Message-ID: <2226eli$9707211429@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/2226.txt>
From: bobbie3181@aol.com (Bobbie3181)
Subject: Kristen's collection: Thedeal5.txt
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-Id: <19970720173600.NAA23058@ladder01.news.aol.com>
[ from Kristen's collection ]
__________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age
(Under 18 years old) PLEASE DELETE THIS
FILE NOW!
__________________________________________
Scroll down to view Story
Archive name: TheDeal5.txt
Author name: Unknown
Story Title: "THE ART OF NEGOTIATION"
Part 5 of 8
--------------------------------------------------------
This story contains sexual situations. If sex offends
you, or you are under the legal age of 18, please delete
this file now!
-------------- from Kristen's collection ---------------
"Don't fall asleep, Al."
Mary's voice startled me from my reverie. I shook myself awake
and looked up. She was holding her blouse in her hand and had
already put her skirt back on, and she stood over me, her naked
breasts hanging over my head.
She jiggled them and laughed slightly, as if thinking of a
private joke, and then asked, "How does your penis feel?"
I reflexively looked at it, noticing the semen all over it and
my groin. The sight of it sent another vague sensation of
arousal through me, and for a second I just stared at it. I
really liked looking at it. Suddenly, I remembered that Mary
had asked me a question. I quickly looked back up at her and
said, "Oh...uh, wow! It feels _really_ good!"
Although I had only paused a second, Mary must have noticed my
reaction to seeing my cock, because she ignored my reply and
said, "See how much it turns you on now, Al? I doubt that the
sight of your penis ever got you _this_ hot before." She
paused and wiggled her breasts again. "And don't worry, Al,"
she continued. "This'll be our secret. Our hot, _nasty_
little secret."
As she spoke, Mary began to lightly rub and twist her nipples
with her fingers. I stared raptly at her as she did this.
"They'd feel really good on your balls ..." she continued, "...
and in your ass hole. I'd like to fuck you in the ass with my
nipple, Al."
As I kept staring, she silently continued to play with her
nipples above me until after a minute or so she suddenly
stopped and said, "Now you'd better get dressed. Rachael
should be off her phone call any minute now. Here," she said,
reaching into her purse and tossing me her panties, "wipe your
cum off of yourself with these."
I again snapped out of my reverie, dragged myself upright, and
wiped off my semen as best I could. She took the panties back
when I was done, saying with a wink, "I'll keep these for you,
Al. Later on we'll have some more fun with them."
"Uh, oh, OK," I mumbled absently and started dressing. I felt
exhausted and quite fuzzy-headed, and I became quite nervous
about my meeting with Rachael. I couldn't think clearly enough
to negotiate well, and I was extremely worried about the likely
possibility that Rachael put Mary up to her seduction of me. I
felt out of control and vulnerable.
Suddenly, Mary's statements sunk in a little: she seemed to be
saying that she had more in store for me. As I buttoned my
shirt and tied my tie, I asked, "Uh, Mary, uh -- you kind of
implied that... that, well...that there's more stuff we
could do...I mean, I _think_ that's what it sounded like ..."
She was buttoning her blouse. "You want more?" she asked,
sounding cold and detached, but with a hint of invitation in
her voice -- a bit like a whore fishing for more business.
"Well...yeah...I, uh...I mean, I'd _like_ to...to maybe
do some more with you...I mean...I mean if you want to ...
uh, you seemed to imply that ..."
"Well, Al," she interrupted, somewhat more warmly but still
with unmistakable whorishness. "I'm sure we can work something
out... under the right circumstances I'm willing to do a
whole lot more with you." She smiled and her voice became more
friendly. "But for now, hurry up and get dressed," she
continued. "We can discuss it later -- I'm not going anywhere.
You should go into the bathroom and clean up a little. I'll
tell Rachael you'll be right back if she calls. Now hurry ...
and unlock the door so you can get back in."
I was still too dazed to think very clearly, so I just followed
Mary's orders and went into the bathroom to wash up. Once
there, I noticed that I didn't look as dissheveled as I had
feared. My clothes had stayed pretty much unwrinkled because
I'd taken them off before getting down on the floor, and all I
had to do was wash my face and comb down my hair before I
looked more or less normal.
The cold water on my face helped to get me back to an
acceptable level of lucidity, and I was then able to reflect on
everything that had happened since I arrived. I began to fear
my meeting with Rachael -- if she and Mary were working
together on this, I reflected, who knows what she'd lay on me
in this meeting.
Actually, I had a way out -- I could just go home right then,
skipping out on the meeting. The thought was tempting, but not
as tempting as Mary, who had seemed to promise further sex with
me. Her whorish attitude led me to wonder if perhaps she was
some sort of hooker. I actually hoped she was, because I had
more confidence that I could get what I want from a woman if
its for money than for any other reason. The prospect of
somehow arranging more hot sex with Mary after my meeting with
Rachael was the only thing that kept me from running away.
