An Edgy Meeting

Before I start, I want to give Credit where credit is due:

First, I want to thank my editor - HentaiKitten - for her help on our very first collaboration.

Second, my thanks for the inspiration for this story by Will_The_Thrill and tescaline as we conversed in "younger women for older men" on a quiet Sunday morning.

*****

Karen Martinez started her presentation. The topic: the acquisition of the Inverness Building on third street. She had negotiated the right of first refusal for her real estate company but the timing was very short. Thomas Crawford, the fifth-generation owner of the company, sat impatiently at the head of the conference room table. His mood was dark as he said,

"Well, Miss Martinez, what the hell are you waiting for, we all have a lot of business to do, to make this month and you've said nothing since the opening slide. What the hell are we here for?"

She cleared her throat, then she looked at her phone with horror.

That's when it started. It was commotion in motion and no one can truly say how it all happened. Her cell phone rang: A complete violation of meeting etiquette at Crawford and Associates. No meetings, with partners or with clients, are to be interrupted by phone calls, ever!

The ringtone was, sadly, La Marseillaise - the French National Anthem - with the first few words:

Allons enfants de la Patrie,

Le jour de gloire est arrivé!

It repeated, over and over again: "Arise, children of our country, the day of glory has arrived!" and the room fell even more silent. The last words spoken by Thomas Crawford "...What the hell are we here for..." seemed to be answered.

He stood tall, at over six feet with a sculptured, athletic build, weighing in at under two hundred pounds, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit. He walked, in no more than two long strides, around the table to Karen Martinez's end of the table, picked up the phone, turned one hundred and eighty degrees towards the open window and threw the brand new iPhone7 out the tenth story window of the late nineteenth-century historical building Marcus Atilius Crawford had built at the apex of the company's early success, Back in 1892.

Karen watched in horror. "But..." is all she got out, as she watched her new phone sail out into space like a poorly thrown curve ball. It wobbled, turned and cleared the open window by only a fraction of an inch but - sadly for her - it cleared it and was hanging, like Wile E. Coyote in the old cartoon, above the void. Then it fell out of sight.

"You are fired Ms. Martinez." began Crawford, "I did not want any retort for your unprofessional behavior. You know the rules. You violated them all. You have wasted my time. You have wasted the time of your colleagues and you brought a phone into the inner sanctum, our sanctum sanctorum - the holy of holies in our business - where we plan our strategy, our takeovers and our mergers and now you add 'but...' to this imbecilic activity. No more." He said, pointing to the door. "Please leave."

Karen Martinez got up, humiliated beyond words, tossed the computer controls to Megan Reyes and without a word, moved out of the room and was never seen again. Megan, up 'til now Karen Martinez's assistant, was shoved into the center of attention. Megan, a very capable real estate analyst, aspired to this moment; but not necessarily in this particular way and at this particular time. She fidgeted just a bit as she started to gather her thoughts.

"Megan?" Asked Thomas Crawford. "Are you ready to do a bit better?"

"Yes."

She stumbled over her words just a bit and quickly added, "Yes, Sir."

It was at that very moment she noticed it. Her heart sank. Under the wireless keyboard, lay her iPhone. She was not sure if it was on or off. She was not sure if it was on vibrate or full volume. Her job was very important to her and to her three children. Megan was a single mom and could not afford to miss this opportunity.

She took the keyboard from the conference table. She slid it just well enough that the phone, under it, was dragged off the table and she caught it with her thighs. Her miniskirt allowed her to quickly push it higher between her thighs to ensure that if there was any sound, it would be muffled.

"Mr. Crawford," she started, "the Inverness building on third street is severely run down but the structure is in excellent condition and we believe we can turn the first three floors into commercial business space, the next seven floors into office space and the top ten stories into single floor condos that - in this market - could sell for $1.5 to $3 million dollars. The first five condos we sell will cover the cost of the buildings and..."

That's when it happened for the first time. Megan coughed. The phone, fortunately, was on vibrate. It hummed once, twice and a third time - the option she had put for e-mail messages. She coughed again, reached for some water and continued "...and the rest of the condos will pay for all the construction and upgrades, leaving us with the monthly income from the commercial spaces and our maintenance fees, plus any mortgage income we handle.

