Birthday at the Hotel Bar

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Disclaimer: All sex is between characters over 18. Enjoy.

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There are times when I love the travel that comes with my job, and there are times I don't. I travel every week, more or less, getting to be home every weekend. On the plus side: Seeing new cities, visiting different companies and helping them with their tech problems, getting them solved and then moving on. Meeting new people. Frequent flier miles that let you take great vacations inexpensively, and first-class upgrades that make the experience of flying more comfortable. Being on an expense account that pays for everything from when you walk out your door headed to the airport to when you get back.

The down sides? The occasional bad hotels with crappier beds, cancelled flights, jet lag, and the absences from your family that you're working to support. Eating nothing but hotel/restaurant meals. Getting stuck with a middle seat on the plane between two big guys.

My wife Sheila had been understanding of my absences, while enjoying the perks I could share with her, engaging in plenty of phone sex with me on nights I was in a hotel, then screwing my brains out once I got home. Whether or not absence makes the heart grow fonder, it certainly made us hornier for each other.

Occasionally, if I got an assignment in a city she wanted to visit, she'd come with me for a week, shop or sightsee during my work days, and we'd go out for dinner before going back to the room, and screwing all night. Our two-week trip in Waikiki when I had an assignment in Honolulu was particularly memorable. Our daughter Pam had just graduated high school, and we brought her and her younger sister Wendy with us as a reward, renting a condo instead of staying in the hotel, and the girls had so much fun in Waikiki while I worked in Honolulu, then we had the weekend to sightsee as a family. The expense account and using frequent flier miles made the whole trip not that expensive. Like I said, there is a plus-side to travelling so much.

But then ovarian cancer took Sheila from me when we were 44, and both girls were in college. They were old enough I didn't need to quit my job to be there to watch them, and my travelling continued. After they graduated, got jobs and moved out, I downsized to a small condo, since I just didn't need the space anymore, especially when I wasn't home that much.

But perhaps the worst part of all was being away from home on special days like my anniversary or birthdays, like I was going to be away on my birthday the year I turned 50. I was on a four-months long assignment, at a company in the suburbs of Baltimore, travelling there weekly from San Diego, and the project schedule just didn't allow me to work remote or take the week off to observe my birthday. The hotel I was asked to stay at by the customer (they pay the expenses, ultimately) was okay, not luxurious but just solid and well run. The best part of it was the attached restaurant and bar, serving a better-than-average menu. And the best part of that was Casey, the bartender who worked there the same nights I stayed there, waiting tables on Sundays instead of tending bar.

I thought she was twenty years younger than I was, though she was gorgeous for any age. 5'9", she was curvy without being chubby, with 38DD breasts that strained her work uniform, but were clearly natural, curly red hair reaching her shoulders, and an ass that begged to be pinched. She waited on me the first Sunday night I stayed there. Her flirtations were probably aimed at boosting her tip, so I didn't take them very seriously. But she surprised me the next night when I came into the restaurant, as she cheerfully said, "Hello, Sam!" from behind the bar as I was walking towards my table.

After I finished eating, I went back to the bar, and sat down. She saw me and came over, saying, "Hi again, Sam. What'll you have?" I asked her how she knew my name, since I hadn't mentioned it the night before. She replied, "You paid with a credit card, silly. I'm just one of those people who remember things they see like that. I think they call it a photographic memory."

I ordered a rum and coke, and wound up talking with her for about an hour, as the hotel wasn't very full that night, and the bar nearly empty. She told me she was 34, hadn't been able to afford college, and had worked as a waitress at this hotel for eight years before being trained to be a bartender. Married once, but divorced before having kids, and a single child like me, her parents had died three and two years earlier. We commiserated over our lost ones, and I showed her pictures of my wife and daughters off my phone The photo album of the digital age.

She was so very charming and funny, and I soon found myself looking forward to "Casey time" at the bar each night she worked there, eating at the restaurant on Sundays where she was usually my server, while eating at other places around town the other nights, stopping by the bar when I returned to the hotel. I'd spend about an hour at the bar each night, ordering just one or two rum and cokes, before heading up to my room to prepare for bed. Some nights she would be busy, and we couldn't talk much, but on others, she was spending a lot of time talking with me, our conversations intense, funny, and bordering on the risque. It felt like a lot more than just being friendly with a good-tipping customer, but I thought my instincts were pretty rusty. I'd been travelling so steadily since my wife died that I hadn't even tried to go on a date. I wasn't even sure I was ready yet, even 5-plus years later.

