The EMT Ch. 18

OK! I am back, and so is Suzanne. Sorry it has taken so long. No excuse, other than busy with other things. I hope this has been worth the wait for those of you that have kept the faith.

*****

It was less than 24 hours later (sorry dear reader, I know it has been somewhat longer for you!), and Suzanne was on another continent, alone in her comfortable hotel room in the Jumeirah Emirates Tower, her head still spinning from the events of the last few hours. She had barely gotten used to the awareness of her contractual transgression and concern over its possible repercussions when Ian had broken the news to her of her imminent business trip.

When she had arrived home with Emma and found Ian unexpectedly at home and packing a bag, her first thought had been that he had been called away on an urgent business trip. When she had seen that he was packing some of her things, her confusion had risen. And then her confusion had changed to concern when her husband had mysteriously refused to answer her questions until Emma had been quickly settled in her play room with her still new and fascinating Mojave Native American doll as company.

Once Ian and Suzanne were safely alone, he had broken the news to her about Tim Truman's hastily called bidders' conference and her need to travel immediately to Dubai. Since then, she had been on auto-pilot, as had been the Emirates A380 Airbus that had whisked her away from home and family, heading for who knew what in Dubai.

Most of her flight had been taken up with studying the briefing pack that had been hurriedly put together for her by John and Steve Cross, the latter of whom had joined her at Manchester, and who was even now meeting with the company's mid-eastern agents in the business centre of the luxury hotel a few floors below. Suzanne had a few short hours to try to get some rest before being woken to get ready for the factory tour with Tim Truman, and her first meeting with her rivals, WoongHongSa.

She stood at the floor to ceiling window of her 46th floor Club Premier room and gazed across the unfamiliar skyline of the city spread out before her. The sun had risen over the horizon at about 06:30, only half an hour before they had landed, and it was now just after 08:30. The city was starting to come to life, in particular the business district which was closest to her, and she could see the traffic starting to build and commuters hurrying along the sidewalks, scampering to their air-conditioned offices before the ambient temperature rose to its customary and uncomfortable level.

For the first time since her adventure had begun, Suzanne felt alone and concerned. She had been whisked away from her husband and partner with whom she had been sharing this amazing journey. She had been wrenched away from her daughter, again, at very short notice and immediately after her previous absence. For the first time she felt totally alone. Steve Cross had flown with her, but he wasn't aware of the details of her contract with Graham Leicester, and unlike Karl Solomon with whom she had travelled to London for her first adventure, Steve Cross knew nothing about her real role or function. He knew her only as Graham's new assistant and Ian's wife, and he resented her presence at what was an important sales meeting, something he considered to be his own domain.

It had been perfectly apparent to Suzanne on the flight that Steve had at once been appreciative of her feminine beauty, but at the same time had been suspicious and resentful of her involvement. He had worked hard to prepare her on the technical aspects of the bid to equip Tim Truman's new factory, and he had clearly been distracted by her attractive appearance, but his reserve and suspicion had been equally apparent in the questions he asked of her. Now he was downstairs in the business centre, meeting with their local agents in preparation for this afternoon's important meetings.

Suzanne was also conscious of a nagging worry about her contractual transgression, which had so pointedly been brought to her attention at the end of her second medical examination by Doctor Packard. There had been no time before her departure for any sort of briefing or conversation with Graham, who had been arriving back in Edinburgh just as she was being taken away to start her trip to Dubai. Consequently, she had had no opportunity to gauge Graham's reaction to the news that she was sure he would by now have received from the doctor. She had been badly affected by being forced to face up to the fact that she had done something both wrong and forbidden when she had, in the passion of the moment, invited the stranger to use her on the plane back from the USA. In the back of her mind she blamed herself and her husband for allowing her to get so carried away, forgetting her contract with Graham. She had used the stranger on the plane as a means to tease and frustrate her loving husband and hadn't for one moment considered Graham or her contract with him.

