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Message-ID: <30893asstr$992715004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: John3365a@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} {Jake Lucas series} RP Acquisition (MF adventure humor) {John A}
Date: Sat, 16 Jun 2001 14:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "ACQUIS.TXT" begin>

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real 
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental.  If you are below 
the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right 
now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading 
now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision 
-- and your responsibility -- not mine.

This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast, 
retransmission, and account of this game is strictly prohibited by the 
National Hockey League. Wait --The NHL doesn't care -- I care. Any 
unauthorized redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. I 
authorize the reader to make one copy for reading purposes only. I
expressly prohibit posting of this work on anyone's website, including 
but not limited to pay-sites, sites with advertising, and any type of 
site where a fee is charged. Any distribution without the author's 
permission is strictly prohibited.

DO NOT REPOST

"Acquisition" Copyright (C) 2000 by John3365A@aol.com (John A). 
All rights reserved.
--------------------


I'd love to know what you think. Positive or negative, 
I'll try to respond to everyone (except obnoxious flames).

My e-mail address is John3365a@aol.com.

************************************************************************
Author's note: This is the beginning of a series which centers around a 
new character, an incorrigable, lovable rogue by the name of Jake Lucas. 
It's going to be something along the lines of an action/adventure series 
with a fair amount of sex mixed in. If the reader response is good, I'll 
continue it. So if you'd like to read more about Jake and his adventures, 
let me know. The other two in the series "Berlin Diversion" and "Coo Coo
Ca-Choo Mrs. Robinson have also been posted. All three stories can be found
on my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/JohnA/www/  


-JA 11/24/00 6/16/01
*************************************************************************


                         Acquisition
                          by John A
                       Copyright (C) 2000
                                
  
At first it seemed as if the flight from LaGuardia to DFW would
be insufferable. The Boeing 757 was stuck on the Queens, New York
tarmac for 45 minutes while waiting in a queue of about 12 planes
waiting to take off. One of the planes apparently had some sort
of radio problem, we were informed later, which caused the big
delay. Of course the air conditioner only works at minimal levels
while the planes are on the ground, so I was hot and sweaty and
feeling miserable by the time the stewardess brought my fourth
scotch on the rocks. To top things off, there were two babies
crying back in coach. This didn't bode well for my business trip.
I had half a mind to get into the cockpit and steer this thing to
the front of the line myself. I'm getting ornery, I thought.
Maybe I shouldn't drink so much.

A fuzzy warmth spread over me as I ignored my warnings and downed
the scotch.

Fortunately, first class was almost empty and I could spread out
across both seats on my side of the aisle. In fact, other than
me, there was an elderly couple a few rows back and some greasy
looking person who had salesman or mafioso written all over him
sitting in the front row, sleeping and snoring loudly enough to
wake the dead.

I sized up the stewardess -- excuse me, flight attendant -- when
she brought me my next drink. She had a pretty face that was
framed by short, thick dark hair, and punctuated by a slightly
upturned button nose. Dark hair was always a weakness of mine.
She was probably in her early-30's and had long shapely legs and
what seemed like a nice body, although I couldn't really be sure
with that polyester iron maiden they call a uniform that she was
wearing. She also had the marks of where a wedding band had once
been. I grinned.

"Here you go sir, do you..."

I interrupted her. "Call me Jake. And thanks for the drink."

"You're welcome, Jake. But do you think you should drink so much?
We haven't even taken off."

I ignored her question with a smirk. "What's your name?" I asked
matter-of-factly.

"April. And as I was saying, do you think you should drink so
much?"

"Oh, this isn't much," I grinned." I'm just trying to pass the
time. Join me in a drink." I patted the seat next to me, grinning
up at her as I did.

"Sorry, I can't. I have the other passengers to deal with."

"Who, the old folks? They're going to be looking at pictures of
the grandkids until we touch down in Dallas. And the only thing
that guy up there is going to need is a pillow to shove over his
face to stop his snoring."

She chuckled. "Well, for another thing, I can't drink on duty."

"You're no fun. I thought the skies were supposed to be
friendly?" I said playfully.

