Jasmine Goes To A Trade Show Ch. 05

Note: This picks up just after Ch. 04

That night the hotel bar was crowded and loud. It was the regular meeting place after a day of presentations, meetings and meet & greets at the trade show, a place where the reps and the vendors could loosen up a bit over drinks. There were dozens of reps present. In this crowded bar, one woman stood out, Jasmine, who had switched from her suit to something far more dangerous. She wore a simple, black silk dress that left little to the imagination. Beside her was Julie, the former intern she had helped secure a position in one of her client's offices. Jasmine had recently taken Julie under her wing, and helped transform her into a stunning, confident beauty and eager accomplice.

Jasmine was in the middle of a fun anecdote when her eyes spotted a lone guy, brooding, at the far end of the bar. It was Nick. He looked like he was at a wake with his head staring into glass of whiskey.

A slow, predatory smile emerged on Jasmine's lips. She stared for a few moments until his gaze caught hers; then she gave him a deliberate wink.

It was all the provocation he needed. Nick slammed the rest of his drink in one motion, then slammed, the glass hitting the bar with a sharp bang. He pushed off his stool and began a determined march towards her, his path obstructed by laughing executives and flirtatious reps.

Jasmine didn't flinch. She was ready for this.

"He thinks he's depressed now," she thought, "Just wait until I get it all."

She turned to Julie, her voice soft, lost to others in the loud bar. "Poor Nick looks angry," she said, her eyes still fixed on him. "Time to fade into the background, Julie. Mix, mingle, but keep us in your sights. This is what we talked about. Looks like it's a go."

Julie nodded with complete understanding of the secret plan, and then she melted into the crowd, leaving Jasmine to face the oncoming storm alone.

Meanwhile, Nick pushed through the last of the crowd, his face showed barely containing his fury. He reached her just as she was turning to order another drink.

But before Nick could utter a word, she pivoted to him, her face lighting up with a disarming smile. "Nick!" she exclaimed, leaning in and pressing her lips softly against his cheek in a gesture of warm familiarity. The scent of her perfume washed over him, and the intimate contact felt like a violation, fake affection that instantly set him on edge.

He opened his mouth, angry words already forming, but she was faster. Her index finger came to rest gently on his lips, silencing him. "Please don't say anything you'll regret, Nick," she murmured, her voice a low, intimate whisper meant only for him. "Literally all of our clients and half the industry is here. You don't want to make a scene."

Her eyes, wide and feigning concern, darted around the room, as his followed. She was right; he saw CEO's laughing, VP's from rival firms talking, and board members networking with potential partners and investors. A public outburst here would be career suicide, not just for the account he lost today, but for any future in the industry. He was trapped.

He lowered his voice to a venomous hiss. "Don't you dare touch me." He took a small step back. "You know exactly what you did today in that boardroom."

Jasmine simply tilted her head, her expression a masterpiece of feigned innocence. The dress shifted, drawing his unwilling gaze to the smooth skin of her shoulders. "What I did?" she asked, her voice laced with sweet confusion. "I simply gave a presentation. I'm sorry if you felt... somehow threatened by the numbers."

"Threatened?" he scoffed, keeping his voice low and tight. "You're pathetic, teasing me like that. The legs, the... the shoe." He felt his face flush with a mixture of both anger and for some reason, a little shame as he thought about it.

She let out a soft laugh, as if he'd told a joke. "Oh, Nick, you're so funny. I was just trying to get comfortable in those ridiculously stiff boardroom chairs. I had no idea you were paying such close attention to me or, for that matter, my choice of footwear."

She took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes watching him over the rim of the glass. "Is that what distracted you? My shoe?"

He could feel his control slipping. "You know damn well it was! And the blouse. Don't even pretend you didn't plan that."

"Planned what?" she asked, her brow furrowed in mock concentration. She set her glass down and idly toyed with the delicate gold chain around her neck, her fingers tracing the path towards her cleavage. "My button comming loose? It was an old blouse. These things happen. You really shouldn't have let it derail you, though. A professional needs to be able to... adapt."

