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Birthdays are a very special time; a time of happy memories; a time of presents. And a very special gift indeed was to be young Akira's marking the rite of passage on the day when the boy would become a man.
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The private elevator glided up to the top floor in a whispered rush as Gresham managed to sneak a sideways glance at his attractive traveling companion -- the tall good-looking blonde who stood perfectly still, facing the golden double doors. Her lean figure cut a neatly trim profile in that sharply-tailored business suit: her manner; calm, cool and collected as she clutched the briefcase holding her ever-present laptop with both hands held in front of her. If the woman was nervous she hid it well.
Gresham smiled to himself. He knew Kiyoshi-san would be pleased, secretly delighted to be presented with this prize: the beautiful American woman -- by his most thoughtful Vice-President. He well knew how much the old man lusted after tall blondes; the kind with that long streamlined figure of a fashion model. The kind built just like Stormy Cartwright.
The delicate Japanese girl who opened the door was exquisitely made up, her willowy body wrapped in the traditional robe of a Geisha. With a gracious smile and a bow that was low enough to show proper respect to the honored guests of her esteemed master, she welcomed them into the cool interior of a darkened room.
At the far end of the room sat a slender Japanese in an impeccable business suit. He held himself with an imposing air behind a sleekly modern conference table of shiny ebony. The man sat perfectly upright and ramrod stiff, with the sort of cold resolute look that Gresham had come to expect from senior executives in Japan's most prestigious corporations. At his left, sat a young Japanese, not much more than a boy, also neatly dressed in an expensive suit, but a bit chubbier, and with a face that was impassive if not as dignified as the older man's.
"Wait here." Gresham whispered out of the corner of his mouth as his assistant followed him into the room and now stood nervously two paces behind, her back to the door.
As Gresham stepped forward, the Geisha bowed and backed away, padding across the deep rug to take her place on the floor to one side of the room. She lowered herself to sit with legs tucked under her. But Gresham never let his eyes stray from the old bald man as he walked the five paces to stop before the gleaming desk. He stiffened, and bowed from the waist.
"Good evening, Kiyoshi-san, it was good of you to allow us to visit."
The old man moved ever so slightly bringing his narrow black eyes fully to bear on his subordinate. Kanji Kiyoshi, Chairman of the Board of ITTO Corporation gave a barely perceptible nod. He seemed detached, as if above the world's concern, while the boy at his side was a different case entirely. He may have been a teenager or even older -- it was hard to tell. In any case, he seemed especially eager and was having trouble maintaining the rigid control that was demanded by his place at the table. Even now he was leaning forward, with interested eyes fixed on the stately blonde who stood waiting in the shadows.
Kiyoshi greeted Gresham in English, formally but with courtesy, and introduced the boy at his side as his nephew, Akira. He explained that Akira had just come of age. In fact, it was his birthday today. Tomorrow he was to be accepted into the corporation, and he wished the boy to gain certain ..."experiences." Now the American and his Japanese boss exchanged pleasantries until, almost as an afterthought, the old man inquired after the blonde who had been left waiting in the doorway.
"Ah..yes. This lady works for me, Sir,...well, my apologies, Sir. She actually works for you, at ITTO's New York Office. Ms. Cartwright is my Personal Assistant, and while we are in Tokyo she will, of course, be glad to serve you, Kiyoshi-san,...in whatever capacity you may desire.
"Humm.." Kiyoshi grunted, his gaze shifting to the exquisite long-limbed, beauty waiting respectfully in the shadows. Gresham saw the old man's eyes light up. He beckoned Gresham to him, and whispered something in his ear.
Gresham nodded. Backed up; turned to his assistant.
"Ms. Cartwright, the honorable Company Chairman wishes to meet you. Please step up."
The blonde set down her laptop and moved obediently into the center-lit room. She turned to Gresham and was about to say something; but he shook his head, smiled at her, and nodded his encouragement. The woman turned back to the desk, and bowed in the Japanese fashion as she had been taught.
The Company Chairman uttered a few guttural words in Japanese as he studied the thirtyish blonde at the far end of the room. Gresham translated. "Mr. Kiyoshi is pleased to welcome you, and he wonders if you would come closer and remove your clothes so he may get a better look at you. This lady here will be glad to assist you."
The bald head nodded approvingly at the English words and looked with pleased interest upon this, his newest acquisition. The well-dressed businesswoman looked at the two Japanese who were watching her with obvious interest. She turned to Gresham, as if seeking his reassurance.
"Go on, Stormy," he whispered. "Here we go. From this point on you must do what you are told here, exactly what you are told. Don't screw this up. Remember, it means a lot -- to us, both of us."
The Geisha now glided forward, stepping up behind the American woman and helping her to slip the suit jacket of her shoulders. Stormy went to reach for top button of her blouse, but her helpful handmaiden had already moved in and was attacking the front buttons, leaving the blond girl to stand there with hands loosely at her sides, simply letting herself be undressed; her pale face tense but expressionless, chin held high as she was being stripped.
