Talent Scout Ch. 10

*** Conference ***

Five years had passed. Clarissa had grown immensely in that time, both as a woman and a student. In addition to her 'gender studies' which were extensive, deep, and satisfying, the resort, knowing her tenure would be limited to her youthful years, encouraged more worldly academic studies. She matriculated into an online, distant-learning program.

After losing touch with her former college 'woke warriors' and being touched, a lot, by the industrious men they had raged against, she discovered those men to be kind, gentile, generous, and respectful of mutually respectable women.

She inquired politely during post-coital pillow talk about their careers. They were woozy, pliable, and talkative, almost boastful, about the details of their successes. She discovered the best of them were engineers turned entrepreneurs. So, engineering and business filled out her study curriculum.

Upon exiting the elite resort program, she was stunned to discover the largesse deposited from her first resort encounter. The Drake Industries preferred stock made her a multi-millionaire.

She was now roaming the corridors of the Drake Industries annual shareholders meeting. Her portfolio was in the top ten of shareholders but dressed in her sexy but fashionable woman's business suit, she was assumed to be someone's money honey, or even arm candy, and, basically ignored by the money managers whose jobs involved playing with someone else's wealth. But Clarissa was here because she was managing, and augmenting, her own money.

Everyone was gathered for Mr Drake's keynote speech. The top shareholders were seated in the honorific first row, including Ms Connors, to the surprise of many of the others. Mr Drake strode onstage to thunderous applause and posed behind the podium.

"Welcome all. I am so glad to see you here. We have had a spectacularly profitable year to all of your benefits. The dividends will be posted and deposited at the end of the convention."

His hand gestured to the front row.

"And a special welcome to our founding investors whose foresight and loyalty have been richly rewarded."

He paused momentarily to sweep his hand from one end of the front row to the other. And did a double take, stunned to see a familiar face and body wearing an expensive wool business suit. Her legs below the skirt were long and muscular-toned, and wearing red stilettos.

He hadn't seen Clarissa since his suntan lotion duty and its pre-event coaching. He had forgotten about his winning offer way back when. Now here she was, gracing his convention with her luscious presence.

He gathered his mind and continued his speech. When finished he left the stage to the care of his underling executives and their detailed presentations.

When the activities broke for intermission, Clarissa followed the crowd into the hallway. As she was being chatted up by a mutual fund manager, a burly black-suited security guard with the typical white coiled wire earpiece came to her side. Addressing the money man, he performed his task.

"Excuse me, sir. I need a moment with Ms Connors."

The man deferred to the football linebacker-sized security dude.

"Ms. Connors, if it wouldn't be an inconvenience, Mr Drake requests your indulgence for a private conversation."

"Of course. When?"

"Now, if you're available, or he can rearrange things to meet your needs."

She set down her drink on the high-top table

"It's okay. I will make time now."

She stepped off in the direction indicated and the guard followed at a polite distance, giving her directions from behind.

The money man just stared as she walked away. Who WAS this woman that Mr Drake deferred himself to her schedule and convenience?

Clarissa arrived at the hotel penthouse suite's door. Her escort reached past her and opened it. She stepped inside and saw a few men intently listening as Mr Drake, his back to her, spoke to them.

"Yes, I agree that a stock split will increase the affordability of the shares to smaller investors. It's good finance, and as the number of shareholders grows, good for politics. More skin in the game."

He looked around at his exclusive audience who had stopped looking at him. He turned to the direction of their stares.

Clarissa stood tall in her heels, her hands folded in front, the blazer hiding but hinting at her centrally exposed breasts and cleavage. It didn't take long for Mr Drake to wrap things up.

"Gentlemen, thanks for coming, and thanks for your counsel. Please excuse me as I have a very important appointment with one of our earliest and biggest investors.

The men filed out, each giving her a polite greeting. The guard watched them leave and then closed the door when Mr Drake dismissed him with a wave.

Clarissa stood still while Mr Drake looked her up and down. Then he slowly stepped to her, took her hands, and executed a bijou dual kiss.

"You wouldn't believe how often I thought of you after that fateful night. Where is she? What is she doing? And now here you are. It's so wonderful to see you."

"You always knew where I was. Why didn't you return?"

