Conference Hookup, pt 1
Priya loves all the travel she gets to do for her job, except when that travel takes her to a conference. They're loud and boring, but she spices it up by finding herself short and sweet hookups...
Welcome to November! Fun fact, this November has five Saturdays! Which means I’m skipping over this past Saturday and sticking to just doing four themed posts during the month like I’ve done so far.
That said, this month is travel-themed and I’m starting off with the story concept y’all voted for back at the beginning of October, which was “Propositioned at the Hotel Bar”. Now this first part follows that prompt and is loosely travel based, however part 2 for next week is just because I started to think about what kind of sexy hijinks these characters could get up to at the actual conference and it was too ridiculous for me not to pursue. So part 2 will be less travel-themed. But whatever, my Substack, my rules.
Also, because this is the first post of November, it’s also time to vote on your favorite story idea for December’s theme—which is, of course, Christmas, because I can’t not do Christmas…
So please read through the story ideas below and let me know which one you’d most like to see turned into a short!
It feels like I’m at a new conference every quarter and every single one is always the same. We set up a booth, one of our sales representatives works the floor talking to people she’s probably spoken to at other conferences already this year, and I sit in the back bored out of my mind for three days.
As tech support for the sales department, I get the benefits of traveling on the company dime without the high-stakes stress of making a sale like the reps do. I simply have to be there to make sure everything is running as it should, provide tech demonstrations during pitches, and answer the more advanced technical questions clients might have.
It seemed like a great entry-level job for me and my company loved the fact I’m young and childless so I don’t have any family obligations preventing me from traveling on the regular.
For the most part, I do like the job, but conferences…that’s a special kind of hell.
I’m not sure if it’s the chaotic energy of too many extroverted sales reps in one place or the strange micro culture that somehow develops and falls in the span of only three days, but whatever it is, it is miserable.
As per my pre-conference tradition, I drop off my small suitcase in my hotel room, slip into something pretty—since I’m about to spend several days uncomfortably frumpy in a pair of khakis and a work polo—and then head for the hotel bar.
After a nice martini or two, I’ll have forgotten the hour in the TSA line, the hour sitting around at the terminal because—as always—I show up too early, the four hours flying here, and then the hour sitting in traffic in a taxi with the sales rep as she makes a million calls to arrange networking opportunities during the conference.
“A lemon drop, please,” I say as I slide onto a barstool at the far end of the bar. After establishing a tab and getting my drink, I settle in and look out over the noise.
Obviously, the hotel hosting the conference is going to be where the vast majority of attendees stay. As such, it’s also not a surprise that many of those people head straight for the bar to unwind after a day of travel and to start networking early.
I, however, will not allow a word of shop talk to pass over my lips. I’m here to drink and people watch. That’s it.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a question? A woman’s opinion would really help settle an argument.”
My body tenses at the sudden intrusion upon my thoughts and I turn to find a man standing a respectable distance away, though he is clearly looking to close the gap as soon as he can.
“You already asked a question,” I mutter, annoyed I haven’t gotten three sips of my drink in before being bothered.
“Oh, that’s no fun. You aren’t supposed to be that quick-witted this late in the day.”
I glare at him, giving him a once over.
He’s in a pair of slacks, a jacket, and a dress shirt unbuttoned at the top so I can see his collar bone. He has a lean build but a strong jawline topped with an effortless smile. His golden blond hair is a standard men’s cut, though the top of his head, where his hair is the thickest, is mussed just enough to compliment his 5 o’clock shadow and give him a handsomely scruffy appearance.
All that said, it’s clear by the bright charisma radiating from his blue eyes that this man is most definitely a sales rep.
“Correct, I am no fun. I suggest you find fun elsewhere.”
I turn with my drink raised to my lips, my eyes fleeing his inviting gaze.
“Oh come on, aren’t you at least a little curious what I was going to ask you?”
My lips pinch and I glance at him from over my shoulder and I swear his grin is reminiscent of a golden retriever puppy.
“Excellent! Now here’s my question, are you the kind of woman that would take pity on an ugly man and share a drink with him?”
I roll my eyes.
“How does that one even work when you aren’t even close to being ug—“ I stop mid-word because I discovered the trap much too late.
“So you think I’m handsome?” he asks, beaming.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But I’m not even close to being ugly.”
“Is pissing a woman off your best method for picking her up?” I ask with a huff, facing him again. It’s when I turn in my seat, swinging my knees around and brushing his that I realize he went from standing to sitting next to me in the blink of an eye.
“No,” he says with a shrug as he waves the bartender over. “Can’t really say I have a great method for breaking the ice with beautiful women, but I can usually get them to at least talk to me.”
My face flushes when he calls me beautiful. Admittedly, I bring my little black bodycon dress and heels because I want to look pretty and show that I don’t need to be the beaming ray of sunlight that a sales rep is to be attractive. However, I don’t often have someone come over and call me beautiful so easily. I’ve had my fair share of conference hookups, but those were very transactional and usually involved only a handful of words.
