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I sat my bag and laptop on the dresser, not bothering to even look around the room. All hotel rooms are pretty much the same anymore. This was a ‘King Single' in hotel lingo - a king sized bed with a night table on each side, one with a lamp and phone and the other with a clock radio. A small round table with a single chair was next to a floor length window, the curtains pulled to one side with a lamp standing on the other side. When I went to check the view I discovered that from the thirty-third floor I could mainly see another hotel across the street. If I craned my neck I could catch a narrow strip of the lake. By pressing my face to the glass and looking down I could make out Michigan Avenue - the Miracle Mile - below me. From here Chicago looked pretty much like New York or Houston or Seattle.

I wasn't really excited about the conference I was attending. Even though it was a good opportunity to make professional contacts I would probably have skipped it except they'd asked me to be on the panel at a workshop the first morning. After my long trip I felt exhausted and looked longingly at the bed, but told myself sternly "No." I was to attend a opening dinner in just an hour, so instead of a nap I stripped and took a quick shower. A wicked thought passed through my mind as I was drying myself. I considered, just for a second, going commando to add some spice to the event. Of course I'm too conventional to actually do it, but sometimes I get this urge to be more daring - to do something to show there's a sensual woman inside this corporate drudge. But as usual I hid that woman away again. I put on my bra and white ...

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