As she gazed across the skyline, tired and emotional from the events of the last 24 hours, she wondered again what the consequences of her misdemeanour might be. Yesterday morning she had been happy and carefree, at home with her husband and daughter, looking forwards to a potentially exciting day followed by an intimate evening to be shared with Ian. Now she felt she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, she was alone and tired in a strange city, facing an unknown challenge, and with the threat of Graham's displeasure and disappointment at her contractual breach hanging over her like a sword of Damocles. Suzanne recognised that she would be far more affected by Graham's disappointment in her than she would be by any physical punishment he may choose to bestow. In a short time she had come to seek his pleasure and approval above all things, even above her own comfort.

A clause from her contract came to her mind. "... the Employer shall be entitled to discipline the Employee in any manner the Employer so desires, without limitation, including any degree of physical punishment or restraint deemed appropriate in the sole judgement of the Employer".

Suzanne felt certain that she could bear whatever physical punishment Graham might decide was appropriate, but she feared his displeasure, and particularly his disappointment, much more.

For the first time, Suzanne began to think that it might have been a mistake to enter into such a contract. Doubt sprang into her mind, and she began to question what she, or more properly what she and Ian, were doing. With a sigh, she pressed the button which closed the curtains, blocking out the view before her and darkening the room. As she turned away from the window and stepped towards the large bed, her hands already reaching for the buttons on the blouse she had worn for the trip, the phone rang shrilly at the side of the bed, shocking her from her sad and lonely reverie.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Suzanne, how was your flight?" Graham's voice was its usual, quietly authoritative self, and there was no hint in his question that told her whether or not he was even aware of her infraction. She breathed a sigh of relief; she physically felt the tension that had been mounting inside her subside with the sound of this most mundane of enquiries, from a person and connection that was far from mundane. Whilst her head knew that she would be called to account at some point (she was convinced of the inevitability of that reality), she thought that for the time being at least, she was safe; she could worry about her failure again at some future time.

"Mr Leicester, Sir, thank you for calling. We arrived at the hotel a short time ago, and I was just going to get a couple of hours rest. The flight was fine, but Steve Cross kept me very busy rehearsing our bid and the technical proposal."

"I'm sure you are well prepared Suzanne. Steve is very professional, and despite any misgivings he may have about your role, he is a team player and he'll make sure that you are as ready as you can be for this afternoon's meetings. Don't forget that he has a significant investment in this proposal, and his commission and target earnings are dependent on a successful outcome."

Suzanne recognised the truth about what Graham was saying. She had clearly felt Steve's resentment regarding her involvement at this late stage, but she also recognised that he had put that behind him to do his very best to get her ready to meet what had been, up until now, his own client and most important prospect.

"Steve was very thorough Mr Leicester, although I did get the distinct impression that he isn't my greatest fan."

Graham laughed at her under-statement. "Don't you worry about that Suzanne! Close this deal for him and you'll find that his opinion, and his attitude, will quickly change. Like all salesmen, Steve is motivated mostly by money, and if he finds that you can help him close the deal, you'll be his best friend yet."

Suzanne sat on the edge of the bed, the phone resting between her ear and her shoulder, and she continued to unbutton her blouse and shrug it off as she listened to Graham speaking to her from several thousand miles away.

"You are going to be meeting Tim in a few hours; he'll want to show you around the site himself. Don't forget that from the first moment you meet him, you will be under the constant watch of our Korean friends. You are representing our company Suzanne. You must be constantly alert. Whilst you have my full authority to do whatever is necessary to win us the business, you must do it in an entirely professional manner, at least in public. As far as the competition is concerned, your behaviour is to be impeccable, with no hint that any special relationship exists between you and Tim. Do I make myself clear?"

As Graham had been talking, Suzanne had slipped out of the rest of her clothes and slid naked into the crispy white bed. Now she held the phone again to her ear and responded as she knew she must.

"Yes Sir! I understand."