He gets a glass of bourbon from the bartender and looks back at me with his stunning smile, which I’m sure has clients tripping over themselves most of the time.
“Now technically, I think anyone can sit on these stools no matter how their neighbor feels, but I will vacate this very precious spot if you don’t want to hear any more from me.”
“No. It’s your right to sit there if you please.” It may be dismissive but I think he catches the note of gratitude in my voice for giving me the option to send him away. “I do, however, have one rule if you are going to chat me up—no shop talk.”
I give him a sharp look. He answers it with an amused smirk, but also a softer gaze that’s warm and hungry.
“Perfect. There’s so many more interesting topics out there and far better ways to spend our time.”
My cheeks flush even though it’s hard to tell if he actually flirting with me.
“So,” he says, his voice back to a bright playfulness that has me questioning the heat from earlier, “can I ask you where you’ve come in from? Don’t need specifics, just curious where you hail from.”
From there we chat about almost everything that isn’t work related. What our favorite vacation spot is… What we’d do with a billion dollars… Which upcoming movie we most want to see…
With alcohol lubricating the wheels, our conversation rolls along easily and our bodies keep gravitating closer and closer so we can hear each other over the rising roar of drunk professionals preparing for the conference days ahead.
“Then I turned around and my balcony door was locked.”
“Oh no,” he says, chuckling loudly, his eyes watery with inebriation and cheeks red with mirth. “You did say you had a robe on though, right?”
“I did. I mean I wouldn’t have stepped out to have my coffee completely naked.”
“You’re missing out. Naked coffee is the best.” He raises his mostly empty glass of bourbon with a wink.
The laughter that comes out of me is louder and more full-bodied than I would usually allow myself to do in front of a handsome man, but the combination of martinis, the rising humidity in the room from packed in bodies swaying to music, and the fact his knee has made its way between mine, has me a bit more off kilter than usual.
“Are you suggesting I enjoy steaming hot liquid without any protection between it and my skin? Because I think I’ll pass.”
“Why? I don’t think you’d notice the burn since you’re already hot as hell.”
He leans a little closer and I feel his hand on my bare knee, his fingers stretching to tease the hem of my dress.
“Subtle,” I say with a smirk, not necessarily opposed to the flirtation.
“That’s unfortunate,” he says, cocking his head and skimming my thigh before sliding over the side of it to grab the seat of my stool. “I’ve really been trying to be obvious at this point. So I guess I’ll just get right to it.”
With a tight grip on my stool, he yanks my seat forward until the knee between my thighs slides beneath my dress.
“Fuck.” I barely get that single whispered word out before his hand moves from the stool to the top of my ass, which comes at me from the side facing the bar so the swarm of people around us won’t notice—although everyone else is drunk, horny, and distracted so I’m not sure anyone would notice or care anyway.
“You’re beautiful, Priya.” He leans in so his face is inches from mine and his hand pushes my ass forward so my crotch is pressed directly onto his knee, which he is now bouncing like a nervous fidget. “And I’d like to take you up to my room and fuck you until you’re hoarse from screaming. In fact, the more noise complaints I can rack up, the happier I’ll be. What do you say?”
His hand is still on my ass, his finger finding the crevice so it can slide down and slip between me and the stool cushion. He then presses up, searching for my puckered hole, which he knows he’s successfully found when a gasp pushes me toward him.
“Mmm, as nice as it is to see you trembling,” he rasps against my ear now that I’m practically atop of him, “I need a clear yes from you before I spirit you away and plow the naughty hole that’s getting my pants all wet.”
I whimper as his bouncing leg pushes his knee even harder against my slit. My hips buck against him, seeking the friction my clit so desperately needs.
“So Priya, do you want to take this somewhere more private or should I relieve your sweet pussy right here in front of everyone?”
Fuck, that just about undoes me.
I can picture him bending me over the stool, thrusting into me from behind while the lewd crowd around us cheers him on.
However, as hot as that fantasy is, I’d rather get behind closed doors before I come in front of people I’m going to have to face every day for the next few days.
“Take me upstairs, Liam. Please.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
His hand is off my ass and up in the air waving the bartender down to close our tabs. The moment we have that squared away, he moves me off my stool and wraps an arm around my waist to guide me through the crowd in the bar.
The fairly quiet hotel lobby is a shock once we emerge from the heat and noise. I shiver and my nipples tighten beneath my dress. This causes him to pull me closer and his hand slides from my hip down to my ass, giving it a possessive squeeze that urges my feet faster.
Unfortunately, we aren’t alone in the elevator headed up to his floor. Four guys who might actually be people staying in the hotel for a trip instead of the conference, crowd one side of the tight space while Liam tucks us in a back corner. As the others excitedly recap their day with one another, the hand on my ass reaches between my legs.
Despite our audience, the lusty sales rep shows no fear or hesitation as he drives his finger beneath the elastic band of my thong and dips right into my entrance.