He was seething now, his hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Adapt? how the hell is that sometbing to adapt to? You sat there and deliberately humiliated me while I was trying to work! You knew exactly what you were doing with every little move, every smile, every..."

"Every what?" she prompted softly, her eyes gleaming with triumphant amusement as she successfully baited him into replaying his own humiliation. He was so focused on his anger, on his tirade, that he didn't notice the curious glances beginning to drift their way, or the fact that Julie, now chatting with a group near the bar, was subtly angling herself to better hear.

Jasmine noticed a few heads turning in their direction. She immediately shifted her strategy. The feigned innocence vanished, replaced by a sudden, forceful suggestion.

"Hey," she said softly, her tone now placating. She flagged down a bartender, ordered two more whiskeys, and pressed one into Nick's clenched fist. "This one's on me." She gestured with her chin towards a dark, secluded corner booth in the back of the bar. "Look, we're being watched. Let's not give them a show. You clearly want to get some things off your chest, and frankly, I'm curious. Let's go have a more private conversation."

He hesitated, every instinct screaming at him that this could be another trap. But she was already masterfully playing him on three fronts. First, she was right. His pride was a fragile thing, and the thought of all of these people, his peers and rivals, witnessing his public breakdown was unbearable. Second, she was giving him exactly what he craved: a venue for his rage. The promise of unloading his fury was something he couldn't ignore. And third, the most effective tactic of all: as she spoke, she let her gaze drop to his lips, her own parting slightly. She shifted her weight, and the black sheath dress pulled taut across her hips, a silent reminder of the very things that had undone him a few hours ago. Despite his anger, an attraction was there. He was irrationally turned on by her, and that attraction was a weapon she wielded with ease & precision.

"Fine," he said through clinched teeth.

As a new smile, somehow both genuine & mischievous, broke across her lips, she took the lead as they navigated the maze of people & tables and settled into the deep leather of the corner booth, the low lighting and relative isolation creating an intimate atmosphere that felt miles away from the crowd.

The moment they were seated, the dam of Nick's restraint broke. "That was the most unprofessional, manipulative thing I have ever seen," he began, his voice practically a growl. "You didn't win that contract on merit, you won it by turning a boardroom into a peep show."

Just as he was building a full head of steam, a figure appeared at their table. It was Julie.

The hotel bar didn't even have waitresses, you had to go to the bar, but that was literally the last thing on Nick's mind.

"Can I get you two another drink?" she asked, her voice professional and devoid of any recognition, as if she were a complete stranger to Jasmine.

Without missing a beat, Jasmine flashed her a warm smile. "Yes, please. Two more whiskeys. Put it on my tab, room 714."

Nick didn't even give Julie a glance, his fury tunnel-visioned on the woman across from him. He just grunted his assent, assuming she was part of the hotel staff. As soon as Julie disappeared, he continued his rant. "It was disgraceful. Frankly, a complete lack of ethics."

Jasmine listened, her expression showing a perfect blend of sympathy and contrition.

She nodded slowly, letting him exhaust his anger. "I know, Nick," she said softly, her voice soothing. "And you're right. It's just... I'm so new to the business. I need every advantage I can get, especially when I'm up against someone like you." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes wide with what looked like genuine admiration. "Your knowledge of the market is intimidating. Honestly."

He was taken aback by the compliment, his righteous indignation faltering. "Well, that doesn't excuse..." he started, but his voice was losing some of its edge.

"I know," she agreed, her gaze unwavering. "But I have to use what I have. You're the best in the business, Nick. I was just trying to level the playing field."

He sat back. His rage was dying, being replaced by the warmth of his ego being expertly stoked. "It's still not professional."

As he spoke, Jasmine casually flipped her hair over her shoulder, the motion drawing his eyes to her neck. Then she ran her tongue slowly across her lower lip, a quick, glistening gesture that he couldn't look away from.

