Ideal Suburbia Ch. 09

We must have looked like quite the sight as Monique's favored waitress Tina poked her head through the curtain just then. She goggled, then oggled at my cock as it slid from inside Gretchen when I turned to stare at the interruption. "Looks like everyone is thirsty in here," she observed, with a big smile that said she enjoyed looking at all three of us.

"Water," I croaked.

"Me too. And a glass of chardonnay," said Monique, much more in control of her voice than me or Gretchen.

"I need a large Budweiser," asserted Gretchen around Monique's tit, which she had refused to release from her lips.

"Looks like someone just had a large Budweiser in her," muttered Tina, as she backed out through the heavy curtain.

Gretchen laughed, and looked up at Monique, at last releasing her lips' determined suction on her nipple. "Alright, I will stipulate that the odd dick here or there may make an acceptable change of pace, at least until I find the right woman to settle down with."

"Don't go for the odd dicks. Go for the good ones. But all good things in moderation--an occasional man is enough." replied Monique archly.

I drove Gretchen back to her office and her car in companionable yet awkward silence. My mind was racing, wondering how I let myself get I to this position. I was physically incapable of regretting the events, as the evening had been one of the sexual highlights of my life, possibly even exceeding the threesome I had with those two cheerleaders from our big rival university, back in my college days. But this had not been my plan, and I had no idea how I should proceed from here.

Gretchen likewise seemed introspective, but as we neared her office, she turned suddenly to me, placing a hand gently on my right thigh. "Listen, I've been thinking," she blurted. "We have a problem."

No shit.

"Tonight was literally mind-alteringly good, but we can't keep doing this. You can either keep making sales calls on me and my firm, or you can occasionally stick that surprisingly pleasing dick in me in new and interesting ways. I owe it to my company and my employees to do one or the other."

She then withdrew her hand from my leg and looked at me silently. At that moment, we pulled into her company parking lot, and I pulled over near her car, taking a deep breath. She had given me a solution, albeit an agonizing one.

"Wow. That's a gut punch!" I sighed, letting some genuine anguish color my voice. I temporized for a moment, then hung my head and said, "then I guess I'll have to call your assistant next week and set up our next sales call. We're back to presentations and Power Point. An occasional lunch maybe?"

"Really?" She exclaimed, a little hurt and a lot of surprise in her voice.

"Look," I hastened to reassure her, "you are genuinely gorgeous, and you pretty much broke my brain tonight. Hell, when you put your hand on my leg just now I got stiff as a board all over again. The back half of my brain wants to drag you into the back seat and make love to you again right now." Her eyes widened, then flashed a speculative look toward the back. I rushed on to forestall any ideas.

"But just like you, I have professional responsibilities to more than just myself. I owe my boss, my company, and my co-workers my best efforts. Hell, I owe YOU, as my potential customer, my best effort. So back to sales calls it is," I finished, dropping my head in honest frustration.

Gretchen just stared at me for a moment. "Damn," she said. "I never for a second expected that to be your answer." There was a definite tone of regret lurking in that sentence, but mostly she sounded impressed. "But if you are that committed, I have to respect that. Come back in tomorrow morning at ten, and we will choose some initial business for you. Show me that CKE can be as committed as you are in the coming months, and we'll talk about it all."

I literally imagined a record scratch sounding my head at how suddenly things had changed from bleak to amazing. "All of CKE will demonstrate its commitment to your company's needs, Gretchen," I said, offering a firm handshake.

"I'm sure you all will," she replied, but did not let go of my hand. "But since we sign this deal and revert to a dry, professional relationship tomorrow morning, let's talk right now about that back seat of yours...."

I managed to time it just right to meet Cathy as she came into the lobby two days later. I said hello, and she asked what was up. I handed her a PO from Gretchen's company. Not a big one, but it was a toe in the door. Cathy looked at me in frank amazement. "How did you do it?"

"Well," I said, "Expect a lot of screaming from Audrey in Finance later today. I forgot to warn her before I submitted my expense report.

"You fucking did not!" said Cathy, scandalized, but good-naturedly so. The woman respected results.

"I took my prospect to a legitimate local cabaret..." I began parroting my line from the first time I pulled a stunt like this, with a more conventional client.

"Man, I did not expect to see you going to a male strip... wait a minute. Was it the same damned club where you got Gus's ashes hauled? With all women dancers?"

"It turns out that is the way the client mostly goes," I murmured.

"Son of a bitch. That makes it easier to understand why I could never connect with her. I kept taking about men, while she was just staring at my ass."

"The client actually had words on that very subject..." I smiled.

"She. Did. Not!" said an even more scandalized but slightly flattered Cathy. She took a deep breath. "According to the rules, you and I are veering into the kind of conversation we cannot have."

"I'm sure the client would be happy to go over it with you herself, without me," I dared to add.

"I will definitely leave this client to you. You just find out exactly what she wants and tell me exactly, so that I can roam the halls of Production and Fulfillment with a flame thrower to ensure everything they do for her is exactly to the letter. I want a lot more than this one PO."