I was working up the nerve to ask her out for a date, knowing that she'd be losing money in order to take a night off if she said yes. But when I heard another bar patron try, she told him that she wasn't allowed to date customers. So I pushed the idea out of my mind.

My birthday fell on a Tuesday about two months into the project. Having to work on my birthday always irked me, and having to do it out of town was five times worse, and the fact that it was my 50th multiplied that by another factor of 10. All kinds of stuff was blowing up on the project, too, and I didn't get back to the hotel until 8:30 after putting out fire after fire all day. Dinner had been a vending machine sandwich and a Coke at the office.

So I was in a pretty sour mood when I sat at the bar that night. Casey spotted me, started making my usual rum and coke, then ducked into the area behind the bar, and came out holding a chocolate cupcake, with a lit candle in it, picked up my drink in her other hand and started singing "Happy Birthday To You!" as she walked towards me. The half-dozen others around the bar and a couple of waitresses joined in, and she set the cupcake and drink in front of me.

I sputtered. "How did you know? Let me guess, you memorized my birth date from my ID, too?"

"Of course. Now, make a wish before that candle melts all over the place!"

What I wished for, to have sex with her, would probably have gotten me slapped if I had said it out loud, but I knew wishes never came true if you said them out loud. Not that I really expected this one to. I blew out the candle, everyone clapped, congratulated me, then got back to the business of getting a buzz on. I felt the best I had all day.

I left the bar just before closing and headed to my room. I had just finished "Happy Birthday, Dad" calls from both of my daughters, when I heard a knock-knock-knock on my door. It was nearly 11 o'clock. "What the hell?" I said to myself, as I moved to answer it. I opened it to see my favorite bartender.

"Casey? What are you doing here?"

"Shhh!" she whispered, as she stepped into my room, and closed my door behind her. "If my boss knew I was here, I'd get fired."

"Okay, but that still doesn't answer my question. Why ARE you here, if you're risking your job to do it?"

"To give you my real birthday present. One night only, I'm yours." She walked the two steps over to me, put her arms over my shoulders, and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her close, pulling her breasts into me, feeling her pelvis bump mine. Her lips were soft, and tasted of a cherry lip gloss when our lips parted and I ran my tongue across them. Happy birthday to me!

As she continued kissing me, she began guiding me towards the room's bed. Not breaking contact, I lowered her down to it, winding up side by side, continuing to make out. My dick stiffened, and as close as we were, I knew she could feel it. It was at least 15 minutes before we came up for air.

She stroked a finger along my jaw, looking me straight in the eyes, and said, "This was your birthday wish, right?"

I stared. "How? Are you telepathic, too?"

She giggled. "No, but you must have been tired, because you actually moved your lips when you made your wish. I do read lips, and 'I wish I could fuck her.' came through loud and clear. I hope I'm not assuming too much to think you meant me." She began unbuttoning my shirt, continuing to look me in the eyes as she did.

"Oh, you were definitely the object of that wish. I'd have asked you on a date weeks ago, but I heard you say it wasn't allowed, and didn't want to make things uncomfortable by making you have to turn me down, too." Her hands had reached my belt.

She kissed my neck while opening my belt, and said, "Oh, it's not allowed, but it's not strictly enforced if everything stays out of the hotel. What management doesn't know, it can't do anything about."

Feeling her reach into my pants, I moaned as she ran her hand along my stiffness, and we stopped talking. I began working on her clothes, hurriedly trying to get us both naked as fast as we could. Clothes flew all over my room.

As soon as we were naked, she began kissing her way down my chest and abdomen towards my dick, while slowly turning her lower body towards me, until she could swing her knee over my face and plant her pussy right onto my mouth, just as her mouth captured the head of my dick. This had been my favorite position with my wife Sheila - Casey said she wasn't telepathic, but she couldn't have guessed what I wanted better if she was.

Her slit was different from my wife's, the outer lips smaller, the inner lips nearly hidden but glistening, the clit hiding. The patch of pubic hair on her mons was a darker red than the curls on her head. This was the first new pussy I'd eaten in nearly 30 years, ever since I met Sheila in college, and the first sex in more than five, so I took my time, exploring every inch with my tongue and fingers, gradually inflaming her parts, opening her up, revealing her button, which I sucked between my lips, gently stroking it with my tongue, side to side, up and down, circles and ovals. Releasing it, I licked my way to her opening, circling it with my tongue, seeking to plunge my tongue in her as far as possible, while thumbing her clit.

