"I've always considered the sensation of flowing waters to be both delightfully relaxing and deeply sensual," the soft baritone voice whispered into her ear.

She turned with a jerk to see who had spoken to her.

Afterall, she knew no one in Seattle. After a day of fighting cancelled flights and closed airports, she had finally accepted the truth that this would be another empty night on the road while waiting on a flight home in the morning. So, there she was in a hotel lobby without her luggage. There she was, alone and bored, and standing on the wooden bridge over the rippling waters of the man-made creek that bisected the hotel's atrium lobby. In front of her the koi circles in the pond at the base of the waterfall that rushed downward from the balcony to start the stream.

Beside her, though, the presumed owner of the voice leaned on his crossed forearms atop the rail.

He was nothing really remarkable... just your basic middle-aged male... previously brown hair now streaked with silver at the temples and a shimmer of still more silver in his light mustache and trimmed beard... a flicker of steel blue from his eyes.

"Did you say something to me," she asked?

He might have been startled by her question, but he didn't seem to be as he turned slowly to smile at her. "Not particularly," he said, "I suppose I was just daydreaming."

"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt, then."

"It is true, though...flowing waters have the power to be both relaxing and deeply sensual at the same time."

Surely he didn't mean....

No, that would be just too far beyond belief. Here she had stood pondering the boring state of her life, only to find her own thoughts spoken by this man with the dancing blue eyes. He couldn't possibly know what thoughts were flooding through her mind, could he? He couldn't possibly know the emptiness that described her life at this moment, nor could he know about her hidden love for that sensual power of which he spoke. Why, even her husband completely ignored or refused any of her thoughts about either the red bag she kept hanging behind the bathroom door or any whispered pleas about her neglected anus.

Still, one never knows what gifts one might find, so when he suggested that stranded fellow travelers should at least offer each other company over dinner she quickly accepted and rushed upstairs to drop her overnight bag in the room before meeting him in the lobby bar alongside those dancing waters.

(I wonder what they might do with an evening of escape.... Any takers?)

She looked up from the small table next to the waterfall to see him slowly striding down the stairs from the mezzanine. Again, she felt an unbidden warmth rush over her... the forbidden stirrings of what might be. Here, she was, stuck in a strange city, yet as his eyes met hers and he smiled, this stranger seemed somehow familiar. Without any reason that she could fathom, she just felt comfortable. She waved him toward her table and watched him approach with a confident stride.

"Ahh, still enjoying the bubbling waters I see," he remarked with a wink toward the waterfall.

She felt the heat of a blush as her face betrayed her.

They enjoyed a half hour of small talk as they sipped their drinks. He was a perfect gentleman and yet she felt a deeper chemistry simmering just beneath their easy conversation.

Finally her curiosity and daring overcame her reticence. "You said someting earlier about flowing waters being sensual," she asked. "What did you mean by that?"

"Well, we can either let you sit here all evening wondering what might be, or you can accept the gift of this evening apart from reality and tell me what you would REALLY desire to feel from those waters," he gently intoned.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"And if I wanted to feel the rushing waters someplace special?"

"I already made a trip across the street to pick up a few things we might need from the drug store."

The immediate blush she felt left her trapped between feeling offended that he might be so forward and aching to answer the throbbing pulse threatened to either flood the chair or bounce her off of it. She was suddenly more aroused than she had been in years and in serious danger of soaking the khaki fabric of her slacks.

The yearning won out as she took his hand. "Then I suggest we skip dinner and see what wonders you've got prepared," she gasped as tugged him to his feet and toward the elevators.

They managed to hold onto dignity through the ride to the fourth floor and until the door of his room latched behind them, but then she fell into his arms as tears streaked her face. "I don't even know you," she said, "but tonight I need you. Take me, please." In a flurry of scattered clothing they were soon naked in the dim light and exploring each other's bodies naked upon the rumpled bedclothes. Though the curves of mid-life had descended just a bit upon each, they were not disappointed. A twenty-something's airbrushed body was not on the agenda, but rather raw passion and release. Soon enough his fingertips had teased her to a ripened glow and it was his turn to take her hand and lead... "Little one, I believe it's time to see to your desires for those flowing waters."

