The Sweetener - Sex Stories

The Sweetener

... income in her student days, but she’d always stopped short of going further. Anyway, it was fuck all to do with anything; she wasn’t about to start justifying herself to this man. “Put it like this,” Vasily said. “A spoonful of sugar could work wonders for the deal.” This wasn’t the time to get bogged down in hypotheticals. “And you expect me to be the sweetener,” Patricia said, trying to sound as if there was no way in hell that was going to happen. “Expect, expect,” Vasily said, looking very relaxed. “I expect nothing. I am simply presenting a hypothetical suggestion.” The bastard, Patricia thought. She got the uncomfortable feeling Vasily could see right through her. And her one big weakness had always been her attraction to complete bastards. She hated the way Vasily had looked at her throughout the course of the negotiations, as if he was superior to her in every way. At the same time, outside of the negotiating room, he’d very definitely be her type. Not the kind of type she wanted any kind of long or even medium term relationship with. But definitely the type she would love to meet in a bar. The trouble was, they weren’t in a bar. “Hypothetically speaking,” she said. “Exactly how much easier would a spoonful of sugar make the process?” Vasily licked his lips, very visibly and very obviously. “It would make it considerably easier. Almost a done deal.” “Make the deal happen. By any means necessary.” “And hypothetically speaking,” Patricia said. “Exactly what would ...

... that entail?” She couldn’t believe she was actually asking that. Vasily leaned forward, smiling the way a man does who knows he’s about to get what he wants. “I do so wish you were less hypothetically attractive, Ms Perkins.” “Meaning?” But even as she said the word, Patricia knew only too well what Vasily meant. She could hear her heart thudding in her chest as Vasily flashed her his most wolfish grin yet. “Meaning that your attractiveness would move from the hypothetical to the real if you dispensed with the trousers, Ms Perkins.” Patricia tried very hard not to let her feelings show. “If, hypothetically, there were a sweetener, it must never ever come out.” Vasily’s eyes bored into hers. “Of course not,” he said. “I have a reputation to uphold, Ms Perkins. It would be very bad if I came to be associated with such things.” You arsehole, Patrica thought. But things were beginning to feel inevitable. She had a long history of being attracted to complete arseholes. She tried to remind herself never to mix business with pleasure – if indeed Vasily would prove to provide pleasure – but in her head, her boss was shouting her down. “Make the deal happen. By any means necessary.” As her eyes turned to the door, she saw Vasily give a little smile. He was reading her like a book. It was Friday evening; the office was most likely deserted, and even if there were anyone still here, the little red lamp by the door would instruct anyone passing in the corridor that whoever was in the ...