“Open All the Way” marks Sadie Smythe’s foray into long-range storytelling. Most well known for her outspoken commentary on her blog –about relationship paradigms and the navigation through her own alternative arrangement with her husband Scott– Sadie is now able to offer her loyal listeners a larger-lensed view into her openly married life.
Each chapter of “Open All the Wa”y is an individual story in itself. But the combined ensemble compellingly chronicles her journey. Sadie, in her straightforward style, discusses openly and honestly the numerous pitfalls she and her husband encountered along the way while intellectually and entertainingly supporting her choices. It’s sexy, smart, and provocative prose; a full, fascinating glimpse into an non-traditional relationship.
Connor’s response to my ad proved propitious; I picked him out of a cyber-sea of men. After chatting and getting to know him a little better, I decided that playing Mrs. Robinson to his Benjamin Braddock sounded like it could be fun.
We decided to meet one Thursday afternoon at a hotel mid-way between our houses, which was about an hour drive for each of us. I picked the Hilton. In the small handful of times I went to hotels, I would go to the Hilton because of their “Day Use” rates. And their Guest Service Agents never gave me the once-over when I’d ask if they had any rooms available for the day—and only the day. Instead, they would simply (and hastily) peer into their computer screen and locate a room that they immediately had clean and available. And, they charged about one-third less than if I were staying overnight. Plus, the Hilton is the only place where I have ever seen someone else in my situation: a cute but sexy thirty-something woman heading up to her room in the late morning, room key and check-in papers in hand while nervously fingering her purse. No luggage in sight. Day User. More power to her.
I’m not certain of this of course, but I wanted to think that she was just like me: there to meet someone for carnal, covetous, clandestine sex on a seemingly random weekday afternoon. Hotel sex in itself is pretty pleasurable. Add to that the elements of being with a partner you don’t see very often—or have never seen—the surreptitious and subversive sneakiness of meeting at a hotel, and the hunger that builds in anticipation? That’s a formula for a fabulous, frenetic frolic.
I knew, going into my meeting with Connor, the excitement that I would feel at meeting him was going to be a different type of excitement. The scenario was altogether different.
I showed up a few minutes late. Connor was sitting at the bar in the hotel’s restaurant. I had called his cell and asked him to order me a vodka tonic. It was sitting there on the bar when I arrived. I gave Connor a quick hug and picked up my drink, gulping it fully before I even sat down. My hands were shaking. I was absolutely terrified. My mission that afternoon was to make a man out of a boy. And the magnitude of that mission was overwhelming, to say the least.
Connor was as cool as a cucumber. He sort of slumped over the granite bar, all 6 feet 5 inches of him, and he watched me as I attempted to contain myself. I ordered another drink and slammed it directly. We chatted for a couple of minutes. I was still really nervous, so I ordered one last drink. This one I carried with me to the front desk where I checked in, still shaking, as I grabbed the room card from the clerk. We made our way to the elevator as I clutched my drink in one hand and nervously fingered my purse with the other. We stepped inside the elevator. The doors closed. I closed my eyes.
What The Fucking Fuck Was I Thinking?
I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Our room was on the 16th floor, so I had some time to ponder the answer to this question as the elevator crept slowly toward our destination. I looked at Connor. He was so tall, taller than any man I’d been with. I am only 5’4”, so he towered over me. He was thin and youthful. He was only 21, and I was 37. Before our meeting, the sixteen-year age difference between us had not disturbed me in the slightest. But for some reason, it suddenly felt consequential— and slightly perverse.
I peered at the emergency stop button on the elevator’s control panel, and I silently wished that I might be able to push it from where I stood in the corner using visceral, telepathic will. Because where I had previously looked upon this encounter with Connor as a fun, adventurous experience, it had, for some unknown reason, all quite suddenly shifted. My expectations merged into feelings of obligation for this boy I barely knew. Into feelings of responsibility. And of burden. FUCK!
I looked up at Connor as the elevator came to a stop. He smiled down upon me. A boyish smile. A happy smile. An I’m-gonna-get-laid-finally smile. The doors opened and a hint of terror swept across his youthfully- innocent face. But it was fleeting. And I realized that he and I were both in this together. Bearing witness to his fear was just what I needed to shift my attitude back towards the feeling of excitement; away from that of duty and perversion. And I answered my own, earlier question.
I was thinking that this is going to be an adventure. And it will be, Sadie. Press on! I affected my most seductive Mrs. Robinson smirk and walked us toward our room. Toward Connor’s deflowering.
We had agreed that this wouldn’t be a teacher/student scenario in the sense of an instructional tutorial. Connor had watched enough porn that he was versed in the mechanics of the sex act. And he was also fully aware that sexual confidence comes with experience. That was, after all, why we were there: to get him at least a smidgen of experience under his proverbial belt. I had directed Connor to masturbate the night before and the morning of our meeting. I asked him if he did as instructed.
Yes, Sadie. I did what you told me to do. Are you happy?
Yes, I was. I had carved out time on a Sunday afternoon, driven an hour, and paid for a hotel room. All for the experience of fucking a chaste man. I certainly didn’t need him coming straight away and spoiling it for us both.
He got undressed. As he did, I finished my drink in one last, long gulp. He stretched out along the bed wearing only his boxers. He was so tall and so thin. His feet dangled off the end of the bed, a giant virgin awaiting his foray into manhood on an undersized bunk. I giggled.
Finally, I realized, the three drinks kicked in. My body was no longer trembling. I was ready to play.
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