The Serengeti Yeti

Trade Relations

by Parker

Parker 27

WARNING: This story involves sexual acts between adults of a more or less consensual nature. If this offends you, then read no further. Consider yourself warned.

Copyright 1996 by Parker. Feel free to distribute as you will, but please don't alter the text.

 

"How long have we been at it?"

Megan stifled a yawn as she checked her watch: one o'clock in the morning. "Almost twelve hours," she answered tiredly. Brushing back a rebellious strand of dark blonde hair, she looked over at the man sitting across from her at the table as he carefully separated copies of documents and slipped them into his leather briefcase.

Nice eyes, she decided, for about the hundredth time since they'd started negotiations six months ago on behalf of their respective clients. Definitely nice eyes.

"At least we've made some progress," she told him, smiling. "I think the draft agreements and all the due diligence are pretty much in place. There's not much more we can do at our end."

The man smirked. "Yeah. As if Tokyo's going to do anything about it."

Megan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know the story," the man shrugged as he got to his feet. "They'll get the deal in place and ready to go and then hold off forever. It's just business. And this time they've got a reason to be concerned. I do know my client is worried about the latest protectionist bill before Congress. They feel the U.S. isn't interested in doing business."

"Perfect." Megan got to her feet and pulled her jacket on over her shoulders. "And six months of work down the drain. Just perfect." Briefcases in hand, the two lawyers walked out of the boardroom and through the empty office towards the elevators.

"Not to mention," the man said, continuing the thought as he pushed the elevator call button, "another Saturday night wasted at the office. I'm getting too old for this."

"Too senior, more likely."

They laughed.

After a few seconds, the doors slid open and they walked inside. Megan pushed the button for the lobby. The man glanced over at her as the elevator descended. "Feel like a drink?" Megan couldn't help but smile at the offer. It had been months since she'd gone out on anything even resembling a date... not since she'd broken up with Steve.

And he *did* have nice eyes.

"Sure," she answered. "I can use one."

The man smiled.

But that's it, she told herself firmly. Just one drink then she was on her way home.

Just one drink.

No more...

"Oh... god..."

Megan smiles as best she can with her nose buried in the man's crotch. She loves this... the soft, velvety feel of the man's cock as it slides over her tongue, across the roof of her mouth and down into her throat; the taste of his pre-come on her lips; the feeling of total power as she draws him ever closer to the precipice of orgasm and then backs away.

It's been too long!

Letting out a quiet moan, she drops one hand from the man's naked thigh and slips it down under her skirt to her throbbing pussy as her tongue flicks at the base of his cock.

"Ohh..."

Too much!

Quickly, she pulls her face back and holds still for a moment, feeling the man's cock twitching impatiently against the roof of her mouth.

"C'mon babe..." the man moans. "Don't stop."

Megan smiles again. She slips her hand in under her panties and starts to rub her pussy, sliding her fingers along her clit, as her lover unwillingly drifts slowly back from the brink of an orgasm. After a few seconds, she begins to swirl her tongue around the man's engorged penis, once again reveling in the taste and feel and power of it...

Bringing him ever closer...

It's time.

Grinning, Megan slides her mouth off the man's cock and climbs to her feet. He just stares at her, breathing heavily, with his back against the wall. His pants are down around his ankles and his cock, rigid and glistening and bobbing in the dim bedroom light, stands at attention.

"Oh babe..."

She stares at him for a moment, her green eyes, bright and shining through a curtain of tousled blonde hair. He stands, panting hoarsely, watching as she pulls her conservative, grey business skirt up to her slender waist, revealing long, lithe legs, and then... too slowly... slides her panties down to ankles. Kicking the panties away, she pulls open the top of her white blouse and slips out of her bra, allowing her breasts, large and firm, to slip free.

"Megan..."

Silently, she stalks forward and throws her arms around his neck. He resists and then melts as she pulls his face down to hers for a long, passionate kiss. He is panting by the time she breaks away. One hand drops to pull up the skirt. Taking short, shallow breaths, she pants: "Fuck me, Richard. Now!"

He doesn't need to be told twice.

Reaching down, he puts his hands under her ass and pulls her up. With a quiet gasp, she wraps her long legs around behind the small of his thighs and lowers herself down, slowly impaling herself on his rigid cock.

"Uh..."

Straining, Richard turns so that she is propped up against the wall, taking some of her weight off his back. Megan giggles and shifts forward, sliding her breasts against his chest... rubbing her sensitive nipples along his skin. "What's the matter, Richard? Too heavy for you?" She leans forward and runs a mocking tongue along his lips. Richard just grunts and begins to thrust against her, pushing her back against wall. Megan laughs and uses her legs to pull him further, tighter, deeper inside her... riding him as he grunts and heaves and bucks beneath... bucking, straining...

