PARKER27.TXT
TRADE RELATIONS
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves sexual acts between adults of a
more or less consensual nature. If this offends you, then
read no further. Consider yourself warned.
Copyright 1996 by Parker. Feel free to distribute as you will,
but please don't alter the text.
=================================================================
"How long have we been at it?"
Megan stifled a yawn as she checked her watch: one o'clock in the morning.
"Almost twelve hours," she answered tiredly. Brushing back a rebellious strand
of dark blonde hair, she looked over at the man sitting across from her at the
table as he carefully separated copies of documents and slipped them into his
leather briefcase.
Nice eyes, she decided, for about the hundredth time since they'd started
negotiations six months ago on behalf of their respective clients. Definitely
nice eyes.
"At least we've made some progress," she told him, smiling. "I think the
draft agreements and all the due diligence are pretty much in place. There's
not much more we can do at our end."
The man smirked. "Yeah. As if Tokyo's going to do anything about it."
Megan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You know the story," the man shrugged as he got to his feet. "They'll get
the deal in place and ready to go and then hold off forever. It's just
business. And this time they've got a reason to be concerned. I do know my
client is worried about the latest protectionist bill before Congress. They
feel the U.S. isn't interested in doing business."
"Perfect." Megan got to her feet and pulled her jacket on over her
shoulders. "And six months of work down the drain. Just perfect." Briefcases in
hand, the two lawyers walked out of the boardroom and through the empty office
towards the elevators.
"Not to mention," the man said, continuing the thought as he pushed the
elevator call button, "another Saturday night wasted at the office. I'm getting
too old for this."
"Too senior, more likely."
They laughed.
After a few seconds, the doors slid open and they walked inside. Megan
pushed the button for the lobby. The man glanced over at her as the elevator
descended. "Feel like a drink?" Megan couldn't help but smile at the offer. It
had been months since she'd gone out on anything even resembling a date... not
since she'd broken up with Steve.
And he *did* have nice eyes.
"Sure," she answered. "I can use one."
The man smiled.
But that's it, she told herself firmly. Just one drink then she was on her
way home.
Just one drink.
No more...
"Oh... god..."
Megan smiles as best she can with her nose buried in the man's crotch. She
loves this... the soft, velvety feel of the man's cock as it slides over her
tongue, across the roof of her mouth and down into her throat; the taste of his
pre-come on her lips; the feeling of total power as she draws him ever closer
to the precipice of orgasm and then backs away.
It's been too long!
Letting out a quiet moan, she drops one hand from the man's naked thigh
and slips it down under her skirt to her throbbing pussy as her tongue flicks
at the base of his cock.
"Ohh..."
Too much!
Quickly, she pulls her face back and holds still for a moment, feeling the
man's cock twitching impatiently against the roof of her mouth.
"C'mon babe..." the man moans. "Don't stop."
Megan smiles again. She slips her hand in under her panties and starts to
rub her pussy, sliding her fingers along her clit, as her lover unwillingly
drifts slowly back from the brink of an orgasm. After a few seconds, she begins
to swirl her tongue around the man's engorged penis, once again revelling in
the taste and feel and power of it...
Bringing him ever closer...
It's time.
Grinning, Megan slides her mouth off the man's cock and climbs to her
feet. He just stares at her, breathing heavily, with his back against the wall.
His pants are down around his ankles and his cock, rigid and glistening and
bobbing in the dim bedroom light, stands at attention.
"Oh babe..."
She stares at him for a moment, her green eyes, bright and shining through
a curtain of tousled blonde hair. He stands, panting hoarsely, watching as she
pulls her conservative, grey business skirt up to her slender waist, revealing
long, lithe legs, and then... too slowly... slides her panties down to ankles.
Kicking the panties away, she pulls open the top of her white blouse and slips
out of her bra, allowing her breasts, large and firm, to slip free.
"Megan..."
Silently, she stalks forward and throws her arms around his neck. He
resists and then melts as she pulls his face down to hers for a long,
passionate kiss. He is panting by the time she breaks away. One hand drops to
pull up the skirt. Taking short, shallow breaths, she pants: "Fuck me, Richard.
Now!"
He doesn't need to be told twice.
Reaching down, he puts his hands under her ass and pulls her up. With a
quiet gasp, she wraps her long legs around behind the small of his thighs and
lowers herself down, slowly impaling herself on his rigid cock.
"Uh..."
Straining, Richard turns so that she is propped up against the wall,
taking some of her weight off his back. Megan giggles and shifts forward,
sliding her breasts against his chest... rubbing her sensitive nipples along
his skin. "What's the matter, Richard? Too heavy for you?" She leans forward
and runs a mocking tongue along his lips. Richard just grunts and begins to
thrust against her, pushing her back against wall. Megan laughs and uses her
legs to pull him further, tighter, deeper inside her... riding him as he grunts
and heaves and bucks beneath... bucking, straining...
