I was the one to whom everyone told their secrets. Friends trusted me implicitly. Things they’d never whisper to anybody else, they would confess to me. It had always been this way.

I was glad to lend an ear, but sometimes it got to be a bit much. I had enough salacious dirt on every one of my friends that I could have blackmailed them from now until doomsday — but of course, I never would.

There was a burden that came with that level of intimate knowledge. I was the only one in our circle who knew Deborah had started visiting an S&M club. Only I was aware that Daniel had his first gay experience two months ago and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It got even more complicated than that. Luke had confessed he was cheating on Diane, which turned out to be fine, since Diane told me privately that she was sleeping around on Luke.

That lascivious info piled up in my brain. The details could be overwhelming. My personal life had its share of romance and sexual adventure, but the confessional data was like a dragging weight. It was as if I weren’t just living my life, but also somehow inhabiting everyone else’s drama.

So, when I was sent away on a business convention weekend after nobody else wanted to go, I was so happy. What I needed more than anything right now was some sweet anonymity. I wanted to be around people whose secrets I didn’t know, people who also didn’t know me. It would be refreshing.

The convention wasn’t anywhere prestigious or exotic, which was why few in my company were interested in attending. I didn’t care. I didn’t intend to leave the hotel or conference center.

I flew out, checked in, contacted the conference chairwoman, and arranged for all my official meetings and seminars.

Meanwhile, there was the informal side to the weekend — the personal contacts one might make. Different corporate reps mingled in the lobby bar. I wanted a drink, but I didn’t feel like getting chummy.

I left off my name tag and went down in the elevator. I was already feeling a little more at ease. My friends — God love ’em — were far away, a hornet’s nest of problems and emotional craziness that I didn’t have to deal with for a couple of days.

Here at this hotel I was just Gwen. Actually, without my name tag I wasn’t even that. I was just “woman in business suit,” like an extra in a movie. Granted, I was younger and hotter than a few of the other women I saw around.

When I got to the bar, I ordered a gin and tonic. Around me I heard the swirl of corporate conversation, with flirty undertones and the occasional double entendre. All these others were here for the weekend, too. Some saw that as the opportunity for a hookup. I hadn’t come here with the intention of getting laid.

A peace came over me. Without my identifying tag I was invisible to the other reps circulating around the bar. Seriously, it was like I was outside their visible spectrum if I wasn’t a potential contact. That suited me fine. I smirked privately and sipped slowly at my cocktail.

Eventually I grew aware of someone observing me. He appeared to be another lone wolf, a man without a name tag. He was nicely dressed, his fine features evident even at a distance. He wasn’t ogling me, but now and then his gaze alit on me and held a moment before moving on.

In the abstract, the attention was pleasant. But when he got up and came toward me, I considered bolting out of the bar. My mind took the moment and turned it inside out, and suddenly I had an idea. Maybe some sex fun would be nice — if that was what this man had in mind — but it would only be on my terms.

And those terms were going to be absolute.

He came and stood beside my stool. Up close he was even handsomer. His body seemed to have good lines beneath his suit. He was drawing a breath for his opening line when I cut him off:

“I’m with Lovers Anonymous,” I said. Then, to drive the point home, I pretended to offer him a business card.

He took my invisible card, “examined” it, then peered into my eyes. Here was the real test. Would he start talking, or would he understand the premise?

He smiled, nodded, and made a courtly gesture toward the bar’s exit.

In the elevator, I hit the button for my floor. I waited. If he spoke — if he so much as told me his name — I would cancel this thing. But he remained silent. Excitement kindled in me. There was an added thrill to the normal arousal I might feel. The notion of completely anonymous sex brought a tingle to me.

I opened the door with my key card. He followed me in. My anticipation mounted. Was I really doing this? It certainly wasn’t my sexual M.O., but it seemed a good antidote to the avalanche of too much information I’d been subjected to back home.

We stopped at the foot of the broad hotel bed and faced each other. I imagined what words would normally go here, then pushed them out of my mind. I leaned in to kiss him. He was doing the same, the timing perfect. Our lips met. The kiss started off soft, gentle, then it grew in passion. Our mouths worked together. Lips parted. Tongues emerged. Our arms swept around each other. We were pressing tightly together.