"Oh!"

Megan lets out a quiet cry and begins to bounce wildly against Richard, straining to achieve that final desperate ounce of friction. He opens his mouth, gasping with effort and then moaning as she fastens her lips against his and sucks frantically at his tongue.

"Mmmmm...."

She bites down as she comes.

On his tongue.

The sudden pain spurs him on to greater efforts, as he thrust and bucks and heaves until he too comes, leaning her sweaty body back into the wall and holding himself deep within her as the feel of the warm, thick cum shooting into her sends the blonde woman into a second, spiraling orgasm, her feet still locked into the small of his back.

Richard sags, and her feet drop to the floor.

Megan giggles and laps at a spot of blood on his lip, enjoying the feel of his softening penis as it slides out of her...

*****

"Hello Richard. I've got you on the speaker phone. My associate Megan Thompson is with me."

"Hi Bill."

Richard's voice sounded metallic and distant in the speaker phone. "Megan."

The blonde woman pursed her lips and looked away. In the week since she'd had sex with Richard, he'd called her four times, bothering her until she'd finally told him that she wasn't interested in seeing him again. It had been fun, but it was only a one-time thing. He'd become quite angry at this and things had been tense between them ever since.

Men!

"Good news," Richard continued after a brief moment of silence. "We've just got the word from Tokyo; it looks like the deal is going to happen." William Traddler, one of the senior partners in the firm, looked over at Megan, his eyebrows raised in surprise. The blonde woman, equally surprised, smiled and shrugged. After Richard's pessimistic description of his client's intentions, they had been expecting the worst.

"I don't mind telling you," Traddler said, "that comes as a bit of a surprise. You gave us the impression that your client was having doubts."

"That's what I thought," came the answer. "But we just got word today. It's probably going ahead."

Megan spoke up: "Probably?"

There was a brief moment of silence. Megan imagined Richard nodding stupidly at the phone.

"That's right. It's not certain yet. They want to meet directly with someone from your firm to work out a couple of points... in Tokyo."

"Tokyo?"

"Uh huh. It's the big man himself, Mr. Hikaru. He wants to meet with Ms. Thompson. Next week, if possible."

Traddler looked over at Megan, impressed. "I'm sure," he said, smiling, "that something can be arranged."

*****

Megan stared at the outfits hanging in the hotel closet, shaking her head. It was all business attire... conservative skirts, slacks and jackets. Nothing even remotely suitable for a formal reception. Sighing, she ran a nervous hand through her thick, blonde hair. After the flight and the long, disorienting limousine ride through the Tokyo traffic, all she wanted to do was collapse into bed. How could she possibly have anticipated that her host would insist upon a formal reception their first night in Tokyo?

"I told you there'd be some kind of reception as soon as we arrived. You shouldn't be surprised. *I* brought a formal suit." Frowning, the blonde woman looked over at the speaker. It was Jim Barnes, a junior at the firm. She hadn't been happy about bringing him - she thought he was a snotty little brown noser - but his father had been a cultural attachˇ in Tokyo and Barnes had spent several years in Japan as a teenager. If nothing else, Megan had to admit that his fluent Japanese would come in useful.

If only he weren't such an arrogant little twerp!

"And you can wear your formal suit in your room, Barnes," she told him. "I'm here to do the 'face to face' with the negotiators. You're going to spend the night reviewing the amendments and compiling a final document for the meeting tomorrow morning."

The young man blanched. "But I...".

"Barnes..."

"It'll take all night! I thought we were going to...".

Megan smirked. "If that's how long it takes, that's how long it takes. Just be thankful for the jet lag; pulling an 'all nighter' should be a breeze. Specially for a young go-getter like yourself." The young lawyer opened his mouth to complain but then thought better of it. Frowning, he turned and stalked out of the room. The blonde woman smiled at his retreating back and then turned her attention back to her own problems.

What to wear...

Mr. Hikaru directed a comment towards her from his position beside her at the table and looked at her expectantly, a tiny smile on his narrow face. The young woman they'd assigned to translate for her said something in a quiet voice, but Megan couldn't hear it in the buzz of the conversation. Uncertain, Megan smiled back at him and tried to nod in a manner that conveyed as little as possible. Mr. Hikaru's smiled widened and he made a comment to the man sitting at his right.

The man laughed.

The blonde woman sighed and fought to keep the smile on her face as she raised her cup and sipped at the saki. The whole evening had been going this way.