"Oh!"
Megan lets out a quiet cry and begins to bounce wildly against Richard,
straining to achieve that final desperate ounce of friction. He opens his
mouth, gasping with effort and then moaning as she fastens her lips against his
and sucks frantically at his tongue.
"Mmmmm...."
She bites down as she comes.
On his tongue.
The sudden pain spurs him on to greater efforts, as he thrust and bucks
and heaves until he too comes, leaning her sweaty body back into the wall and
holding himself deep within her as the feel of the warm, thick cum shooting
into her sends the blonde woman into a second, spiralling orgasm, her feet
still locked into the small of his back.
Richard sags, and her feet drop to the floor.
Megan giggles and laps at a spot of blood on his lip, enjoying the feel of
his softening penis as it slides out of her...
*****
"Hello Richard. I've got you on the speaker phone. My associate Megan
Thompson is with me."
"Hi Bill."
Richard's voice sounded metallic and distant in the speaker phone.
"Megan."
The blonde woman pursed her lips and looked away. In the week since she'd
had sex with Richard, he'd called her four times, bothering her until she'd
finally told him that she wasn't interested in seeing him again. It had been
fun, but it was only a one-time thing. He'd become quite angry at this and
things had been tense between them ever since.
Men!
"Good news," Richard continued after a brief moment of silence. "We've
just got the word from Tokyo; it looks like the deal is going to happen."
William Traddler, one of the senior partners in the firm, looked over at Megan,
his eyebrows raised in surprise. The blonde woman, equally surprised, smiled
and shrugged. After Richard's pessimistic description of his client's
intentions, they had been expecting the worst.
"I don't mind telling you," Traddler said, "that comes as a bit of a
surprise. You gave us the impression that your client was having doubts."
"That's what I thought," came the answer. "But we just got word today.
It's probably going ahead."
Megan spoke up: "Probably?"
There was a brief moment of silence. Megan imagined Richard nodding
stupidly at the phone.
"That's right. It's not certain yet. They want to meet directly with
someone from your firm to work out a couple of points... in Tokyo."
"Tokyo?"
"Uh huh. It's the big man himself, Mr. Hikaru. He wants to meet with Ms.
Thompson. Next week, if possible."
Traddler looked over at Megan, impressed. "I'm sure," he said, smiling,
"that something can be arranged."
*****
Megan stared at the outfits hanging in the hotel closet, shaking her head.
It was all business attire... conservative skirts, slacks and jackets. Nothing
even remotely suitable for a formal reception. Sighing, she ran a nervous hand
through her thick, blonde hair. After the flight and the long, disorienting
limousine ride through the Tokyo traffic, all she wanted to do was collapse
into bed. How could she possibly have anticipated that her host would insist
upon a formal reception their first night in Tokyo?
"I told you there'd be some kind of reception as soon as we arrived. You
shouldn't be surprised. *I* brought a formal suit." Frowning, the blonde woman
looked over at the speaker. It was Jim Barnes, a junior at the firm. She hadn't
been happy about bringing him - she thought he was a snotty little brown noser
- but his father had been a cultural attache in Tokyo and Barnes had spent
several years in Japan as a teenager. If nothing else, Megan had to admit that
his fluent Japanese would come in useful.
If only he weren't such an arrogant little twerp!
"And you can wear your formal suit in your room, Barnes," she told him.
"I'm here to do the 'face to face' with the negotiators. You're going to spend
the night reviewing the amendments and compiling a final document for the
meeting tomorrow morning."
The young man blanched. "But I...".
"Barnes..."
"It'll take all night! I thought we were going to...".
Megan smirked. "If that's how long it takes, that's how long it takes.
Just be thankful for the jet lag; pulling an 'all nighter' should be a breeze.
Specially for a young go-getter like yourself." The young lawyer opened his
mouth to complain but then thought better of it. Frowning, he turned and
stalked out of the room. The blonde woman smiled at his retreating back and
then turned her attention back to her own problems.
What to wear...
Mr. Hikaru directed a comment towards her from his position beside her at
the table and looked at her expectantly, a tiny smile on his narrow face. The
young woman they'd assigned to translate for her said something in a quiet
voice, but Megan couldn't hear it in the buzz of the conversation. Uncertain,
Megan smiled back at him and tried to nod in a manner that conveyed as little
as possible. Mr. Hikaru's smiled widened and he made a comment to the man
sitting at his right.
The man laughed.
The blonde woman sighed and fought to keep the smile on her face as she
raised her cup and sipped at the saki. The whole evening had been going this
way.
Mr. Hikaru had turned out to be a short, slender man with a narrow,
thin-lipped face. From the grey at his temples, she pegged him to be in his
mid-50's, although she'd heard that he was older than that.
