And that also happened to be Stan's favorite team, as well. Finally, they were at the coffee and dessert phase, and the moment of truth arrived. Danielle looked over at Stan, and he looked back. They were communicating their desire through their eyes, but Danielle decided she needed some reassurance. "Stan, do you mind if I ask you a very personal question?" she said softly. "I guess," Stan said, not really sure where this was going. "How long has it been since..." Danielle started. "Since I had sex?" Stan finished the question. "Too long. Much too long. Let's see. I guess it would have been my last business trip. I hope you don't get offended, but I, um, I used an escort service. It must have been about six, maybe seven months ago." "An escort service?" Danielle was genuinely surprised. "Why would a man like you have to resort to an escort service? You're good-looking enough that..." "It's the lack of commitment," Stan said. "When you buy sex, you get what you pay for. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm afraid to give myself away to someone that might break my heart the way Angie did. What about you? How long have you gone?" "We're just alike," Danielle whispered. "It's been, I guess, about four months. I'm embarrassed to tell you this, but... Well, I have some old friends, guys I've dated in the past, and when I get to the point where I have to have some intimacy, some human contact, I call them up. It's almost like I'm begging for sex when I do that, and it is so... mechanical. I hate it, really. But I get so lonely sometimes. Don't you?" "All the time," Stan said, after a long pause. "I'm lonely all the time." "So here we are, two ships in the night, two lonely old people, 600 miles from home," Danielle said. "Stan, I want to feel passion again. In the elevator earlier, I felt it. Didn't you?" All Stan could do was nod his head. "Stan, would you come up to my room tonight?" Danielle asked in a soft, almost hesitant voice. "Will you love me?" The other patrons in the restaurant were a little startled to see Stan and Danielle lean over the table and kiss, softly, but deeply. No more words were necessary. Stan signed for the check, then they wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders and strolled to the elevators. As they did, Danielle laid her head on Stan's shoulder. It was a perfect fit. As soon as the elevator doors closed, they embraced again, kissing each other with an urgency that hadn't been there at the restaurant. It was a flowering of passion, of emotion that they had each bottled up for much too long. By the time they were in Danielle's 14th-floor room, they were almost frantic. Stan pulled Danielle's sweater over her head and latched onto her bouncing breasts, which were right at a handful. At the same time, Danielle was hurriedly unbuttoning Stan's shirt and tossing it to the side. She raked her nails lightly over his chest, and she shivered as she felt his hardness burrowing into her groin. Danielle had never wanted any man like she wanted Stan at that moment, and Stan was just as eager. He was ready for love again, and he had a feeling that Danielle was the right woman at the right time. They each kicked their shoes off, then their trembling hands worked to get the other's pants open and off, so they could get to what they really wanted. Their mouths met again as their hands roamed down to the juncture of each other's legs. Stan felt a jolt run through him as he slid his hand between Danielle's panty-covered crotch and found it soaked through with her arousal, and Danielle cooed as she ran her hands over Stan's cock, which was making a tent in his briefs. They each made a mental note to do some more exploring at some later time. But at that moment, all they were after was a consummation of lust that had been pent-up for far too long. Danielle flipped the cloth away from Stan's dick and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Stan's cock was nice and meaty, just about perfect, she decided, and Stan reacted the same way when he slid Danielle's panties to the floor. Stan maneuvered Danielle back to the bed, and she eagerly let herself be taken. She frantically pulled the covers down, fell on the bed and pulled Stan down with her. Danielle had a firm grip at the base of Stan's cock, like she wasn't ever going to let it go, as Stan pulled himself up on his knees and spread her legs open. He feasted his eyes for just a second on Danielle's pretty pussy, lying wet and open for him. It was a dark coral color, with modest labia and a full bush of dark blonde hair to frame her opening. Then the head of his cock made contact with her gates, and everything else fell away. Stan thrust his hips forward and plunged into Danielle's hot depths, sluicing into her pussy like a hot knife through butter. Stan and Danielle both gasped and groaned at the exquisite feeling of his cock entering her for the first time. He absolutely could not remember when he'd been harder, more aroused than he was at that moment, and she was soaring on the wings of a huge orgasm that was rapidly building steam. Within the first few seconds, they were working like one, like they'd been doing this forever. Danielle wrapped her legs around Stan's waist and worked her hips up and down, up and down, while Stan leaned in, encircled Danielle's chest with his arms and drew her to him. They kissed wildly, passionately, as they fucked each other like demons, as the months and even years of deprivation came pouring loose like a broken dam. Danielle was gasping, moaning, keening, crying as her climax built to a head, and with a sharp squeal she tumbled off the mountain, her body shaking in uncontrollable lust. Stan's cock was churning, pounding, sizzling as he held Danielle in his arms. Their bodies were covered with the sweat of passion and the slithering friction just sent their arousal climbing ever higher. "Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby," Danielle chanted as