BUSINESS DEALS

Usually I don�t like strong coffee, but yesterday afternoon I needed it. I sat alone in the caf� for two hours, staring out of the window, watching the office workers hurrying to and fro along the street. Some of the faces were serious, but many others were smiling or laughing as they walked past: tall men in dark suits sharing a joke, or groups of young women giggling as they dashed back to work after a lunchtime soiree. Most of the women were dressed like myself in a close-fitting skirt with matching jacket and a crisp white blouse, their hair styled short and neat or tied back, like my own, in a ponytail. They all looked smart and clean, and I envied them for that, because I felt so dishevelled and dirty. On the outside, of course, I still looked immaculate: my dark blue suit had no creases, nor was my chestnut hair out of place. But underneath I felt shabby and filthy, like a violated whore.

My fingers trembled as I held the cup to my lips and drank the last dregs of my coffee. That final mouthful tasted bitter, but I was glad of it, for the bitterness masked for a while the other taste that I wanted so badly to forget. Part of me seemed ready to weep, but another part was laughing and congratulating. I heard a small voice inside my head, whispering Good work, Jayne!� as I thought of the signed contract in my leather satchel. I thought, too, of my husband, knowing he�d be so pleased that the day had turned out so well for me. That same morning, during breakfast, he had tried so hard to calm my nerves. Just do your best, darling! he had said, as I pored over the paperwork. But she�s the company�s biggest client! I protested. To which my husband replied: Don�t worry! She won�t bite!

She won�t bite!� As I sat there in the caf� I smiled grimly at the irony of my husband�s words. The irony will stay forever hidden because he�ll never find out what really happened at the meeting. I�ll never tell him or anybody else. From a business point of view my meeting with Diana Sanchez was a fantastic success: she signed a new contract, the company got richer and I got the promotion I wanted so badly. Surely nothing else matters?

I looked out of the caf� window and tried to relax, but I couldn�t stop trembling. Was it anger or shame that made my limbs shake?� At that moment, an elegant woman with tanned skin and long black hair walked past the window. For a fleeting instant I thought it was her, Diana Sanchez, and my heart almost stopped beating. The woman passed by and was gone, but immediately the memory of the meeting flooded back and the whole episode replayed in my mind as clearly as if it was happening all over again.

**********

The Sanchez Corporation operated out of Argentina but had a European venture based in London at one of the new buildings overlooking the river. The offices included a small conference suite designed for meetings and seminars, and this was the venue for my meeting with Diana, the daughter of the corporation�s founder. It was my first encounter with a senior executive of the Sanchez operation and I was extremely nervous. Diana had flown specially from Argentina to negotiate a new contract with our company and a huge amount of money was at stake for both firms.

Like me, Diana is brown-eyed and slim, but she�s a couple of inches taller and about ten years older, perhaps in her early thirties. Her skin is smooth and tanned and she�s incredibly attractive. At our meeting she looked very elegant and aristocratic, her gleaming black hair scraped back and gathered at the nape of her neck with a velvet ribbon, her pale cream skirt and jacket tailored to fit her svelte figure like a glove. She wore a black silk blouse that I recognised at once as being twice as expensive as my entire outfit.

Within five minutes of our initial greeting my fears began to subside, for Diana seemed warm and friendly. She spoke very good English, although her accent was strong and sometimes she fished for an appropriate word by muttering quickly in her native Spanish. We sat at one end of the long oval table and drank iced water, at first talking about her flight and the gruelling journey across London before turning our attention to business. We spent an hour poring over the details of the contract, each of us constantly checking our laptops or making hasty calculations, until Diana ran off to a corner to receive a call on her cellphone. I couldn�t hear what was said, for she spoke in Spanish and talked in a rapid whisper, but when she returned to her seat her expression changed completely. She became stern, and her dark eyes narrowed as she told me that the contract terms were unacceptable.

I felt stricken, as if my world had turned upside down. My whole career, my financial future, rested on this one contract. Returning to my office empty-handed without a signed-and-sealed deal would be a personal and professional disaster. I wasn�t going to let that happen. I stared at Diana and knew that she perceived my dilemma, for her face softened and her red lips parted in a smile. She held my hand and her white teeth gleamed as she tried to reassure me.