Much older.
When her host, who himself seemed to know only a few words of english, had
discovered that she did not have a translator with her, he had provided one of
his own employees to fulfil that role for her. The translator was an anaemic
looking young woman who, although she might have been perfectly fluent in
english, was so soft spoken that Megan had not been able to make out a word
she'd said the entire night. As a result, she had spent the evening sitting at
Mr. Hikaru's left at a round table which held half a dozen of what she assumed
were his top executives and advisors, smiling, nodding and trying generally to
seem like she knew what was happening.
She almost regretted not bringing Barnes.
Almost.
She thought of him sitting alone in his hotel room, laboriously
identifying, compiling, typing and then proof reading literally hundreds of
detailed amendments and couldn't help letting out a little giggle.
Mr. Hikaru looked at her.
Megan smiled at him and brought the cup of saki to her lips...
Finally, three and a half excruciating hours later, it was over. The
waiter pulled the chair back and Megan got to her feet, staggering a little at
the sudden effort. Mr. Hikaru caught her arm, steadying her. Megan smiled her
thanks. Between the saki, the boredom and the impending jet lag, she was
getting a little dizzy. Her host offered his arm as they left the restaurant
and the blonde woman took it, again smiling her thanks.
As they waited in the parking bay for the driver to return with the
limousine, Mr. Hikaru turned to the translator and spoke for a few seconds. The
woman listened and then turned to Megan: "Mr. Hikaru invites you to join him at
his office for a brief meeting. He says he would be honoured if you would
address some matters with him before the final negotiations."
Megan took a deep breath. She wanted nothing more than to head back to the
hotel and collapse into bed. But this was what she was paid for. And if this
was what it took to close the deal and land her the partnership, well...
"Please tell Mr. Hikaru that I would be honoured."
Mr. Hikaru's "office" turned out to be a large, luxurious suite in a steel
glass tower right in the commercial district of downtown Tokyo. The blonde
woman had felt a moment of shock and disorientation as she's walked into what
was obviously a private residence; she could have sworn it was an office
building.
"Some office," she muttered, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her
face.
Mr. Hikaru looked over at her for a moment and then said something. "This
is for private business," came a voice from behind her. Megan turned and
watched as the translator entered the room and shut the door, wondering at the
sound of her voice. "Mr. Hikaru wishes for you to be comfortable."
The corner of Megan's mouth twitched in a half smirk as she examined the
room. Hazy and half drunk as she was, she knew a seduction when she saw it. The
plush leather couches... the dark - was that really black velvet? - prints...
it was almost laughable. Across the room, Mr. Hikaru opened a cabinet door and
poured two glasses, saying something over his shoulder.
"Mr. Hikaru offers you a drink," came the woman's voice, quiet and timid,
behind her.
Megan smiled. The presence of the translator, she decided as she walked
forward to take the drink, was different.
Original.
Mr. Hikaru raised his glass and spoke.
"To business," came the woman's voice.
Megan raised her glass, nodding, and took a sip.
The scotch immediately commenced battle with the saki, sending her stomach
churning. She put the drink down on the counter and walked over to the window.
The night lights of Tokyo blazed diamond cold and ice hard through the thick,
glazed glass. Taking a deep breath, she watched warily as Hikaru's reflection
moved closer to own in the window.
He spoke.
Off to the side, the ghostlike reflection of the translator fluttered and
said: "Mr. Hikaru says you are... beautiful."
"Here it comes," she whispered to herself, watching as translator's
reflection wavered and drained away, while Hikaru's reflection reached out to
touch...
... she felt his hand on her shoulder, thin and bony.
Her mind skipped quickly through her options. Polite refusal? But what if
didn't take 'no' for an answer? How would that affect the deal? And her bid for
the partnership? It would be a disaster, particularly after she had let herself
be put into such a compromising situation.
Ahh... what the hell.
Why not?
It might even help in the long run.
Smiling seductively, she turned and slid forward as the older man slipped
his hand around her shoulder and pulled her in. Her lips parted..
He is fascinated by her breasts.
She is lying on the coffee table; her blouse has been torn open and her
skirt has been pushed up around her waist, exposing her bare (the panties are
behind the couch) crotch. Groaning, he runs his wet, pink tongue up and down...
up and down... slathering lick and spittle until her breasts are shining and
she has begun to pant with her own, only partially feigned, lust.
"Tits," he mumbles, sucking hungrily at one of her nipples. "Mmmm...
tits." She smirks for a moment. It is the first word she has heard him speak in
english.
Maybe it is the only word he knows.
Back to business...
His shirt and pants are gone, leaving him more than naked in his underwear
and dress shoes. With his clothing gone, he looks more the age she had heard he
was and had imagined him to be. Licking her lips she reaches down and slides a
practised hand underneath his boxer shorts.
