Dinner fantasy

We are meeting at the conference hotel.
Last time you saw me, my marriage was ending.
"You'll have lots of fun,"you said. "You're a terrific person and will have the freedom to enjoy yourself. I bet you'll go out with other guys."
I sat at the table with you and realized I wanted to reach under the cloth, unzip your pants, and stroke and fondle your cock.
Now it is 4 months later. I live alone and I am single.
Before our meeting, I run out to the stores by the hotel, trying to buy hot new lingerie.
I imagine our dinner turning into something more, a night in my hotel room, in my hotel bed, where I unzip your pants and make you stand by the bed as I kneel down in lace lingerie and heels and tell you I have to suck your cock, and what a slut I've become, by the way.
As I get dressed tonight, I wonder if I have the nerve to express any of this, and what you might feel.
My tight sweater shows off my breasts, and I am wearing a skirt, not pants, all the better for your hands to drift beneath, should the opportunity arise.
Perhaps we will drink wine and kiss, our mouths drifting together like smoke, our hands reaching for one anothers' knees, touching the soft bits on the inner thigh.
Perhaps we will spend time together in bed after sex, spooning in the dark until you reach for me and want to come again before you go back to your own hotel room.
I imagine us lovers, meeting around the world for dinner, talk and sex.
I magine how think and long your cock is, and how good it would feel in my mouth.
I imagine your joy at how sexual and expressive and kinky I am compared to your wife.
And how happy we are with the fun we have.

90 minutes later we are standing together, chatting. You tell me your wife is coming to join you at the conference, and we're all going to have dinner together.
You say things are terrible between you and you're trying but it may just not work.
"I want to get to know you a lot better," you say to me. "Not only professionally, but on a personal level."
"I would like that," I reply demurely, aware that what you really mean is I want to fuck your brains out. Aware you are too honorable to say that--or do it--right now.
I am incredibly disappointed at losing the chance to have you all to myself, but I can afford to wait.

I have dinner with you and your wife.
I pretend I am still married and never mention the pending divorce.
We now have a secret between us your wife does not know--that we talk in a way that excludes her, and I realize that if your marriage blows up, you may be at my door.