Mergers & Acquisitions

"Take off your clothes and we will play my game," he suggested.

"What game is that?"

"You know prime numbers?"

"I minored in mathematics. So that means 'yes'"

"Are you on the pill?"

"No. Any my diaphragm is in my room."

"Perfect. The game is: I get a prime number of strokes bare inside you. Then you get to suck me or stroke me the same number of times. Then you name the next higher prime and we do it again. If I lose it inside you, you get to keep my sperm. If I lose it outside you, you get the job."

"Hmm... it's a little risky. I'm not sure I'm up for squeezing out a Billy-shaped varmint." But she was shedding her blouse already. The slacks would go next...

"It is very risky for both of us, but I like to give a tough interview. If you name the wrong number, then I won't stop and," he made a sound with his lips and gestured over his belly a big round shape.

"I've never liked round numbers," she said. She was down to her bra and panties. He was stepping out of his boxers, leaving him, incongruously, in his socks.

She released the bra, doffed the panties and laid back on the bed with her legs together.

"This comes with a substantial increase in responsibility, I hope."

"Oh yes. If you win, a substantial raise as well. If you lose, a substantial belly." Her thighs were parting and he climbed between them, leaning close as if to kiss her. "What do you say?"

"Two."

He smiled and pushed into her for two strokes, then pulled out. His cock was average sized and only somewhat firm. She put her hand around it and squeezed to feel its vigor. Then two quick tugs.

"Three."

The cock slid in and pumped three quick strokes, starting to measure her depth.

"Have you played this game before?" she asked, giving him three equally quick tugs.

"Yes," he replied as she said "Five."

These were five slower, deeper strokes.

"What's the record?" she asked, as she cupped his balls and gave him five moderate strokes. There was no softness left. "Seven."

"Longest or shortest?" The seven thrusts were perfunctory, setting up for the long game.

"Both." She felt her juices were starting to coat him and his glans to leak as she stroked him with a long firm sequence. "Eleven."

"The shortest was seventeen... she was... very good." He punctuated that with the eleven jabbing strokes. Christine tightened her inner muscles, giving him something to think about.

"Good depends on what you want. You a cheap date, Billy?"

"The longest was... well, we'll see if you can break it. If I tell you the number, you might stop too soon." She was stroking him seriously and two-handed now. "Thirteen."

He plunged back in, pushing her further back on the bed. He wasn't hurrying in counting off the thrusts. In her head, Christine was trying to visualize her fertility app. "Hmm, probably not a good day to be playing this," she thought. What she said, though, was: "She a winner or a loser?"

She was stroking him the thirteen times now. His cock was decent sized and she liked how his scrotum was starting to contract. Probably not enough to tie the low record though, as she said "Seventeen."

"She was a winner, if you consider a pretty daughter in a Swiss boarding school a victory," he said. She pulled him in deeper with her thighs this time. He was clearly getting into it, now.

Then she leaned down and added her mouth to the seventeen strokes. Popping him out of her mouth she saw that he was a bit flushed now. She could get to him. "Nineteen."

"So what you're saying is that she interviewed poorly for the role," she added. She was extremely wet now and thrusting to meet his probing meat.

Then she was back down on him, sucking hard.

"She just founded a new department in the same operation," he chuckled.

"Twenty-three," she said, coming off him. It was getting dangerous fast: the numbers were getting larger and farther apart and his control was still pretty good.

Christine was biting her lip through the twenty-three strokes. She felt, rather than heard, the one errant grunt from him. Then she dove down and gave the twenty-three most sensual strokes with her mouth and tongue that she'd ever even wished to give. "Twenty-nine."

"You know your primes!" he remarked, sliding easily into her. Each of these strokes was a kind of agony. She didn't want him to stop, but it also seemed like forever as he counted out each one.

Back she went, determined to drive him over the edge. Did she detect some trembling in the façade of his control? "Thirty-one."

Now it was dangerous territory. She couldn't help but utter an "uh" with each one. The stirring inside her was starting to build.

Back she went, stroking and sucking with all her might. His hands were in her hair. There would be an end soon, one way or another. "Thirty...uh... seven."

Back inside he went. He was going for it, trying to get over the edge. "Thirty-five... thirty-six... thirty-seven..." and she pushed him out. He hadn't quite gotten over the edge, but now he was close. It was his turn to moan as she deep throated him. "Forty. One."

He was pumping hard, so close, wanting to seed her womb. He went for it, not caring if he stopped. Christine concentrated on counting, on not moving in a way that would trigger the inevitable end. "Thirty-nine..." and he moaned... "forty"... and he was right at the edge, "forty-one!" she cried in triumph. He popped out, obviously just shy of the goal.

She didn't go down on him. She stroked him with her hands. On the seventh stroke he lost it. She pushed the tip down and he flooded out onto her pubic mound. He rolled aside and shook her hand. "Welcome aboard, Christine. The record, by the way, is fifty-three."

