Sultry Tales 05 - Katie's Negotiations

We want to thank everyone again for all the love, positive responses and ratings for the first episodes in this series! Back by popular demand and requests, this episode brings us back to the adventures of our wonderful lead character Katie, from episodes one and two. Like our other stories, the main characters are real people. The stories are written based on actual details of their lives. These stories are written so they can be enjoyed by themselves. We recommend reading them in order to enjoy the nuances of how they fit together. Either way, we hope you enjoy!

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The small alarm clock pierced the quiet solace of my deep sleep. I was wrapped in a soft cocoon of blankets, lost in the warmth of a snug subconscious existence. "How could it go off so early? How can it be so loud?" I raised my long arm and let my hand drop in the direction of the blaring sound, hitting the large snooze button without any precision. The assaultive alarm went quiet. I wanted to roll over and pull the warm comforter over my head, letting its soft weighty embrace lull me back into a deep sleep. I knew better. The far reaches of my groggy mind recalled it was a big day at work. I foolishly stayed up too late, hoping the date I accepted on Bumble would have led to a promising relationship or at least some good sex. Neither happened. I sluggishly woke to the reminder of disappointment blurred with sexual frustration.

I slowly rolled over on my back, allowing my 5'11" fit body be cradled by the comfortable queen bed. I wore only a tank top. My eyes remained closed, resisting the summons to open. My left hand instinctively moved up across my abs, sliding under the thin fabric toward my tits. My nipples were waiting, already erect, still aroused from the hopes of the night before. My right hand slid effortlessly across my leg. My long slender fingers found their way between the moist folds of my still-yearning pussy. My mouth gaped as my middle finger moved instinctively across my clit and down the tenderness of my womanhood.

I moaned softly in the quiet solitude of my familiar touch. I took hold of my nipple between my fingers and thumb of my left hand, twisting slightly to further awaken my arousal. The fingers of my other hand slowly stroked the length of my pussy, circling my clit a few times before descending again. My arousal grew gradually but powerfully, moistening the softness of my tender folds. After several passes, I plunged my long middle finger into my pussy, dreaming of the cock I had desperately wanted the night before. Another finger joined it, drenching both.

My left hand slid down my firm body. Its long fingers found my clit and tender pleats while I used the fingers of my other hand to slowly fuck myself with mounting intensity. My skilled fingers knew perfectly how to tease and lure me toward climax. My body squirmed gently between the soft sheets, under the warmth of the comforter. My skin tingled in the best way.

"Oh yes," I whimpered to myself. My breathing quickened with the heightening pleasure. My fingers moved faster. "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," I moaned as the dizzying bliss grew wonderfully close. It felt so good. My body was enraptured by the rising arousal. I was quickly approaching the glorious point of no return.

"BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!" My alarm suddenly blared again. It startled me, shrieking loud enough to alert the neighborhood of a tornado.

"No, no!" I said to myself in added frustration. The piercing noise assaulted the bliss of my pending orgasm. I swung my arm over to hit the snooze again. "Why didn't I turn it off the first time?" I thought to myself. I laid there and caught my breath, unfulfilled.

I wanted to cozy up and finish what I started, but didn't have the luxury of time to just lay there. I needed to shower, get dressed and get to work. The disappointment and frustration from the night before only grew.

I turned on the hot shower and pulled my tank off. I glanced in the large bathroom mirror. My mussed blond hair fell to my shoulders. My tired red eyes exposed the disenchantment of the night before. My nipples were still hard and erect. "Damn, I need this shower and a cup of coffee," I thought to myself. "What I really need is a good fuck." The image of my naked body in the mirror began to be erased by the fog of steam from my hot shower filling the room.

I stepped beneath the soothing hot spray of water. I stood there, surrendering to it pouring over my body. It felt so good cascading over me. I turned slowly under it, letting it soak in. The warm air thickened. I filled my hand with body wash and pressed it against my body. My palm and long fingers glided easily over my wet skin. I closed my eyes and imagined the caress of a lover. Trails of suds followed the movement of my hands. Both hands moved effortlessly, lingering longer over my ass, then tits and pussy. My arousal reawakened. I was lost in the moment. My lathered fingers worked their magic. Arousal grew quickly, begging for release.

