Doing Business

Content Advisor: m/f scene containing masturbation

She scans the hotel lounge with a practiced eye, searching for a likely candidate. She spots him at the bar. Sipping from a short glass of a caramel colored drink on the rocks. He appears to be inspecting each person in the room with the same exactitude and thoroughness she is. Eventually his gaze falls on her. With a small lift of her, she starts walking toward him. The elegantly dressed woman stops right in front of him and tips her head to the side.

“Do you fuck well?” she asks.

She knows that as far as small talk goes, this is a fairly confronting first question. But her gut instinct tells her that he’ll not be frightened by her boldness. No, he’ll be intrigued. She knows his sort. By the expensive cut of his suit and the waft of his understated cologne she knows that he’ll play the game. He’ll broker a deal.

Tonight she’ll meet her sexual requirements in the same cutthroat way she manages her business ventures. Without preamble or procrastination. She will be ruthless in what she wants and takes.

His only visible reaction to her question is a slight dilation of pupils. Yes she thinks. I gotta live one.

“A very direct approach, Madam. Do you find it works well for you?” His voice is low against the background hum of the banter in the hotel bar.

“I find,” she replies “that I hate wasting time. Cut to the chase, that’s my motto – no bullshit, no beating around the bush. I don’t want drinks or dinner or all of the tedious conversation before the main event. So, I ask you again – Do you fuck well?”

His steely grey gaze locks with hers. He takes a deep breath and leans toward her.

“Yes. Exceedingly well. I think you’ll find that I’ll be a very profitable investment of your time and energy.” Aha she thinks, a clever one here. Let the games begin.

“Perhaps I should be the judge of what may or may not be profitable. Are you able to prove it?” The ghost of a smile touches her glossed lips.

“Unfortunately, I neglected to bring written references with me on this trip but I’m more than happy to give you a working demonstration of my capabilities.”

“A working demonstration? What would that involve?” This time she cannot hold back the smile, nor can she prevent the jump in her pulse. The thrill is always in the chase.

“Madam, I have a couple of axioms that best describe my own business ethics.” He pauses for a moment, making sure again his eyes are locked with hers. She snorts impatiently.

“And they are?”

“The first is,” he draws out slowly, “satisfaction guaranteed.”

Her own pupils dilate as he utters those words and she can feel the silk of her panties dampening.

“And the second?”

“How about I prove the first to see if I’m worthy of telling you the second?”

Oh – he’s good!

“Satisfaction guaranteed? Well, it appears that you can talk the talk my friend. Let’s find out if you can walk the walk.” She turns and heads for the lobby without a backward glance. She knows he will follow her.

He throws a twenty on the bar and strides after her. Her heels tap a rhythmic beat across the tiled lobby floor toward the elevator but stutter as he moves behind her, one hand on her elbow, the other in the small of her back, guiding her to the stairwell. She glances up at him, her gaze enquiring.

“My presentation, Madam – therefore I choose the venue.” He opens the door and the cooler air of the stairwell rushes over them. His hand still at her back he guides her under the staircase into the gloom underneath.

“Here?” Her tone sounds doubtful.

“The most entrepreneurial of deeds are usually accomplished away from the board room.” In the semi-dark of stairwell, his eyes were inscrutable but she could make out the gleam of teeth in a wolfish grin. For a moment she feels a prickle of doubt.

“Put your hands behind your head.” His voice echoes around the enclosed space.

She frowns. She does not like commands. He can see her irritation in the belligerent way she lifts up her arms and puts her hands where he has asked.

“Satisfaction guaranteed,” she hisses at him, her eyes narrow and glittering. “I must say I’m not impressed with the demonstration so far, Sir.” He chuckles and leans in closer. The cold of the bricks seeps through her clothes. Her breasts push up against his chest. She can feel the heat of his arousal as it juts into her stomach. She breathes faster, more shallow.

“One hundred percent guaranteed, Madam,” he murmurs into her ear. “You don’t get better odds than that. I beg just a little patience.”

“I’d rather you just beg,” she says, her teeth gritted. He chuckles again.

“Keep your arms where they are and close your eyes.” Grudgingly she closes them and waits. His bodyweight moves away and she shivers. She can hear his breathing, controlled and measured. She starts when she feels his palms cupping her breasts, held high by her bra and the positioning of her arms. Her nipples pebble in response and nimble fingers pinch and roll the peaks through her blouse. She sighs her discontent as all too soon he smoothes his hands down her torso and over her waist.

His hands stray lower still, down over her hips and then his fingers dig deep into the fleshy globes of her ass. She feels the tension growing deep in her belly and her hips undulate, urging him on. Lower go the hands until they reach the hem of her skirt. There is a rustle of linen and she gasps as she finally feels flesh on flesh. His calloused hands chafing her outer thighs, skimming higher and higher until the skirt is bunched up around her waist. Laying her bare to the chill air of the stairwell and to his heated gaze.

She swallows. The submissive position he has put her in and the knowledge that anyone could walk in on them arouses her. His heated breath pushes against the silk of her panties before he inhales the scent of her arousal. His tongue toys with her through the moistened fabric, sliding up and down the seam of her sex. She cannot help herself. Her hands drop to grasp his head, pulling him close, grinding her pelvis hard against his face. She is vaguely aware of the tearing of fabric as he rips her panties from her. A thick finger slides into the heat of her body. The glorious friction builds while it moves in and out. A second digit stretches her, teasing. Then a third fills her slick passage, tormenting her with the combined thickness.

He adjusts to stand beside her, lowering his lips close to her ear. "I want to make you come," his fingers dance within her while he whispers, "again and again."

He coos impossible things to her, improbable sentences with words and deeds that should shock and scandalize. Instead they inflame and incite the most base of her instincts into a maelstrom of need. Her breath quickens. Her hips rock back and forth. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, drawing blood, as she tries to quell the urge to moan.

Still his wicked fingers keep working their magic between her thighs. Higher and deeper, stroking and thrusting. Devoid of mercy, relentless in their mission.

His thumb changes course to slide up through her slick folds and rubs firm circles around her most sensitive spot, whilst his coated fingers plunge harder and faster.

Her climax comes hits hard and fast—the moaning she tried to suppress bounces off the walls and echoes in the small confines of the stairwell. The strength of her release forces the breath from her lungs. Her body spasms around the fingers held deep within in her.

Through a pleasure filled haze, she hears him whispering his sordid, dirty words and despite herself, she feels a build up start again. She rides his hand desperately, until she shatters a second time and her knees buckle under a tidal wave of sensation. His arms come around her instantly, an anchor, holding her until the storm subsides.

Once she regains her faculties, she pulls her skirt down over her hips and looks him straight in the eye. “Well delivered, Sir," her voice betrays her with a slight tremble, "I declare myself well satisfied. Mean what you say and say what you mean. I like your style.”

He inclines his head by way thanks and smiles at her. “If you’d care to lead the way to your room, Madam, I think I’ve earned the right to tell you the other business motto I find very lucrative.”

“You certainly have," a wry smile on her contented face. “What motto could possibly be better than ‘satisfaction guaranteed’?”

“I make certain that I always under promise and over deliver.”

Her breath hitches. Oh yes, this one knows how to wheel and deal!

“Best you follow me then.” And with a clatter of heels she turns and heads for the lobby elevator.

*********

If you enjoyed this short story, then look for my next one on November 8, 2010.  Hotels are such rich pickings for sexy stories that I am sure I can find another guest or two (or three perhaps?!) to lay themselves bare for you…

Copyright © 2010 Greta Goddard

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.