It happened again. It was not more than a minute or two and the phone vibrated again and again and each time, her now sweaty thighs allowed the vibrating phone to move. It moved upward, in her thighs. She was mortified.

"Miss Reyes, do you have the zoning requirements included in your analysis?" Thomas Crawford asked.

The phone buzzed again, this time for several long seconds. She tried desperately to think but it was hard. She fidgeted.

"Miss Reyes?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, I had to think for a moment. Miss Martinez handled that and if I am correct, the zoning board will accept a hearing to allow mixed usage. I'll," she stopped, then she coughed or laughed something that sounded much like, "Ha!" But then she composed herself and said "Hm. I'll put that on my list, Sir."

Andrew Scoggins, the Executive Vice President in charge of construction asked "Who do you prefer for this project? Are you thinking of hiring a general contractor or do you want my group to handle it for you?"

Megan was not thinking clearly at this moment - the phone was vibrating to an incoming call and that meant it kept on vibrating. The humming agitated her thighs and her thighs were clamped together very tightly since she was holding the phone, so that meant that her sexy lady parts were forced to feel the vibration. At first it was just a bit distracting, maybe a bit annoying but now - with the phone call coming in - the vibrations moved further up the scale and were treating her stimulation receptor to very sexy, delicious sensations.

"Ah..." she stammered, "Mr. Scoggins, I think it is best if you make that decision since Miss Martinez is no longer with the company and I was just her assistant." She moved an unruly lock of blond hair from her face with a well-practiced blow of air from her upturned lower lip.

"Megan, ah, Miss Reyes, the profit analysis and cost analysis is done by the sales team and that is now you on this project. You have to let me know and quickly, what you want done." responded Scoggins, leaving the work totally in her lap.

Scoggins looked deep into Megan's eyes, and she thought she noticed a bit of a sadistic smile in his eyes. She must be imagining things, she told herself as she responded, "Mr. Scoggins, if you'll be so kind as to allow me 'til this afternoon, I will let you know."

The phone stopped vibrating for a moment and she took a deep breath, one that Scoggins and Crawford took for aggravation, and they jumped on her.

"Miss Reyes, the Real Estate business is a cutthroat business and if you can't make up your mind quickly, because you've not done your homework, I'll be happy to find someone else to run your project." Crawford said in a very, very low voice.

Megan had always known that barking dogs don't bite, it is the quiet ones you must fear the most. Her phone started to vibrate again. At first, she thought it was just a single text message or the announcement of the voicemail but no. It was an incoming call. She felt the vibrations caress her clit softly, like a tender tongue lapping for pleasure's sake.

She looked at Mr. Crawford as this delicious sensation passed through her mind, and she imagined him doing this to her and she wanted so badly to spread her legs and let the sensations - inappropriate sensations - take her anywhere they wanted. 'NO!' she shouted in her mind.

Megan's steely gray eyes darkened and her forehead furrowed, as she looked back at Mr. Crawford and said, in a slightly higher pitched voice, "Sir, I have done my homework on the project. We can afford to pay the cost of an external construction company and free up ours for projects with greater opportunities. If, on the other hand, there are none, then this project will have an even better," she stopped and sighed as the phone stopped its infernal vibration. "...it will provide even more profit." She finished.

Her ex-husband and Megan had played the 'edging' game for hours on end and she knew that she could withstand it but that was many years ago. Her fantasy of being put on a conference table was just a fantasy. She was happy to be a housewife, mother to her children and the occasional sensual and sexual flirt with her husband's friends. This was totally different. She could no longer ignore the fact that she wanted to keep her job and the sexual arousal was driving her into a wanton sexual fantasyland.

Scoggins looked at Megan, then over at his scheduling manager and asked,

"Randy, what do you think? Do we have the time to do the demolition work on this project?"

Randy Marlow was looking at his tablet and moving some schedules around; he looked up to see Megan squirm again, he thought she was nervous and hurried to give an answer. He noticed that Megan's nipples - typically professionally hidden under her blouse and bra - were actually showing a bit of a dimple on her rose-red colored silk blouse.