Her right hand trailed through the thick cream on her belly. She rubbed her forefinger and thumb together. Then she traced her fertile opening. It was, in a way, a shame that he had lost.

--

Rome

Rome was stupid hot and filled with tourists. The air conditioning worked in vain to keep the heat out of the hotel room and the bathroom was... rustic. Christine was unhappy and uncomfortable. Being Guillame's lieutenant wasn't like working for Mike. Mike wasn't a fast climber and he didn't eat his subordinates alive. Christine's new job was to wipe up the blood, sweat, and tears Guillame left in his wake.

"You have to hand it to him," she thought, "he's effective." This as she carefully talked the team leads into the need for another late session. "I'll take care of the pizzas, okay, and don't tell Billy, but nobody at their desk before 9 a.m. tomorrow."

The only bright ray in the merger they were brokering was Daniel. He got people motivated without diving into bribery, the way she inevitably felt she had to. Not only did he keep the team's shit together, but he was downright brilliant with the customers. He drew out their fears and got them to talk about their needs. He was one jump and then two jumps ahead of the analysts.

On Saturday the Italians made it known that nobody was working Sunday. Guillame wanted her to go countermand it. "You tell them. Let's see if they don't pull your willy off if you don't give them a break."

She wanted to sleep in, but it was too hot in her room. She went down the lobby and there was Daniel.

"I know this incredible shaved ice place. It's just the thing," he announced, and off they went. And it was perfect--not Folderol pear ice cream perfect, but Roman scorching devastation perfect. A family owned kiosk right on the street, fresh fruit. Perfectly clear ice.

Christine's hands were sticky after.

They wandered down the Circus Maximus, then caught a taxi to the train station. Right next to it were the ancient baths, now a medieval church, and cool inside. Then, a few blocks walk found them in a taverna. The pasta was fresh and the wine rustic, but deliciously fruity.

He had a short conversation in poor Italian and then they were off. There was a tiny chapel, squeezed between two anonymous buildings, almost cool and dark, with many flickering candles. Inside a choir was singing. They sat listening, while around them ordinary Roman's knelt and prayed.

As dark approached, they ubered back near the hotel. The tourist spectacle was in full display, the squares filled with jubilant people. There was a small band and she danced with Daniel beneath the moonlight. It delighted her to feel his erection between them there. It delighted her that he didn't try to hide it. He kissed her once, then took her back to the hotel, where he sent her off to sleep on her own.

--

Beijing

Beijing, she thought, would be a glorious city, with its wide boulevards and many parks, if only you could see across the street. The traffic was horrendous and her cab inched forwards slowly towards her destination.

Their customer was buying a joint venture from a British firm, so it was a three way negotiation with the Chinese partner. She was the project lead: Guillame told her it was good experience on a deal that was pretty much a foregone conclusion.

The Chinese contingent was contemptuous of the whole affair. They treated the British like dirt and the customer's American representatives little better. Christine's team they treated with respect: don't fuck it up with the consultant.

Her British counterpart was a tall Yorkshireman who looked like a Viking--cool blue eyes, rugged features. He kept his hair clipped with military precision and his emotions carefully hidden. At the Park Hyatt bar that night, he told her "This is a rum deal and everyone knows it. Why are you even bothering to go through the motions?"

They fell into a nice conversation. He was married, had two kids, and twenty years with this company. Going home from China would be a blessing. In the meantime... he was ruggedly handsome.

She took him to her room, high over the many lights of the city.

"I am not on the pill and I don't use condoms," she told him. "But if you're really nice, I'll let you put my diaphragm in."

"What if I'm only a little nice?"

"Then I'll make you squirt the spermicide on it first... and then make you eat me."

"Ugh. Doesn't that numb the lips? What if I'm extremely bad?"

"Then I'll let you choose when you put the diaphragm in. Just don't knock me up or I write what I really think of this deal in my report."

He mounted her. Just when her passion was starting to build, he pulled out.

"I think we should consider the protection," he said.

She pulled the case out with the tube of spermicide. "Have you ever inserted one of these?"

"No."

"It's simple. I'll show you." She helped him apply the goop.

She angled her body and bore down. Taking his hand, she guided it. "Here, do you feel my cervix?"

"Mrm... yes. You realize this is weird and yet somehow arousing?"

"I'm kinky like this. Actually, I've never had a guy do this. But if you don't want any risks, push in the diaphragm, and put it over the cervix like a hat."

"Like this?"

"Yes." She felt around and seated it properly. "Now, I need you to get up on this bed and flood me with your seed. Just remember, if you're really bad and change your mind, you just have to tug on it."

He was only a little bad after that and she felt the diaphragm in her all that next day, uncomfortable.

