Business Trip to Japan

I was sitting at my desk when I heard the familiar

tap tap

on my cubical wall. Not having a door means you make do with whatever approximation you can.

"Mark, I need you to go to Japan for me," my manager said.

I looked up from my monitor. I had been engrossed in a riveting and fascinating technology brief (

not!

), and welcomed the interruption. Even so, though, it took me a second to register what he said.

"I'm sorry," I said, snapping back into the moment. "Say that again?"

"I need you to go to Japan for me," he repeated. He smiled. "You like to travel, right?"

"Well, sure, I guess," I said, blinking. I don't go on trips very often. Being part of the corporate head office and not being a field guy, business trips were something of a rarity for me.

"Good!" he said. "You should go home and pack a bag then. Is your passport up to date?"

"Wait," I sputtered. "You mean

now

?"

He grinned. "No, not

now

."

"Oh, good!" I said, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a second there I thought -"

"Tonight," he interrupted.

When he saw the look on my face he laughed. Moving to the spare chair in my tiny cubicle he laid it out for me. "Look," he said, amiably. "We've got a really big deal that's on the line with this customer in Japan. The field guys are worried that we can lose millions if we don't give them a roadmap discussion about our plans over the next year or so."

"So why the rush?" I asked.

My manager sighed. "Well, I was supposed to go tonight but just got word that I'm supposed to do a presentation to our Circle of Five." He referenced the five Vice Presidents of the company we worked for, the level of executives that reported to the no-nonsense CEO. I understood that when the C5 (as they were known - we shortened everything into jargon in this company) called you, you dropped whatever you were doing.

This apparently included international trips to Japan.

"To be honest," he said, "I should have sent you in the first place. This is your project and you know it better than anyone."

This was true. I've been the lead on the new technologies for some time, and if anyone knew the benefits and value, it was me.

"So," he said, standing up. "I'm sorry to spring this on you last second -" he looked at his watch - "literally."

Just as he was about to leave, I thought of something. "Wait, just what are we looking to get out of this meeting?"

He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Get him to sign on the dotted line."

"Wait a minute," I said. My heart was pounding in my chest. "I can't make deals. I don't have signatory authority."

He smirked. "You do now, for this deal only. It's a huge responsibility, but I trust you and know you'll do fine. Besides, the account team will be there and will handle most of the details anyway. You're just the hired gun to get their CEO to understand why they should stay with us. You know, invest in us for the long haul."

I swallowed, hard. "CEO?"

I felt like I was walking into a game where I didn't know most of the rules. If I screwed this up, it could cost us tens of millions. Over the years, that number could be even higher.

The trip itself was blissfully uneventful though I spent most of the time attempting to sleep on the plane, without success. I took the opportunity to review something of the customer's history. I only casually glanced through some of the documents, though, preferring to prepare myself for the kinds of technical questions that were sure to emerge. This was hot new stuff, and I was passionate about it. I figured it was critical that I make sure that I had all my facts and details straight. I simply couldn't afford to blow the entire deal by getting anything wrong.

Everything went downhill as soon as I arrived at the airport in Narita, Japan. Turning my phone back on, I checked my work email only to discover the account team had decided that they would

not

be attending, and didn't even give me the courtesy to explain why. A few frantic (and ultimately ignored) emails later, I began to make my way through the airport.

Customs went as smooth as it ever does, which is to say that I was grilled by a very severe looking Japanese woman who didn't seem at all pleased that I knew no Japanese whatsoever. My little phrasebook only seemed to make her more irritated.

Baggage claim was even less fun, as I waited for the carousel to spit out my bag, and waited, and waited. I waited until the carousel simply stopped, and then had to explain to a very apologizing Japanese luggage agent where they could send my bag - if they ever found it.

So, exhausted, and clutching my carryon, I emerged into the arrivals hall to see a very formal-looking Japanese man holding a sign with my name on it.

"Hi, I'm Mark Jenkins," I said, nodding to his sign.

"Mr. Jenkins-san," the man said, and politely bowed.

I returned the gesture. "I wasn't expecting anyone to meet me at the airport," I said. "This is a nice surprise. Oh! I'm afraid i can't speak any Japanese." I added with regret.

