Conference Liaison

It had been a hard day. All Michael wanted to do was have a meal and a glass or two of wine, a quiet stroll for the purposes of good digestion, and then settle in to his modest but adequate hotel room for a good night's sleep.

Tomorrow's programme at the conference looked heavy and his presentation was second on, so he wanted to be suitably refreshed and alert for that.

He changed out of his suit, washed and put on a clean, blue, Oxford-style button collar shirt. Rejecting a tie, he left it open at the neck and pulled on a pair of camel coloured chinos. Light tan suede loafers completed his evening's ensemble and he went down to the hotel restaurant.

He ordered his meal, chose a mid-priced but decent bottle of red to complement the steak, and took in his surroundings. Two north country businessmen were talking and laughing loudly in one corner, two tables were occupied by middle-aged couples clearly not staying there for business reasons and two trendy young women, who probably were some corporation or other's rising young executives, were engaged in conversation or maybe gossip over their starters and a bottle of Chardonnay.

As his soup arrived, so did a middle-aged woman, ultra chic and expensively dressed. Greeted by the headwaiter with kisses on both cheeks, she was ushered immediately to a corner table from which, Michael guessed, she could see the entire room without having to turn her head. She would able to see who was arriving, who was leaving and what everyone was doing as they sat there.

He was intrigued by the new arrival, but paid no further attention to her until he'd finished his soup. As the waiter arrived to remove the empty bowl, he turned to look at her. She looked straight at him and he immediately averted his gaze to call over the wine waiter, as if that had been his intention all along. He ordered a small bottle of still water and, having done so, gave another half-glance at the woman who was still staring straight back at him.

Michael made no further attempt to look at her, finished his meal and signed for it. Downing the last drop of wine, he left the table intent on his planned walk round the small but well-maintained hotel garden before turning in. It was a fine late Spring evening, a late afternoon shower having left the air feeling fresh and pleasant.

His journey from the restaurant took him through the reception area into a conservatory that ran the length of the building. He was just about to step out into the garden when he heard a well-modulated female voice behind him.

"Excuse me."

He turned to see the late arrival from the restaurant.

"Can I help you?" he asked

"I hope so," she said in an almost business like manner. "I wondered if you would care to have a drink with me."

For a moment, Michael was taking aback. He knew that among the younger generation it was quite normal these days for girls to make the first approach in night clubs and so on, but at the age of 44 he had thought any such circumstance unlikely to happen to him.

"I was just going to take a stroll round the garden," he said, realising as he did so that he probably sounded more than a little lame.

"Then I will come with you and perhaps you will let me buy you a drink when we come back," she countered, putting her arm through his and gesturing for him to lead the way.

They walked together in silence, though not an awkward silence Michael realised. It seemed a quite natural thing to do. As they walked, he shot the occasional glance at his new companion. Late 30's he reckoned, immaculately coiffured and made-up, expensively dressed with what he guessed was a pretty fit body underneath. The phrase "high maintenance" sprang quickly to his mind.

Their stroll round the garden took no more than 4 minutes in which time, they said no more than a dozen words between them – "lovely evening", " beautiful garden", "gorgeous flowers", and so on.

Stepping back into the hotel, she let go of his arm and stood in front of him almost barring his way.

"Now – that drink", she said, as if taking command of the situation. "My room?"

This time Michael was taken aback but found himself nodding in agreement. He was suddenly aware of an almost pubescent nervousness that he was getting himself into uncharted territory with no idea where all this was headed.

She – by now having introduced herself as Karen – obviously did.

In her room, or rather her suite as it turned out to be, she invited him to sit and disappeared into the bedroom. Less than five minutes later she returned having changed from her business suit into a long flowing and totally see-through nylon chemise. Michael tried not to stare but not help himself when he realised without any difficulty at all that she was totally naked underneath.

After room service brought their drinks – two bacardi and coke's – she gave him his glass and sat next to him on the sofa. Ruffling his hair with one hand, she undid his the top buttons of his shirt with the other, then leaned into him and kissed him. A long, slow lingering kiss. He kissed her back, quite unsure why this was happening, but in no way objecting to the fact that it was.