That night, she told him: "The spermicide needs a recharge. Or you can pull it out and put me up the duff proper like," she said, affecting a British accent. She was only a little disappointed when he reached for the tube.

--

Luxembourg

The Kirschberg section of Luxembourg was where the French sent all of their architects to get the wacky modernist craziness out of their systems. Christine thought it was like the Mall of America embedded in a Le Courbosier fever dream. Everyone spoke English and the place was duller than dirt.

Guillame was away for a while--something about his mistress no longer fitting in her evening gown, so he put her in as the project lead. It was her first time assembling a team, and she was going over the options with Mark.

"How about Daniel?" she asked him.

"What do you need an 'efficiency expert' for?"

"What does anyone need one for? I don't know what he does, but it seems like the senior leader's use him as a cheat code. He never seems to get honors or a promotion, but... remember Andre in Prague? He's never negotiated anything that good in his life. Hell, he can barely negotiate a breakfast buffet."

"You're not wrong, but, well. Isn't he reserved for the top dogs?"

"Woof." She called Daniel. He'd be glad to be on the team.

And, amazingly, it was like having a cheat code. The team was happy not being under the thumb of Guillame and she could relax and be herself for a change. On the first day she made a joke about them being pirates and they responded with increasingly corny buccaneer jibes--but they worked hard for her. She watched how Daniel pulled a great performance from the junior parts of the team, made meetings relaxed and safe from level-seeking bulldozers, and kept everyone smiling. In return, he coached her, step-by-step.

Too quickly the research phase was over and she was addressing the group. "Alright, ye scurvy dogs, shiver me timbers but you've done good work," she drawled. She doled out recognition, thanked her team leads, and retired with Daniel to the hotel to finish off the report.

Once they were in her room, he pulled up the doc and read it through. She was nervously, her insides melting. He made a few squiggles on his notebook.

"This is really good, Christine," he said. "I made a couple of notes for things we might address. After that, there's this bar I think we should check out..."

"That's it? What happened to the all-nighter in which the miracle document emerges like a phoenix in the morning to save the company's reputation?"

"We can have an all-nighter, if you want, but the doc doesn't need it. Really. I mean, it's not like you're Andre or that wanker Guillame. You got a great performance from the team and you didn't get in the way of it. Congratulations."

The bar was in a neighborhood called "Grund" that was below Luxembourg's ancient battlement and along a river. There were a number of little, fun, places down there. Christine was only a little tipsy when they finally went back to the hotel.

"Do you want to come up and finish our all-nighter?" she asked.

"Is there anything left to do?"

"You could do me?"

"We can talk about it. Why would you want that?"

"Because you're cute and I just had a great night with you... again. Because I want to. Because maybe you do too?"

"That might be the right answer."

Kissing Daniel was different. She felt needy. She wanted him to want her.

It was a good kiss and it lead to more. Christine was never sure how she got into the bed, but there was clearly a trail of clothes through the suite leading there.

He touched her naked body and she welcomed him. She loved how her breasts hung down just right to rub up against his chest. Loved his tongue against hers.

His fingers brushed her mound. It was fleeting but delicious. Again. She kissed him hard, eyes open watching him. His eyes were closed as he focused on moving those fingers. He opened her other lips but didn't reach inside. The wet feeling inside her was incredible. He deftly avoided touching her sensitive nub, just traced around the empty opening in increasingly sensual ways.

She was putty in his hand, panting with desire. Her vagina was aching to be opened, filled. Instead he kept gently massaging her lips around her swollen clit, the little shifts in her skin causing that organ to pulse and throb with increasing insistence. She was going out of her mind, no longer able to do anything more than absorb his careful ministrations. Her peak broke and she climaxed across her whole body, like riding a waterfall down and down. His kisses and body kept her shuddering.

Finding just enough will, her hand grabbed his rigid cock and moved it Just So. The tip at her entrance, she pushed and impaled herself on it. Then she closed her thighs around him and cried out, "Oh Daniel!"

They moved together, one being. She felt the warmth of his skin inside her. The gentle parting. The delicious depth, where he hit just right. The widening of his body where it prevented going even further. His rhythm building, each of the lost in the moment.

He thickened.

She gasped and grabbed him.

He grunted.

She pulled him in with all her strength.

He came.

She sighed with release.

They lay together, smiling, and eventually they slept. All the while, she kept reaching down to feel his slick deposit just beginning to percolate deeper into her.

--

New York

Two weeks later, at two a.m., Christine woke from a dreamless sleep with sudden chills and nausea. She barely made it to the bathroom before filling the toilet bowl. She stared, sweating and suddenly cold, waiting for the feeling to pass. She hadn't been in home this long in a while. It was crazy to come down with something. Only, well, it was morning in Europe.

A little later, Daniel answered his phone.

"Our merger has resulted in an acquisition," she announced.