Ned and Camille Ch. 01

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Alice Chater

Chapter 1 – … Go to the Fundraiser

It was always awkward coming to events like this. Yeah, I was a VP at Megadyne, but I didn’t start with a silver spoon in my mouth like most of the people here. I started in the mailroom, twenty years ago, and slowly managed to climb my way up through a combination of hard work and lucky breaks. My colleagues, like most of the others in attendance, were the products of Harvard, Yale, and Princeton; ended their signatures with alphabet soup honorifics; and were about as at home in the black-tie tuxedos and evening gowns that were the dress code for this evening as I was out of place.

“Ned, I’d like to introduce you to some people.” Bob grabbed my arm and started directing through the quietly yammering crowd before I had a chance to politely decline. Bob, or Robert McVoy III if I was introducing him to a new client, is my boss, a good guy probably set for life between his corner office, trophy wife, and golden parachute. He’s also got a well-earned reputation as a grabber. Me? By the arm. Women? By other, more sensitive areas. He also had a reputation for not taking no for an answer and tonight seemed like it was no exception in my case. I stopped minding so much as the target of our march started to become apparent. Bob let go of my arm to bow briefly and then reach out to shake the hand of a well-dressed Asian man, I would have guessed Korean if you made me take a bet, flanked by two almost equally stunning Asian women.

“Mister Yan, this is my vice-president of research and development, Ned. Ned, this is Mister Yan, Sole Owner of Studio K Fashions.”

I bowed politely before reaching out to shake Mister Yan’s hand with both of mine, thanking my stars for having some guess at etiquette from my martial arts training. I thought I noticed a small hint of a genuine smile on Mister Yan’s lips as he returned the gesture, before introducing the two women to either side of himself.

“My wife, Jennifer,” to his right. She smiled demurely and offered a little nod. “My daughter, Camille.” I turned as he motioned to his left and then, probably for too long based on the blush that rose to her cheeks, stared. Camille was gorgeous with perfectly manicured black hair that waved slightly down to where it rested on her shoulders. She was dressed impeccably, her bright blue gown hugging her curves in all the right places, and she seemed to glow with an internal radiance that lit up the room. She nodded to hide the redness that was creeping into her cheeks. She closed her hazel eyes that I thought I had seen a glimmer of interest in as I was drawn back to the conversation that had started between Bob and Mister Yan by the discreet clearing of Mrs. Yan’s throat. Less discreet was the narrowed gaze that Mrs. Yan now leveled upon me until I was clearly paying attention to the business discussion that had begun instead of her daughter.

Bob was speaking, “.. that is why, Mister Yan, I believe this is an excellent opportunity for synergy between Megadyne’s advanced robotics and Studio K’s innovative style and revolutionary designs. Wouldn’t you agree, Ned?”

I swear Mrs. Yan smirked as I blinked and tried to quickly process whatever I had clearly missed. “Absolutely, Mister McVoy. A closer relationship between our R&D department and Studio K’s design team could absolutely shatter the status quo in the mobile device, home theatre, and personal entertainment markets.” Thank god, it struck me where I recognized Camille Yan from. She was the face of Studio K’s Advanced Design Team and the subject of a recent article on the merger of fashion and electronics that Bob had insisted I read last week. Now seemed like a bad time to admit that I had only read the article for the pictures, but the captions of those photos might be enough to save me. I prayed.

“We shall see, Mister McVoy. Studio K has many suitors, as you can see.” Mister Yan gestured towards the rest of the crowded room. “If things go well tonight, perhaps we will arrange for further discussion. For now, please, join us. It is time for the entertainment to begin.”

The crowd shifted away from the hors d’oeuvres towards the tables that had been set up for the evening’s entertainment. Clearly things had gone well enough during the discussions before we arrived tonight that Mr. Yan directed us to where we would be seated with him at a semi-circular table at the front, facing the stage. He directed Bob to one end to sit next to him, positioned his wife, then daughter to the other side of him. That left me in the only other available seat, next to Camille. I wasn’t going to complain.

As we settled in, I tried to make some polite small talk, “Camille, wasn’t it?”

“Miss Yan,” came the reply from her mother beside her.