"I know," she again whispered. "Again I'm sorry. I just got so caught up in trying to impress the board. And to be honest, trying to impress you."

He blinked. "Impress me? You humiliated me."

"I am sorry that I took your biggest account," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. She leaned further across the table, the neckline of her dress shifting, offering a deliberate glimpse of the soft swell of her breasts. "It wasn't personal."

"It's not my biggest," he corrected, a note of pride creeping back into his voice. He couldn't resist the opening she'd intentionally given him.

Jasmine looked genuinely surprised. "It's not? But I heard... well, never mind." She let the sentence hang in the air, baiting him, now leaning forward to give him a perfect view down her dress.

"It's not," he insisted, his ego fully engaged now. He held up three fingers. "I've got three bigger. The Northridge account, the Meridian Global partnership, and the Sterling Holdings retainer." He counted them off, his chest puffing out slightly.

Jasmine's eyes widened in awe. "Wow. Nick, that's... just incredible. I'm just trying to break into double digits. I think I'm sitting at around ten accounts total." She shook her head in feigned disbelief. "You must have, what, a couple dozen?"

He scoffed, taking the bait completely. "More than that. I'm responsible for forty-eight. Well, forty-seven now, after today." He said the last part with a trace of bitterness, but it was mostly for show now. He was the expert again, the top rep, the best there is.

"I just can't even imagine how you get into accounts like that. The really big ones." Jasmine continued.

The bait was dangled and irresistible. Nick swallowed it whole. "It's not just about getting them," he began, his tone now having shifted from angry to boastful, like a veteran recounting old war stories. "It's about the hunt. Take Northridge, for example. Everyone thought they were locked down with Global-Tech because their VP of Operations, Mark Stevens, was golf buddies with their CEO. But I did my homework, learned that Stevens started that rumor to discourage others from trying. They were open to bids all along."

He took a self-satisfied swig of his whiskey, encouraged by Jasmine who was nodding along, her expression one of rapt fascination, while her fingers casually traced the neckline of her dress, drawing his gaze. "Ooh," she cooed, "Tell me more."

Then there's the Meridian Global partnership," he continued, warming to his theme. "Their gatekeeper is a total bitch. A woman named Helen in acquisitions who's rejected every single cold call for five years. I couldn't get through. So I eventually found out she's a world traveler, takes off every March to go to Europe. That's the window to get through, appointment first week of March, then presentation and bid quickly, got it signed before she was back."

"My god, Nick," Jasmine breathed, her eyes sparkling. "That's incredible."

He shrugged, playing it cool. "It's what I do. The Sterling Holdings retainer was different, though. That one... that's been a battle." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Their whole system runs on a legacy Oracle platform that's incompatible with our new software. Every other rep told them it was impossible, that they'd have to do a full system overhaul, which they'd never agree to. But I found a guy, a freelance coder in Estonia of all places, who developed a software patch. It's not perfect, it's a constant fight to keep it stable, but it works. I'm in there, and I'm the only one who can keep it working. They're stuck with me, and they know it. I can charge them crazy rates."

As he finished speaking, Jasmine reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his forearm. Her touch was light, electric. "You truly are amazing Nick, I'm sorry only one of us could get the account today," she said softly, her eyes locked on his. "It really wasn't personal."

He didn't even notice as Julie reappeared at the table. "Another round?"

He was now completely focused on Jasmine's admiration, completely unaware that she had just expertly milked him for some extremely valuable information that she'd be using to get those accounts.

"I'd love one, but I'm probably over on my expense account for the night," Jasmine said with a regretful little sigh.

"Don't worry about it," Nick said magnanimously, already reaching for his wallet, feeling generous and in control again. "I've got it."

"The system's actually down at the bar right now," Julie said smoothly, not missing a beat. "But I'm happy to charge it to your room if you like."