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the bath. The storm had left the hotel overcrowded, so his room was an "accessible suite." In place of the tub was an oversized shower with a hose and wand for a showerhead. Ushering her into the shower he set the warm spray to a pulsating pattern and played its ripples over every curve. Picking up the translucent amber bar of glycerine soap he softly massaged the suds over body and deep between her hips. Dropping to his knees he finished rinsing her silken lower curls with his lips and tongue, teasing deep between to tickle and suckle the tiny bud growing between them. Then swirling her around he leaned her outstretched hands against the wall and spread pressed his lips to her hips, spreading them and exploring the valley between with his talented tongue, circling the throbbing rosebud he found therein and darting deep within it. When her legs threatened to give way he rose to his feet, and reached to the soap tray another time.

From it he picked up another amber object. "Little one, I've prepared another bar of soap as well." Rolling between his fingertips was a carved fingertip of the glycerine soap... as long and full as his index finger. Drawing her into his arms he kissed her forehead, then reached behind to part her buttocks and glide the tip of the soap across her pulsing anus. Pressing its slick tip against the center of her bud, he glided it inside her, his finger following to nestle it inside her rectum.

"There, now, that should begin to warm you for the swirling waters."

Enfolding her in a towel he dried her and led her to the bed. With each footstep she felt the small invader move inside her, a building slow warmth beginning to burn in her ass.

Snuggling her onto her tummy with her bare hips in the air he picked up a wooden hairbrush from the nightstand and began to gently brush her hair as he sat beside her, his free hand softly tracing up and down her thighs.

The swelling damp engorgement of her labia prompted her to spread her legs for his touch. His fingertips ever so slightly changed their path to brush lightly across the tender curves of her lower lips at the peak of their stroke, strumming her passions as if upon the strings of a fine violin, drawing the faint moans of contentment to her lips.

"No need to rush, Little One, just relax and let the waves lift you, floating on their gentle tides."

She drifted ever closer to relaxation in spite of the relentless heat spreading in her anus.

(need we say more?)

(I suppose we'd better get that soap out of her.)

Through the gentle warmth of her arousal she began to feel the more intense burning deep in her anus and the pressure to release.

"Let's help you a bit, little one."

She moaned as his fingers parted her hips and sighed as he began to swirl the cool lubricant around her swelling anus. The chill brought it to a quivering throb. Then the slow stretching as his fingertip pressed inward, swirling over the inner ring.

He reached to the table and returned with a softer and smaller stretching into her rosebud... pressed deep, then the surge as a jet of cool water sprayed from the little bulb, cooling the burning inside her. The soft tip removed...a moments hesitation... and then pressed again and another jet of water surged higher inside.

Three... four... five... and then a sixth bulb... as she fought the sensations between the heat of her engorged labia and the need to release the swelling in her belly.

"There now, Little One. That's not quite a quart. We'll let you go in just a bit."

Setting the bulb aside he began to stroke his fingertips softly up the length of her rosy lower lips, then parted them to let a single fingertip plumb the wet valley between. His movements paused at the portal of her now flowing well and dipped full length inside, curling to the front to ripple over the ripe plum of her swollen g-spot.

She arched her back at the touch and began to rock her pelvis, guiding his hand with her movements as she rode the first wave of orgasm.

He pressed a fingertip of his free hand flat atop her taut and throbbing anal ring to help her hold the swirling waters as her spasms subsided.

When all was still he reached for her hand to help her to her feet and guide her to the toilet. "Now, Little One... let's give you a chance to relax and get all cleaned out."

Closing the door behind him, he left her to the welcome release.

(I wonder what "round 2" might bring.)