New Corporate Courtesan Ch. 03

By now he was standing between her knees, facing her. He enjoyed a lingering kiss.

"Let's start here," he said. "After dinner, how about overnight at my hotel?"

"I'd love to." Her spontaneous reply surprised Diane.

Krantz reached behind her with both hands, unhooked her dress, then pulled its zipper down the back. He pulled the top of the dress forwards, off her arms, and down to her waist. She was not wearing a camisole today. He reached back again and deftly unhooked her bra. Diane shrugged the bra off and enjoyed the caress of his two hands on her breasts.

She stood, pushed the dress down, and stepped out of her shoes and dress. Then she worked her pantyhose down and off. Clad only in her white cotton panties, she set about undressing Krantz. The suitcoat and trousers she placed carefully over the back of a chair. She came close to him; he fondled her bottom and her breasts as she worked on removing his necktie. That took a minute: she wasn't used to undressing a man wearing business attire, and a full-Windsor knot was complicated. But the tie yielded at last, and then the shirt and T-shirt.

Diane knelt and slowly lowered his briefs. She teased his penis for a minute with her breath, then lips, and then tongue. When it had stiffened a bit she took it into her mouth and began to suck in earnest. He was soon fully erect.

"So tell me, Ms. Fortier... how did the deep throat training go?"

She knew he was half kidding her. "Oh, I was terrible," she teased back. "So bad, they made me promise never even to try to do it again, lest I cause permanent damage to some poor guy." She went back to sucking normally for a few seconds. Then, without warning, she took him deep into her throat, took all of him, pressed her nose into his pubic hair, prodded the base of his penis, on the underside, with her tongue tip. She held him several seconds like that, until she needed to breathe again, then slowly brought him out until only his glans remained in her mouth. She tickled his frenulum notch with her tongue.

Then she did it all again.

Krantz was impressed. "I see," he teased. "Well, perhaps you'll be better at it by the next time we meet. Come back up and join me."

Diane rose. Krantz tugged her panties down 10 or 12 inches, and Diane let them fall to the floor. This was always a special moment for her: when you are with a new man and, for the first time with him, your panties come down and off. The moment you silently and clearly announce to him, and to yourself, "Yes, we are going to fuck. It's a sure thing." The decision has been made, and now you've got one less thing to fret about.

Of course, she reflected, maybe it's not quite the same when fucking him is just a requirement of your job. But today it did feel much the same. She hoped Krantz too was enjoying this moment.

The two embraced, kissing passionately, caressing each other everywhere with their hands. They penetrated each other, her tongue in his mouth, his fingers in her already moist vagina.

"Diane, how about hopping up on the table again? I want to lick you."

She climbed up and lay on her back, legs spread wide, knees bent, boldly offering her genitals to his gaze and to his mouth. Krantz retrieved his shirt, folded it several times, and placed it under her bottom. That raised her pussy up about a half inch. Then Krantz leaned over the table, took a breast into each hand, and put his mouth to her pussy. She smelled and tasted wonderful, he thought. He licked her with pleasure while skilfully fondling her areolas.

At last it registered in her mind that, for the first time, he had addressed her as "Diane." She would ponder that some other time, she decided. Now she closed her eyes and attended to the sensations between her legs.

She decided that Krantz didn't have quite the finesse and sensitivity of Phil Uhler. That time in Uhler's office, the day she accepted the new position--that was about the best oral sex she had ever received from a man, and her orgasm definitely the fastest. Too bad it was all over so quickly. But Krantz was at least above-average at cunnilingus, and what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm. Her orgasm came soon: it was small-ish but quite nice. And unlike Uhler, Krantz did not stop at that point but kept licking. Good man. She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, letting him know he was doing a very good job.

Krantz licked on. Several minutes passed. His right hand was now sometimes kneading her pubic mound, sometimes stroking its soft, straight hair. His left hand still carressed her right breast. Then she felt her muscles tightening, her right nipple rising between his fingers, her left nipple rising on its own. She grasped his head. Tension in her body rapidly increased. And then she came: strongly, at some length, and not at all quietly.

A minute later she had caught her breath. She sat up, smiled, put her arms around Krantz's neck, and kissed him warmly. She could smell her secretions on his face, taste them in his mouth. Usually she found that a turn-off. This time, though, it somehow seemed just natural and normal and right. Nature wants our smells and tastes to mingle, she felt.

