Fucked Stupid

Nigel Haverstone of Haverstone Tech knew better than to stare at girls sat on their own at the bar of a foreign hotel. Chances are they were after something. Usually money in exchange for a quick party in your hotel room. Or the promise of a party in your room, slyly exchanged for a roofie, a banging headache the next morning and all your valuables cleaned out. Or so he'd heard. No, a quick drink in the bar to relax for the night, in preparation for his big meeting the next day, was all he needed. Nothing that might risk business, or cause an embarrassment with the wife and kids back in London.

Still, he couldn't resist stealing another furtive glance at the girl sat by the bar, as long as she didn't notice. She really was a looker. Just the sort that stoked his boiler, as it happened. Maybe all of twenty-one. Super slim and athletic, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, with legs that went on for ever, all set off by a stretchy micro-dress that showed every contour. Those breasts looked a perfect handful too, and in proportion to her slender frame. He'd never understood the penchant amongst Eastern European and Russian girls for replacing their small, natural breasts with silicon bags bolted on the front like a couple of gaudy Christmas baubles. Two fried eggs weren't his thing either, admittedly, but gently rising mounds cradled in his palms were his idea of heaven. A heaven he'd love to visit this evening, if it didn't come with such risks.

Whoops! He'd lost track of just how long he'd been staring at her, and she'd caught his gaze. He looked away, flustered. He mustn't give her the wrong idea, or there might be an awkward conversation to be had. Stare determinedly at anything but the bar for a while, and hopefully she'd dismiss it as a chance glance, he thought.

Nigel took another sip of his drink and thought about what had brought him here. The company had been through a rough time the last couple of years, what with dwindling contracts from the EU and pressure on costs. He might have founded the business and built it into the multi-million pound venture it was today, but there were rumours that the Board might try to oust him, if things didn't turn around soon. Then out of nowhere, he'd learnt of an opportunity out here in Russia to snap up a competitor at a bargain price. The tip-off had come through a rather shady channel, and seemed almost too good to be true, but his initial enquiries had suggested it was genuine. A lot rode on this meeting tomorrow. If it went well and he managed to set the ball rolling on an acquisition, he might just turn his fortunes around.

As he pondered likely outcomes, he downed the last of his gin and tonic. He looked to the bar and realised the only available space to get served was next to that girl. If he wanted another drink, he was going to have to risk walking right up to her. Oh well, here goes. What was making him so frisky? Maybe it was the thought of getting that near to such an incredibly beautiful girl. Girls like her would make his nervous system jangle in close proximity. He strode over, squeezing up to the bar, all the while keeping his gaze steadily away from her.

"Hi! Would you like to buy me a drink?" came a voice to his right. If there hadn't been just her sat to that side, the way that Russian accent had reverberated through his body, from ear to groin, would have left him in no doubt as to who was asking.

"No, it's fine. I don't need company tonight, thanks," Nigel replied. He barely looked in her direction as he spoke, desperate not to engage.

"That's not what I asked," she suggested, teasing him. "I've finished my drink. I thought you might buy me another. I'm sure there's a gentleman here will be kind enough, if you won't."

"Oh, sorry. Of course," Nigel stuttered, disconcerted. He hailed the bartender. "What would you like?" She beamed at him, flashing even, white teeth, and lighting up the prettiest, most delicate face he thought he'd ever seen. Her eyes, he noticed now, were piercing blue, a striking contrast to the brunette hair.

He never could resist a beautiful girl's smile, and instinctively smiled back, like the village idiot, unable to wipe it off.

"The same again, thanks. So, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm just here on business. And you?" Now he really felt the idiot. What a question. What else would a beautiful Russian girl be doing, sat on her own at a bar in a Moscow hotel?

"Business too," she replied. Oh well, that was frank, he thought. "Not that kind of business!" she continued, as if reading his mind. She looked shocked, but mostly amused. There she was teasing him again.

"I'm Valeria," she said, holding out her hand to him.

"Nigel. Pleased to meet you." He took her delicate, slender fingers in his. An involuntary tingle ran through him.