"We're not in the sky *yet*," she grinned.

"Then I'll take that as a promise." A definite possibility, I
thought.


Twenty-three minutes later the flight finally took off, much to
my relief, since the change in cabin pressure seemed to be what
it took to stop the salesman's snoring. As we gained altitude for
the trip south, I passed the beginning of the trip going over
some notes and financial reports in preparation for my dinner
meeting later that day in Dallas. 

Almost an hour and a half after take-off, April had just finished
clearing the plates and beverages from the lunch service when she
walked by my seat again.

"We're in the sky again," I said with a grin, patting the empty
seat next to me. "Time for the friendliness to start."

"You know, I'm not supposed to be sitting down with the
passengers," she said apologetically. "If someone sees me, I
could get in trouble."

"Is there any other stewa...uh, flight attendant working in first
class today?"

"No, but..."

"Listen, my firm spends hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not
millions, on air travel a year. If anyone says anything to you,
I'm sure Delta or United would love to have our business. Don't
worry about anything, I'll handle it. I can be a troubleshooter
when I need to be."

Her eyes sparkled widely and sat down. "So, Jake, was it? Do you
live in Dallas or New York."

"New York. Well, really Connecticut, I just work in the city. I'm
heading down to meet with a client in Dallas. How about you?"

"Neither. Actually Chicago. This isn't usually my run, but I'm
doing it as a favor. My normal run is New York-Chicago." She
looked over at my papers and asked, "So what is it that you do?"

"I'm an investment banker with Tate-Reynolds. I'm meeting with an
owner of an independent oil drilling company. They own about 20
rigs in the gulf and one of the big boys wants to buy them out."

"Big boys? You mean like a big oil company like Mobil or Texaco
or a bunch of high school seniors who've saved up their lunch
money?" she teased.

"Neither. Big boys, you know...male porn stars," I parried and
she raised her eyebrows before muffling a laugh. 

"Yes, a major oil company," I said more seriously.

"Sounds interesting...exciting even. What company is it?" she
asked innocuously.

"Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," I
smiled. "I really can't tell, though...."

April pouted slightly.

"Sorry. I operate under strict non-disclosure agreements."

"Oh, I see. It almost sounds spylike."

I chuckled. "Other than the fact that I'm afraid of guns and I'm
not all to keen on life or death situations.... Maybe I should
start drinking vodka martinis."

"I think you've already had quite enough to drink," she giggled
and touched my left arm slightly with the fingertips of her right
hand.

"I noticed no ring on your finger, April. Is that a permanent
situation or do you just take it off for the flights?"

"Why do you ask?" she said too sweetly, running her thumb over
her unadorned left ring finger.

"Just curious. I'm just a curious guy.... You have beautiful
hair," I changed the subject, the alcohol kicking my normally
overactive flirt gene into overdrive.

"You think so? Why do you say that?"

I took the opportunity to run the tips of my fingers through her
dark silky hair. "Do you always like to answer a question with
another question?"

"Do I do that?" she smirked coyly.

"You know, I really think I'd like to kiss you." I inched closer
to her, again sliding my hand over her thick hair. I was
definitely attracted to this woman. There was something
intoxicating about the way she managed to parry my every thrust.

"And what makes you think I'd let you?" she said almost huskily.

"I don't remember asking permission." I leaned in and pressed my
lips into April's. She opened her mouth and hesitantly sought out
my tongue with her own.

April broke the kiss after a minute or so to take a peek around
the cabin. The couple behind us was so engrossed in their
personal TV monitors that they wouldn't have noticed if the guy
in the front row started dancing the kazatsky naked in the middle
of the aisle. He, of course, was still fast asleep, the somewhat
more subdued snores still breaking the cabin's relative silence.

"Where was I?" She looked back over at me and we resumed our
kiss. I took the opportunity to place my hand inside her blazer
and fondle what turned out to be a nicely sized breast. These
uniforms they wear set the women's movement back thirty years.
She moaned her approval so I took the encouragement to press my
advantage. I lifted her up and sat her on my lap. 

