The Offer Pt. 02

I turned and watched as Ms. Whitmire walked away from the table. She had the hips of a middle-aged woman, but the walk of a thirty-year-old. She must have known I was at her ass, yet she never turned back.

Once she'd left the bar, I immediately finished her whiskey, looked at my watch, picked up my own glass without drinking anything and then looked at my watch again. I knew the time wouldn't go any faster if I continued looking at it, so I removed it and put it face down on the table in front of me.

I took off my suit coat, folded it in half and placed it on the chair next to mine, before loosening my necktie. I took a sip of whiskey from my glass and picked up the watch from the table.

Eight more minutes.

I set my watch back down and told myself I wouldn't look at it again until after I'd finished my whiskey.

Things like this don't happen in Iowa.

I guess this is my introduction to corporate opportunities in the big city.

I finished my whiskey in one gulp, picked up my watch from the table and strapped it to my wrist. I still had five minutes. Next, I put my jacket back on.

What does a woman like her want in bed?

All I really know came from a couple drunken after bar nights in my dorm room at Washington University.

She's married, so he is gonna recognize my lack of experience.

Rather than wait, I decided to kill time by checking out the hotel gift shop near the elevators. Before leaving the table, I fixed my tie. Then I walked over to the bar, paid the bar tab with the company card, and placed the card and signed receipt in my wallet.

In the gift shop, I mindlessly scanned the headlines of the International Herald Tribune, then the Asahi Evening News. Instead of buying either newspaper, I picked up a roll of peppermint breath mints and paid for them with some change I had in my pocket.

* * *

I chewed up the breath mint before knocking on the hotel door. Ms. Whitmire opened the door and stepped back to let me in, then closed it behind me. She'd drawn the drapes and left the lights off. It was dark, but still light enough to move around. Two crystal glasses waited on the dresser, where she now stood.

"One more." She poured a double into my glass.

She turned to me, "Tell me. Jerry, did you finish the rest of my drink too, or were you too shy to put your lips where mine had just been?"

"No, I mean yes, Ms. Whitmire, I finished it."

"Good."

I took a big gulp, knowing that I'd need the whiskey's numbing effect to keep from coming the moment I got into bed with her. Just the thought of her breasts was enough to get me hard. Now, with my eyes dilating, I was able to see more in the half dark room. With the effects of the whiskey kicking in, I felt less self-conscious about looking at her eyes or her breasts, still covered under her red blouse and navy-blue blazer.

However, she quickly made it clear we weren't going to jump straight into bed, by sitting down in an armchair in front of me. Just like that first meeting in her office on Wednesday, she sat there without saying a word. I stood there in the hotel room waiting for her to inform me of what she wanted. Despite literally knowing where I stood now as opposed to then, I was still the mouse.

She asked me several work-related questions that required detailed answers. It was difficult to think with an erection and an alcohol induced buzz -- not to mention the flood of hormones racing through my bloodstream. As I answered her questions I realized I was beginning to slur.

So that's it. She's gauging how much I can hold. Maybe she's also checking whether I can stay professional in a place that isn't.

When my glass was empty, she stood up, touched my hand, took the glass from me, and set it on the minibar.

I was clueless about what to do next.

"It's really raining hard today, isn't it?" I said like a high school freshman on his first date.

She stepped forward and placed one finger across my lips and looked at me for a moment.

"Make yourself comfortable, Jerry."

She took me by my arm and led me to the bench at the foot of the bed.

She took off her blazer, so I removed my jacket.

"You can hang them in the closet," she said, handing me hers.

When I came back to the bench, she reached up, loosened my tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt.

"Now, Jerry," she said, "take off the rest yourself, slowly."

Does she mean the shirt, or everything?

She stood watching me with her arms crossed. I stripped down to my briefs. The room wasn't dark enough to hide the bulge in them.

I let her look me over the way my clients inspected a new Selectric typewriter.

"You know, Berkemeyer would have kept his undershirt on," she said with a laugh.

Am I supposed to laugh too, or say something back?

As I nervously contemplated a response, I heard her say,

"Everything, Jerry."

I looked at her and saw her nodding at my briefs.

I was embarrassed, so I turned my back to her before taking them off.