Being naked and swaddled in the immaculately made and welcoming bed, feeling the crisply starched and yet luxuriantly gentle bed linen caress her skin, and responding to Graham Leicester as she had been taught, all combined to cause a rush of submissive pleasure to course through her body, and the first flush of sexual excitement warmed her centre, replacing the morbid thoughts that had possessed her only a few short minutes ago. As she settled back into the deep pillows holding the phone to the side of her head with one hand, she found her other hand sliding sensually beneath the thick duvet and across her naked torso, stopping briefly to tweak at an erecting nipple, before sliding further down across her taut, flat stomach and between her legs. She was surprised to feel that she was already moist as one of her fingers found its way between the lips of her sex, and as her palm pressed on the short, trimmed hair on her pubis.

"We have little intelligence about who is attending from WHS," continued Graham, apparently unaware that he was talking to a naked and rapidly warming woman at the other end of the line. "It will be important for you to collect as much information as you can about their delegation, giving as little information as you can get away with in return."

"Of course, Sir!" Suzanne recognised that she was responding, unbidden, to Graham's quiet instructions, and that whilst strictly unnecessary, her verbalised response was uttered sub-consciously, re-enforcing the submission that she was feeling and enjoying. As she spoke compliantly to her Master and owner, she squeezed her thighs together, increasing the pressure of her fingers, amazed at how wet and ready he could make her, even from afar, and whilst talking nothing but business.

"Suzanne, this is a real test for you. You need to balance professionalism and decorum with your most seductive powers to ensure that our company wins this contract. It is imperative that you succeed. I cannot begin to explain how disappointed I shall be personally if you fail."

She found the pressure that Graham was placing on her to be like an aphrodisiac. His words excited her like nothing had before; reinforcing her submission to him, enhancing his dominance and mastery over her. She felt the need to submit to him like a physical craving that tightened and puckered her nipples and made her arch her back as she listened.

"I'll do everything I can Sir," she breathed into the phone. She wished he were present so that she could demonstrate in person her eagerness to please him. One part of her mind wondered at this compliant and yielding surrender that she seemed to need to demonstrate; the rest of her revelled in it, wanting more. The tips of two fingers had hooked into her wet opening, the bud of her clitoris squeezed between them, pressure mounting on her mons veneris, squeezing the soft yielding flesh between the underside of her curling fingers and her pubic bone. Still Graham continued, apparently completely unconscious of the effect he was having on her.

"I trust that you will Suzanne; I have every faith in you and know that you won't let us down."

The trust he was demonstrating in her washed over her. She felt a strange gratitude for it, and an image crossed her mind. She remembered a faithful dog she had once owned that had wanted nothing better than to please her, and would sit at her feet, doughy-eyed, just waiting for her to give him an instruction or throw a ball for him to scamper after. She imagined that she felt a little like that faithful pet, eager to please and totally submissive to her own Master as the dog, in turn had been to her.

Graham continued.

"Get this done Suzanne, whatever it takes, and I will find an appropriate way to reward you. Just don't fail me again!"

Suzanne's eyes flew open with a jolt and she snatched her hand away from her soft wet centre. Her mind processed his words. There could be no doubt; he was aware of her transgression and he had just made her aware that he knew. There was a pregnant pause as Suzanne wondered how to react, what to say. A terrible dread and feeling of guilt washed over her, and she flushed bright red. She was speechless and embarrassed, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Several times she started as if to say something, and several times she stopped herself. Graham let the silent seconds drag on, imagining her reaction, letting the suspense escalate. Finally, he broke his silence.

"Yes Suzanne, I am aware of your breeching our contract terms. I haven't yet decided what to do about it, but I want you to put it out of your mind for now. You have important matters at hand, and you must not be distracted."

The rebellious part of Suzanne's mind thought that she had been doing a pretty good job of forgetting about her guilty secret until Graham himself had reminded her of it. The submissive part of her mind couldn't resist acknowledging her guilt, and she found herself saying, "I'm very sorry about that Mr Leicester. It was an oversight, a momentary lapse, a mistake. I promise never to let anything similar happen again Sir."

