The Focus Group Ch. 01

The call came just as she pulled the car door shut and was ready to draw the seatbelt across her lap. Marissa tapped her earpiece to answer, frustrated that she'd now likely get caught in the surge of morning traffic that seemed to emerge from nowhere at the stroke of eight.

"Miss Logan, this is Michelle from Quantified Statistical Analysis Incorporated," said the voice on the other end. Her accent was British with an Indian lilt. Marissa seriously doubted the caller's real name was Michelle, but let it pass. As potentially annoying phone solicitors went, she was tolerable. And while the fact that she was likely calling from Bangalore rather than Boston might enrage some, Marissa was put at ease because she was once compelled by pitiful finances and poor job prospects into pulling a brief telemarketing gig herself right out of college. She tempered her impatience with the ill-timed call by imagining the other woman working through her own night to phone her from around the world about whatever she would eventually try to sell.

It helped, too, that it was easy for Marissa to imagine the caller with those Bollywood star good looks she'd come to appreciate lately. It seemed like the trashy celebrity magazines she paged through without reading while on the gym's elliptical machine were trying for a broader demographic of gawker, and as a result had been including lots of Bollywood actors and actresses in the ubiquitous photo spreads.

To the woman they sported dusky features, deep eyes and long, dark hair that seemed to always shine. She couldn't help but find the look particularly alluring -- so much so that at one point in the last week she actually had to excuse herself from the fitness area to find an empty shower stall in the women's locker room.

There she quickly lifted her sports bra without removing it, her nipples stiffening as the skin met the cool air. As she lightly pinched and tweaked the firm flesh at her breast's peak, her other hand made its inexorable way across the flatness of her stomach and down underneath the waist of her spandex workout pants to the curls she kept shaved into a fashionably narrow strip.

She'd known she was wet as she left the fitness room, but upon touching herself there quickly discovered the slippery extent to which the photos had affected her. She paused to cinch the tights just down off her ass. As she gingerly slipped her middle finger inside, she inhaled sharply at the electric sensation, thrusting the fingers of her left hand into her mouth, swirling her tongue around to moisten them and resuming the alternating pinching and stroking.

Easing her finger out from inside of her, she let it trail up to where the tiny button of excited flesh had emerged from beneath its hood and gasped again, hoping she wasn't loud enough for others to hear her. Finally she formed her index and middle finger into a tiny V, pinching her clit at the junction while gently dipping her fingers in and out of her soaking pussy. She could feel her excitement building and moved her fingers up over her tingling clit to begin a slow, easy rotary stroke. It was just a few moments before she quietly brought herself to a shuddering but oh so quiet climax -- thanking her luck that she's chosen the roomy handicapped stall with grab bars on three sides where she could support her quaking, ecstatic body.

The woman's voice on the other end of the phone brought her again back to the present.

"I'm calling today because you recently registered with our online data base indicating you were interested in participating in some occasional product evaluations we conduct in your area, and I'd like to let you know of one for which you qualify."

She remembered signing up at the insistence of Gina, one of her work friends, who'd sworn up and down that it was the world's easiest way to make a little money on the side without doing something illegal. Give them your name and a few vital statistics and they call you up to taste test new potato chips or tell some marketing department your opinion on their crappy new commercial. You show up, spend two hours listening to the spiel and fill out a form, then collect a check for $250. Couldn't be easier, right?

"Great.," Marissa said, digging in her purse for her car keys. "Is there any way you can send me the information in an e-mail? I'm running a little late."

"No problem at all. Please keep an eye out for that e-mail and be sure to respond as soon as you receive it. Many of our focus groups fill up rather quickly."

"Thanks, I will," Marissa said, in fact having no intention of doing so at all.

***

The office was just coming to life as Marissa made her way to her cubicle. She smoothed her pencil skirt beneath her, slid into her chair and booted up her computer just as Jake from accounting sidled up with his venti latte and smelling of too much Axe body spray. "Marissa, looking good today."

