Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2007 18:52:37 -0700 (PDT) From: Lacie Babenco Subject: Lesbian story - Encounters - Business Trip Part 1 of 3 The following story contains sexual scenes between two women. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law. This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author is an avatar from the world of Second Life. Additionally, the actions of the characters in this story are in no way intended to show approval of, or give sanction to, their actions. The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author. Comments and story suggestions are always welcome and you may e-mail them to: lacie_babenco@yahoo.com - Lacie Babenco may also be messaged within SL as well to discuss female erotica stories for collaboration. If you are a writer of erotica, please consider messaging Lacie for a potential SL erotica magazine in development. Business Conference Part 1 Las Vegas -- Sin City -- For some reason, and it's pretty obvious, our nation loves to hold conventions here. I'm on my way... What a trip. The flight we took was all the warning I needed to know that I was headed for a rough 5 days. Every year, we head to Vegas to `press the flesh' with an endless line of dealers. I could script the entire frickin' thing from start to finish, the first few hours, rush to the room, rush to the convention to setup. Then, get together with the supervisors I have and listen to the endless questions they decide to throw at me. Heaven forbid these people lose me, I swear, they have no idea what is going on half the time, they just have the connections that save them on a daily basis. Then, parade in every possible sort of person who is in our dealer network and give them the latest and greatest. Never mind that they are likely drunk and only thinking about the festivities later in the night. Oh, and being a woman, I get stuck because they want to look at my tits the entire time I'm talking, they want to touch me, they want to do anything but talk work. Life's grand. So, its controlled chaos, my bosses begin the trip by freaking out about the minutia they know nothing about to begin with. I try to answer the questions they have but it's nearly hopeless because it's a dance, a dance where they want to show that they care, but they really don't, they just want to know that I have the answers if it's necessary. So it all I can do to manage my senior "babies". At least, I've experienced it before so it's not a shock when the questions fly fast and furious. We're late. The fucking plane took its merry time getting out of the gate, weather slowed us and by the time we landed, we're 90 minutes late. So it's panic central the entire car ride. I should have taken a separate limo, everyone is in crack berry mode, checking messages, speaking in incomplete sentences that you need a decoder to understand anything of value. GRRRRR! We get to the hotel and check in -- and everyone wants to get to the convention. Somehow, we manage to get there and I'm dreading how this lateness will affect me -- no food -- no rest -- extra work -- "hoo-fucking-ray" I think to myself. I get 10 minutes to go to my room, only enough to see what the plane has done to my hair and business suit, ugh, flat and drab, excellent. I do my best quick tricks to revive my hair and freshen my face and suit, I'll get by but it won't be pretty. My mid 30's body is still in good shape from my crazy workout schedule that I live by. Fighting off aging is what I hope to win for at least the next few years. Fortunately, we get a ride to the convention that is fast. Finally, a break! We enter as a group and I go to our location to begin setup. One of the men in my group is great and helps me setup. I think he wants to use our time here to get in my pants but he's not my type at all. The last thing I need is an office affair, no thanks. Our fearless leaders show their true colors, finding the worst possible time to offer help and we shoo them away. They begin the smiling and handshaking as we pull out brochures, show the interactive kiosk and all the details that back our new approach to marketing online this year. I step out-front to face the sea of men who will endlessly not give a shit about what I have to say. They will listen but the entire time, they are thinking about how they can get me back to their room. I swear if their wives knew I had room keys put into my hand as often as I do, I'd rake in a finder's fee from the divorce lawyers of America. So it begins and I nearly grow numb as the day is well into being 14 hours old by dinner time. I've only had some random snacks the entire day and every ounce of my bod wants to get the hell out of there and make my way to my room for a bath and a break. Then, someone walks up to the kiosk I've never seen before in my previous 5 years at the convention. Standing in her white 4" pumps, she is a vision of beauty. Equal parts stunning and classy in her beauty; she was dressed in a tan business suit with a dangerously sheer white blouse underneath, sheer white stockings to match. She's likely in her early 40's and in tremendous shape with long legs and a fit body that is the product of great bloodlines and endless hours in the gym. It's amazing to see her because she