He found what he was looking for, cleared his throat to avoid showing that he had been staring at Megan's nipple domes and said,

"I think not only do we have time for the demolition but we can do the condo work and leave the commercial structural work for a general contractor. That would allow us to maximize our profits and not waste our time doing things anyone else can do."

Crawford followed Marlow's logic and his eyes. He also noticed that Megan was a bit aroused and he dismissed it as due to the excitement of expecting herself to become a project manager for the company - where the real money was.

The phone rang again for what had to be the tenth time. She was starting to worry that it was her kids and that something was completely wrong at home. But they knew her phone at the office. If someone was hurt, her secretary would bring the message to her. It continued to ring and her body absorbed the vibrations, guiding them to her clit and letting her spiral upward. Her belly tightened and she felt herself go from fear to that naughty pleasure. She knew it was her sensual hormones kicking in, blinding her to fear and driving her to the heights of naughty pleasure.

"Megan," Crawford interrupted her phone-driven reverie, "Have you talked to Legal about the contract and when they will have it ready for me to review?" But Megan only heard "...review" and now she was scrambling.

His eyes were boring into her: or were they? She noticed that his normal trick of looking at a speaker's mouth was off, he was looking lower. The trick, one typically used by women who do not care to look into a man's eyes, is to look at their lips. You read their words and you are not intimidated by their eyes.

In her first week on the job, she noticed that Mr. Crawford always looked at a strong persons' lips, not their eyes. He did so even when he towered over them and she wondered what it meant. This time his eyes were a bit lower. Why? she asked herself.

"Megan?" Crawford asked again.

Jillian Crawford-Masters, the Executive Legal Counsel, spoke for Megan, "We'll have it ready for you right after this meeting. Karen had us review it." Her eyes moved from Crawford, her younger brother, along his line of sight to Megan.

The phone rang again and this time Megan was squeezing her thighs even harder. She wanted to strangle whoever it was that was calling but she wanted to let the energy of the vibrations push her over the top. She was both mortified and aroused by the thought of having an orgasm in front of all these people.

Her mind was on fire and the damned phone stopped vibrating. She was so close. She ached for the vibrations to start again. She wanted Mr. Crawford to take the deal and to celebrate it by thoroughly fucking her right on this table. She wanted Mr. Scoggins to stuff her mouth full of his cock and cum deliciously down her throat. She needed Randy. Oh, god, how long had she craved to feel Randy's lips on her neck, on her collar bones and on her own lips. She wanted to feel his tongue slip into her mouth and caress hers. She needed Randy to whisper into her lips how much he wanted her and then kiss his way down her neck, her cleavage and down her two-hundred sit-ups-a-day flat belly to her sexy chevron shaped pointer to her deliciously wet cunt. There, she said it, for the first time, she had a cee, u, en, tee, cunt - what a beautiful word, for Randy to shove his tongue into.

The phone vibrated again and she made eye contact; lustful, steel-gray eyes smoldering with need, watching Mr. Crawford's soulful, brown eyes; eyes that till this very moment had scared her. She wanted him inside her with every motion of the phone between her legs.

"The contract," she half coughed, "Mr. Crawford," she said in a sultry voice, "has a few items you're going to want to watch carefully. If they are not written properly," she paused to feel her inner warmth and wetness but then continued "we can be on the hook for any Environmental Protection Agency problems the old owners created. Further, sir -" she added with hunger in her voice as the vibrations continued, "you should look at the financing aspect of this project. If I read this correctly, you are going to pay a premium for the loan, that a company the size of yours and as financially solid as yours, should never have to pay." She finished and her eyes were begging him to fuck her.

Crawford cleared his throat. "Are you alright, Miss Reyes?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm perfectly fine. I'm very excited, even aroused, by the opportunity to make this company a lot of money and with the integration of the acquisition of this high rise into my accomplishments."

Randy Marlow stared at Megan, "Anything our team can do to lubricate the right gears, just let us know."

Megan wondered what Randy's breath would taste like in the morning. She wondered if he'd mind her occasional fun in someone else's bed. She imagined his body claiming hers and their careers climbing to the very pinnacle of...

