I never enjoyed my trips to Bentonville, Ark. It’s not much of a town. Nothing there … except the global headquarters for world’s largest retailer. As the stateside rep for the German architectural firm Wal-Mart had hired to do design work for some new stores in Russia, I had made a number of trips per year to Bentonville from my Chicago office. And so I was again last week. This one I was particularly dreading, however, as it would comprise several meetings over the course of an entire day – with the first meeting beginning at 7 a.m. – which had forced me to book a flight for the evening before, and stay a night in a hotel.

The evening flight to Bentonville from Chicago is a direct one, amazingly enough, but the plane is always small and uncomfortable. This particular flight, however, had one redeeming quality: a strikingly beautiful young woman of 29 or 30 with pouty lips, blue eyes, bronze skin and curly, bright red hair. Her unusual look might have come across poorly had it not been for her serious, intelligent expression coupled with what appeared to be a sexy body, built for sin.

I honestly didn’t know what to make of her. She was wearing a low-cut black dress made from a textured fabric that had a slight sheen. The hem was just at the knees. Her calves were enclosed in knee-high black stretch boots. It was an outfit that gave me pause: She was definitely dressed to kill, I thought, but was it business or pleasure?

She was seated in the front row. I was two rows back and I watched the back of her conspicuously colored head for much of the flight, wondering what kind of person she was. When we finally got to Bentonville, I walked behind her to the baggage claim area. She walked quickly and with authority, despite carrying a bulky garment bag. I would say she was about 5’5”and probably around 110 or 115 pounds, with a curvy – but very firm – body and a narrow waist. As we waited for our baggage, I found myself thinking about speaking to her. I finally made eye contact with her and smiled. She looked away. I took the opportunity to look at her more fully. Her face seemed exotic to me. Her breasts were at least C cups and her posture was immaculate. I decided to make a move. When my bag came out, I waited for the carousel to take it closer to her before going to retrieve it.

After removing my bag from the carousel, I naturally stepped next to her and brushed against her garment bag. I turned and made eye contact again.

I suppose I should admit at this point that, yes, despite the fact that I have a nice girlfriend at home in Chicago, I do occasionally make an effort to hook up with women while I’m on business trips. I’m not a horrible person – I just don’t see the harm in engaging in the occasional short-term, no-strings-attached sexual adventure. Plus, I honestly feel it makes me a more confident man. I’ve found that it’s not that hard to find the right woman. I’ve got a pleasant enough personality, and it doesn’t hurt that I’ve been blessed with good genetics and confidence about my sexual abilities. I’m about 6 feet tall, 195 pounds, lean but fairly muscular. My looks have helped me win friends fairly easily, I know, and I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve used this to my own advantage both personally and professionally. So I felt completely natural and confident in my decision to approach this interesting woman.

“Excuse me,” I said after a bumped her. Hmm. She didn’t acknowledge me. I tried again: “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, cocking her head to one side. There was a trace of an accent that sounded eastern European.

She took a deep breath and sighed with frustration. Her bag had obviously not yet appeared.

“Finally,” she said after a moment, and shifted her garment bag uncomfortably in order to more easily retrieve her suitcase.

“Would you like me to get that for you?” I asked. She gave me a piercing look that faded into bemusement.

“Thank you,” she said, finally. I took her suitcase off the carousel and asked if she was meeting anyone locally. She said she was on a business trip and would be meeting her partner in town. I told her about my own business with Wal-Mart.

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” she said with a chuckle, but with hardly the trace of a smile. “I suppose we’re both here for the same thing.”

“What do you mean?” I wondered.

“We’re both here to screw The Man,” a wry half-smile crossed her face.

It was an odd comment, but I chuckled.

I escorted her to the car rental area. On the way, I asked her what business she was in and she told me briefly (again, with a slight accent) that she was an “information broker.” She said nothing else – and I didn’t ask – but I thought it a rather cryptic statement.

At this point, I was already rather attracted to her. She was extremely attractive physically. She did seem a little cold, albeit, but that just made her more interesting to me – more of a challenge. Something about the way she carried herself, the confidence she exuded, her sexuality, her attitude … something made me want to be with her. I stole another glance or two at her lovely body. Her breasts bounced lightly as she walked. Her skin was smooth and she had a few freckles on her chest. I smiled to myself at the thought of conquering her.

At the rental desk, we had to wait in line. I asked where she was staying and we discovered that our hotels were next to each other. I made a joke about sharing a car, but she didn’t really laugh. She just kind of smirked. Then she suggested I use her discount card to get a better deal on my car. Again, I found myself totally intrigued.

We rented our cars and boarded the bus that would take us to the lot. I wanted to get her to talk to me. I decided to take a chance and ask about her accent.

She wasn’t annoyed at the question. That was good. “Can you guess?” she said.

I smiled. “My best guess would be Russian.”

“And that would also be the right guess,” she said, crossing her legs and shifting slightly to turn in my direction. “And what about your accent?”

She wore an amused expression that I couldn’t quite read.

“Mine?” I said. “Oh, it’s your standard midwestern American, I suppose.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “Are you my standard midwestern American?”

I chuckled. I could see now that she was smart and was playing a little game with me.

“I’d like to think I meet and exceed the standard, actually,” I said, looking straight at her.

She held my gaze for a moment and then allowed a smile to escape.

“Well, if you do, then it will be a pleasure to have met you,” she said finally. “My name is Anna.”

“I’m Tyler,” I said. “And I’m already pleased to have met you.”

She smiled for the first time and, after that, things came much more easily and we settled into a more natural conversation. She told me she had been born in St. Petersburg, Russia, but had moved to Canada with her family when she was 15. After college she had moved back to Russia to work for a Canadian multinational company but had recently been promoted to her current job and moved back to Toronto. She spoke English, French, Russian, with some German and some Arabic. She had studied international law and business, but her degree was in Philosophy. I was impressed and, for the first time in a long time, maybe a little intimidated – which made me want her all the more.

Indeed, the more we talked, the more interested I became. She was smart, worldly, and sexy as hell. The flash of red hair was perfect for her. It was a declaration: “I am not an ordinary woman.” And she certainly was not.

Our cars were in the same area, so we both got off the bus at the same place. We got to her car first. She got in and, as she did, the low neck of her dress fell open and I caught a glimpse of her full, round breasts supported by a lacey black bra. I took a deep breath. I was definitely going to go for it.

We drove our cars to the hotels. She was staying in the nicest one in the area. I knew it well, but I had never stayed there. My company would never pay for something so nice. I knew from experience that it had a great bar, though, and each room had floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a classy place.

I followed her as she pulled in to the driveway. When she got out, I asked her if she needed anything.

“Not particularly,” she said.

“Well, I feel like I owe you for the discount on the rental.”

“Tyler, it was my pleasure,” she insisted. She paused as if in thought, and then added, “If you’d like, you can pay me back in my hotel’s restaurant in one hour.”

With that she smiled and walked in to the hotel. Yes! I was in!

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