Business Dinner

22...23...24...

As I watched the numbers rising on the elevator display pad, I checked my appearance in the chrome doors. My brown skin felt clean and smooth after a hot shower followed by lotion and light cologne, and my dreads were oiled and lay evenly around my face. I wasn't sure of the dress code, so I decided to play it safe and dress museum professional; black suit, white dress shirt, and a black-and-white striped tie.

35...36...37...

I checked my watch. The invite was for 9:00 and it was 9:10, I hate to be late, but with traffic and it being the weekend, I didn't feel so bad.

48...49...50. The car stopped gently and the elevator doors hissed open with a chime, revealing a marble hallway with monogrammed, frosted glass doors at the other end. I crossed the hall and opened one of the doors, and was greeted by a tuxedoed maître d' holding a clipboard. I gave my name and that of my party, and he directed me to the bar.

The bar was occupied by two people at the near end, one of which I knew. Angela was a lawyer I met at the gallery, tall, blonde, 40-ish with tanned skin and a gym trained body. We'd casually hooked up a few times early in our acquaintance but had settled into a relaxed friendship.

"Hello, handsome," she said, giving me a hug and a peck on the cheek before introducing me to her companion, Mike, a large man with a firm handshake and a tight smile.

"So, what's all this about?" I asked.

"I have no idea," Angela said. "Roger called and said to meet him here."

"Me too," Mike said. "I got the same message."

"So did I," I said, and ordered a glass of wine. "I didn't even know he was back from Europe until he called me. Where is he anyway?"

Angela shrugged. "He's probably waiting to make his entrance, you know how he is."

Roger was a businessman I met when he and a group of his clients came into the museum where I work and requested a tour guide. I took them around the exhibits and I guess I impressed him, because he gave me his business card and told me to call. We hit it off, and hang out socially when his schedule allows it. I'm not sure what his actual business is, but it's an extremely lucrative one, from what I can tell.

We all chatted and sipped wine and before long, Roger glided into the room, tanned, silver haired, elegant in a charcoal grey pinstripe suit and open-collared white shirt. He spotted us at the bar and came over.

"Hello!" he said, kissing Angela and shaking Mike and I by the hand.

"There he is!" I said, genuinely glad to see him. "How was Europe?" I asked.

"Oh it was incredible, one of the best trips I've taken. Actually...the trip is what inspired me to get you all together."

"So what's the occasion, Roger?" Mike asked.

"Let's discuss it over dinner," Roger said.

He nodded to the maître d, who ordered a waiter to guide us through the darkened room past candlelit tables humming with conversation, to a large alcove near the restaurant's center wall. The table inside was surrounded by a gathered drape that could be pulled across for privacy. We took our seats across from a breathtaking view of the city skyline outside the window wall on the other side of the restaurant. I looked around and recognized faces from local television and city hall amongst the diners. This place was as fancy as it gets, and I would never have thought to come here if Roger hadn't invited me. I sat opposite Roger. Angela was on my left, Mike on my right. Once seated, I noticed one place more than we had people, near Roger's place at the head.

"Roger," I nodded, "Why are there five place settings?"

"There's one more guest who'll be joining us later," he said.

Our waiter filled our wineglasses, and at a nod from Roger, left after drawing the privacy curtain closed.

"I guess you're wondering why I called you all here," Roger began. "Well, it's because I'm starting a new venture. I'm creating a non-profit to place art in public places across the city and I want you all to be a part of the project."

We all congratulated him and he smiled.

"Angela, I'm going to need a general counsel to deal with the city. So far things are going well but you never know when a legal snag may turn up."

Roger produced a small note pad and a silver pen from his jacket pocket. He clicked the pen open and wrote out a note.

"Now I know you're busy with your practice," he said, "but I'll make it worth your while."

He tore the sheet out of the pad, folded it, and handed it to her. Angela opened it and nodded her head.

"I accept," she said.

"Wonderful!" Roger replied, flashing his smile.

Angela smiled back, and then a strange expression came over her face. Her eyes widened, then closed and she was moving in her seat. A low sound came from her throat and for a moment I thought she was choking, but remembered we haven't been served yet.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"I-I'm fine," she answered, and poured herself a glass of water. Apparently whatever happened passed.

"Mike," Roger said, "I spoke to your old boss."

"Uh-oh," Mike replied, "what did he say?"

"Very good things. He told me you were one of the most efficient business managers he had." Roger's pen flew across the notepad again. "I could use a business manager to handle the day to day business while we indulge my creative goals." He passed the folded note to Mike. "How about it?"

Mike accepted quickly, but his expression didn't match that of someone getting a new job, he seemed worried, surprised, as if trying to process what was happening. I guessed it must have been a very lucrative offer.

"I'd like you to be the artistic coordinator," Roger said to me. "You'd keep aware of new artists; persuade them to contribute works to the project." Once again, the pen raced across the notepad.

"There will be some travel, expensed of course, but I think this is something you can do well."

He passed me the folded note, and I opened it. Roger was offering me a salary that would pay me more in a month than I would make in 3 at the gallery. I quickly accepted the offer.

"Excellent," Roger replied.

