Michaela had worn her sexiest and most expensive underwear for the meeting. She always did for big meetings; the bigger the meeting, the sexier the undies. Important meetings turned her on. Negotiating and getting her own way in business discussions excited her. They aroused her and could almost make her cum. Competing in a business meeting was like sexual foreplay to her, coming out top with a negotiation was like straddling a guy and fucking him and winning was like having an orgasm. She rarelt left an important meeting with dry panties!
Michaela was one of the most successful investment bankers in London and, in her book that meant the world. She was in the top two or three female UK bankers and was undoubtedly the top female M & A specialist, probably in the world.
At just thirty-six, she was now about to win the job she had set her heart when she left London University, some ten years ago. She was about to become, she was sure, the first female MD of the Global Mergers and Acquisitions Department of a serious investment bank. And Goddens, the US owned banking conglomerate, was the most serious of all serious investment banks; they were big, secure, American blue blood with a touch of UK aristocracy, which of course was bought. But the in their worls they could buy anything and anyone. They were aggressive, influential and stupendously successful. There was hardly a major takeover or merger that happened anywhere in the world where Big G, as Goddens was known, was not involved. And from now on Michaela would be responsible for all of that, for she was attending her final interview for the very top job in the world in that part of the bank's extensive activities.
As the panel of two American, one German and one English mature bankers, drawn from the main board interviewed her in New York, she was tingling all over. Her heavy, full breasts felt so warm and alive and her prominent nipples were pounding with sensations as their puckered hardness fought valiantly to make indentations in the smooth material of her designer suit. She was used to that, however, so now she bought suits with suitably thick material to prevent them showing. Nevertheless, she knew they would be stretching the gossamer thinness of the Janet Reger, black lace and silk bra. Just as she also knew that the gusset of the black, lacy boy-shorts would be damp if not soaked. Often she had to excuse herself in an important meeting to change her panties and she always had at least three pairs in her bag and case.
She knew they would be damp because she knew the meeting had gone great. Michaela could read people, especially men so well that often she knew what they were going to be thinking in two minutes time before they even knew what they were thinking now. She was like a chess player in thinking ahead and it was that, in the main, which made her such an effective and successful negotiator.
It always amused to look at her adversaries in meetings. They were mostly male, often, like today, much older than her and usually, she could tell, they fancied her like hell. Then that was hardly surprising. She was stunningly good looking, but not beautiful, she knew that. She considered herself to be dramatic looking rather than glamorous; she preferred that and worked on it. In keeping with her profession she had a rather hard look, a little like Madonna or Glen Close on a bad day. Her lips were probably a little thin and her nose slightly too pointed for her to be considered classically beautiful, but her big, perfectly oval, blue eyes made up for anything else that might be thought of as an impediment to her looks. Having had poor vision since she was a child and never having been able to get on well with contacts, Michaela wore glasses that she thought gave her a more studious look and yet another advantage when negotiating a deal. Her hair was naturally blonde with darker streaks and she wore it short as it was easier and quicker to wash and dry. Off duty she gelled it and made it a little spiky, which made her look younger, more casual and overall sexier, or so she hoped. But then she had little off duty time for she averaged twelve hours a day six and often seven days a week working or travelling. Her skin was pale with the pallor associated with her Danish race and all over it was as smooth as a baby's bottom.
Her body was rounded or, as she preferred it to be called, very womanly. She was under no illusions about the fact she was quite a big girl. Five feet eight inches tall and weighing in at just under one hundred and forty pounds she had C cup breasts that often swelled up to D, rotund hips and a slightly oversized, but nevertheless shapely bum. Never having born children her stomach was relatively flat, although when she relaxed there was a slight paunch that she put down to airline and hotel food. She avoided many of the bodily excesses of working too many hours, travelling and eating at the world's most expensive restaurants by regular very hard workouts in the gyms at her offices in London and New York and at her apartment block in London Docklands. Her weight never varied by more than a few pounds usually being spot on one hundred and thirty-nine pounds.
She had good legs and men that were arse men simply adored her for her bum was full and rounded with surprisingly full cheeks for one so slim; a real black girl's arse a lover had once complimented her as he plunged his tongue between her cheeks, something she enjoyed from a lover.
What amused her most of all in meetings, was that as her opponents and colleagues lusted after her, wondering what it would take to get inside Ms Michaela Henrison's knickers, she was most likely sitting there creaming them at the buzz of the negotiations, not the men.
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She realised that it was a little dangerous and that did concern a bit, although she was more concerned that someone might find out. A female, senior investment banker who paid for extreme was hardly someone a multi-national would want on their takeover team, but then that was part of the buzz. Buying sex was not so much physically dangerous, but could lead to blackmail, she figured. Nevertheless, Michaela had been buying it for several years now. Buying it wherever her travels took her, New York, Paris, Frankfurt, Japan, Beijing, Mumbai, Dubai and even where they did not take her, her home town, London. Buying it in many forms, buying it to be with men, with women and with both. Buying it to satisfy her fantasies, sex with several men, a gangbang, being fucked by a huge cock and having two guys simulate raping her. Buying it in place of letting sex, romance and love find her.
She did not have time to meet friends, to develop relationships other than for business, to meet people outside of her job with whom sex might come about and she fervently avoided any form of attachment to anyone inside her high finance world. She would do nothing to prejudice her naked ambition of making it right to the top in the banking industry.
So, since being introduced to upscale escort agencies and the like a few years ago, by a woman who at the time was her boss, Michaela had developed a network of contacts. Trusted contacts that could, for a price, usually an exceedingly high one, but when you are earning over a million a year sterling who cares, provide her with exactly what she fancied and when and where she fancied it.
The drive from Wall Street up to the Pierre, although in a chauffeur driven Cadillac, was tiresome. The traffic was terrible and even with the AC, the ninety plus outside temperature and high humidity got into the limo. The only redeeming feature was what she knew would be waiting for her at the hotel.
It was that what had got her through the drinks and chat after the interview. It was the expectancy of what would be waiting for her that helped her survive the unnecessary, but traditional, dinner with the head of investment banking, the HR Director and the non-exec director responsible for recruitment. It was the knowledge of what would be waiting in her suite that had enabled her resist going to the toilet after the interview and wanking herself off. And it was that which was stopping her sliding her hands up her stockinged legs and masturbating behind the smoked glass in the back of the limo.
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It came as no great surprise to Michaela when Roger Grevis the third, the CEO of the bank and Lord Ludlum, the Chairman, told her she had been successful, for she just knew she would be. Despite that, she had not arranged her real celebration of her promotion for tonight. That would come later. For tonight, she had called the agency from London.
"Hi it's Missus Mason" she had said to the receptionist, using her ID.