I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the shower head handle, releasing it from the grip of the clasp. I turned the dial to my favorite pulse massage setting without opening my eyes. I directed the spray to my body, confirming the feel of the desired setting. The pulsating pressure beat against my tits and abs. Using the fingers of my left hand, I spread the lips of my pussy open while the pulsating water massage lowered teasingly toward it. My clit was swollen, desperate, waiting. The anticipation drove me wild. I gasped as the pulses of water arrived.

I slowly moved the shower head up and down my tender folds, pausing only to allow the deep massage to have its way with my tender clit. I took my time, using my favorite toy to bring me to toward the height of climax. I tried to drag it out, but it didn't take long. My body was desperate for what it anticipated for hours. I imagined being recklessly fucked. My nipples tightened from arousal. My breathing quickened with shallow breaths of the thick warm fog. Cold chills covered my body in the middle of the fevered shower.

The wave of euphoria hit me hard. I dropped my head back and gasped. Sheer ecstasy rocked my body. I held the shower head in place, refusing relief for my captive pussy. I wanted to make it last. My body quaked in pure pleasure. "Yes! Yes!"

As the intensity of the orgasm calmed, I felt another climax coming on its heels. I knew I was going to be late for work if I didn't finish getting ready. I felt hornier after cumming than when I began. I wanted more. God, I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to be taken. I wanted to be used.

I dutifully finished my shower and dried my body with the soft towel. The responsibilities of work intruded on my truest desires. I stepped into my closet in search of what to wear. I wanted to look nice. It was a big day for my boss at work. I quickly studied the options and picked a favorite red halter dress. I knew subconsciously that my continued arousal picked the color and sexy style. I justified it. It covered enough of me to still look professional, despite knowing it would also attract some second looks.

I pulled the dress over my head. Small strings from the top of the dress tied behind my neck, gathering the bodice slightly to hold my tits. The dress came around to my mid-back, showing off my shoulders. Of course, the style prevented wearing a bra, which is fine for me. It covered while accentuating my perfect 32C tits. The dress had a subtle string draw just above my waist that I tied in a bow in front. The length fell to just below my knees. I put on a matching red thong and two-inch black heels, raising my height to just over six feet tall. I looked in the mirror to assess. "Hmm," I thought to myself. I kicked the black heels off and put on my red four inch "fuck me" heels. I knew it wasn't going to happen, but at least I could dress like it. I looked back in the mirror, offering a quick smile of approval before a glance at the clock. "I'll still make it on time for work."

My boss, Bob Durlham is the owner and CEO of Durlham Mortgage Group (DMG), one of the largest private mortgage companies in the region. He runs a tight ship. He's a strong leader and like a mentor to me. He has high expectations on his employees, which I like. It is one of the secrets to his success. He also takes good care of his employees.

Bob is in his mid-50s with a medium build, brown eyes and dark hair with some slight greying. He an all-American success story. He has a wife and a couple kids. He's confident and easy-going.

Bob let us know that he had a big client coming in from out of town. Bob had approached the client a couple months before with an enormous proposition that could be lucrative for both of them. This client only invested in big ideas, which also meant big risks. The finance, legal and executive teams for both had been working hard behind the scenes to bring the deal toward culmination. The client was flying in to hammer out final details before signing on the dotted line. It would be one of the biggest deals of Bob's life and in the history of the company. Bob's normal unflappability was replaced with an unusual excited nervousness. His deep internal competitive drive wanted this deal. He would do almost anything to get it.

We watched from our offices as the client arrived mid-morning. He was handsome. He looked to be 6'4" or so, black hair and a trimmed beard. He wore a white shirt, tan slacks and brown sport coat. The tailored white shirt showed off his slight tan, and athletic build. He looked like he might have flown in from a state with a lot of sun. Bob's assistant Camille led him through the office toward Bob's office. The client walked with a natural confidence and warm smile.

"Damn, look at that ass," Jennifer, one of the lenders said out loud, before realizing she verbalized her thoughts loud enough for others to hear. She blushed before turning to her desk, busying herself in her embarrassment.

