A Very Drawn-Out Work Convention [F/M]

I originally wrote this for a friend of mine, but it’s been pretty well-received, so I decided to make it available in more places. It’s hosted [here](https://www.literotica.com/s/a-very-drawn-out-work-convention) on Literotica, and the following is the first of just over four pages as it’s organized there.

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“Mega Combo! You just saved 10,000,000 acres of Amazon rainforest!”

I smile, and move another block into place. Another couple rows eliminated.

“Score doubler! You just saved the Tasmanian tiger from extinction!”

I giggle and look up across the table. James smiles and gives me a thumbs up. I can feel my cheeks heating up.

At this moment, I am supposed to be listening to a presentation on the effects of the Super Bowl on regional energy usage. I am not listening. This is my fifth year at the EECC, first as student, now as a private industry representative, and I realized as early as early as the first that the convention functions much more as a platform for networking than it does as a way to raise awareness or discuss actual solutions to problems. That’s what I’m doing right now: networking.

Very broadly speaking.

I move a zig-zag shaped block, clearing out another row while I set up a combo. The game notifies me that I’ve just ended water shortages in California.

I look over at James, who’s fiddling with his hair as he checks his own phone. Is he updating the game as he goes? I honestly have no idea how this works, or if he can do that. I’ve been playing this game on and off since he sent it to me this morning, and I still haven’t seen even one of the messages twice. As I watch him, he looks up at me and smiles, and touches a finger to his lips, then flicks it towards me. I can’t tell if it’s a surreptitious way of blowing me a kiss, or just meaninglessly fiddling his fingers. Regardless, from the way a wave of heat runs through me as I see it, starting from my face and traveling in a flush down my body, part of me is definitely one hundred percent convinced that it’s meaningful.

I met James two months ago at the Environmental Action Conference. Different convention, same idea. He’s an industry representative like me, a programmer for a company that designs fuel cells. Our employers mainly treat these conventions as a venue to advertise and make useful connections with other figures in business and academia, so when a whole bunch of us got together for drinks afterwards, that was basically just a normal part of the job. We talked for a while, exchanged cards. Just ordinary business. The fact that I could not, for the life of me, remember anyone else who was there afterwards, was not so much ordinary business. We sent a few emails back and forth after that, but he lives in another state, and business-wise, there’s really no reason for me to be in touch with a programmer from a fuel cell company.

Purely for personal interest though, I’d asked him if he was going to be at the EECC. He was.

Yesterday, during the first day of the convention, I spent somewhat more time than was probably strictly called for attending the same events and presentations as James, sharing tables or nearby seats, sharing our thoughts on the subjects up for discussion, or in some cases poking fun at some particularly silly and pointless workshops. One of those was a workshop on phone apps which would promote energy efficiency or environmental protection, where the organizers didn’t pay even the slightest attention to realism, practicality, or the process of actually programming those apps. That evening, the two of us went out drinking together, this time without a whole crowd of convention-goers keeping us company, and he told me that he was absolutely going to program a phone game that would save the entire environment.

That night, several drinks later, I made out with James outside the bar, standing on tiptoe and winding my fingers into his hair, craning my head up to let his tongue take control of my mouth, his hands kneading into my ass through my skirt, almost lifting me into the air as he ground my body against him. If just a little more of my weight had left the ground, I might have thrown away all thoughts of anyone who might have been watching, given in to the alcohol and desire, and wrapped my legs around him right there on the street.

And then, he walked me the couple blocks to the hotel I’m staying at, where I promptly fell asleep, and woke up the next morning wishing I worked for some company, any company, which wouldn’t have booked us two employees to a room.

This morning, I received a text from James. I’d expected maybe some kind of clarification of his feelings, or possibly an apology for going too far, or not far enough. Instead, he told me he’d finished his environment-saving phone game, and sent me a download link. And then he told me he was looking forward to seeing me at the convention today.

“Incredible! You just saved every species of lemur!”

I clear several rows in a single swoop, and shoot James another look. I’m definitely not coming away with any useful knowledge on the energy costs of the Super Bowl.

He looks back at me, then down at his own phone for a few seconds, and mine buzzes with a text notification.