another climax, almost as strong as the first began to crash through her body. "Come on, Stan, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" "Unnnnnnnh, oh my God!" Stan panted. "You feel so gooooooood!" And with that, what was left of his control deserted him, and the tidal wave of cum burst from his balls in a quicksilver rush. Stan slumped onto Danielle's heaving chest as he emptied himself of all of the cum he'd had stored back from the previous months. His cock just kept pushing as he continued to fire small bolts of cum long after the initial explosion. Danielle just held Stan tightly as they spent themselves around each other. Her eyes were glistening as she stared at this man that she'd never seen before that day, but who had all but stolen her heart. And Stan stared back, gazing deep in the eyes of this woman he'd only just met, but who had barged into his life like she'd been there all along. Finally, they broke the spell when Stan's sated cock slid out of Danielle's well-satisfied pussy, followed by a flow of thick, potent sperm. Stan rolled to the side, and wrapped an arm around his new lover, one he believed had been placed in his path for a reason. Danielle burrowed herself in the crook of his arm, soaking up the afterglow of the best sex she'd ever enjoyed. "Are we really ready for this?" Stan asked softly. "What do you mean?" Danielle asked in response. "Are you ready to love another man again, after so long?" Stan said. "Am I ready to love another woman again?" Danielle just smiled and kissed Stan softly on the lips. "Well, honey, it's still early, and maybe once we get to know each other better, we may find out we hate each other's guts," Danielle said with a soft chuckle. "I sincerely doubt that will happen," Stan said. "I'll just tell you this, and leave it at that. It has been a very long time since a woman has made me feel the way you have, and I felt it from the very first, from the first time I saw you. Danielle, I'll go as far as you want to go, take it as fast or as slow as you want. But I don't want this to end tomorrow. I think we were put here today for a reason, to find each other." "Just two ships in the night that happened to collide," Danielle said softly as she laid her head on Stan's chest with a contented sigh. After a short rest, they decided to take a bath together, and take the time they hadn't taken earlier to explore each other. Once in the warm water of the bath, Danielle laid her head back on Stan's chest and sighed in total contentment. Stan, though, was ready for more. He took a soapy washcloth and squeezed the sudsy water over Danielle's breasts slowly, sensually, and she felt her pussy begin to tingle in response. Stan's hands kneaded her slippery tits and his fingers lightly pinched her stiff nipples, sending sparks of lust racing through her body. Danielle could feel Stan's cock beginning to stir under her butt and she smiled at the knowledge that she turned him on so. She reached behind her and caressed the semi-hard cock, lightly stroking him to something approaching full hardness. After giving her tits a good workout, Stan slid his hands down her flat stomach to her abdomen and then to her splayed-open pussy. As he did, he leaned his head forward slightly and licked her ears, then ran his tongue down her jaw line and then to her mouth, which was turned up to meet him. They kissed with a smoldering fire as their hands roamed all over each other's hot, wet skin. When they broke apart, Stan whispered something in Danielle's ear, and she gave a throaty laugh and nodded her head. Danielle lifted herself up so she was standing, turned around and propped her right foot up on the side of the tub. Stan just gazed in wonder at the pretty pussy that was right in front of his face, and he quickly wrapped his hands around her butt and pulled her to him. He inhaled her essence as he placed his mouth fully on her bubbling cunt. He flicked out his tongue and slashed his way down her wet furrow, and was gratified to feel her body lurch forward in lust. Danielle wrapped her hands gently around the back of Stan's head and slowly humped her boiling pussy on his active mouth, savoring the crackling sensations of passion that were climbing higher and higher. She gasped suddenly as Stan added two fingers to the steady rhythm of his oral assault. She was getting closer and closer to a big climax, and it was obvious that Stan was working her up to it. As her orgasm began to reach a peak, she pulled her hands away from Stan's head and squeezed her tits tightly, almost mauling them, and pinching her nipples hard. That was the spark that sent her over the top, and she shuddered from head to toe in a breathtaking climax that left Stan's face covered with the fruits of her passion. Danielle looked down to see that Stan's cock was rock-hard and sticking out from the water like a loaded weapon. "Come on, baby," she panted. "I see something I want, and I can't do what I want with it in here." After drying off quickly, Stan lay down on the bed, on his back, with his cock aimed for the ceiling. Danielle positioned herself between his open legs and bent her face to his hard cock. She held it securely in one hand, while the other softly caressed his abdomen. For several long seconds, she just rubbed the leaking head over her cheeks, savoring the feel of his hardness, before sliding her tongue up the underside of his shaft. She licked all up and down and around his shaft before sliding the head past her lips and into her mouth. She hummed in lust as she worked two-thirds of his meat into her mouth, then pulled back and began to suck his cock with all the passion she could muster. As far as she was concerned, the fact that she was so eager to have Stan's cock in her mouth told her everything she needed to know about how she felt about him. Oral sex was not something she particularly enjoyed doing with her other boyfriends, because it brought back too many bad memories of days and nights