Going under

When I got to work, I was repeatedly roped into meetings. Michelle was on vacation, so I had decided to actually do my job and cover for her. I briefly considered skipping out and seeing who Wendy was today, but that would break my theme. Wilson & Lowe, which had been the hottest ad agency in the area before I started having Power send us all the good clients, had contacted us to see if we'd be interested in a merger. They were about to go under and were looking to be saved. When they had called, Michelle had told them to come by and make a proposal, suggesting that they schedule something for her return in two weeks, probably planning to brush them off and scoop up any worthwhile talent after they went under. They had insisted on a quick meeting, however and I had asked to handle it. I felt a bit guilty, since this wasn't their fault (you can't compete against someone making people go to your competition), which is part of why I decided to do this myself.

"I know how much you dislike Barton Wilson, Tom. So do I." Michelle had said. "I know you'd like to really rub his nose in the dirt, but just be polite and smile as much as possible." Michelle was right about my personal feelings. Barton Wilson was one of those jerks who are all too common in advertising, flash and no substance, thought he was clever and rubbed peoples' noses in it, but lacked real intelligence and creativity, and he was a legacy too, parlaying his father's money into a fair-sized business without really working for it lime we had at our agency (before I put my hand on the scale, and even though we didn't have to I still made sure we earned our keep).

He had always been polite to me, because I was an important person in the area and people like him are always friendly toward anyone who might have something they could do to help them. He greeted me with all the fake charm and suck up smarm I was expecting. It wasn't Barton Wilson I noticed; I did my best not to, in fact. With him was a tall, coolly elegant woman in her mid-thirties, whom I had never seen before. "This is Elizabeth Brennan, from Lone Star Bank," said Wilson introducing us. "We thought it would be good if she joined us for this meeting." That meant Wilson was in deeper trouble than I thought. His bank had assigned him a monitor, which probably meant this meeting was his last chance. He might be one phone call away from done.

Elizabeth Brennan stood about 5'10", with a lean figure that was perfectly complemented by the severe lines of her business suit. She was consummately professional with short brown hair, blue-green eyes that saw through bullshit, and Gucci low heels. By the time we had shaken hands, exchanged hellos, talked about meaningless nothings, and made our way into the conference room, she was hot. It was the most I had spoken to any woman since I set my theme this morning.

"Would you like some coffee?" I asked her. She was breathing hard, eyes locked on me. She turned to and gave Barton a smoldering look; he probably thought she was angry about something, but I could tell she just wanted to get the useless speck that was between her and me out of the way. "Barton, could you leave us for a few minutes? I think Tom and I ought to... talk... privately for a few minutes before the meeting." said Elizabeth; I think I was the only one who caught the brief hitch in her voice.

Wilson started to protest; Elizabeth shot him a scathing look (she must not like him either) and after I nodded my head toward the door refusing to save him, he was gone. This woman held his fate in her hands; she could exonerate him or crush him, so he was only too anxious to please her. When he was gone, she hesitated just a little, the first time I had seen her not look completely confident, then moved tentatively toward me. "I think I sense something in you, Tom, and I want you to know that I'm feeling exactly the same," she said, coming right up to me and looking me in the eyes. She stepped up to me and put her arms around me, pulling me down to kiss her, at first lightly on the lips, then opening her mouth to insert her tongue when I did not pull back.

"I've never done anything like this," she added, stepping back and beginning to unbutton her blouse. "Neither have I," I replied (not entirely truthfully), watching the unveiling as I worked at undoing my own clothing. I was buck-naked by the time Elizabeth's bra was off, as she was taking care to neatly fold hers, in anticipation of needing to look proper again when we were done. I had just thrown my clothing on the floor. "Let me do the rest," I offered gallantly. I put my arms around her and pulled her close for another deep kiss, this time my hands roaming all over her back and down to her firm ass, feeling her through the gray twill of her skirt. Her hands, meanwhile, were doing much the same to my naked body. Her skirt was soon on the floor; she was too far gone now to care about wrinkles.

