Facing The Consequences

Chapter 1

"Those are my terms. Under the table, right here, right now."

He looked at her incredulously and wondered how a simple business lunch could have taken such a left turn. His immediate reaction was to laugh it off but the cool stare of her icy blue eyes told him that she was in total earnest.

Attractive as she was there was no way he was going to do it but he found himself checking out the adjacent tables notwithstanding.

"Look, you're a very beautiful woman but I'm a married man now."

"A married man who needs me to bend the rules for him so that he can stave off bankruptcy."

Everything about her bespoke her Finnish nationality; her slim, athletic, build, her thick blonde hair but most of all her perfectly proportioned face. Her high cheek bones and her full mouth gave the impression of always being on the verge of a smile but, at that moment, her expression was one of fixed determination.

"So what is it to be?"

Only her accent betrayed her English upbringing. The slightly elongated public school vowels combined, even now, with a Nordic lilt gave her voice a certain sexiness but that was the last thing on his mind.

In the scheme of things it was a small price to pay. This one contract would give the company the breathing space that it needed. He took another quick look around and then leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially.

"Look, I'll do it; but not here. Come back to my hotel."

"Don't try my patience."

He was surprised to find that the prospect of being unfaithful to his wife, even in this bizarre manner, made him feel guilty but, equally, he could not return to London without sealing the deal. Failure would not only take the company to the precipice it would bring some very unwelcome attention from Customs and Excise.

She saw the moment of surrender in his eyes and watched in amusement as he went through the pantomime of knocking his napkin off of the table. The only other customers in line of sight were two women who were engaged in animated conversation and neither of them looked as he bent down in a single movement and slipped beneath the table.

It was a table for four and the draped cloth was long enough to hide him from sight but he now felt totally absurd, that is until he saw her legs. She was wearing a tailored two piece business suit and somehow, completely unnoticed, she had managed to hike her skirt up to her waist.

Sheathed in black stockings, her legs seemed to go on forever as his eyes drifted up to where her suspenders formed a stark contrast with her creamy thighs and then to her panties. He was guessing that their expense was matched only by their fineness. He could clearly see her labia, with their neat dressing of blonde hair, pressed flat by the gauzy gusset.

He felt a mix of emotions as he continued to stare. Guilt, arousal and distaste all vied for supremacy but it was pragmatism that won out. The sooner he started the sooner it would be over and so, having steeled himself, he leaned forward.

He closed his eyes and, pursing his lips, he laid a gentle kiss on her sex.

"That's not going to do it. I want a little more enthusiasm."

She spoke just loud enough for him to hear but he cursed her nevertheless feeling sure that she would be overheard by the neighbouring table. He kissed more firmly and caught the first tang of her on his lips as, notwithstanding her outwardly cool demeanour, she started to become aroused.

"There's a good boy. Don't move."

She reached beneath the table and pulled her panties to one side.

"Lick me..."

"That wasn't the deal!"

He spoke in an angry whisper but she replied quietly but firmly.

"I've upped the ante. Now lick me or the deal's off."

He wanted to get up and storm out but, having come so far; he could not throw it all away. With the thought that, once he was reestablished, he would be able to crush both her and her company he did as he was told.

He licked over her mound with a broad sweep of his tongue and was surprised to find that her close cropped pubic hair was already damp suggesting that she had been aroused for some time. This discovery disconcerted him. He thought that she had acted on a whim but he knew now that she had it planned all along.

He could hear her nonchalantly perusing the menu as he continued with his labour and, as minutes passed, he wondered just how long it would be before she felt that her point had been made. He was about to bring an end to it when the waitress came to the table.

He froze as her feet came into view but a sharp rap of the knee to the side of his head made it clear that she did not want him to stop. He took up where he left off only to find that she was even more aroused.

She ordered for both of them and, as the waitress left, she issued a new instruction..

"Get your tongue inside. Make me come."