The man smiled. "That is quite all right, Mr. Jenkins-san. I will be your interpreter on this trip. Mr. Sato does not speak any English."

Great

, I thought.

How am I supposed to get someone to sign on the dotted line with this language barrier?

I regretted not having more experience in these types of deals, and really wished I had some help. This was one hell of a first time to have all these things go wrong.

"My name is Hiro Mosoto," he was explaining. He looked around me. "Did you not bring any luggage?" he asked.

"They lost it."

He bowed extremely low. "My apologies, Mr. Jenkins-san. I assure you this is not the way the Japanese treat honored guests."

I was taken aback by the abruptness of his apology. "Mr. Mosoto," I said, trying to get him to stop. Then, after an awkward pause, I added, "-san. This is not your fault. My bag was lost in America, not here."

He stood up straight, and smiled a little. "Please, you can call me Hiro."

I held out my hand. "And you can call me Mark," I said. I was longing for a little informality.

I wasn't going to get it, however. Hiro looked a bit shocked. "No, Mr. Jenkins-san," he said, shaking his head firmly. "This is not the way it's done. I would show you no such disrespect in front of Mr. Sato."

It was slowly starting to dawn on me that Hiro's logic was sound. If I were to face the CEO of this company as an equal, it would not do to have a breach of etiquette. Mr. Sato (-san? What's the proper use for the formality? I was starting to feel hopelessly unprepared for what lay before me) would certainly not see his interpreter as an equal; I needed to follow suit if I had any hope of not screwing this up.

Hiro took me straight to the office. As I didn't have any bags to drop off at the hotel, I didn't object. I could have used some sleep, but apparently there was no way you would want to keep a man like Mr. Sato waiting.

The executive offices were outstanding. Giant fish tanks were everywhere, housing the most colorful fish I had ever seen. The office was awash in vibrant life, meticulously contained in gorgeous teak and cedar wood. The juxtaposition of chaos inside the tanks and meticulous rigid order for the rest of the office took my breath away.

Hiro led me to a conference room that looked like it doubled as a viewing room. There were three plush chairs arranged in a triangle, each with a laptop table conveniently placed beside them. Hiro suggested I choose a chair and I selected one. He excused himself to find Mr. Sato.

In the rich setting, I began to feel my heart pound hard against my chest again. Protocol... protocol... what's the proper way to greet the CEO of a multi-Billion dollar company?

The answer, of course, is

with respect

.

Mr. Sato came in, a lot younger than I expected. A thin handsome man in his early forties, he carried a bearing of poise and honor that I simply didn't see in my day-to-day life. I rose, and he cracked the smallest of a smile as he extended his hand. I took it, and bowed in greeting.

Mr. Sato was an attentive listener, as I went through my spiel and explained the projects I had been working on. It took a little time for me to get into the groove of speaking with an interpreter, but I quickly learned to keep my sentences short to give Hiro time to catch up and translate. Mr. Sato asked pointed, directed questions, showing a keen insight and intelligence. It was no wonder that he was the one in charge of the company. The man was brilliant.

"Mr. Sato-san says that he is very impressed with your presentation, Mr. Jenkins-san," Hiro translated for me after we had been talking for about two hours.

"Thank you," I said. Turning to face Mr. Sato, I said, "

Arigato

." Sato nodded, unsmiling. I wasn't entirely sure if "impressed" was a euphemism or not.

"Mr. Sato-san suggests that we take a break before continuing. He has additional questions that he must ask."

I nodded. A break sounded good. Spending an hour talking about a new technology with an interpreter was far more exhausting than I thought. In addition I hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane and was starting to feel like I would start yawning at any moment. The exhaustion of international flights coupled with intense technical conversations was starting to take its toll on my ability to recognize subtleties in the conversation.

Hiro pressed a button on a console next to his chair. Immediately the door to the room opened and three Japanese women entered the room in conservative business suits.

Each of them was absolutely gorgeous, and I began to think that it would be very difficult to work around here given how distracting it must be.

Then I found out

exactly

how distracting they were.

They each went to one of us, and knelt before us. Before I knew what the hell was going on, the girl in front of me began unbuckling my pants and unzipping my fly.

