Fit At Forty

James opened the door of the minibar and pulled out a bottle of water. He opened it and gulped down half of it, swaying on his feet as he put the lid back on. The hotel room wasn't quite spinning, but he knew he was very drunk.

He walked to the window and looked out, seeing the three people that had been in his room just moments earlier climbing into a taxi. It had been a strange night.

James was a technology consultant, working with a client in a city about three hundred miles from his own home. He'd been with them for nearly three months, coming into the project late on in the implementation phase. He'd got on really well the team he'd worked with, to the point that they'd invited him to the department's annual summer party. It was a Friday night, and though he normally went home on a Friday he'd extended his stay so he could attend the party.

It had been a good night. The department had hired the garden of a local hostelry, laid on a great barbecue and plenty of free beer and wine. It was the height of summer in the South of England, so the weather was hot. Everyone had changed into summer clothing and were in good spirits. James had met a few people from the wider department that he had previously only known in the passing.

At midnight, the party had ended. Some of the employees had gone home, a couple of the much younger guys had gone to a club and the senior managers had continued to a nearby casino. James had been stood talking with three members of the team he most closely worked with; Carl, Angela and Kylie, all HR administrators. They were all in their mid twenties. James was 33, so a few years older. Another lady was with them, Jennifer, who worked in the Recruitment team and was good friends with Angela. On the way out of the venue, they'd hooked up with another small group and the bubbly Kylie had suggested they all retire to the bar at James' hotel, which was just around the corner.

They'd sat in the bar for an hour or so, drinking mojitos, laughing and joking. James had listened with amusement as they slagged off some of their colleagues, moaned about management and teased him about the "shitty system" he and his colleagues were implementing for them. As the early morning rolled in, they'd ended up being the only group in the bar and the barman had announced he was closing up, though room service would still be available. That had prompted most of them to call it a night and go home, and was how he had ended up with Carl, Angela, Kylie and Jennifer in his hotel room and a round of mojitos on his room bill.

They'd drunk the cocktails, continued talking and laughing, to the point they'd heard a loud knock on the wall from the neighbouring room. Angela had announced she was "hammered and really needed to get some sleep," and had phoned for a taxi. She lived on the same side of the city as Carl and Kylie and they had taken the chance to share the taxi. A text to Angela's phone had confirmed the taxi was outside and they'd all given James a hug as they left his room, loudly telling each other to be quiet as they giggled their way towards the lifts. Jennifer, who obviously didn't live in the same direction, had gone to the door with them but had instead just gone into the bathroom.

He heard the flush of the toilet in the bathroom. He wondered if she had called a taxi too and he took another long drink of water. Wow, he felt very drunk. He turned and leaned against the window, feeling a wave of tiredness sweep across him as he closed his eyes.

He heard the lock click on the bathroom door and he looked up to see Jennifer emerging. It struck him, not for the first time, how attractive she was.

All the girls had been in summer party outfits, though Kylie, at five foot tall with, he guessed, a size 16 figure and Angela, a few inches taller but with a heavy frame hadn't caught his attention, despite short dresses with thin shoulder straps. Jennifer meanwhile, was closer to his own height of 5ft11, and slim, accentuated by the incredibly short cotton white skirt and pink, white and yellow tube top she was wearing. As she walked towards him, his eyes took in her toned midriff, the studs in her pierced belly button glinting in the dim light. She walked confidently on toeless white shoes with thin spiky heels and he found his eyes focussing on her slender tanned legs. Her skirt was probably 10 inches at most in length and it struck him how different she looked to the few occasions he'd seen her at work.

He'd had very little to do with the Recruitment team and though he'd certainly noticed her before, he'd never spoken to her until tonight. And to be honest, she'd been pretty quiet that night, speaking more to Angela and a few of the others than him directly.

She was very pretty, with bobbed hair, streaked in different shades of dark and light brown and blonde. She had large, dark brown eyes, highlighted by dark mascara. She had a slim face, with a thin nose, cutely upturned at the bottom, light pink blush on her upper cheekbones and matching lipstick. He found it difficult to place her age.

"And then there were two, huh?" she said, sitting on the sofa to his left and crossing her legs.

