The reception was quite grand. Sumptuously catered in very stylish surroundings. We were in the penthouse suite of one of Toronto's finest hotels. The occasion was a prelude to a conference the next day. We were seeking financial backing and investment for our company. This would equip us to explode into a glittering future. We had the right product, a smart leadership team and an invigorated workforce. Our CEO, Denis Gerhardt, was making a presentation in the morning to the money men. The most important of these were here at this evening's pre-presentation soiree. Denis and his wife Giselle were hosting the event. Some of our key financial and technical staff were also in attendance. Our job was to schmooze the potential investors and gain their confidence and good will.
My name is Dan Bellamy. I'm in charge of our main research team. My function at the soiree was to sound out and bond with the techies who represented the financiers. I needed to give them confidence in our product that they would pass on to their money masters.
Our hosts for the evening were Denis Gerhardt and his wife, Giselle. At six feet two inches, Denis is a tall man. He is not slim but does keep himself in shape by playing lots of tennis and squash. He keeps his reddish fair hair short. He is not yet bald but heading that way. Though only in his late thirties, he already has touches of gray around the temples. As the founder of our business, he is technically gifted and creative. With his outgoing personality and positive attitude, he is a natural salesman. I hear from our finance people that he is ineffective with money, budgets and administrative tasks. Still, he has the dream and motivation to make us successful.
Giselle is petite. She stands 5 feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. She is a charming olive-eyed brunette. Her thick hair cascades naturally across her neck and shoulders in lazy curls. Giselle's eyes are strong and perceptive. She has a dainty but shapely body and an engaging full-lipped face. Her breasts are compact, but her body is firm, with slender hips. At 34 she could pass for much younger.
Although Denis is the creative technical genius, Giselle is the background brain behind the success of the company. She has a lot to say about running the business. Her strong personality and intelligence counters the stereotypical "little-woman." I often sit at the back of the room during board meetings as a technical adviser. The other board members always showed respect to this elegant dynamo.
The Gerhardts were dressed appropriately for the evening. This evening Denis was wearing a conservative dark business suit with a crisp white dress shirt and a red power tie.
Giselle wore a chic, but modest cocktail dress made of sapphire silk with spaghetti shoulder straps. It flowed over her body like a lamina of color adjusting nicely to the demands of her curves. The front was high enough to cover most of her cleavage and went to just below the knee. It embraced her small breasts and clung to her legs and tummy. A small slit unveiled a glimpse of her graceful leg.
Denis and Giselle worked the room well making sure all the potential investors got a share of their time. The support staff - accountants and engineers - mostly talked with their counterparts on the investment side. A team of hired caterers tended an open bar and continuously distributed hors d'oeuvres and appetizers among our guests. The evening went very smoothly. Everyone on our team did their job well. We ushered the stragglers out at the end of the evening. There was a feeling that we had achieved our goal and looked forward to tomorrow with confidence.
I was one of the last to leave. There was no cleaning up to do. That would be taken care of by the hotel staff in the morning. Denis thanked me for my participation. He hugged me, which was totally atypical of him. I guess he had indulged himself and was feeling content with the evening. He wished me a very good night as he went to refill his glass.
My room was one floor down below, so I just skipped down the stairwell rather than take the elevator. I got ready for bed and switched on the television. There was a hospitality bar, but I did not want another drink. I could have reloaded my glass before leaving the reception. Now, I wanted to be fresh and ready for tomorrow's conference and its challenges. It must have been about two o'clock in the morning when my phone rang.
"Daniel, this is Mrs. Gerhardt. I wonder if you could come back up to the penthouse suite. I need your help."
"Of course, Mrs. Gerhardt." I responded. "I'll be right there."
I usually sleep naked, so I pulled on some running shorts and a tee-shirt. I ran up the stairs. Giselle was waiting at the door and ushered me in.
"He's in the bathroom, On the floor!" she seemed to be in a panic. "Can you help him?" She led me over to Denis.
He was sat on the floor beside the toilet bowl, with his back against the glass door of the walk-in shower. His hair was in disarray, and his mouth gaped open. There was some drivel splattered down the top of his dress shirt. I noticed that an empty vodka bottle had rolled across the room.
