Be Careful What You Say

I, Brent Litton, at 29 was the youngest owner of a company (LT Industries LLC) in a very competitive industry. I implemented lots of new business techniques that I learned in Northwestern's Kellogg MBA program, which techniques shook up the industry. That's another way of saying that I was not well liked (an understatement) by my competitors.

One particular competitor, George Morton, the CEO of the former industry leader Rollo Inc., was particularly distressed by LT's success. He tried many techniques to give LT, and me personally, a bad reputation with the industry's customers including making up complete lies (as seems to be popular with many politicians and their supporters) saying that I was a Communist, child abuser, philanderer, and thief. None of the lies were working, however, when I went to a trade show in Chicago (Rollo's hometown) about the same time that LT came from a newbie in the industry to the industry leader with about 15% of total sales.

I wouldn't have gone to the trade show -- and may not have even sent one of my employees -- if only competitors were there. However, there were also suppliers, potential suppliers, customers, and potential customers so I really felt like I needed to be there, if only to dispel Morton's/Rollo's lies.

I made lots of good contacts the three days of the trade show, and even got a new significant customer who I took out to dinner the second night of the show. I debated going to a sponsored party the last night in Chicago, but since my office said that it had everything under control I decided "why not?" so I went.

I was basically enjoying myself participating in a number of interesting conversations and even learning some technical information from a few suppliers and executives and engineers in related but not competitive industries. In going to the bar to get another club soda (I don't drink since the few times that I did in college I didn't like myself when I had some drinks, even if I wasn't drunk) when I almost ran into a woman walking on an intersecting path. I apologized to her for almost running into her and then said "You have great taste in clothes -- is that a Donatella Versace dress?"

The woman looked at me a little strangely and then laughed "I didn't know that any men at this event even heard of her. Why would you ask that?"

"I'm embarrassed to tell you -- you'll think that I'm weird," I replied with a smile.

"I already think that you're weird," she shot back, also with a smile, "so you might as well tell me."

"Well...if you insist, but let's go over toward an open area and out of traffic -- I don't want my competitors to know any of my secrets," my smile even wider as I said that.

We walked over to an open area with a small elevated table (I think that it's called a "drink table") introducing ourselves along the way -- both first names only. Her name was Gina.

"OK, Gina, here's my big secret. Elizabeth Hurley is my celebrity crush and she often wears Donatella Versace outfits. Your dress looks like one that Elizabeth wore to some recent awards ceremony."

"Good," Gina laughed, "I thought that you were going to tell me that you were a gay dress designer yourself crashing this event just for yuks."

"Entirely hereto," I chuckled; I don't know why I said that. Well, to be honest I probably do know why I blurted that out without thinking. Gina was a good looking woman.

Gina looked to be about five years older than me, but since she was very trim she could be ten-fifteen years older and just in good shape. She wasn't beautiful, but very pleasant looking, and she had a manner about her that was -- I don't really want to say "sexy;" maybe a better word is "sultry," which to some people maybe even more desirable than sexy, but not as overt.

For the next twenty minutes Gina and I had maybe the most pleasant -- and subtly flirtatious -- conversation that I had had in at least ten years. Then something surprising; I saw George Morton walking toward us with a scowl on his face. When he got to us, without even acknowledging me, he lightly grabbed Gina's arm and gruffly said "There's someone I want you to meet, Gina," then started walking away expecting her to follow.

"OK George, hold your horses," she snapped. Then she turned to me and said "Nice talking to you Brent; apparently I'm needed elsewhere."

As Gina and George walked away I noticed several things:

One thing was that he was talking to her in what appeared to be a snarky tone and though I couldn't hear what he said I'm sure it was something like "Don't talk to that asshole, he's ruining my business." At the same time Gina did not appear to like his attitude and she had a scowl on her face when talking back to him.

A second thing was that Gina really rocked her dress well, including how it clung to her bubble butt.

The third thing was that she had really nice calves in her high heels, and what I could see of her thighs.

I mumbled "down boy" to my cock and then sought out a couple of other attendees that I knew.