James felt his eyes wandering to her upper thigh, looking away sharply as he realised he could just make out her bum cheek as the skirt rode up.

"Umm, yeh," he replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "You...ummm...where do you live then? Not anywhere near the others I guess?"

"Outside of the city," she replied. "A little village. Suburbia," she grinned.

He noted she was holding a small clutch bag on her lap; he expected she was about to take out her phone and arrange a taxi.

"So, how come you weren't hanging out with your own team," he asked, feeling a need to create conversation to prevent his drunken self from simply gawping at her.

"You heard what everyone was saying about the recruitment team," she laughed. "Bunch of tarted up blonde dolly birds with no personality," she continued. "They all really do my head in."

James nodded and smiled. "Yep, they don't sound popular."

Jennifer shook her head. "It was fine when Angela was in the team, at least there was someone there I got on with, but fuck, it's painful working there now."

"Must be awful," James said sympathetically. "No chance you could switch teams?"

"Maybe," she replied, placing her right arm on the sofa and leaning back slightly. "Depends on the next round of redundancies I guess. Might be some opportunities but the company seem hell bent on giving jobs to all the younger folk so I'm probably fucked."

James frowned. "Younger folk?"

"Yeh," she nodded. "If you are over 35 in that place you've got no chance."

"Really?" he replied, furling his brow. You...you're not over 35 are you?

Jennifer laughed. "Oh, charmer."

"No, no," he said defensively. "I...seriously, I didn't think you were over 35." He was speaking honestly, genuinely surprised.

She grinned. "That's very sweet of you. How old do you think I am then?"

James felt another pang of discomfort as she stared at him with an amused expression.

"I...well...I don't know. I'd have thought...well, early thirties at most."

She chuckled, a smile creeping across her face. "I was 40 two weeks ago."

"Wow," he replied genuinely. "I mean...40 is not exactly old or anything, but you know...I mean..." he felt his cheeks flush. In a million years, he wouldn't have guessed she was as old as 40. "You look so...ummmm...well...fit." He cursed himself at his choice of word.

"Fit at Forty. I'll take that as a compliment then," she grinned.

James fumbled with the water bottle lid. She leaned across to her left, placing her bag on the floor. James' eyes widened as her skirt rode further up her thigh and he got a clear view of her tight buttock. She was in incredibly good shape, with smooth skin more typical of a twenty something than someone who has just turned 40. It occurred to him that he didn't actually have much experience of such scantily clad females of any age, so maybe it was just his own prejudices.

As she straightened up, he quickly averted his gaze, his eyes falling on the tattoo or right ankle.

There was a moment of awkward silence as she looked directly item, and he found himself mumbling "ummm...cool...errr...tattoo." He took another gulp of water.

"Oh, thanks," she said. To his amazement, she uncrossed her legs and stretched our her right one towards him. "It's a dragon head, with the tail spelling out my daughter's name. Rihanna. She was born in Wales, hence the dragon," she explained.

James forced himself to focus on her ankle, desperately trying to ignore the stretched leg pointing towards to him. "That's...that's really...ummm...nice," he replied awkwardly. "How...how old is she?"

Jennifer withdrew her leg and crossed them again. "She's 10 now. What about you? You got kids?"

James nodded. "Yeh, a little boy. 6 months."

She smiled. "Awww cute. Does your wife not hate you working away all the time then?"

James shrugged. "Well, to be totally honest, I kinda earn enough that I don't think she cares!" He was being totally truthful. It had been difficult with Sophie, his wife, since she'd fallen pregnant and the intimacy in their relationship had gone from infrequent to non existent since Daniel had been born. It was a situation made worse by the fact he was away from home Sunday through Thursday night normally, and that Daniel was not a good sleeper.

"How long you been married?" she asked.

"Five years now," he replied. "And...ummm...you?"

Jennifer snorted a chuckle. "Well, I was married. 8 years. But I'm divorced now. 5 years."

James nodded sympathetically. "Oh right...must've been...ummm...tough."

She shrugged. "Not really. He was an arsehole. And it was good excuse to move bakc here. Fucking hated Wales."

James grinned. "Yeh, I once spent six months on a project in Cardiff and didn't like it much."