Nigel was intrigued. What kind of business might she be on? Modelling assignment, maybe? He could imagine a few feminists getting hot under the collar at that suggestion. Just because she was a beautiful young woman didn't mean her only option was to sell her looks, they'd say. It might be her best though, to his mind. In his own company, there wasn't a woman could hold a candle to her. Only plain-janes went into IT. Even more so in the rarefied atmosphere of AI development. There were precious few female coders working for him. Because the deck was stacked against women in his line of work, and most others, the feminazis would go on to say. Nigel suspected they just didn't have what it takes. He knew some thought him a sexist, but he was just a realist. It took a particular kind of brain to do the really high end stuff. It wasn't that women weren't intelligent. They could certainly be wily. But brilliant like him? As if.

There was one woman at his company who thought she was, of course. Anna Brightman (oh, the irony), Head of Acquisitions. She'd blazed a trail up through the hierarchy, from intern to Board, in unfeasibly short order. There were rumours she'd resorted to some shady tactics in doing so though. Blackmail, threats, sexual extortion. Maybe that was all so much gossip, the product of resentment at her success. But he didn't like her, to put it mildly. Harvard-educated, she clearly thought she deserved to be at the very top and nobody else measured up to her. Yes, that meant even her boss. There were hints that attempts to oust him had emanated from her. He'd outmanoeuvred her so far though, and pretty soon she'd find herself out of a job entirely, once he'd consolidated his position again. More fool her for not getting in on this acquisition before he'd spotted it.

She'd even tried to make a move on him once. A married man like him. Ridiculous! So he enjoyed playing away here and there, but with her? She was fit enough, and a step up from the wife, maybe even not unattractive, if that was possible for a woman in her mid thirties, but, honestly, didn't she realise he could do a whole load better, and did frequently? He didn't feel like stating the obvious, so he'd given her the cold shoulder. She'd persisted. To dissuade her, when he knew she was looking, he'd made a play of ogling the PA (hottie, twenty years old), while she was bent over the shredder. "Oh, I get it. You have a soft spot for young women, Mr Haverstone. I'll keep that in mind," she'd said.

Nigel was woken from his reverie by the barman handing the girl beside him her drink. "What kind of business are you in then, Valeria?"

She looked at him and smiled sweetly. She moved in closer, as if she were about to share a secret, and spoke quietly.

"I work for an agency that gets hired to do the dirty on influential and wealthy men. I fuck their brains out. I mean almost literally. By the time I'm finished with them, they're so frazzled they'll do just about anything I ask. I'm highly trained and very good at it. It's such fun. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing some self-styled master of the universe reduced to my little sex slave, losing everything he's built in life because I wiggled my butt at him. They always think they're too smart and too powerful to succumb. But I always get them. Every time."

Nigel snorted. "Huh! Every guy? Okay, you're hot. I wouldn't jump into the sack with any little hottie though. Particularly one who so overrates herself. You could try, but not all of us are that easy." He gave her a sardonic smile as he finished. Who was she kidding? He felt annoyed. Admittedly, he wanted to fuck her all ways, but he'd never give her the pleasure. He imagined for a moment that it might be fun to get between her legs and prove to her he could fuck her brains out long before she did his. But no, enough of that! Things were starting to grow down below at the thought, and he was worried she would notice.

Valeria smiled. "Who said you'd get the chance?"

The tease. It unnerved him. He wasn't sure he liked the way the conversation was developing. Her assertion was ridiculous. Who would be gullible enough to believe there were girls trained in fucking men's brains out? And even if it were true, why would she confess to it? But he had to admit something about her story was turning him on. God, he'd love to be fucked senseless by a girl as gorgeous as her. Given an orgasm so intense, it would blow his brain wiring. Just not the slavery after, the lost business and public shame. Best extricate himself from this conversation before things got more uncomfortable. "Well, it's been nice meeting you, Valeria. Good luck with your business!" he proffered, those last words edged with sarcasm. With that, he turned awkwardly and walked away, towards the elevators and his room.

Getting back, he kicked off his shoes, dropped on to the bed and lay there for a moment, wondering if he was ready to sleep. He'd hoped that couple of drinks would have eased his anxiety about the next morning's meeting, but instead events in the bar had left him more agitated than he'd started. He couldn't get the girl from his mind. One more drink in the privacy of his room, along with a bite to eat, might do the trick. He picked up the bedside phone and ordered room service.