Besides, I was feeling well enough to go through with the
negotiations -- or so I told myself as I walked back to the
office to face Rachael.
Back in the agency, Mary told me that Rachael was done and
would meet me in the conference room. She led through the main
office into a corridor, her hips swaying seductively as usual.
As I followed her, I pictured the conference room as one of
those that are typically found in small offices such as this
one: a room slightly larger than a large office with a table
and a few chairs, and perhaps an overhead projector or
something similar.
So I was quite surprised when Mary unlocked a door at the end
of the corridor and motioned me to follow her inside. The
conference room indeed had a table and chairs, and even an
overhead projector in a corner, but it was much bigger -- and
much plusher -- than I expected. It was more elegantly
decorated than any conference room I had ever seen, even in the
biggest of corporations. If it wasn't for the long table taking up
maybe half of the room, it would have looked more like a plush
living room in an expensive home than a conference room.
I gaped at the thick carpeting, the overstuffed chairs, the
lamps, the two large couches, the wide-screen TV, and
especially the bar against one wall.
"What's the matter?" Mary asked, a playful expression on her
face. "You don't approve?"
"No, not at all. Of course I approve," I replied. "I'm
actually quite impressed. I've never seen a conference room --
or anything in a corporate office -- quite like this. It's ...
it's ..."
"Elegant?" she offered.
"Quite so," I replied.
"Well, Rachael believes in treating her clients right." Mary
turned and winked at me, reinforcing my fears that she and
Rachael were in this thing together. "Now Rachael will be here
in a minute, so just sit down and make yourself comfortable."
She turned and started walking out.
"Uh, Mary," I called out. She turned seductively to face me as
she reached the door.
"Yeah?" she purred.
"Well, uh, I'd like to...to talk to you about...well, about
..." My voice trailed off as my shyness returned. I wanted to
discuss the possibility of further sexual adventures with her.
As usual, I found it nearly impossible to bring the subject up.
"Don't worry, Al," she interrupted, reassuringly. "I'm not
going anywhere, and we'll have plenty of time to talk. Now
just make yourself comfortable and Rachael will be right in."
With that she turned her back to me, pulled her skirt up,
wiggled her naked ass at me while winking over her shoulder,
and flounced out the door as her skirt fell back down.
Although I was sexually spent, at least for the moment, this
still was able to cause a faraway sexual reaction in me. I sat
down and took a few deep breaths. I didn't want to be
distracted during my negotiations with Rachael, and I wanted to
get them over with quickly and get back to Mary.
A minute later the door opened and in walked Rachael. Now,
even though I had spoken to her previously on the phone, I
wasn't prepared for how young she looked. From her demeanor
and the fact that she was the owner of this agency, I expected
someone maybe in her mid to late 40's, or possibly even older.
But Rachael looked around 35 or so -- and a very attractive 35
at that. She had medium-length, expensively styled red hair, a
sensuous and attractive face, was maybe 5'6" or 5'7", and had a
really nice figure. Her hips and bust were full, but neither
was too large, and I noticed she had really nice legs. She
wore an obviously expensive business suit, but one that showed
off her body to good advantage.
I stood up and we shook hands, and she said, "Well, Al. I'm
glad you could make it on such short notice. I really wanted
to have a chance to try to persuade you to stay with us."
I liked her forthrightness. "Well, I'm glad, too. Although
the new offer is a really good one, I like my current job ..."
thoughts of Mary went through my mind and I added, "... and I
especially like this agency. I'd like to try to work something
out so I could stay with you."
"Well, it looks like we have the same goals tonight," she said
as she motioned me to be seated. I sat back where I was
before: on the couch to the far right against the arm rest.
She chose the seat next to the couch that was facing at 90
degrees to it. This put her left leg about three inches from
my right one.
"But before we start, Al," she continued, "Let me tell you a
little bit about me and about my agency."
"OK," I replied cheerfully.
She told me how she built this agency up all by herself into
what it now is -- a $10 million a year agency that supplies
temporary office help and high-level consulting services to
major corporations. She's the sole owner of the company and
that there is no debt, and there was well-deserved pride in her
voice when she told me that.
I told her how impressed I was at how well she had done, and
she received the compliment graciously and seemingly gratefully
as well. With that, she sat back comfortably and gazed
pleasantly at me. I was a bit at a loss for words, so I just
looked around the room, trying not to let my nervousness show.
"So, do you like our conference room?" she asked after I had
begun to get quite uncomfortable with the silence.
"Yes, I do," I replied, grateful for her converstaional
opening. "I've been in lots of companies, but I don't think
I've ever seen a conference room as elegant as this one."
"Well, I want my clients to be comfortable," she replied. "I
think that the proper atmosphere can really be conducive to
good business relations. Don't you think so?"
"Well, I guess so," I answered. "I just think this is really
nice -- and I wish more businesses would take the time to do
things like this."
