The Focus Group Ch. 02

The story so far: Hoping to earn a little extra money in case she's fired or has to quickly leave her job, office worker Marissa has accepted a very attractive offer from a marketing firm to evaluate a new product for them at their New York City headquarters.

***

It had taken a little over a week of back-and-forth e-mails, but Marissa and the folks at QSA, as they liked to refer to themselves, had finally come to terms on an agreeable date for her product test. Marissa was blown away by how accommodating they had been – even agreeing to schedule the test for a Saturday so she wouldn't be forced to take a sick day and further endanger her continued employability.

The plan was for her to hop Amtrak immediately after work on that Friday – the speedier and pricier Acela, even – and then check in to a suite at a discreet but luxurious boutique hotel near the company's New York City headquarters. At each departure and arrival, she'd receive car service that would take her anywhere she wanted to go – as long as she was able to make the 9 a.m. call time. As the testing sometimes ran long, the company even offered to pay for a second night if she wanted to make a weekend of it. She enthusiastically accepted the offer.

It was a warm evening when the cab dropped her at the train station with the rolling suitcase she kept packed with necessities in case of a last minute business trip or romantic getaway. With the rise in cutbacks at work, travel had been severely curtailed, and given the way her romantic life had been going lately, the prospect of sneaking off for a weekend with anyone but herself had been remote. Still, she felt a bit like she was leaving town surreptitiously, so the wardrobe called for something opposite from business. She'd rummaged in her closet and found a cotton wrap skirt and a simple white blouse that she thought would do very nicely.

Marissa stepped between the long, pew-like benches in the cavernous main hall of the station and compared the computer printout with her ticket and boarding information with the electronic board displaying departure and arrival times. She was relieved to see her train was on time from Baltimore and she wouldn't have to spend too much time tempted by the smells wafting over from the bakery in the adjacent food court.

"Headed to New York, too, then?" said a baritone voice from just behind her. She turned her head to see who was speaking and was met with a pleasantly handsome traveler supporting his own rolling suitcase. Marissa cocked a questioning eyebrow at his presumption.

"Sorry. Wasn't snooping, I promise. Just happened to see your destination on your printout there," he said as he gestured with his free hand, which held a cup from the coffee stand. "I see you're First Class, too. I was just getting ready to head over to the lounge if you'd like to join me."

She had yet to speak a word to him and already he was inviting her places. She grinned. For all he knew she didn't even speak English – or perhaps worse, sounded like one of the nightmare women from a reality TV show set in northern New Jersey or Long Island.

"Is something funny?" His accent, on the other hand, was reminiscent of a less pompous Cary Grant – not quite British, but not quite American, either. She gave him a quick once-over and was additionally pleased – well-tailored suit, pressed shirt, no tie and stylish shoes that had apparently been shined not long ago.

"I was just wondering if you always go around inviting women you don't know into the First Class lounge or if I'm just one of the lucky few."

He chuckled himself. "I supposed that would make you just one of the lucky few. Sorry to be so forward, but the lounge is usually filled with middle-aged businessmen unsuccessfully attempting to hold in their after-lunch flatulence. I thought someone who looked and smelled as lovely as you would be a nice change of pace."

She laughed and gave him a little tap on the arm with her ticket printout. "Well, honestly, how can a girl resist an offer like that? Lead the way."

They pulled their cases along towards the far corner of the station to an elevator, where one level up was the First Class lounge tucked behind discreetly frosted glass. As a counterpoint to the uncomfortable benches in the main station, here the room was set with several comfortable-looking couches and individual leather club chairs. In the corner was a complimentary beverage and snack station, and the wall-mounted flat-screen TV silently displayed CNN's accounts of the latest global turmoil and political silliness. Along with the female snack station attendant were four businessmen who all had the same pasty, pale and slightly balding look as her annoying boss. They looked up simultaneously as she stepped off the elevator, and she caught two quickly sucking in their paunches and smoothing their ties as she strolled past. She grinned at the effect she had, but so wanted to tell them they should simply head on home to their families and not waste fantasy time on her – even though she was so worth it.