"No problem," Nick said, not even looking up from fumbling with his wallet. "Nick Frazier. Room 821."

Julie gave a slight nod. "Of course, sir." She turned and disappeared back into the crowd. Jasmine was memorizing the list of his three biggest clients, their key personnel, their internal vulnerabilities, and now his personal room number.

Julie returned with two fresh glasses of whiskey, setting them down on the table with practiced efficiency. As she leaned over to place Jasmine's drink, her elbow "accidentally" knocked against a water glass. A small wave of liquid spread across the polished wood, directly in front of Jasmine.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Julie exclaimed, her voice full of genuine-sounding distress.

Jasmine just laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "It's fine, really, just water." She slid her own glass out of the way, then made a show of looking at the damp spot. "Well, there's no room here now."

Without a moment's hesitation, she picked up her drink and slid gracefully into the booth's other bench beside Nick, pressing her thigh against his.

The change was instantaneous. The professional veneer, the strategic talk of accounts and clients, evaporated. She was no longer a rival; she was a warm, soft presence against his side, her gentle Chanel filling his senses. "So," she began, "are you going to the big tech summit in Austin next month?"

He felt a shiver run down his spine as her breath tickled his neck. "I, uh, think so. Yeah."

For a long moment, they just sat there in silence, the band a distant heartbeat. Ever patient, she simply let the proximity work its magic, letting him feel the warmth of her thigh against his, the soft material of her dress. Then, she broke the silence, her voice a low, playful murmur against his ear. "Now that we're friends," she smiled, turning her head so her lips were nearly brushing him, "I'd love it if you would do me a favor."

Puzzled, his mind struggling to catch up with this sudden turn in events, he asked, "What?"

As her fingers traced a nonsensical pattern on his forearm. "I want you to tell me," she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial, "Which parts of my performance in the boardroom earlier were your favorites."

He froze. Every muscle in his body tensed. The anger, the humiliation, the unprofessionalism, all rushed back, but those feelings were overmatched by the arousal he was feeling. He couldn't answer.

Sensing his hesitation, she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his neck. "It's okay," she assured him, the words soft and comforting. "You can answer. It'll be our little secret that you liked it." The promise of a shared, somewhat illicit secret was somehow intoxicating.

But he was still hesitant.

So she began to tease, her voice dropping even softer. "Let's see if I can help you remember. It actually started this morning, you know. Before I even left my room. I was standing there, applying my lotions to make my skin glow. I made sure to rub it in extra slow, right here..." She gestured to the smooth exposed skin of her shoulder. "... and here." Her hand drifted to her chest, resting just above the line of her cleavage. "Of course, you didn't see that part," she laughed, "But you know what came next."

That was all it took. His dam of resistance broke, and his stoic pride crumbled.

He smoothly took over, his voice low and monotone as he recounted his own torture. "First your movements during your presentation. I couldn't even look at your slides."

"And?" She egged him on.

"Your legs and those stockings," he said, his eyes fixed on the space in front of him as if watching a ghost. "When you crossed them. The slit in that skirt... it was so hot to watch while I was up there trying to talk about ROI."

"Oh, you mean these stockings?" she purred, her hand placing his on her silky thigh, then moving hers to his. "I wasn't sure if they were too much. I chose the ones with the little seam up the back. I so hoped you might notice."

"Notice?" he let out a dry, humorless laugh. "I was practically counting the stitches. And your heels... dangling one like that. I completely lost my train of thought. I must have sounded like an idiot."

She feigned empathy, her eyes wide with false concern as she began letting her hand draw circles around his leg, her fingers often tracing the inseam of his pants. "Oh, you poor thing," she cooed. "That must have been so hard for you. To have to stand there and look at all that... while trying to stay focused."

"It was impossible," he confessed, his voice somehow conveying both desire and resentment. "And then the button. When you popped it open... that was it. Game over. The lace bra was enough. I was lost even before your nipple slipped out."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "I know," she whispered, acknowledging her victory. "That part was just for fun."