“You enjoying the game?”

I shoot a text back.

“V addictive. Am still trying to find out how much environment I can save.”

Another buzz. “I already told you. The whole thing.”

I have no idea how he actually put this together. Unless he was up all night writing it, I don’t see how he could possibly have written in every single score message. I think for a bit, then send a response.

“Can I bring back the mammoths?”

I look over to catch his expression, a wry smile, aimed at the phone, not at me, then I check the response a few seconds later.

“Hold on a bit.”

After a moment, another buzz.

“I’ve been writing an update.”

I wait a little longer to see if he’s about to follow that up, then start to compose a reply.

‘Is it a sexy update?’

That’s the first thing that comes to mind, but as autocomplete fails to offer up the word I’m looking for, I stall. Am I getting ahead of myself? He still hasn’t brought up what happened when we left the bar even once today. Maybe he’s just trying to backpedal and be friendly. I glance over at him, trying to pick up some cue, but this time he doesn’t look up and meet my gaze. I try to think up some kind of message to scope him out, before it strikes me that I’m looking for ways to flirt with a guy in the middle of an environmental convention filled with hundreds of people.

As I mull it over, my phone buzzes again. Another text.

“Finished it. Sending a link.”

I think fast, then settle lamely on my response. “Looking forward to it.”

He looks over at me again as he sends the link over. A playful smile. Maybe it’s just a look that means he’s proud of the joke he’s just pulled. Another tingling flush of warmth; my body is certain it’s not that type of look.

I download the update for the game and start it up again, completely putting aside any responsibilities I might have here as a representative of my employer to seem like an engaged participant. Mechanically, it looks the same as before, a simple block-clearing game. I start moving pieces into place.

“Three part combo! Beautiful!”

The first time I set up a block of rows to clear, I get that message. It’s the first time it hasn’t told me I’ve accomplished some major environmental goal. Maybe he decided to tone it back a bit? I move pieces into place for another combo.

“Score doubler! You’re so sexy!”

I stare at the message on the screen. Like all the other score messages, it vanishes after a couple seconds. I turn to look over at James. He’s watching me intently with that same playful smile.

Still struggling to put together a response, I clear another line.

“Sweet! Your lips taste so good!”

Well, it’s obvious he didn’t just forget about last night.

I look back up at him, then shoot a message over.

“So do I get prizes for this game?”

I start to compose a followup, ‘Or is it just compliments?’ But then I pause. I’m about to tell a guy in the middle of a convention, during work hours, that I don’t want to stop at just words. I sit there, indecisive in front of the screen, my heartbeat accelerating, warm, pulsing tension building in my core.

Another message pops up on my screen. “Yeah, there are prizes.”

A few seconds later, “Why not try for a high score?”

I look over at him again. A warm grin as he pushes his hair away from his eyes. Just as his hand passes in front of his face, I think I catch a wink.

Fuck, there’s no point using emojis when he can give me looks like that.

I send him a message back. “I think I will.”

I move a few more blocks. Another line eliminated. “Lovely!” I blush. At this point, I no longer assume it’s complimenting my pattern recognition skills.

James is looking down at his phone when I glance over at him again, but within a second, he looks back at me. I bury my face in my phone again, unable to meet his gaze for long, and, feeling the full weight of his attention on me, I set myself about trying to achieve a high score.

“Combo chain! You just earned a kiss!” Unlike all the messages before it, this one lingers on the screen as I wait. I hunch my body over around my phone, even more embarrassed about the possibility of someone else spotting my screen than when I was playing a game at an environmental conference which would pop up messages saying that I’d saved all baby seals forever.

“…with deep tongue!” As I move another block into place, another line pops up below the score message from before. I squirm slightly in my seat, glancing at the attendees in the seats on either side of me. The woman on my right looks over at me, sees me playing with my phone in the middle of the presentation, and I give her a look of embarrassment which I hope she just takes for bashfulness at being caught not paying attention. It’s not just nervousness which makes it hard for me to sit still. I’m painfully aware of the feeling of my own heartbeat, and I can feel the throbbing in my chest echo, a fraction of a second behind, between my legs. My black pencil skirt, plain and professional, suitable for a business conference, is imposing itself on my consciousness with its tightness around my hips, the pressure of the seat underneath me reminding me of the feeling of James’ hands when he kissed me last night.

