Boss and intern share a hotel bed in New Orleans

New Orleans hit like a steam bath the second Megan stepped off the airport shuttle. The conference schedule was locked down tighter than a military op, with Thursday kicking off at ten thirty sharp, early check-in, a working lunch at twelve thirty, meetings stacking from two to four, cocktails five to six, and dinner on your own. Friday packed presentations wall to wall before the seven o’clock executive dinner for VP level and up. Saturday opened with lectures starting at eight, an afternoon tour of the French Quarter trade show right in the hotel, cocktails at six thirty with the C-suite, then small dinners of eight to twelve at eight hosted by senior managers at chosen spots downtown. Sunday meant box lunches and a two o’clock flight home to LaGuardia, landing by five.

As Vice President of Marketing for the Women’s Intimates Fashion division at her company, Megan was set to host one Saturday night dinner at Mambo’s on the rooftop with a table for ten. Seven of her top managers would join, plus one rookie and her intern. Her ninety-minute workout had to start at five in the morning, forcing bed by ten at the latest if she wanted any shot at staying sharp.

Travel Delays Pile Up

The reality turned out different. A weather delay held up the New York team flight, so the ten of them reached the hotel at one fifteen in the afternoon. That left just enough time to check in and grab a vending-machine sandwich before meetings started. The rooms were not ready. Everyone had to leave luggage with the concierge until the hotel fixed the scheduling mess. Then the airline sent the New York flight’s luggage to Cleveland. Lucky for Megan, she never checked a bag. She had packed her carry-on with three skirts, two camisoles, one daytime jacket, one evening jacket, black patent dress heels, five pairs of pantyhose, two stocking-garter sets from a retailer at the trade show, five panties, her lanolin hairbrush, one bag of makeup, and selected toiletries. Most of her teammates had nothing.

She had a two o’clock meeting with her Executive VP, Mr. Reynolds, and brought her intern, Tyler, to take notes. The rest of the team was in another meeting. Megan had been working with Tyler for a few months. At twenty-one, he was a UCLA grad with solid grades and work experience. He was not as quick as she wanted, but he was fine. His main asset in the department was physical. He was Hollywood handsome, six-two, lean and muscular, with bright brown eyes and a dazzling smile. He wore his suits a little tight, especially the pants, which drew laughs from the women in the office.

Megan was thirty-one with a vice president title, yet she was not ready to lengthen her hemlines or loosen her skirts and tops. She told herself everything she wore came from client accounts, and those clients liked seeing their products on their marketing executive. Forty-five minutes of daily leg work kept them lean and strong, earning her plenty of French, English, Italian, and Spanish nylons from admiring reps. The other forty-five minutes kept her five-nine frame at a steady one hundred twenty-five pounds. That twenty-three-inch waist took work. She had shaped this body, these legs, this hair, this face around sexual attraction. It was the core of who she was. She needed to be lusted over. She needed to be desired. Her husband was the only one who got to act on it. Multiple partners had never been the goal. Being the image of that lust was.

She also held a Master’s in Marketing and an MBA in Corporate Finance. No one outworked her. She had earned her place as the youngest VP in company history. Her mix of looks and effort paid off. She loved turning heads. A short tight skirt, seamed nylons, and four-inch heels on Sixth Avenue at midday drew the looks she craved. Sometimes she scanned the sidewalk for an approaching man, smiled, and kept walking. She was always a no, but the reaction still felt good. She got propositioned almost every day, yet she had a husband who kept her steady. David and she had been married nearly ten years, crazy in love and faithful.

Her boss’s boss, Mr. Reynolds, was detail-oriented and on fire that day. Tyler and she stayed in his three-room suite until just after six thirty. When they reached the lobby to collect her suitcase and get room keys, they learned about an emergency on the third floor. Refrigerant lines had ruptured, making the second, third, and fourth floors uninhabitable for the next couple of nights. The hotel was full, and convention season in New Orleans meant no rooms nearby either.