As they kissed his one arm was round her shoulder, the other resting on her arm until she guided it onto her breast. Through the thin nylon he felt the firm but yielding form and let his fingers stray on to her nipple. It was already erect, but seemed to jump at his touch.

"Oh, yessss," she gasped, "I love that. Suck it baby, please."

Michael gently pulled the chemise open and placed his mouth over her nipple. He let the tip of his tongue flick over it, and then nibbled softly on it with his teeth. His lips then covered it, sucking slowly and gently.

She moaned and was already playing with the other breast herself. Her head was back against the sofa and her legs were now apart. Michael lifted himself up for a moment, away from his breast teasing duties and took in the wanton sight next to him. She was lust personified, so sexually heightened that he felt as though he was just an accessory to the release she was driving toward.

She looked at him steadily in the eyes and without once looking away, she undid his zip and felt for his penis. It was ramrod hard and she smiled wickedly at him as she found it, squeezed it and let her fingers run up over the circumcised knob end.

The tip of her forefinger lingered over the pre-cum that was slowly oozing from him and she moved her hand out of his trousers and put the finger in her mouth and sucked the love juice off it and onto her tongue.

"Stand up," she ordered and Michael got to his feet.

She stood next to him and undressed him, he stepping out of trousers, boxers and socks at the relevant moments. Soon he was stark naked, his hard member sticking out before him.

She knelt in front of him and took it all in her mouth, sucking it noisily while her one hand cupped his balls and the other gripped his ass. He knew he wouldn't cum like this but it felt great and he wasn't going to stop her. She sucked and liked him for two or three minutes, then stood and took off her chemise. She still wore her 5" shiny spike heels and they clacked on the parquet floor as she took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom.

She turned with her back to the bed and kissed him again. Pulling away from him, she walked round the bed and climbed onto it. Spreading herself with her legs wide apart she played with her pussy, opening her lips and teasing her clit.

"Right," she said, "now fuck me."

Michael still couldn't believe his luck but he was going to ask no questions at this stage. That would come later. For now he climbed on the bed next to her, lifted one leg over her body and lowered himself toward her.

He felt her twitch slightly as his engorged cock nudged her cunt, but soon he was sliding in and it felt so good. So hot, so wet, so right. She was tight, but not too tight, and she used her cunt walls to grip him on each stroke in.

He established a rhythm and the bed rocked under them as he fucked her, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, until he knew he was going to cum.

"Ah, ah – ah, yesssssssss!" he yelled as he shot his hot, creamy spunk deep inside her.

She responded by riding and bucking back against him, and within seconds she was yelling in ecstasy too as she came, her juices mixing with his and oiling his cock as it lay still hard inside her.

They lay like that for a good twenty minutes. From time to time his cock would start to soften, but when it did she cunt wanked it back to life, leaving Michael gasping at the sensation which, literally, sent shivers down his spine.

Eventually, very slowly, she eased herself away from him, holding his cock with her hand as it pulled out of her. When it was completely out, she wanked him slowly and deliberately with her hand, looking at him through heavy, lustful eyes.

"Come on," she teased, almost whispering. "You can manage it again surely? Come on, cum for me. Let me feel your spunk building up inside you, then shoot it out all over me. Come on – cum for me. Cum for me now. You know you want to. My cunt felt good didn't it? Hot and wet and you filled it with your cock. Now throb into my hand. I want to feel it. Come on. Cum now..."

She continued talking, all the way staring at him with sultry eyes and a slutty half-smirk playing across her mouth. Michael knew he wouldn't last long like this and when he knew he was really close, he pushed her roughly back, forced her legs apart and drove into her, pushing his cock hard inside her cunt, the desperate need he now felt to fuck her taken to a new level by her attempts to stop in.

"No!" she yelled. "I don't want you to. I wanted to wank you. Don't you dare fuck me..."