She laughed, and he felt himself relax a little. For some strange reason, he felt a pang of relief that he'd mentioned his wife and child. He didn't know why, other than being alone in a hotel room with such a sexy lady was, for him anyway, out of his comfort zone.

"You ever cheat on her?" she asked. Her tone was so matter-of-fact it caught him completely off guard, and that momentary feeling of relief disappeared.

"What? Ummmm...well, no. No, I haven't." His hands fumbled again with the bottle top and he dropped it.

Jennifer frowned. "Aren't you a good boy then? My ex was fucking about behind my back for years. Your wife is very lucky."

James forced a smile a replied, meekly, "thanks." He drained the water from the bottle.

"How old are you?" she continued.

"33, probably look older though huh?" he joked.

She looked him up and down, adding to his feeling of discomfort. He was of medium build, a mid thirties belly just starting to form, with neatly styled dark brown hair.

"Nah, I'd have said early thirties. What about your wife? Older or younger?"

"Sophie is 31," he replied, his mouth dry despite the water.

She nodded. "I was a year younger when I had Rihanna. That's when Steve started shagging around. Actually caught him once, fucking a 19 year old in the back of our car."

James coughed. He was surprised at her frankness, and perhaps more surprised that someone would look elsewhere if he had someone like Jennifer at home.

"Silly man," he said, shaking his head.

She frowned. "Typical man you mean. Let's face it, if a skinny little 19 year old threw herself at you, would you resist?" She cocked her head, looking at him quizzically.

"I...well, I'd like to think I would!" he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure you would. Maybe it was just Steve then, always looking for a skinny little slut."

James ran his hand through his hair. He didn't know if she was being bitter, or twisted, or whether she was fishing for a compliment, or just teasing him. His mind reeled, trying to think of something sensible to say.

"Well, unless you've...ummmm...like, lost, I dunno, 10 stone or something in the last, however many years, then, I'm not sure why he'd have to go looking for a skinny..." he coughed, realising that if he repeated what she'd said about Steve, then next word's he'd have to use would be 'little slut.' As his voice trailed off, he cursed the alcohol in his system preventing him from thinking or speaking cleverly.

She burst out laughing. "...little slut?" She finished the sentence he hadn't meant to start. He felt his cheeks flush.

"Well, I've not had to go on any mad diet over the years, so maybe he was just a total dick then huh?"

She leaned back, and James couldn't help but let his eyes fall on the tightness of her midriff. There were no signs of the stretch marks that Sophie had been left with after being pregnant; just tanned, toned and smooth flesh.

"Total dick or typical bloke," she continued. He looked up at her, and for the first time saw in her serious expression maturity and slight ageing of her facial skin, perhaps the only signs that betrayed her age. "That's the thing about blokes," she went on. "Always seem to want someone younger." She sighed.

"Think he was just a dick if I'm honest," James blurted out. "I mean, if my wife looks like you when she's forty then..." his voice trailed off and once again he cursed his honesty. The room suddenly felt very hot and stuffy.

A grin broke out on her face. "Another compliment, very sweet of you."

James forced a smile. At least she'd taken it as the compliment he'd meant.

She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her gaze. "Were you being totally truthful when you said you'd never cheated on...Sophie isn't it?"

James nodded, both to confirm she had his wife's name right and also that he'd been faithful.

"Seriously?" she continued. "You spend most of your life in hotels, working away from home and you haven't ever...ever, cheated on her?"

James nodded again. It was true. It wasn't that he didn't look at other women. Surely all blokes did that? As he thought about it, it struck him that he'd never actually been in a position to cheat on his wife. Whether it was through ineptitude, or an innate ability to avoid such situations, he'd managed to make it through his married life without ever having to deal with the prospect of infidelity. Sure, he'd formed relationships with females and if he was honest, had fantasised plenty often enough, but that had been the extent of it.

"Honestly, I've never," he replied, shaking his head.

Jennifer frowned. "How come? I mean, you must have...you know, had opportunities?"

James shook his head again, exhaling. "Seriously. I guess...well, I guess I've never been in a situation to...you know."

Her eyes narrowed again, then a little grin appeared on her lips. "What would you do if you were in a situation to...you know?" She repeated his words with a giggle.