I bite my lip, suppressing the gasp threatening to grab the attentions of everyone else in the elevator. My knees shake as his middle finger unapologetically fucks me, digging in and curling against my wall as it drags back out. There’s sweat beading along my hairline and my nipples are hard enough to see through the tight binding of my dress.
Liam pushes the side of his hip into mine, which drives my other hip against one of the shiny metal walls. The pressure keeps me standing and it lets him change his stance so he has a better angle to finger me.
I’m biting my lip so hard, I think it might bleed, but then the elevator dings and the four men file out still laughing about some sort of encounter they had during the day, completely oblivious to the fact I’m seconds away from coming.
When the door shuts and we’re five floors from our destination, Liam shifts to stand in front of me. His free hand is on my chin, pulling my face to meet his as he slouches to get his hand further between my legs. Then, he plunges two fingers into me and his lips surround mine in a blistering kiss that swallows the scream as the sudden addition of another thick digit has me coming.
By the time the elevator dings again, I’m pressed into his chest, trying to stay standing as my own juices trickle down my legs.
“Still with me, Priya?” he asks brightly, pausing to suck my taste off his fingers. “I still have so much I want to do with you.”
I answer with just a nod that drags me cheek over his shirt, likely staining it with a bit of my makeup.
“Excellent, this way.”
The rest of the way to his room is a blur that involves a couple of turns through endless repetitive hallways. Finally, he fishes his wallet out of his pocket, scanning his card through the leather before pushing the door open with his shoulder.
Once we’re inside and the door seals with a satisfying click, we both spring into action.
The privacy of the room and my recovery from the orgasm only a minute or two ago, has given me a boost of energy. I kick my heels off just in time to be hefted up into Liam’s arms. My legs wrap around his waist and ankles lock against his lower back while he presses me up against the door.
“This whole damn floor is blocked off for the conference,” he growls, pushing the hem of my stretchy dress over my ass and hips. “I want them all to hear your screams and see my door rattling as they drag their drunk asses to bed.”
I whimper beneath his words and my pussy clenches around nothing, shooting a frustrated zing of need through me.
One hand digs into my ass cheek, keeping me steady as his other hand fumbles with his belt and pants’ button. He whisper a few curses against my collarbone as his clothes fight against him.
I, however, feel like there are better ways to pass the time as he works his cock free.
My hand tangles into his hair, pulling his face away with a yank that is met with a lusty growl. Then my other hand tugs down the top of my dress, freeing my breasts.
This time when my hand drags him down to meet my waiting nipple, his response is a groan that is quickly muffled by my soft round flesh. He draws my tip into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before biting down just enough to feel a prick of pain jolting through my limbs.
“Liam!”
He chuckles against me skin, sucking on the sore flesh. All the while, he’s broken through the restraints of his clothes and needs only to free his length from his boxers. Once he does, I find he’s hard, hot, and dripping for me.
“Birth control?” he asks, stroking himself in a desperate effort to hold back the need trembling through him.
“IUD,” I answer, grinding my moist core over the knuckles pumping his shaft. “Now get that fucker inside me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says playfully before following through with one deep, powerful thrust.
“Fuck!”
“That’s right, scream for me, baby.”
With our bodies locked together, both hands are on my hips, anchoring me as he unleashes all the coiled tension he’s been holding in since the bar. The way he pistons into me may have been enough to get the door rattling like he wished. However, my pussy clenches greedily around his cock, lifting my hips off the wood every time he pulls back. Which means each returning thrust sends my entire lower half back against the door, causing it shake on its hinges with far more force than if I remained flush with the wood.
“Harder,” I groan. “Faster!”
“Grab the bar above you,” he commands.
It takes me a moment to realize he means the contraption above the door that slows it down when closing so it doesn’t make all the noise we’re currently making.
Following his instructions, I wrap both hands on the metal rod. With most of my weight now on the bar, he is able to adjust his hold. Instead of cupping the bottom of my ass, he slides his hands to the back of my thighs, a little ways above my knees. Then he spreads me wide and leans his weight against me, stretching my leg muscles to their limits and giving him the leverage to pound into me with a relentless force that has me seeing stars.
“Holy fuck, Liam!” I cry out as he hits spots that don’t normally get any love. “Shit, shit!”
My arms shake from the strain of holding onto the door mechanism, but I don’t give a fuck. They can hurt later, right now this man is giving me the hardest, hottest fuck of my life. Which is why, when his coarse pubic hair kisses my clit and the tip of his lengthy cock knocks against my cervix, I come utterly undone with a scream that hurts my ear drums.
“Fuck!” he snarls, his thrusts stuttering until he does one last deep push in before unloading inside my clenching core.
After that it doesn’t take long for my arms and hands to give out, my body slumping with exhaustion.
He’s quick to catch me, though, and soon both of my arms are draped over his shoulders with my cheek resting against his, all while his cock continues pulsing inside me.
“Still regret talking to me,” he whispers as he carries me over to his bed.
“Not sure I ever really did,” I mumble, my words nearly unintelligible over my loose lips.
“Good, because I’m not done yet.”
Fuck. How am I going to survive this conference when I can’t walk?