�Don�t worry, my sweet Jayne,� she said, gently squeezing my hand. �Maybe you and I can find a way to make us both happy?�

I nodded, but I didn�t share her confidence. I knew my company had stretched its margins to accommodate the new Sanchez contract, so there was really no room for manoeuvre. Diana shrugged and refilled our glasses with water. She seemed surprisingly relaxed and I was amazed when she switched our conversation to non-business topics. She asked me about my husband, and I learned that she was unmarried, much to her father�s disappointment. She spoke about Frankie, her Brazilian lover, of whom her father strongly disapproved, but it was a while before I realised that Frankie was in fact a woman. Diana saw the astonishment on my face and she laughed, leaning forward and tapping my cheek.

�Aha! At last you understand!� she said. �Now we can speak a little easier, yes?�

At once her conversation became quite blunt and inhibited. She asked me if I�d ever slept with a girl, and seemed surprised when I said no.

�Such a pity!� she added. �And you are so beautiful, so soft and so pale!�

I began to feel uneasy and tried to steer the talk back to business. But Diana stalled every attempt and kept the conversation heading where she wanted it to go. Perhaps I was too easily dominated by her, for she is clearly a forceful and charismatic woman, but I wish I�d been stronger. My youth and inexperience both let me down that day, and Diana took full advantage of the situation.

When she started talking about her sex life I felt my cheeks blush, which greatly amused her. She relished my embarrassment and proceeded to give me a very explicit account of her bedroom activities with Frankie.

�That girl�s tongue is like warm silk,� she said. �But when it�s inside me I feel like I�m sitting on a snake!� And if only I could describe her breasts to you, Jayne. Such perfection! Such firmness!� It is an honour to be permitted to kiss them, to squeeze them, until my lovely Frankie writhes in ecstasy!�

That was too much for my ears. I�m no prude, but I do have my limits. I had no intention of staying to hear any more of her dirty talk. She didn�t seem inclined to resume our business discussions and was making me feel like a fool. As far as I was concerned, the meeting was over. It tore me apart to lose the contract but I�d worry about that later. For the moment my chief priority was to get away from this sleazy lesbian before she came onto me, which I guessed was going to happen if I remained in her presence much longer. I switched off my laptop and told her I was leaving. She then became apologetic and begged me to stay.

�Soon, I promise, we do a deal,� she said.

I stared at her doubtfully. �A deal?� How?� My company has nothing more to offer, and you have said it is not enough.�

Diana smiled. �But I promise. So you must stay here a little longer, yes?�

With a heavy sigh I sat back in my chair, gazing at her suspiciously, waiting for her to resume our business talk. But instead she switched the conversation again, this time to a subject which at first seemed non-sexual. Diana asked me if I�d ever been to Brazil, and when I shook my head she gave me her opinions on the country and its female population.

�Brazilian women are very beautiful,� she said. �The most beautiful women in South America. But they don�t dress with style like the women of my country. In Brazil, the girls all wear those ugly g-strings under their clothes. Such unattractive things! You know what I�m saying?�

I nodded. �I know what a g-string is, Diana.�

�Do many English girls wear them?�

��I�ve really no idea.� I yawned. This new conversation topic was boring me already. I looked at my watch and wondered how much longer I�d need to stay. I still couldn�t see how we�d manage to clinch a deal.

Diana stared at me intently.�Do you wear such things, Jayne?�

Why the hell did she want to know something like that? The question surprised me, but I answered it anyway.

�G-strings?� No. Not my usual choice of lingerie, but I sometimes wear a thong under tight trousers.�

My answer seemed to please her, although I didn�t yet realise why.

�Good! Good!� she said, her eyes glittering. �Then you prefer to wear panties?�

�Yes,� I replied. �A far more sensible choice in an English winter. But why do you ask?� Is your company considering a move into the lingerie market?�

Diana laughed at that. Looking back, I can see why my answer amused her. Did I really sound so naive?�

�No! No!� she chuckled. �This is merely my own private concern, my personal interest.�

Still puzzled, I frowned at her. �So, female underwear is one of your interests?�

She nodded, and grinned. �Indeed yes!� Does that seem strange to you?�

I shook my head. �I�m sorry, Diana. Maybe it�s the language barrier, but I really don�t know what you�re talking about.�

She leaned forward, resting her hands on my bare knees, her fingertips touching the hem of my skirt.

�Panties!� she whispered. �I like to see women wearing them. Is there any sight more sexy than a beautiful girl in fine panties?�

I shrugged. �You�re asking the wrong person.�

Diana smiled and sat back in her chair. For a while she just stared at me, sucking the top of her pen and baring her white teeth in a smug grin.

�Take off your skirt!� she said suddenly.