I was in the midst of drinking to my good fortune when I felt an odd sensation on my leg. After a second, I recognized it was a hand, moving up my left calf. At first I thought someone was playing a practical joke on me but Mike was too far away, and Angela was close but had both hands around her wineglass.

The sensation was soon joined by another on my right leg. Two hands, travelling up my thighs until they reached my fly and began to stroke me there.

In spite of my shock, I was getting hard. The hands found my zipper and I got a glimpse of them. They were pale, slender, manicured, with purple polish on the nails. They were female, which I have to admit relieved me a great deal. The hands unzipped me then reached into my pants and found my penis, pulling it free from my underwear. I felt a tongue sliding up from the base to the tip, and then warm soft lips engulfing the head.

It felt like this mouth was made to suck me. It was pulling, licking, nursing me, the tongue providing a cushion for the underside of my dick to rest on. I looked around the table to see if anyone could tell what was happening but they were all chatting and drinking. All except Roger. He was engaged in the conversation, but I caught him looking at me over the rim of his glass with that sly smile he'd worn all night, and right then I knew he was responsible. Evidently this was some form of test I was undergoing, although I wasn't sure why or what was expected of me.

So, there I was; fifty stories up in the ritziest restaurant in town, getting the most amazing blowjob of my life. I tried to keep my composure as best I could and croaked out an occasional sentence or two to stay in the conversation, but mostly I concentrated on remaining still while the mouth below me moved up and down, sucking and licking, coaxing precum out of the slit in my penis and drinking it down. I didn't know who she was and right then I didn't care.

Her pace accelerated, and I couldn't hold out any more. I came, hard. Every drop of come in my balls rushed into the warm soft mouth under my table. The lips tightened and the suction on me increased. I could feel my dick throbbing as 3 thick jets flew out of me, followed by smaller ones as my orgasm overtook me. By some miracle, I never cried out, but I buried my face in my hands and closed my eyes until the storm passed. When I came back to earth and opened my eyes, everyone was staring at me and smiling.

"Now you know what we had to go through," Mike said.

I couldn't speak. My body shuddered involuntarily as I felt a kiss on the head of my shrinking penis, then it was tucked back into my pants and I was zipped up again. There was a shifting under the table, and a woman emerged to sit at the place next to Roger.

"Well, our final guest is here," Roger said, kissing her cheek.

When I saw that my pleasurer was indeed a woman and attractive, I was relieved. She had jet-black hair cut in a chic asymmetrical bob and when she shook it and smoothed it out and turned my way to take a glass of wine, her face became visible. Her features were elfin, delicate and familiar. She had that combination of juvenile playfulness and adult sophistication that only foreign women can pull off.

Suddenly I recognized her, and the shock almost made me drop the glass of wine I was holding.

"Everyone," Roger started, "I'd like to introduce-"

"Martine Gerard," I interrupted, once I could breathe.

Roger laughed. "Marcus, since you know our guest," he said, "why don't you do the honors?"

"Martine Gerard is one of the most talented artists in Europe," I said, barely over my astonishment. "Her work examines and celebrates the role of sensuality in the modern age. Her sculpture, Bliss Explosion, won the jury prize at Art Basel last month."

"That's where I met her," Roger said. "Her work captivated me, so I arranged a meeting. Once I explained my vision, she was eager to contribute, and meet all of you. In her own way."

"It is indeed a pleasure to meet you all," she said to us. I imagined my cum clinging to her vocal cords and began to get excited again, then realized that Mike's, Angela's, and presumably Roger's were there also.

"I am fascinated by the sensual in life and I try to translate that into my work," Martine explained in heavily French-accented English. "Of course, society does not allow sexuality's free expression everywhere, so we have to seize the opportunities whenever possible." She nodded at me and continued.

"As the young man said, I feel that sexuality is the most beautiful form of human expression. I thought that by demonstrating this I would give you an idea of the spirit of my work. And bond us for the work we will do together."

I couldn't argue with her logic, and began to wonder if this principle couldn't be applied to other forms of business.

"This is the only artistic decision I'll make without you, Marcus," Roger said to me, "but I felt that Martine would be the perfect debut artist for the project, provided you have no objections."

"I totally agree," I said, and Roger flashed his smile at me.

"Well, now that we're all in agreement," he said, "let's eat."

Roger stood and opened the curtains. Servers appeared, and soon the table was alive with sumptuous food, flowing champagne, and stimulating conversation. It was a wonderful night, and anyone looking in would have seen a group of business associates laughing and debating, never realizing the hedonism that lay the foundation for this good humor.

The night began to wind down and Roger, in perfect host mode, provided a benediction.

"I want to thank you all for accepting my offers. I have to say this has been the most fun business dinner I've had in a long time."

"Not the best?" Angela asked.

"Well, it could be. I've reserved a suite upstairs if anyone would like to continue the evening."

"Yes, you must all come!" Martine insisted. "There are many things we should explore."

We all looked at each other, and mischievous laughter broke out among us. It was understood that we would all be going.

"Hell, Roger," Mike said, "with incentives like these, you'll going to have the most loyal staff in art history."

"That's the idea. But before we go, I'd like to propose a toast," Roger said, and we all stood, raising our champagne flutes.

"To new ventures," Roger said, as we all touched glasses, "and new pleasures."