Just as she finished working him up, she changed the subject, "So," she began, her fingers still stroking his leg, "Maybe I'll see you in Austin. Unfortunately I'm flying out in the morning," she whispered, snuggling closer into him, her head resting gently on his shoulder.

He couldn't take it anymore. He put his arm around her, pulling her tighter against him, and leaned in. She responded by turning her face to his, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was impossibly gentle, a soft, testing pressure that sent a jolt straight through him. She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his, then leaned in for another.

This one was deeper, more insistent.

As they continued, each kiss grew in intensity, a slow, deliberate escalation that she knew was erasing every rational thought in his head. Her hand moved to his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. Between kisses, she feigned a breathless reluctance. "Oh, Nick... should we?" she murmured, even as her lips were brushing against his with every word.

"God, yes," he practically begged, his voice filled with desire. He tried to kiss her again, but she pulled back just enough, a playful, teasing glint in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a soft, seductive challenge.

"I've never been more sure of anything," he insisted, his hand sliding down her back to pull her closer.

She relented, a slow, victorious smile spreading across her face. "Well, okay, if you're sure," she agreed softly. "But it'll have to be my room," she added, her tone light and playful. "I never go to a stranger's room."

He didn't hesitate for a second. "Whatever you want," he agreed, his mind completely consumed by the need to have her.

She stood up, taking his hand. "Come with me."

He followed blindly, unknowingly her captive, as she led him out of the bar and towards the elevator, leaving their half-finished drinks and an ever watching Julie behind.

Arriving at her room, they found it lit only by the glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Jasmine spun toward him once inside, placing her hands on the waistband of his trousers, and gave him a slow, deliberate smile.

"First things first," she murmured. With a slow, agonizingly teasing motion, she unbuttoned his slacks as the pressure against him from her hands immediately brought his full hardness back. She then slid the pants down his hips, his boxers following a moment later.

She let them pool at his feet and nudged them aside with her foot as he stepped out. Her hands were warm and determined as she next pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it drop across the chair. She then guided him to the mattress. She took her time removing her own clothes, slowly unzipping, then allowing the silk of her dress to slip down to the floor, leaving her in nothing but lace lingerie that was sheer enough to see through even in the low light.

When she finally climbed onto the bed, she moved with a silky grace that bordered on hypnotic. She straddled him, her hands trailing a path down his chest, across his sensitive nipples and over his stomach, and even lower.

Her tongue darted out, tracing the line of his jaw, then down his neck, lingering at the hollow of his throat. She kissed her way toward his torso, stopping to lavish attention on his nipples, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending jolts of electricity through him. She moved even lower, her mouth eventually wrapping around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling in a rhythm that was maddeningly slow.

He was achingly hard, throbbing with need, and beginning to moan, but she wouldn't let him get going yet. She was just getting started. She pulled back, her eyes meeting his, dark with hunger. "Shh," she whispered, placing a finger to his lips. "We have all night."

Just as she was about to descend again, a sharp knock. "Who's that?"

"Shh," she hushed him again, her hand moving to cover his mouth. She gave him a look that dared him to speak. "Ignore it. I'm not expecting anyone."

There was another knock, louder this time.

"Yes?" she called out, her voice breathless.

"It's Julie," she called back, her voice smooth. "Sorry to bother you, but I really need the Weinberg file. I'm almost done with the presentation."

"I'm in bed," Jasmine said, feigning a yawn. "Can I just email it to you in the morning?"

"I really need it," Julie insisted, her voice urgent.

"I'll handle this," she said to Nick, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Still to Nick, a conspiratorial wink flashing in the dim light. "Hide in the bathroom," she whispered. "Quick."

He scrambled up and hustled into the bathroom.

As soon as Nick closed the door behind him, Jasmine walked to his jacket on the chair, reached into the pocket, removed his room card and headed to the door. She opened it a few inches and handed the card to Julie.