Standing perfectly still under the lights, Stormy felt her loosened blouse being removed, pulled from her skirt, taken down her dangling arms; then her helper stepped aside, careful not to obscure the view of all three males who watched with such rapt attention.
Now the three males took in the sight of the young woman in her brassiere; her slim chest and creamy, smoothly contoured shoulders. Delicate breasts nestled cozily in the thin beige pouches of a delicate bra; nipples dimly visible through the sheer fabric. Now the Geisha was undoing her narrow skirt, working it down Stormy's hips. A nudge at the ankle urged her to lift her feet so the crumpled skirt could be pulled free from her shoes.
She straightened up before her male admirers; Stormy Cartwright in pantyhose and brassiere was an inspiring sight indeed! The old man gave a murmur of genuine approval; the boy couldn't keep still, but wiggled excitedly in his chair; his eyes were wide and he seemed to be flushed and sweating.
The Geisha wasted no time in stepping up behind the taller American girl. She unhitched the bra and let it fall into her hands freeing Stormy's floppy little breasts to settle into place. The three males were staring, three pair of eyes drawn instantly to the American woman's newly-exposed chest -- two flattened mounds with pert up-tilted nipples. No one moved. The dutiful Geisha brought over a chair for Stormy, then knelt at her feet to assist in removing shoes and stripping the clinging pantyhose down her legs. As they watched intently, Stormy lifted herself off the chair, worked her panties down her hips and handed them to her assistant, all the while ignoring the greedy eyes that devoured her naked body.
"Stand up" Gresham's voice was business-like, even perfunctory.
The nude girl rose to her feet to stand before them.
A curt command was spat out in a Japanese growl.
"Now, get up on the table; kneel on it. Move. On hands and knees!"
Now tense and uneasy, Stormy moved to obey. The attentive Geisha helped her climb up on the smoothly polished top of the conference table. Stormy was avoiding Gresham's eyes; he could only wonder at what thoughts were going through her head -- to be exposed like this, to be made to perform for these men.
The Japanese grunted.
"Our host says you are very beautiful on your knees. He approves. Now crawl forward, slowly, all the way, right up the table."
Kiyoshi leaned forward to better watch the blond nude move as she closed in on him; the boy licked his lips; fidgeted in his chair. Stormy kept her eyes on the shiny black tabletop as she padded to the head of the table, there to stop just inches from the seated Corporate President.
The harsh Japanese words came out like a gunshot.
"He wants you to raise your head. Look at Kiyoshi-san." Gresham translated.
Stormy looked up to find the hard black eyes staring into hers from only a few inches away. She froze, mesmerized by those eyes that pinned her in place.
Still looking into her big blue eyes, the imperious man brought a hand up and reached under her to cup a dangling tit. Her expression never changed as he fingered her hanging beast, fondled her, thoughtfully thumbed a rubbery nipple. Suddenly his fingers closed; he squeezed, gently at first, than harder, gripping her captive breast so hard that she was forced to close her eyes and suck in a shivering gasp of breath.
The young lad sat fascinated: his eyes riveted on the erotic caresses that were even now starting to heat up the woman. Kiyoshi turned to him as he gave up the dangling breast and spat out something, short and curt. The boy brightened up, grinned from ear to ear, nodding vigorously.
Bending forward, he eagerly reached under Stormy's body to grab her other breast with a hot and sweaty hand, clutching the small handful of tittie-flesh, pumping the supple breast, relishing the exciting feel of the softly pliant mound with that deep firmness that yielded to his tightening fingers while the woman could do no more than close her eyes, arch back and sway. The Japanese lad was clearly enjoying himself, gleefully feeling up the mature Western woman who bit her lip but still couldn't stifle the low ragged moan that escaped in spite of her best efforts.
He went on eagerly manipulating those supple breasts that now filled both of his cupped hands, fondling the woman incessantly until an abrupt command from the boy's uncle caused him to pull his hand away leaving her, still on all fours, hot, flushed and panting through parted lips, excited in spite of herself.
Another Japanese order was translated. "Now turn around,...and back up." She shuffled to obey, acutely aware that this maneuver would bring her naked bottom practically into the face of the Chairman of the Board of ITTO.
"Head down...on the table." The words sent a thrill thorough her; she obediently lowered her forehead to the polished wood and arched her back, presenting her buttocks for his inspection. She stayed there like that for long moments, not daring to move. She could feel eyes probing her most intimate parts. A quiver ran through her. She knew this was making her wet.
She felt hands, cool and dry hands, curving to fit her rear cheeks, following their tight curves. A hand snaked between her legs to cup her blond vulva, fondled her lavishly there, feeling her softness, the moist heat of her furry crotch. She whimpered, hips twitching in growing excitement.
