Sales Presentation

It started as a normal workday. I arrived at work and made sure everything was set up for the big presentation that we were giving that morning. Not that I would be giving the presentation. No, no, no. That was the prerogative of the Marketing Manager and the Information Innovations Manager. I was just the lowly hack who wrote most of the code for the software we were going to flog and oversaw the development of the sales spiel. (I had to oversee that to make sure that MM didn't wander too far from the truth. He could make a rusty Volkswagen sound like a new Ferrari.)

The idea was that I would attend the presentation and be ready to answer any questions that the customer might have that MM and IIM couldn't handle. You know the sort of thing -- technical questions about the product.

A bit about myself. The name's Ronny. I am twenty, female, decent figure, fair of face, and even fairer of hair. The sort of girl that most men look at and write off as a dumb blonde. More fool them, where I am concerned, as I have a mind like a steel trap and I am a guru about things electronic and programming them.

I didn't mind taking a back seat at the presentations as I was being well paid to let the bosses take the credit. The people who counted knew who was responsible and that was reflected in my salary.

Half an hour before the presentation was due to start and neither MM nor IIM had fronted up, which was unusual. I didn't worry, though, as MM, for one, would have to be in hospital strapped to a bed before he'd miss a chance of a sale. IIM would only be there for the kudos and was redundant really.

At five minutes to the hour the client arrived and I stalled by arranging someone to prepare coffee and a snack, excusing the missing attendees and assuring Mr Renson that they would be there momentarily.

"Unavoidably delayed," I murmured, noting that he didn't seem impressed.

That's when my phone rang. I could see it was ITT and I very hastily answered it.

"Where are you?" I demanded. "MM's not here either, but the client is."

"I'm in hospital with a broken leg," came the reply. "As for MM my understanding is that he's strapped to a bed with severe internal injuries. We got cleaned up by a truck on the way to the office."

"What about the presentation?" I asked. I wasn't really being callous, but the client wasn't going to be too happy about being told to go home, no matter the circumstances.

"Not a problem," said ITT. "You can handle it. Get out there and make that sale. Ah, have to go. They're taking me to radiology."

I didn't say what I wanted to, but I certainly thought it.

"Problem?" asked Mr Renson.

"Yes, but with a solution," I replied. "The two gentlemen who were going to give the presentation have been in a slight accident. Accordingly I will be doing the presentation."

"I can delay until tomorrow if that helps," he offered, but I shook my head.

"I suspect they won't be out of hospital tomorrow, or this week, for that matter. It's not a problem as I know the presentation and the software."

We went into the conference room and I ran through the presentation. I thought I did it pretty well, too. I'd noticed him taking notes as I talked and closing the presentation I asked if he had any questions.

He did. Did he ever. He pin-pointed every spot where the presentation might have been a little weak and asked for clarification. He even asked for clarification of some of the clarifications. This is where my knowledge of the code came into its own as I knew all the answers. A lot of these questions the MM would have palmed off onto me anyway.

"What is your company's policy towards bugs in the code?"

"Our policy is that we don't have bugs in our code. We may have some undocumented features, but we also have a policy to either document these features so you can work around them or amend the code to remove that particular feature."

I gave him a bright smile with that information. I can call these things bugs as I was a programmer, but users were supposed to be told they are undocumented features, courtesy of Marketing Policy.

"I see. How many undocumented features are we likely to find?"

"Damn few," I said honestly. "We pay ten bucks for every bug found - the first two beta testers to find a specific bug getting the money. We also pay out a hundred to the first beta tester who can successfully crash the system. When the software comes out of beta testing it is extremely robust."

"I see. So anything that gets through that becomes an undocumented feature? Why do any errors slip past in the first place?"

"We can code for the normal user, and we can code for an idiot user, but no-one can code for a bloody idiot. You wouldn't believe what some users can do."

"I suspect that I would," he said with a grin. "I've met some."

He sat back and I waited for the next question. There weren't any, at least not about the software.