She giggled slightly as she felt my arousal through my slacks and
her skirt. Wiggling ever so subtly, she increased the friction on
my cock as my hand found its way up her skirt. Pushing my hand
past a thigh-high stocking I slid aside the crotch to her panties
and my hand found her vulva moist and waiting.

"Mmmm," she moaned into my mouth as I rubbed her hot sex with my
right hand. 

My left hand fumbled with the top couple of buttons of her blouse
before the seat belt light flashed and a tone buzzed three times.

"Uh oh, the captain wants us to do a flight check. We must be
heading into turbulence. I'm going to have to go now," she said
apologetically, smoothing her skirt and buttoning up her blouse.

"What about *my* turbulence?"

She patted my erect cock through my trousers and smiled. "Can't
do anything about that now."


April was busy in coach for the remainder of the flight.
Eventually my erection eased and I was able to get more
preparation done for my meeting. It was obvious that nothing else
was going to happen to me with April on this flight so I used the
in-seat phone to have some files transferred from my office and
threw myself in my work. If I could get the last few things I
needed to do accomplished, I could grab a quick nap at my hotel
before my presentation. I hated to have to meet with a client
when I wasn't fully rested.

I closed up my laptop computer when the captain made his pre-landing 
announcement and returned my seat to the upright and
locked position. The landing was as smooth as a baby's backside
and I quickly grabbed my briefcase and carry-on before most of
the hordes from coach rushed forward to choke up the aisle.

I was about seventh in line, which wasn't that bad considering
there were about 190 people on the flight. As I passed by the
flight attendants and co-pilot, who were lavishing their "Bu-byes" 
on the passengers upon their exit, April very casually and
discreetly slipped a note into my hand. Her dark eyes sparkled
and she smiled broadly at me before turning her attention to some
of the other passengers.

I waited until I was past the ramp walkway before looking at it.
It listed the name of the hotel she was staying at and her cell
phone number. It also read, "Call Me!!" It didn't seem like a
request. I shoved the note into my coat pocket, grinning as I
walked through the main terminal.

Dallas was always hot in August, and seemed like hell's boiler
room today. That wouldn't have been so bad except that before
heading to the hotel, I had an errand to complete. It was
something that really couldn't be put off, either. 

It was just after two pm when I entered my room, sweaty and
sticky and in desperate need of a drink, and saw the message
light flash on the telephone. I retrieved the two messages and
returned the calls: the first one to my secretary, who was triple
checking to make sure I had everything I needed for tonight's
meeting; and the other to an automated call station routed
through Grand Forks, North Dakota to which I pressed a series of
fourteen numbers and hung up without saying a word. 

Glad to get that out of the way, I settled down to take a nap,
trying to rest before my 7 o'clock dinner meeting with Mr. Arthur
Mudge III, Chairman and CEO of Mudge and Company Drilling.

I lay down and tried to sleep but I was tired and bored and
nervous and horny all wrapped up into one. Being with April on
the plane and doing nothing about it set my libido on overdrive
and made me all jumpy, like a restless cat. As I finally started
drifting to sleep, my last thoughts were of my desperate hopes
that our waitress was some old cow of a battleaxe so I wouldn't
get the least bit aroused during the meeting.

The alarm buzzed at five and I woke with a start, taking a few
seconds to acclimate myself to my surroundings. Tuesday, I
thought, it must be Dallas. All this travel was an occupational
hazard of the job and generally one royal pain in the ass. I
think I spent more time in hotel rooms than I did back in my own
home in Southport.

I jumped up and showered, shaved, and shit before going through
all of the papers for this meeting. Why I ever agreed to a
meeting this way, one on one -- mano a mano as Mudge suggested --
was beyond me. I relied on my 'team'. We'd been together as a
unit for that past seven years and every deal went like clockwork
-- even the Gorham manufacturing deal when old man Gorham up and
had himself a little stroke right in the middle of the merger
signing. My group of number-crunchers and lawyers kept everything
going smoothly. Sure, I was the point man, the guy who got the
deals done, but they were the guts of the operation, making sure
that we maximized the value of the deal for our clients and that
we left no legal stone unturned.