He leaned on the wall of her cubicle like he was working some twenty-two-year-old from Jersey at the commuter bar where he usually spent his evenings. "Morning, Jake. Something I can do for you?"

She regretted saying it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

"Oh, I can think of several things ..."

Privately she referred to him as Jake the Mistake. This was thanks to an ill-conceived encounter during the office holiday party back in December. She was all too aware of Jake's nearly constant state of twenty-something arousal, so when too much punch led to too many thoughts of how it had been far too many nights since she felt something rigid inside her that wasn't battery powered, it didn't take much convincing to get Jake to accompany her to the next floor up -- at the time being renovated for new tenants -- where she began unbuttoning her blouse as soon as she heard the closing click of the door to the stairway. After reaching the button just above the waistband of her skirt, she turned and pulled the two sides into an open V, revealing the demi cup bra that just barely covered her nipples and provided a lacy shelf on which to display her breasts.

She loved the look men got when she surprised them like this -- a combination of Christmas morning delight and complete disbelief in what was actually happening. Jake was no different, his eyes coursing over every inch of her as she continued to expose herself to him, slowly pulling the black lace of her bra down to reveal her already stiffening nipples.

His erection had already grown to the point where his cock was visibly pushing against the fabric of his trousers, and she stepped to him, rubbing her palm against him.

That seemed to be his cue to lean forward and nearly thrust his entire tongue down her throat in possibly the least elegant kiss she'd ever experienced. She was momentarily taken aback, but decided to apply some control to the situation by placing her right hand on his chest as if to say, "Whoa, big fella," then using her left hand to gently squeeze his shaft through the fabric, forcing a gasp from his lips and urging him to ease back on the kiss and make him realize she meant business.

But she knew he was eager, and honestly, so was she. What she felt in her left hand certainly didn't disappoint, but it was nice to know he was neither an elephantine porn star monstrosity nor sporting limp fettuccine down there. She gave it another gentle squeeze, followed by a long, luxuriant stroke to telegraph her approval.

Marissa turned away again, this time unfastening the waistband and lowering the zipper down the side of her skirt. It slowly dropped to reveal the black lace thong she wore beneath, after which she turned and stepped out of the pool of fabric left on the dusty floor. The final two buttons of her blouse unfastened, she reached forward to loosen Jake's belt and unfasten his trousers as he placed his hands on the narrow of her waist, tickling her a little until he let them travel to her partially exposed breasts. She relished the electric tingle his touch on her nipples sent directly to her rapidly moistening cunt, but stayed focused on reaching her ultimate goal -- his hardening cock.

At last she shimmied his trousers down and was able to pull his stretchy olive green boxer briefs over the length of his shaft.

This will do quite nicely. She leaned forward to flick its engorged tip with her tongue, gently holding its base with her right hand. She drank in the sounds of his response as she teased him with her mouth and tongue - low groans paired with quick gasps - as she pulled away the material of her thong with her left hand and let it explore the even wetter reaches of her pussy.

She let him slip from her mouth as she continued to stroke his length. "We'd better hurry before someone downstairs misses us," she said. He simply nodded his head in agreement, ready to do whatever she commanded.

Marissa stood and slipped down her thong, then turned and leaned against a paint-stained sawhorse that stood just beside him among the bare metal studs and half-finished walls. Under normal circumstances she'd insist that he go down on her as she relished the feel of his tongue among her folds, the slight scruff of his face against the inside of her thigh. But time wasn't something that they had the luxury of now, and she immediately felt the thick head of his penis nudging against her as his hands gripped the curve of her hips. When she felt his shaft slip against her perineum then up along the crack of her ass, it gave her a quick shiver of forbidden delight as she wondered exactly what Jake expected from the encounter. But it was simply a case of poor aim, and his arrow quickly found its moist, welcoming target.