Mr. Hikaru had turned out to be a short, slender man with a narrow, thin-lipped face. From the grey at his temples, she pegged him to be in his mid-50's, although she'd heard that he was older than that.

Much older.

When her host, who himself seemed to know only a few words of English, had discovered that she did not have a translator with her, he had provided one of his own employees to fulfill that role for her. The translator was an anemic looking young woman who, although she might have been perfectly fluent in English, was so soft spoken that Megan had not been able to make out a word she'd said the entire night. As a result, she had spent the evening sitting at Mr. Hikaru's left at a round table which held half a dozen of what she assumed were his top executives and advisors, smiling, nodding and trying generally to seem like she knew what was happening.

She almost regretted not bringing Barnes.

Almost.

She thought of him sitting alone in his hotel room, laboriously identifying, compiling, typing and then proof reading literally hundreds of detailed amendments and couldn't help letting out a little giggle.

Mr. Hikaru looked at her.

Megan smiled at him and brought the cup of saki to her lips...

Finally, three and a half excruciating hours later, it was over. The waiter pulled the chair back and Megan got to her feet, staggering a little at the sudden effort. Mr. Hikaru caught her arm, steadying her. Megan smiled her thanks. Between the saki, the boredom and the impending jet lag, she was getting a little dizzy. Her host offered his arm as they left the restaurant and the blonde woman took it, again smiling her thanks.

As they waited in the parking bay for the driver to return with the limousine, Mr. Hikaru turned to the translator and spoke for a few seconds. The woman listened and then turned to Megan: "Mr. Hikaru invites you to join him at his office for a brief meeting. He says he would be honored if you would address some matters with him before the final negotiations."

Megan took a deep breath. She wanted nothing more than to head back to the hotel and collapse into bed. But this was what she was paid for. And if this was what it took to close the deal and land her the partnership, well...

"Please tell Mr. Hikaru that I would be honored."

Mr. Hikaru's "office" turned out to be a large, luxurious suite in a steel glass tower right in the commercial district of downtown Tokyo. The blonde woman had felt a moment of shock and disorientation as she's walked into what was obviously a private residence; she could have sworn it was an office building.

"Some office," she muttered, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

Mr. Hikaru looked over at her for a moment and then said something. "This is for private business," came a voice from behind her. Megan turned and watched as the translator entered the room and shut the door, wondering at the sound of her voice. "Mr. Hikaru wishes for you to be comfortable."

The corner of Megan's mouth twitched in a half smirk as she examined the room. Hazy and half drunk as she was, she knew a seduction when she saw it. The plush leather couches... the dark - was that really black velvet? - prints... it was almost laughable. Across the room, Mr. Hikaru opened a cabinet door and poured two glasses, saying something over his shoulder.

"Mr. Hikaru offers you a drink," came the woman's voice, quiet and timid, behind her.

Megan smiled. The presence of the translator, she decided as she walked forward to take the drink, was different.

Original.

Mr. Hikaru raised his glass and spoke.

"To business," came the woman's voice.

Megan raised her glass, nodding, and took a sip.

The scotch immediately commenced battle with the saki, sending her stomach churning. She put the drink down on the counter and walked over to the window. The night lights of Tokyo blazed diamond cold and ice hard through the thick, glazed glass. Taking a deep breath, she watched warily as Hikaru's reflection moved closer to own in the window.

He spoke.

Off to the side, the ghostlike reflection of the translator fluttered and said: "Mr. Hikaru says you are... beautiful."

"Here it comes," she whispered to herself, watching as translator's reflection wavered and drained away, while Hikaru's reflection reached out to touch...

... she felt his hand on her shoulder, thin and bony.

Her mind skipped quickly through her options. Polite refusal? But what if didn't take 'no' for an answer? How would that affect the deal? And her bid for the partnership? It would be a disaster, particularly after she had let herself be put into such a compromising situation.

Ahh... what the hell.

Why not?

It might even help in the long run.

Smiling seductively, she turned and slid forward as the older man slipped his hand around her shoulder and pulled her in. Her lips parted..

He is fascinated by her breasts.

She is lying on the coffee table; her blouse has been torn open and her skirt has been pushed up around her waist, exposing her bare (the panties are behind the couch) crotch. Groaning, he runs his wet, pink tongue up and down... up and down... slathering lick and spittle until her breasts are shining and she has begun to pant with her own, only partially feigned, lust.

"Tits," he mumbles, sucking hungrily at one of her nipples. "Mmmm... tits." She smirks for a moment. It is the first word she has heard him speak in English.

Maybe it is the only word he knows.

Back to business...

His shirt and pants are gone, leaving him more than naked in his underwear and dress shoes. With his clothing gone, he looks more the age she had heard he was and had imagined him to be. Licking her lips she reaches down and slides a practiced hand underneath his boxer shorts.