As I knelt beside him, calling his name, I caught the stench of alcohol. It was comforting that Denis was not in need of urgent medical care. His condition was merely due to drunkenness. I attempted to revive him by shaking him and calling his name. He was totally out of it. He would feel dreadful in the morning. Not just the terrible hangover to worry about. How would he manage the critical presentation?
"Denis, I need to make you chuck up, so no more booze gets into your bloodstream, OK?"
I got no perception he even knew what I was talking about.
"You're going to suffer like hell no matter what. This will prevent you from feeling nasty in the morning."
I took his hand and held it to his face.
"Stick your fingers down your throat. It'll make you retch." I leaned to the side, holding his head down
"Come on, you can do it," I pressed him.
I tried to urge him to his feet without success. So I wrestled to get his body upright. His arms wrapped around my shoulders. This helped me finally manipulated him into a kneeling position before the toilet with his hands on either side of the bowl. He grouched and whined. I grabbed his hand and thrust it a little deeper down his throat. He tried to remove his hand, but I replaced it into his mouth. Eventually, he began to vomit. We stayed like that for many minutes while he spewed up his booze and food. He ended by bringing up some bile and drool, while I held his hair and rubbed his back. I had to control myself from throwing up. Finally, he lifted his head out of the bowl collapsed into my arms with his head over my shoulder. It was then I was aware of warm, wet sensation in my lap. I looked down between us. A dark stain was spreading over Denis' pants.
"Oh, No!" I howled. In his drunken state, Denis was pissing himself. There was urine all over my shorts and tee-shirt. I struggled to sit him back against the sliding door of the shower. I peeled off my wet clothes. Now naked, I tried to figure out how to get Denis out of his filthy clothes and into the shower. Vomit stained his white dress shirt and his suit pants.
With much effort, I managed to take off his shirt and pants. I got in the shower and set the tap water to a lukewarm temperature. Then I switched on the shower. I tore off the rest of his clothes. It was obvious that I needed to be in the shower with him. I had to hold him up and try to clean him up at the same time. I heaved Denis into the shower and balanced him into a standing position against the side wall. It was like manhandling a lifeless blob. I held him with one hand and clutched the soap with the other. However, I simply could not hold him upright and wash him up at the same time. Giselle sat on the closed toilet seat watching my efforts. It was obvious that I was losing the battle.
"I can't hold him up and wash him at the same time." I shouted over the noise of the shower. Giselle came and opened the sliding door of the shower and reached in to try holding Denis up. She had no leverage to keep him in place and the expensive cocktail dress was getting sprayed by the shower.
"Just a minute!" she said. She moved back and unzipped her dress. She pulled the shoulder straps down and kind of wiggled her way out of it. She walked over to hang it on the back of the bathroom door. As she returned, I gaped at her.
The walnut and ivory lace demi-bra cupped her petite breasts high. Almost translucent, it contrasted with the pale skin above the cups. Her dark nipples peeked through the fabric.
The matching high-cut panties scarcely veiled her mound. I would never have imagined her wearing such sexy underwear. She looked like a playboy bunny. She blinked at me, knowing exactly where I had focused my eyes.
"Don't be a pervert, Daniel." She scolded. "I bought this outfit from a specialty boutique. My plan was to give Denis an extra treat this evening to keep his mind off the presentation."
In a wave of immodest rapture, this heavenly sight triggered the onset of a hard-on. Feeling a little guilty, I forced my gaze up to meet hers and muttered something in return. I turned my head and refocused on my mission.
She stepped into the shower. Now I got a good hold of Denis and held him upright against the wall. Giselle got to work scrubbing him down with soap. I was trying hard not to stare at her undies. It was then that I noticed Giselle's underwear growing transparent before my eyes. I could not believe it! The water had an immediate effect upon the fabric. It became even more revealing as the shower water soaked her. Her pert exposed nipples poked out through the material of her bra. The darkness of her large areolae was clearly visible. I could make out the shape of those perfectly formed breasts. The shadow of her well-trimmed pubic hair emerged through her sheer panties as a camel toe became clearly visible.
It was like she had nothing on at all. Immediately, my semi-erection caused by Giselle shedding her dress suddenly became as stiff as a rod pointing skyward.