She was hoping he would nestle the crown there for a moment, allowing her to relish the anticipation of him filling her, but the minutes were ticking past. It was at this moment that their rendezvous did indeed need to become a quickie. When she felt him easing inside her, all that remained for her to do was shift her weight slowly backward to feel him easily slide half the way in, stretching the walls of her neglected pussy in a way she hadn't realized she had missed so much.

She exhaled a long moan, then quickly gasped again as he pulled all the way back out and plunged into her once more, this time to the very hilt of his shaft. His pleasured noises filled the vacant space as the city lights glittered outside the unadorned floor-to-ceiling windows. She suddenly imagined some apartment dwelling voyeur across the way passing his or her telescope or binoculars over the neighboring buildings and coming across their scandalous tableaux. That excited her even more, and she began to slide in a slow, steady rhythm with his thrusts, feeling the curls of his pubic hair tickling her pussy lips as he held himself deep inside and rotated his cock inside her.

He pumped into her with growing speed, and she was concerned he would lose himself to the excitement before she'd gotten what she really needed, so Marissa gripped the sawhorse with one hand and went to work once again between her legs, giving her clit a little pinch before rubbing around it in motion with their fucking. She could feel her climax building, and Jake's excitement was obvious, as well. It felt like his cock had grown even more -- or perhaps just his angle had changed -- and now with each thrust pressed against that place inside her that set off simultaneous fireworks in her brain and seismic activity through her pussy.

It was that, combined with knowing she was up to something forbidden and imagining someone else watching them and getting off that pushed her over the edge, getting her to that divine spot of complete abandonment to pleasure. She hear herself muttering, "God, yes ... Fuck me!" as electricity seemed to crackle from him into her and she felt the pleasure crest in pounding successive waves, then subside like a gently receding tide.

But he was still going. Dear god, the energy in this kid. But she didn't need him to lose himself inside her, so having had her fun, she decided to allow him his. Marissa let him slip from inside her as she squatted in front of him. She was still humming from her previous climax, but felt she might have one more self-administered bit of pleasure left.

Her lips found his cock head and caressed the crown, her tongue flicking along the underside and prompting him to gasp as she reveled in the salty taste of her own juices. He wasn't long for things now, and she relished the feel of his thickness throbbing in response to her. She wrapped her left hand around his ass and slid his cock almost all the way to the back of her throat while she reached back between her legs to bring herself around one more time.

He wanted to thrust, but she never was much of one for being face fucked. Instead she gripped his ass cheek as a way of regaining his attention and demonstrated by her actions that this was her show. He eased off and let her work, sliding him in and out, her lips slowly caressing his cock's head, then letting him slip slowly back in.

Meanwhile the work she was performing on herself and the lingering thoughts of being watched had her building up again. In her mind she formed an image of a man and woman somehow watching them from the opposite building, jerking each other off at the sight of their coupling. She moaned along Jake's length, causing obvious shockwaves to his nervous system. His head fell backward and his mouth lay open in an O of pleasure. As she fingered her pussy faster, her speed on him increased accordingly, until she found herself moaning around his cock as she sucked him. His throbs increased with the speed of her mouth, until at that moment when she knew she was nearly over the cliff, he exploded into her. The feel of his warm seed filling her mouth was all Marissa needed and she came with him, dropping all the way to her knees with his cock still between her lips and her hand still rubbing the last few pleasurable jolts from her hyperstimulated clit.

They straightened up and parted quickly, one taking the stairs and the other the elevator, and didn't speak much at work the following Monday. She felt bad for being so dismissive of his follow-up texts. In fact, he got extra points for bothering to follow up at all. But he was young, a fact that most certainly worked in his favor in the "Fit and Stamina" category while leaving her woefully wanting for any meaningful communication beyond the carnal.

And he was right; she did look particularly good today. The outfit was one of her favorites, her gym regimen was going well and she'd recently invested in some ridiculously overpriced lingerie that she happened to have on at that very moment.