Meanwhile, Casey was driving my 8" cock crazy, stroking me with one hand while driving her mouth up and down the rest of my shaft, swirling her tongue around the head over and over. Her moans around me while I brought her to her first orgasm made my toes curl.

I pulled my tongue free and said, "Casey, sweetie, either we stop so I can fuck you, or you're about to get a mouthful of my...CUUUUM!" I've never seen a girl move so fast - she spun around and fully impaled herself on my prick, making me scream that last word, and nearly making me cum as well. She began a quick, bouncing motion, just a couple inches up and down, that was quickly driving me closer to orgasm.

Seeing the look in my eyes, she slowed down, while lengthening the strokes, allowing me to calm down so I could last longer, and giving me the chance to bring my hands to her breasts. Firm and heavy, they felt perfect, her nipples the size of gumdrops She leaned forward so I could lick and suck at her nipples, which first made her purr, then moan. I felt her cum again, her pussy rippling around my dick, causing my own moans.

I began thrusting faster from beneath her, quickening our pace again, pulled her mouth to me to lock our lips together, while I slipped one hand between us and slid my index finger across her clit, and twisted a nipple with the other. She cried out, "Oh, Sam, Sam, fuck me, I'm gonna cum again!" She screamed, arched her back, and clamped down on my dick, which triggered my orgasm.

"Ooohhhhhh, gaaawwwwdddd!" I moaned, pumping stream after stream of my sperm into her. We collapsed together, her head turned towards mine, resting on my shoulder. I brushed a few strands of hair off of her sweaty forehead, kissed her on the nose, and whispered, 'best birthday ever', and fell promptly asleep. Yeah, I know, the cliche to end all cliches - falling asleep right after cumming.

When I woke in the morning, she was gone. The crust on my pubic hair told me it had not been a dream. I got ready for work, as if it was just another day. I went out with a couple of the customer staff for dinner, then headed to the hotel. When I got there, I saw Steve, the Sunday night bartender, who sometimes shared duties with Casey on busier nights, behind the bar. He knew Casey and I were close. "Hey, Steve, where's Casey tonight?"

"Sam, she got fired because of you! The guests in the room next to yours heard you having sex rather loudly, called the front desk about the noise, and when the night manager came upstairs, he caught her leaving your room. They fired her this morning, and she told me about it while Security escorted her here to pick up her personal belongings."

"Oh, crap!" My heart hurt. "Do you know her phone number, so I can call and apologize? This is never what I wanted."

Sam shook his head no. "Sorry, never needed to know it. But I'm sure she's in the phone book."

I realized that in two months of talks with her, I had never asked Casey for her last name, but wasn't about to tell him that. He probably had a low enough opinion of me already I headed for my room, and had a hard time falling asleep, thinking about Casey being without a job because of me.

Before checking out Thursday morning, I tried to get Management to give me her number or even her last name, but they refused, citing her privacy. I decided they'd just lost my bookings for the remaining two months of the assignment. I'd find another hotel. More importantly, I had no way to get in touch with Casey! Work that day dragged on, until I headed for the airport to head home. I mulled the events of the week over and over during my two flights back to San Diego by way of Atlanta. I realized that I had fallen in love with her, and now I'd lost her before being able to tell her.

I got to my condo around midnight, and when I pulled my luggage through the door and turned on the lights, I felt surrounded by the family pictures on the walls. I looked towards my favorite picture of Sheila, and whispered, 'I'll always love you, Sheila, but now I love Casey, too. Can you ask God to help her for me?" I left everything by the door, slumped upstairs to my bedroom, and cried myself to sleep.

On Saturday, my girls came over with their current boyfriends, gifts and a cake, for a delayed celebration of my birthday. I had grilled some burgers, made salad and a few appetizers. I put on my best fake smile, still feeling heartbroken. I loved the shirts and tech gadgets they got me. They were about to put the candles on the cake (chocolate, with mint frosting), when the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, I was amazed to see Casey in front of me, a suitcase at her side. "Hi," she said, looking nervous. I pulled her to me, and hugged her tight. She squeaked. "I didn't know your phone number, and after trying every Sam Baxter in the San Diego area, I still hadn't found you. I realized I never told you my last name, so wasn't surprised you couldn't reach me. I remembered your address, though, and flying here seemed the best way to talk to you. I'm so glad you were home!"