“…with hair-pulling!” The line which appears as I make my next move sends a throb through my body, totally separate from my heartbeat. I don’t think I even realized until that moment that I’m into having my hair pulled. Now, I’m suddenly, keenly aware of the effect the idea has on me, just as I’m keenly aware of the warmth radiating from my core, of the lightest prickling touches against my skin, of how wet I am sitting among this crowd of people who’re listening to this lecture that passes through my ears completely unattended.

For a moment, I’m struck with a wave of self-consciousness. I’m supposed to be working here! I don’t mix my private life with my job responsibilities. I don’t flirt with coworkers. I’ve gotten turned on at work before, true, but only as a momentary distraction. I don’t let it keep me from getting work done. Not at the office, let alone when I’m surrounded by people like this. Compulsively, I minimize the game and put the phone down in my lap, forcing myself to attend to the presentation and make myself look engaged and professional.

The presentation continues to be about energy usage and the Super Bowl, utterly irrelevant to the throbbing, tingling feelings of my body, or to the presence of James across the table from me and whatever other messages he might have left in the phone game for me. I open it again.

“Congratulations! You fill out a skirt better than anyone!”

At a glance, I can see James is watching me, gauging my reactions. As I meet his eye, I run my hands down along my own hips. Can he see from his side of the table? I don’t know; at his height maybe it’s easier to see over it. Either way, it teases my growing need to be touched.

I continue moving blocks into place, struggling to focus my attention on the patterns, but eagerly chasing the reward of the words on the screen each time. I set up a perfect pattern, the bottom of the screen almost filled, just waiting for a single long block to complete it. As I receive the final necessary piece, I pause a moment before I move it into place, admiring the symbolism.

“Amazing! Super sexy combo! You unlocked the bonus stage!”

I stare at the message, but unlike some of the others, it only hangs around for a few seconds before disappearing from the screen. I assemble a few more blocks and eliminate a row. A compliment to my lips. I continue playing, and the messages continue to appear as before, but with no message of the bonus stage. I start to compose a text.

“Ah!” I jolt, my focus suddenly broken. The woman who was seated to my right is standing now, patting me on the shoulder. The rest of the attendees at our table are already pushing their chairs back into place, striking up conversations as they move on to the next presentation. The woman gives me a look, mild curiosity mixed with disapproval at my complete wastage of an attendee seat. I’m not sure I can blush any more than I was already doing, but I bite my lip sheepishly. I sit up from my chair, and head over for where James is now waiting in an empty space off by the wall.

“Hey, um…” I ask him the question I was about to pose by text a moment ago. “So, what’s the, um… the bonus stage?”

Part of me definitely wishes I could have put on a flirty, sultry voice when I asked that, but even without anyone close enough to overhear us, I don’t think I can pull that off in the middle of an in-use convention center. I’m still faintly mortified by my interaction with that woman just now.

Even so, James gives me a smile like he’s been missing me, and not literally sitting across a table from me for the last half hour.

“Room’s opened up over there.” He nods his head to the side, indicating a door off towards a corner of the presentation room.

I’m not sure I follow what he’s talking about, but hearing his actual voice after all those text messages we just exchanged immediately grabs hold of my focus.

“Oh, sweet, yeah, um…” I strike out wildly, looking for some less lame-sounding way to express my approval. There’s no way he didn’t mean something dirty by that.

Or is there? Fuck, I don’t know. I’m hopelessly wound up right now.

James moves around beside me, and puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the door. That’s not an ordinary thing to do in this situation, right? I don’t want anyone to notice anything out of the ordinary, but at the same time, I hope it’s not, because I can’t help investing worlds of significance into the feeling of his hand on my body. If the woman’s hand on my shoulder felt like pure shock, a sudden unexpected intrusion into my sharply narrowed focus, his hand on my back feels like a thrill which my focus has narrowed down purely to better appreciate.