But Mudge wanted it different. Of course he did. He was a big,
brash Texan as loud as the widest tie and twice as obnoxious. I
suffered him because this deal was going to be worth a cool $75
million in fees to the company and $1.5 million in bonuses to me
specifically. If he wanted to have the meeting in the fucking
sauna, for one and a half mil, I'd do it. After all, I had ex-wives 
to support.

What he wanted was to eliminate the 'yes men' as he referred to
them. He'd have no representatives and I'd have none. He didn't
even have an investment banker representing his company. It was
no surprise he'd run his company into the ground, doing things
the way he did. Man to man, he said, just like they did it in the
old west.

I had to hide my laughter when he suggested that. Arthur Mudge
had no more idea of how things were done in the old west than I
did. His grandfather started the business and his father made it
into what it was today. Arthur, meanwhile, lived a sheltered
existence in the northeast's most exclusive private schools
before getting his degree in 'spending daddy's money' at Brown.
Then ten years ago, when he was of 35, his father died and left
him a $2.4 billion dollar oil drilling company. Now he was
selling that company whose value, which through mismanagement or
monumentally bad luck, he only managed to increase to two and a
half billion.

Biggest goddamn economic expansion in the history of the nation
and the stupid bastard managed to increase the value of his
company less than 5% in ten years while most of the companies in
his business had doubled or tripled their capitalization in the
same time span. He could have made more money selling the thing
back in 1990 and putting the money into a fucking passbook
account.

But there are three things I've learned in investment banking.
The deal doesn't get done unless the clients are happy, you laugh
at their jokes, and you let them win at golf. He wanted this mano
a mano meeting to make him happy, so I agreed.

I took my suit out of the garment bag while listening to the
local news on the television in the background. There was
something about a local man who was killed outside an estate in
suburban Dallas. Apparently there were rumors that he was
involved in drug smuggling and had been under investigation by
the FBI and DEA for several years. Serves him right, I chuckled
to myself as I finished dressing.


I arrived downstairs in the hotel's dining room shortly before
seven, panning the room to look for my guest. The Maitre d'hotel
told me that Mudge hadn't arrived yet and I slipped him a twenty
to get me in the lounge when he arrived. 

"You got a score," I said to the bartender, nodding my head up at
the Rangers' game on the television.

"Orioles lead 1-0 in the bottom of the second. Get you something
to drink?"

"Yeah. Scotch, rocks. Thanks. Some of that Johnnie Walker Black
looks good."

I watched the game, nursing my drink for the next several minutes
when my pager chirped it's annoying little tone. My office in
Manhattan calling. 

"Got a phone I can use?" I interrupted the bartender from his
flirting with a cocktail waitress.

"What's that?" he said aggravatedly, watching the waitress walk
away from the bar.
"Do you have a phone I can use?"

"Over there, near the restrooms."

I dialed my office number and my secretary told me that they'd
just gotten a call from Mudge's office, informing them that he
was tied up in a meeting and wouldn't be getting there for at
least another hour and a half.

"Shit!" I said to nobody in particular as I hung up the phone.
What the fuck was I going to do until -- I looked at my watch --
until at least 8:30?

I returned to the bar and sitting in the seat next to mine was a
stunning woman. Soft blonde hair -- although probably not her
real color -- cascaded off her shoulders. The low scoop neck of
her designer dress gave more than a hint of cleavage. I was
instantly aroused.

She smiled curtly, looking forward again as I sat and finished my
drink.

"Hey, sport," I motioned to the bartender and pointed to my
glass. "Another one. Thanks."

The drink came and I stared at the woman next to me slowly,
making sure that she knew I was interested. Of course, what man
in that place wasn't interested in her?
 
I wondered if she was a hooker, but the hardware she was wearing
was much more than a hooker -- even the high price variety --
could afford. Real pearls draped her neck, and enough diamonds to
close down a South African mine hung from her earlobes. She also
had on a wedding ring the size of a charcoal briquette. No, she
was no hooker. She was definitely high class.