Maybe if he rubbed one out while he was waiting, that would help. No, there wasn't long enough. He might get caught in flagrante. He slipped his hand under his belt and into his trousers, feeling his cock through the jersey of his underwear. It didn't need any encouragement though. He was horny as fuck, and the image of that girl drifted into his mind unbidden. Think of someone else. His PA bent over the shredder, skirt stretched over that taut arse. He'd got to slam it later too. God, she was a fit little hottie. He rubbed a bit harder at the thought. There was something about doing girls from work, knowing he was abusing his power over them. She might have thought she'd get ahead, giving him head from under his desk of a lunchtime. Or maybe she didn't dare say no. Either way, he'd fucked her, literally and metaphorically. He knew word had got around at work that he was playing the field, and knew they liked and felt sorry for his wife, but nobody was going to disturb her marital bliss. Fucking women over was what he did; and quite right for a man of his standing.

There was a knock on the door that woke him with a jolt from his musing. Damn, room service. Panicked, he quickly pulled his hand out and snatched a magazine from the bedside table to cover the bulge in his trousers, just as the waitress entered with his order, placing it on the desk at the foot of his bed and leaving. He heard the door swing to, and swing open again.

"Sorry, sir. I've forgotten something," she said, only her voice had become more familiar. Nigel's heart jumped. It was the girl from the bar! Sure enough, he looked up to see her standing in the entrance to the room, a grin on her face. "I thought that would surprise you!"

"What are you doing?" He was alarmed, but oddly excited too. For all he knew, she might be about to jump him with a knife. Or jump on him with that body. Either way, he felt exposed.

"I thought we could continue what we started in the bar. I could tell you were interested."

"No. I made it clear I wasn't." Nigel squirmed, acutely aware of a cock that was getting stiffer still, and wondering if he sounded remotely credible.

"Your lips said so, but other parts said otherwise," she said, glancing down mischievously at the magazine covering his crotch. She beamed that heart-melting smile again. "Besides, I have business with you."

"Business?" he asked, furrowing his brow. He knew exactly what she meant though, and his heart was pounding. At the same time, his dick had twitched unexpectedly and pushed uncomfortably at his underpants. What was going on? He couldn't just lie there passively, so, tent in his pants or not, he had to get her out, and quick, before this got out of hand. He sprung up, ready to force her out, if need be.

"Yes, you're my business tonight. It's going to be fun!"

"Get out!" He half meant it too. She had some arrogance, thinking all she needed to do was walk into his room and he'd roll over. Just because of a smoking body and angelic face. "Take your business elsewhere! I don't do it with sluts."

On cue, she looked him in the eye and peeled her dress down off her body. "Fuck!" he thought, as he eyed the bra and panties that revealed. Lacy and dark blue, the perfect complement to her long brown hair and blue eyes, the olive-tanned skin. This was getting dangerous. He wasn't sure he could resist a body like hers.

"Do you want to have some fun?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you! You think that dropping your dress and flaunting that body at me, I'll start banging you like a panting dog, or something? Okay, you're kinda hot, but you're kidding!" Nigel forced a laugh, as he ran his eyes over her.

"Kinda hot?" She grinned.

"Yeah. That might work on every other man you try it on, but not me. Besides, you've already said what you do, and you're not doing that to me... You're talking crap, anyway".

"But that's half the fun of it. I love to tell guys what I'm going to do to them, just to watch them trying to resist. They climax so much harder too when they finally give in. Come on! You know you want me."

That was the trouble. Nigel knew only too well. He could feel it in the stonking bulge in his underpants. He wanted nothing more than to grab her and fuck that slim, tight body every which way. He mustn't though. It was ludicrous, this story of secret agencies and sex slaves, but something told him she was trouble, that if he had sex with her he would live to regret it. Or maybe he wouldn't live at all. There was something dark about her. Besides, her arrogance had irritated him; as if she could flutter her eyelashes and men would fall at her feet. So right now she was doing considerably more than fluttering her eyelashes, but he wasn't going to give her the pleasure of proving irresistible. Not him. He wasn't a prude, but he didn't get his dick out for any girl who flashed her knickers.

