A few months earlier, RuthAnn had been in town for a retail meeting. Forty-five years old with a preoccupied husband and an empty nest, she was pursuing a store of her own and trying to get it established. She was still slim and toned with a good rack (at least that's what her husband said). He said he liked the heft and size of her boobs. But he hadn't hefted her boobs in months.
On that trip, she was assaulted repeatedly on the bus ride by men she called Elbow Guy and Sports Guy. Against all reason, she had come to look forward to it and even enjoy it. She had been ready to cut loose in the back room of the bar with Sports Guy and Elbow Guy when a fire alarm had ended everything and sent them into the alley. RuthAnn was back to satisfy the itch that wasn't scratched the last time.
However, after a couple of days in town, she was disappointed. She had ridden the bus repeatedly. It was crowded with people but nothing happened. There was no sign of Elbow Guy or Sports Guy or even Old Guy. No one pinched her ass. No one cupped her breast. The bottom line was she was having no fun.
When she got home at night, she would immediately strip down to her panties. After lying down on the bed, she would cup her left breast, run her hand inside her panties, and start stroking her lips. Tweaking her nipple, she would rub faster and faster until she got wet. Finally, she would go over the edge and come. However, it was tepid. Not like on the bus, at all.
After the third day in the city, she decided to drown her sorrows at the hotel bar instead of going straight back to her room. After downing a glass of wine, RuthAnn noticed a younger woman sitting next to her. Crap, she couldn't even attract a man. The woman looked fit, attractive, and about twenty-five years old, which was about her daughter's age.
After ordering a second glass of wine, the woman turned to RuthAnn and smiled.
"Hard day?"
RuthAnn pondered.
"Just a little disappointed."
"In what?"
RuthAnn couldn't tell this woman about her fantasies, her kink, if you will. So she deflected.
"Are you here on business?"
"I'm at a forensics conference."
"Forensics. Why?"
"I'm a detective. My name is Kelle by the way."
"RuthAnn."
So the women shared a drink. After about twenty minutes, they repaired to a booth where they ordered another round. There was something like an instant connection between them. RuthAnn couldn't figure out what it was. Kelle talked about her job and how she had risen quickly to detective. RuthAnn related how her children were away and her husband was preoccupied with work. She looked at her watch and it was going on eight o'clock so they decided to have dinner in the bar.
During dinner RuthAnn had shared that she had had a puzzling experience on her last trip. Kelle wanted details but RuthAnn demurred. Kelle said she had had a puzzling experience of her own a few weeks back as well. About 9:30 they were done. RuthAnn had had a wonderful evening.
Kelle suggested that they hit the minibar in her room since the city was picking up the tab for the hotel. RuthAnn wasn't ready for the evening to end so she agreed. Once back in the room with a Courvoisier in their hands, Kelle again asked RuthAnn about her puzzling experience.
So reluctantly, RuthAnn told her about the bus trips, the groping, and the damp panties and most reluctantly of all the orgasm. Then she waited for the disbelief and judgment. It didn't come. Instead, Kelle told her about a lost bet, a biker bar, a girl named Holley and her own orgasm. RuthAnn gaped in disbelief. She was more than a little drunk and had trouble wrapping her mind around it.