"That was lovely," she said. "Both of them. Everything. I only wish I could think of a way to repay you."

He knew she was teasing. "I'm sure something will come to mind, eventually."

"I'll get the condoms," she said. She eased off the table, went to her shoulder bag, and retrieved two plastic packets and the tube of Astroglide too, just in case.

Diane pressed her naked body against Krantz's, gave him a kiss. "I'm yours," she said. "Where would you like me? There's a nice divan in Mr. Mobley's office. He's not expected back for another half hour."

"I'm anticipating lots of cozy horizontal time together tonight, Diane. At the moment, I think I'd just like to ravish you. Imagine I am, anyway."

"Ravish me, then. You're bigger and stronger than me. I couldn't possibly fight you off."

"Get on your knees."

She obeyed, appreciating that he had not ended the command with "bitch." Even when playing ravisher he was considerate. She sucked him to full hardness in short order. Anticipating his next move, she rolled a condom onto him. With only a little roughness, he brought her up, turned her around, and pushed her chest down against the conference table. Her feet remained on the floor. She spread her legs a little. Then his cock was deep in her vagina. She enjoyed feeling him inside her.

He pumped in and out for a couple of minutes. She realized that he was still excited but his response was stuck at a plateau. He spread her buttocks with his hands, perhaps exciting himself with the view of her anus. She could certainly offer that to him, she thought. But maybe he'd enjoy a little more role-playing first. She quickly drafted a script.

"No!" she said. "Please, not that. Not my bottom! Not my ass! I'm saving that for my husband...."

Krantz's imagination shifted into high gear, and--his cock deep in her vagina, and with a loud "Aaughhhh!"--he climaxed strongly. He collapsed on top of her, his chest against her back, breathing heavily, heart thumping. After a minute he rose, kissed her lower back tenderly, turned, and rested his hips against the edge of the table.

Diane rose too. She wasn't sure what to do about cleaning Krantz off. If you're being cautious about health, what is the sense of keeping semen away from your vagina and then taking it into your mouth? She retrieved some wet wipes from her bag and then removed his rather full condom. Hearing no objection, she proceeded to clean Krantz's penis with a wet wipe. Then she squatted and planted a kiss on the glans. She stood again and leaned back against the table, next to him, her hip and thigh touching his. Each put an arm around the other.

"Mr. Krantz, I..."

"I would love to hear you call me, 'Richard,' Diane. At least when we're alone together."

"Richard, thank you for the wonderful sex."

"The pleasure was mostly mine, Diane. Including the cunnilingus."

"That you're welcome to any time," she said, smiling. "Just say the word. And you do know I wasn't serious about denying you my bottom, right? I was just improvising some more 'ravishment' drama."

"Thoughtful of you," he replied. "It worked. But I'm glad you didn't mean it. Something else to try tonight, in addition to horizontality. I want to hear you singing, 'All of me, why not take all of me?' as I'm entering that pretty little ass."

She made a raspberry on his cheek. Then they dressed.

Afterwards she brought him to Cheryl to work out the logistics of the rest of his visit. Diane had to get back to her office to tidy up and close things down; then she had to go home, shower, and dress for dinner. Too late to worry about the SNAFU in New Britain. She'd get back to that tomorrow.

An odd sense of decorum kept her from kissing Krantz goodbye at Cheryl's desk. God knows Cheryl must have understood what was happening in the conference room: they had made enough noise doing it. For her part, Cheryl, consummate professional, gave no indication that she had noticed anything out of the ordinary this afternoon. Diane gave Krantz's hand a little squeeze, said "See you at dinner," and departed.

Doubts and second thoughts ambushed her on her way to the elevator. She flashed back to her first sex at Tolland Health and Beauty, with Uhler and then--what was his name?--Barnsley... four months ago, on the day she had agreed to step into this ridiculous, totally bizarre new position, Manager of Client Services. Uhler's semen inching down her thigh afterwards. Then, in training, choking on Mobley's erect penis until eventually, one Tuesday afternoon, she didn't choke anymore. Letting this stranger Lance into her rectum more times than her past three boyfriends combined.

And now that damned old song that Krantz had jokingly quoted had turned into an earworm she knew it would take several days to kill. "All of me, why not take all of me?... / You took the part that once was my heart, / So why not take all of me?" And don't forget my ass.