About 45 minutes after Gina was dragged away from our conversation I saw her walking out from where the washrooms were. Things were really winding down and I was on my way out when I saw her. I have no idea why I next did what I did -- and I couldn't use too much alcohol as an excuse because I had had nothing but club soda.

I intercepted Gina and smiled as I said "I'm about to take off but I wanted to tell you something first."

"Oh, I'm glad to see you because I wanted to apologize about George's behavior; sometimes his social skills aren't up to par."

"Think nothing of it," I smiled. "I never come to Chicago and I'm sure that I'll never see you again. Because of that I want to leave you with this thought. You're plasma hot and if we ever met under different circumstances and you weren't married I'd pursue you until I fucked you comatose."

The look on her face was the epitome of shock; so much shock that it was humorous. While she was still unable to react I grabbed her left hand, kissed it while staring into her eyes. As I turned to depart I remarked "I know what I'll be dreaming about tonight!" I never looked back.

That night in bed in my hotel room I tried to figure out why I did what I did, and why I was attracted to Gina since I had dated women better looking than her -- but maybe not with her sultriness. I'm normally not that brazen, crass, stupid, or whatever you want to call it; what I said to Gina was tactless. Despite these thoughts I masturbated while looking at a photo of Gina on my phone that I had surreptitiously taken of her at the party. Despite my boorishness at least I was honest that I would be dreaming about fucking her that night.

***********

After about a week back at work I didn't think of Gina again, although I was perplexed as to why I never deleted her photo. My business was booming, having gotten a boost from my contacts made at the trade show.

About six months after the trade show winter was at its worst in my home city. It was so bad, and my employees had things humming along so well, that I decided to take a week trip to the warm weather in the Cayman Islands. I was disappointed that a woman who I had been dating for the last few months didn't come with me. She said that it was a really bad time for her -- maybe that was the truth, maybe she just wasn't into me; whatever the reason I just resolved to find some action in the Cayman Islands even though it wasn't known as a big hookup venue.

I was staying in the Westin on Seven Mile Beach Road on Grand Cayman and despite no sure companionship enjoyed myself the first night and second day that I was there. I mean, what's not to like about 81°F and bright sunshine when it's 9°F, six inches of snow, overcast skies, and 30 mph winds back home.

Instead of immediately renting a car I decided to join a tour for some of the sites before getting some serious beach time. Although I don't normally like to lay on the beach I do enjoy paddle boarding, kayaking, sailing, and swimming in the ocean (I guess technically the Caribbean in the Cayman Islands).

A group of Westin guests were waiting outside the Westin front entrance for a small tour bus to take us to the Cayman Turtle Centre when a woman with a big hat and sunglasses on bumped into me. "Hi Brent," she said in a sing-song voice.

At first I didn't recognize her; then she took off her sunglasses. Shit! It was Gina Morton.

I'm sure that I turned completely red. "Um...hi...uh...hi...Gina," I stuttered feeling like a total moron.

"Cat got your tongue Brent?" she chuckled. "If you will recall you didn't have any trouble with words the last time that I saw you."

"Uh...well...about that...uh," I started stammering when two women who looked quite a bit like Gina, but younger, walked up to us.

Without missing a beat Gina said "These are my sisters Sophia and Lucia; gals I want you to meet a very loquacious guy I met about six months ago, Brent Litton."

"Pleased to meet you," I said to both of them, hoping that my palm wasn't sweaty as I shook their hands."

"So you're obviously going to the Turtle Centre," Gina said staring into and through my eyes with her sunglasses still off. "Are you going to Hell after that? You certainly should go to Hell!"

Sophia and Lucia chuckled. "Uh...yes...I guess that this tour also goes to Hell," I replied. Hell is a region on Grand Cayman near the Turtle Centre on the Western-most part of the island.

"Maybe we can talk further about you appropriately going to Hell," Gina chuckled -- her meaning being a double entendre in view of what I said to her when we last parted.

The bus pulled up, Gina and her sisters, and two elderly couples got on the small bus before me, and then I boarded. Gina and her sisters were in the back either giggling or chuckling -- I couldn't tell which, but sure that I knew why.

The Cayman Turtle Centre is a very interesting place. The grounds are large, the number of turtles of all different sizes and types immense, and lots of other interesting attractions such as an aviary and a lepidopterarium.