"My dear, you were like a sexual drug; I was terrified of becoming addicted to your enchantments. Like any addiction, total abstinence was the only path to follow."

They silently held hands, staring into each other's eyes. Mr Drake's voice was slow and tentative, fearing rejection of his request.

"There is the main investors' banquet tonight. I would be honored if you would accompany me. Would you grace my table and, frankly, the whole affair... please?"

"I can't say no to such a gallant request. Of course, I'll come. When may I expect you to get me?"

"Unfortunately, I have a prior reception with some boring institutional investors. It's really not their money and still, they are the clingiest people I have ever met. I won't insult you by their presence. I will send my personal bodyguard to collect you. Now let's sit and catch up."

They sat side by side on the couch. Clarissa related her years of meeting true gentlemen... and some other ungentlemanly men; fulfilling their fantasies, peccadilloes, and learning their business acumen. How she attended college while attending to those daily, and nightly, encounters.

Time passed and she needed to take her leave to get ready for the banquet. Her guardian guide almost magically appeared and walked her back to her suite.

*** Banquet ***

Clarissa was running late. She had taken extra time to bathe, and preen. The guard waited patiently for the boss's accompaniment; her safety was his responsibility.

Finally, she appeared at her door and the astonished guard, attuned to having seen many things while working for Mr Drake, still couldn't suppress his double take.

Look up 'gorgeous' in the Pictionary and the photo would pale against the vision presented by Clarissa.

She had donned the same fashion style as the one she had worn to begin her night of ecstasy with Mr Jackson before joining the exclusive resort program, the same resort where she had first encountered Mr Drake.

He had never seen her in this type of exotic dress and she wanted to show it to him now. Her hair was pulled back scalp tight in a long waist-length ponytail, anchored by a real 24-caret solid gold clip that she bought for herself. It was a trifle that she could well afford. Her facial makeup was sultry and perfect: dark eyes, high blushed cheeks, fire engine red man-baiting lipstick.

Her dress was black micro knit, with narrow pleated shoulder panels connected from neck to waist, leaving a wide central opening that revealed the inner slopes of her breasts. The back was bare and her boobs hinted their fullness with peeks of sidewinder droop folds. No brassiere was possible and she was wholly content to present herself in public without one.

The skirt was ankle length but that didn't matter; the side slit revealed her right hip and leg with every step she took, from her waist downward to her red-soled black strappy heels.

Nothing and no one could have looked more ready-to-be-fucked. Yet, she was untouchable with her escorting guard standing by. She intended to tease every one of those arrogant money-men who had dissed her with their cheesy approaches during the conference that day.

The guard recovered his professionalism and crooked his elbow for her hand. She took it with a polite 'thank you' and walked beside him. He set a moderate pace, enough to flash a small amount of leg but more noticeable to him, to set up a bounce in her boobs beneath the loose dress.

They arrived at the banquet room. The security at the door stepped aside. Obviously, the lady with their bulky colleague did not need any additional checking of her invitation credentials.

The buzz of conversation dimmed as Clarissa stepped between the tables, with their smattering of empty seats. Everyone wondered at whose table the dynamite maiden would be seated. She continued forward past the pedestrian crowd to the front of the room and was seated by her tuxedoed burly escort one seat left of the center of the head table. The other head table VIPs already seated turned to look at the woman who occupied the coveted place of honor.

At that moment, a cheer and applause rose as Mr Drake entered the rear of the room. He worked his way through the tables, stopping to glad-hand many of his patrons and investors. The political protocols ended as he made his way to the head table and took the last remaining seat at the center table, next to Clarissa.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"You look stunningly marvelous, my dear. I hope you wore that outstanding dress just for me."

Clarissa made a stage-worthy look of coyness for the watching crowd. Then leaned over to make her own whispered hope.

"The dress is only temporary for the banquet. I hope later we can dispense with it."

That was a welcome retort. Mr Drake's pants seemed to feel tighter as his cock twitched beneath the concealing tablecloth. He adjusted his pants, noted by Clarissa to her joy.

The meal was served and the speeches were given by financial and operational department heads. Production and profits were increasing exponentially to everyone's happiness.