�Why?� I asked, although by then I knew the reason.

Diana sighed. �You know why, Jayne!� You also know that I fancy you, and you know what turns me on. I want to see your panties. So, I ask again, please take off your skirt.��

That was the outer limit of my patience. I stood up and glared down at her.

�I can�t stand this any more,� I said. �This is a complete waste of time! I�m phoning for a taxi.�

Diana stared up at me, her dark eyes wide, as if she was desperate or fearful.

�Don�t go, Jayne!� Please don�t go! I�ll give you what you want if you stay!�

I shook my head. �You promised me a contract, Diana. But instead you just bore me with this lesbian fetish talk. And now you�re hitting on me, even though you know I�m married.�

��I�ll keep my promise,� she replied. �I�ll sign the contract. You�ll get what you want. But so will I, or neither of us goes home happy tonight.�

I took a deep breath and stared out of the big window. A seabird soared in the blue sky, riding on the cool breeze, and a boat sounded its horn as it sailed out to the estuary.� On the further side of the river a tall crane swung its metal arm across one of the construction sites, and for a brief moment I thought the movement curiously graceful. How badly do I need her signature on that contract? I asked myself. The answer was painfully obvious. Did I really need to agonise over the question?

�I don�t want to do this, Diana!�

�I know, sweet Jayne. I know. But you can trust me.�

�How long will it last?� I asked.

She smiled, shaking her head. �I don�t know. Perhaps we might say one hour?�

�An hour?� I protested. �Won�t five minutes be enough?�

She pressed a red-nailed finger to her lips. �Hush! Hush! One hour is sufficient. Then I�ll be happy, and you can go home to your husband.�

Reluctantly, I agreed to the deal. If I�d known in advance what was going to happen in that hour I would never have stayed. I still can�t believe that I allowed myself to be ensnared in her peculiar fantasy.

Diana wasted no time. I stared out of the window as she unfastened my skirt and pulled it down to the floor. Like an obedient schoolgirl I dutifully stepped out of it and stood there while she molested me. Her hands roamed feverishly over my ass, squeezing the flesh through the material of my underwear. I heard her muttering in Spanish but I didn�t want to know the comments she was making about me.

Unfortunately, she reverted to English, and I wished she hadn�t, for what she was saying seemed quite freaky.

�You�re so sexy, Jayne!� And your panties are lovely!� How firm is your sweet little butt, how smooth it feels under the white cotton!� I knew you wouldn�t disappoint me, my pretty girl!� My pale-skinned angel!�

�Shit!� I hissed, through gritted teeth, as her fingers touched my crotch. It felt far more horrible than I�d expected. My husband sometimes strokes me through my panties and can usually bring me to orgasm with his touch, but the caress of this Argentine dyke was utterly repellant. Her fingers were soft and gentle and I�m sure a lesbian might have found the sensation exciting. But not me. For me it was a torment, and I just wanted it to stop.

It did stop, but only to allow Diana to remove my jacket and blouse. She remained seated, as I stood in front of her, stripped to my bra and panties. The molestation resumed, the removal of my blouse revealing details of my underwear that appeared to fascinate her. Her fingertips traced the delicate lacy trim along the waistband of my panties and toyed with the tiny ribbon bow at the front.

�So pretty!� she whispered. �Were these panties a present from your husband?�

I rolled my eyes. �No. I bought them myself. They were in a pack of three. I bought them because they were cheap.�

�They fit you so well, Jayne. Your body is slim and well-toned, so this high-leg style suits you. You look delicious!�

�Shit!� I repeated. The crazy dyke had actually kissed my panties, planting her mouth just below the waistband. I looked down and saw the red imprint of her lips on the white cotton.

�Fucking hell, Diana!� I snarled. �What did you do that for?� What if my husband sees your lipstick on my underwear?�

She turned her face upwards and grinned. �He won�t see it. I promise. It will be our little secret.�

I shook my head and swore under my breath, but then she kissed me again, this time pressing her lips against my crotch. That felt bad enough, but then her teeth closed firmly on my mound. She bit me quite hard, so hard that the thin cotton gave little protection. With a cry of pain I stepped backwards a pace, but Diana gripped my ass with both hands and pulled me back.

�You must let me do these things,� she said. �Otherwise I can�t keep my promises. But I won�t bite you again.�

I felt a helpless rage boiling inside my head. �You bitch! This is so fucking gross!�

Her mouth touched my crotch again, but this time she poked out her tongue and licked my vagina through the panties. How I managed to stand there and take it I�ll never know, because my first instinct was to smash my knee into her jaw. But I stood there and endured it, gritting my teeth as her tongue licked along the gusset almost as far as my asshole. I was glad when she sat back, but I was astonished at her next comment.