"Do you have a light?" A cigarette appeared out of nowhere and
she angled it toward me, the diamond and emerald bracelet on her
wrist sparkling under the lights of the bar. Smoking never did it
for me and I generally made it a rule not to get involve with
smokers but she was different. She used a cigarette as a tool, a
prop, and she used one better than anyone I'd ever seen.

"Sorry, they recommend that I stay away from open flames."

She smiled condescendingly and suffered my humor as the bartender
waved a lit match in front of her face.

"Can I buy you a drink?" I offered.

"I don't see the harm in a little drink."

"That's what I've always said."

The bartender brought her another Captain Morgan and Coke and she
smiled as she took her first sip.

"Nice suit," she said, matter-of-factly fingering the lapel of my
jacket and examining the stitching. This was definitely getting
interesting. "Mr. Liu in Hong Kong?"

"Steed. Saville Row," I corrected, mentioning the tailor on the
famous London thoroughfare where I had many of my suits custom
tailored. However, she did know her clothes. Several of my suits
had been designed by Mr. Liu. I, of course, knew nothing about
women's fashions to parry with. Maybe if I would pay as much
attention to women when they're dressed as I do when they're
naked I wouldn't be twice divorced. Then again, probably not.

"Awfully well dressed to be spending the night in a bar," she
stated plainly, twirling the straw in her drink teasingly.

I chuckled as I pounded down my second scotch of the night.
Either she was an expert at playing games, or she was definitely
interested. Probably both, I thought, as I looked her over.

"The same could be said for you," I countered. This woman was
definitely having an effect on me. I tried to tell myself that I
had a business meeting in a little over an hour, but sometimes
the wrong head commandeers the thought processes.

"Well, I'm waiting for someone," she sighed and for the first
time I noticed a chink in this woman's platinum armor. "It seems
like I'm always waiting."

"Me too. Business meeting. A guest is going to be quite late in
arriving."

"What is it that you do?" she asked, waiving her cigarette
imperiously.

"What would you want me to do?"

She laughed -- genuine this time; not the polite, guarded
reactions of earlier -- and placed her right hand on top of my
left. 

"That's a very tempting question. Are you staying here in the
hotel?" She didn't mince words. This was a woman who definitely
knew what she wanted.

I stood, not allowing her to change her mind and held out my hand
for her.


We rode the elevator hand in hand, but did nothing more before
entering the room. She placed her purse on the table and started
removing her clothes carefully, hanging the dress on the rod and
removing her pantyhose slowly trying not to get a run in them. 

"I'll just freak if I ruin my dress." I was captivated by the
slow drawn out way the word 'freak' rolled off her tongue. These
southern woman certainly could put an arousing spin on just about
everything they said.

I took her cue and started undressing myself. I also undressed
methodically, not wanting to do anything to ruin my suit; it was
the only one I'd brought to Dallas with me and I still needed to
wear it to try to cement a $2.5 billion deal.

There was something very dispassionate, almost formal, about our
proceedings. We were two people looking for a good time and that
was it. It was going to be a civilized fuck -- no pretensions, no
false hopes, no misunderstood actions. I liked that.


She finished before me and lay seductively on the bed, her left
leg crooked at the knee. Her nipples were puckered in the chill
of the air-conditioned hotel room as I slid next to her taking
one into my mouth.

"Mmmm," she moaned through her nose scratching the back of my
head with her pink fingernails.

I abandoned her left nipple to suckle her right while I brought a
hand down to her brown-furred pussy. She was dry, but moistened
slightly at my touch.

"Lick my pussy," she ordered. It really wasn't a request. I liked
her. She knew what she wanted and went after it. *So* much easier
than those women who expect you to be able to read their minds.

I opened her labia wide as I kissed and licked in and around its
thickening folds. Her juices started flowing as my tongue darted
from her inner lips to her clit. Over and around the hooded pearl
I licked as it enlarged to the point where I could suck it
between my lips.

"My clit. Lick my clit.... Oh God, that feels so good," she
panted out, forcing my head even closer to her pussy, if that was
possible.

I changed my angle of attack and inserted my index finger into
her sex, eliciting another moan. I licked and sucked on her cunt,
fucking her with my finger until she started to pant out in
orgasm.