"You're not hiding anything from me, are you, Jerry?"

"No, I'm not, Ms. Whitmire." I was afraid she'd think less of me for getting an erection so easily.

"Jerry, when the lights are off, it's Arlene. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Let me hear you say it."

"Okay, Arlene," I said, my voice higher than I meant it to be.

I felt her hands slide across my shoulders and down my back. I stood there holding my breath, listening to her breathing get louder. A second later, I heard a quiet sigh and felt the side of her face against my shoulder blade. By now my heart was pounding in my chest.

She slid one hand around my waist and firmly took hold of me. The touch of her hand made me rock hard.

"So, this is what you were hiding. Like I told you, Jerry, you're a terrible liar. And I'm holding the evidence right here in my hand."

She slowly slid her hand up and down my length. Within ten seconds I started groaning loudly and couldn't stop myself from making even louder noises. Perhaps she recognized them for what they were, the sounds of a man losing control, because she abruptly stopped stroking me and stepped back.

I welcomed the reprieve, though I hoped her hands would come back soon. Her touch was so arousing, and I wanted to feel her stroking me again. I wanted to come, knowing that even if I did there was plenty of time for several more rounds that afternoon.

"Turn around, Jerry. Let me look at you."

I started to turn.

"No. The other direction."

Left, right, does it really matter?

"Slower."

I turned slowly.

"Stop right there."

Oh, now I think I get it. She probably just wants to tell me what to do.

She put her hands on my chest and moved them like she was polishing the hood of a car. It turned me on even more than when she had her hands on my back. I was so horny that I was beginning to think I might finish even before she even started stroking me again.

"Arlene," I said, looking down, hoping to catch her eyes, but they were still fixed on my chest. This time she laid her cheek against my chest. I heard her moaning quietly, her breathing deepened. Once again, she reached down and firmly grabbed me. Next, she began stroking. I sighed loudly.

She stepped back and stood, once again with her hands at her sides, once again. She was still completely dressed, and I was grateful. If I'd felt her breasts against me, or even seen them, it would have been over.

She looked at me now, staring as if I were an object in a museum, something she was almost afraid to touch.

No client had ever looked at a Selectric like that.

"Arlene, I--"

"Did I ask you a question, Jerry?"

"No."

"Then what makes you think I want to hear you talk?"

I didn't answer.

She stood transfixed in front of me in a way no woman ever had. And I realized I'd never actually stood naked like this in front of a woman before.

No wonder it feels new.

She stepped forward and took hold of me again, but this time she didn't move her hand. She just squeezed me hard to prevent me from losing it too soon. She moved closer and kissed my chest and my stomach. A moment later she was on her knees, kissing the head of my dick. She ran her hand down my shaft, closed her lips around me, and I thought I felt the room move. Then I realized it was whiskey. I wasn't really drunk, but I was drunk enough.

I looked down and watched my shaft disappear into her mouth.

Lucky I'm drunk, or I'd have come already.

I reached down and touched the back of her head. She immediately swatted my wrist away like a mosquito.

"Don't touch me, Jerry. Just don't touch me."

I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong.

Maybe that's something only college girls let guys do.

She sounded angry, but she kept moving her head, and it felt incredible. She began moving her hand in rhythm with her mouth, and it became almost unbearable. I could feel myself about to come. I exhaled, grunting.

"Arlene, I'm--" I tried to warn her.

She wouldn't stop. Instead, she moved her hand and head faster, and I came hard.

"Ugh."

Oh my God, that was incredible.

She slowly drew her head back and kept moving her hand a moment longer, before taking her mouth off me completely.

She sat back on her heels for a moment and looked up at whatever look she saw on my face.

I stared back at her as she stood, took me by the shoulders, and turned me until we'd switched places. And it was my turn to watch. Arlene unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her shoulders one sleeve at a time.

"Hang this in the closet, Jerry. When you come back, I'll have something else for you to hang up."

Next, she handed me her skirt. "Hang it over the back of the chair. The cloth one, not the wooden one. I don't want it to crease."

I went to the chair as she'd requested. When I returned to her, I stood there looking at the black merry widow she was wearing. It made every curve of her body appear finely sculpted, barely containing her large breasts. She saw me staring. Only then did I realize I was still naked.

