Anita's Menage by Vee Michaels

Anita’s Ménage
    After manning the YouDoIt Software booth at the conference for five days, Anita’s feet, stuffed into a pair of stilettos, had blisters and the balls felt as if glass were embedded in them. She leaned on the counter to take the pressure off as she watched her co-worker, Jason, chat with a straggling conference attendee. Ten years younger than her and a competitive body builder, Jason’s muscles rippled with every movement. A full-blooded Italian, his dark hair, dark eyes, and inky lashes, gave him an exotic air.
    Anita sighed.
    It had been over a year since she had been with a man. As the only woman on the four-person, marketing team, her fantasies had been running on overdrive: especially when the other three were Jason, Paul, and Armando. To make matters worse, the batteries in her trusty companion had died that morning leaving her in an unsatisfied state.
    Someone touched her shoulder, and Anita jumped.
    â€œDaydreaming again?” Paul, the oldest member of the crew, asked.
    Over a foot taller than her, Paul had broad shoulders and wore a crew cut, a habit seemingly held over from his military career. His imposing personality and body called for someone to tame it. She’d dreamt of turning him to mush, but in her imagination was where that needed to stay. His aftershave, something expensive, reminded Anita of a walk in the woods. His closeness had her rattled. Luckily, they’d be flying home the following afternoon.
    Anita stepped back sending a shard of pain through one foot. “Glad it’s the last day of the conference. How are you holding up?” Anita asked.
    â€œReady to head home. Hey, a couple of us are going to my room for a beer tonight. You’re welcome to come along. Room 3215.”
    With her imagination running amuck, Anita had avoided work get-togethers all week. But having spent the last four nights alone in her hotel room, she wanted something different. Reminding herself they were co-workers and professionals, she said, “Thanks. I’ll consider it.”
    Paul squeezed her shoulder. “You should relax, you’re tense.” He moved behind her and kneaded her thick muscles. Anita wanted to lean into him, to have those hands roam her body. Instead, she sat stiffly. When he hit a knot, she winced. “Hit a sore spot. Sorry.”
    â€œFeels good. Sort of.” Not comfortable with the thoughts his touch provoked, she edged out of his reach then straightened a pile of brochures on the counter.
    Anita glanced toward Jason as he reached out and shook the conference attendee’s hand. Of all the men, she was closest to Jason, and Anita decided if he planned to go for a beer, she would go too.
    Jason turned and caught her watching. He raised his eyebrows then smiled.
    â€œArmando and I are heading to my room,” Paul told Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”
    â€œLet me enter this info in my iPhone and I’ll be right up.”
    â€œSee you in a few.” Armando gave Jason a two-finger salute then looked at Anita. Half African-American, half Asian, Armando had a caramel complexion, curly black hair pulled into a ponytail, almond-shaped eyes, and full lips. “You planning to come?”
    When their eyes met, a vision of him making love to her skittered across her mental theater. Planning to come indeed, Anita mentally slapped herself for the thought, she really needed to get out. With her crotch tingling, she hoped her thoughts weren’t playing out on her face. Maybe going to Paul’s wasn’t such a good idea. “I’m not sure.” After Paul and Armando left, Anita gathered her purse.
    â€œI bet your feet are killing you,” Jason said.
    Anita exhaled then inspected her four-inch, patent leather, black pumps and wished she were less vain. “How’d you know?”
    â€œI’ve got three sisters.” He pointed at her shoes. “They call those