Charly

I'm thirty-two years old and vice president of a medium sized company. I'm vice president of product marketing, reporting to the vice president of marketing who reports to the Chief Operating Officer of the company. It sounds like the American dream but the journey hasn't been easy.

The last two years have had more downs than ups. Two years ago, my wife of seven years, the love of my life, my soul mate, the future mother of my children, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died within six weeks. In six weeks, my entire life plan was gone. I became depressed. My boss, while sympathetic, explained that if I continued to ignore my responsibilities there would be consequences.

A close friend suggested a local therapist. I sought her out and made an appointment. Six months later I was less depressed and out of a job. With my therapist's help, I realized I needed to stop obsessing about what could have been and begin a new plan. I needed to start a new life and that required I move to a new location, find a new job and, eventually, find new love. It took a while, but I finally landed a position as vice president of product marketing for a small eastern Connecticut manufacturer focused on national security products for the US government. My organization is small; just eight employees throughout the country, but my responsibilities include support for field demonstrations and product press releases. It took just over three months for me to get the appropriate security clearances during which time I familiarized myself with my new company's products, services and customer base. I also began building a personal network within the corporation.

Next week, in Washington DC, the security industry is holding one of its larger trade shows. Ordinarily, the new vice president of product marketing would not attend such a conference. However, everyone thought I was prepared and the show offered an opportunity for me to "get my feet wet," so I planned to attend.

Since most of the display material and equipment for this show was shipping from the Connecticut home office, I offered to take one of the company vans and drive both some of the more sensitive show material and myself to Washington. I planned to leave on Saturday morning and arrive that same afternoon. The show didn't start until Monday, and I would use Sunday to set up our show booth with the help of four of my subordinates who were due to arrive late Saturday and early Sunday. If everything went well, I would return either the following Friday or Saturday.

Friday afternoon, the day before I was to leave, I was in the staging area of our Connecticut office, double checking that everything we were going to need was present. I also verified that the van was in good shape and fully fueled. While I was there, Jason Snyder, the president of the company, stopped by to check the status and to boost my confidence. He also suggested, since Charly was also planning to drive down, but on Sunday, that we could drive together and save some costs. I agreed. Jason asked what time I was planning to leave. I told him by nine am and he offered to tell Charly to be there before then.

After Jason left, I wondered who Charlie was. I'd only been with the company just shy of five months but I thought I had met just about everyone. But, I couldn't recall anyone named Charlie, or even Charles. The more I thought about it the fewer answers I had. I resolved to wait until the morning to meet Charlie.

Saturday morning I arrived at the office just after seven am. I used the time to organize and load the van. I was just about done when Charlene walked up to the van and poked her head inside. Charlene was Jason's administrative assistant. Her presence on this Saturday morning was unusual. I'd worked several Saturdays and had never seen her on those days. When I saw her I registered my surprise and said, "Hi, Charlene. What brings you here this morning? I hope it's nothing serious. I'm just about to leave for Washington."

"Hi, Frank. Jason told me to meet you here. I'm supposed to ride with you."

"Jason told me to expect to meet Charlie. You're Charlie?"

"Oh. Jason calls me Charly all the time. He's the only one who does. He's done it so long I just go along with it. However, just so I don't seem too easy I make him spell it 'C H A R L Y.'"

"I get it. You can understand my confusion. I was expecting a male coworker but I couldn't remember a single individual with the name Charlie. Hop in. I'm just about ready to leave."

Charly was a better choice for a traveling companion than any of the male employees. She is well put together and quite attractive. However, her choice of traveling apparel seemed unusual. She was wearing a gray pencil skirt that came to just above her knees. Her blouse was pure white, buttoned up the front and tucked neatly into her skirt's waistband. A wide black belt and low black heels accented the outfit.

Charly tossed her suitcase into the back of the van next to mine and climbed into the passenger side of the van and buckled up. I closed and locked the rear doors and climbed into the driver's side and buckled up as well. I'm not sure how old the van was but its narrow and has a single bench seat in front. It's an automatic with the selector lever on the steering column and a flat floor.

