It’s been 3 hours since I left Carmen at JFK. I’ve been in back-to-back meetings at the office since arriving here in lower Manhattan. My lack of sleep on the flight is starting to wear on me. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes above half staff, even with cup after cup of coffee.
*Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.*
My phone vibrated on the conference table under my left hand and my eyes popped open. I glanced at it and saw 2 incoming messages from the Brooklyn area code. Carmen.
“We’ve been at this for three hours, folks. Is it time for a bio break?” Mike, our CFO, said. “Lunch should be here, so let’s use the facilities, grab lunch and get back in here to continue.”
As I left the boardroom, I pressed my thumb to unlock my phone. There was a red circle with a 2 over the messages app, so I tapped it.
*Message 1 of 2*
>**From: Miss C** *Made it home. Shannon and I took a run in Central Park. We’re grabbing lunch at a food cart.*
At the end of the message was a selfie of the two of them in their tight black running pants with day-glo pink and turquoise accents, cropped running tops, bare midriffs and arms glistening with perspiration.
*Message 2 of 2*
>**From: Miss C** *Let me know if you got this. Thanks for a nice flight. -C*
*Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.* Before I could close the app, another message arrived.
>**From: Miss C** *Try not to think of the shower. ;-) Have a great day. :**
I thought I should at least acknowledge her, so before I closed the app, I replied,
>**From: E** *Thanks for the message. Glad you’re all right. Meetings all day. TTYL.*
I slid the phone into my pocket. After hitting the head, I grabbed my special salad —almost a Caesar Salad: chopped hearts of romaine lettuce and anchovies, combined with almost a Greek salad: sliced beets, red onion, peppers, kalamata olives, but with bleu cheese instead of feta and vinegar and oil dressing— and another coffee then returned to the conference room.
In my pocket, I felt it again, *bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.* I can’t afford to get caught in a game of text tag today. I’m sure it is Carmen again. I’ll wait until the next break to check messages.
Everyone on the senior staff has a favorite seat at the conference table, which we resumed. Our firm is efficient. In less than 15 minutes everyone was at the table, eating lunch and chit-chatting as we awaited the continuation of the monthly meeting.
Mike introduced Alden, our head of global operations, to present the business of an emerging key account. The next 2 hours was a barrage of charts and maps with a slick soundtrack and engaging British-accent voice over explaining their business and strategic expansion into Europe. At the end of the pitch, Mike stood up again, “You have to love seeing our clients grow. Take 15 then get back in here to hear our exciting plans.”
I left my cup and saucer at the coffee station then retrieved my phone to check my messages. As I suspected, there was an unread message from Carmen.
>**From: Miss C** *Shannon and I are planning drinks in the hot tub on my building’s roof after dark. Welcome to join us.*
I replied.
>**From: E** *Sounds like fun. Send the time and address. I don’t know when we will end here. I’ll let you know for sure in a couple of hours.*
I went to the men’s room and got in line to use the urinal. My mind wandered to the possibilities in a hot tub with Carmen and her friend. As I stepped between the dividers, I was glad for the small measure of privacy they provide. It seems the blood was rushing to both heads in my brief daydream. It took a little extra effort to free my semi-engorged cock and relieve myself of all the extra coffee.
After the break, Alden took the podium and presented slides of the financial results for our operating regions. North America growth has leveled off. Asia and Pacific rim was tanking. Europe, where I am based is growing at a steady pace. Then, he superimposed a projection of our growth forecast aligned to our client’s expansion plans.
“As you can see, their expansion doubles Europe for us and returns our top-line growth globally to 15 percent. This is huge. We need a big bat to win this one and we have just the man for the job. Eugene, come on up.”
The room erupted in applause. I felt my face flush as I rose and joined Alden at the head of the table. A little hint would have been nice, I thought to myself.
“We’ll take a break in a few minutes.” He continued, “before we do, let me give you some of the reasons we chose Eugene for this new role. After he finished top of his MBA class at Wharton, he did a 2-year executive internship with McKinsey, where he started and grew a new division. One of our mutual clients introduced us and I snatched him away to open our Paris operation. *Blah, blah, blah* hand-picked team *blah, blah, blah* double-digit growth *Blah, blah, blah* superior ratings.”