Camille blushed more furiously than she had previously before smiling and responding herself, “Mother, please. It seems that we will be working together soon enough. Camille is fine, Mister…? I don’t believe Mister McVoy gave your halkalı escort given name?”

“Ned is fine, thank you Camille. As you said, it seems we’ll be working together soon enough.” I winked. I probably shouldn’t have, but I’m just a constant flirt.

She laughed quietly. It was like the tinkling of bells. “Maybe? But I cannot email, [email protected], Ned.” Her voice lowered as she leaned a bit closer and added in a whisper, “However appropriate that title might be.”

Now it was my turn to blush a little. I felt a sudden stirring in my groin and had to shift in my seat. Fortunately, I was saved by the emcee tapping on her microphone to begin the evening’s festivities.

“Welcome everyone to the annual Feed the Need Fundraiser being held by Studio K’s Community Outreach Program. As many of you know, the Yan Family and all of Studio K believes in reaching out to the …” she continued on, but I suddenly completely lost what she was saying on account of the fact that there was a hand, a dainty, fine-fingered hand, on my thigh. Apparently, Camille took her community outreach as a personal mission as well as a company mission. My cock jumped in response and I furrowed my brow trying to fight the urge to jump out of my skin. I managed, just barely, and looked aside to Camille. She was sitting still as a statue looking for all the world like she had her hands in her lap, except the one rubbing my thigh right now, and diligently listening to the emcee say, something. What was she saying?

“That is why every year Mister Yan gathers all of Studio K’s partners together for a night of fundraising. We will have the rest of the year to consider bottom lines and business arrangements. Tonight. Mister Yan and Studio K encourage you to strengthen the bonds with each other and with our community…”

The hand on my leg was relentlessly sliding upwards and as it went my cock was doing its level best to snake along the leg of my boxers to meet it. Camille squeezed high enough on my thigh that I thought she might feel it when the emcee mentioned strengthening bonds. I cleared my throat and shifted my leg as much as I thought I could and still be discrete. It got Camille’s attention, just enough that she smiled at me and then went back to listening. My god, that smile. I felt my cock twitch in my pants again if she didn’t feel it before, the slight turn of her lip into a grin told me she did that time. I was beginning to feel more than a little warm despite the air conditioning chilling the hall. I reached for my glass of water. That was a mistake. I had to lean forward to get it and the hand that had been on my thigh took the opportunity to jump higher and grab hold of my cock through my pants. I coughed. Everyone at the table looked over and I must have turned a couple of shades darker because Bob asked if I was alright. I couldn’t speak right that moment for fear I might squeak. I settled for a quick nod and swallowed down half the glass of water. Mercifully, the hand on my pants saw fit to stay put for the time being.

The emcee was wrapping up her delivery, “..without further adieu, I give you Miss Camille Yan to explain how tonight’s event works.” The hand on my achingly hard cock squeezed. I held my breath as I felt a first trickle of precum dampen my boxers. Then she was standing up and stepping around behind me to gracefully ascend the stage, looking for all the world like an innocent angel. An innocent angel that no one else would guess had been damn near making me cum in my pants. She knew though. She looked at me and brought her hand, that hand, up to her lips and licked her fingers before turning the page of the presentation notes in front of her.

I honestly can’t tell you a thing she said beyond, “Welcome honored guests.” I was lost in the music of her voice and seriously trying to think of my grandmother, the score of the last ball game, who I owed follow-ups to at work tomorrow, anything to get my still rigid cock to subside enough so that I could think about something other than how wonderful that hand had felt on my… dammit. I was not helping myself here. And every time I thought I had managed to put the thought out of my head? She’d lick her damn fingers again and turn the page of her presentation. Who the fuck even uses written notes for a presentation anymore. She was making me crazy and she hadn’t even done anything but touch my leg!

“So. Each organization will use the devices graciously donated to tonight’s event by Megadyne to bid on the contest that their representatives will compete in. All donations will go to the Feed the Need foundation, with the donation being made in the name or names of the organizations that win each competition. Bid like you’re trying to impress my father, because? You are.” With that Camille stepped back from the podium to polite applause. The applause died out by the time she returned to our table, replaced by the collective murmur of other taksim escort tables discussing their bids and their choices of events. As she settled into her seat beside me, she gave that same smile, again. Any hope for controlling where the flow of blood was going in my body vanished with its appearance. “How did I do?” she asked me.