James ran his hand through his hair. The honest answer was that he didn't know what he'd do. The correct answer of course was that he would politely reject the proposition. He opened his mouth to say the latter.

"I don't know what I'd do," were the words that tumbled from his mouth though. Again, he internally cursed his honesty.

Jennifer nodded slowly. She was looking at him intently, her gaze burning into him. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry. What was she thinking? What was she going to ask him next?

"Let's find out then, shall we?" she said firmly.

James blinked. "Huh?" He was confused.

Jennifer flashed a brief grin across her face, then to his astonishment, uncrossed her legs, leaned across on her left side and slightly raised her right leg. Her hand slid up her thigh, fingers curling around the bottom of her skirt then in a smooth movement, she pulled the material up to her hips until his eyes were filled with the view of her naked bum cheeks.

James gasped, his eyes widening as she raised her right leg a little higher.

"Oh my god!" He gulped as he stared at her. "Y...you...you aren't wearing...p...panties..." his voice trailed off, his gaze focussed on the glimpse of her pussy lips between her pressed together thighs.

"They're in my bag," she replied, her tone steady. "I can put them back on if you like?"

James exhaled loudly. He covered his mouth with his hand, his mind reeling. Had she really just done that? Had this, basically, stranger, just lifted her skirt to show him her naked pussy, in his own hotel room? How should he react? What should he say? He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. He blinked, then tore his eyes away and looked at her face.

"J...Jennifer...w...what are you doing?"

She smiled at him, then rolled across to her right, leaning against the back of the sofa. She spread her legs apart, the left one planted on the floor while she brought her right leg up onto the sofa. Her right hand fell down between her legs, blocking his view of her pussy.

"Oh god. Jennifer...fuck," he mumbled.

She moved her hand up an inch, and he couldn't stop himself from looking at the pinkness of her opening. She was totally smooth, her pussy lips dark. Her inner thighs were as tight and tanned as her midriff. He gulped again, and felt his cock twitch in his boxer shorts.

"Fuck...incredible," he said, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.

"Incredible in general, or incredible coz I'm 40?" she asked.

James raised his eyes to look at her face. "What? I...well...just...just incredible."

She smiled. "Do you want a closer look?"

James felt his heart beat quicken; his stomach fill with nerves. "I...well..." He didn't know what he wanted.

She pulled her hand away, giving him a clear view. "Is your wife shaved?" she asked.

The mention of his wife made him jump. "No," he replied honestly. It was something he didn't like, but the fact she wasn't shaved didn't make much impact given their sex life had pretty much dried up.

"You like it hairy, or bare?"

He blinked, looking straight at her face. "B...bare," he replied, stunned at the directness of her questioning.

"Come and have a closer look then," she smiled. "Just a look, see what you are missing out on." She giggled.

Without thinking, he took the three steps forward that had him standing in front of her, looking down between her legs.

He shifted his gaze, back up towards her face, realising his eyes had taken a moment longer than they should to pass her tube top, wondering what her boobs would be like. He felt his cock stiffen, and shifted the material on his crotch clumsily.

She grinned. "Kneel down if you like, you'll get a better view."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; pointless given how dry his lips were. Why did she want him to kneel?

"Go on, you know you want a good look at my bare pussy," she whispered.

The words shot through him with a bolt. 'My bare pussy.' His cock twitched again as he became fully erect, and he could feel it push against his jeans. More out of embarrassment that he was tenting than a willingness to kneel in front of her, he slowly crouched down until his eyes were almost on a level with her pussy.

She placed her hand back between her legs, splaying her fingers to pull her pussy lips aside. He let out an unconscious groan as he stared at her opening, the bright pink of her vagina contrasting with her tanned skin.

"You like that then?" he heard her say.

He nodded, then tore his gaze away to look her in the eyes. "Well, of course...it's...well, incredible, as I'd said. But...why...I mean what...what are you doing?"

She smiled at him, then bit her bottom lip. She was surveying him again, and once more, he felt his cheeks flush.

"Touch it," she whispered.

"I...I shouldn't," he mumbled. "I really shouldn't." He shook his head.

"Mmmmm," she moaned softly, her eyes closing.