Jen wasn't wrong. He was handsome, but also had a self-assured air about him. I smiled as I watched him walk into Bob's office. I hoped it would be a good day for Bob and his negotiations. For the next seven hours, the door to Bob's office remained closed, except for the hour and a half they left for lunch. I tried to read Bob's face when they left and came back from lunch. Suspense built in the office as the hours passed by.

Around 3:00, Camille called my desk to say Bob had needed me to answer a couple questions. My heart began to race. I knocked on the door to Bob's office.

"Come in," I heard Bob's familiar voice say from inside.

I opened the door and stepped in.

"Please close it," Bob said.

I closed the door behind me before turning to face the two men. They were sitting in plush chairs at a large mahogany conference table Bob had at one side of his large office. Afternoon sunlight poured in from the two walls of glass windows. Each of the men had small stacks of papers in front of them and half-filled glasses of scotch.

I stood there feeling strangely nervous, but didn't know why.

"Katie, this is Dean Iverson. We are working on this deal and have some questions we need your help with."

"Sure," I said. "I'm glad to help in any way I can, Mr. Durlham."

Bob smiled, knowing I was being formal to show respect in front of the client. I could also feel the eyes of Mr. Iverson assessing me as I stood there.

"I knew you would be," he said. "Please, have a seat."

Mr. Iverson immediately stood up and pulled one of the chairs out from the table as I approached.

"Thank you," I said. My cheeks tightened with a blush. "You didn't need to do that."

"Yes, I did," he said with a warm smile. He pushed my chair in slightly before sitting back in his chair.

"Bob speaks highly of you," Mr. Iverson offered.

"Thank you," I said, grateful for the compliment. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Mr. Iverson smiled warmly as his eyes looked into mine. There was a compelling confidence to him that drew me in.

"We have a couple questions and need some details that I think you have answers to," Bob said, breaking the brief awkward silence.

For the next 45 minutes we discussed what seemed like small details of some of our company's projects. I could tell Mr. Iverson was needing the information to measure the risks involved in the final details of this venture. I answered his questions with as much detail and clarity as I could. Mr. Iverson's attention was rapt. He listened intently the content of what I was saying, scribbling some notes. He also studied my mannerisms, assessing who I was and what I was communicating between the lines. His demeanor showed an assertive sincere interest without being awkward or uncomfortable. He listened with thoughtful attentiveness.

"Anything else?" I asked, as the inquiry came to a natural end.

"Not for now," Bob said. "Thank you, Katie. Will you be around for a while in case we do?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "Glad to help any way I can. I don't have any plans tonight."

Bob smiled again at my formality.

"That surprises me," Mr. Iverson said as he immediately stood up and assisted my chair out from the table.

"Oh. Thanks," I said for his unexpected chivalry, blushing again. My back brushed against his strong arm as I stood.

"Thank you," he said warmly. "You've been very helpful."

Bob smiled approvingly at me. I smiled back. "I'm glad I could help."

I busied myself the next couple hours, staying later than normal in case Bob need anything. At just after 6:00 pm, Camille called me again, saying Bob was asking for me to come back to his office.

The door opened just as I knocked. My fist hit the chest of Mr. Iverson as he was walking out. It felt like a rock wall.

"I am so sorry," I said with a look of shock on my face. My face reddened with embarrassment.

"I'll have to charge you with assault," he joked.

"I am so sorry," I repeated.

"Don't think anything of it," he said. "Excuse me just for a moment."

I watched as he walked down the hallway. Jennifer was right. He had a beautiful ass.

"Katie, can you come in here?" Bob asked.

"Yes. How's it going?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. We made progress, but we didn't get as far as either of us hoped to finish the deal. I'm not sure we can close the gap."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Anything I can do?"

"That's why I've called you in," he answered. "He's willing to still negotiate to see if we can find a way, but he has to leave first thing in the morning. If we can't get it done today, the deal's off. He's willing to stay and negotiate this evening. Unfortunately, my daughter's birthday party is tonight. As important as this deal is, I can't miss her party."

"Of course not. What can I do?"

"I need you to take my place. I need you to do whatever it takes to close the deal. Answer his questions. Negotiate the numbers. See if there is some way you can make it work. Convince him this is worth the risk."

"Wait. You want me to take your place? You want me to finish this? But, I..."