All of his instincts cried out to him to put a stop to it but she was now so hot and wet that it was not going to take much more to bring her to the edge. Girding himself for one final effort, he pushed his tongue between the slick folds of her labia and then upwards to where her clitoris was already standing proud.

He flicked his tongue over the smooth kernel and within seconds her body became rigid, shaking almost imperceptibly, as she climaxed whilst at the same time trying to appear, to all the world, as though nothing untoward were happening.

As soon as it was over he got back up but, as he instinctively looked across to make sure no one had noticed, it was to find that the two women who had previously appeared so engrossed were now staring right at him.

He regained his seat and felt a flush of embarrassment come to his, already warm, cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to get up and leave but she sat serenely and totally unabashed. He still had his napkin in his hand but, as he brought it to his face, she snatched it from him.

"I think not."

He reeked of her arousal and she knew it.

With every passing second his hatred increased but he could not afford to antagonize her. He waited until the main course was finished before he excused himself and went to the toilet where he was finally able to clean himself up.

They skipped dessert and ordered coffee. When it arrived he reached for his briefcase.

"I have the contracts here. They just need your signature."

"Not here. Let's go back to your hotel."

"Look, I did as you asked."

His voice quavered with anger but she replied unhurriedly.

"How badly do you need this deal?"

Without another word she got up and, left with no choice, he followed her out. He was staying at the Scandic, just a little further down Mannerheimintie from the restaurant, and less than ten minutes later they were in his room.

"So what do we do now, fuck?"

He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the disdain from his voice.

"Don't flatter yourself. Lie down on the bed."

He was at a loss. He had convinced himself that she wanted to go to bed with him and he was left with just the slightest feeling of unease. She had not told him to undress and so he laid down still in his shirt and tie.

Once he was settled she took off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. As she turned away he glanced surreptitiously at her breasts which looked even more impressive now that she was only wearing a blouse.

"Just what do you want of me?"

"Of you? Nothing. You are nothing to me. Our deal has certain mutual advantages but I can do without it. The question is, can you?"

She came back towards the bed and then, without taking her eyes from his, she reached up under her skirt and slipped her panties down her legs.

Stepping out of them, she moved up onto the bed until she was straddling his shoulders. He was well built and as fit as any thirty year old could hope to be; it would have been a simple matter to throw her off but, sorely tempted as he was, he kept his anger in check.

The truth was that he was not a great fan of oral sex. He did it only because he knew it was expected of him He did not like the taste and, being fastidious, he hated what was, to his mind, the squalid nature of the whole process. Now, as she moved up over him, her sex just inches above his face, he felt that she had, somehow, tapped into his aversion.

Without another word she settled onto his face and flicked her skirt over his head. The black cashmere immediately plunged him into darkness and he had to fight to quell the mild claustrophobia to which he had always been prone.

He waited for her to lift herself so that he could reluctantly use his tongue but she seemed content simply to sit there with her weight bearing down. After a moment or two it became painful and he decided that enough was enough but, just as he was about to dislodge her, she started to move. At first it was just a rocking motion but, slowly but surely, the degree of travel was amplified.

To his absolute disgust she began to rub herself over the whole of his face a process which was facilitated by the fact that she was both hot and very wet. In the deep gloom beneath her skirt the air quickly became fetid and it seemed harder to breath. The only saving grace was that she seemed to be reveling in his humiliation and he was dimly aware that she was moaning as she picked up the pace.

Her movements became less controlled and she was no longer moving back and forth but simply grinding herself onto his face as she worked her way towards her inevitable climax. When it came she froze in place and he could distinctly feel the pulsing of her sex followed by the warmth of moisture. Her moans gave way to a series of panted breaths which almost made it sound as if she was sobbing.

Once it was over she climbed off him and adjusted her skirt.

"Let me have the contracts."

He got up from the bed, his hair disheveled and his face ruddy and wet. He adjusted his tie but he knew that both it and his shirt were going into the bin as soon as she left.