I didn’t know his name. I didn’t even know what his voice sounded like! Uncertain why that was such a turn-on, I kissed him harder. I grinded my body against his. I shamelessly jammed my crotch on his, feeling his delectable swelling.

His strong hands roved over my back. I slid mine beneath his suit jacket to grope his torso, relishing his muscular shape. If we were talking, I’d probably have to ask him if he worked out. But this was wordless. All the inane preliminaries had been eliminated.

We started divesting each other of our clothing. I eagerly shed my business apparel, then my underwear. He stood naked before me. His cock stood tall and firm. His body was gorgeous.

Together we got onto the bed, lying down facing each other. Our mouths came together, hungrily searching. Our tongues swirled eagerly.

I explored his skin, which was smooth with hard muscle beneath. I reached behind and groped firm chunks of his ass. He put a hand to my breast and squeezed. My nipples twanged with pleasure. My pussy was already hungry.

His hard cock pressed against my belly. I could feel the individual throbs of his fat swollen cockhead. I took him in my grip. His body jerked at the contact, and he made a grunting sound — no words, though. He must have fully understood by now that this was to be a wholly anonymous encounter.

That anonymity freed us both. We didn’t have to cautiously feel each other out. Obviously, this was a purely sexual episode, two people attracted to each other. But typically one-night stands required conversational foreplay. Details had to be exchanged.

Not tonight.

I began to nibble my way down his chest. When he saw where I was heading, he helpfully rolled onto his back. I slipped into the embrace of his strong legs. Muscular thighs closed on my shoulders. My face hung above his cock.

Cradling his balls in my hand, I dropped my mouth onto his hard knob. I ran my tongue over him. Reaction ran through his body. His legs tightened on me, then loosened as I started sucking him down to his hilt.

His inches were vein-lined. My lips stayed locked around his girth. Relaxing my neck muscles, I deep-throated him. He let out a guttural growl of pleasure. I gave his balls a gentle fondling, then I started seriously blowing him. My head rose and dropped. I sucked him all the way with every plunge. His masculine flavor filled my mouth.

I was sucking the cock of a man whose name I didn’t know. The moment was both unreal and somehow profound. But whatever it was, it filled me with a deep ecstasy. My pussy streamed.

He reached down to touch my shoulder. With a nod he indicated I should roll over. I took my mouth off him and laid back. He moved down between my legs, which I spread wide. It was a beautiful sight, seeing him kneel at the altar of my pussy, lower his mouth to my wet mound, and proceed to lick me.

His tongue was agile. He parted my lips and speared deep inside me. I rolled my hips, mashing my pussy on his face. It didn’t daunt him. He only ate me harder. Skillfully he homed in on my pulsing clit. His tongue tip flicked and batted me. I lifted my ass off the bed, an animalistic cry climbing my throat.

I came hard, pumping out my juices. When he rose from between my legs, his chin was gleaming. He looked half-dazed, half in a frenzy. I wanted his cock inside me — deep inside.

Words probably wouldn’t have been necessary at this point, but knowing they were “forbidden” made it all the more exciting. He lunged up onto me, poised above me a moment, then drove his cock into my well-licked pussy.

I sank into the mattress under his muscled weight. Quickly I rebounded, bucking my hips, matching his downstrokes with upward shoves. We were in perfect carnal harmony. He plowed me deep, bottoming out in my pussy. Pleasure radiated through me.

It was a pure act, some distant part of me noted. All the civilized trappings had been stripped away. We were like two consensual beasts. Sex was the only thing connecting us, but rather than the anonymity cheapening or tarnishing the deed, it only enhanced it.

He picked up speed. I put my hands to his shoulders, fingers sinking into firm flesh. I writhed beneath him, taking his thrusts. Mounting pleasure twisted his handsome face. I bared my teeth and hissed at him.

He was pounding me now. Our bodies smacked together loudly, nameless flesh to nameless flesh. A powerful knot of hot joy gathered. Suddenly he howled and the knot came undone. Orgasmic bliss ripped through me as his spunk came in jet after jet.

Afterward, we kissed once. Then he dressed and left. I saw him a couple times that weekend. We made eye contact and smiled but never spoke a word to each other.