Julie took in Jasmine's sexy as hell attire and the fact that she had the key card and mouthed, "You're amazing." Jasmine rolled her eyes and whispered, "Remember the room number?" Julie nodded, and Jasmine continued "I can give you about an hour."

Julie spun and headed off.

Jasmine closed the door. Nick heard the lock click.

A moment later he heard her call out, "She's gone; come back to bed."

Nick stepped out of the bathroom, the scent of Jasmine's perfume again embracing him, his head still spinning from the sudden interruption and her effortless handling of it.

She was waiting for him on the bed, a vision of elegant beauty, simply lounging against the pillows. The black lace of her bra and panties and the sheer stockings, creating a stunning contrast against the crisp white hotel linens. She beckoned him closer with a single, finger, and he went to her like a moth to a flame.

She was in no hurry. She set a pace that was agonizingly slow, bringing him to the edge and back repeatedly.

She pushed him back onto the bed, her hands beginning a sensual, deliberate massage. Her fingers glided over his chest and shoulders, her nails raking just lightly enough to send shivers down his spine. She worked her way down his arms, then back up to his chest, her touch shifting from a firm kneading to a feather-light caress that made his muscles quiver.

Straddling his hips, she leaned forward, her hair a dark curtain that tickled his skin as her mouth found his. The kiss was deep and hungry, a claiming. Then she moved lower, her tongue leaving a wet, hot path down his sternum, circling his navel, until she reached his straining erection. She took him in her mouth with a practiced, confident skill that was literally breathtaking. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head, her lips creating a tight, suctioning seal as she took him deep, her throat accommodating him completely. He groaned, his hands tangling in her hair, his hips lifting off the bed.

Just as he felt the crest of pleasure begin to build, she pulled back, her mouth leaving him with a wet, pop. She looked up, her eyes dark with a knowing satisfaction. "Not yet," she whispered, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Meanwhile the door of Room 821 clicked shut quietly after Julie entered with the borrowed key. She moved quickly through the room. Hers was a quiet, stealthy operation. She knew exactly what she was looking for: all the details of Nick Frazier's professional life.

Her eyes scanned the bed then the desk where he likely kept his notes. First she found a stack of business cards he had apparently collected on this trip. She placed them out in a grid on the desk and photographed each of them with her phone.

Next, she found a briefcase with a stack of notebooks, each labeled with the names of accounts. She opened the first one, and her eyes scanned a few of the pages making sure she had found what she was after.

Confirming that she had, she grabbed her phone again and then quickly began snapping photos of the contract details, renewal dates, all fees and proposed fees, contacts, next meeting dates. Most even had specific notes regarding problems they'd had & how they were resolved as well as comments about key people at the company and their likes and dislikes.

After photographing every single page, she set everything back just as it had been when she arrived. She then slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

She returned to Jasmine's room, but rather than knocking again, she silently slid Nick's key under the door before heading to her own room.

Inside that very room, Jasmine had now mounted Nick, had guided him into her, and began to hump, slowly and steadily. She rode him hard and fast, then slowed down, a look of intense focus on her face. She would build the sensation, bring him to the brink, and just as she sensed a wave of ecstasy washing over him, she'd stop, get off of him, then start over again slowly.

Every time she would pull back before he could finish, he groaned, louder each time.

Next, she began a slow, skilled hand job, her grip tight, her thumb rubbing the sensitive head. She brought him back to the edge this way as Nick closed his eyes, the long, slow build-up of pleasure now causing constant throbbing and leaking.

She shifted, moving to lie beside him, her body pressing against him, her grip firm and steady as she continued the slow, torturous hand job. She's in total control and allows her fingers to gently massage his balls between her gentle tugs. She again brings him right to the edge, pleasure building up in his groin, ecstasy building, straining for release.

She has him panting, his eyes closed, ready to fully surrender.

Jasmine glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and calculated how long Julie had been gone.