I pulled out of the office parking lot and drove carefully for the first several blocks while I got a feel for the way the van drove. Twenty minutes later, we were cruising down I95 south along Long Island Sound toward the Bronx. About an hour later, we crossed the George Washington Bridge and got on the New Jersey Turnpike south.

As I settled into the drive, I absent-mindedly placed my right hand on Charly's thigh. After about five seconds I realized what I had done and removed my hand as if her thigh was on fire.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"Do what?"

"Put my hand on you that way."

"What way?

"You know. On your leg. It's not right. I hardly know you. It's not appropriate. I shouldn't have done it."

"Then why did you?"

"I don't know. Maybe, just force of habit."

"You need to explain that."

"Well, my wife and I used to drive together a lot and when we were together I would frequently place my hand on her leg. I guess I did the same with you out of habit."

"Then why did you take it off?"

"You're not my wife, or even my girlfriend. I had no right to place it there in the first place and I'm sorry if you were offended."

"Actually I wasn't offended at all. In fact, it felt nice there. If you're more comfortable driving with your hand on my leg then its okay with me if you want to leave it there."

"Really?"

"Really." Charly took my right hand and placed it on her leg where it had rested before.

After a few minutes Charly asked, "Is that all you did with your wife when you were driving?"

"I'm not sure that's a suitable topic of conversation. I lost her two years ago and the memories I have are kind of private."

"Then let's not talk about it. Why don't you just show me instead?"

I looked quickly at Charly and she was looking back at me with a large smile and a twinkle in her eyes.

I focused on the driving but I began to rub my hand up and down on her leg. Each stroke was slightly longer than the last and soon I was below the hem of her skirt and touching the smoothness of her nylon covered skin. As I rubbed her leg I pushed the hem of her skirt up a little with each stroke. I also slid my hand over and down the inside of her leg a little with each stroke.

A quick glance at Charly revealed that her eyes were closed. I believed she was enjoying the contact. As I continued to rub her leg the distance between us soon limited how far I could reach. Charly apparently noticed the problem but the seatbelt restricted her ability to move closer to me. She unfastened the belt and slid over on the seat.

"Just don't do anything foolish with your driving," she admonished me.

I gently continued moving my hand up and down both the top and inside of her thigh. Eventually I reached a point where the hem of her skirt again restricted my movement. She was sitting on the back of the skirt and the tight fit caused the hem in the front to bind as I slid my hand upward. Again Charly noticed the problem and, without hesitating, lifted her body, and, with both hands, pulled the back of the skirt up behind her so she was no longer sitting on it. The adjustment moved the front hem of the skirt several inches higher and I could then rub her thigh a high as I dared to go.

And higher I went. I went above where I expected to feel the top of her stockings and discovered she was actually wearing panty hose. I went as far as the space allowed until the leading edge of my pinky finger was rubbing the crease between her legs. Charly shifted as necessary to maximize my ability to locate important features. I could feel the folds of her labia, a slight dampness and a hard knob above them through the nylon of her panty hose and the layer of her panties. I rubbed the area at the top in a gentle circular motion. Unexpectedly, Charly stiffened, moaned and then went slightly limp as I slowly withdrew my hand. A moment later, she looked at me and asked, "Could you stop at the next rest stop? I need to use the restroom."

I pulled into the Molly Pitcher service area just south of New Brunswick. I parked the van and we both went inside to use the facilities. We met in the center area among the tables. I suggested we get something to eat and Charly looked around hesitantly. The choices were Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips, Nathan's, Cinnabon and Roy Roger's. None looked particularly inviting. Charly suggested we wait until later when we can have a decent restaurant meal. I grabbed a bag of cashews and two bottles of water from one of the convenience stores and we walked back to the van. I held the door for Charly as she climbed in, walked around to the other side and climbed in myself. I checked the gas and decided to skip a fill up.

As I accelerated down the ramp to return to the traffic I noticed that Charly had not fastened her seat belt and she had slid over toward my side of the bench seat. She had also flipped up the back of her skirt again. Once we were moving along with the traffic she took my right hand, placed it on her leg and said, "Now, where were we?"