I was chagrined that I was staring at Gina's ass and legs as she walked around the facility in shorts and a halter top. Several times I caught her eye (as best I could tell given that she had sunglasses on) and she gave me a wicked grin. I was totally embarrassed by what I had said to her when departing the trade show -- I really never did expect to see her again -- and thought that I should apologize.

At one point Gina started walking toward the aviary while her sisters walked toward a transparent underground shark aquarium wall; I thought that this was the perfect time to approach her. I quickly caught up with her just before the aviary and gently grabbed her left elbow.

"Say Gina," I smiled, trying to look as harmless as possible, "I really need to apologize to you."

Gina turned to me, removed her sunglasses, and with a lilt in her voice said "About what?"

I ushered her off the path to the aviary onto a large grass expanse near one of the man-made small lakes on the property and said "Well...uh...I was out of line in telling you that I'd like to fuck you comatose."

"You mean that you wouldn't like to fuck me comatose?" she snapped back, obviously enjoying my embarrassment.

"Uh...no...well..." I stammered before she interrupted me.

"Brent you mean that you lied when you said that I was plasma hot; do you really think me ugly?"

"Uh...no...well..." I stammered again becoming more embarrassed by the second. Again she interrupted.

"I'm not following you Brent. Maybe you should take me to dinner tonight, stop being tongue tied, and tell me exactly what you meant and what you're apologizing for. I hear that a restaurant called Peppers near the Marriott on Seven Mile Beach is really good. Why don't you make reservations there for 7 p. m. You don't mind treating Lucia and Sophia too do you? They can take a different taxi back while we have drinks at the Marriott," Gina said staring at me like a tiger might its prey.

"Holy shit was this woman evil," I said to myself -- fortunately I didn't blurt it out. "That's what you get for being an asshole at the trade show," was another thought that quickly followed the first. What I actually articulated was "Uh...sure; I'll call the concierge at the Westin right now and get her to make the reservations," I fake smiled.

"I'll meet you in the aviary," Gina grinned, put her sunglasses back on, and then moseyed over to see the myriad of caged birds.

Given my flushed face and chagrin I chastised myself "That should be a lesson to you to be careful what you say, asshole. Make sure that you don't fuck up again."

As I was talking to the concierge I still couldn't believe that I ran into Gina in the Cayman Islands -- the chances of that were less than winning the lottery.

The rest of the day at the Turtle Centre and the trip to Hell were relatively uneventful, except for Gina and her sisters chuckling numerous times that I belonged in Hell. I was very careful about what I said not only to Gina but to Lucia and Sophia too.

**********

The ride to and the dinner at Peppers was like a Fellini movie -- or maybe a horror movie. Lucia and Sophia were both smug little bitches, subtly implying that they knew what I had said to Gina. All three of them seemed to have as their main goal in life to pull my chain as often as possible -- and they were good at it. The only thing that made things bearable is that Lucia and Sophia were almost as sultry as Gina, and all three of them wore short skirts and halter tops (Grand Cayman is a casual place). Also the food and service were truly excellent.

True to her word Gina sent the sisters back to a party at the Westin in their own cab (which I paid for) while she and I walked from Peppers across the street to the Marriott, which had a nice bar, although with little privacy.

As she ordered a pina colada and me my normal club soda she smiled and said "You stood up to three women teasing you pretty well. After fifteen minutes most guys would have thrown a hundred dollar bill on the table, and slinked out."

"I deserved to be embarrassed so I took it like a man," I smiled.

"Well maybe I'll be embarrassing you more. First of all what caused you to tell me that I'm plasma hot; I'm fairly good looking, but not plasma hot," she grinned.

I sighed and then said "Being plasma hot is more than just looks. You have no apologies to make about how you look -- especially your great ass and thighs if I may be so bold -- but there's just something about you that makes you sultry. I can't put my finger on it, and maybe it's not there for others; maybe it's an X factor that is impossible to verbalize."

"That's very flattering for a forty year old to hear coming from a twenty nine year old -- or are you thirty yet?" she responded.

