Closing Time 02 – FTDS by ribnitin,ribnitin

“I don’t know any details of the IPO. I’m not going to lie to my husband so I can go dancing with your son.”

“It will be the truth. The Hamptons club has some small meeting rooms. I’ll reserve one, and we’ll talk business between dances. Sarah, this will make Albert very happy. It will make me very happy. It can make you very rich.”

I acquiesced. It was true that Albert was a great dancer, though he barely touched me at first. When the band played “Only You” by the Platters I was swept up in the mood and told him to put his arms around my back. I clasped mine behind his neck. When the song ended, I gently kissed his lips.

“That was fantastic, Albert. You’re a wonderful young man and a terrific dancer.”

Joy was radiating from his eyes, from his grin. “I enjoyed it too. Does that mean you’ll take off your panties and let me touch you?”

I was giddy from the dance, and maybe from the cocktails I had consumed. “Take my panties off AND touch me? You’re pushing your luck, young man. Like I said, maybe some other time.”

“Okay.”

“I left a bag in your car with my regular business clothes. Can one of you go get it? I need to change out of these clubbing clothes before I go home.”

Thomas volunteered to go to the car. “Go into our meeting room, you two. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Albert followed me into the room. “Do you mind if I watch you change?”

I wasn’t changing my top, and he had already seen me bare-legged. I was in a good mood, so to have a little fun I asked him to undo the clasp on my skirt and let it fall to the floor. Albert quickly wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. “Will you take off your panties now?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

We both turned at the sound of Thomas clearing his throat. He moved over to the wall and flicked a switch. “Maybe you and Albert would like to dance a little more.” The club’s live music came through a tinny speaker. “Albert, offer the lady a dance.”

I wanted to go home, but Albert held his arms open in invitation. I sighed. He had made a lot of progress with me, maybe too much. “Last song before I leave.” Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love” came on, and Albert wrapped his arms around my back, resting just above my ass. As we danced, his hands slipped a little lower. One of us, I’m not sure which, moved in a little closer. The song ended and we kissed. Not a long, lingering kiss. Just friends expressing their appreciation of a beautiful dance together.

Or so I told myself as Thomas and Albert drove me back to my car. I touched up my appearance in my rear-view mirror and headed home.

Two days later it was lunch again with the Firstens. Thomas introduced me to Candy Ortega, who represented Managua Capital, the investment bank for his IPO. Albert kept his hand on my thigh throughout the entire meal as his father explained the ins and outs of his proposal for taking the company public. The Firstens stood to make a fortune from it, and if I quit my job and joined them, so did I. It could bring me multiple millions of dollars, depending on how much I would invest at the outset. Initial Public Offerings were complex affairs, closely regulated by the SEC. Thomas explained he brought on the best advisors to work with him.

I refused his suggestion that I talk to Arnold about getting a second mortgage on our home but told him I would give notice at work. After some arguments, I agreed to cash in my retirement account. I would invest that along with the funds in my personal savings. Arnold and I were separate as to property according to our marriage contract. I wasn’t going to put his money at risk while I endangered my marriage whoring with Albert.

Yes, I recognized that’s what it was. Thomas had plenty of wealthy people he could ask to come in with him on the IPO. He wanted me because of the “fringe benefits” (as he described them) that only I could provide his son.

The Firstens’ next suggestion was more brazen. My equally outrageous response was to accept. I lied to my family that I had to go to New York for a few days to learn about new sources of drug ingredients. I didn’t tell them that I had given two weeks’ notice at work.

The Hamptons club was next door to the Bridgehampton hotel/resort; the two played off each other’s clientele. Thomas got a two-bedroom suite, with a sitting room and kitchenette. He took the smaller bedroom for himself, leaving the king-size bed for Albert and me. I was aghast at the arrangement though in truth, I expected it. “No sex,” I told both of my johns. Thomas said that he was a great admirer of Bill Clinton.

My children were upset at my going on a business trip. Kevin especially kept on calling, till I told him that he was keeping me from my work, and I would have to stay away longer if I spent all my time on the phone with him. Thomas Firsten smirked as he listened to my side of the conversation. I was surprised and happy that I didn’t get fucked that evening. Albert wore flannel pajamas to bed; I wore a cotton nightgown. We didn’t even snuggle. Thomas came into the room with the rise in his underpants indicating what he had in mind; we both ignored him. I woke up with Albert’s hand resting on my breast, the rest of him a few respectful inches away. I smiled, stroked his chest, and gave him a good-morning kiss.

We actually worked on the IPO during the day in the hotel’s business center. A parade of financial, promotion and stock market experts provided data, analyses, and projections along with encouragement. I had crossed a line at night, but my daytime activities would make up for it. To my eyes, the prospectus looked great. My family was going to be wealthy. I was going to be wealthy. We would have it so good together, spending the money I earned by providing the Firstens with fringe benefits.

Candy Ortega joined us for a sumptuous supper and turned down Thomas’ invitation to come to the club with us. She was there to negotiate the conditions of the offering. While Thomas talked about the hot women at the club, she rolled a list of conditions off her tongue, talking about ‘a best efforts engagement,’ reimbursement, and what sounded to my untrained ear like a huge underwriting discount.

We were back in the bar that evening, chatting, dancing, losing more of our inhibitions. Thomas and then Albert had their hands all over my ass when we danced. We were at our table when my phone rang. I was startled and didn’t move fast enough to stop Albert from pressing the button to accept the call. Who was calling at one in the morning? Was something wrong at home? The caller ID said “private caller.” He passed me the phone but whoever it was had already disconnected.

The phone rang once more. First, there was a moment of silence. Then someone started speaking excitedly in a foreign language, probably Chinese. “God-dammed robocall,” I said.

Albert may have been socially awkward, but he was very aware. He knew I was no longer in the mood for clubbing. “What do you want to do?”

I glanced at the bar, where Thomas was chatting up a cute waitress. That shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. “Let’s go back to our room. I want to go to bed. Arnold or my kids might call early, and I can’t sound sleepy.”

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