Still soft!

She lets out a half moan, half whine. She'd hoped to get this over with quickly and get back to hotel for some sleep. Hikaru stops licking and looks up at her. She imagines an apologetic look on his narrow face. He says something in Japanese.

"Oh, that's all right," she coos encouragingly, smiling at him through a veil of blonde hair, "I can fix that." She takes his shoulder and maneuvers him onto the couch, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Hikaru's dark eyes stare, unblinking, as she slides his underwear down to around his ankles and then, still smiling and cooing encouragement, she takes his flaccid penis in her mouth. He moans as she suck gently at it, sliding her soft, wet lips up and down... up and down... trying vainly to coax it to an erection.

It remains soft.

"Tits," he mumbles, reaching down and pulling her face away from his crotch. Wiping at the thin trail of saliva running from her lips to his cock, she looks up at him, puzzled. What does he want? Frowning, he grasps her still glistening breasts and pulls then down onto his lap.

"Oh."

She understands.

"If that's what you want..." By now her previous arousal is a thing of the past. All she wants is to get the bastard off and get some sleep. Preferably not in that order.

Keeping the smile firmly affixed to her face, she bends over, cups her hands under her firm, wet breasts and begins to massage them against Mr. Hikaru's cock. The old man groans and she is rewarded by an immediate hardening of his cock. Encouraged, she starts to rub more energetically, squeezing his hardening cock between her tits and grinding her body against him. She lets out a quiet moan at the effort of it, trying desperately to bring him off before her back gives out.

His cock is now hard. It stands, sliding in and out from between her breasts as she jiggles and pumps at it. Finally, suddenly, he comes.

"Ahh..."

She barely has time to close her eyes as Hikaru's cock spurts thick and white, spewing cum over her face and breasts. She tries to pull away, but her host's hand grasps her shoulder and pulls her down into his crotch, holding her tight against his dribbling cock.

Eventually, he releases her and she squirms free. She gets to her feet and staggers to the washroom, exhausted. When she emerges, Hikaru is waiting, gesturing for her to follow him into another room.

A bedroom.

Still smiling, she says: "I have to go now." She nods at the door. "It's a big day tomorrow." Hikaru gestures towards the bedroom. She looks around in vain for the translator, but she is nowhere to be found. She considers leaving, but her clothes are a torn, cum stained mess on the floor.

Hikaru turns and goes through the door.

Sighing, she follows him into the room and lies down beside him on the bed. Mr. Hikaru, tireless, pulls open her blouse and begins sucking at her breasts again.

She falls asleep while he sucks...

*****

Megan peeled open her eyes and let out a quiet groan.

Where was she?

Oh, yes. She remembered now. The dinner... the sex - if she could call it that - with Mr. Hikaru... bolting upright, wide awake at 3:30 in the morning, as the combination of the jet lag and alcohol slammed into her like a ton of bricks... lying in bed, motionless so as not to wake the other occupant of the bed, listening as he snored and snorted beside her... picking and scraping the dried cum off her chest and throat while the digital clock at the side of the bed marked the slow, measured second, minutes and hours until, finally, about three hours later, she finally fell into a deep, black slumber.

What time was it?

She glanced over at the digital clock which had kept her company for much of the night.

3:37.

Shit! The day was more than half over. There were meetings... negotiations she was supposed to have attended. What happened? Why had no one woken her up?

Megan threw back the covers and rolled out of bed. Naked. Cursing, she looked about for her clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen. After a moment of thought, she realized that she couldn't remember where - or if - she'd taken them off. Desperate, she walked over to a closet, swung it open and sighed with relief as she realized that one whole side held nothing but women's clothing. Evidently, she wasn't the first woman Hikaru had brought to the room.

She grabbed the first item - a pink nightie, which barely came to half way down her thigh - slipped it on and walked over to the telephone.

Barnes first... at the hotel. No answer.

Megan checked the clock and did some quick mental calculations. Traddler might just still be at the office. She dialed and listened as the phone rang once... twice...

"Traddler."

She sagged with relief. "Bill. It's Megan."

"Megan!" The senior lawyer sounded excited. "Where are you? I've been trying to contact you all day." The blonde woman opened her mouth to speak, but then paused. How could she answer? She couldn't very well say...

"Barnes has been going through the documents with Hikaru's people," Traddler continued, oblivious to the lack of response from Megan. "He told me you've been meeting directly with Hikaru. Is that right?"

"Uhm... yeah, that's right." Close enough, Megan thought.