"Scone?" her fellow traveler asked.

"I shouldn't. I'm sure my coffee had enough calories to last me for the rest of the weekend."

"I sense an unfortunate pattern of denial. Shouldn't you occasionally give in to things that you know will bring you pleasure?"

She smirked, but couldn't help noticing the warmth creeping over her as she met his intense gaze.

"I'm not so sure. Are we still just talking about scones?"

"Of course. What else would we be talking about?"

He took his scone and motioned for her to sit in one of the single chairs, waiting for her before he took a seat himself.

"You'll tell me if I end up with crumbs down the front of my shirt, won't you?" he said before breaking off a piece and popping it his mouth.

"I don't know. You seem like the sort of man who doesn't deal with many crumbs. And besides, it wouldn't make any difference. I'm sure you'd look just as good dressed in a sack and covered with mud."

"Would I, now?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

"You would, indeed."

She heard one of the other businessmen clear his throat and cough as if the remind her and her new friend that they weren't alone. Just then the garbled announcement of the train to Baltimore crackled over the PA system and all their attention turned to cinching up trousers, gathering rolling briefcases, smoothing ties and checking tickets before they filed toward the elevator. As the doors slid shut, the shortest and the roundest of the departing businessmen locked eyes with her and boldly arched his eyebrow, as if to say, "Good hunting." She couldn't help but smirk back and lower her eyes.

"I have to admit I'm not accustomed to receiving such flattery from someone whose name I don't even know. I'm Nigel, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Nigel. And I'm positive you're just fibbing. I have no doubt you're entirely used to being on the business end of unsolicited compliments. And it's Marissa."

"As are you, I'm sure." He smiled when he said it, letting his eyes slowly travel from her face down to where her legs were crossed at the knee. "So, what takes you to New York today? Business or pleasure?"

"Business, I suppose."

"You suppose? I'd expect to know the difference. Of course, I imagine it depends on what sort of business you're in, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it would. But this isn't my normal business. This is more of a ... freelance opportunity."

"An adventure! I'm more intrigued by the moment. Please share. My business is dreadfully dull and involves far too many drab conference rooms and too much late night hotel room cable television. I'm curious to hear about someone on an adventure."

Marissa suddenly found herself wondering what sort of late night cable he might be watching, and the image of this handsome stranger reclining in the bed at a luxury hotel, propped up on multiple pillows with the white room-provided robe open to reveal his naked form while he pleasured himself to pay-per-view adult films flashed through her brain. She felt her cheeks flush as she re-crossed her legs, enjoying the tingling between them.

"Well, you've heard of those companies that pay you to tell the marketing people what they think of a new ad or product? It's kind of like that, except on a much bigger scale."

"Bigger as in the product or bigger as in the payday? Our company uses those programs and I know they only pay a few hundred dollars at most."

"Both, I guess. It's all very mysterious. I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I took the offer, but I still don't know exactly what I'm in for."

"Only that you're going to get paid quite a large sum of money for whatever it is?"

"Exactly. And that the product is of ... how did they say it? A personal nature."

"Very interesting. I do hope it's all worth it, then. So I must ask, are you entirely committed to this mysterious business of a lucrative and personal nature during your stay in New York, or will you have a little free time to indulge in some pleasure?"

His gaze held firm. He was likely fifteen years older than she was, if not more, but the fact didn't diminish her arousal. His stylishly short hair was flecked with gray, and she found herself enjoying the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when she made him smile.

"Well, Nigel, I'm always up for the opportunity for some pleasure, in spite of ... What did you call it?

"Ah, yes. I believe it was 'your unfortunate pattern of denial."

"Yes, that's it. My unfortunate pattern of denial. What sort of pleasure did you have in mind?"

Marissa heard rustling behind them and the sound of trays being shifted.

"Folks, I'm heading out. My relief person is running a little late, but she'll be here in about 20 minutes. Is there anything I can get you before I go?"

Both Nigel and Marissa looked at each other conspiratorially and answered, "No, thank you."

They waited for the sound of her departure and the silence hung in the air for a moment.