walks with an almost force field space around her. Have you seen a woman who's so beautiful and intensely, inherently powerful that men and women alike give her space because they can sense it? That is how she moves through the crowd, the sea parts for her! She moves with liquid grace as her form steps right to me. A smile that brings the warmth of the desert right to me in this man-made oasis I can only look at her silently. She is in front of me and I can feel the spirit of her as she looks into my eyes. Her scent is exotic, perfume that is just enough to announce her presence but not overwhelming to drive anyone from her space. In what seems like an endless eternity next to her, she finally speaks to me: "Hello dear, Margaret, Communications Director for the Ardren Dealer group" she says warmly with her hand extended. Obviously a bit nervous: "L-Lacie Babenco" I stammer for a moment. "Web Strategy for Online Sales -- Corporate" We shake hands as the entire world melts away from me as I look her in the eyes. Her handshake is feminine but powerful, a woman that knows where she is going. I'm spellbound -- unsure whether she is real or some force of nature. She is the CD of one of the biggest dealer groups we work with -- powerful for sure. My superiors make their way over to us and try to introduce themselves but she gives them a look and smile that disarms them. "Look gentlemen, I am with Dan Ardren, and Lacie was just telling me about the new strategy you have for this year, be a dear and let her go from this dreadful booth." She purrs with the smile of an assassin telling a victim they have no choice but to say what she wishes. "Of course Margaret, Lacie is our best in strategy." My boss peeps out as he's unable to play his machismo in her presence. Looking down at his nametag, she smiles, saying: "Thank you -- uhm -- Reggie." Margaret takes my arm and hooks hers and we walk away from the booth I've been literally chained to all day. We walk through the convention slowly, arm in arm, two of the very few women in the entire building of thousands. Men give us space and respect that I'm not accustomed to; it's as if I live inside her force field that protects us. Margaret whispers as we walk: "This entire exercise is such a dreadful bore. We know your strategy is right on the mark, we plan on adopting it fully, just so you know. I have already talked to your bosses and think they can't possibly be smart enough to have done it themselves. So I have my suspicions that you have been a bit more important to the entire process than they let on." Her voice is velvety smooth, my senses warm as I listen to her not-so-subtle praise of all my hard work. I can barely speak as we walk: "It's been a very busy year and we all worked very hard." Leaning in and stopping me from my canned answer, Margaret leans into my ear: "Don't give me that `team' bullshit dear." I blush deeply -- she has a way of cutting it through to the bone instantly and I nod in response to her. She puts her free hand on my forearm, stroking it gently. "Now, come with" she purrs with her charming smile. I follow her like a helpless child -- turning at the end of a quieter part of the conference, she pulls me to a spot between kiosks. Suddenly, I realize we are out of sight of everyone and a heated pulse of energy courses through me suddenly. Turning me to face her, I try to speak but my lips meet hers. I protest meekly as I feel her hand on the back of my head, holding me close as we kiss. Her hand flows through my red hair as our bodies are close, but not pressing until her other hand moves to the small of my back, drawing me in. The pulse of energy courses through my entire body, not knowing where to go as I feel so many sensations at once. Giving in to her is so easy, so right and so necessary. I feel my mouth open as if she is calling to me from inside my body. Her tongue slides in and tastes me deeply. My hands tremble as they hold onto her hips, gripping tightly on her lovely form. Her soft moan, mixed with her wonderful scent and now, her amazing taste she is putting into my mouth is overwhelming. I feel my body respond to her touch as if she is in control of me. Our bodies press together tightly. We don't compete; we compliment each other as our bodies find the sense of pressure, friction and grace in our unique way. Our kiss goes on endlessly, with a world of men just a few feet away, totally unaware that we are so passionately kissing. It turns me on so much, so fast that I feel my body respond with that warm -- wet feeling beginning in me. She breaks the kiss and I feel like a hungry animal, wanting more. Breathing deeply, drinking in the erotic senses that she has stirred in me, I feel like I can sense more and feel more in her presence. It's as if all my cares in the world are being swept away by this woman, and I hardly know her at all but it feels so right. "Good girl" she smiles. I feel her hands on mine, hers so confident and mine so nervous. She does something I cannot believe, something that has happened to me before but I've never acted on. It's her room key. Her invitation. Her desire given to me in such a direct way. Men have tried this with me each year and I have said "no" in each instance. Tonight, I will say yes. End -- Part 1