"I would like to send a couple of my people here to put the system through its paces," he said. "I won't say we'll buy it but your firm is very much in the running for the contract."

I promptly whipped out an NDA for him to sign. No signature and his people didn't touch the system. He signed it like a lamb. Why not? It didn't commit him to anything, just protected us against piracy.

With the NDA safely in my folder I produced an instruction manual.

"There will be no need for your people to come here to test the system," I told him. "Stapled to this manual you will find two userids and passwords that will permit you to access and use the system online. The manual will tell your people how to create their own database which will be on your computer, protected from unauthorised access. This will give your people the freedom to do what they like with the system. You can, if you prefer, send your people to us and we'll provide them with working space."

He nodded, stood up and we shook hands. He seemed satisfied and I felt well pleased. I thought I'd done really well.

"Now that our business is complete there's something else that I'd like to raise. You are a very attractive girl and I'll admit that I have a weakness for blondes. I'm also attracted to girls with a decent intellect and you appear to have that, as well."

Oh my god, he's going to ask me out. What the hell do I do? Accept or not? What do I want to do? He is an attractive man, even if somewhat older.

"I'm quite a wealthy man. Wealthy enough to give you a hundred dollars for each item of clothing you take off plus another hundred once you're naked to do what come naturally."

I couldn't help toting up the money. Two shoes, pantihose, panties, skirt, bra, blouse, jacket, and scarf. That's nine hundred dollars. Plus a hundred on top of that. I'd been propositioned before but never a thousand dollar proposition. Tax free, a little voice prompted me.

A horrible thought raised its head. Does no mean no contract? I wasn't selling myself for a contract, I'll tell you that right now. He must have seen the look on my face as he hastened to explain.

"This is purely between you and me and has nothing to do with the contract. I'll pass on my recommendation but then it takes its chances with two other products."

I dithered. I knew I should say no, loudly and clearly, but he was an attractive man and a thousand dollars is a thousand dollars. Then I relaxed.

"While I'd like to take you up on your offer we are in the middle of the conference room and others might want to use it," I said with a sigh, looking regretful.

Feeling a little regretful, too, but I won't mention that.

Instead of accepting no for an answer he took out his wallet and produced a small wad of what looked like hundred dollar notes. He fanned them out and they were most definitely hundred dollar notes. He flicked through them, counting out ten, and placed them on the table. I guess he'd also assessed what clothing I was wearing. Ye gods -- a thousand dollars just like that.

"If your Marketing Manager is anything like ours then he'll have uttered blood-thirsty threats against anyone who intruded in a presentation," he observed, and I had to admit that was true.

I was dithering again. I sort of wanted to do it but I was also shocked at myself for wanting to. How could I possibly agree to such a thing?

"Ah, what are you doing?" Not that I really needed to ask. He was standing right in front of me undoing the buttons on my blouse.

"Just undoing some buttons so it will be easier for you to take thing off," he said calmly. "I can't take them off myself, of course, because the deal is that you have to take your things off."

I was going, "Yes, but," when he interrupted me.

"Don't worry. You can always do things up again if that's what you want."

That was fine for him to say so but he had also undone the button at my skirt waist and unzipped it. I had to clutch hold of it to stop it dropping to the floor. He reached over and picked up the money.

"Why don't I tuck this in the pocket of your jacket so you don't forget it," he murmured, suiting actions to words.

"Hey! I haven't said I will and even if I do agree to get undressed it wouldn't be for the money. What do you think I am?"

"A very lovely girl that I want very much." He lifted my hand away from my skirt and it promptly slithered downwards, stopping at my knees as I hastily shifted my feet further apart. My pantihose were totally see through and he now had a view of my very flimsy panties.

He wasn't backwards about taking advantage of things. One hand went under my gaping blouse and ducked under my bra, closing over my breast. His other hand slipped between my legs, rubbing me through my panties. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

"Alright!" I snapped. "You've made your point. Just give me a minute."