During the drawn-out wordiness, Clarissa slid a hand over Mr Drake's thigh, rubbing her palm over his pant leg, hidden from view by the draping tablecloth. She rose higher and rubbed along his fly and the swelling underneath. Mr Drake was nearly in pain with the crowding taking place in his groin.

Now it was his turn to run a hand up her dress slit exposed leg. The skin was smooth and warm to his touch. He ran higher and found no sign of underwear. She was being very daring, and naughty indeed, with this exotic dress.

And it was his turn again to cap off the evening's festivities. His speech was brief and encouraging, summarizing the successes of everyone in the room. He had a longer version ready but his mind was elsewhere, anxious to get back to his penthouse suite and into Clarissa's loving embrace.

And with that, the banquet was concluded.

*** Bedroom ***

The burly bodyguard appeared from nowhere and made a path through the crowd as Clarissa followed Mr Drake on his last well-wishing greetings to the notable people he passed. Those same and others got a closeup eyeful of Mr Drake's special guest. In the hallway, they continued to the elevators and onto his hotel penthouse suite. At the apartment's door, he turned to his bodyguard.

"Thank you, James. I'll take it from here."

"Very good, sir. Have a good night."

Mr Drake looked Clarissa up and down: the fantastic face and hair, the loosely covered boobs, and the exposed leg as she stood with one step forward. He murmured with a nod, loud enough for James, and Clarissa, to hear.

"Oh, yes. I think I will."

James turned and left. This was not the first time he had escorted a sexy lady to his boss's bedroom. But sometimes, Mr Drake was only pantomiming his interest in an empty-headed gold digger. At that point, he would spitefully swap himself out and let James take over. James had enjoyed numerous surprised struggle fucks with the unsuspecting victim of Mr Drake's sexual bait and switch.

Obviously, from the way his boss was treating this young lady, it wasn't his turn tonight, if ever. Oh well, the hotel was teeming with waitresses and housekeepers who had flirted with him all day. He was sure to find one, or two, to warm his bed and suck his cock. He started to stroll the corridors, hunting for candidates.

Mr Drake led Clarissa inside to the main room sofa and held her hand as she sat. He asked her preference of drink but she demurred. The banquet had been delicious and she had drunk lightly of the aperitifs. She wanted all of her senses and sensualities alert for Mr Drake's reunion.

They had already conversed earlier and any further chit-chat only delayed their mutual intent. She rose again when he offered his hand; she was smitten and would follow him willingly wherever he led.

He led her to the bedroom with its grand king-size bed and fluffy pillows and comforter. Holding her hands, he drew her in for a kiss. It felt like a spark when their lips touched. But the softness of her mouth, slightly open to allow a tongue tip tickle, was a magic that, once sampled, he was loathe to end.

She slipped her hands away from his and lifted her arms to circle his neck and shoulders. Her soft free breasts pressed against his tuxedo shirt. His hands moved to her hips and drew her midsection to press his groin. The smooching continued, their faces torquing to rub wet lips on wet lips, trying different angles to find the most pleasure.

They broke it off, each staring into the other's eyes. It just felt good to stand and hug, feeling the warm touch of the other. But libidos had been awakened and Mother Nature demanded satisfaction of her propagation compulsion.

Mr Drake's hands rose to Clarissa's dress neck strap and his fingers looked for the clasp. She raised her hands to capture his and halt the quick disrobing.

"No... you first."

She placed his hands by his side and still staring into his eyes, she began to undo his bowtie. It was a real one, a band that circled under his shirt collar. Of course, it was; no elite alpha male would stoop to a clip-on.

The suit jacket lapels peeled easily over his shoulders; he shrugged to assist the glide down his arms. He tossed it aside.

Her fingers plucked the shirt studs at his chest and cuffs. She placed them safely on the side table, unsure of the value of the gems. Probably real and expensive, not to be lost. He shrugged off his shirt in kind and tossed it aside to join the jacket.

He looked down when he felt her hands unbuckling his belt but nothing more there. He watched her breasts jostle as she squatted on her heels, her lovely leg exposed by the dress slit. She untied his shoes; ties, of course, not loafers. Successful entrepreneurs never loaf.