After the incident in question, she didn't want to cut him loose entirely given that he had demonstrated raw talent and was obviously able and willing to offer it on an on-demand basis. With that in mind, she decided not to roll her eyes at his flirtations and instead play along.

"I have no doubt," she said, looking up from beneath hooded eyes while she smoothed her skirt along her thighs. She met his gaze and turned her shoulders just enough for her blouse to gap open a touch, giving him a peek of her lacy underwire bra that he was in an excellent position to appreciate. "Have you been thinking of those things a lot?"

He checked his immediate surroundings for eavesdroppers then leaned forward. "You have no idea," he said, wide-eyed. "Let's talk some more after work some night, what do you say?"

"We'll see. My schedule these days is pretty packed, but I might be able to find a place to squeeze you in."

He actually blushed a little, then leaned in closer, this time paying a little less attention to her cleavage than she would have liked. "Hey, not to change the subject, but did you hear the news coming down from corporate? There was some talk I overheard about downsizing and I wasn't sure if you knew anything."

She knew nothing and told him so. They assured each other that they would share what news they heard and she sent him on his way, taking just a moment to admire the way he wore his khakis as he passed between the long row of cubicles.

Such rumors in the past had either proven to be false, or the layoffs that did materialize had mercifully avoided her or her department. Still, there was a first time for everything, and she prided herself on always having a Plan B. Then she remembered the call from the product testing firm and sighed. Gina had said the few she had done were tedious, but the extra money usually made it worth sacrificing a couple of hours of her life to tell some marketing drone what she thought of the packaging for the new line of women's razors.

Marissa opened her web browser and found sitting atop the list on her personal account the promised e-mail, marked by a bright red exclamation point to denote its urgency. She clicked on it and read.

From: Quantified Statistical Analysis Inc.

To: Marissa Logan

Re: Our Upcoming Product Test

Dear Ms. Logan:

From time to time, our company is engaged by clients who require a highly specialized product test for high-end technology they are hoping to bring to market. This is one such occasion.

Our client in this instance is a highly regarded and well known Japanese manufacturer of ultra-luxury bathroom fixtures, many of which have been featured in architectural, design and technology magazines and top-rated home and design television programs.

You were chosen to be included in this test group because of certain specialized criteria -- including gender, relationship status, annual earning, lifestyle preferences and buying information you provided to us in your initial application -- that fell in line with what they client company believes will be the target market for this product.

Please note that because of the personal nature of this product and the particular requirements involved in its evaluation, should you choose to assist us we are prepared to offer you compensation in the amount of $15,000 U.S. immediately upon completion of the test.

If you agree to assist us, please remember that all results, data and media collected during the testing will be kept in the strictest confidence to ensure discretion and privacy.

Please reply at your earliest convenience to let us know if you'd like to participate. If so, we will be happy to arrange a convenient time, as well as complimentary transportation and overnight accommodations if necessary.

Kindest regards,

Michelle Vatwasaran, product testing team leader

Quantified Statistical Analysis Inc.

New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Hong Kong

Marissa sat back. "Holy shit," she muttered.

She'd always joked about having a Fuck-You Fund tucked away just in case her employer suddenly decided someone else could do her job better or cheaper, or if things got so bad she needed to make a speedy exit, but the realities of her daily costs -- mainly expensive take-out gourmet coffee, designer shoes and a car she couldn't really afford, she reminded herself -- made saving for even the smallest emergency fund unrealistic.

This, assuming it wasn't a scam to lure cash strapped young women to their doom, came at the absolute perfect time.

She called up her search page and typed in the company name. The first three pages were business section features in places including the Los Angeles Times, the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times mixed with features from smaller papers on how many people earned their livings doing product testing and providing consumer feedback. The company's stock price was up from the previous quarter and had held steady for months, and several business magazines listed them among the Top 50 in their Global Best Places to Work surveys. None of the executives, as far as she could tell, had ever been suspected of kidnapping, human trafficking or selling bootleg vital organs on the black market. What a relief.