"Christ, how did you manage that? Hikaru never..." Traddler became even more agitated. "...never mind. Listen. Congress is going to pass some of that protectionist trade legislation they've been talking about. It's not general knowledge yet, but it'll happen. Our people won't do the deal unless Hikaru agrees to accept the risk of higher tariffs."

Megan bit her lip, thinking for a moment. "The only way to do that would be to add tariff fluctuation as a component of the purchaser's cost." She shook her head. "That's a non-starter. He'll never agree to that."

"That's your job," Traddler told her. "Convince him. He's never been directly involved in negotiations before. He must want this deal. If you can't persuade him, the deal will die. You do have authority to compromise a bit on some other issues. Nothing major, though. Barnes has the specifics."

Megan sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good. You know what this deal means for our client. And for the firm."

"Yes. I know."

Megan tied her thick blonde hair into a tight bun and examined the result in the bathroom mirror. Not perfect, she decided, examining her reflection, but at least she looked human again. The long, hot shower had washed the sweat and dried cum from her body and half an hour with her brush and makeup - both conveniently sitting in Hikaru's bathroom - had pretty much covered the exhaustion in her face. She grimaced as she looked at herself in the pink nightie... the pink, ruffles and silk was a couple of sizes too small for her, pulling tight around her breasts and barely covering her upper thighs. She'd have to find her clothing as quickly as possible.

She turned and walked into the bedroom.

"I bring greetings from Mr. Hikaru." Megan stopped in her tracks, startled. It was the anemic looking translator. "He hopes that you slept well."

"Where are my clothes?"

"They were torn and... soiled." Did the girl smile? "Mr. Hikaru had them sent away to be mended and cleaned. Mr. Hikaru did not want to wake you. He said you were tired after your long journey."

Megan frowned. "Where is Mr. Hikaru?"

"He is at work. I am to tell you that he will return at 6:30 to join you for dinner. He wishes you to accompany him to a small function afterwards."

The blonde woman looked at the clock: 5:20. She started to say something, but then closed her mouth. Another hour or so wouldn't hurt. She needed the chance to speak to Mr. Hikaru about the tariff component of the contract. She looked up at the translator. "I will be happy to meet with Mr. Hikaru over dinner," she said, emphasizing the word 'meet'. "And accompany him afterwards." She gestured down at the sheer nightie. "But I'll need some clothes."

"Mr. Hikaru has arranged everything."

"...and in those circumstances, a tariff fluctuation clause only makes sense as a part of the purchaser's cost component." Megan fell silent for a moment and took a bite of food as the translator laboriously repeated her statements in Japanese. The blonde lawyer shifted uncomfortably in her seat as her host smiled, his gaze sliding up from her legs to her chest, where it came to rest.

Almost unconsciously, she crossed her legs and tried to smooth down the skirt. The clothes, when they had finally arrived, were of impeccable quality and taste. As with the nightie, however, they seemed to be a couple of sized too small. The black skirt tightly hugged her curves of her ass and rode a good eight inches higher on her legs than the skirts she usually wore. The blouse too - a beautiful white silk - fit tight around her chest. The shoes fit, but the heels were a couple inches higher than she was used to wearing... to business meetings, at least. Still, the clothes were nice. And she couldn't help but admire the way they made her look... particularly with the matching jade necklace and earrings Mr. Hikaru had provided.

Mr. Hikaru spoke.

Megan turned to the translator.

"Mr. Hikaru says that you are beautiful tonight. He is surprised that a beautiful woman such as yourself has to work for a living."

The blonde woman frowned and tossed her head. "Tell Mr. Hikaru that I'm as a good a lawyer as any male he's ever dealt with."

The older man smiled as the translator turned her anger into polite Japanese. Then he answered: "Mr. Hikaru apologizes if he has given you insult. He meant it as a compliment."

Megan nodded, satisfied. "Ask him what he had to say about the tariff clause."

Mr. Hikaru checked his watch as the translator spoke and then rose, speaking. The translator said: "It is time for the function. Mr. Hikaru will discuss this matter further with you on the way."

"Fine."

The function... a party, really... was every bit as tedious as the dinner the previous night. It turned out to be a large affair, with dozens of people mingling and chatting in a traditional hall. From what she was able to gather from the translator, which wasn't much, it appeared to be some kind of celebration in recognition of someone's son achieving an award of some sort. There was a young man who appeared to be the center of attention, so Megan figured that this was pretty accurate.

She was the only non-Japanese person in attendance.