He assisted her to remove his shoes and sox. Still squatting, she worked the pants snap and zipper. Spreading the waistband, she slid them down his legs. He helped tread them off. She tossed them to join the rest of his discarded formal wear.

She paused, looking up at his steady face looking down. Her fingers touched the boxer's waistband.

"May I?"

He was a bundle of nerves, wrought by her assertive gentleness. He could not vocalize a response; it seemed like his heart was pounding in his throat. He gave a small nod.

She pulled outward and lower over his manhood. Of course, she had seen it before, even tasted it. And many others like it, but unlike it. At this moment, at this place, it was beautiful. The knob was somewhat engorged, the shaft a bit extended and his dark pubic hairs glossy and fluffy.

The ball sack hung low encasing the two big spheres. She placed a finger at the center seam and lifted, saddle-bagging the scrotum. Her thumb covered over the base of his cock and she pinched them together.

Another finger on her other hand pressed the penis' top slit, wiggling around to stimulate the shallow pink inner flesh. He gave a hop and jogged back to dislodge the penile invader but she held him to her touch with the groinal pinch.

That was enough for now. He was naked and aroused; Clarissa thought that to be the perfect condition for a man fated to fuck her.

She let go of his genitals, stood, and cupping his cheeks, resumed their passionate kiss. He played along as long as he could but he couldn't hold out for very long.

His hands stroked up her bare back to her neck and the dress clasp there. He paused; it was his turn at romantic service. Breaking off, he asked.

"May I?"

She leaned in, her cheek against his as she whispered a sultry reply in his ear.

"Yes... please..."

He continued his unclipping and then simply let go.

The dress top fluttered down her body, inverting at the waist belt to form a subdued additional leg cover. Mr Drake's eyes were filled with the wonderous beauty of her breasts: round orbs of smooth skin capped with broad brown nipples. He halted his hands on the way to the targets. His voice pled to be affirmed.

"May I?"

"Yes... yes, please...:

He was gentle in his touch. He lifted the pair from underneath, supported on his extended fingers. The weight and firm softness were as he remembered and dreamed of from long ago. His thumb pads brushed just beyond the areola rims from below. Even that small move brought on a reactive puckering of the outer bumps.

She took his hesitancy as a sign of respect and leaned forward to give him a peck on his lips. The masses fell deeper into his supporting touch. She whispered her permission.

"You can do more if you like. I think you want to. Go ahead."

He did want to do more but this was not a time to rush like one was gulping down fast food; this was a time to savor each morsel of the many flavors and spices of the gourmet feast being lovingly served, course by course.

He let his hands slide out beneath the roundness; his thumbs rose to circle each nipple disk, bringing out fully the circuital nodes. After a few slow revolutions, he felt Clarissa's spine give a tiny shudder and knew he was being effective.

He broke off the mammary caresses. Her dress was hanging from her waist; the top half with its narrow-pleated folds, was far less than half of the backless dress. He found the key waist clasp at the peak of the leg revealing slit. It clicked open with barely a flick, a daringly fragile connection, adding to the risqué boldness of the occupant.

The dress fluttered apart and fell away. Mr Drake's earlier exploration up her thigh beneath the table had ended without conclusion. He now saw that she went commando in the erotic dress in front of her public peers. This was truly an intrepid woman.

Her pussy was shaved bare, different from his natural mien. This again was her sign of deference to men, regardless of their macho ego. She might get her nose tickled but she didn't want to force that on the men's noses.

Her hands fell to his erection and she stroked the shaft, more solid now with the increased visual stimulation.

"Will you follow me, Mr Drake?"

She back-stepped in her heels, cock in hand, towards the bed, stepping over and out of the pooled dress at her feet. He followed her step for step until her thighs butted the edge of the mattress. Sitting, she twisted her legs onto the bed and lay sideways facing him, patting the mattress, inviting him to lay beside her.

He artfully climbed in and lay on his side facing her. She nudged his shoulder and he rolled to a supine pose. Her lips kissed his cheek; she whispered as she slowly stroked his shaft.

"Do you remember our first time? I do. You gave me such joy and satisfaction. Close your eyes and think back."

He did and their first time was a wonderful memory. And memories are good, but reality is even better. His cock got harder from both memories and manipulations.