by B. B. Hamel
Kevin leaves the room quickly, leaving us with only the engineering division, and they don’t mean shit. I sigh and sit back down in my chair as Riley fields some questions from them.
She does a decent job after that, but it’s too late. We lost the sale. We’ll never hear from that guy again, I can say that for sure. The worst part is, Riley has no clue. She spends a half hour explaining tech to techies that don’t matter at all, and in the end, she’s in a better mood.
“That didn’t go too bad,” she says in the car as we drive toward the hotel. We only had one meeting today, just to ease us into our brutal upcoming schedule. We’re in the middle of Indiana, in some little no-name town that probably doesn’t show up on Google.
“Sure,” I say to her. “Went great.”
She gives me a look. “What’s that tone mean?”
“There’s no way in hell they’re going to call us.”
She looks surprised. “But those engineers, they seemed really excited.”
“They don’t matter.”
“What? They’re the ones that are going to sell the stuff and install it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “The only one who mattered left before you even got on a roll.”
“The CEO?” She cocks her head. “I mean, he seemed interested, he—”
“He wasn’t,” I interrupt. “Not even a little bit.”
She glares at me. “And this is supposed to be my fault?”
“Pretty much.”
“Oh, you asshole. As if your presentation didn’t have them bored to tears.”
“My presentation set you up,” I say, pulling into the parking lot of some ramshackle Best Western. “And you dropped the ball.”
She glares at me as I park. We climb out of the car and she doesn’t say a word as we check into our rooms and head up to the third floor. She swipes her card and slams her door behind her as I sigh and head into my own room.
I think I just screwed up, but I’m tired and frustrated. She’s been so difficult, fighting me at every turn. If she had been more willing to practice on the plane and during the drive, maybe this wouldn’t have happened, but all this is beneath her.
I’m frustrated as I toss my suitcase down onto the floor. I’m about to head into the bathroom to take a shower, but there’s a knock at my door.
I open it without looking. She glares at me, arms crossed. “What the hell did I do wrong?” she asks me.
“Come on in,” I say, fighting back a smile.
She storms into my room and whirls on me, hands on her hips. “You’re supposed to be the hotshot salesman.”
“I know,” I say, letting the door close. “That was a tough case. I think he made up his mind before we even showed up.”
“So how was it my fault?” she asks.
I sigh and sit down on a chair against the near well. “It wasn’t,” I say. “I was too harsh in the car.”
That takes some of the steam out of her anger. “Damn right you were.”
“That doesn’t let you off the hook.”
She hesitates, but sits down at the edge of the bed. “Fine. What did I do wrong?”
“First of all, you weren’t ready. Every presentation’s going to be slightly different, and I need you prepared to get up when I call on you.”
“Fine,” she says, clenching her jaw.
“And you didn’t know what you were going to say,” I add. “You didn’t find your groove until the engineers were asking questions, but it was too late at that point.”
“How am I supposed to know what I’m going to say when I don’t even know when you’re going to call me up? I mean, you could set me up a million different ways.”
“Fair point,” I concede. “We can work on that. But in the meantime, your job is simple. Get up there and make them understand what you’ve created in a way I can’t. You’re explaining the tech, and I’m making them understand why they absolutely have to have it.”
I get up and walk over, sitting down next to her. Our legs are touching but she doesn’t shy away.
“There’s a reason I brought you,” I say softly. “You’re good at this. I think you’re a natural salesman, although I bet you hate hearing that.”
She looks away. “Thanks, I guess.”
“But you need to listen, okay? Take it seriously. Sometimes I can close this shit without you, but sometimes you’ll need to step up.”
She grunts in response, keeping her eyes away from mine. I lean in a little closer and I get a spike of excitement in my stomach as my hand brushes up against her thigh.
She turns toward me and I cock my head. “Are you nervous?” I ask her.
“No,” she whispers.
“I mean, when you speak.”
She blushes. “A little bit.”
I smirk and move even closer. We’re inches apart now. “You need to relax. You know you’re the most high-strung person I’ve ever met, right?”
“That can’t be true.”
“It’s absolutely true. But I know a technique that can help.”
She frowns a little bit. “Yeah? What’s that?”
I put my hand on the inside of her thigh and push her legs open a little bit. Her eyes widen as I slide down onto the floor in front of her, spreading her legs even wider.
“This always works,” I say as I push her skirt up over her hips.
“What are you doing?” There’s a slight edge of panic to her voice.
I grab her panties and slowly slide them off. She lifts up her hips to help me get them over her ass. I slide them all the way down and over her feet, tossing them aside.
I spread her legs wide now, her pussy bare and shining for me. “I’m helping you relax.”
She lets out a soft moan as I lean forward and kiss her inner thigh. I move closer until my mouth is on her delicious pussy, spreading her wide with my tongue before sucking and licking her clit.
She lets out these fucking adorable and so fucking sexy moans that make my cock hard as hell. I hook my arms under her legs and grab her ass, pulling her tighter as my tongue and lips move faster on her clit, her moans getting louder in my ears.
“I thought we were keeping it professional?” she manages to groan.
