***
I spent Saturday going over the brief our office had prepared for me and surfing the web for research. The glossy brochures and leaflets showed me a major tire manufacturer that wanted to launch a new product while at the same time totally revamp its US brand image. It was a tall order, but far from impossible. They were attending a banquet at the Four Seasons that night because the Moto GP, which was like the Formula One of motorcycles, was being held at the Circuit of the Americas, just outside of Austin, all weekend. In fact, the race teams had been there Friday and Saturday, practicing and qualifying, and they were having a big dinner tonight because the main race was the next day at 2:00 p.m. Not awesome for me, but I couldn’t let my resentment towards motorsports get in the way of my job.
I thought about the new client in the macho motor industry. Hi, New Client, meet your dainty new PR rep. That was not the ideal recipe for success on my end unless, unfortunately, I could knock him dead. Sure, a male PR professional would get on the client’s good side, become his BFF over the course of the evening, and be smoking cigars in a hot tub with a couple of hookers by the time they had the deal sown up.
I had a different mountain to climb, however. I had to make him want me, make him feel like I just might fuck him at the end of the evening, without him realizing I was doing it. It didn’t matter if he was in a committed relationship or if I never actually delivered on my promise. There simply needed to be a subtle undertone to our relationship, and I’d have him right where I wanted him.
The first step in this process was to blow their minds as I walked in. Easy.
I showered, curled my long dark hair into the beautifully thick mane it was, and let it cascade more than halfway down my smooth, slender back. I shaved so my long shapely legs, as well as other parts of me, had that ‘just waxed’ look and feel. I’d always managed to keep my figure trim. I blamed good genes. My mother was a former Miss South Carolina, after all, and my dad would never have been so popular with the ladies if he wasn’t in such great shape. I went to the gym regularly, just to be on the safe side.
Two major components can transport a girl from looking good to looking oh-my-god-amazing. First order of business was a stunning bra. My boobs, which I’m happy to say were a little on the big side without being outrageous, meant it could be hard to get this right and totally disastrous to get it wrong, so I had mine custom made. A good bra needed to look perfect when you were wearing it by itself, lifting and enhancing brilliantly, and it needed to look invisible when covered. Luckily for me, at only twenty-five, my girls were still perky and always ready for action.
The second rule of looking oh-my-god-amazing was going commando. That’s right. Looking that little bit better than anyone else eventually came down to attitude, looking effortlessly sexy simply by carrying yourself correctly. And walking around without underwear, being the only one who knew there was only the slightest piece of delicate material between your naked pussy and the rest of the world, always felt incredibly sexy and extremely empowering. I had an undefinable air of confidence. I could always tell when I saw a woman in a club, at a party, in the theater, wherever, who wasn’t wearing panties; it was easy to tell by how they effortlessly affected everyone around them.
My tight red cocktail dress plunged enough to accentuate my ample cleavage—an excellent negotiation tool—hugged my flat stomach, and curved out beautifully over my firm butt, then slashed across my legs just above the knee. Black Manolos and a Dior clutch purse, just big enough for my cell phone, a credit card, a lipstick, and my emergency twenty-dollar bill, was everything else I would need before it was into the Mustang and downtown, looking so hot that steam, not smoke, came out the tailpipes.
James
I was a happy man. I could quite comfortably have died in this moment and place. Even with my eyes closed, I could visualize Suzi’s deliciously full lips slipping softly up and down my stiffening shaft as her hot mouth and velvet tongue enveloped my cock. I could feel her long, sharp-nailed fingers gently tickling and fondling my balls.
I opened my eyes to find the reality better than I’d imagined. Her big eyes were closed, her soft curls of long brown hair tossed over to one side of her head, and yes, it was a real treat to see my hard dick disappearing into those soft, sensual lips. When she opened her eyes and saw me smiling at her, she slid her mouth off me slowly, sucking me all the way to the tip.