As was the case the previous evening, the translator was virtually useless, following her around speaking in such a quiet voice that Megan couldn't make out a word. As a result, the blonde woman didn't have a clue what was happening or what people were saying around her. She just followed Mr. Hikaru around, either behind as he went from one group to the other, or on his arm as he chatted with friends, smiling inanely ever time someone addressed a comment towards her. About the only thing the translator was good for was fetching drinks and, by the end of the evening, Megan was more than a little tipsy.

"Oops..."

The blonde woman let out a quiet giggle at the translator as the anemic looking girl stumbled and almost fell while climbing into the limousine. The girl's face remained expressionless as she regained her balance and took her seat across from Megan and Mr. Hikaru, facing towards the back of the vehicle.

Mr. Hikaru turned to the blonde woman and spoke as the limousine began to move. He spoke and the translator translated: "Mr. Hikaru wishes to discuss the tariff matter with you further, but not tonight. Tonight is for personal matters."

"Uhmm..."

Megan's alcohol sodden tongue fought for the right words. Normally, she would be more than willing and able to blow off such a clumsy opening, but she had to bite her tongue in these circumstances, particularly in light of the previous night's activities. She couldn't afford to insult him - she needed his agreement to do the deal - but the last thing she wanted right now was to deal with "personal matters".

Not, at least, with Mr. Hikaru.

"Uhmm..."

Undeterred by Megan's lack of response, the Japanese man reached up over her shoulder and pulled her towards him. She tried to put him off with a non-committal shake of the head. No reaction. How could she... The blonde woman's mind raced with options. Maybe she should reconsider her decision to reject his advances, at least overtly; maybe this situation could be turned to her advantage. If Hikaru wanted her badly enough...

More familiar territory.

Smiling, confident in her new course of action, she leaned into the old man, parted her lips and kissed him. He seemed surprised and tensed up for a moment but then melted into the kiss. Their tongues met, twisting and darting together for a moment before she pulled away. "Maybe tomorrow..." she whispered. "...after we discuss the tariff matter and...".

Mr. Hikaru interrupted her with anther kiss. This time it was Megan's turn to be surprised, but she kissed him back, now confident that she had him hooked. By the end of the day tomorrow...

"Ah..."

Megan sensed a movement from below. She broke the kiss and looked down. It was the translator. The woman was on her knees on the floor of the limousine. Megan peered down, unbelieving, as the Japanese woman unfastened Mr. Hikaru's pants and began to slide his small, half erect cock out from the fly.

"What the hell..."

Mr. Hikaru grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and pulled her face back against his. Surprisingly strong, he held her firm while using his other hand to rip open the blouse and start kneading her breasts. Confused, her mouth full of the Japanese man's tongue, Megan could only watch out of the corner of her eye as the translator took Mr. Hikaru's cock into her mouth and began to bob up and down. She was mesmerized by the image of the Japanese woman running her mouth up and down along the stiff cock... licking at it... sucking... the quiet slurping...

Mr. Hikaru ran his skillful fingers along her nipples, teasing them into hardness. Through the haze of alcohol, Megan felt herself start to become excited...

Megan flinches a bit when the translator reaches under her skirt and begins to massager her pussy, but quickly relaxes into a pleasurable fog as the well placed friction sends waves of sensation coursing through her body. Mr. Hikaru leans further over and starts to suck hungrily at her breasts.

"Tits..."

"Oh..."

Her view is blocked by Mr. Hikaru's head, but she feels the translator's fingers slip under the waistband of her panties and begin to pull them down. Shivering, she shifts on the seat, raising her ass to free the panties.

"Good girl."

It is the translator speaking.

The panties are down around her ankles and then gone.

Megan leans back in the seat, spreads her legs and surrenders herself to the sensations coursing through her body. Mr. Hikaru is kissing and sucking at her rock hard nipples while the translator burrows in and is nuzzling... licking... biting at her sopping pussy.

"Oh yes... oh yes... oh..."

Under the expert attentions of the two Japanese, the blonde woman is soon writhing and bucking on the seat, moaning with lust. She feels her pussy juice trickling down between her legs and sliding underneath her ass onto the leather seat. The squelching sound as she writhes on the seat only heightens her excitement... adding to the heat...

"Oh... oh... oh..."

The translator knows her work. Over the next half hour, she brings the whimpering blonde woman to the brink of climax again and again... only to pull back just in time. Panting... mewling... whining... Megan reaches down with her own hand to finish the job, but the translator's head blocks access to her pussy.

"Please..."

Finally, after the fourth near climax, Mr. Hikaru pulls away from her breasts and speaks. The translator, her face red and slick with pussy juice, looks up from between Megan's legs and turns his words into English: "Mr. Hikaru would like to... to fuck you." The translator stumbles over the word "fuck". Is she blushing?

