The Sweetener - Sex Stories

The Sweetener

“You know, Ms Perkins, I feel sure these negotiations could be brought to a swift and successful conclusion with the addition of a little sweetener.” Patricia kept a stony face. “A sweetener?” she said. The man on the other side of the table grinned wolfishly. His name was Vasily, and he spoke flawless English, if with an accent. “Yes,” he said, “a sweetener.” Patricia tried to keep perfectly still. She knew very well that if she leaned back her blouse would accentuate the curve of her breasts, and that if she leaned forwards, she risked displaying a small portion of cleavage. Either way Vasily would stare straight at her tits as openly and unashamedly as any man could. Her boss’s instructions rang in her ears. She was to make this deal happen “by any means necessary” . It was the first time she’d been entrusted with negotiations of this magnitude, and she knew that she never would be again if she let things slip now. Still, this was delicate stuff. She made a conscious effort not to reveal anything of her state of mind. “Suppose, hypothetically speaking, a sweetener were possible. What would you have in mind?” The grin remained, but Vasily’s eyes had steel in them. “Hypothetically speaking?” “Yes, hypothetically speaking.” The man made is if to lean back, but then he suddenly folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, staring due south of her face. “Let’s just say, Ms Perkins, that you are, hypothetically, a very attractive woman.” It was impossible for Patricia not ...

... to start. Vasily was a bastard, no doubt about it. There was nothing there to misconstrue. Her boss’s words were still ringing in her head. “Make the deal happen. By any means necessary.” Did that include what Vasily was obviously implying? Surely it didn’t? It couldn’t, could it? Not that she was averse to a bit of fun when the opportunity presented itself, but mixing business with pleasure was something she had always been careful to avoid. On the other hand, there wasn’t much she shirked from in the interests of getting ahead. Whatever gave her an edge was her guiding star. But this? This was something different. Vasily was staring her out, waiting for her reaction. “Hypothetically attractive?” she said, throwing the ball back into his court, and trying desperately to remain calm on the surface. The man leaned back. “May I speak freely, Ms Perkins.” “By all means.” “Your attractiveness would be less hypothetical if you weren’t wearing trousers. Trousers are not becoming in a woman.” Patricia’s anger flared, but she fought it back. Why would those words not go away? “By any means necessary.” There must be some other way. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” Vasily grinned, throwing his arms wide and shrugging. “I know you were once an exotic dancer.” The way he said ‘exotic dancer’ suggested that he believed it was just a code word for ‘whore’. “You’ve checked up on my background.” “Of course.” But how the fuck had he found out about that? It was how she’d augmented her ...