I nearly jumped out of my seat in panic, and looked over at Hiro and Mr. Sato. Each of them had a girl doing the exact same thing to them. Neither of them seemed the slightest bit disturbed by this behavior.

Is this normal? What do I do? Should I stop her? Holycrapholycrapholy...

The girl had taken my soft cock into her mouth and worked her magic on me. She wasn't just good, she was

damn

good. I was instantly hard, but at the same time I couldn't get over what was happening.

Mr. Sato simply kept his hands on the armrest and let his girl suck his cock. Hiro was checking his phone, and he looked like he was texting as his girl blew him.

I didn't know what to do or where to look. I felt as if I was invading a very private moment, but there was nothing private about any of this. I was in a room with the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and his interpreter, getting sucked off.

Mr. Sato simply looked like he was meditating. The girl kneeling in front of him had her back to me and I couldn't see anything she was doing, but I didn't want to watch. I wanted to look away, but the room was too small and there was nowhere else to look.

Instead, I watched my cock disappear into the mouth of this beautiful Asian girl, whose soft, pouty lips were caressing me in ways that I had never imagined (and I can imagine a lot!).

I heard Hiro begin to breathe a little heavier, and stiffen as he shot his load into his girl's mouth with a sharp grunt. She stayed there for a few moments more, letting him grow soft enough to tuck him away again. These women obviously knew what they were doing.

I watched as she put him back away, his cock still damp from her sucking, but nevertheless sated. She got up, bowed to him, and left the room. He went back to his texting.

I felt my girl start to fondle my balls, and nibble gently on the head, her tongue creating little suction points just beneath the crown. Self-conscious, I looked at Hiro to see if he was watching me but he had gone back to his phone and was paying no attention to me whatsoever. Apparently to him a break meant just that - a complete break from the moment we were in, even while remaining in the presence of others.

This girl, whose name I didn't know, began to massage me with her hands, her tongue, and her cheeks. I could feel her hot breath against my pelvis as she tried to finish me. She never once looked at me.

Despite her considerable talents, I simply couldn't get into the moment. I tend to like my women enthusiastic, and this girl was just doing a task, doing her job.

Mr. Sato suddenly grunted across from me. His orgasm was exactly like his persona. Strong, powerful, and completely restrained. He didn't open his eyes, but I could see just how hard he was shooting into his girl's mouth by her reaction. She looked as if she was struggling to take it all.

With two down and just me to go, the pressure was too much. I simply could not come at all knowing that I was the last one to finish, and that privacy was non-existent.

I leaned down and held the girl's shoulders, trying to urge her to her feet. For the first time, she looked at me, eyes wide in confusion. Apparently she was not expecting this at all. My cock was still in her mouth and as I pulled her up it fell out with a loud

pop

.

"Thank you," I said. "

Arigato, arigato...

"

She wasn't buying it, and I had breached some sort of protocol here. Even so, I persevered while realizing I needed to try to place the burden on me, saving face for her. She looked over at Hiro for guidance, but he wasn't providing any. He looked stunned as well.

Mr. Sato's girl was standing up when I heard his distinctive Japanese baritone bark something that did not sound pleasant. My girl looked completely confused, but whatever it was that Mr. Sato had said she was accepting it.

Inadvertently I had caused some chaos, and wanted desperately to make it right. "It's okay," I said. "It's okay."

Hiro and Mr. Sato exchanged several words in Japanese, and I felt completely lost. I was convinced that I had screwed up the deal. Maybe I should have just let the girl finish me off, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I knew that I would simply sit there, nervous, knowing that these two guys were waiting for me to finish, and it would never happen.

Finally, both girls bowed and left the room. Mr. Sato did not look happy.

"Hiro, I - " I began, but Mr. Sato stood up and I stopped talking. He said something to Hiro, who bowed in return. Turning to me, Mr. Sato bowed and looked at the floor just a moment too long, before standing ramrod upright, turned, and left the room.

I fumbled with my belt and zipper and tried to get Hiro to tell me what just happened.

It was no use. Hiro stood up, and bowed at me again. "Mr. Sato has terminated discussions for the day," Hiro said in a brusque monotone. "He wishes to resume tomorrow."