Graham quietened her down and made her promise to put it behind her until after her return from Dubai. When he was satisfied with her demeanour, he wished her good bye and good luck, and ended the call.

Suzanne replaced the receiver and settled back into the crisp white pillows, her mind unsettled and unsure. She had been through so many conflicting emotions in so short a period of time that she felt exhausted. All thoughts of continuing with her erotic self-exploration were gone, and as she tried to make sense of her feelings and come to terms with what was required of her, her eyes closed and she drifted off into a troubled and restless sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The factory tour proved non-eventful. Suzanne had woken from her restless sleep before the alarm call she had ordered came in. By the time the call came through, she had already risen, showered and started her make-up. She had answered the alarm call from the handset in the bathroom, and then dressed carefully and professionally. Dark slacks and crisp white blouse with sensible shoes to walk around what was still a building site. No jacket; it was going to be hot.

She had met Steve Cross in the lobby and they had been collected from the hotel by Tim Truman's driver, who had whisked them to the factory site, a trip of about 35 minutes. There they had joined up with their own local agents, the representatives of WoongHongSa and with Tim himself. After a somewhat strained round of introductions, with equal levels of competitive reserve and interest from the delegates of the two competing companies towards each other, Tim had issued them all hard hats and proceeded to show them around his installation with evident pride in its scope and scale.

Tim had behaved very professionally when greeting Suzanne in front of the others, with no hint that there had been any previous relationship. Suzanne had reciprocated in kind, and watched and listened intently as the tour went on. At her side, Steve Cross had been equally attentive, making notes and snapping pictures as they toured the embryonic facility, no doubt preparing himself for the final tweaks to their design and bid which needed to be submitted the next morning.

At the end of the tour, they had convened in a portakabin meeting room at the edge of the site, and Tim had asked for final questions. Very little had been asked; primarily because neither party wished to appear stupid in front of the other, or to reveal their own bid strategy, each being inhibited by the other's presence.

Tim had recognised their reluctance and the reason for it, and had finished by thanking them all for coming, and then inviting them all to a dinner that evening at his own hotel, the Burj-al-Arab, located on its own island, about 5 miles down the coast from where Suzanne was staying.

In the event, the main representatives of both companies excused themselves on the basis of last minute work on their respective bids, and it was agreed that it would be a small party meeting for dinner, consisting of Tim himself, Suzanne representing Ruler Electronics, and the executive from WoongHongSa, a small, sharp and intelligent Korean man improbably named Oh Ho-Mo.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Now it was evening, and Suzanne was making the last preparations before heading off to the Burj-al-Arab for dinner.

Again, Suzanne had dressed carefully, but from the very limited wardrobe that she and Ian had packed the day before. Sensitive to acceptable dress code in the Arab and Bedouin state, Suzanne's only real choice was a heavily brocaded bodice top or bustier in a rich mahogany red with gold applique. It had spaghetti straps and was cut short, leaving her shoulders and midriff bare. With it she wore a long wraparound skirt in the same material, with gold heels. She had put her hair up, and with the addition of completely over-the-top dangly earrings and a deep red pashmina to cover her shoulders and wrap around her midriff, the overall impression was graceful and elegant Eastern.

Taking her small clutch bag with her, she headed down to the lobby in time to meet the waiting car that had thoughtfully been arranged by Tim Truman.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dinner was in Tim's suite at the Burj al Arab, a magnificent apartment that lived up to the 7-star reputation of the hotel. With only three of them present, Tim had cancelled the private dining room he had anticipated using, and he, Suzanne and Oh Ho-Mo were seated intimately around the larger dining table of Tim's own suite, with hotel staff busy catering to them and meeting their every need. The food was sumptuous and western, and Suzanne found herself relaxing in the quiet and informal business ambience.