He took the contracts out from his case and she looked them over cursorily before signing. She handed them back and was on the way to the door when he spoke.

"Can you tell what the fuck that was all about."

She looked back at him and, for a moment, he thought he was not going to get an answer but, after a pause, she replied.

"In Gothenburg last year, at the annual conference, what was it you said to my boss? Oh yes, "Women would progress so much faster in this industry if they only knew when to offer a blowjob.""

With that she left the room and he was left wondering how the hell she had overheard what was intended to be a private, ribald, remark.

Back in London, with the contract sealed, he felt that he could put off breaking the news about the companies share price to his wife. Nowadays, it was her money that was keeping the company afloat but it had not always been so.

When they had married he had been a successful footballer. He had served his dues in the lower leagues and had finally been signed up for the premiership. His salary was eye-watering and his rugged good looks ensured that there was a queue of commercial sponsors waiting at his door. It had all come to an end with one sickening tackle. His leg was broken in two places and despite going under the surgeon's knife more often than he cared to remember he was never able to fully recover.

He tried his hand at football management but found that he was not cut out for it and so, taking the remainder of his compensation fund, he decided to invest his money in his father's wood pulp import business.

It was a bold gamble. His father had been ailing for a number of years and the company was sharing his fate but he believed that, with a strong investment of capital, he could turn round its fortunes.

In retrospect he could see that he was, in part, motivated by his jealousy of his wife's success. Her public relations company was going from strength to strength and the press no longer talked of her in terms of being his wife. Her star was bright in the firmament and her name loomed large in the headlines with his in smaller print.

He quickly discovered that he was not gifted with business acumen but, for a couple years after his father died, he was able to keep things afloat by trading on his name and fading reputation. More recently, margins in the paper trade had grown ever tighter and it was only with his wife's intervention that he had been able to keep the company solvent.

He was sitting in his office congratulating himself on his Finnish coup when his secretary rang through.

"There's a Ms.Arral here to see you."

"There's nothing in my diary."

"She doesn't have an appointment but she says she's from the Fraud Squad."

He felt his blood run cold and his immediate reaction was to refuse to see her but she now knew that he was in the office and a refusal would appear suspicious.

"Show her in."

If he was already nervous then Ms. Arral's presence only made him more so. She was a tall, heavy set woman, and he put her age somewhere around forty. She had pleasant features but there was something about her dark brown eyes that bespoke a world-weary experience.

"Ms. Arral, what can I do for you?"

She sat down without being asked and took some papers from her case.

"I am here to ask you some questions on behalf of the Finnish National Board of Customs"

He desperately tried to keep his features composed.

"And how can I help?"

"They are conducting an investigation into the affairs of FinnSullu."

His instinct was to cover the contract that lay on his desk but fortunately it was face down and she would not be able to see that the document was signed on behalf of the very company she was investigating.

"May I ask what sort of investigation."

"As you are aware FinnSullu is a pulp exporter. Our Finnish colleagues believe that they may be producing alcohol without the appropriate licences."

He gave an internal sigh of relief. The distillation of wood pulp to produce a fiery tasting sprit had been a by-product of the industry for years. It had started off as a perk for employees but was now being marketed commercially and there was money to be made. He was surprised that FinnSullu was involved but at least they were not on to his particular scam.

"And what has this to do with me?"

"The Finns have had some of FinnSullu's people under surveillance. You met one of them two days ago in Helsinki and took her back to your hotel. Would you be prepared to tell me what that was all about?"

He decided to act indignant.

"I don't think that that is any of your business."

She gave a resigned sigh.

"You produced some paperwork and she signed it. We would simply like to know the nature of the documentation."

"This is outrageous!"

"Look, I'm simply asking for your co-operation"

"I'm not sure that I like the imputation. Do you know who I am? I think it might be better if we bring this conversation to a halt. If you want to talk to me again make a formal appointment. Now, if you would kindly leave."