I managed to not croak, defensively dropping my hands into my own lap, “You’re certainly going to be a hard act to follow, Miss Yan.”

“Camille,” she corrected, “Mister Isfine.”

“Camille,” I relented. “All the same, I’m glad I don’t have to get up there after you.”

That damn smile again. “Oh? I bet you’re glad you don’t have to get up there at all just now.” She winked. This angel had some horns! I looked past her to where Bob and Mister and Missus Yan were discussing the results coming in across the bidding application. I was relieved and dismayed when they nodded and agreed. Apparently, the bids were in.

I finally got a bit of a break as the challenges began. In keeping with the theme of “Feed the Need” they were all food related. Representatives from a couple of startups I didn’t recognize were involved in a challenge to bob for apples when my respite was interrupted. Camille’s hand landed softly on mine, still defending my lap. I felt like my skin was on fire for how cold her hand felt atop mine. Then she whispered in my ear and I was right back to square one all over again.

“I wonder if Miss Rennington there thought about the consequences of the outfit she was wearing when she bid?” she cooed.

I looked back to the stage where a woman, I presumed Miss Rennington, was about to take her turn bobbing for apples. The statuesque blonde wore a white satin halter gown that clung to her like a second skin. It was held up by a pair of spaghetti straps that disappeared into her platinum curls to tie behind her neck. She placed her hands on the edge of the aquarium-like tank waiting for the signal to begin. It seemed to me that if she was careful she might need to touch up her hair, but with the side of the tank for support, she should be safe enough. Camille used her free hand to thumb tap something into her cellphone and chuckled. I wondered what she was up to for a moment, before her hand still on my own started to rub lightly against my skin. I looked down and then back up as the official on the stage, told Miss Rennington to wait and then leaned closer to explain something I couldn’t hear. The blonde’s eyes widened a bit as she looked towards our table, then back to the official and slowly nodded in agreement. Taking in a deep breath that filled her lungs and caused her full breasts to push against the satin confines of her dress, Miss Rennington lifted her hands up off the edge of the tank and placed them behind her back. The officiant held up his timer and blew his whistle. Miss Rennington hesitated. The crowd grew louder urging her on. Camille’s hand squeezed against mine as she leaned close again.

“I designed that dress she’s wearing. Watch this.”

Watch what, I wondered? But I wasn’t left to wonder what for long. Miss Rennington bent at the waist and started trying to capture an apple inside the tank. Time was ticking away and she was having not much luck. It’ll give you an idea of what was on the line in these seemingly juvenile games that were being played that with twenty seconds left to complete the challenge the carefully made up Miss Rennington stuffed her entire head and shoulders into the tank to try and capture an apple against the side of the tank. As the crowd chanted down, “5!… 4!… 3!… ” she finally yanked her head out of the water, platinum curls plastered straight to her head, one fake eyelash dangling from where the glue had failed, and the treasured apple clutched in her teeth. I don’t think anyone except maybe the official noticed the apple. When Miss Rennington pulled her head out of the tank the resulting splash of water ran down the front of her gown and the already clingy sheath that left little to the imagination might as well have melted off her. The crowd’s countdown of “One!” turned into a collective “Oh!!” as Miss Rennington pulled the apple from her mouth and began to bounce in jubilation. Camille smiled next to me, a quiet laugh sounding as her hand began to try and burrow it’s way through my hands on my lap. I looked at my hands, her hand, then up and over at her. I felt another jolt. Camille’s gown showed two clear bumps where her nipples were pushing against her own gown almost as much as the now soggy Miss Rennington was displaying on stage.

“Camille?” I asked, hoping that would be enough to convey the clear question of, “what are you doing with your hand in my lap?” without having to ask it in whole.

“Yes, Ned?” she replied? Not at all stopping her efforts at pushing my hands out of the way. Her other hand was busy in her cell phone again.