Megan looks down. The elderly Japanese man's cock is standing, stiff and ready on his lap.

Yes...

"Oh, fuck yes..."

She needs to come so badly!

Megan pulls her skirt up around her waist and pushes herself off the seat. Bent over in the back of the limousine, she starts to turn around, but the translator maneuvers her so that she is sitting on Mr. Hikaru's lap, facing away from Mr. Hikaru. Megan doesn't argue; she needs his cock! Mewling quietly to herself, she waits impatiently until the translator has positioned Mr. Hikaru's cock and then - at last! - slides herself down, impaling herself.

"Oh... god, yes..."

In her excited state, the mans' cock in her pussy immediately sends her into a near frenzy of ecstasy. Bracing her feet on the car floor to either side of Mr. Hikaru's legs, she begins to bounce herself up and down, ramming his cock in and out of her sopping pussy as hard and as deep as she can.

"Yes... yes... oh yes... fuck me, Hikaru... oh yes..."

She is momentarily startled when the translator surges forward to kiss her full on the lips, but doesn't miss a beat, throwing her arms around the Japanese woman's neck and kissing her back, all the while continuing to buck up and down on Mr. Hikaru's cock.

"Uh... uh... uh..."

The feel of the woman's lips... her tongue... sends the frenzied blonde woman over the edge. She feels the inevitable climax building... surging... exploding in her sweat glistening body. The translator pulls her face away as the pace of her bucking increases, leaving a trail of saliva attaching their lips. Almost screaming, Megan clutches and grabs at her own breasts, kneading and thrashing about on Mr. Hikaru's lap in a frenzy of lust, until...

"Ahhhhhh...."

She comes.

Stiffening... moaning... thrashing... crying...

She comes, throwing herself violently backwards against the Japanese man, pushing him back into the seat. His cock slips free as she thrashes back against him. The translator darts forward, grasps it in her long, thin fingers and begins sliding her hand up and down along the slick pole. Within moments, Mr. Hikaru spasms and comes, his cock spurting ropes of cum up onto the blonde woman's half exposed breasts.

"Oh..."

Megan gasps as the warm liquid splatters all over her breasts and down her front. She drops one hand to her pussy and begins to rub, her body demanding a second orgasm. The translator scoops a gob of Mr. Hikaru's warm, sticky sperm onto her finger and brings it up to the blonde woman's mouth. Megan takes the finger into her mouth and sucks greedily as a second orgasm boils through her body...

*****

"It's the phone. The phone is ringing."

Megan opens her eyes. For the second day in a row, she wakes up in Mr. Hikaru's bedroom. The digital clock reads 2:18. The translator is standing beside the bed.

"The phone." The girl's voice seem stronger. "Pick it up."

Megan sits up, clutching a sticky sheet to her chest.

There is a stinging pain in her left arm.

The phone is ringing.

"The call is important."

Megan picks up the phone.

It was Traddler.

"Megan. I've been trying to reach you all night. Barnes is going over the final revisions with Hikaru's people. He says you've been closeted with Hikaru all night working out an agreement on the tariff clause."

"Uh..." The blonde woman screwed her eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to the sleep daze. "That's right." The translator picked up a remote control and clicked on a television across the room. Megan shook her head; where did that come from? That hadn't been...

"Oh... oh, yes..."

She stiffened in shock. The memories of the previous night's activities in the limousine came crashing in on her as she watched the shadowy image of her slut-self slide down onto Mr. Hikaru's cock and begin bouncing up and down. "Oh yes... fuck me, Hikaru... oh..."

"Megan? Are you there?"

She'd forgotten about Traddler.

"Uh... yeah," she answered, waving at the translator, trying to get her to turn the television off. "I'm here. Just kind of tired." Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "It's been kind of intense."

"Oh... yes, yes... fuck me..." The image on the screen bucked and mewled, glistening breasts jiggling wildly.

"Fair enough," Traddler continued. "Listen. Barnes tells me that they've agreed to the tariff deal as we wanted it. The client is ecstatic. This deal is going to be the..."

"oh... oh... oh..." The image on the camera was momentarily blocked and then the video cut to a different angle, a little above and beside the subjects. From the new perspective, Megan and the Japanese woman, the translator, are clearly visible, kissing on Hikaru's lap. Their tongues shimmered as they danced and darted in and out of each others' mouths...

"...but there's one more thing. The Japanese aren't certain..." Traddler paused for a moment as the blonde woman on the screen let out a brief, high pitched squeal. "What was that? Are you watching television? What's going on?"

"Uhmm... no." Megan waved at the translator again, trying to get her to turn off the television. The woman ignored her. "It's just the... uh, cleaning. The cleaning women are working outside. You know hotels."