He stood up to make it clear that the meeting was at an end but she made no move to leave.

"I'm sorry that you've taken that attitude. The Finn's have no particular axe to grind with you but I'm beginning to think that you're hiding something."

"I've had enough of this. Perhaps you would care to give me the name of your senior officer."

She looked at him for a moment without speaking as though coming to a decision.

"You didn't ask how the Finns knew that documents were signed in that hotel room."

He had surrounded himself in a cocoon of self confidence but she had just picked at a loose thread. He felt he had no choice but to brazen it out.

"Enlighten me."

"You were filmed; through a window and at a distance but the quality is good enough."

"You're bluffing."

An ominous smile came to her lips.

"Let's put it to the test then shall we. I know what you did with that woman. I want you to do the same for me. If you do your wife need never know of the tapes existence if you don't...."

"That's blackmail!"

"You know, I do believe you're right, but someone has to teach you that you can't go around for the rest of your life treating people like shit just because you once had a name."

His thoughts crowded in on him. If a tape existed, and his wife was to see it, he was finished both personally and professionally. His guess, and hope, was that she was placing a bet. It was not an unreasonable assumption that he had taken the girl back to his hotel for sex and now she wanted some for herself. He flattered himself that he was an attractive proposition and she must have known that she was not the sort of woman who would normally attract a second glance from him.

"So you want me to fuck you, is that it? Right here? In my office."

She simply put her papers back in her case and then looked up at him.

"Best of luck with the divorce."

He could not take a chance, he had to know for sure.

"Just what is it you want from me?"

"You know exactly what I want."

He realized, in that instant, that she was not bluffing and, more horrifyingly, what she was expecting of him.

"Look, I think we've got off on the wrong foot. Let me take you to lunch and we can discuss this like reasonable people."

"Save your smile. In the normal course of events I wouldn't go to bed with a man like you to save my life. You are vain, arrogant and conceited but that is going to make it so much the sweeter when you get down on your knees."

The thought that anyone actually saw him in that way was like a slap to the face but he could see that she meant every word. Then, in an echo of Helsinki, he heard himself saying.

"I'm a married man."

"Not for very much longer. Now what is it to be?"

He could not believe that it was happening again but she had him painted into a corner. He glanced at the door, but he knew that his secretary would not disturb them, and she, seeing that look, knew that she had won.

For the next few seconds he stood frozen to the spot unwilling to bring himself to kneel and she was not going to make it any easier for him. She waited patiently until, with a resigned sigh, he dropped to the floor.

As soon as he did so she lifted herself slightly in the chair and raised her skirt.

"Take them off."

She was wearing black pantyhose, which had clearly seen better days, over a pair of nondescript sensible panties and he felt his stomach starting to rebel as he reached forward. She was not fat but her thighs were heavy and firm and it was a struggle as he tugged her underwear down her legs.

Once free she settled more comfortably in the chair and parted her legs. Her skin was good for a woman of her age but its pale lustre formed a stark contrast to her heavy growth of dark pubic hair.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't. You'll have to trust me."

He knelt there weighing up his options once more, trying to find a way out, but his hand was weak and he was sensible enough to know when to fold.

"Get on with it. I have other appointments."

He hated her for her peremptory tone, as though this was not going to be the highpoint of her sex life to date, and he had a sudden fear that she would brag about it afterwards but then who was likely to believe her?

He leaned in uneasily and as he got closer he was pleased to catch the smell of a rose scented soap; the unkempt state of her pubis had had him worried about the standards of her personal hygiene. He decided to be bold. He closed his eyes and gave one long lick, repressing a shiver at the coarse texture of her hair against his tongue.

With a second lick he was through the undergrowth but his tongue was assailed by a sharp tang. He wanted to pull away but he was experienced enough to know that she would take that as a greater insult; better to refuse altogether than to stop once having started.