"Come up here," she growled and I complied, my erection bobbing
about as I crawled up the bed. "I want to feel you inside me."

She spread her legs as I positioned my cock over her opening. Her
pussy swallowed it whole, gripping it tightly within her warmth.

"Fuck," I grunted as I rocked back and forth, slowly tickling the
depths of the blonde beauty. This was when I first noticed her
eyes -- gold, like the color of autumn leaves, and a singularly
unique shade for this singularly unique individual.

I started thinking about what kind of a man lets a pearl like
this stray -- I was obviously not the first -- but before I could
put too much mental energy into it she smiled lasciviously and
yanked my head down for a kiss.  Wrapping her lips around my
tongue, she mimicked the grip her cunt had on my prick and I
thought I was going to lose it. This girl -- no, woman; there was
nothing girlish about her -- could fuck.

Her painted fingertips tore deep scratches in my back and I
started to fuck her in earnest, furiously pistoning myself into
her pussy while I suckled roughly on a nipple.

She moaned and panted, breathing rapidly as she came again,
clawing even more savagely at my back. My own release was near
and I hooked my thumbs behind her knees , pushing her thighs back
even farther and pumping like a madman until I exploded deep
within her.

She grabbed her purse and stepped into the bathroom to clean
herself up a bit as I began dressing in the bedroom. I looked at
the clock and noticed that I'd been up in the room for over an
hour and needed to hurry to get back to the dining room.

"Leaving already," she said, striking a glorious pose as she
stepped out of the bathroom, naked as the day she was born. She
feigned a pout, but subtle just wasn't in this woman's
vocabulary.

"Sorry, doll. Got a meeting I can't miss. Feel free to stick
around though," I winked.

"No, thanks. I have to go also," she laughed lightly. If it were
anyone else I would have said she giggled, but giggling just
didn't seem to fit her personality.

"Suit yourself," I walked over and kissed her full on the lips
before picking up my briefcase and heading for the door.

"Say," I turned just as I was out the door. "I never caught your
name."

"I never threw it."

I shut the door behind me and headed to the elevator. It was
probably best that we didn't exchange names. Nice and clear cut
that way. No strings attached.



I entered the dining room and the Maitre d'hotel showed me to the
table where Mudge was already seated. Damn. I hated being last at
a meeting.

"Mr. Mudge, sorry I'm late. I was...busy with someone. Hope you
haven't been waiting long."

"Hell no," he drawled slowly. "I just got here myself. Sit down
Jake and show me what you got."

The waiter took my order for a double scotch as I was getting
some papers out of my briefcase while Mudge took a sip of his
wine. He was an interesting looking sort. Short and stocky he had
the body of a middle linebacker with a prematurely balding head.
Actually he looked like a cantaloupe with bushy eyebrows, one of
those refugees from the old Soviet Politburo.

We went through the preliminaries of company valuation and
corporate assets, Mudge looking on diligently, but vacuously. It
was obvious to me at that point why his company was so poorly
managed. This man had no business sense at all. This was going to
be a slam dunk. Royal Dutch Petroleum originally stated that they
would go up to $2.75 billion in cash and stock, even though we
felt that $2.61 billion was fair value for the company. But if
this guy was as dull as he seemed, they might even get the
company at a discount. 

"Oh, Jake," he interrupted, as he looked past me and stood. I
pushed my chair out and began to stand. "Let me introduce you to
my wife."

My mouth almost hit the floor. Walking toward us was the leggy,
classy blonde I'd recently spent the past hour or so with.

"Jessica, this is Jake Lucas. Jake, Jessica."

"Pleased to meet you. Jake, is it," she smirked as I shook her
hand weakly, too much in shock to know how to react.

This wasn't happening. What the fuck was going on? Was this a set
up? Is this how Mudge operated -- prostituting his wife to get a
better deal? Or was this even his wife? Or was she just a hooker
that he used to get the upper hand in business deals. And if this
was his wife, how could a bowling ball like Mudge get an absolute
knockout like Jessica -- a good ten years his junior?  I knew
then that my mind was in partial shut-down mode -- he got her
because he was worth two and a half billion -- with a "B" --
dollars.