At two thirty, while Tyler and she had their phones off upstairs, the office manager had gathered everyone else in the lobby and told them to double up. Twenty people paired with coworkers, starting with those whose rooms had two beds. All available cots went out. By the time they reached the lobby at six thirty, every pairing was set. Everyone had already left for dinner. That left Tyler in her room.

Bed Barrier Fails

Megan called the office manager. Mrs. Thompson said she was sorry but could not fix it tonight. Megan had a suite with a separate living room and two beds. Except she did not. The front desk gave her a queen bed and a small settee with a loveseat and two chairs. She thought about calling around to find someone who could take Tyler, but she did not want to pull anyone from a night out in New Orleans. She asked for the hotel manager. He said there was nothing he could do. When she started to push back, a work crew entered the lobby and he ran off to redirect them.

Tyler had been quiet beside her. Megan closed her eyes, took a breath, and told him they were going up. His luggage was still missing, so they took her carry-on to the eighth floor. The room had a queen bed and a tiny loveseat. There was no way Tyler’s six-two frame would fit on it overnight. They tried stacking chairs to make a longer platform. It did not work. The floor was out because he had a bad back. She set up four pillows down the center of the bed as a barrier and one pillow for each of them. It was not much, but it would have to do.

Megan normally slept nude, so she had not packed anything decent for bed. After all the delays it was nearly eight thirty. She decided to skip dinner and start fresh in the morning. She kicked off her shoes, took her roller bag into the bathroom, and changed. The skirt was so tight she had to pinch the fabric to get the zipper down. She hung it on the door, then removed her jacket and blouse. She reinforced the top buttons on all her blouses because her double-D breasts strained them. Her bra had to come off. She pulled on a low-cut camisole with tiny sleeves that fell to her upper thighs. With pantyhose and panties underneath, it was the least revealing option she had.

When she opened the door, Tyler sat on the edge of the bed. He muttered something that sounded like holy fuck. His eyes went wide. She told him to close his mouth. He scanned her slowly, stopping at her legs and then her chest. The silk outlined her breasts, and her nipples showed through. He said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She climbed into bed fast, set the pillows between them, and told him to get some sleep.

He went into the bathroom and started the shower. She called David to say goodnight and that she loved him. He asked how things were going. She gave him the short version about the room mix-up and bunking with a coworker. He laughed and hoped she did not snore. She said she would find out and that it was hopefully just one night. The shower stopped, so she ended the call. He asked if she was all right and whether she had made it to the sex shop. She had not, because of the delays. He offered to talk her through it on the phone, but she told him she had a roommate. He said he understood and that he loved her.

The bathroom door opened. Tyler stepped out in white briefs and nothing else. A thick bulge pressed against the fabric even though he was soft. Above it, his six-pack, defined pecs, full biceps, and thick thighs stood out. She stared. He looked straight at her and said they both liked what they saw. She told him to stay on his side and that there would be no cheating for extra space. She pulled the comforter up, rolled to her edge, and thought about David.

They had married young. She was twenty-two. They met when she was eighteen, lost their virginities to each other, and had never been with anyone else. She worked hard in the gym every day so he would never have a reason to stray. If he ever cheated, it would crush her. She spent time and money on her looks and chose classic clothes with a sexy edge. Her two biggest fears were losing her sex appeal and giving David a reason to look elsewhere. The order switched daily.

She loved sex with David. Sometimes she lost control and fucked him for hours. Lately she had started using toys after he finished, and sometimes when he was not home. Her favorite was a thick black seven-inch vibrator with ribs and nodules. She called it Jacob. After David fucked her, Jacob stretched her so much that his four inches felt different. Size was not everything, but she had read that some men were larger. She had no interest in finding out. To help David, she taught him how to eat her pussy. She went down on him for a long time first, sucking his cock until he throbbed, then asked him to return the favor until he got good at it. She would spread her legs wide, guiding his tongue over her slick folds while she moaned his name and told him right there, harder, until her orgasm hit and she came dripping wet against his mouth. The taste of her own cum on his lips afterward always made her want to fuck him again.