Her legs still crossed, Marissa leaned forward, her arms hard to her side to emphasize her cleavage, knowing that her blouse would reveal to him more of the view that he secretly sought. "So, Nigel, I believe the topic before we were interrupted was pleasure."

He shifted in his seat. She wasn't sure if it was because he'd been sitting on his wallet too long or because of the growing erection she was trying to inspire, but she strongly suspected it was the latter. Despite the fact that he was handsome and cultured and well dressed, she imagined such a forward response from a woman he'd just met was largely unfamiliar to him, even with his emphatic flirting.

"Given my unfortunate pattern of denial, I should probably sit here, letting you get me turned on and all slippery, and convince myself that I shouldn't reach over across this dingy first class lounge carpet and unzip those finely tailored trousers of yours and give you some of that pleasure myself, right?"

"When is our train, again?"

She shifted her hips in her chair to be sure her right hand could reach him on the first try and there would be no awkward fumbling on her part. "Not for a while. And the snack bar attendant said we have a good 20 minutes before her replacement arrives."

He sat back, uncrossed his legs and again fixed her with his intense gaze. "I supposed you'd better get moving, then."

His suit jacket was unbuttoned and spread open as he placed both his hands on the chair's arms. She broke the gaze and glanced at his crotch, then licked her lips at the growing tent in the fine fabric.

"I'm afraid I'm going to make you do all of the work, though," he said, smirking.

She delighted in how he shifted gears to take control. Little did he know what she would soon be the one controlling him. Marissa leaned forward and ran her right hand up his thigh, stopping just short of the crotch. "It's a good thing I'm a particularly hard worker." She felt for the hardness and found it, hard and pulsating, then moved forward onto her knees and used her other hand to begin unbuckling him. A quick zip and a tug on his jet black designer boxer briefs and his full length and thickness were revealed to her. She hummed with satisfaction at the sight, gripping him slightly to feel it throb under her touch.

Nigel gasped but didn't break his gaze. "If you worked for me I'd make sure you received a commendation for being such a ..."

She flicked the throbbing head with the tip of her tongue.

" ... motivated self-starter."

She laughed, letting her breath play over the head before she extended her tongue again to swirl it delicately around the ridge. She was rewarded with another gasp, then the feeling of his right hand grazing over her auburn hair. She kissed the tip lightly then, determined to stretch his pleasure out for as long as they had. With her left hand she used her forefinger and thumb to encircle the base of his cock, then moved it off to the side, alternating soft kisses and flicks of her tongue as she worked her way down its length.

He was groomed down there but by no means bare, and she relished the taut smoothness of the skin at his base before she breathed in his clean musk. As she made her way back up, she extended her thumb to stretch along the underside of his cock, lightly stroking the ridge just below the hole.

He shuddered and Marissa felt his hand gently claw through her hair. If she didn't know she had him already, she would certainly have known it then. He shifted in the chair and gently thrust against her, hoping, she supposed, to encourage her to take him fully.

Not yet, lovely man. Not just yet.

She pressed her hands against his thighs and pushed him back, locking eyes with him again. Free of her grasp, his cock twitched against her cheek, where she let it find its own way until she turned and let her lips graze against it from base to tip. Then she lingered there, holding his head between her lips while she used her tongue to flick the hole.

With a sharp intake of breath he gripped the back of her head and gently pulled her deeper onto him. She opened and let him slip over her tongue, looking up at him again to gauge his arousal. As if she needed the confirmation, it was most definitely high. She held him there, feeling him pulse and throb for a moment before beginning to slowly slide him out. Before easing him back in, she placed both hands against the base of his shaft, in part to stimulate him further, but also to control the depth of his entry. His length wasn't more than she could handle, and she had faith in her ability to control her own gag reflex, but there was no point in pushing her luck.

She sensed that time was becoming an issue, so she decided to dispense with further teasing and move ahead to the main event. She engulfed him again, then pulled him back out again while pulling tight with her lips – gently and slowly at first, then with increasing speed and intensity, gradually pairing the work of her mouth and lips with gentle up and down stroking along his shaft with both hands.

