*** 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."