Still soft!
She lets out a half moan, half whine. She'd hoped to get this over with
quickly and get back to hotel for some sleep. Hikaru stops licking and looks up
at her. She imagines an apologetic look on his narrow face. He says something
in Japanese.
"Oh, that's alright," she coos encouragingly, smiling at him through a
veil of blonde hair, "I can fix that." She takes his shoulder and maneuveres
him onto the couch, dropping to her knees in front of him.
Hikaru's dark eyes stare, unblinking, as she slides his underwear down to
around his ankles and then, still smiling and cooing encouragement, she takes
his flaccid penis in her mouth. He moans as she suck gently at it, sliding her
soft, wet lips up and down... up and down... trying vainly to coax it to an
erection.
It remains soft.
"Tits," he mumbles, reaching down and pulling her face away from his
crotch. Wiping at the thin trail of saliva running from her lips to his cock,
she looks up at him, puzzled. What does he want? Frowning, he grasps her still
glistening breasts and pulls then down onto his lap.
"Oh."
She understands.
"If that's what you want..." By now her previous arousal is a thing of the
past. All she wants is to get the bastard off and get some sleep. Preferably
not in that order.
Keeping the smile firmly affixed to her face, she bends over, cups her
hands under her firm, wet breasts and begins to massage them against Mr.
Hikaru's cock. The old man groans and she is rewarded by an immediate hardening
of his cock. Encouraged, she starts to rub more energetically, squeezing his
hardening cock between her tits and grinding her body against him. She lets out
a quiet moan at the effort of it, trying desperately to bring him off before
her back gives out.
His cock is now hard. It stands, sliding in and out from between her
breasts as she jiggles and pumps at it. Finally, suddenly, he comes.
"Ahh..."
She barely has time to close her eyes as Hikaru's cock spurts thick and
white, spewing cum over her face and breasts. She tries to pull away, but her
host's hand grasps her shoulder and pulls her down into his crotch, holding her
tight against his dribbling cock.
Eventually, he releases her and she squirms free. She gets to her feet and
staggers to the washroom, exhausted. When she emerges, Hikaru is waiting,
gesturing for her to follow him into another room.
A bedroom.
Still smiling, she says: "I have to go now." She nods at the door. "It's a
big day tomorrow." Hikaru gestures towards the bedroom. She looks around in
vain for the translator, but she is nowhere to be found. She considers leaving,
but her clothes are a torn, cum stained mess on the floor.
Hikaru turns and goes through the door.
Sighing, she follows him into the room and lies down beside him on the
bed. Mr. Hikaru, tireless, pulls open her blouse and begins sucking at her
breasts again.
She falls asleep while he sucks...
*****
Megan peeled open her eyes and let out a quiet groan.
Where was she?
Oh, yes. She remembered now. The dinner... the sex - if she could call it
that - with Mr. Hikaru... bolting upright, wide awake at 3:30 in the morning,
as the combination of the jet lag and alcohol slammed into her like a ton of
bricks... lying in bed, motionless so as not to wake the other occupant of the
bed, listening as he snored and snorted beside her... picking and scraping the
dried cum off her chest and throat while the digital clock at the side of the
bed marked the slow, measured second, minutes and hours until, finally, about
three hours later, she finally fell into a deep, black slumber.
What time was it?
She glanced over at the digital clock which had kept her company for much
of the night.
3:37.
Shit! The day was more than half over. There were meetings... negotiations
she was supposed to have attended. What happened? Why had no one woken her up?
Megan threw back the covers and rolled out of bed. Naked. Cursing, she
looked about for her clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen. After a moment
of thought, she realized that she couldn't remember where - or if - she'd taken
them off. Desperate, she walked over to a closet, swung it open and sighed with
relief as she realized that one whole side held nothing but women's clothing.
Evidently, she wasn't the first woman Hikaru had brought to the room.
She grabbed the first item - a pink nightie, which barely came to half way
down her thigh - slipped it on and walked over to the telephone.
Barnes first... at the hotel. No answer.
Megan checked the clock and did some quick mental calculations. Traddler
might just still be at the office. She dialled and listened as the phone rang
once... twice...
"Traddler."
She sagged with relief. "Bill. It's Megan."
"Megan!" The senior lawyer sounded excited. "Where are you? I've been
trying to contact you all day." The blonde woman opened her mouth to speak, but
then paused. How could she answer? She couldn't very well say...
"Barnes has been going through the documents with Hikaru's people,"
Traddler continued, oblivious to the lack of response from Megan. "He told me
you've been meeting directly with Hikaru. Is that right?"
"Uhm... yeah, that's right." Close enough, Megan thought.