I was slightly taken aback. "Are you really forty, and how did you know I'm almost thirty?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Actually I'll be forty one next week; but isn't age just a number. I'm actually in better shape now than when I was twenty one. I love exercise -- of all types," she grinned.

My cock was getting hard; I tried to suppress it. "You turn thirty in two weeks, don't you?" she continued.

"A week after you turn forty one," I replied perplexed as to how she knew when my birthday was -- obviously she had done some investigation.

"Maybe we have something to celebrate together then," she smiled and then sipped the pina colada she had just been served.

After some innocuous conversation, including about Hell -- which really does live up to its name it is so fucking weird -- Gina got back to chewing her proverbial bone. "Getting back to the elephant in the room, Brent; if you tell me if you were serious about fucking me comatose I'll tell you an industrial secret."

I thought that I couldn't be more embarrassed, but I could feel my face and neck getting completely flushed. Gina just stared at me, sipping her drink, like this was the most normal conversation in the world. I finally gained my bearing and said "What are the consequences of an honest answer?"

"You'll have to give one to find out. Don't be a pussy if you want the possibility of getting some pussy," she laughed.

I sighed; I surmised that things couldn't likely get worse, and I was intrigued about what she said about an industrial secret. "Yes, at the time, and even more so now, I would love to fuck you comatose."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it," she replied with a completely diabolical grin.

"Uh...so...what's the industrial secret?" I inquired.

"George sent me down here with Lucia and Sophia to do a little industrial espionage. You have a mole in your company that told him that you'd be here and that you were considering opening up another plant somewhere in the Southern US. Although I didn't tell George your parting shot at the trade show he surmised that you were attracted to me and since Lucia and Sophia look and act a lot like me, and are younger, he thought maybe I could get you to bang one of them while they got you to reveal some secrets."

WOW; HOLY CRAP; I didn't expect that weird shit. I was speechless for a while so Gina continued. "Sophia has an open marriage, Lucia is single, and both are sluts. However, while that is George's plan it is not my plan and both my little sisters know not to interfere. They're getting a free holiday that they can't afford so they're happy to go along with their big sis."

"What's your plan, and why did you tell me that I have a mole and that George sent you here" I asked even though I was afraid to.

"I'm royally pissed at George not just for telling me at the trade show who I could associate with -- I hold grudges so keep that in mind -- and for pressuring me to get my sisters to fuck you for industrial espionage; that's why I told you what I did. As for my plan it is to see if you really can fuck me comatose; I'm intrigued by you and though I've never cheated on George before I like to give it a try" she chuckled.

With that she leaned into me, gave me a nice kiss on the lips, and said "Why don't you settle the bill and get us a cab while I freshen up. See you outside the front entrance."

***********

As Gina and I walked into my room at the Westin, both of us removing clothes as we did so, some thoughts flashed through my mind. I had vowed never to fuck a married woman; I had no business fucking a competitor's wife which would really hurt me with customers if it got out; my moral compass was being thrown off-kilter; and I would likely suffer a significant blow to my self-image if I went through with it.

None of those thoughts deterred me in the least, however. Gina looked even better naked than she did clothed. Also, she was naughty, vocal, animalistic, and adventurous, way beyond anything that I had previously experienced.

She let loose a trove of gross, inspiring, tirades encouraging me as I ate her pussy to two awesome orgasms. She quickly sucked my already rock hard cock before demanding that I abuse her pussy with it. She came so hard when I ejaculated into her that if the intensity of our fuck were an earthquake the entire hotel would have collapsed around us. I did fulfill my promise, however, when she went limp and comatose for about fifteen or twenty seconds after her orgasm peaked. When she gained awareness she mumbled "You fucking bastard," before sticking her tongue in my mouth.

After we took a quick shower together she sucked me hard again and then rode me reverse cowgirl, fondling my balls while she rode me and I stuck two fingers in her asshole at the right moment and she shuttered so violently that if I hadn't known better I would have thought that she was experiencing a health emergency.

***********

That first night, and the rest of the nights until I had to take a plane back to reality, were the sexual highlights of my life. I don't think that there was any legal sex act that we didn't try, and every one of my orgasms was the best in my life before I met the wild jungle cat known as Gina.