I look up at her and smirk. “This is professional. I’m just trying to help you relax.”
“Fuck,” she moans as I dive back down, sucking her clit and licking her fast. I slide my tongue inside and back out before moving one hand down to tease her dripping pussy.
I slide two fingers inside as she groans. I nibble at her clit, licking at it as I fuck her with my fingers. She reaches down to run her fingers through my hair, pushing my mouth tighter against her pussy as I slide my fingers deeper.
“Fucking asshole,” she moans as I lick and suck and fuck her.
I love the way she insults me. Fuck, I love that she hates me a little bit, as fucked up as that is. It gets me so hard just imagining how much she despises me, although she also really wants me. I love the confusion, how fucked up it all is, and I can’t help myself. To top it all off, she’s pregnant with my baby right now.
I keep going, moving faster, getting into her rhythm. She groans, her hips thrusting against my mouth, her muscles straining. She’s so fucking beautiful and her pussy tastes so fucking good, I don’t want this moment to stop. I know as soon as she comes, she’s going to be pissed at me, but it doesn’t matter. I want this to stretch on forever.
I push my fingers deeper and faster, tongue and lips working her clit, and her moans get loud as her fingers tighten in my hair. I know she’s close, and I don’t relent. She comes against my mouth with my fingers buried deep in her pussy, her whole body moving with me, moans escaping her lips like strangled pleas for more.
Finally, she finishes and falls back on the bed. I laugh and lick my fingers clean. She rolls onto her side, away from me, and I rock back onto my heels.
“There, isn’t that better?” I ask.
“Assho
le,” she grumbles and slowly sits up. “You really know how to mess things up, don’t you?”
I cock my head but I’m not surprised by this. “I don’t think I’m messing anything up. In fact, I think I’m giving you exactly what you want.”
“Asshole,” she says again, standing. She adjusts her dress, tugging it down, and storms away. She throws open the door, looks back at me once, and disappears. I hear her door open and slam shut.
I smirk to myself and stand, knees clicking. I sigh and sit on the bed before my eyes stray to the panties she left on the floor, a smile slowly slipping onto my lips.
11
Riley
This whole goddamn thing is confusing, but for some reason, I’m actually starting to enjoy myself.
Maybe it’s the little “relaxation technique” that Aaron showed me, or maybe I’m just starting to get more comfortable with my role. The first week flies past, one day after the next of meetings followed by boring hotel rooms. We drive across Indiana, heading toward the Chicago area, taking meeting after meeting with owners that typically don’t care about anything but the free lunch we offer them after the presentation. It’s frustrating, but at least Aaron doesn’t complain about my performance anymore.
“These guys are gonna buy,” he says to me as we drive to a local Applebee’s.
“How do you know?” I ask. “We haven’t met them yet.”
“Just got a certain eagerness over the phone. Besides, not a lot of them want to meet after work hours.”
“Good point,” I say, although I don’t add that I’d also rather not meet after business hours. This is my job, and Aaron hates when I whine about it. I can’t really blame him. It’s about time I sucked it up and made the best of my situation.
We park in the lot and head inside. It’s like any other Applebee’s, and Aaron spots the guys we’re here to meet sitting at the bar. The first man’s name is Roger. He’s portly, with a thick mustache and a crisp white shirt. The other guy’s a lot younger, maybe in his twenties, and I spot the resemblance almost immediately.
“Roger, Carter, this is Riley,” Aaron introduces me. “She’s the head engineer.”
“Well now, a lady engineer,” Roger bellows.
“Jesus, Dad,” Carter quickly says. “You can’t say things like that.”
“What?” He looks around like he has no clue what his son’s talking about. “I’m just saying, not a lot of lady engineers. It’s impressive!”
“Okay, let’s sit down before my father says something racist.” Carter quickly ushers us all to stools at the bar. Aaron sits closest to the two men, and instantly starts talking about the panels.
I can’t say I’m too insulted by what the old guy said, although I’m surprised he actually said it out loud. I can tell people are thinking that when they first meet me based on the looks they give, but they normally are polite enough to keep it to themselves.
Apparently, this guy isn’t so polite.
“Drinks!” he bellows, interrupting Aaron’s pitch. “We need some drinks if I’m going to listen to this all night.”
Carter winces. “Dad, come on. Be polite.”
“Polite,” the old man rumbles. “That shit’s for you young people. Bartender!”
The bartender, a young girl with thick blonde hair and too much makeup, trots over. “What can I get you guys?”
“Whisky for me,” Roger bellows. “Beer for my boy and the salesman fellow. And a white wine for the lady.”
I blink, surprised. I haven’t had someone order me a drink in a while. Aaron’s about to say something but the bartender trots off to get the drinks before he can speak up.
He gives me an apologetic look but gets back to business. The bartender returns with the drinks and I take a tiny sip of mine, just to placate Roger. He drinks enough for both of us, though, finishing off two more whiskies by the time Aaron finishes pitching to Carter.
“Is all that true?” Carter asks Aaron. “I mean, it sounds promising. But do you have production models yet?”