"Christ, how did you manage that? Hikaru never..." Traddler became even
more agitated. "...never mind. Listen. Congress is going to pass some of that
protectionist trade legislation they've been talking about. It's not general
knowledge yet, but it'll happen. Our people won't do the deal unless Hikaru
agrees to accept the risk of higher tariffs."
Megan bit her lip, thinking for a moment. "The only way to do that would
be to add tariff fluctuation as a component of the purchaser's cost." She shook
her head. "That's a non-starter. He'll never agree to that."
"That's your job," Traddler told her. "Convince him. He's never been
directly involved in negotiations before. He must want this deal. If you can't
persuade him, the deal will die. You do have authority to compromise a bit on
some other issues. Nothing major, though. Barnes has the specifics."
Megan sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
"Good. You know what this deal means for our client. And for the firm."
"Yes. I know."
Megan tied her thick blonde hair into a tight bun and examined the result
in the bathroom mirror. Not perfect, she decided, examining her reflection, but
at least she looked human again. The long, hot shower had washed the sweat and
dried cum from her body and half an hour with her brush and makeup - both
conveniently sitting in Hikaru's bathroom - had pretty much covered the
exhaustion in her face. She grimaced as she looked at herself in the pink
nightie... the pink, ruffles and silk was a couple of sizes too small for her,
pulling tight around her breasts and barely covering her upper thighs. She'd
have to find her clothing as quickly as possible.
She turned and walked into the bedroom.
"I bring greetings from Mr. Hikaru." Megan stopped in her tracks,
startled. It was the anaemic looking translator. "He hopes that you slept
well."
"Where are my clothes?"
"They were torn and... soiled." Did the girl smile? "Mr. Hikaru had them
sent away to be mended and cleaned. Mr. Hikaru did not want to wake you. He
said you were tired after your long journey."
Megan frowned. "Where is Mr. Hikaru?"
"He is at work. I am to tell you that he will return at 6:30 to join you
for dinner. He wishes you to accompany him to a small function afterwards."
The blonde woman looked at the clock: 5:20. She started to say something,
but then closed her mouth. Another hour or so wouldn't hurt. She needed the
chance to speak to Mr. Hikaru about the tariff component of the contract. She
looked up at the translator. "I will be happy to meet with Mr. Hikaru over
dinner," she said, emphasizing the word 'meet'. "And accompany him afterwards."
She gestured down at the sheer nightie. "But I'll need some clothes."
"Mr. Hikaru has arranged everything."
"...and in those circumstances, a tariff fluctuation clause only makes
sense as a part of the purchaser's cost component." Megan fell silent for a
moment and took a bite of food as the translator laboriously repeated her
statements in Japanese. The blonde lawyer shifted uncomfortably in her seat as
her host smiled, his gaze sliding up from her legs to her chest, where it came
to rest.
Almost unconsciously, she crossed her legs and tried to smooth down the
skirt. The clothes, when they had finally arrived, were of impeccable quality
and taste. As with the nightie, however, they seemed to be a couple of sized
too small. The black skirt tightly hugged her curves of her ass and rode a good
eight inches higher on her legs than the skirts she usually wore. The blouse
too - a beautiful white silk - fit tight around her chest. The shoes fit, but
the heels were a couple inches higher than she was used to wearing... to
business meetings, at least. Still, the clothes were nice. And she couldn't
help but admire the way they made her look... particularly with the matching
jade necklace and earrings Mr. Hikaru had provided.
Mr. Hikaru spoke.
Megan turned to the translator.
"Mr. Hikaru says that you are beautiful tonight. He is surprised that a
beautiful woman such as yourself has to work for a living."
The blonde woman frowned and tossed her head. "Tell Mr. Hikaru that I'm as
a good a lawyer as any male he's ever dealt with."
The older man smiled as the translator turned her anger into polite
Japanese. Then he answered: "Mr. Hikaru apologises if he has given you insult.
He meant it as a compliment."
Megan nodded, satisfied. "Ask him what he had to say about the tariff
clause."
Mr. Hikaru checked his watch as the translator spoke and then rose,
speaking. The translator said: "It is time for the function. Mr. Hikaru will
discuss this matter further with you on the way."
"Fine."
The function... a party, really... was every bit as tedious as the dinner
the previous night. It turned out to be a large affair, with dozens of people
mingling and chatting in a traditional hall. From what she was able to gather
from the translator, which wasn't much, it appeared to be some kind of
celebration in recognition of someone's son achieving an award of some sort.
There was a young man who appeared to be the centre of attention, so Megan
figured that this was pretty accurate.
She was the only non-Japanese person in attendance.
As was the case the previous evening, the translator was virtually
useless, following her around speaking in such a quiet voice that Megan
couldn't make out a word. As a result, the blonde woman didn't have a clue what
was happening or what people were saying around her. She just followed Mr.