Her reverie was cut short as the phone stopped ringing. She now vibrated on her own.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss at this time?" Mr. Crawford asked, as he cleared his own throat. The tension in the room was thick but it was not the mood he had originally put everyone into, making an example of that stupid iPhone ringing in his meeting room. He cast a glance around the room and all heads nodded to the negative - all but one.

Megan looked up at him, her eyes pleading for something. The phone was once again vibrating between her legs and she needed release. She had achieved the approval she wanted from Mr. Crawford but now she wanted more.

She needed more.

She deserved more.

"Is there..." Crawford paused a moment, his eyes taking in the humble but blatant need in Megan's eyes, "Is there anything else we can do for you, Miss Reyes?" he finished and swallowed hard. Others in the room started to stand up and walk away. Crawford, Marlow and Scoggins remained behind, fixed to their chairs.

The phone vibrated again and Megan looked at each of them in turn.

The thick conference room door shut with the sound of a heavy wooden door. The soundproofing of the conference room was very good.

Her eyes reveled in the imposition of her lust upon them. She showed each in turn, through the heat of her eyes, the cauldron of sensual appetite they represented, how close she was to the edge of the precipice and the majestic fall into orgasmic oblivion that was on the other side. Her tongue wet her lips sensually, invitingly, almost pleadingly.

"Yes, Mr. Crawford," she whispered to all of them, her eyes caressing the deep mahogany wood of the ancient conference table. The luster as perfect as her own waxed private parts she no longer wanted to keep private. The phone vibrated again and again and again and with each buzz she edged closer to the precipice.

Her voice dark with desire, she finished her statement, "I would like to review the schedule very carefully and would like to do so with you and with Mr. Scoggins and with Mr. Marlow." Her eyes closed but not quite in time to hide the fact that they had gently rolled back into her skull.

Her mind sank into the pleasure only edging can bring to an orgasm, making it all powerful. It started slowly, almost gently. Her body quivered, almost like reacting to a chill. She enjoyed the small wave that moved through her.

"Oh, God!" she whispered so softly that no one should have heard her, as her head fell onto the chair's back, and she pushed herself into greater comfort. The men sat very still. They looked at her quietly.

Every man there was entranced by her desperate moment of complete honesty; one simply cannot hide the tormenting pleasure of waves of orgasmic bliss. Everyone could see her skin flush, her body ripple with pleasure.

Megan needed to claw at something, she needed to ground herself or this orgasm was going to take her away from sanity into uncontrolled, wanton bliss. She clawed at the armrests of her chair but the grip was only half what she needed. Her hands, no longer controlled by her conscious mind, moved up her flat belly. They clawed at her rib cage. Unsatisfied, they moved further up till finally her hands cupped the orbs of her breasts and squeezed.

"Oh, yes!" she moaned hoarsely.

Deep guttural sounds wrapped themselves around her world and she squeezed harder, pinching her nipples through the fabric of her blouse and the protective covering cups of her bra. She wanted more and the fabric got in the way.

The eternal vibrations continued to drive her upward. The momentary pauses were now insufficient to allow her to only edge. She kept on climbing, closer and closer to the edge of that blessed precipice.

She lost herself in the next moment. She was almost to the final level of self-control and complete sexual decadence. She unbuttoned three buttons of her blouse with one hunger-driven tear. Now she cupped her breasts, but there was still too much fabric in the way.

"Argh!" she grunted, hating the bra with a passion not seen since the nineteen sixties when women burned their bras. Megan understood. She clawed her hands into her bra, pulling her soft flesh up and out and her B-cups fell to the side and her thumb and pointer finger squeezed at her nipples in heavenly bliss as the stimulation sent her the jolt of ecstasy she needed.

She sensed the men holding their breath as they watched her lose control. They were transfixed and the pure, unadulterated, honest lust fed her hunger for her climax. She could think of nothing else at this moment but her need to cum. The vibrations picked up again.

Large. No. Gargantuan waves of orgasmic energy flowed out of her belly, down her legs and up her torso, reaching to her very extremities. Her toes curled but her fingers squeezed her nipples like vices clamping down on a workpiece. She needed that orgasm.