“So that brings us up to date. Let’s take that break now. General staff, you are dismissed.” After they filed out, he addressed the remaining senior staff, “freshen up, grab your tuxes and join our client’s principals for a wine and *hors d’oeuvres* reception on the balcony in 30 minutes.”
I shook Alden’s hand and thanked him for his kind words then excused myself to go change.
The amenities in our executive suite are unmatched: full gym and spa with weekly visits from professional trainers and masseuses, personalized valet, including barbers and tailoring. Each of the senior staff gets fitted for formal wear, which is kept pristine in our personalized lockers.
I felt the light buzzing in my pocket as I reached my locker. That must be Carmen with directions to her place. *Message 1 of 2*
>**From: Miss C** *Be here at 7.*
She included a link to a map at the end of the message.
*Message 2 of 2*
>**From: Miss C** *FYEO. Here’s some encouragement: -C*
FYEO? For my eyes only? I am alone in the locker room, so why not? I touched the prompt. A *tumblr* page opened to another selfie. This one taken from above, sort of. The middle of the frame was dark. The shape was like a diamond, but somewhat curved. The diamond was formed by two pair of round breasts touching at the nipples.
I heard the outer door to the locker room open then voices and footsteps as my colleagues arrived. I hit the back button to close the photo and return to messages. I dashed off a quick reply,
>**From: E** *Thanks. If I make it, it will be later. Mandatory client ‘meet and greet’.*
Just as I hit send, James and Bobby rounded the corner to our row of lockers. They slapped my back and congratulated me. We joked and sparred as we got dressed for the reception.
I could smell the prime rib on the carving station and hear the clanking of plates and glasses as I entered the wide hall separating the executive offices from the penthouse balcony overlooking the southern tip of the island. The catering staff was setting up hot buffet, wine and bar. I recognized the labels of the finest appellations from Bordeaux uncorked and breathing at the bar. This must be the biggest whale we have seen in years. We are sparing no expense on this introduction.
Bobby and James made a beeline for the bar as they saw Alden and Mike heading my way. Mike said, “You’re ready for this Eugene; this is why you’re here. Shall we meet your counterpart?”
“Sure. Anything I should know before we meet?”
Alden chuckled and winked and Mike said, “Nah. Well, just that you will be well-matched with a top-of-class go-getter, so be ready for anything.”
Alden pushed open the door and gestured for me to lead the way onto the balcony. Halfway between the door and the hedge border was a tall bistro table with a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. Surrounding the ice bucket were six crystal flutes, one with fresh raspberries in the bottom.
Mike turned the green bottle in the ice a few times to make sure it was thoroughly chilled before starting to work the wire cage holding the cork. Alden said, “You two pour while I try to find our guests,” as he rushed off to the west side of the balcony that surrounded the penthouse.
Barely a minute passed when I heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel and Alden announcing, “Found them!” His hand was at the left elbow of a slim, barely graying gentleman. At about 6 feet tall he carried himself taller. His back was perfectly straight. He wore a close-fitting, maroon cashmere sweater, charcoal-colored wool trousers and a herringbone jacket. I am guessing he is the CEO, he looks to be 55 to 60 years old and at the peak of fitness.
Emerging on the other flank was a 40ish gentleman with a flattop haircut and broad shoulders. Not so tall, but obviously well-muscled. He wore a navy blue suit: European-cut jacket with narrow lapels. His blue, pinstripe shirt with white collar and narrow tie with navy and crimson stripes also betrays European tailoring. I recognize him from the presentation as the head of their Europe operation.
When I finally glimpsed their final member, my breath caught in my throat. She was stunning: easily 5 foot 10, she had the complexion of a china doll and her face was framed by jet black hair but for a widow’s peak, smoothed back and gathered into a ponytail. Her smartly creased black slacks were tight up top and flared out over her shoes. All her accents were red—bright red stilettos, a sheer red silk blouse with a cowled collar that fluttered in the breeze, supple red lips. She held a short, black jacket in her left hand.
Mike finished pouring champagne into the six flutes and handed two of them to me. He took two and Alden took the remaining two from the table. I knew the custom, each of us held our own glass and the one of our counterpart. I knew the older gentleman would pair with Alden. As I was just about to puzzle out whose glass I held, the stunning young woman broke from the group.
