It was a while later, when Gemma finally emerged from the bathroom, with a large bath sheet wrapped round her body and another, smaller one wrapped round her head like a turban. “Your turn,” she said. “I’ve started running a fresh bath for you. I even left you some of the bubble bath.”
At this point, she loosened the towel from round her body, so she could complete drying herself off. Glancing round at me, she said, “Look, I hope you don’t mind, but if we’re going to be sharing rooms for a while, you might as well understand that I’m not bothered about being naked in front of you. It will save awkwardness if we just get that out of the way, eh?
“Besides, we’ve both got the same bits, after all,” she added, having completely removed the towel, which she was using to pat herself dry with.
I couldn’t help but stare at Gemma’s breasts. No longer camouflaged by the bath suds, and now fully out in the open, they could only be described as impressive, verging on spectacular. I’ve always liked my own boobs, their size and shape… but Gemma’s were in a different league. The size of honeydew melons, they swayed from side to side as she towelled the various parts of her body. I also couldn’t help but notice, how her nipples crinkled to hardness, in response to the cooler air in the bedroom.
I’ve never been attracted to other women sexually but had to admit that Gemma’s breasts were quite fascinating. I found myself wondering if they would feel the same as mine, or whether they’d be softer. I quickly pushed that line of thought out of my mind.
As far as I could remember, I’d only ever been seen naked in front of other females in the showers at school, so I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the prospect of prancing around with no clothes on in front of my new boss. I’m just not wired up that way. I mumbled, “Sure, OK,” mentally admitting that Gemma did have a point, but shyly, still only stripped to my bra and panties, before disappearing into the bathroom.
By the time I’d bathed and washed my hair, when I came out into the room, Gemma was already dressed in her finery, ready for the evening. Forgoing the usual ‘little black number’, she had elected to wear a short, sequinned dress in a sea green. But the most eye-catching feature of the dress, was the plunging neckline. Gemma had obviously chosen a push-up or underwired bra, because her ample breasts were almost fully on display, with an enviable cleavage, looking for all the world, like a medieval serving wench.
“Good grief, Gemma! I know you said we’ve got the same bits as each other, but… just not the same amount, by the look of things!”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m planning on getting some horizontal action later on tonight, so I thought I might as well put the goods on show,” she said, with a giggle.
“I think that sends out a pretty clear ‘fuck me’ message, to be honest with you. But if you’ve got it, flaunt it, as the saying goes…”
“Well, my puss is in urgent need of some attention. I’ve not been with anyone for two or three weeks, so tonight is party night!”
I dressed in a slightly more restrained, but still sexy, long black dress, which showed a teasing glimpse of my more modest cleavage. But the notable feature of this dress, was the slash which extended halfway up my thigh. So, when I walked in my high heels, onlookers would be treated to a repeated ‘now you see it, now you don’t’ sexy glimpse of stockinged leg.
When we were both satisfied with our makeup and hair, we headed down to the thronging reception area, where waiting staff were circulating, serving glasses of Buck’s Fizz to the increasingly noisy groups of delegates.
Unsurprisingly, Gemma was attracting quite some attention from the men in the room, some of whom were staring quite openly – almost open-mouthed, at her ‘goods’ so openly on display. As we were sipping our drinks, Gemma turned to me and taking my elbow, leaned in a little closer, so as to be heard over the general hubbub.
“By the way, before we get too drunk, can we get things sorted for tonight?”
“How do you mean?” I asked, a little puzzled.
“I mean room-wise. Shall we just say, if you get off with anyone, you’ll take them back to our room. If I pull someone, I’ll go back to his room. It could get complicated otherwise! Is that a deal?”
At this event, like so many similar ones, there was a general understanding that unwritten ‘conference rules apply’. Meaning that whatever happened that night, didn’t ever get discussed afterwards. No gossip, no recriminations, no taletelling.
I nodded my agreement. Casting my eye around the room, there certainly appeared to be an abundance of eligible men, but equally, some competition from other, quite provocatively dressed women. I chuckled inwardly, wondering how many of these people would wake up in their own rooms in the morning…
With a fine meal polished off and the various awards announced, the band started to play, resulting in a mass exodus from tables to the dance floor. All evening, copious amounts of wine had been delivered to the tables, and the free bar was doing a roaring trade. So, by the time the music started, almost everyone in the room was inebriated to one extent or another. Inhibitions were cast to the wind and before long, various couples were alternately cavorting to the faster numbers and groping each other during the slower ones.
Gemma was certainly in demand. No sooner had she sat down after dancing, to catch her breath and gulp a drink, than she was asked to dance by yet another testosterone and alcohol-fuelled male.
I had hooked up with Ben, a good-looking guy from telesales. He was tall and slim and had a mane of bushy, dark hair. What really surprised me though, was that he was an excellent, accomplished dancer. He had an amazing sense of rhythm, putting in some impressive routines to rock and disco numbers; but when a slower ballad was played, he literally whisked me round the floor in his arms.
I’m not a great dancer, but he led me like a proper gentleman, his hand holding mine, his other on the small of my back, sending subtle signals. It felt effortless to follow his lead and it felt good when he pulled me close to him, the scent of his masculine aftershave filling my nostrils.
After some time, we went back to a table to rest a moment and get a drink.
“Would you like to get some air, Charlotte?” he asked, looking deep into my eyes.
“Yeah, that would be nice… it’s very warm and noisy in here!”
Picking up our drinks, we strolled outside to the patio area, the air pleasantly cooler. The cacophony of music was suddenly attenuated as the door closed behind us. We found a bench and sat down.
“Wow, that’s been quite an evening,” Ben remarked. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”
“Yes, it’s been good, but… I hope it’s not over yet,” I said quietly, looking up at him. I meant it. He seemed a really nice guy and my moistening slit was telling me that I wanted to get to know him a whole lot better.
Ben took the hint and kissed me, tenderly at first, then more forcefully and a moment later, his hand cupped one of my boobs in his hand, gently massaging it as our tongues intertwined. My nipples are very sensitive, and his touch was sending electric shocks down between my legs.