I took off my scarf and jacket and laid them on the table. My blouse followed. Feet together and my skirt dropped to the floor with me stepping out of it and adding it to my other things. I was now standing in my undies.

I kicked off my shoes and rolled my pantihose down and peeled them off. Reduced to bra and panties and feeling embarrassed and excited, not really believing I was doing this. Turning away from him I slipped off my panties and reached behind me to unhook my bra. It dropped away and there I was, stark staring naked in the firm's conference room.

Then he was back to touching me again. Breasts and vulva, stroking them, teasing them. He bent his head and started suckling at my breast, both his hands now making free of my body. After a minute or so of this he slowly started sinking down onto his knees, his open mouth pressing against me the entire way.

Then his mouth was on me in a much more intimate way, his tongue darting between my lips, teasing and tantalising. I found myself just clutching at his head, wanting him to stop, afraid that he would. He was fast pushing me towards a climax and he hadn't even dropped his trousers. I didn't know what to think.

My assumption was that before I actually climaxed he'd stand up, drop his trousers, and take me. My assumption was wrong. His tongue kept flickering away, finding and teasing my clitoris. I was squirming about, twisting around under his diabolical touch, and the rotten man persisted until I climaxed. I really did. I climaxed and I hadn't even seen a penis. I couldn't credit it.

He rose to his feet, a big smile on his face, and finally undid his trousers. They dropped away and his erection was there. This wasn't a case of seeing a man's penis. This was far away and truly what is called an erection, almost frightening in its size. Just like that I wanted it.

He positioned himself against me. I was leaning back against the table and I could see he was pressing against the entry to my passage, in just enough to be engaged. He looked at me.

"Hard and fast or slow and easy?" he asked.

"Hard," I managed to stammer out, well past ready for him to take me.

"I thought you'd say that," he said with a small laugh, and drove into me.

That rotten man. He'd asked and I'd answered, so what did he do? Slowly, gently, he eased into me, somehow preventing me from forcing myself onto him. He managed to hold back that little bit, while I had to suffer through his cock ever so slowly filling me. By the time our groins came together I was glaring daggers at him and he was laughing at me.

"Relax," he said. "Now it's time for some fun."

He pulled right back, almost popping out he pulled back so far, and then he thrust back in, this time doing the hard and fast I'd requested, drawing a bit of a yelp from me, one hastily muffled as I remembered where we were. Oh, yeah. I could just imagine me getting vocal and someone checking to see if I was all right.

Now that he'd got serious he kept on in the same manner. I had a sneaky suspicion that he was trying to see if he could get me to start being vocal, which was infuriating, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I have to admit that, oh my god, he certainly gave me what for. His hands were playing with my breasts while his cock hammered me, apparently trying to drive me into submission. I swear that the table actually moved a couple of times he was driving in so hard and I was thinking that I'd probably wind up with bruises on my bum.

Not that I was complaining at the times. Things like thinking about bruises were just fleeting thoughts, my mind and body fully occupied with what he was doing to me. And what I was doing to him, to be honest, as I was pushing to meet him just as urgently as he was giving it to me.

It slowly filtered through my mind that the reason for the extended foreplay bringing me to a climax was simply to make sure I started on a high note and would reach a second climax fairly quickly. Not that it felt as though it was quick. I was so aroused that time just seemed to be standing still as his cock slid back and forth, drawing out the wildest sensations.

Then I was climaxing again (silently) and so was he (also silently and with a great deal of vigour). We separated, both of us breathing heavily. He hitched up his trousers while I grabbed for my clothes. Looking over at him I hissed out a warning.

"Don't you dare open that fucking door until I'm dressed," I snarled, and he just laughed at me. He did wait though, watching all the time I got dressed.

I escorted him out of the building afterwards, both of us just voicing mindless trivialities. As he headed off to his car I wondered if I'd hear from him again. I wasn't in a habit of doing one night stands, or in this case, one morning stands. Something different from the standard office routine.