Dammit, she thought, I'm just supposed to fuck them. I'm not supposed to get emotionally involved with them. Some whore I'm making!

************

Dinner reservations were for 8 PM, at Verrazzano's, probably the best--certainly the most expensive--restaurant in the city's still heavily Italian South End. Mobley decided to play chauffeur in his Mercedes. He picked up Diane at her apartment and tossed her overnight bag into his trunk. Then he crossed the river to pick up Krantz and Flannery at the Hampton Inn. The others in their party--a pretty young administrative assistant from Erato and two other people from Tolland--would take another car to the restaurant.

Krantz took the front passenger seat. He and Mobley talked shop all the way. Diane had been asked to share the back seat with Flannery and to do something nice for him if the opportunity arose. Nice but not too nice: Krantz was feeling a little possessive of the delightful new toy he had borrowed.

Diane and Flannery fondled each other's bodies, and she let him kiss her a little. As the car exited the highway and began winding through the streets of the South End, she brought out his cock. The sky was darkening, and the car windows were tinted, so she guessed they had privacy enough. Diane alternated sucking his cock and stroking it with her hand. As he fondled her breast and pussy, over her clothing, she brought him off, into a Kleenex, with her hand. Flannery seemed quite satisfied with the treat. Verrazzano's hostess noticed the smile on the man's face as the four of them entered.

The hostess led them past the bar area into the main dining room. Diane recognized a young man seated at the bar, a Tolland employee, and she fished for his name. Somebody from Sales: Murphy? Murphree? Merton? Something like that. This was kind of a staid and probably expensive bar for a young man to be hanging out at, she thought. Hartford has livelier and cheaper bars than this one. Maybe he lives in the neighborhood.

They were brought to a large table at a rear corner of the dining room. The other three of their party were already seated and chatting amiably.

Now that he had the chance, Mobley studied Diane's dress, hair, and makeup, and he was pleased with what he saw. She had achieved just the right blend of elegance and informality for a business-related celebration at a good Italian restaurant in an old part of town. Tonight she looked even prettier than usual, he thought, but not so gorgeous or dolled-up that every head in the South End would turn to look. Perfect. He envied Krantz a little--having that lovely creature to himself all night. Mobley decided he'd have to compliment Phil Uhler on his abilities as a talent scout.

Then it dawned on him, and at the same time on Diane, that her training had not included Italian cuisine. Oops. But Mobley had confidence she was sensible enough not to make any serious blunders. The party decided to forego cocktails. Mobley ordered two bottles of good Tuscan wine for the table, a red and a white. That should get them close to halfway through the meal.

Diane studied the menu, relying on the English descriptions. She wanted one of the mixed shellfish dishes but wondered about her ability to separate the meat from the shell and move it to her mouth with finesse and without mishap. She chose instead the agnello al rafano, a lamb casserole. Mobley decided to brave shellfish in a tomato sauce, cacciucco. Krantz went with the ossobuco alla Milanese. The other four had sense enough not to order spaghetti and meatballs. They went with, perhaps, a name they recognized, veal scaloppine.

Close to two hours later, as they lingered over their desserts, the seven were feeling both full and mellow. Five of them were feeling a bit tipsy as well; Mobley and the other driver had stopped drinking after their second glass. Diane and the young assistant from Erato--her name turned out to be Gwen--decided to visit the ladies' room.

It took Diane only about three minutes to pee, rearrange her clothes, wash, and touch up her makeup. But Gwen, who had drunk more than Diane, decided that she and the toilet stall needed to spend some serious Quality Time together. Etiquette demanded that Diane stay with her, but Gwen preferred solitude at the moment, so she persuaded Diane to return.

The rest room door had just closed behind Diane when she found her way blocked by her acquaintance from the bar. Colin Murphree, that was his name. He was bigger than she had realized. His breath smelled strongly of beer.

"Well, lookee, what do we have here? It looks like Little Ms. Fortier, the pride of Tolland Health and Beauty."

Diane flinched. "You're drunk, Colin. The men's room is that way, if you're looking for it."

"How kind of you to point that out, Ms. Fortier. May I call you Diane?" He put his arm around her shoulder. "I've heard you called many things, and 'Diane' is definitely the nicest of all of them. Suppose you walk me down to the men's room and help me get my pants down? It probably won't be the first time you've done that today. Am I right, or what?"