Her hand had grabbed my cock and was stroking it and my balls. I was stroking her ass, still encased in white silk panties, then slipping a hand under the waist to cup a firm globe and squeeze it, drawing a gasp from her. "We don't have much time," she said as she pulled off her panties daintily. I looked at her body appreciatively, lingering on the small breasts and the flat belly leading down to a full but neatly trimmed thatch. Her long shapely legs were encased is sheer white stockings, emphasizing her finely muscled thighs. "There's always time to do the job right," I replied, pushing her lightly onto the edge of the conference table. She tried to get up on it, but I held her back and knelt between her legs to pull open her pussy lips and insert my tongue. "Let's get on the table, I want to do you, too," she said after a few licks.

I got up and lay down on the table while she squatted over my head, positioning her pussy over my face, then leaned down and took my cock in her mouth. I was lapping up he juices greedily, and worked a finger, then two, in and out of her vagina. Her hips were driving down on my face in the same motion as her mouth was on my cock. She fucked my face harder and faster as she got more excited, sucking my cock equally hard and fast, accompanied by small whimpering noises that increased in volume and intensity as she neared her climax. She was holding it down (though of course she needn't worry; I had set up a 'don't notice the sex noises' rule for the entire building when we moved in). When she came, it wasn't a noisy orgasm. She just made a whimpered louder, letting go of my cock, tensing slightly, and then going totally limp on me, biting her lip to hold in anything louder.

I entered her slowly as she lay on me. I slid into her easily, then we embraced for a long kiss, continuing it through our first few slow strokes as she came back to herself and got into it. She was very turned on, and her nylon-clad heels were soon pulling me into her hard, urging me to fuck her harder and faster. I rolled us over so I was on top to have better purchase, and the table shook as we thrust our hips at each other. The only sounds in the room for the next several minutes were our grunts of exertion and passion and the loud slurping sounds of my cock entering and exiting Elizabeth's ultra-wet cunt. She was not one who could talk coherently during sex, and if there were any words in there I couldn't make them out. I was driving into her, her hips pushing back at me, as we both felt our imminent orgasm. I pulled her close and slammed down into her as hard as I could as her pussy gripped my cock with her orgasm, and I shot deep into her.

"I guess we ought to let Wilson come back in," she said, after she had caught her breath. She got down (not noticing she was magically cleaned up), and began reluctantly putting her clothing back on. "I take it you don't think too highly of your client?" I asked, joining her in redressing. "The guy's a half-wit," she snorted as she knelt to work her skirt back up, giving me a great view of her shimmying ass in the process. "We're not going to merge with them," I told her, as she got her bra back on. "We have nothing to gain by taking a train wreck. We're just waiting for them to go under and then cherry-picking the few good accounts they still have," I told her honestly. It was what I had meant to do anyway, albeit more indirectly; I didn't feel so guilty about my part in this as to help Wilson, just his staff. "That's what everybody at the bank figured," she said, Buttoning up her blouse and trying to smooth it back down as it had been. "He told us he could work a deal with you guys. Said you might want a merger 'just to get him into your company, because he has a good name in the business'," she said, making air quotes. I snorted derisively, making her smile. "Anyway, the bank asked me to tag along and keep an eye on him. I'm glad I did," she added, leaning over and kissing me again. We were both now basically presentable, and the room cleaned up thanks to Power. Of course no one would notice anything out of sorts if we had continued the meeting in the nude, so this was no issue.

"Who's your bank? Maybe we could work together," she said, reclaiming her business-like demeanor. I saw the transformation go over her, form amused and friendly lover to all business again. "Finance is out of my area," I replied, matching her seriousness. "But I can introduce you to our guy after." We invited Wilson back into the conference room. I was politely noncommittal through the meeting and a half-hour later Barton Wilson left knowing that there would be no saving deal. I kept my promise and introduced Elizabeth to our finance department head, Jason, then retired to my office, noting that Wendy was a beach blond in a red spandex one piece bathing suit today.

Based on "My Reward" by Azil