"Well, they used to do that a lot more, say 20 or 30 years ago,"
she replied. "But nowadays everyone's in it for the fast buck
and they don't like to spend money on such niceties. That's
why this country is going down the shithole so fast these days,
I think."
I was a bit taken aback at her use of the word "shithole," not
because such language shocks me or because I think it's
unladylike or anything, but because it seemed a bit out of
character with the elegant, refined image she had been
conveying up until then.
But more than that, I was impressed with her views about
American business and about the decline of the U.S.A. I share
her views and I have a hard time finding people who agree with
me or are even willing to discuss them. I guess most Americans
can't cope with the reality that the good ol' American dream is
pretty much dead -- or at least in a rather advanced, comatose
state.
So, her comment sparked me to start talking about my opinions,
and pretty soon we were in a rather animated conversation about
this topic. As we talked I became more and more comfortable
with her and started to like her quite a bit. She was smart,
perceptive, witty, and quite sexy. I often found myself
staring at her legs which were crossed right in front of me,
and I couldn't help but notice her body, which seemed relaxed
and loose under her clothes. Most women in business seemed so
stiff and uptight, and Rachael's apparent comfortableness with
her body was a striking change from that.
As we continued to chat, I began to notice that Rachael was
acting quite businesslike and I saw no evidence that she had
any knowledge of Mary's antics. This made me wonder if perhaps
I was wrong about Rachael having something to do with Mary's
behavior. Maybe Mary's actions had nothing to do with Rachael
wanting me to stay with the agency. At any rate, I began to
feel better about dealing with Rachael as we continued to talk.
After a few minutes of this, I had all but forgotten about
Mary. Those few times she intruded into my consciousness, I
just dismissed the thought about her with a reminder to myself
that she would still be there when I was done here. I found
myself drawn to Rachael, but in a different way than I was
drawn to Mary. She was sexually attractive to me, but in a
less blatant and more refined manner than Mary was. She wasn't
doing anything that could be labelled as flirtatious, and
didn't seem to be intentionally trying to arouse me -- at least
not in the way that Mary had done. Rachael was just behaving
like a confident, refined woman who knows she's beautiful and
who always does her best to show off her charms.
We were long done with the subject of the decline of American
values, and our conversation had meandered into many related areas:
art, politics, current events, literature, etc. Finally, it
was Rachael who got us back on course.
"You really are a stimulating conversationalist, Al," she said,
sending a shiver of arousal through me as I savored the
compliment. "But as much as I'd love to continue this with
you, we have some business to attend to, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "I guess we need to see if we can
reach an agreement about my rates that would allow me to stay
with your agency." I vowed that I wasn't going to let her
charm me into settling for less than what I wanted, although I
had to admit to myself that her ample charms would be hard to
resist.
"Uh-huh," she said cheerfully. "So, Al, what would make you
want to stay with us?"
"More money," I smiled.
She smiled back. "How much more money, Al?"
With that, we lept into the negotiations. The new contract
paid me $200 a day more than my current one. Although the
headhunter had told me that Rachael wouldn't give me that much
of a raise, I asked her for it anyway. Sure enough, she
replied that she couldn't afford that much and offered me much
less. I rejected that offer and we fell into some
old-fashioned horse trading.
After a while, Rachael gave me what she said was her final
offer: we'd split the difference, and I'd get a $100/day raise.
Now, this was enough for me, and I was more or less willing to
accept. However, I didn't want to seem to eager, and I really
wanted to get away from her and think about it alone before I
made my final decision. So, I told her I was leaning towards
accepting, but I wasn't sure.
With that, she said, "I understand, Al. You need time. But I
want to help you make up your mind."
This sounded like perhaps she was going to kick in some more
money, so I smiled and gave her an inquisitive but encouraging
glance.
"I know you're having a hard time with this, Al," she said,
speaking slowly and carefully and watching me very closely. "I
realize that money isn't the only thing that's motivating you
here."
I'd heard this kind of thing before: my negotiating partner
would try to use the "money isn't everything" argument to make
me feel guilty about being greedy and thereby to beat me down
on price. I knew how to handle it.
"You're right, it's not, Rachael," I countered. "I have to
weigh the money with all the other intangibles. It's a
decision only I can make -- alone. That's why I need to sleep
on it."
"Of course," she replied, unfazed. "You said you're leaning
towards accepting my offer of $100 less a day to stay with us.
You obviously have priorities other than pure greed. That's
admirable."
Always beware of compliments during negotions, I reminded
myself. "Thanks," I said politely but looking back at her with
resolve. "I'm glad you understand."
"Oh, I do, Al," she replied calmly. "But there's one thing I
still _don't_ quite understand."
"OK," I replied, wondering what she was up to. "What's that?"
"What is it about us that would make you want to give up $100 a
day?" she asked, with mock innocence.
-------------------
continued in part 6
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /