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Archive name: thedeal1.txt (MF, prostitutes)
Authors name: Benson (address none)
Story Title : THE ART OF NEGOTIATION
Part 6 of 8

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    I realized that she had me.  I had to admit to myself that
the only reason I was even considering her offer was because I
liked how she and Mary were making me feel.  How could I admit
that to her?  I tried to come up with a plausible-sounding
explanation at the spur of the moment.  "Well," I said
nervously, "I...uh, I'm just, well...well, _comfortable_
with this agency and...and you've always treated me well and
... and, well, I guess it's not always easy to make a change.
The fact that this is a known situation is worth something to
me, I guess."
    I realized that if I wasn't careful, she'd have me agreeing
to her terms right there on the spot, so I quickly added, "But
you know, it's a hard choice.  That's why I need the time tonight
to sleep on it and think it over."
    "Of course," she replied.  "I understand perfectly why you'd
need time.  I already told you that I understand that.  But I'm
still a bit confused, Al.  I hope you don't mind me asking you
about this.  I don't mean to pry or anything."
    She paused a moment as if wanting a response, so I nervously
replied, "Oh, no...it's OK."  It _wasn't_ OK, but the reply
just came out of me before I could think.
    She nodded and continued.  "I'm still confused.  Would you
really give up $100 a day just for some familiarity and
comfort?  I mean, that's more than $25,000 a year."
    "Well, yeah ..." I stammered, feeling trapped.
    She kept on.  "And so there must be something else, Al.  That's
a lot of money."
    She was taking a big risk with this line of questioning.  I
could easily say that she was right, that come to think of it,
$100 a day really _isn't_ enough.  I could then thank her for
opening my eyes and reject her offer.  But somehow I knew that
she was aware of that risk and was confident that I wouldn't do
that.
    "Yes, it is a lot money," I replied, helplessly trying to think
of a way out and stalling with that non-committal reply.
    "So what is it, Al?  What do we have to offer here for you
that's worth the money you're considering giving up?"  She was
outwardly kind but coldly unwavering.
    "Well, Rachael, it's hard to say," I prevaricated.  "It's sort
of... of a feeling I have, I guess.  It's...it's hard to
put my finger on...just a feeling -- you know?"
    "What kind of feeling?"  She kept on pushing.
    "Oh...I don't know...just...just a...just an intangible
kind of... it's hard to say, Rachael."  I was desperate.
    "That's why I...I need time to...need time alone to think
about it...you know, to try to understand it better before I
finally decide.  Sometimes I...I need to...well, how can I
say this?...uh, sometimes I get feelings that I should do
something and then later on regret it.  It's a problem with me.
That's why I need to... to think it over some more.  You
understand, don't you?" I pleaded.
    "Yes, Al, I _do_ understand," she replied kindly.  "I don't
mean to put you on the spot.  I'll back off."
    "Oh, that's OK," I replied, the words practically gushing out
of me.  I was off the hook and I felt relieved.  "I'm just sorry
I can't give you a more timely answer," I continued magnanimously.
    "No, Al, I really do understand, and I couldn't expect a better
answer from you."  She was all sweetness and friendliness.  "In
fact, I should apologize to you, as well.  I put you on the
spot even though I understood perfectly what was motivating
you.  I sometimes get pushy in spite of what's best for me ...
and for the situation.  It's a fault I still need to work on."
    "Oh, that's OK, Rachael.  You don't need to apolgize for that."
I was filled with sweetness myself, partly from relief at being
let off the hook, partly because Rachael was being so nice, and
partly because I sensed our discussion was coming to an end and
I was looking forward to more fun with Mary.  "But if you
insist on apologizing," I continued, "I certainly accept it."
    "Well, thank you, Al," she replied graciously and seemingly
with sincere feeling.  "You're most gracious, but that doesn't
change the fact that my pushing you was still uncalled for.  I
knew from the beginning that the main reason you were seriously
considering my offer was because of how sexually turned on I'm
getting you."
    Shit!  This whole line of discussion was a skillfully laid trap
for me that Rachael had set, and I had fallen right into it.  I
was visibly shaken when she sprung it on me, and I swore to
myself and started to make a feeble protest.
    "Oh, there's no use denying it," she continued, cutting me off.
"I know I'm a very attractive woman, and I can clearly see the
reactions I'm having on you."
    "Rachael," I protested, visibly in pain.  "It's really...I
mean... it's not what you think, and ..."
    "No, Al.  It's exactly what I think."  She was kind but firm.
"But don't worry.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  I don't
think anything's wrong with that.  It's a normal reaction on
your part ..."  she said, giving me a sly look.  Then she
continued, "... especially considering that it's exactly the
reaction I wanted you to have."
    "Oh," I said, sullenly and with a bit of venom.  "Wonderful.
I'm so glad to know that," I spat.  So perhaps my original
suspicions were correct after all about her and Mary.
    "Don't take it so hard, Al.  It's nothing personal," she said
coolly but still with kindness in her voice.  "This is
business.  I make a lot of money off of you here, and I want
you to stay."
    "Well," I said, feeling a strange calmness come over me,
presumably because things were now more out in the open.  "I
guess I can understand it from your point of view -- sort of.
But, well, I mean, I'm not used to... to, well ..." I was
resentful and feeling bold "... to someone prostituting
themselves in this kind of business deal."
    I wanted the words to sting, but to my dismay, Rachael was
totally unfazed.  "That's no big deal to me, Al.  You see, I
_am_ a prostitute."
    I assumed that she meant that she acknowledged that she used
sex to win business deals.  "Well, in that sense, many women are,
I guess.  But what I was trying to say was ..."
    I was looking to make the insult more pointed, but she cut me
off.  "No, Al.  I don't think you do understand.  I really _am_
a prostitute.  You know, a hooker: I make money by performing
sexual acts."
    I was shocked.  This was totally unexpected.  "But, but...how
... ?"  My sentence trailed off into nothingness.
    "I told you how I built this business up.  Well, what I didn't
tell you was that I've been a hooker since I was 17.  I always
hated pimps and I managed to always work on my own.  It was
hard, but I don't give up easily, and by the time I was 21 I
was pulling in over $5000 a week.  That was quite a bit back
then.  I'm really good."
    All I could say was, "Uh, you must be."
    "Very, _very_ good, Al.  So after a while I had worked myself
up to being a very expensive, very high-class call girl.
Although I was able to stay clear of any pimps, I still had to
work through escort agencies.  I made a good living, but I
didn't like the agency getting its big cut.  So three of the
girls and I started our own agency.  We did quite well, but
after a few years I wanted more.  Plus, the escort business is
really a hassle.  It's too visible.  So, I hit upon the idea of
starting this legitimate business as a front.  I had a lot of
money in the bank, so I started up this agency as a temporary
secretarial service.  I sent girls out on straight assignments,
and I also used it as a front for the other kinds of services
we provided."
    So that explained Mary, I thought to myself.
    Rachael was going on with her story.  "Pretty soon I was making
as much on the straight business as I was with the other stuff,
so I expanded and went big-time, placing consultants like you
as well as the run-of-the-mill office help.  I now pull in over
$10 million a year, and most of the people who work through me
have no idea about the other side of the business.  My contacts
as a call-girl get me right to the top of most of the major
corporations, and the men are happy to hire my people -- both
for office services and for the other services I perform.  I've
had this business now for over 8 years, and although I keep
busy running it, I still sometimes will go out on a sexual
assignment myself.  Needless to say, I'm quite expensive."
    "Of course," I replied with bitterness.
    "So yes, Al," she continued, ignoring my remark, "I _am_ a
prostitute.  And this gets me back to our little business deal
here."
    "OK," I murmurred, still depressed, but wondering what she was
leading up to.  If it was a sex-for-money deal, I might go for
it.
    "Well, Al, do you know what my markup is on you?" she asked.
    "I don't know," I replied glumly.  "What?  Maybe $200 or $300 a
day?"
    "How about $600?" she replied calmly.
    "That's a 100 percent markup!"  I exclaimed.  "How do you get
them to pay for it?"
    She smiled slyly and said, "I don't give away trade secrets."
I could imagine what kinds of persuasion she used on her
clients.
    "Actually, I only make $200 on paper if you accept the raise
I'm offering you," she went on.  "That's $100 a day for me
after tax and expenses.  The other $400 is tax-free and
under the table -- that comes to $500 of profit a day, or more
than $10,000 a month free and clear.  You can see why I want you
to stay with us."
    "Yeah, I certainly can," I answered, suddenly aware of a new
angle.  "So you can afford to give me a lot more than $100 a
day, can't you."
    She smiled again.  "Not on paper I can't.  I have to show a
profit."
    "But it kind of gets under my skin to know that you make so
much off of me," I shot back.  "If the clients pay, I must be
worth it to them and I think I should get more of that money
than you have offered so far.
    "Well, I don't mean to underestimate your considerable
abilities or the high respect the clients have for you," she
countered, "but in this case I must point out that the extra
$400 a day is because of _my_ efforts, and I assure you that
our clients are very clear on this point."
    "OK," I replied, "I grant you that.  But you shouldn't forget
that no matter whose services the $400 is meant to pay for, it
still will stop if I take the other contract.  Maybe something
less than the $400 would be better than nothing.  The way I
see it, you get the money under the table, and so you can give
some of it back to me under the table, as well."  I was proud of
myself and my negotiating skills.
    "Now we're finally getting down to business, Al," she said.
"Yes, I could do that -- but I'd rather	give it back to you
in other ways."  She shifted her position on the chair so that
her leg was pressing against mine.
    "You see, Al," she continued, "I'm willing to give half of the
$400 a day back to you, but in, well, 'personal services' instead
of cash.  That comes to $4000 a month in these services from me,
Mary, or one of my other girls.  Mary normally charges $1200 to
$1500 a night.  I usually charge at least $2500.  For $4000 a month,
you can get quit a bit of sex from us Al -- and it'll be the 
best sex you ever had."
    I felt a twinge in my cock, and I found myself having a harder
and harder time thinking.  Rachael went on, "You see, Al, Mary
and I really understand what you need.  With us you don't have
to bullshit around with trying to satisfy your partner, or with
'making love', or with trying to stay hard, or with anything
like that.  I've been in the business for over 18 years, and know
what men _really_ need.  I know what _you_ really need, Al -- probably
even better than you do.   Mary, I, and some of my other girls are
experts, Al.  We'll get you hotter than you've ever been, and
we'll keep you that way for hours."
    She sat back again in her chair.  My cock was almost totally
erect, and it twitched and throbbed as it pushed up the front
of my pants.
    "So what do you say, Al?"  Rachael asked.  "Do we have a deal?"
    I didn't answer immediately.  I needed to think.
    If I accepted her offer I'd be making $100 a day less than if I
took the new offer (although it's $100 a day _more_ than my
current rate, I reminded myself).  On the other hand I'd be
getting two or more nights a month with Rachael or Mary or some
other experienced woman.  I wanted to say yes, but I started to
fear that I was going to be ripped off.  If I agreed to this and
then Rachael welched on me, I didn't have any legal recourse --
I could hardly take her to court for withholding sexual services.
    If she did rip me off I _could_ just quit, but the good offer I
would be turning down today in order to take Rachael's offer
would be long gone, and I couldn't be sure there would be another.
But as a freelance consultant, I was accustomed to that kind of
uncertainty, I reminded myself, and I realized that I was afraid
of a lot more than being ripped off financially.  I was afraid of
the power Mary and Rachael would have over me if I gave in.
    While all this was going through my mind, Rachael patiently sat
there and waited for me to answer.  Finally, I said, "Well,
Rachael, I'm inclined to accept, but...but, well, I'm
worried."
    "About what?" she asked calmly.  "You can always quit if I
don't keep my side of the bargain."
    "I know," I said, no longer able to refrain from laying my
cards on the table.  "But that's not really it.  It's that ...
well, that I'm afraid of being... being...well, being out
of control and...and, well, under your...I mean, I'm afraid
of the emotional aspects of this kind of arrangement," I
hedged.
    She smiled to herself and nodded.  "You almost said your afraid
of being under my power, didn't you, Al?"  she purred, her
voice taking on a deep, husky, inviting aspect.  "You're afraid
of the sexual power I can have over you, right?"
    "Well ..." I sighed and then hesitated.  Rachael was absolutely
correct and I didn't know how to worm out of admitting that to
her.  "Yes," I finally conceded, "I'm afraid of...of what you
said."
    "Hmmmm ..." she said, nodding slowly as she stared deeply into
my eyes.  "You know what I think, Al?" she suddenly asked.
    "Uh, what's that?"
    "I think that you _want_ me to have sexual power over you.  I
think it really turns you on, Al."
    She was right, but I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone
her.  "No!  No, Rachael...I admit I'm...I'm, uh...uh
nervous and, well...but not...uh ..."
    "No, Al," Rachael interrupted.  "There's no use denying it.
Look.  You're really scared and yet you're still sitting here.
You could've left -- made some excuse, told me to get fucked --
anything.  There are a hundred ways you could have gotten out
of here.  But you didn't.  You're still sitting here arguing."
    I felt a horrible sinking feeling inside of me as the realization
hit me that she had me pegged to the letter.
    "No, Al, I'm right," Rachael continued.  The idea of me or
one of my girls having sexual power over you excites you --
deep, deep inside of you, Al.  It's something you've desired --
no, something you've _craved_ for a long, long time.  I know
I'm right, Al."
    I just looked down nervously and then back up at her.
    "I've been in the business for 18 years," she continued, "and I
couldn't be successful at it without understanding men, Al.
And I'm _very_ successful, and I'm _very_ good at understanding
men.  I'm not wrong about a man very often, and I _know_ I'm
not wrong about you."
    I started protesting again, although quite feebly.
    Once again she cut me off.  "Don't fight it, Al.  I know what
you need.  You need me to take control of you sexually -- to
understand your needs so well that I don't have to ask you what
you want -- that distracts you -- I know, Al -- see, I _do_
understand -- and to take you totally under my control -- under
my sexual power -- to slowly, expertly build up your arousal --
more and more hotly, deeply, dizzingly overwhelming you with
sexual pleasure.  You love sitting here hearing me tell you this,
and you'll love it even more when we get down and start actually
doing it.  And I _can_ do it, Al.  Have no doubt about that.
I'm an expert at it, Al."
    I swallowed thickly.
    "See, I know what you want, Al.  Just hearing me talk about it
makes your mouth water.  I know you want to surrender to me.
To yield totally to my sexual expertise.  I'll keep you hot,
hard, throbbing for a long, long time, Al, with no pain, no
S&M, no 'Mistress' type stuff that I know you don't want.  I'll
delay your orgasm so that your ecstacy builds and builds beyond
anything you've even dreamed of -- I can do that, Al -- I
assure you.  And when I do give you your release, the pleasure
will be indescribable -- you'll be overwhelmed with the
intensity of your sensations.  It'll be like no orgasm you've
ever experienced -- so long and deep and overpowering.  And you
know what, Al?"
    All I could do was shake my head feebly.

Continued in part 7...

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