Heroic Measures (continued)

Even if his mind had not been impaired by the Scotch, he did not think he could have arrived at a graceful way out of this situation. To simply turn around and leave seemed rude. Instead, their gazes remained locked together.

Although Walter had no specific recollection of how it happened, the next thing he knew he was laying on his back across the large bed. His shirt was unbuttoned and open, leaving his chest bare. He looked down to see the long dark hair of the young woman as she pulled his trousers, including his underwear, exposing him completely to her. She caressed him there and, despite himself, he shivered and felt his body respond to her touch.

Her head lifted, causing her hair to fall in a dark cascade along her face. Giving him a smile that spoke of hunger and desire, she began to slide her body upward along his until her face was above his own. She then lowered her lips to his. They were warm and soft and he found himself responding in kind. Their lips parted for only a moment before they met again in a longer, lingering kiss. Walter felt her tongue touch his, probing. Her breasts were soft and warm against him. Part of him wanted it to stop, to prevent the unpardonable situation from going any further, but he felt unable to resist, from moving away from beneath her to go . . . where?

Lifting herself from him, she ran her fingers longingly along his bare chest. She then descended upon, taking him inside her. Walter breathed an ecstatic moan. His head tilted back and his eyes closed as the intensity of the experience impacted him. She moved upon him, rocking him toward an orgasmic release.

He had but one thought as he climaxed within her: Clara.

#

August 14, 1994 . . .

Walter awoke sometime later in darkness. The clock by the bedside read: 2:18. He raised himself onto one arm, still feeling vaguely foggy. Had it been a dream? He reached out onto the bed to find that he was alone. Switching on the light, he then recognized immediately that it was not his room. She was gone. And he realized that he had not even known her name.

He dressed quickly, hoping that she had at least paid for the room. As he left it, he was relieved to find the hallway empty. Despite the hour, it was not unlikely that someone else might be returning from some late-night revelry. He made his way to the elevator and punched for the floor where his room was located.

For some reason, he hesitated when he reached his room. Finally, unable to the source of his unease, he inserted the key and opened the door. To his relief, the message light on the desk phone remained dark. He had feared that he might it flashing, meaning that Clara had called and, upon receiving no answer, had left a message for him. That she had not did little to ease his guilt, but it gave him more time to come to terms with it.