Ohcrapohcrapohcrap

I fucked this one up. I saw my career heading into the toilet, which is where I felt I would need to go too in order to get rid of the unsettled contents of my stomach. My nerves were shot.

Normally I might have tried to protest or argue, perhaps even tried to recommence the meeting. I would have done

something

to try to make it right. This time, though, it just wasn't possible. Something had happened, something

cultural

that I was not privy to, and I was just going to have to deal with the consequences.

Hiro took me to my hotel. On the way I began conjuring excuses for my manager for blowing the deal (or

not

blowing it, as the case may be). By the time I got to the hotel, though, I was no closer to understanding what had happened, let alone explaining it.

Still having no bags, checking in was a breeze. I was exhausted, and though I would probably have liked to explore Tokyo, I needed to get my sole set of clothing washed for the next day.

Room service and the bathrobe for tonight, apparently.

Somehow it actually sounded quite appealing to have something low-key. It might have been nice to explore the city, seeing as I'd never been there before, but I simply had to accept the fact that it wasn't going to happen this time around. After the high drama of the negotiations, I just didn't feel in the mood to have a night on the town anyway.

My room was palatial by Japanese standards. Tokyo is well known for its lack of space, and for me to have as much room in my hotel as I did was mind-boggling. A king-size bed, jacuzzi, and a separate working room with a desk awaited me. There was no way my cheap-ass company did this. This must have been the Japanese.

After handing off my laundry to the hotel staff, I sat down at the desk in my terry-cloth robe (provided for my convenience by the hotel, complete with instructions on how to order one of my very own). I started going through my work emails, and felt the familiar twinge of nerves as my manager's emails came across reminding me of just how strategic this account was.

Translation: Don't fuck this one up.

A knock on the door brought me out of my work mode. It was a bit early for the laundry to be ready, so I opened the door with some caution.

When I did, the three women from the conference room entered in without a word, as well as one other woman that I had never met before.

"Mr. Jenkins-san," the new woman said, bowing. "My name is Machiko Yoshuda. Mr. Sato deeply regrets providing you with an unsatisfactory selection this afternoon."

"Unsatis... what?" I asked, looking at the three women in my room. They stood side by side, waiting patiently.

"Mr. Sato wishes to ask for your forgiveness and another opportunity to show that he is a proper host."

"No, wait! I mean, yes, he is a very gracious host. I mean, he doesn't have to," I sputtered, completely shocked at what was beginning to dawn on me.

Machiko entered the room fully and stood over next to the other women. "I will ensure that you are not disappointed again."

"Machiko, wait," I said. "This isn't nec-"

She said something in Japanese and the three women crossed to me and pulled off my robe, revealing my naked body. I tried to grab the robe but before I knew it, it was already in Machiko's possession.

With six hands on me at once, I stood no chance. I was still aroused from earlier and hadn't had a chance to come yet. I may have been shocked and surprised by what was happening, but my cock didn't seem to care. It started to grow, rising between my legs.

Another short command from Machiko and one of the girls' mouths was instantly on me. The other two began taking off their clothes, revealing flawless, perfect skin. The girl blowing me had taken me completely down her throat, opening her mouth to take me in easily and without any effort.

Machiko stood and watched the girls seduce me, like a supervisor watches trainee employees. I felt one girl move around behind me, rubbing my shoulders down my back to my ass. I felt her arms snake around to the front of my chest as she pressed herself against me. Her nipples scraped across my back and I felt her trimmed bush press up against my tailbone.

She pushed against me, keeping my body secure for the powerful pressure the girl blowing me was using. The third girl came up beside me, turned my face, and started kissing me deeply.

I was in sensory overload. I stood there, my legs slightly spread, being attacked by three of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, and a fourth watching.

Unlike earlier, though, I

wanted

Machiko to watch. Suddenly I felt like I was putting on a show for her, wanted her to get turned on watching me.

She looked like she was all business, though. Another command, and the girl deep throating me looked up into my eyes. This was the same girl who had been sucking Hiro earlier, and she was very good. Having her lock eyes with me made it much, much more powerful.