Valeria took a step towards him. Nigel instinctively took one back.

"Oh, come on! What are you frightened of? A slip of a girl like me?" she mocked. She took another step. He stepped back again, feeling the edge of the bed against his calves. She closed the gap between them and placed a hand on his chest. He could feel the warmth of her body now as she spoke: "Wouldn't you like to kiss me? Just a kiss. You can leave it at that. Or would you be unable to resist going further?"

"I'm quite capable of resisting your charms, thanks," Nigel said, with a strained laugh.

"So?" she asked, her mouth moving ever so slightly up towards his, her full lips parted.

"No!" he replied, plaintively. Why did he feel like a deer in the sights of a game hunter right now?

"Just one birthday kiss then!" she suggested.

"Ha, it's not your birthday!" he snorted.

"But it is," she pleaded, her eyes wide with innocence. "Look, forget all that nonsense I told you earlier. I was feeling lonely. It's my birthday and I wanted to feel special. One kiss. That's all. You wouldn't begrudge a nice girl like me a birthday kiss, would you?" Valeria looked up at him with the best butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth smile she could muster.

He knew she was talking bullshit, that she would try anything to get things going, in the belief he'd want more once he'd tasted her, and there was still a hint of sulphur in the air, but he could kiss her once, show her it was nothing and put an end to this nonsense. To be honest, he could almost feel that mouth on his already, and those moist, pouting lips were too much to miss out on right now. He bent forward and Valeria planted her mouth on his, moving her hand up to the back of his neck to pull him in. Her lips were even fuller and softer than he'd anticipated, and for a moment he was overcome by their gentle pressure, her delicate nose brushing his, her perfume, and her tongue beginning to probe and tease him. His hands slipped round to feel her waif-like waist, as both hers cradled the back of his head and pulled him in for a deeper, more passionate kiss. That body! He could feel the ribs of her back and marvelled as his hands almost encompassed her waist and taut, flat stomach.

What was he afraid of? She was firm, but delicately feminine, no match for his wiry masculine frame, if push came to shove. Her hands were still at the back of his head and her long fingernails lightly scratched the back of his neck, but then they began to roam across his body and down to his hips and legs. One found its way to the front of his chinos, where it massaged his now rigid dick through the fabric, while the other slipped around the back and squeezed between his bum cheeks. A surge of pleasure shot through his groin at the unexpected intrusion, and he involuntarily leapt upwards a little, melting more into her kiss as he did so.

Enough was enough. He was getting more worked up than he'd expected. He could see where she intended this to go, and he had no intention of letting her get the better of him. He broke off and went to push her away. To his surprise though, instead of doing so, she stayed in place and he pushed himself off her body, tripping himself on the bed behind and falling backwards on to it.

"Oh, sorry! I think I might have got an elicit substance on your neck while we were kissing. You're probably finding you've lost a bit of muscle control," Valeria proffered.

No kidding. Nigel felt discombobulated as she fell on him on the bed. He thrashed around, trying to throw her off, but his arms and legs were mushy and no longer quite his own, while she moved with surprising agility and strength. Before he knew what was happening, she had twisted and pulled him on top of her, long legs wrapped around his waist and locked behind his back. Her hands were fumbling with his trousers, and he felt his belt and zipper unfastened faster than he could react. A moment later, she was grasping his dick through his underpants and slowly massaging.

How had he ended up in this position so easily? One moment, he'd allowed her to kiss him, the next he was lying on top of this hottie, her hand gradually stoking his desire. He tried to raise his upper half off her, but that only seemed to serve to push his groin down into her hand, increasing the pressure on his cock. He was getting too turned on for comfort. If he didn't get out of this quickly, he was going to end up fucking her, and he didn't want to find out if what she'd told him earlier was true.

He figured he had enough strength in him still to hurt her, if he had to. He moved both hands to her neck, hoping a little choking would persuade her to let go. Instead, she arched her neck beneath his hands, as if inviting him to squeeze harder, and gave his cock a firmer squeeze.