She was a gonner."I'm way past doing this in a car. Shall I take you to your car, or drop you at home?" She said, "This is going to sound weird, but w...ll you take me to a hotel?" I chuckled, then said, "Anywhere but where you work!" Enough said. We drove to a decent motel, I checked in, and drove to the entrance near my room. We entered the room, I tossed the key on the dresser, and turned to her. We just gazed at each other for a bit. I suggested a bath. "Ooohh, that sounds good!" I ran the. There seemed to be a hint of disappointment in his voice. Was he really asking me to stay? ‘Of course. It’s really nice to have someone to talk to on a regular basis. I enjoy our conversations.’ ‘Me, too,’ I replied with more liveliness than needed. It was probably obvious but I didn’t care that much. I really didn’t want to leave the room. I ended up standing there awkwardly though, not really sure what to do. With no work to pursue, I had no idea what direction our conversation would head in.. ‘Who are you?’ she asked as he gathered his jet sport coat. ‘Collin Bainbridge. I grew up on Sugar Hill Plain, up the way,’ he said. Again, no feeling there. No sense of remorse, sadness or even stilted pain. Just a fact. He grew up in a white two-story platboard house on Sugar Hill Plain, one of many similar houses along the row. ‘Wow. That’s cool,’ she said. ‘I think I remember you.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yea. You knew my cousin. Tracy Wheatley.’ Collin dreaded this part. It took little precognition. I moved my face closer, noticing your luscious bare shoulder, and neck, and had to bite my tongue to stop from sinking my teeth into your flesh. I breathed the scent of your hair in deeply, and my cock surged and began to press against my jeans hard. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the numbers as we went up floor by floor, and I said to myself, ‘Fuck it,’ and slid my hand up over the waist band of your jeans, and slowly down towards your ass. You stiffened, and gasped—but quickly muffled it so.