Right after college, I was doing an internship with an accounting firm as a part of their sales team. They asked me to go as part of the team to a conference nearby with another sales rep. I was about twenty two and into surfing and weight lifting, and could understand why they wanted me to go. I decided to wear this charcoal pencil skirt that made my ass look incredible and a button down I deliberately left one button too low. I was bored out of my mind for the majority of the first day, sipping lukewarm coffee and doodling Pokémon in the margins of my folder at our booth.

That’s when I noticed the guy two tables over. His name was Marcus. He was sales rep from a computer software company and he looked like he’d been carved out of a block of ice. Perfectly tan skin, brown eyes, and flowing hair with a side part. It was the look back then, okay. Perfectly tailored suit, expensive watch, and that 'I’m better than you' look that always makes me want to ruin a man’s life. Every time I heard him speak, I melted a little. Such a low raspy voice that matched his energy. I'd caught Marcus glancing at my legs throughout the morning.

By the afternoon session, I decided to have some fun. I slipped my heels off under the table and started stretching my legs out. At one point, he turned to look and didn't even flinch. He just stopped and kept staring at my crotch.

I didn't even try to cover up. I actually shifted a bit, spreading my knees just enough to give him a better view of exactly what I was or wasn't wearing under that charcoal fabric. He didn't look away. He just stood up, walked towards my table while reaching into his breast pocket. He pulled out a thick, embossed business card, and slid it across our table toward me. His fingers brushed mine for a split second and the heat was instantaneous.

"Drinks at the lobby bar at seven," he muttered in that raspy, low voice that made my stomach do a complete flip. The other sales rep caught the drift of the conversation and sat there uncomfortably the rest of the afternoon knowing his intern was going to have her guts rearranged that might.

I spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the clock, my heart hammering against my ribs. When seven finally rolled around, I met him at the bar. He was still in that perfectly tailored suit, looking like a million bucks and a whole lot of trouble. We ordered a couple of expensive bourbons, but I think I only got two sips down before the way he was looking at me became unbearable. He didn't even finish his drink. He just threw a two 20s on the bar, grabbed me by the arm, and led me toward the elevators.

The second the doors closed, he had me pinned against the mirrored wall. He didn't wait until we got to the room. He was kissing me so hard I could taste the bourbon on his tongue, his hands already hiking up that pencil skirt. By the time we got to the fourth floor and was in front of his door, I was dripping wet.

We barely made it past the entryway of his room. He kicked the door shut and stripped off his coat, throwing it onto a chair while he shoved me face down onto the edge of the bed. I felt the weight of him as he climbed over me, his hands gripping my waist with a strength that told me all those hours I'd spent weight lifting were finally going to be put to the test. He unzipped his pants and I heard the rustle of clothing before I felt him.

He didn't bother with any more foreplay. He hiked my skirt and pulled my panties aside while pushing into me with one heavy, deliberate thrust. I let out a sharp gasp, my fingers digging into the duvet as I felt him fill me up completely. He was thick and solid, and he started moving with a relentless, punishing rhythm. I was able to take every bit of it, arching my back to meet him and pushing back against him with everything I had.

The sound was the best part—the wet, heavy slapping of his skin against mine and the deep, guttural growls he was making in my ear. He was hitting my cervix with every deep stroke, making my toes curl and my vision go fuzzy. After a few minutes of pounding me into the mattress, he flipped me over and hauled my legs up over his shoulders. He was staring right into my eyes while he drove himself into me, his face tight with focus. We changed positions a few times, me riding, him behind in doggy, me cleaning him off eith my mouth. He was on top again when his rhythm changed.

I could tell he was close. His thrusts got shorter and more frantic, and I was screaming his name as I felt my own climax building. He let out one final, ragged groan and buried himself deep inside me, his whole body shaking as he finished. I collapsed back onto the pillows, my breath coming in ragged gasps, feeling him pulse inside me while the room finally stopped spinning.

After we both caught our breath, we stumbled into the bathroom. The shower was massive, with one of those rainfall heads. We stood under the hot water for a long time, the steam filling the room. He washed my back, his hands much gentler now, and I leaned back against his chest, enjoying the feel of the water and the lingering ache in my muscles.

I left his room around three or four in the morning, feeling like I’d just survived a beautiful wreck. I still have that business card tucked away in an old folder somewhere.