She rushed to my side and slid her left hand in at my right bicep. Meanwhile, she reached for the glass in my right hand and whispered in my right ear, “Merci, Eugene, mon cher! I am Sabine.” I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I blushed. I looked at my hand and noticed her taking the glass with the raspberries and champagne. I turned my head and looked into her eyes. They are the color of fine dark chocolate, filled with intrigue.
She spoke again, “May I introduce my superiors?” She gestured to our right, “Herr Dieter Kohl, head of European Operations, also my boss. He is based in Berlin.” Dieter clicked his heels, bowed slightly at his waist then smiled as he offered his hand.
“Pleased to meet you. We have high expectations for our partnership,” he said in perfect, uninflected English.
Sabine continued, “This is our CEO, John E. Jameson, III. He inherited control of the firm when our founder, his grandfather, unexpectedly passed last year. He is the architect of our global expansion.” Her admiration for him was evident as her smile beamed broadly throughout her introduction.
Jameson wrapped his long right arm around my shoulder and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Sabine exaggerates a bit. I’m Jack. Gramps sent me to the London School of Economics precisely for this. It was always *his* vision.” He raised his voice and his glass, “To a great partnership and great success!”
We all clinked our glasses and variously said, “Cheers, *À votre santé*, *Prost*,” and sipped to our new endeavor.
“Now,” said Jack, “let me tell you about the bright talent who will lead the project from our side. This,” he waved to his right, “is Mademoiselle Sabine Lavoie.
“Sabine has many talents and passions. She loves classical music. She is a world-class concert pianist. She studied at the Paris Conservatory on a scholarship. She speaks seven languages: let me see if I can get them all. English, German, Spanish, Italian, French, Russian, and some other eastern European one…”
“Hungarian, Jack. And I’m making progress in Czech,” Sabine finished for him.
“Thanks. I am lucky I can keep from getting sideways glances from French waiters,” Jack chuckled. “Let me conclude her CV with this, she is not just a woman of arts and letters, she’s also got technical chops: licensed professional engineer and all-but-dissertation in physics.”
“Oh Jack, stop. Eugene, I am just Sabine,” she protested.
Jack took the last word with, “If that weren’t enough, she could also make a fortune on the runways of Milan and New York. Good luck, my boy. You’ll have your hands full.”
The ambient noise on the balcony increased as we were joined by dozens of senior staff from both firms. Servers began circulating with trays of drink and food. Some carried wine glasses and various bottles of French reds. Others had finger food, such as prime rib sliders, little quiches, and shrimp cocktail.
Three servers gathered around our table. One quickly removed the ice bucket and empty champagne flutes, replacing them with two bottles of Bordeaux and fresh glasses. The second placed a stack of small plates and bowls of sauces, dressings and condiments and a an assortment of cutlery. The third laid a basket with fresh baguettes and a tray of meats —including the warm, freshly sliced prime rib— cheeses, and cut veggies.
Sabine said to me, “I am famished, aren’t you?” as she leaned into me to reach one of the small plates.
She was so close I could feel the heat of her body even through my dinner jacket. Her right breast brushed my arm and the light friction released perfume from her blouse. It was floral, but more complex than any single flower I could name. Whatever it was, the smell triggered a response that, thankfully, no one could see under the table in the gathering dusk.
Alden had poured the red wine, emptying the first bottle and making a significant dent in the second, while Jack, Mike and Dieter began loading their plates
Sabine tore off two chunks of bread and opened them onto a small plate, then looked at me, asking, “Horseradish? Mustard? Mayo?”
“With prime rib? Always horseradish for me,” I said with a smile.
“I concur,” she said as she took a fork and spread a generous amount on each piece. Then she piled a heap of the warm beef and closed them. Like a perfect hostess, she offered the plate. I took one and she took the other.
Fifteen minutes later, as the street lights began to flicker on below, we had finished the wine and all but the last stick of celery. As everyone else adjourned inside, Sabine handed me her jacket, “*S’il vous plaît?*”
“*Avec plaisir,*” I said as I guided it up her arms. I could see goose pimples through the sheer red fabric. I also took note of her choice to embrace the trend of forgoing lingerie. Her pert breasts’ chestnut-colored nipples were erect and evident, even in the sparse light of the balcony.