“Your…”

I was cut-off when Camille shushed me as the emcee’s şişli escort voice boomed out again. “And our final event of the night!” the emcee announced. Had time really flown by so fast? I guess time flies when you have a devil beside you distracting you with a near non-stop erection. “You have all made your bids for the finale, so without further adieu, Studio K’s own Miss Camille Yan and joining her from Megadyne, Mister Ned… Isfine?” Camille chuckled as I struggled to sort out who this Isfine guy was when Camille used her hand in my lap to grab both my hands as she started to rise. Holy shit! She was going to drag me up on the stage with a fucking raging hard-on. Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! I barely had time to adjust the thing to not just poking out like a damn dowsing rod before I had to rise with her. I don’t know if the crowd noticed, god how could they not? But I sure felt like my face was on fire as we stepped up onto the stage and behind a counter that had been rolled out. Thank god for small miracles. It seemed I would have some cover at least. The counter was a little more than waist high on me, just below the swell of Camille’s breasts I noticed and covered with a few black tablecloths. Some obviously to cover the counter below, but another was draped over to conceal … what? I wondered. A third and fourth were hanging from coat racks attached at either end of the counter, another mystery. I supposed I would find out what I was in for before long.

The emcee continued once we were in place, “And their opponents for this challenge, co-chairs of the Desert Outfitter Board of Directors Mister and Missus Dida” Two rather average looking individuals, in matching pant suits of brownish red made their way up towards the stage to a smattering of applause from the crowd. The difference in their reception from the crowd was almost noticeable. I looked to Camille to ask why, but she spoke before I could.”

“Desert Outfitters has been using their relationship with Studio K to steal our designs for years. If they win this challenge, their contract with Studio K will continue until next year. If they lose, we’ll need a new design partner, Ned. I hope you’re… up for the challenge.” She glanced right down at the tent she’d cultivated in my suit pants. Jesus. My company’s partnership was hinged on whether or not I could win this contest and I could barely think straight about anything other than how fucking beautiful my partner was and how blue my balls were going to be by the end of the night.

I was drawn back to the matter at hand by the sound of the emcee’s voice. “The last challenge is Name That Food. One of you will be feeding the other food. The one tasting the food will be blindfolded. First one to ten right wins. Get three wrong? And you lose. Ladies, your blindfolds.”

Camille turned as the official brought her blindfold over and lifted up on her tiptoes to quickly plant a kiss on my startled lips. “For luck,” she said. The crowd ooooh’d like a bunch of adolescents, my cock leaked another trickle of precum. I was thankful I didn’t have to tie the blindfold, my hands would have been shaking enough that I might have dropped the damn thing.

“And the next part, to make it just a bit more challenging and make sure our gentlemen don’t try to cheat either!” The mysterious black tablecloths from the coat racks were lifted up to reveal that each one had three distinct holes in them. One larger hole in the center and two slightly smaller holes to each side. The officials moved to the women and draped the cloths over them like enormous mumus, heads going through the largest, central hole. I failed to see how this was going to make this any more challenging. “Gentlemen, step up behind your partners and place your arms through the holes.” I was a bit confused, but understood once the official lifted the cloth behind Camille. I stepped up behind her, and tried to reach through the cloth, having to step pretty close just to get my hands through to the forearm. “Closer gentlemen, we don’t have all night.”

With a swallow I thought the crowd might hear I stepped right up against Camille’s back. I swear she wiggled her ass against the bulge in my pants that pressed against the small of her back. I would have felt guilty if she wasn’t entirely responsible for the state I was in. The official lifted the cloth up and pulled it back and that was it, I was under the table cloth, pressed tightly up against the back of the owner of Studio K’s daughter, with an erection pressing against her and all I could think about was god… did she smell good. How did I not notice that before? Suddenly her rump jammed back against me, eliciting a grunt.

“Pay attention Ned. Are you listening?” Camille scolded from the other side of the cloth. “Then she said, one second, I need to…” I felt her step up onto something, apparently there was some sort of riser built into the bottom of the counter. I don’t know what Camille thought she needed, but I can tell you this was not helping me listen or concentrate. At all. The slight distance she rose up had my cock wedged firmly between the cheeks of her tightly sheathed and very distracting ass. “..better.” I managed to hear her say. Better for what? Or for whom? Christ, I was going to die.

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