She turned her back to me and asked me to unhook and unzip the black silk garment. I unzipped it about halfway down which was as far as it went. Then turning around, she slid the straps off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor where it pooled at her feet. Unabashed, I stared at her D cup breasts and large nipples. Her body wasn't like that of a college girl, but was instead the body of a woman who was comfortable in her own skin and more sensual because of it.

The thought of touching her caused my blood to surge. Just as I was about to step toward so I could pull her against my chest, I heard her say,

"Okay, Jerry. Now it's your turn,"

She climbed onto the bed, lay back and spread her legs.

I lay down between her legs and put my mouth on her. She sighed and let out a low moan.

Good, she likes what I'm doing.

I began licking her everywhere.

"Slow down," she practically yelled, firmly grabbing my head and guiding me where she wanted my mouth to be, shifting her hips as well.

Finally, I'm doing it the way she wants.

"Stop, Jerry," she said.

"Just tell me what to do, Arlene, and I'll do it," I said, panicking. "Please let me start over."

"No, Jerry, now you've ruined the mood."

What did I do wrong? I did it the way she asked me to.

"Get up, Jerry, and walk over to my side of the bed," Arlene said. She sounded like my high school principal, Mrs. Stanwick, and it reminded me of getting called down to the front office at Davenport High.

I stood there at the side of the bed like she instructed.

"See this, Jerry?" She reached out and grabbed my dick with her hand. "This is the problem. Now go take a cold shower and think about that."

Before I entered the bathroom, she said, "And shut the door."

I took a shower, but it wasn't cold and I did what I had to do to ensure that I wouldn't return to bed still hard. When I was rinsed off, I turned on the cold water and spun around a couple times so that if she touched me she would know that I'd used cold water.

The lights were still off when I returned to the bedroom.

"Come back to bed now, Jerry."

I went over, got into bed, and lay down on my back beside her. I didn't move, because I didn't want to make any mistakes. That's when she turned her back to me and said, "Hold me, Jerry."

I turned and pressed my body up against her.

"Oh, your body is cold. Don't touch me with your hands yet."

Was that a test, or did she really want to be held like most girls? Good thing I turned the cold water on at the end.

It felt good to feel her warm skin against mine. After a few minutes of lying there awkwardly against her with my hand on my own leg she asked me to put my arm around her. She held my hand in hers up against her chest.

So, first she doesn't want to feel my hand, and now she does?

Regardless, I was surprised at how good it felt to hold a woman again, especially one who wasn't just skin and bones.

After a few minutes, she released my hand and turned towards me.

"That was good."

"Yeah, it was. I... I mean it felt good to hold you, Arlene."

"Now, Jerry, listen. I want you to do something for me. Follow my instructions and do exactly what I say, no more and no less. Got it?"

"Yes, Arlene, I got it, just tell me what to do."

"Jerry, you already said that. Now relax." She leaned in and kissed me softly, so I kissed her back softly. And I felt her tongue gently touching mine as we kissed. Nobody had ever kissed me like that before and it felt great. Perhaps it was too intimate for the first time because after about thirty seconds, she broke off our kiss, rolled onto her back and pulled me with her.

She put her arms around my back. With nowhere else for my hands to go, I leaned to one side and slid my hand down her thigh, intending only to rest it there.

She immediately pushed it off her leg.

"Now, go down on me, Jerry, and I want you to take your time getting there."

I didn't kill the mood by asking any questions. I started kissing her neck.

"Softer, don't leave any marks."

So, I kissed her shoulders instead, dotting her collarbone with little kisses. I heard a long slow sigh from her at that moment. Her body relaxed underneath me, and I ran my fingers down the outside of her arms as I kissed her upper chest. I felt the rise and fall of her body as I took my time exploring her with my hands just as she had done earlier with me. I placed my face in her cleavage, inhaled and sighed against her skin as I exhaled. She arched her back slightly.

I felt her soft skin against my lips as I kissed each of her breasts, and she gently placed her hand on the back of my head. I took my time before kissing her nipples and sucking on them as they hardened. I started playfully biting them. She gasped.

