Sixth sense

I have no idea why I had to deal with this problem. Someone is trying to get rid of me, I guess. The Russian deal was on the verge of collapse. They’re such a hard-nosed gang, they drive you into desperation. No fun when your career is associated with a faltering deal. Something had to be done about it. Why me?

Meeting in a Russian-owned venue right here in Berlin. From the outside, it looks like a solid Prussian building, German all the way. Inside, it’s much more like a Russian brothel. Quite a surprise. Never thought we’d do this business in such a place. Not sure who actually owns or runs it.

We meet almost in a strange kind of symmetry. They have one lady in the delegation, she is the last in the hierarchy, kind of an assistant. We have one lady, me, and she is the boss. He ignores me right from the start. His face basically says, I don’t deal with ladies. He talks to our number two guy, I respond, he only gets it when our number two man repeats what I had said. We can continue like this forever, but this will get us nowhere. We both need to solve this issue, that’s for sure, but I’m getting desperate how to actually get there.

He proposes a break. Agreed. I tell my men not to even think of trying to negotiate anything informally. I’m the boss, I do the deal, period. You don’t even talk to them.

Charming young ladies take care of the men during the break. Amazing. Their guys take it for granted, my guys are kind of flabbergasted. I give them the go-ahead, do as you please, I need to do this without them. This can only be settled between him and me.

“You ordered all these ladies for the men. What about me? Don’t you have a charming guy for me?”

For the first time, his pokerface moves a bit. Silence.

“You want a man? Try me.”

“That’s the answer I hoped for. You selected a very good place.”

“You’re making fun of me. Ladies don’t like such places.”

“I do. It’s the best place to deal with men, really.”

“You’re making fun of me. Listen, young lady, this business is too serious for you. Tell your boss if he wants a deal, he has to come himself. Sending his secretary is no good.”

“I am the boss.”

“You’re not. Stop making fun of me.”

“You have to make this deal with me, or there will be no deal. I’m the only one you can deal with, and you will do the deal with me because you never met a lady like me. You will remember me forever.”

Laughing. “There’s many like you. Why do you want to be like a man, this is nothing for ladies.”

Laughing. “Come on, every tough man is looking for a woman matching him. You have found what you’re looking for. Let’s go somewhere with privacy. You know this place, what do you propose?”

The cracks in his pokerface are widening. He is a crook, but he is an interesting crook. I want to look behind the pokerface.

He agrees. Reluctantly, I am sensing. We end up in his suite.

Instantly, I’m playing the game. Taking off my shoes, putting my feet on the table.

“Touch my feet. Touch them. They need to be touched by a man.”

Silence.

“They are beautiful.”

“I know. Why don’t you touch them? Don’t hesitate.”

“You are a whore.”

“You are my client.”

Silence. He knows, now he is in the defensive. I am playing poker. Now it is me who has the pokerface.

I take off my nylons.

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“Now there is nothing between your hands and my feet anymore, except your shyness.”

“Look, I am not supposed to do this.”

“Neither am I. Who cares? Nobody is watching us right now.”

His eyes betray desperation. He truly does not know what to do now. I open my blouse, exposing an expensive, sheer bra.

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“Man, what’s on? Are you  a machine or a man?”

He seems to be panicking, he gets up and takes his phone, turning his back to me. Talking to someone in Russian, angrily and aggressively. He comes back, smiling at me, what a surprise. Pokerface smiling.

“I can’t believe this.”

His phone rings. Only a few words, he hangs up.

“You are a demon, a witch, a snake. You are poisonous.”

“Not at all. I’m just a woman with a sixth sense.”

He instantly understands. My sixth sense had told me, he is homosexual and defenseless against a woman like me. He nods, he smiles.

“Ok. We do what you propose. Allright.”

I smile.

“You are the first woman doing this with me. Honestly. Respect.”

“Thank you. I wanted to look behind your pokerface. You are more than a pokerface, man. Respect.”

We reconvene the teams, quickly conclude the deal.

I want to go to the bar with him, chat, get to know a little bit more about him. He flatly refuses. No way I can change his mind.

It was a dance on the volcano, I must admit. But it was exciting, thrilling, fascinating.

 

Über sunflower22a

I am a mystery.
Dieser Beitrag wurde unter Erotic stories abgelegt und mit , , verschlagwortet. Setze ein Lesezeichen auf den Permalink.

2 Antworten zu Sixth sense

  1. Provinzei schreibt:

    Was für ein „deal“ war das ?
    Coks ?
    2 Tonnen, ab Hamburg ?
    Oder Waffen ?
    Neueste russische Flugabwehrraketen ?
    Wir werden es nie erfahren.

  2. Janusz schreibt:

    Ein Kampf mit ungleichen Waffen.😉

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