Diane tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he was too strong. "Colin, you're drunk. Get your goddam hands off me or I'll scream." She tried and failed again to escape his clutches. "There's a corporate vice president sitting right around the corner. People like that take a dim view of one employee molesting another."

Very quickly, Murphree slapped a hand over her mouth, dragged her into the small, unisex, handicapped bathroom, and locked the door.

"My!" he said, still holding and muffling her. "That's pretty fancy talk coming from a whore, isn't it? You must be one of those fancy, high-class whores I read about. Not like those low-class girlies out on the street in Frog Hollow. Definitely too good for plebians such as myself. I wonder what is it about your cunt that attracts such a high-class clientele. Can't be its small size, after all the use it's been getting, from what I hear. Let's take a look-see at what I've been missing." He tugged her skirt up as high as he could manage. Diane redoubled her efforts to scream and to get away.

"Here, I know what a pretty little whore needs to help her relax. A little cock and a little cock juice. I hear it's very calming. I don't know, never tried it myself. You tell me, you fucking whore! How many have you had today already? Nine or ten?"

Actually, two, Diane couldn't help thinking. But she couldn't have spoken even if she had wanted to.

He tried to get his cock out of his trousers with one hand while restraining a struggling woman with the other. That proved more difficult than he had expected.

He had a moment of incaution, and Diane saw her chance. She brought her left knee up hard between his legs, giving his testicles a good whack. He went down on his side, his legs spread a little. She kicked his crotch again, from the rear. She went to the door, yanked on it. It did not budge. The lock! She found the lock, turned it, and escaped.

She tried to regain her composure before she reached the table but succeeded only partially. As soon as she sat, Mobley reached and grasped her hand.

"Diane, what's wrong?"

"A man attacked me. He dragged me into the handicapped bathroom. I think he wanted to rape me, but I think he was too drunk for that. Not a stranger: he works at Tolland. I know his name. He knew mine."

"Jesus," said Mobley, rising. "What does he look like?"

"Big, White, young... brown hair... looks Irish, to me...."

Mobley set off towards the rest rooms. A younger man from Tolland, Travis Ketcham, followed.

Krantz took the hand that Mobley had relinquished. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Not physically. No. A little shook up."

"Of course: my God.... Where's Gwen?"

"Probably still locked in a stall in the ladies' room. I think she's probably fine. I'll go check."

"No. Please stay."

Soon Mobley and Ketcham returned. "No sign of him," Mobley said. "He probably went out the back door. Gwen is safe in the ladies' room. Diane, you said you know him from work?"

"Colin Murphree... from Sales."

The restaurant manager approached the table. "Is there a problem, Mr. Mobley?"

"Thank you, Sal, we're fine. An acquaintance of the lady's got a little too frisky. He's gone, and we're calming down. Not the fault of Verrazzano's or any of its staff."

"Please let me know if I can help in any way."

"Thank you, Sal. You know I will."

The manager nodded solemnly and departed. "Stupid bastard," said Mobley. "Not Sal: this Murphree. Why the hell would he pull a stunt like this... in Verrazzano's, of all places?"

"Because he was very drunk," said Diane. "And because I'm nothing but a whore. He reminded me of that a dozen times."

"Diane, please," said Krantz, still holding her hand.

"It's impossible to rape a whore, right? In the history of Connecticut, has any man spent as much as a day behind bars for raping a whore?"

"Diane, please," said Mobley. "You are not a whore. You are a survivor of a sexual assault. Now let's act wisely. Calling the police would be a good next move. Or going to the police station, if you'd prefer. Calling a rape crisis line would be a good next move."

Diane had calmed down a little. She glanced about the dining room. By now it was empty, save for their party and some staff cleaning up. They could talk with some candor. She decided she didn't care about Ketcham and the other guy from Tolland.

"Let's wait a bit and think this through," she said. "Tomorrow won't be too late to file a report with the police... if I decide to do that. We don't want to get Erato caught up in the legal machinery of some petty street crime in Hartford. I don't need a rape kit: we didn't get anywhere near that point. I suffered only insults and threats and a couple minutes of involuntary restraint. I doubt that scaring the shit out of somebody is a crime in itself. Plus we've got no witnesses and no evidence. Maybe I have a bruise somewhere. I could have gotten it in twenty different ways--if it's there in the first place.