"Don't bite me."

I slowly made my way down her abdomen, and heard a giggle escape her lips as I kissed her navel.

Probably tickled...

From there I moved my face all the way down between her legs. I kept my hands moving, while listening to her breath and the sounds she made, so I could tell when I did something she liked. She said to take my time, so I did.

I positioned myself between her legs and ran my hands along her thighs before placing the first kiss on her inner thigh.

She gave my head a hard shove closer to her knees.

Message received.

This time I slowly worked my way upward. As I got closer to where she wanted me, I heard her breathing hasten. She inhaled deeply in anticipation.

When my mouth finally found her, she softly took my head in her hands, let out a deep moan and held me there for a moment before removing her hands and letting me begin eating her.

"Longer, slower licks this time."

I felt her hands in my hair guiding my mouth to where she wanted it most. First one side, then the other.

As I continued pleasuring her, I heard the wind and spattering of rain against the hotel windows.

I felt her hands guiding my head lower where she wanted me, shifting her hips in the process.

My neck began cramping so I subtly shifted my weight from one forearm to the other and she continued guiding my head with her hands.

I tried to get rid of the kink by kissing her slightly higher.

"No, not yet."

I retreated lower and kept my head in that position for about another thirty seconds before she shifted her hips and pulled my head back up higher to the same spot she had refused me earlier.

"Hmmm," she said and I heard her inhale deeply.

She pulled my head closer, tilting her hips up at the same time. The moment my tongue found it, she arched her back.

"Right there,"

I didn't move despite the growing kink in my neck.

A moment later she threaded her fingers through my hair, pulled me closer, let out a low and long moan and I immediately felt tiny spasms against my tongue.

"Faster," she said pulling my head by my hair.

"Ooh, yes," she cried when she came completely undone and I felt her thighs quiver against my shoulders.

It took her a moment to regain her breath and when she had I rolled over onto my back, waiting to see if she would lay her head on my chest or put her arm around me. Instead, she lay on her back breathing deeply until she caught her breath. That's when she abruptly stood up, wrapped a sheet around herself, walked into the bathroom and seconds later, I heard the shower.

When she emerged from the bathroom, instead of returning to bed, she wasted no time getting dressed. Once dressed, she turned on the lights, walked to the windows and pulled open the window drapes. Instead of sunlight filling the room, I saw nothing but a drab rainy August afternoon.

I watched as she walked over to the desk, picked up the receiver and dialed a number.

With her back to me, she spoke softly in a tone I'd never heard her use before. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm on my way."

She went over and stood in front of the elegant standing standing mirror in the corner near the door. After checking her hair, she simply said, "The Yamanaka account is yours, Mr. Ramish. It's a new account with huge growth potential. I expect you to fully capitalize on it, because I'll be held accountable by the board for assigning it to you. I'm sure you understand what that means, Mr. Ramish."

"I won't let you down, Ms. Whitmire."

She paused briefly, looked back at the bed, clearly noticing my erection under the sheet, then checked the time on her wristwatch. Without a word, she turned, opened the door and left.

That's it?

I looked at my digital watch. It was 2:17 p. m.

I suddenly remembered the receipts.

My signature is on every one of them. Perhaps, leverage...

* * *

When I arrived at the office Monday morning, the Yamanaka account folder was on my desk.

On the way back to his desk from the water cooler, Berkemeyer stopped and turned before passing me.

"The Yamanaka account? Funny, last quarter Whitmire said she'd be assigning that to me.

"Maybe it's a performance thing," I said, surprised at my own confidence. Berkemeyer didn't move but I could feel his eyes behind me.

"It's like in a football game. You hand the ball off to the guy who's got the most momentum," I said, nodding my head at the sales leader's board on the wall.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself, Ramish," Berkemeyer said, and walked away.

Once he'd returned to his desk, I opened the Yamanaka file and slowly paged through the account. On the last page was a Post-it note:

Something's changed. Tuesday, 7 PM. Tokyo Business Hotel, Shinjuku.

Inside the back cover of the folder was a company card with my name on it. The Post-it attached to it read:

Preapproved.

* * *

End of Part Two...

The story continues in Part Three...