Aaron turns to me. “I think you can take over,” he says, shifting himself out of his seat.
I slide across and take his vacated stool. As I’m about to answer Carter, his father speaks up. “Your wine!”
I’m a little startled. “I’m sorry, what was that, sir?”
“Your wine,” he repeats. “You’re not drinking. You’ll let an old man drink alone?”
“You’re not alone,” I point out. “And everyone else is drinking.”
“But you’re not! It’s rude.”
Aaron sits down next to me and leans over the bar. “And it’s rude to force a lady to drink when she doesn’t want to.” He glares at the old whale, and I’m genuinely surprised.
“It’s okay, I’m just—” I start to say, but Aaron stops me.
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He looks up at Roger again. “Or are you going to force her to talk about her personal life at a business meeting?”
“Okay, okay,” Carter finally speaks up. “Dad, you’ve had enough to drink. Riley, can we get back to business?”
I nod gratefully, and we start talking specifics again.
By the end of the night, Carter makes a verbal commitment to buy. We head back to the car, and Aaron’s practically beaming.
“Finally!” he says, laughing. “Took us long enough.”
“Think he’s for real?” I ask.
“Definitely.” He unlocks the car and we get in. “I think he’ll actually buy, too.”
“Really?” I feel a surge of excitement. “You think so?”
“I feel it.” He laughs, starting the engine. “And holy shit, his father. That guy was a piece of shit.”
“Lady engineer,” I quote, and Aaron laughs.
“And trying to force you to drink! Jesus, if his son weren’t there, I bet the old bastard would’ve pinched your ass or something.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Listen, you didn’t need to stand up for me.”
“I know,” he says. “But I wanted that sale, and I knew that the old bastard was going to ruin it if I let him.”
I grin. “It wasn’t for my honor, then?”
He turns to me, expression serious. “It was for you,” he says. “This whole trip is for you, remember?”
He turns back to the road and I’m taken aback. He was so sincere that I can’t decide if he’s fucking with me or if he really means it.
But I can see where he’s coming from. If this trip is a success, I stand to make a lot of money. Still, this trip is far from my idea of a good time. I never wanted any of it.
“We’ll probably get some more of that, you know,” he says after a short silence. “It’s messed up and not right, but it’s probably going to happen again.”
“Men are pigs and sexists,” I say, grinning at him. “Right?”
“Exactly,” he agrees, nodding along with me. “And you’d better stick with me, little lady. I’ll protect you.”
I laugh and punch his arm, leaning toward him and smiling. I feel high from the excitement of that sale, and I don’t want the night to end.
We get back to the hotel and head up to our rooms. I pause outside of mine, looking at him for a second. He looks back, a little quizzical expression on his face.
I have to admit, he’s impressive. He’s an asshole and pushy and I dislike him most of the time, but he still knows what he’s doing. Sure, he doesn’t close every single meeting, but I can tell he’ll close every single meeting where we have a chance. And the fact that he wants to spend all this time with me on the road, all for my own benefit, it says something about him.
But it’s not just for my benefit, I have to keep reminding myself. He wants my baby and he wants me, and this is all a part of his trap. He wants me to start overlooking all the things I don’t like about him. He wants to charm me.
I’m not going to let that happen. I can’t let it happen. I’m putting this baby up for adoption, one way or another.
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“Goodnight,” I say to him, and head into my room.
“Night,” he says as my door shuts behind me.
12
Aaron
We almost drove past this place. Tucker Solar is situated down a long dirt road in the middle of what looks like a freaking forest. It’s a single-story building, white with big windows in the front, though the windows are covered over with blinds. I think it might have been a factory at some point, or maybe a machine shop, but it’s neither of those these days.
The owners are brothers, Peter and Lionel Tucker. I can tell the older brother, Peter, is more interested in what we’re offering than the younger brother is, so I pitch mostly to him the whole time.
The end is where things get tricky.
“Tell us exactly why we should stock these things,” Lionel says finally as I finish up my presentation. “I mean, it all sounds nice and fancy, but why would anyone buy this stuff?”
“It’s better tech,” I say flatly. “The batteries store more, the panels are more efficient, everything is improved.”
“That’s what every manufacturer says,” he answers, waving me away.
“My lead engineer, Riley Hollins, can explain this—”
“No,” Lionel says, eyes locked on me. “I want to hear it from you.”
I hesitate. “She’s the real brain here, I assure you,” I say, and Peter laughs, but Lionel doesn’t crack a smile.
“I don’t care what the girl has to say, I want to hear it from you.”
I can feel the mood shift. I glance back at Riley, but if she’s annoyed, she doesn’t let it show. Peter looks uncomfortable, and he’s about to speak up, but I beat him to it.
“Our panels kick the fucking shit out of all the garbage you sell,” I say to Lionel. “You want a reason to stock it? There’s your reason. You can bitch and moan about overhead and installation costs, and we’ll help with all that. But at the end of the day, the only thing we offer that other manufacturers don’t is a higher quality product.”
I can feel the room go still. I don’t move a muscle. I keep my face completely impassive.