in Kyle's room at his fraternity house when she was in college. Kyle had been a pretty dominating person, especially when it came to sex, and even when she didn't feel up to it, he'd insist on a blowjob, at all sorts of different times of the day. She'd later learned that toward the end, he'd secretly let some of his buddies watch from the closet when she did it. So she'd always associated oral sex with being used in a selfish way. But she wanted to please Stan in every way, and taking him in her mouth was her way of telling herself – and him – how much she wanted him. The truth was, she was in love with this man, and she hadn't even known him 24 hours. Stan was just lying back grooving on the feel of Danielle's mouth working lovingly on his throbbing-hard cock. He reached down and gently caressed the back of her head, subtly governing her motions. His hips were moving upward just slightly, giving her more of his cock without pushing too hard. From a purely technical standpoint, he mused, he had probably had better blowjobs. Hell, Angie had been the absolute queen of cocksuckers, able to take all of him into her throat, something Danielle wasn't able to do. But he was getting a sincere rush from the obvious devotion and emotion that Danielle was putting into her efforts, and it set his soul on fire. "Oh yeah, baby, you do that so good," Stan whispered, and Danielle's eyes sparkled in response. Stan thought about letting go and filling Danielle's mouth with his cum, but he really wasn't sure how she felt about swallowing a man's semen, and, besides, he wanted more of her juicy cunt. He gently pried her mouth off of his cock, and pulled her up to him. Danielle slithered up Stan's body, her nipples leaving a sensuous trail up his stomach. Her chest was heaving in rekindled desire as she snaked her legs around his hips, and felt his wet cock slide over her dripping gash. As their mouths met in a hot, passionate kiss, Stan reached down and maneuvered his iron-hard cock just enough so that the head was positioned right at the opening to Danielle's pussy, and their lust did the rest. Danielle thrust her hips down while Stan pushed his hips up, and his cock slid right up her trembling pussy like a heat-seeking missile. Ships in the Night They both groaned heavily as they immediately hit their stride, their hips churning together as Stan drove his cock relentlessly up her twitching cunt. The light sheen of sweat on their bodies created a delicious friction that sent their arousal through the roof, as their mouths strained together. Stan simply could not get enough of Danielle's hot mouth, the way her tongue slipped into his mouth and jousted with his tongue. They were feeding on each other's mounting passion, their mutual lust, their bodies working as one. Finally, however, Danielle needed to catch her breath, so she broke their lip lock, and placed her hands firmly on both sides of Stan's chest. In this position, she could work her hips harder and faster up and down on Stan's spastic cock. Stan, too, got a jolt of lust from the way Danielle's tits swayed lightly as she worked up and down, her eyes closed in reverie. He reached up and gathered them in his hands, and she just smiled sensually, never opening her eyes as she felt one of the most explosive orgasms she'd ever felt begin to work itself to a head. Low, rhythmic moans of pleasure escaped Danielle's lips as they hurtled toward a crashing climax. Stan's hands moved down to her hips and he was starting to work her hard and fast on his cock. He was straining to hold back the rush of cum that sitting right on the edge of release. He was waiting on that one moment, and now it came. Danielle's body went rigid and she cried out in a deep, keening moan, then suddenly her whole body went into convulsions as her orgasm crashed about her like waves on a rocky beach, powerful and violent. Stan could barely hang on as he felt his control disappear. With a sharp cry of his own, he felt the rocket of cum blast through his cock and explode out the end, basting Danielle's clenching cunt with his super-hot cream. Their bodies were twitching and shuddering as they spent themselves together, and even as the waves of passion kept buffeting their bodies, Stan pulled his new lover to him and they kissed again, still with the fiery sizzle of their earlier pleasure. Then, with a long, satisfied groan, Danielle collapsed onto Stan's chest and they felt their bodies relax in exhaustion. Danielle had just enough strength left to reach up and turn off the bedside lamp before they both fell into a deep, sated slumber. They made love again the next morning, after Danielle received her wake-up call, then they met for a farewell breakfast before going their separate ways to get on with the day's business. Danielle had another round of meetings with her company brass, then she was headed home on a late-afternoon flight. Stan still had a couple of days of business left to conduct with John Motta before he would return home. But before he put Danielle on a taxi for the company headquarters, Stan got one more deep soul kiss, then gazed in wonder as the taxi sped off down the street. He could see Danielle's face as she was turned to look out the back window at him until the taxi turned the corner, out of sight. As he walked back into the hotel lobby, Stan reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the business card she'd given him, the one where she had written her private, home telephone number and her personal cell phone number on the back. "Call me when you get home," were the last words she'd said to him, and Stan smiled almost devilishly. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that he was going to do just that, about a minute after he walked in his front door. He was going to see more of Danielle Murray, much more, and he anticipated burning up the 100 miles between his home and hers on a regular basis. After all, he was in love again, and it felt damn good.