Road Stories is set in the same neighborhood as "The Consultant" and "Neighbors", but the stories will be standalone so don't feel like you can't jump right in!
All sex-having people in the story are over 18 years old.
Sales is a tough business. You pour so much energy into every deal, and sometimes they just don't happen for reasons outside your control.
I'd been working this one new customer in Chicago for months, and we were finally about to wrap up negotiations for a three-year deal plus a lucrative implementation contract. What could go wrong?
The final meetings went well and everything was on schedule, until around 3:30pm when the CIO's executive assistant came into the meeting room to let us know that he had left after hearing that his daughter had been in an accident. He expected to be gone the rest of the week.
Of course I felt bad for the guy and conveyed my best wishes for his daughter's speedy recovery. But our fiscal quarter ended that Thursday and not being able to sign this deal was going to blow my bonus. I was not a happy camper.
I took an Uber from their offices in The Loop back up to the hotel on Michigan Avenue where I was staying. My flight out of O'Hare was not until 2pm the next afternoon, since I had planned on keeping the customer out late for dinner and drinks. I tried to get an earlier flight out, but the 6am flight they offered me sounded horrible and I was going to have to pay for the hotel anyway.
So I canceled the dinner reservations, took a nap, and then headed down to the lobby bar. It appeared to be one of the few weeks of the year when nothing much was going on at McCormick Place or any of the other convention centers in Chicago. The bar was pretty dead, which I decided was probably fine as I was in a lousy mood.
I had a pretty good burger at the bar, talking with the bored bartender enough to hopefully keep him from watering down my drinks. He was a nice enough guy but seemed to recognize that I wasn't interested in much small talk -- the sign of a great bartender.
When he looked past me and his jaw dropped, I couldn't help but turn around. She swept into the bar like she owned the joint, despite only being about five feet tall. Short leather skirt, leather bustier, topped with a floor length semi-sheer cardigan that would have dragged the ground if not for her four-inch heels.
I nodded to the bartender that her drinks were on me. She sat down a few stools away, but when he delivered her martini and nodded my way, she moved to the stool next to me.
"Thanks, cowboy!"
We chatted over our drinks for a few minutes, flirting but not too outrageously. She noticed me noticing her large wedding ring and put her hand on top of mine on the bar. "Don't worry, hubby is tied up this evening."
"So what's your name, cowboy?" she finally asked as we finished our drinks.
Being in Chicago and only a few blocks from the Art Institute of Chicago, I couldn't help myself. "Abe. Abe Froman."
She looked confused for a moment before it dawned on her. "So you're the Sausage King of Chicago! That's a tough title to live up to. My friends call me 'Shauna'. So, Abe, I've got a bottle of Scotch in my room that is almost old enough to legally drink itself. Would you like a little taste?"
"Okay, Jean, lead the way," I replied, getting a laugh and an elbow in my side.
She swiped her key, and I held the door open for her. When I turned around, she pulled my head down for a deep kiss. Then I looked past her and saw the naked guy tied up in a chair in the corner, ball gag firmly in place.
"Nope." I spun on my heel and headed for the door.
"C'mon, Abe! I told you he was tied up for the evening. He likes to watch, and he doesn't get untied until you leave." She shrugged her cardigan off and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. It was obvious even in the dim light that she was freshly waxed. "You're not going to leave me hanging, are you?"
It wasn't that I had never had sex with an audience. Alli and I had gone to some pretty crazy parties with some of the other grad students in our day, and we had no compunctions about getting busy with other people in the room. But this was clearly different.
Then my new friend reached behind her back and undid the clasps of her bustier and suddenly she was naked except for her heels, her perky little tits begging for action. "C'mon, cowboy. Don't you want to see if you can break me?"