"I have confidence in you Katie. You're smart. You're capable. You know what's important to me. You know our limits, but you also know my determination and how much I want this to work. I give you authority to negotiate the final terms, seeing if you can find a creative solution to make this happen. Make this happen and there'll be a sizeable signing bonus for you."

My heart raced. My hands moistened with nervousness. "I appreciate your confidence in me," I said. "That means a lot. I'll do my best, Mr. Durlham. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Katie" he said with a look of paternal reassurance as if he were handing his daughter the keys to his Lexus. "He's hungry. Take him to dinner. We've arranged for accommodations for him at the Marriott. Take him to Fleming's Prime Steakhouse and put any expenses on my account there. Spare no expense."

"Yes, sir," I said. "Hard not to there."

Mr. Iverson walked back into the office.

"Dean, as you've seen, Katie is one of my best," Bob said. "She'll finish the negotiations this evening and do whatever it takes to find a way to get this done. She's smart, creative and determined. You've come all this way, I don't want you to leave empty handed."

"You just want this deal, Bob" Mr. Iverson answered. "And I don't want to get fucked by it."

"We'll both win in this, Dean," Bob answered sincerely. "We'll do whatever it takes on our end to make sure you not only get the deal, but leave town glad that you came. We're not that far apart. Katie has my full authority. She'll answer any questions and find a way to close that gap so its beneficial for both of us."

"Impressive," Mr. Iverson said, turning his gaze back on me with a smile. His eyes focused on mine, followed with a subtle respectful glance at my body. "You must have a lot of confidence in her."

I smiled back, with a blush.

"I do," Bob answered. "She's very good. Camille has already taken care of your hotel accommodations at the Marriott and dinner reservations at Flemings. Enjoy dinner. I look forward to hearing the details of what you two bang out."

"Shall we go?" I said, reaching for the door.

Mr. Iverson reached for it first, opening it. "Ladies first," he said.

"Thank you," I answered, impressed with his courtesy, even though he was the client. I glanced back at Bob. Bob smiled with a determined look in his eye.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to drive. I have my luggage in my rental car."

"Sure," I answered. "That makes sense."

I grabbed my purse walked with him out the office doors. Dusk offered the last paint strokes of sunset on the horizon. Only a few cars remained in the parking lot. He led me to a silver Jaguar XF and opened the passenger door for me. I stepped into the car, and sat back into the cradle of the leather seats. My dress slid down my legs, exposing them to the top of my thighs. I quickly pulled the red fabric back down to cover my legs as I looked up at Mr. Iverson with a blush. He smiled back and closed the door. I felt nervous. I knew this deal was important to Bob.

It only took a few minutes to arrive at Flemings. We walked through the doors and into its elegant décor. White fine linen, polished silver and folded black napkins covered the uniformed tables lined up across the sophisticated main dining room. The restaurant was dimly lit from large dome chandeliers hanging from a wood paneled ceiling. The maître d led us to a private table near the back arranged by Camille. Mr. Iverson pulled the chair out for me as I approached the table. He placed his hand on my shoulder as he pushed my chair in, before sitting across the small table.

"May our bartender start you with a cocktail?" the maître d asked.

"Thank you," I said. "A Long Island?"

"Very good. And you sir?"

"Old Fashioned, please" Mr. Iverson answered.

"Right away," the maître d promised.

I looked across the table and noticed again how handsome Mr. Iverson was in the soft light of the restaurant. He had a calm confidence about him, like someone who knew what they wanted. The dim light of the restaurant highlighted his tan skin and warm smile. He looked strong but with a controlled gentleness.

"So, what questions do you have, Mr. Iverson, that I can be helpful with?" I asked, breaking the brief awkward silence.

"Dean," he said. "Please call me Dean."

"Okay, Dean," I replied. "I want to be helpful in any way I can."

"I'm sure you will be," he said. "Bob has a lot of confidence in you. That's impressive. You must be very good for him to hand this negotiation off."

"Thank you," I answered. "He's a good man, like a mentor to me. I've learned a lot from him."

"That's great. Before we dive into business, I'd like to take a break from it. It's been a long day. Let's just relax, enjoy dinner and get to know each other. Tell me more about yourself."