Her eyes confirmed her satisfaction. She had kept him enraptured for nearly a full hour, a testament to her skill and control.

She turned her head to look at Nick, who was still recovering, his eyes glazed with desire.

"Don't worry," she purred, leaning in to kiss his neck. "I'm not done with you yet."

"All you have to tell me, Nick," she teased, her voice dripping with honey and desire. "Is how you want to finish?" She gestured with her hand, her fingers wiggling in the air. "I can do it with my hands, just like before... or I could use my mouth." She leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick a drop of sweat from his forehead, before trailing lower, tracing a line down his chest to his stomach. "Or maybe you want me to ride you until you explode inside me." She climbed back on top of him and lowered her body, her pussy tight against his, ready to take him in.

He bucked, trying to push it in quickly.

She reached down and took his cock in her hand.

"Oh, inside me?" she teased. "Absolutely, if that's what you want..."

Her voice trailed off as her hand moved up and down his shaft, her grip tightening, She lowered herself down, and her hand guided him back into her. His breathing quickened as she finally deemed the time was right, her movements now becoming fast and demanding.

She squeezed and pumped him, her body moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. She looked him in the eyes and taunted him playfully, her eyes filled with mischief. "Don't cum yet, I want to see you beg."

But he had no chance of holding it back. With a groan, he bucked his hips, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as he finally came, his body arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. He erupted inside of her.

She smiled sweetly, her expression of mock pity as she looked down at him. "Or just go ahead and shoot, I guess," she whispered.

Nick's face flushed with embarrassment as he pulled away and sat up. "I'm sorry," he muttered, looking down at him.

She lay down beside him, draping an arm over his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. She nuzzled his neck, her voice was a soft, satisfied whisper, but he couldn't register at all what was said.

Jasmine then lay on her back, the sheets tangled around her waist, her chest heaving slightly.

"Why not clean up before you get dressed?" she teased, her finger tracing a line of stickiness across his skin. "You're a bit... sticky."

Nick blushed even deeper and got up

to head to the bathroom. As soon as he stepped in the shower, Jasmine's smile faded, replaced by the cool, calculating expression of a woman who had just executed a flawless plan.

She slid out of bed, walked over to her door, and reached down to retrieve the key card that had been slipped under a few minutes ago. She made her way back to the bed, pausing only to return the key card to the pocket of Nick's jacket and then getting back on the bed a few moments before the bathroom door opened.

Nick came out, now fresh and began to get dressed, his professional facade back in place. As he adjusted his tie, his eyes darted around the room. "Well," he said awkwardly, "I should get going. I have an early flight."

Jasmine reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Good luck going forward, Nick," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I'm sure you'll bounce back from this."

He nodded, a mix of gratitude and lingering humiliation in his eyes, and turned to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Jasmine let out a breath she felt she'd been holding, her eyes drifting to the empty doorway. She had him. She had his accounts, his secrets, and his desire.

And he had no idea.

Opening her e-mail the next morning, she found over a hundred pictures from Julie. Everything she'd need for a systematic theft of each and every one of his accounts.

Oh, she wouldn't do it quickly; that could be noticed. In fact, she wouldn't do anything for about three months. She had already gotten one from him on this trip and wanted the next one to switch to appear completely unrelated time-wise to this.

But then they'll start dropping, sometimes one per month, maybe two. She would even happen to "accidentally" drop some of the details of some of the accounts to some of her other competitors, kind of mentioning it by chance, "Can you believe they're paying Nick so much per month," she'd exclaim, giving the exact figure. Her competitors would assume the client had given the number and wouldn't think anything of it, other than the fact that Jasmine shouldn't have let it slip. Then they'd quickly approach with a better offer.

While Nick's accounts are dropping in a free-fall, it won't just be Jasmine taking them. That, along with her patient timing, should prevent anyone even considering she'd done anything unsavory.

Next year her commissions could quadruple & she'll be the talk of the industry.