Hikaru around, either behind as he went from one group to the other, or on his
arm as he chatted with friends, smiling inanely ever time someone addressed a
comment towards her. About the only thing the translator was good for was
fetching drinks and, by the end of the evening, Megan was more than a little
tipsy.
"Oops..."
The blonde woman let out a quiet giggle at the translator as the anaemic
looking girl stumbled and almost fell while climbing into the limousine. The
girl's face remained expressionless as she regained her balance and took her
seat across from Megan and Mr. Hikaru, facing towards the back of the vehicle.
Mr. Hikaru turned to the blonde woman and spoke as the limousine began to
move. He spoke and the translator translated: "Mr. Hikaru wishes to discuss
the tariff matter with you further, but not tonight. Tonight is for personal
matters."
"Uhmm..."
Megan's alcohol sodden tongue fought for the right words. Normally, she
would be more than willing and able to blow off such a clumsy opening, but she
had to bite her tongue in these circumstances, particularly in light of the
previous night's activities. She couldn't afford to insult him - she needed his
agreement to do the deal - but the last thing she wanted right now was to deal
with "personal matters".
Not, at least, with Mr. Hikaru.
"Uhmm..."
Undeterred by Megan's lack of response, the Japanese man reached up over
her shoulder and pulled her towards him. She tried to put him off with a
non-committal shake of the head. No reaction. How could she... The blonde
woman's mind raced with options. Maybe she should reconsider her decision to
reject his advances, at least overtly; maybe this situation could be turned to
her advantage. If Hikaru wanted her badly enough...
More familiar territory.
Smiling, confident in her new course of action, she leaned into the old
man, parted her lips and kissed him. He seemed surprised and tensed up for a
moment but then melted into the kiss. Their tongues met, twisting and darting
together for a moment before she pulled away. "Maybe tomorrow..." she
whispered. "...after we discuss the tariff matter and...".
Mr. Hikaru interrupted her with anther kiss. This time it was Megan's turn
to be surprised, but she kissed him back, now confident that she had him
hooked. By the end of the day tomorrow...
"Ah..."
Megan sensed a movement from below. She broke the kiss and looked down. It
was the translator. The woman was on her knees on the floor of the limousine.
Megan peered down, unbelieving, as the Japanese woman unfastened Mr. Hikaru's
pants and began to slide his small, half erect cock out from the fly.
"What the hell..."
Mr. Hikaru grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and pulled her face back
against his. Surprisingly strong, he held her firm while using his other hand
to rip open the blouse and start kneading her breasts. Confused, her mouth full
of the Japanese man's tongue, Megan could only watch out of the corner of her
eye as the translator took Mr. Hikaru's cock into her mouth and began to bob up
and down. She was mesmerized by the image of the Japanese woman running her
mouth up and down along the stiff cock... licking at it... sucking... the quiet
slurping...
Mr. Hikaru ran his skilful fingers along her nipples, teasing them into
hardness. Through the haze of alcohol, Megan felt herself start to become
excited...
Megan flinches a bit when the translator reaches under her skirt and
begins to massager her pussy, but quickly relaxes into a pleasurable fog as the
well placed friction sends waves of sensation coursing through her body. Mr.
Hikaru leans further over and starts to suck hungrily at her breasts.
"Tits..."
"Oh..."
Her view is blocked by Mr. Hikaru's head, but she feels the translator's
fingers slip under the waistband of her panties and begin to pull them down.
Shivering, she shifts on the seat, raising her ass to free the panties.
"Good girl."
It is the translator speaking.
The panties are down around her ankles and then gone.
Megan leans back in the seat, spreads her legs and surrenders herself to
the sensations coursing through her body. Mr. Hikaru is kissing and sucking at
her rock hard nipples while the translator burrows in and is nuzzling...
licking... biting at her sopping pussy.
"Oh yes... oh yes... oh..."
Under the expert attentions of the two Japanese, the blonde woman is soon
writhing and bucking on the seat, moaning with lust. She feels her pussy juice
trickling down between her legs and sliding underneath her ass onto the leather
seat. The squelching sound as she writhes on the seat only heightens her
excitement... adding to the heat...
"Oh... oh... oh..."
The translator knows her work. Over the next half hour, she brings the
whimpering blonde woman to the brink of climax again and again... only to pull
back just in time. Panting... mewling... whining... Megan reaches down with her
own hand to finish the job, but the translator's head blocks access to her
pussy.
"Please..."
Finally, after the fourth near climax, Mr. Hikaru pulls away from her
breasts and speaks. The translator, her face red and slick with pussy juice,
looks up from between Megan's legs and turns his words into english: "Mr.
Hikaru would like to... to fuck you." The translator stumbles over the word
"fuck". Is she blushing?
Megan looks down. The elderly Japanese man's cock is standing, stiff and
ready on his lap.