"Oh. Anyway, the Japanese aren't confident about the calculations under the new tariff clause. They want someone to work with them over the next few months. Sort of an advisor, or liaison. Something like that."

"Oh... oh... oh yes..."

On the screen, the translator had slipped away and the camera had cut back to the original full view. Megan was clearly visible, her blouse ripped open, bucking and thrashing and mewling on the Japanese man's lap. Sweat trickled down her body as she became more and more frantic and, finally...

"Hikaru's asked for you."

... she came, throwing herself back against Mr. Hikaru's body. Her legs kicked wildly in the air as she twitched and spasmed and whimpered her way through a frenzied orgasm.

"Megan? Hello?"

Traddler.

The blonde woman closed her eyes. What had he...

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"Mr. Hikaru wants you to stay on as an advisor."

Mr. Hikaru wants you to stay on...

Megan sagged back in the bed, trying to think things through... trying to consider what Traddler had just said to her... trying to find a way to say 'no'...

But her mind didn't seem to work. She just couldn't think straight. God, she was tired...

She opened her eyes.

On the screen, the translator was feeding her a dollop of thick, dripping cum, smiling as the blonde sucked at it eagerly and, one hand moving down to grope at her dripping pussy, came again.

"Megan... what do you say? It'll be a real coup. For you and for the firm. And the partnership..." Traddler left that last promise dangling.

The partnership.

The camera zoomed in and focused on her face, empty and flushed, as the translator fed her another fingerful of cum.

The partnership...

Oh god... "All right," she sighed, unable to think her way out of it. "I'll do it. Just for a while, though. Right?"

"Three months," Traddler told her, "with an option for three more. I'll tell Barnes."

He hung up.

The screen went black.

Megan looked up at the translator.

"You will stay on."

It wasn't a question, but Megan answered it anyway.

"Yes."

The translator picks up the phone and speaks into it. Megan turns away and gazes at the blank screen. Strangely... impossibly... the images on the screen have excited her. She feels an urge to slide her hand down to her pussy and massage herself, but she doesn't do it.

She glances over at the digital clock.

An empty needle lies beside it.

"Prepare yourself." The translator is speaking, her voice strong and confident. "Mr. Hikaru wishes to see you in ten minutes."

Megan looks up, startled at the new tone of voice. The Japanese woman gestures at the foot of the bed; she has laid out some clothing. "Get up."

Megan does as she is told. The translator leads her into the bathroom, wipes the worst of the cum and sweat from her face and uses makeup to hide the rest. When she is finished, the Japanese woman gives Megan a quick kiss, and Megan feels the tip of the woman's tongue on her lips. She opens her mouth, not certain whether she is going to object or kiss the woman back, but the other woman has already moved away and is pulling her from the bathroom.

"Hurry. Your employer is waiting." The translator gestures towards the clothing laid out on the bed.

Megan gets dressed.

The clothing is again of good quality, but too small. The skirt is, if anything, even shorter than the one given to her the previous day, terminating a good foot above her knees. The buttons on the blouse strain against her breasts and the shoes have the same unbusinesslike high heels.

"Follow me."

The translator leaves the room and Megan follows. The blonde woman keeps her gaze downward as she is led across a hall and through a busy office. Embarrassed, she can feel the gazes of the workers. She feels her face blush red. Finally, they reach Mr. Hikaru's office. The translator knocks and a voice beckons them inside.

The office is full of men.

Barnes is there.

Watching.

Mr. Hikaru gestures and Megan is led to his side. He puts his arm on her shoulder and, speaking in a loud voice, makes some comments to the men. A number of them laugh; others just snicker and turn away. Megan smiles and tries to look like she knows what is going on.

Barnes sidles up to her: "Mr. Hikaru just announced that you were staying on for a while," he tells her. "He says that he is very impressed with your skill at negotiating. And that he is looking forward to working with you."

The translator smiles at this last comment.

Barnes moves away.

Mr. Hikaru turns and speaks to the translator.

Megan watches in silence, awaiting the next order.

It's not long in coming.

"Come."

The translator turns and walks out of the room. The men watch in appreciative silence as Megan follows, her gaze turned downward. She follows the Japanese woman through the office, across the hall and back into Mr. Hikaru's private chambers.

"Wait here." The Japanese woman gestures for her to get back into bed. "Mr. Hikaru will be attend to you in an hour or two. As your Mr. Barnes said, Mr. Hikaru is very much looking forward to working with you." She turned, picked up the remote control and turned the video back on.

"... oh... oh, yes... oh..."

The translator spoke again: "And so am I."

THE END

The Serengeti Yeti

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