We quickly reestablished our previous activity. I repeated the slow progression of my hand up her thigh which was now devoid of the nylon panty hose. She'd obviously removed them during her visit to the restroom. As I progressed further up her inner thigh I discovered the panty hose wasn't the only garment missing. Her panties had also vanished. Before long, Charly had shifted her lower body more in my direction, brought her left leg up on the seat and was leaning back on the right hand door. In that position I could use the longer fingers of my hand to slide into her between her labia and my thumb to stimulate her clitoris. In about five minutes she climaxed stronger than earlier.

After Charly recovered somewhat, she sat up properly on the seat and began to unbutton her blouse. With a quick glance, I realized that she had not only removed her panty hose and panties in the restroom but also her bra. Charly unbuttoned all but the lower most button and lay down on the seat slightly on her left side and put her head on my right leg. She then took my right hand and placed it inside her blouse on her bare right breast.

I cupped her breast and slowly circled my fingers around her nipple. I could feel it harden as I squeezed it between two of my fingers. The size was perfect. I knew if I continued for much longer I was going to have difficulty driving. After several minutes, Charly turned further onto her left side until she was almost face down on the seat with her face in my lap. In that position, I couldn't keep my hand on her breast. Driving again with both hands eased my concern about having an automobile accident. However, Charly's face in my lap could lead to an accident of a different kind. Charly used her right hand to cup my crotch and rub up and down the length of my erection through the fabric of my jeans. Once she was satisfied with the state of my excitement, she moved up to undo my belt buckle. She had a little difficultly using only one hand but, with a little help from me, she managed to open the buckle. She then unbuttoned my jeans and tried to unzip my fly. Again, she had difficulty as she pulled down on the zipper the top of the jeans moved with her effort. She solved the problem this time without my assistance. Using her teeth on the top of the jean's waist, she was able to stabilize the top while successfully pulling down the zipper.

Her hand moved inside the opening and, with little difficulty, was able to move my erection outside my pants. In this position, she began to use her mouth to engulf my erection. I couldn't believe how completely she was able to swallow the entire thing. She moved her mouth up and down with a slow rhythm while applying constant suction. There was no way I was going to last more than a few more minutes if she kept that action up. I warned her as best I could since talking was almost impossible. She responded by pausing with her lips halfway down my shaft and running her tongue around my swollen head. I failed to warn her again as I fired blasts of semen into her mouth. She swallowed repeatedly and kept sucking until I nothing left.

Afterward, Charly rested lazily in my lap with her right hand holding, and occasionally squeezing, my relaxing erection. When I could speak intelligently, I suggested she sit up and button up, as we were approaching a toll plaza. She sat beside me, carefully tucked me back into my jeans and zipped up my fly, leaving both the top button and belt undone. She then slowly buttoned up her blouse and straightened her hair. As we passed through the tollbooth, we were both smiling broadly. A more aware toll taker might have been suspicious.

We stopped in Maryland for fuel, drinks and restroom breaks. When Charly returned to the van, she was restored to her original fully clothed condition. We drove the rest of the way to the hotel without reference to what we had experienced. The only comment came from Charly, "We're not done yet."

At the hotel, we checked in and, since we couldn't unload until the next day, had the van parked in a secure location and locked. We had rooms on the eighth floor, 801 for me and 822 for Charly.

I followed the bellman up to my room, tipped him and looked around. I had a suite on the southwest corner of the building. It had two queen-sized beds, a large sitting area with a love seat sized sofa, a small coffee table and two side chairs. The suite also had a small dining table that could double as a conference table and two bathrooms, one a powder room near the dining area and the other a larger one with a multi-person Jacuzzi tub, oversized shower and two sinks on the counter. A half wall between the sitting area and the dining area supported a 55-inch TV and there was a small counter with a sink and under counter refrigerator. It was clearly going to be a comfortable week.

I had kicked off my shoes, grabbed the TV remote and the hotel guide and settled on the sofa to learn a little about the rest of the hotel's amenities when there was a knock on the door.

I looked through the door peephole. Charly was standing in the hallway, wearing one of the hotel's terry bathrobes with two wine glasses and a bottle of what looked like red wine. I opened the door.