Yes...
"Oh, fuck yes..."
She needs to come so badly!
Megan pulls her skirt up around her waist and pushes herself off the seat.
Bent over in the back of the limousine, she starts to turn around, but the
translator maneuvers her so that she is sitting on Mr. Hikaru's lap, facing
away from Mr. Hikaru. Megan doesn't argue; she needs his cock! Mewling quietly
to herself, she waits impatiently until the translator has positioned Mr.
Hikaru's cock and then - at last! - slides herself down, impaling herself.
"Oh... god, yes..."
In her excited state, the mans' cock in her pussy immediately sends her
into a near frenzy of ecstasy. Bracing her feet on the car floor to either side
of Mr. Hikaru's legs, she begins to bounce herself up and down, ramming his
cock in and out of her sopping pussy as hard and as deep as she can.
"Yes... yes... oh yes... fuck me, Hikaru... oh yes..."
She is momentarily startled when the translator surges forward to kiss her
full on the lips, but doesn't miss a beat, throwing her arms around the
Japanese woman's neck and kissing her back, all the while continuing to buck up
and down on Mr. Hikaru's cock.
"Uh... uh... uh..."
The feel of the woman's lips... her tongue... sends the frenzied blonde
woman over the edge. She feels the inevitable climax building... surging...
exploding in her sweat glistening body. The translator pulls her face away as
the pace of her bucking increases, leaving a trail of saliva attaching their
lips. Almost screaming, Megan clutches and grabs at her own breasts, kneading
and thrashing about on Mr. Hikaru's lap in a frenzy of lust, until...
"Ahhhhhh...."
She comes.
Stiffening... moaning... thrashing... crying...
She comes, throwing herself violently backwards against the Japanese man,
pushing him back into the seat. His cock slips free as she thrashes back
against him. The translator darts forward, grasps it in her long, thin fingers
and begins sliding her hand up and down along the slick pole. Within moments,
Mr. Hikaru spasms and comes, his cock spurting ropes of cum up onto the blonde
woman's half exposed breasts.
"Oh..."
Megan gasps as the warm liquid splatters all over her breasts and down her
front. She drops one hand to her pussy and begins to rub, her body demanding a
second orgasm. The translator scoops a gob of Mr. Hikaru's warm, sticky sperm
onto her finger and brings it up to the blonde woman's mouth. Megan takes the
finger into her mouth and sucks greedily as a second orgasm boils through her
body...
*****
"It's the phone. The phone is ringing."
Megan opens her eyes. For the second day in a row, she wakes up in Mr.
Hikaru's bedroom. The digital clock reads 2:18. The translator is standing
beside the bed.
"The phone." The girl's voice seem stronger. "Pick it up."
Megan sits up, clutching a sticky sheet to her chest.
There is a stinging pain in her left arm.
The phone is ringing.
"The call is important."
Megan picks up the phone.
It was Traddler.
"Megan. I've been trying to reach you all night. Barnes is going over the
final revisions with Hikaru's people. He says you've been closeted with Hikaru
all night working out an agreement on the tariff clause."
"Uh..." The blonde woman screwed her eyes shut and then opened them again,
trying to the sleep daze. "That's right." The translator picked up a remote
control and clicked on a television across the room. Megan shook her head;
where did that come from? That hadn't been...
"Oh... oh, yes..."
She stiffened in shock. The memories of the previous night's activities in
the limousine came crashing in on her as she watched the shadowy image of her
slut-self slide down onto Mr. Hikaru's cock and begin bouncing up and down. "Oh
yes... fuck me, Hikaru... oh..."
"Megan? Are you there?"
She'd forgotten about Traddler.
"Uh... yeah," she answered, waving at the translator, trying to get her to
turn the television off. "I'm here. Just kind of tired." Her head felt like it
was stuffed with cotton. "It's been kind of intense."
"Oh... yes, yes... fuck me..." The image on the screen bucked and mewled,
glistening breasts jiggling wildly.
"Fair enough," Traddler continued. "Listen. Barnes tells me that they've
agreed to the tariff deal as we wanted it. The client is ecstatic. This deal is
going to be the..."
"oh... oh... oh..." The image on the camera was momentarily blocked and
then the video cut to a different angle, a little above and beside the
subjects. From the new perspective, Megan and the Japanese woman, the
translator, are clearly visible, kissing on Hikaru's lap. Their tongues
shimmered as they danced and darted in and out of each others' mouths...
"...but there's one more thing. The Japanese aren't certain..." Traddler
paused for a moment as the blonde woman on the screen let out a brief, high
pitched squeal. "What was that? Are you watching television? What's going on?"
"Uhmm... no." Megan waved at the translator again, trying to get her to
turn off the television. The woman ignored her. "It's just the... uh, cleaning.