He slapped the palm of his hand across her mouth and took her with as much force as his body could manage. He wanted this, regardless of her and he felt the cum well up from his balls into his cock and pump hard and long into her.

The second he was spent, Michael felt nauseous and instantly remorseful at what he had done. Yes, she'd let him fuck her half an hour before, yes she'd been teasing him by wanking him off, but now she'd said "no". He had raped her.

Her climbed off her panting, desperately trying not to throw up.

She was panting too, lying on her back, not moving.

Five minutes passed; they seemed like fifty.

Finally, she sat up and looked at him.

"So," she said, "that's what you like is it? That's what you really like, is it? Letting the woman know that you are in charge after all. Taking her by force. Raping her. Is that what you like? IS IT?"

"Er – I – er, no. Of course not," Michael was not far from tears; tears of anger as well as distress.

"Well, that's not how it seemed to me," she said. "I think you should go now."

"Yes, yes, of course. Are you alright? I mean, is there anything..."

"Anything you can do? Yes – GO! Go on – fuck off out of it, you filthy rapist!"

Michael gathered his clothes, slipped on his chinos and shoes and made for the door. Before opening it, he stopped and looked back at her.

"You know," he said. "It was exactly what you wanted. You read rapists who say that the woman 'asked for it' – but you really did."

"Oh," she replied, softly, "Did I?"

Michael said nothing and left the room. In deep despair that he had allowed himself to get into such a situation with a woman he'd never met before, he went back to his own room.

He washed, stripped and got into bed. It was a good hour before he fell asleep and then he only slept fitfully, waking every so often, feeling angry with himself and with her for the way she had led him on.

He woke early, feeling as though he hadn't slept at all. He showered, shaved, dressed and gathered the papers for the presentation he was due to make at the conference. He went into the restaurant for breakfast, thinking that he wouldn't be able to eat yet feeling amazingly hungry when he got there.

He opted for a full English breakfast with coffee and ate like he hadn't eaten in weeks. He glanced up as he finished to see her – his unnamed partner from last night. Partner? Victim, more like, if she decided to do anything about it.

She was again greeted with great ceremony and fuss by the staff and shown to the same table she'd occupied at dinner the night before. She glanced in Michael's direction, with not one flicker of recognition or emotion. He finished his coffee and left.

He made straight for the conference room, met the organisers and some of his colleagues who were part of the same presentation and ran through the programme and his part in it. He knew that a lot depended on his presentation, not just for the company but also for him personally. Promotions were in the offing and he was heavily tipped for a role in the boardroom. His performance had been noted and it had been whispered in his ear that the newly appointed Chief Executive wanted to see how he handled himself in public before confirming him as an executive director.

As the delegates arrived, he took his seat in the front row ready to be called up to the lectern when his turn came. The lights dimmed and the company Chairman was picked out on the platform by a bright spotlight. He cleared his throat self-consciously before speaking into the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your prompt attendance this morning. As you know, we have a lot to get through, including a review of the past twelve months, which has been absolutely outstanding. You are all to be congratulated, though you have now set yourself high standards and tough targets to beat in the year ahead."

His comments drew laughter and applause before he continued.

"As you know, one consequence of our excellent performance has been the retirement of Jim Smart as Chief Executive, who decided he'd get out at the top."

More laughter.

"We will be paying proper tribute and respect to Jim at our Conference Dinner tonight. Now though I have the very exciting task of introducing you to your new Chief Executive. Someone who has comes with the highest credentials and whom I know is going to lead you to even greater things. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new Chief Executive of our great company – Ms Karen Owens."

The Chairman led the applause as a middle-aged woman, ultra chic and expensively dressed, stepped onto the platform and into the spotlight.

Michael's his knees buckled and his solar plexus felt as though a sledgehammer had been pounded hard into it. The pulse in his head pounded, he felt the colour draining from his face and he suddenly regretted the full English breakfast.

Karen waited for the applause to stop and stepped up to the microphone.

"Good morning," she began. "It's good to meet you all. One or two of you I know already, and some I know very well indeed..."

As she spoke she looked straight at Michael.