I chuckled, "You've never heard of writing a letter? C'mon in." I picked up her bag, and we stepped inside, and I closed the door.

She sighed. "And wait a week or even two, before you got to read it? I'm just not patient enough. So I decided to mail myself instead!"

"Hey, Dad, who was at the door?" my daughter Pam called from the living room.

"Birthday party," I said quietly to Casey, pointing with my chin toward the living room. "You're invited, if you answer two questions for me. First, I need to know your last name, and second, you're about to meet my daughters - do you want to be introduced as my friend, or as my girlfriend?"

"Higgins, and girlfriend, definitely! I know I said 'just one night' before, but that's when my job was on the line. Now it's not, and I wanna see where this goes with you, if you want me."

"Oh, yes. I'm so sorry you lost your job, Casey. I felt horrible about it when Steve told me," I said.

She laughed, which surprised me. "I'm not sorry about it at all. I should have left there years ago for something better, but it provided me with some stability when my parents died. I actually have a lot of savings from life insurance policies they had, plus the equity on their house when I sold it, and was thinking about finally enrolling in college. I d like to manage or even own a hotel instead of working behind the bar. Getting fired is just a kick in the butt to get me going."

Wendy shouted, "Dad, who are you talking to? We've got the candles on!"

I took Casey's hand and said, "C'mon, I'm going to blow a couple of twenty-something minds." We walked through the short hall way towards my living room. "Girls, there's someone I'd like you to meet!"

As we turned the corner and came into view, Pam was just about to light the candles on my cake, when she looked up and her jaw dropped. Wendy whispered, "wow." Her boyfriend Andy actually started a wolf-whistle, when she hit his arm. Pam's boyfriend Kurt kept mum, but his eyes were clearly riveted to Casey's tits, which earned him a punch, too.

I laughed. "Pam, Wendy, guys, this is Casey Higgins. She worked at the hotel I've been staying at on my Baltimore assignment. Unfortunately, the hotel frowns on relationships between employees and guests, and being with me cost her her job."

"Being with me," Wendy repeated. "Dad, you're tip-toeing around it. The two of you hooked up, and she got caught, didn't you?"

Casey blushed, and hid her face behind my shoulder.

Wendy laughed, "Well, I guess we know the answer to that. Way to go, Dad! Pam and I have wondered how long it would take you to get over Mom. Do you love her?" My younger daughter always managed to cut right to the heart of things.

Casey looked up to see my answer. I nodded yes, and kissed her. "I do, she's brought a light back to my heart that I thought had been snuffed out when your mom died."

That earned me a pair of "awwwwwwwww"s from my girls and another big kiss from Casey.

I looked at both of my daughters and said, "We've got a lot to figure out, with me living here, and her living in Baltimore but with no job. But we'll get there. So how about you light those candles, and see if the smoke detector goes off. You could have put just five on instead of the whole 50."

"Oh, what's the fun in that?" Pam said, lighting the first of several matches needed to light all those candles.

All the candles lit, Casey joined in with singing "Happy Birthday To You" again. "Make a wish, Dad," Pam said. I looked at Casey, winked, and remembered to not move my lips this time. I blew all the candles out in one try, and waved away all the smoke.

Cake eaten, extra slices cut and wrapped for the girls to take home, we wound down the party. My girls hugged Casey and then me, and Wendy whispered, "I like her, Dad. You deserve to be loved again."

Door closed, I reached for Casey's hand, and we sat on the couch and talked for a couple hours, hashing out decision after decision about our hoped-for future. With no family in Baltimore, she was happy to accept my invitation to move in with me in San Diego. I had to go back to Baltimore the next day, and I'd stay at her apartment for the rest of the assignment, since I no longer wanted to stay at the hotel that had fired her, and could even pay her from my expense account while I did so, while she'd stay at my condo for the next week, rearranging closets and dressers to make room for her and start looking at colleges in the area. I'd be home again on Thursday, and the following Sunday we'd fly back to Baltimore together, and start making arrangements to move her possessions to San Diego by the end of my assignment.