“So,” we enter into a small conference room adjoining the room where we just attended the presentation. A single table surrounded by a few chairs. Otherwise empty. He nudges the door with his foot, letting it slowly sweep closed and click shut. “Did you win anything good at the game?”

“Yeah.” I pause for a moment, collecting my thoughts, intent on giving as good as I’m getting here, on not turning into a deer in the headlights.

“The entire monsoon forest biome. Lots of extinct species. A kiss.”

James grins. “And the bonus level.”

“And the bonus level, right.”

“But the kiss came first.” He steps in close to me, lightly grasping the elbows of my blazer, and I crane my face up towards his.

“Does everything happen in order then?”

“Not always. It depends on the loading speed.”

I’m already wearing heels, standing on tiptoe brings me barely an inch closer to his face, but I do so anyway, resting my hands against his chest. He puts his hand on the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair, then down along the nape of my neck, a light touch that sends warm shivers through me. He bends down and brings his lips to mine, gently at first. I open up my mouth, inviting his tongue inside, and the feeling as it tangles with mine plunges all the way down my body. He winds his fingers into my hair, pulling my head further back and holding me close, pressing my body to his chest. I can feel my nipples throbbing against the pressure of his body, and I let out a soft whine into his mouth.

After some amount of time which I completely lose track of, he pulls back again, gazing down at me as I rest my weight against him. I take a few deep breaths before I speak.

“So… how did you get the idea I like having my hair pulled?”

The corners of his mouth twitch.

“Oh, last night, when we kissed, I kind of…” He leans down towards me again, squeezing my body tighter against him this time. He pulls back on my hair more forcefully, leaning my face too far back to kiss him, and runs his tongue lightly down my neck. Still held up on tiptoe, my legs tremble, and the whine that escapes my lips this time isn’t nearly so soft.

He pulls back, releasing his grip and running his fingers gently through my hair again. “…Picked it up.” He finishes.

“…Uh huh.” My mind is almost completely wiped of the ability to articulate a clever response.

“So, you wanted to know what the bonus stage was, right?”

“Yeah.” I’m still leaning against him, but he pushes me away slightly, shifting my weight back onto my own feet, then guides me over to the other side of the room, across the conference table. I’m facing the door now, the sole entrance to the room. It looks heavy and solid. There are no windows, the room lit up by long bars of fluorescent lighting overhead. This looks like a room intended for small private conferences, ones which can’t easily be overheard from outside. James stands behind me, his arms wrapped around me, running his hands down underneath the top button of my blazer, then back up again, gently lifting up against the weight of my breasts.

“Guess.”

I place my hands over his forearms, stroking my fingers up and down them, taking in the feeling of their firmness, their strength, the size of his hands against my body. Part of me wants to move his hands myself, to push him ahead. My body is aching with anticipation, with the need to be touched. I’m already much more than ready to go further. His gentle touch, tracing patterns along my belly, up the undersides of my breasts, in curves around my nipples, feels incredible and almost agonizing. He could drop his hand down underneath my skirt right now, and it wouldn’t be a moment too soon. Letting him control the pace, placing myself completely in his hands, is a thrill all of its own, but there’s one more reason urging me to push him ahead.

I am not an exhibitionist. I don’t think I am, anyway. Even with everything else occupying my attention, the sight of the door across from us gives me a faint sense of unease. As far as I know, there’s no reason for anyone else to come into this room now. No events scheduled here, no subcommittees or special meeting groups needing to use a small conference room. On the other hand, there’s no real reason for anyone *not* to come in either. Someone might check the door just to see where it goes. The longer we stay in here, the greater the chance we’ll be caught.

“Nhh!” I let out a sharp gasp as James moves on to my nipples, the kneading of his hands turning into a firm tweak of both at once. On the other hand, as much as I’m afraid to get caught, there’s no way I could bring myself to ask him to stop now. I squirm, shifting back against him, my body only half under my own control. Through his suit pants, I can feel the hardness of his cock pressing up against me now, not along my butt, he’s too much taller than I am, but around the small of my back. I rub myself back against him, expressing my desire the best I can, even though realistically it can only do so much for him to have me rub my ass against his upper thighs.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/g79jvp/a_very_drawnout_work_convention_fm