"To what do I owe this visit?"

"I thought we would celebrate our safe arrival. Are you going to invite me in?"

I stepped aside and Charly walked into the suite.

"Wow. What a great room. Mine's small, just large enough for a bed, dresser, tiny desk and chair. How do you rate?

"I didn't make the reservations. Obviously, someone thinks my position deserves some benefits. Come on in and let's open that wine and celebrate."

Charly went to the counter and found a corkscrew in the draw beneath. She soon had the bottle of Barefoot Cabernet Sauvignon open and poured two glasses. She handed one to me.

During her activity, the belt of her robe loosened somewhat, exposing some of her body, that she made no effort to correct. As she handed me the wine, I asked, "Where did you get the wine?"

"Room service is very efficient."

"Nice idea. Cheers."

We clinked glasses and I sipped the wine while Charly drank. Her robe continued to loosen and I could clearly see, for the first time, the parts of her body I had enjoyed earlier. Charly placed her glass on the top of the dresser. She took my glass from my hand and placed it next to hers. She came close to me, took my face in both hands and kissed me gently, but passionately. Her robe had fully opened and, as I returned her kiss, I moved my arms around her naked body and pulled her closer. The kiss evolved into an open mouthed, full exchange of tongues as I moved my hands down to palm both of her cheeks.

Charly pushed into me, causing me to move backward until I sat heavily on the bed. She shrugged out of the robe revealing her naked body as I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt and pulled it over my head and off. I moved her back a step, stood up and began to unbuckle my belt. I clearly wasn't moving fast enough and Charly knocked my hands aside, unbuckled my belt and opened my pants by herself. She pushed me back on the bed again, and, as I lifted my body slightly, she pulled both my jeans and underwear off together. She pushed me further and I scooted back further on the bed. Without hesitation, Charly then climbed up on the bed astride me and guided me into her. She settled down on me, fully taking me into her. We moved urgently together. It was as if we didn't act quickly someone was going to stop us. It ended quickly as we both climaxed.

Afterward, as we lay in each other's arms, stroking each other and kissing lightly, I asked, "Do you want to get some dinner?"

"I could use something to eat since we haven't eaten all day and I need time to recuperate. What do you suggest?"

"Let me check the possibilities in the hotel guide while you get ready."

Sadly, Charly got out of bed, put on the robe, tightened the belt and, with a quick kiss, left the room. When she next knocked on the door, I was ready to eat. Charly was dressed casually. We ate in a small Italian bistro just two blocks from the hotel. We walked back to the hotel arm in arm. When we exited the elevator on the eighth floor, Charly followed me to my room rather than turning the opposite way to go to her room. We spent the rest of the evening and most of the night in my room. Sometime in the early, pre-dawn hours, Charly got out of bed, used the facilities, got dressed and with a kiss, left my room.

When I finally got out of bed, I found a note on the bathroom counter. "Breakfast at nine, downstairs."

I showered, dressed and left the room in time to meet Charly for breakfast. She was already sitting in the restaurant with a cup of coffee. We had a long breakfast together. When we finished we walked to the convention area of the hotel to scout the facilities. We couldn't get access to the show area until noon to set up our equipment. We found the conference sign-in desk and I collected the badges for everyone. The rest of the team was due to arrive later in the day so we retired to Charly's room to wait. We used the time to more slowly, and gently resume last evening's activities. I explored every inch of her body as she did mine. I tasted her hair, skin and both sets of lips. She repeated her actions in the car but more slowly. When we were done, we were pleasantly satisfied but not exhausted.

I left her sleeping on her bed and returned to my room to clean up. I went down to the lobby to meet my staff members as they arrived. It was almost one pm when I got to the lobby. I settled into a comfortable chair to wait. I didn't have to wait long. Bethany, "call me Beth," was the first to arrive. Beth was based in the Twin Cities in Minnesota. There are a number of large integration firms specializing in Government services in St. Paul and Minneapolis and we had established a small office there to work with them and their projects. I met her at the reception desk. After she checked in I suggested we get lunch at the restaurant off the lobby. I went to get us a table while she went to her room with the bellman.