Nigel's breathing quickened as he continued to stroke her hair, gradually increasing the strength of his grip until he held a handful of her hair, a feeling that drove her speed to increase even more, wishing she had the time and free hand to touch herself as she felt him grow closer and closer to his climax. But as easy as it would be to slip a hand up her skirt and explore the rush of wetness there, she needed to finish him before a fellow first class traveler stepped off the elevator and found them in their exceptionally compromising position.

Finally, she positioned her lips tightly over his head and used her right hand to stroke his saliva slicked shaft, drawing his hips up off the seat in his ecstasy as he gripped the arms of the chair. She worked him up and down in her mouth until the guttural noises coming from Nigel told him what to expect. She descended on his shaft and with her final pull, he grunted and moaned, "Oh, dear lord," and she felt his seed spurt down her throat. She let it slide down, and there was another, his cock pulsing drop after drop over her tongue.

Marissa pulled on his cock once more to milk the remaining semen from him, then daintily wiped the corner of her mouth and tucked Nigel's softening shaft back into his pants.

The urge to abandon all propriety and fuck him right there was strong, but she knew there was neither time for him to recover – even under the best conditions – nor enough of a window for her to get what she craved without being discovered, probably arrested and most definitely losing her opportunity in New York.

Nigel worked to quickly adjust his trousers and straighten his suit. He extracted a handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and dabbed at his brow and upper lip while waiting for his breathing to regulate again.

"Well, I must say this trip is off to a much better start than most. First class in more ways than one."

Marissa sat back, crossed her legs, feeling her squishy excitement and still wishing to be taken care of herself.

"You've got that right, mister. I'm looking forward to the rest of the trip more and more now."

Marissa heard rustling behind her, which she guessed announced the arrival of the next shift at the refreshment station. It seemed the relief person wasn't running so late after all.

She turned to look, and found that in contrast to her matronly predecessor, this one was younger – a college student or recent college grad, she surmised – and much more attractive. She wore her jet black hair in a short bob that Marissa imagined in the girl's off hours was complemented by fashionably Goth jewelry. Marissa imagined her in an outfit that better exposed the tattoos she likely sported under the fitted uniform blouse that accentuated her ample bosom. Somehow she wouldn't have minded being caught by her.

"Afternoon, folks. My name's April." Marissa thought she detected a slight smirk. Maybe she had been caught after all. What exactly did she see?

Nigel was still flustered but managed to nod hello. Marissa was positive he was blushing. She gave him a reassuring rub on his thigh.

"Please let me know if there's anything I can get you that you haven't already found yourselves," April said as she removed fresh carafes of coffee from her tray and replaced them with those that had been out earlier. "I'll be right back with more goodies."

Nigel was still trying to compose himself and had missed the exchange, but as Marissa watched her exit she couldn't help envisioning the younger woman dressed for a night out in the warm city – perhaps a pleated black kilt, high lace-up boots over black stockings and one of those tops that was essentially an oversized t-shirt with large sleeve holes cut out, allowing for a nearly unobstructed side view of her pert twenty-something breasts. It wasn't helping her become less aroused.

Marissa stood and bent over Nigel's forehead, placing a light kiss there as she caressed his cheek. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Peeking around the corner behind the refreshment station, she saw a swinging door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" and headed in that direction. She swung the door open to find April with her back to the door, filling her tray with a new round of snacks.

"I'm sorry ma'am. I'm afraid you're not allowed to be back here," April said after she turned to see Marissa there.

Marissa stood her ground. "April, could I see your phone, please?"

"My what?"

"Your phone." She extended her hand palm up. "Now, please?"

April extracted her phone from the back pocket of her uniform pants – made of some unfortunate artificial fabric but still tight enough to accentuate the curve of her ass – and timidly handed it over. Marissa noted the purple punk rock Hello Kitty cover on the iPhone before she swiped across the screen and found what she suspected was there: a video clip of her enthusiastically sucking Nigel's lovely cock, obviously taken from a vantage point just outside the tiny kitchen area.