�Your cunt-smell is very strong, Jayne. Did you wear these panties yesterday?�

I clenched my fists and barely held back from hitting her. �You cheeky bitch! How dare you say such a thing!� I don�t put on dirty underwear. These were fresh this morning. But it�s a hot day, so they get sweaty. What the fuck do you expect?�

She smiled. �Please forgive me!� I�m sorry. Please don�t be angry with me.�

That annoyed me even more. �Angry?� Don�t be angry?� I�m a happily-married woman, a sales executive with a big company. And here I am, being blackmailed and assaulted by a crazy dyke. And you think I shouldn�t be angry?�

�Turn around!� Diana ordered. And I, despite my rage, obeyed without saying a word.

She now directed her attentions very specifically at my ass, stroking it, squeezing it, kissing it. She hoisted the waistband of my panties as high as it would go, until the cotton was stretched tight across my buttocks. Her fingers groped underneath and stroked the rear of the gusset, rubbing the cotton against my asshole. I knew I was quite damp down there, but it wasn�t the nice moistness I get when my husband sticks his hand up my skirt while I�m on the telephone. It was just the sweat and ooze of a humid day.

I was suddenly aware of another moist sensation: Diana�s tongue, the warm, slimy tip tracing the sewn edge of my panties as it curved over my ass from hip to gusset. Her tongue ran the circuit a few times, before sliding up and down the cleft between my cheeks. She shoved her tongue deep inside the cleft, forcing the cotton inwards as far as it would go, her nose buried between my buttocks. To my horror she began sniffing like a dog. This really disgusted me, so I asked her to stop doing it. Surprisingly, she complied with my request, but not without making another offensive remark.

�Are all English girls so sweaty?� Maybe I should show you how an Argentine woman cleans her butt?�

�Fuck you!� I whispered.

She turned me around to face her again and stood up, her hands on my hips. I could see that her lipstick was smeared around her mouth and guessed that it was probably all over my panties too, though I couldn�t be bothered to check. She smiled, but I just glared, and I didn�t flinch when she kissed my neck.

�Take them off,� she whispered softly in my ear. �Your panties. Then give them to me.�

Misunderstanding her intention, I shook my head. �I know what you want to do next, Diana. But the answer is a definite no.�

She rubbed her nose against mine and grinned. �Chiquita!� It�s not what you think.�

Still wary, I stepped out of my panties and presented them to her. She snatched them quickly and closed her fist around them, her dark eyes leering at me as I stood before her wearing nothing except a white lace bra.

�See?� she said, taking off her jacket and unzipping her skirt. �It�s my turn now!�

She stepped out of the skirt, kicked off her shoes and took off her blouse. For a while she stood staring at me, smiling as if we were best friends. I suppose she wanted me to compliment her on her figure, but I already detested this woman too much to admire anything about her. In retrospect, I have to admit she looked in fantastic shape, but no way was I going to feed her vanity. She was wearing one of those stylish two-piece underwear sets: bra and panties in black, tastefully embroidered with gold lace.

She put her hands on my shoulders and asked me to kneel on the floor. I obeyed with a groan, trying to find a comfortable position for my knees. My face was on a level with Diana�s hips, and I could feel the warmth of her body even from six inches away. Her hands clasped each side of my head, her long fingers clawing into my hair, as she pressed herself against me.

I could hardly breathe. My face was immersed in her black panties and my lips were touching her crotch. I felt the gold lace pattern scraping my cheek as I tried to move my head, but her grip was too strong. She pushed harder and my mouth squashed into her crotch. I could feel the shape of her slit and the cushion of bristles beneath her panties. And she really stank!� Not just traveller�s sweat, but a pungent odour that made my nostrils flare. And to think she�d accused me of being unclean!

�Dirty bitch!� I sneered, my voice muffled in the suffocating warmth of her loins. I guess she didn�t hear me.

�Use your tongue!� she hissed. �Lick my cunt!�

I doubt if I�ll ever taste anything so bad as her panty-crotch. My tongue flinched as I licked her vagina through the black material, which soon became very wet. Her clit swelled like a tiny penis and felt like a little hard button through her panties.

Diana moaned softly when my tongue flicked the clit and her fingernails dug into my head, hurting me so much that I cried out. My protest was drowned by her loud gasping as she climaxed. Thank heaven it�s over! I said to myself, but she wasn�t finished with me yet.

