My strategy for surviving business conferences is to sit in the last row, close to the exit, so I can beat the mass exodus to the hotel bar.

The bartender nodded as soon as she saw me and began mixing my Martini with extra olives. We’d chatted after I’d checked in the night before, and a band had been playing in the corner of the lounge. I hadn’t paid much attention to them, but the bartender had told me that the guitarist was checking me out. When I’d turned to look, said guitarist gave me a lazy grin that had me thinking, Bad, bad boy. But I merely returned his smile, finished my Martini, and called it a night. This time, when she brought my drink, she said someone had already paid for it.

I didn’t bother trying to find out who’d picked up my tab, since the bar had begun to fill up. But before I’d popped the last olive into my mouth, someone slid into the seat next to me.

“I’ll have what she’s having.” The voice came from a guy I didn’t recognize from the seminar, but he still looked familiar. His hair was longish, and he had on a worn flannel shirt and faded jeans that outlined what might be a nice, thick cock. Then it hit me.

“You’re with the band,” I said.

“Yeah. My name’s James.”

“Denise,” I said, adding, “thanks for the drink. Are you working tonight?”

“I’m off,” he said. He swiveled his seat toward me, giving me that same lazy grin. “Want to hang out — maybe do something if you don’t have another business meeting?”

“Actually, I do have some business you can help me with,” I said, smiling. “Meet me in room 1673 in five.” My colleagues could speculate all they wanted. I’d be on a plane back to California by mid-afternoon the next day, and I intended to make the most of my last night in Reno.

In my room I stripped off my clothes. Not five minutes later, James knocked. I pulled him in by his shirt, popping several buttons with my eagerness. James took a moment to savor my nakedness before hauling me against his chest and crushing his lips against mine. I rubbed myself against him as my hands slid over the hefty bulge in his jeans. I lowered the zipper, grateful to find nothing but skin underneath.

Cupping his balls with one hand, I worked his thick cock with the other. James groaned into my neck, sucking and kissing, while pushing me back toward the bed.

I sat on the edge, grasped his cock, and licked it from tip to base. I sucked on his balls, swirling my tongue around them as I stroked his hard length. Pre-come dripped steadily from the tip and I licked it up. Then James slowly fed his entire length into my mouth. I sucked him down to the root, bathing him in wet heat. When I released him, he was panting almost as much as I was. My pussy was dripping, and though I wanted to keep sucking his cock, I really needed him to fuck me. Grabbing a condom from my purse, I handed it to him.

“It’s time for you to take care of business, James,” I said. “You know what to do.”

And did he ever! He quickly suited up, then started kissing his way down to my pussy. But I grabbed him by the hair, telling him he could eat later. What I really needed, first and foremost, was his cock.

James got to work, fucking me good and hard, and his deep, driving strokes had me thrusting my hips up to meet his. I came with a scream, but he didn’t let up, pushing me to two more orgasms before he finished. Our furious fucking elicited several angry thumps from someone in the adjacent room, causing us both to laugh hysterically as we lay there in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

In the morning, I let James suck me off before fucking me in the shower, then told him to look me up if he ever gets to the West Coast — for business, of course.