“*Merci.* Oh how beautiful,” she said as she tugged at my arm to take me to the southwest corner of the balcony. She had just looked up and seen a spray of red, orange, and purple rays spreading from a point behind the Jersey City skyline up into the blackening sky.
We were now alone on the balcony. She had a firm hold on my right arm, whether for warmth or some other reason, she had full control of our movement. She took a half step back, rotating me right, then forward taking us clockwise around the balcony. As we started up the west side overlooking the Hudson, she said, “Tell me about the sites here; point out the famous landmarks.”
I narrated as we strolled, pointing out the neighborhoods near and far: Greenwich Village, SOHO, Flatirons. We stopped on northeast corner where she admired view of the illuminated Empire State Building in the foreground and further off on the East side, the *art deco-*inspired Chrysler building.
“They were so tall in their day, weren’t they?” she said.
“Yes, and they are still among the 20 or 30 tallest man-made structures in the world,” I replied.
“We should be hearing soon,” she said as she turned me toward her. She unbuttoned my jacket reached her arms around my waist for warmth. “I hope you don’t mind sharing your heat with me.” She looked into my eyes for any resistance. Getting none, she leaned in and said, “*Bon*. Our bosses are finalizing the details. The last thing to settle is how we can work closely. I proposed we should let go our temporary quarters in Paris and take the floors below your offices. My suite shall adjoin yours. So you see, sharing heat here is just practice,” she giggled, girlishly.
“Yes. That should be efficient,” I replied.
*Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.* We both felt it in my breast pocket, but Sabine had the advantage since her hands were already inside my jacket. She grabbed my phone, which was lit and still buzzing as more messages arrived. Even locked, we could see who sent the text and part of the message. She watched as my phone buzzed and buzzed.
>**From: Mike** *Congratulations!*
**From: Alden** *You and Sabine leave Saturday.*
**From: Bobby** *Just heard. Is that her with you? You lucky dog.*
**From: Carmen** *Are you coming?*
“*Bon*! It’s a deal. I am so happy,” she said impulsively hugging me. Then, leaning back, she said, “Oh, is Carmen your wife?”
“No, I’m not married.”
“Your assistant back in Paris, to congratulate you and know of our, rather, your, return, *peut-être*?”
“No. She is a girl from here. I met her yesterday on my flight from Paris. She invited me over for drinks after work.”
“Well then, she won’t be jealous of me,” Sabine said. “Go, have drinks. Say goodbye. Beginning Saturday, we are partners and you won’t have time for dalliances,” She hugged me fiercely for a long minute, then kissed me on both cheeks as she broke the embrace.
After she pulled her hands out of my dinner jacket, she joined the two sides, buttoned me and adjusted my bow tie. When she was satisfied, she grabbed the lapels and pulled me in for a full-on, long kiss on the lips. “Mmm. *Très souple,* we shall get along fine, Eugene,” she concluded. “Please, let’s finish the tour and go inside now.”
We picked up the pace, since the views to the east are not as interesting. Two minutes later we reentered the penthouse to see our bosses finishing their brandies. With handshakes all around, the night and deal were done.
Seeing us enter, Alden said, “I knew you two would hit it off. Listen, you will have a lot to do when you get to Paris, so we are reducing your return trips for the foreseeable future, so take off the next couple days to catch up with family or whatever. You fly out Saturday.”
Mike and the staff valet were helping Jack and Sabine with their overcoats as the whir of the express elevator indicated the limos were here.
The six of us rode past the 30 floors to the subbasement garage. The white-gloved drivers opened the back doors of their respective cars as the elevator opened. We all shook hands and Sabine gave a strong hug to Mike and Alden. The senior executives would be taking the larger car going on to our CEO’s private club. Sabine slid into the smaller car and beckoned me to join her.
I got in and the driver closed the door. As he walked behind the car to take his seat, Sabine slipped her hand in at my upper arm and snuggled against my shoulder, “I am so happy to have this opportunity. We are going to be very close.”
*–Stay tuned for more*
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/axzryi/eugenes_distraction_part_7_of_the_carmen