The cleaning women are working outside. You know hotels."
"Oh. Anyway, the Japanese aren't confident about the calculations under
the new tariff clause. They want someone to work with them over the next few
months. Sort of an advisor, or liaison. Something like that."
"Oh... oh... oh yes..."
On the screen, the translator had slipped away and the camera had cut back
to the original full view. Megan was clearly visible, her blouse ripped open,
bucking and thrashing and mewling on the Japanese man's lap. Sweat trickled
down her body as she became more and more frantic and, finally...
"Hikaru's asked for you."
... she came, throwing herself back against Mr. Hikaru's body. Her legs
kicked wildly in the air as she twitched and spasmed and whimpered her way
through a frenzied orgasm.
"Megan? Hello?"
Traddler.
The blonde woman closed her eyes. What had he...
"Sorry. What did you say?"
"Mr. Hikaru wants you to stay on as an advisor."
Mr. Hikaru wants you to stay on...
Megan sagged back in the bed, trying to think things through... trying to
consider what Traddler had just said to her... trying to find a way to say
'no'...
But her mind didn't seem to work. She just couldn't think straight. God,
she was tired...
She opened her eyes.
On the screen, the translator was feeding her a dollop of thick, dripping
cum, smiling as the blonde sucked at it eagerly and, one hand moving down to
grope at her dripping pussy, came again.
"Megan... what do you say? It'll be a real coup. For you and for the firm.
And the partnership..." Traddler left that last promise dangling.
The partnership.
The camera zoomed in and focused on her face, empty and flushed, as the
translator fed her another fingerful of cum.
The partnership...
Oh god... "Alright," she sighed, unable to think her way out of it. "I'll
do it. Just for a while, though. Right?"
"Three months," Traddler told her, "with an option for three more. I'll
tell Barnes."
He hung up.
The screen went black.
Megan looked up at the translator.
"You will stay on."
It wasn't a question, but Megan answered it anyway.
"Yes."
The translator picks up the phone and speaks into it. Megan turns away and
gazes at the blank screen. Strangely... impossibly... the images on the screen
have excited her. She feels an urge to slide her hand down to her pussy and
massage herself, but she doesn't do it.
She glances over at the digital clock.
An empty needle lies beside it.
"Prepare yourself." The translator is speaking, her voice strong and
confident. "Mr. Hikaru wishes to see you in ten minutes."
Megan looks up, startled at the new tone of voice. The Japanese woman
gestures at the foot of the bed; she has laid out some clothing. "Get up."
Megan does as she is told. The translator leads her into the bathroom,
wipes the worst of the cum and sweat from her face and uses makeup to hide the
rest. When she is finished, the Japanese woman gives Megan a quick kiss, and
Megan feels the tip of the woman's tongue on her lips. She opens her mouth, not
certain whether she is going to object or kiss the woman back, but the other
woman has already moved away and is pulling her from the bathroom.
"Hurry. Your employer is waiting." The translator gestures towards the
clothing laid out on the bed.
Megan gets dressed.
The clothing is again of good quality, but too small. The skirt is, if
anything, even shorter than the one given to her the previous day, terminating
a good foot above her knees. The buttons on the blouse strain against her
breasts and the shoes have the same unbusinesslike high heels.
"Follow me."
The translator leaves the room and Megan follows. The blonde woman keeps
her gaze downward as she is led across a hall and through a busy office.
Embarrassed, she can feel the gazes of the workers. She feels her face blush
red. Finally, they reach Mr. Hikaru's office. The translator knocks and a voice
beckons them inside.
The office is full of men.
Barnes is there.
Watching.
Mr. Hikaru gestures and Megan is led to his side. He puts his arm on her
shoulder and, speaking in a loud voice, makes some comments to the men. A
number of them laugh; others just snicker and turn away. Megan smiles and tries
to look like she knows what is going on.
Barnes sidles up to her: "Mr. Hikaru just announced that you were staying
on for a while," he tells her. "He says that he is very impressed with your
skill at negotiating. And that he is looking forward to working with you."
The translator smiles at this last comment.
Barnes moves away.
Mr. Hikaru turns and speaks to the translator.
Megan watches in silence, awaiting the next order.
It's not long in coming.
"Come."
The translator turns and walks out of the room. The men watch in
appreciative silence as Megan follows, her gaze turned downward. She follows
the Japanese woman through the office, across the hall and back into Mr.
Hikaru's private chambers.
"Wait here." The Japanese woman gestures for her to get back into bed.
"Mr. Hikaru will be attend to you in an hour or two. As your Mr. Barnes said,
Mr. Hikaru is very much looking forward to working with you." She turned,
picked up the remote control and turned the video back on.
"... oh... oh, yes... oh..."
The translator spoke again: "And so am I."
THE END
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