Still gasping, her chest glistening with sweat and her face flushed a very dark pink, Diana turned around and bent her knees, presenting her ass to my face. There was no gold lace on the rear of her underwear, just plain black cotton stretched across her well-formed buttocks. My entire field of vision was filled by tanned flesh and black panties, as though my world now consisted of nothing else.

Diana backed into my face, so that my nose pushed into the cleft of her ass. The sweet stale odour that still tainted my senses now seemed even more potent, and I coughed to clear it from my throat. Surely I didn�t have to lick her ass?

�Do it!� whispered Diana, detecting my thought. �Why do you hesitate?�

Taking a deep breath I plunged in, trying desperately to block the fetid aroma from my mind. But it was no use. I grimaced as my tongue licked along her rear gusset, which tickled her so much that she giggled like a schoolgirl. She demanded that I tongue her asshole through the gusset, but I refused, and she didn�t ask again. But she kept me licking along the cleft of her ass for a long time, until the back of her panties was soaked in my saliva. I was glad when she climaxed again, because my ordeal was surely over.

Diana slumped into her chair and sat there, trembling in her underwear, her mouth half open and her eyes shining. Sweat trickled down her face and glistened on her chest, making her cleavage gleam. A large damp patch, darker than the black material, stained the crotch of her panties, its source a ripe cocktail of my saliva and her own oozings. In her right hand she clutched a ball of white cotton: my underwear, ruined by her lipstick. I didn�t ask for it back.

I dressed quickly, watching as Diana leaned over the table to retrieve her pen. She laughed quietly to herself as she signed the contract, then handed it to me. Without a word I shoved it in my satchel and looked down at her.

�I�ll never forgive you for this!� I said. �You�re demented, and utterly pathetic!�

�Her eyes avoided my glare but she smirked, nonchalantly waving her hand.

�Go away, you silly girl!� Go back to your dull little life!�

Hell!� I should have kicked her for that!� Why was I so passive?� But all I did was allow myself to be drawn into conversation with her. And, as usual, she controlled it.

�Don�t fool yourself, Jayne!� she said, gazing up at me. �I gave you a choice, and you chose to make love with me. You made that choice because my signature was more important to you than your own dignity. So don�t pretend to be a victim. You consented to our panty-play. Even my Frankie shows more resistance!�

My blood froze and my body began to shake with fury. Pointing my finger a few inches from her face, I snarled: �You scheming slut!� You blackmailed me into doing those disgusting things! Just stay out of my way, Diana!�

�Until when? Until next year, perhaps?� she whispered, raising her dark eyebrows.

Then, when she noted my puzzled expression, she added: �The contract, senorita. Next year we must re-negotiate our agreement. You and me, my English lovely. Maybe I invite you to Buenos Aires for the meeting?�

I gripped my satchel and headed towards the door. �You must be joking!� You won�t see me ever again!�

Then she delivered her punchline. �Maybe I say to your boss that I won�t discuss next year�s contract with anyone else but my sweet Jayne?�

I turned quickly, gave her a one-fingered gesture, and slammed through the door. Before I got halfway down the stairs I was trembling all over. It must have been a delayed shock reaction, because suddenly I felt dizzy and nauseous. I staggered down into the lobby and somehow managed to compose myself. Counting every pace, I strode across the marble floor and out into the bright sunshine. Fresh air at last!� I inhaled deeply, but the only smell was Diana�s panty-odour. It filled my nose and throat, engulfing every other taste and aroma. It was then that I thought of coffee, the strongest coffee I could find. And so I found myself sitting alone in a caf� on a sunny afternoon, trying to hide my shame by convincing myself that I was forced to participate in a degrading sex-show.

**********

But that was yesterday, and now as I sit at my desk, admiring my new office, I can almost forget. Yesterday the name-plate on my door was a strip of plastic with the words Jayne Wells, Sales Executive painted on it. Now the plate is a brass plaque, with the engraved words Mrs J Wells, Marketing Manager. I spent part of the morning just staring at the plaque, enjoying the surge of pride. At lunch I almost grew weary of hearing my colleagues say: �Brilliant result, Jayne!�� And, when I telephoned my husband to announce that my salary had doubled, we both yelled in triumph. I hate to admit it, but today I feel fantastic. Sometimes we all have to bend a little to get what we want from this life

THE END

Copyright � 2004 Jenny Kay

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