We sat and I quickly downed my drink, trying to force some
rational thought into my mind. Maybe this was all a big
coincidence. I could see where a woman like Jessica might have an
affair or two. Maybe he was blissfully unaware of what just
happened. The question before me then was, how do I use this to
my advantage?

Of course, overwhelmed by the situation, my answer was, I have no
fucking clue.

I muddled through the presentation, uncharacteristically nervous
and unsure, amateurishly going over countless pages of financial
data with Mudge looking on closely and Jessica only paying
cursory attention. She was spending most of her time running her
stocking foot up and down my calf, making it difficult for me to
concentrate. Fortunately, Mudge was as dull as the paint on an
old car, and a third grader could have made this presentation to
him.

"So why on Earth would I want to take Royal Dutch stock instead
of cash?" he asked, scratching his smooth pink head, after
several more minutes of going through the financial details.
Jessica merely smiled and ran her foot up to my thigh. 

"Well," I explained, trying to ignore Jessica's toes tickling my
crotch. "With this deal you'll get about 40 million shares of RD.
If you had sold the company ten years ago, your Royal Dutch 
holdings would be roughly worth ten billion. Not to mention the
50 million dollars or so in dividends you could have earned every
year just from sitting on it. Take it from me, Mr. Mudge. This is
a great deal for you."

Then I leaned forward, feeling my old composure coming back. "You
know, competition is fierce out there. And if your company can't
compete in the current economic landscape, I can't guarantee that
a deal like this will come along again."

Mudge, clearly over his head, gulped audibly and looked at
Jessica for some sort of counsel. She smiled briefly but bent her
head to take another bite of her fish. There was no one making
this decision for him but himself. No daddy, no grand dad, no
wife to come along and rescue poor Arthur from his
responsibilities.

This was the part of my job that I loved. Put up or shut up. As
exhilarating as a great fuck, I thought and darted my eyes
briefly toward Jessica. 

I stared into the eyes of the sweating man.

Mudge swallowed his wine in one gulp, a nervous reaction that
didn't give him any more insight than he had a second earlier.
Even Jessica looked on intently, much as someone watches an
accident on the side of the highway.

"Deal," Mudge exhaled a deep breath and extended his hand across
the table.

Bingo, I screamed inwardly. I merely smiled politely to Mudge and
took his hand firmly.

"I think you'll be very pleased with this deal Mr. Mudge, Mrs.
Mudge. Of course all the lawyers will have to get together and
write out the agreement, but I think most of the specifics are
behind us. If you'd like, we can schedule a press conference for
sometime early next week."

Mudge smiled weakly, spent from the negotiation, apparently
overwhelmed by business that was over his head. "That's fine.
Just talk to my assistant with any of those details."

We finished our meals and drinks before I took my leave of the
Mudges. As I was leaving, I blew a kiss to Jessica when Arthur's
head was turned away. She...well, I guess she giggled.

As Mudge and Jessica left the restaurant I glanced at my watch.
It was 10:45. I must be getting better, I thought. I managed to
fuck both Jessica and her husband in under four hours. 

The final price was $2.55 billion, all in stock -- $60 million
less than the company was worth and a full $200 million less than
what RD was willing to pay for it. Mudge was happy that he no
longer would have a job he had to know he was woefully
unqualified for and Royal Dutch was going to be overjoyed and
their end of the deal and might very well owe me a favor in the
future. My firm would be glad that the deal got done so smoothly
and quickly. I was ready to celebrate.

I knew that sure as hell I wasn't going to see Jessica again and
that was too bad. She was certainly classy and damn easy on the
eyes. Can't win 'em all, I sighed. Then I remembered April from
earlier in the day and searched my pockets for her number.

But that's a story for another day.


END


Look for Jake's next adventure, "Coo Coo Ca-choo Mrs. Robinson" 
apearing now in ASSM and ASS

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Copyright (C) 2000 John3365A@aol.com (John A). 
All rights reserved.



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