I needed a large, stiff one. After all these years I still suffered nerves before a speech.
“Could I have a glass of gin?” I asked, spurning my host’s offer of tea or coffee in the green room before we went on stage. I’d already wrong-footed him so he was already off his guard, so he was probably glad to go and stick his head around the door of the catering area to see what he could arrange. When people invite Dr Alexis Giorghiou to be the keynote speaker at their professional conferences, they seldom expect a woman. You’d think they’d do some research, but then engineering is still a male-dominated world so I suppose they just assumed, as usual. I had to work extra hard and box clever to reach so high in my career, and I could tell you some stories. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Those stories can wait for another time.
“How was your journey?” asked the host, who introduced himself as Vince Bradshaw, chairman of the local association. He was a short, thickset man in advanced middle-age, an off-the-peg grey suit covering a beer-gut, a professional tie in grey with a small red and yellow motif, and thin grey hair slicked back from his forehead. I had a feeling that I’d be expected to go for drinks or a meal with him after the session and I wasn’t feeling optimistic about the evening, though I wasn’t ready to give up hope yet. It gets lonely at the top of a profession, especially as a powerful woman, and I needed a good fucking.
“Could have been better,” I said. There had been intermittent drizzle making the roads greasy and a string of roadworks limiting the opportunities to let the Aston Martin rip. But I was bowled over when I finally arrived at the venue. It was one of those old Victorian gothic town halls, muscular cathedrals to the titans of the industrial revolution: a great phallus of a clock tower surrounded by gables and buttresses, arches and corbelled windows and turrets, like a fairy-tale castle. That was the best thing I’d seen so far today.
Until, that is, my gin arrived. It came on a silver tray. Overkill really; a glass, a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, not quite full, a plate of lemon slices with a pair of silver tongs, another glass with ice, an opened bottle of tonic water a couple of napkins, two round chocolates or mints wrapped in gold foil. Best of all, the tray was borne by a tall, athletic young man whose name tag identified him as Tyler. His facial skin was the colour of strong Yorkshire tea with just a little bit of milk, clean-shaven, with his dark hair in a neat buzz fade. His eyes definitely did a double take when he saw me, but when I smiled and thanked him, I made sure to meet his gaze, and there was definitely a knowing glint there. Things were definitely taking a turn for the better. I made a mental note to find Tyler again after my talk. I could already feel a stirring in my crotch. I poured myself two fingers of gin, and after inwardly drinking to adventures ahead, I savoured the burning fluid, working it around in my mouth before letting it slide down my throat.
I followed Vince into the main auditorium. I was wearing a sleeveless blue-and-white silk dress to calf-length, with a narrow patent black belt nipping in the waist just enough to offer a hint of soft curves beneath. Dark chestnut hair twisted into a chignon at the back of my neck. Black patent shoes with three-inch heels. I knew from long experience how to play an audience when they might not otherwise take me seriously. I aimed for desirable but inaccessible. Cool as ice. You can look but you can’t touch. Unless I decided it was somebody’s lucky night, but I wasn’t giving anything away. That way, I’d have their full attention. They would eat out of my hand if I let them. And not just my hand, either. It was like a superpower. I knew I could have any one of them afterwards if I wanted, and that thought scared the shit out of me. It can be very lonely, being powerful, and often empty, and now as so often a cloud of sadness seemed to fold itself around me. I yearned for something more, something that had evaded me all my life.
As I stepped up to the lectern to speak, I cast my eyes over the audience. I was looking for an interesting face or two to focus on as I gave my talk. There were no women in the hall, apart from me. It was one of those old municipal halls lined with grime-tinted portraits of bygone worthies, all men of course, in heavy gilt frames. The real-life faces might have been aspiring to succeed them. There were none under fifty, I think. All were white, all wore suits and ties. None of them felt enticing. Especially now that Tyler had lodged himself in my mind. It was Tyler who helped me through my lecture.
I gave them the technical expertise they had come to hear, and as so often before, I laced it with some gentle flirting to make it digestible. The gin had made me bold and at one point, as I strayed across the platform and turned to ask for the next PowerPoint slide, I artlessly allowed the microphone cable to catch the hem of my dress, allowing just the briefest glimpse of sheer stocking top pulled taught by a white lacy suspender strap. Another intake of breath across the audience. But my heart wasn’t in it. I was thinking only of Tyler, his lean and muscular young body, his lush, cunt-mashing lips, his area of confidence bordering on cockiness, the promise of what lurked beneath his trousers. I could already feel a glow, almost an unbearable itch, growing around my crotch, just thinking about him as I talked. I really, really hoped I’d find him again afterwards. He was all I wanted right then.
And then, as I scanned the room once more while I talked, I became aware of Tyler in the room. He was standing by a side door, the one that led through to the room where the after-session buffet was laid out. He was leaning casually against the door frame with his arms folded. He was looking directly at me. I don’t think he was taking in anything about fluid dynamics. Not in the engineering sense, anyway. Some fluid dynamics had been happening under his trousers, though, and it looked very impressive from where I stood. I was sure he could teach me a thing or two there.
Without missing a word of my talk, I raised my own eyes to challenge his. He didn’t flinch. His eyes bored into mine. I let the tip of my tongue drift idly across my upper lip. He smiled, slowly and lasciviously. I sensed my cunt beginning to clench and throb as warm waves rippled out through my body. Under my bra, my nipples were swelling, straining to escape from the fabric.
He made an O with his lips and ran the tip of his tongue around them. For the first time, I felt my speech falter. I had to pause to take a sip of water. You bastard, I thought. You big, bad, beautiful black bastard. I’ll have you for that.
I made it through the lecture and closed to warm applause. I wondered if they’d noticed anything. I didn’t really care all that much, though. I felt flushed and a bit faint as I sat down. I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t wholly in control of myself and I hoped Vince wasn’t going to draw out the questions for too long. I tried not to look at Tyler but when I gave in to the temptation I noticed he was gone. I hoped he wasn’t too far away.
He wasn’t around in the buffet either. I wasn’t feeling very hungry, not for rubber chicken legs and vol-au-vents anyway, but I put a few things on my plate and stood around with a glass of cheap white wine in my other hand. Nobody seemed much interested in coming to talk to me. Maybe they were embarrassed. Maybe I was putting out an intimidating aura. I didn’t really want to talk to them either. I drained my glass, put my untouched plate down on a table, and slipped out of the room in search of a different kind of refreshment.
“Can I have another gin, please?” I found Tyler in the room he’d first emerged from with his silver tray.
“Of course you can, Doctor Alexis Georghiou,” he said, “is there anything else madam would like while I’m about it?” He was grinning. His eyes were fixed on mine but this time I couldn’t help looking away. I felt my face flushing. My cunt was clenching again and sending more ripples through my body. I was losing control here and I wasn’t too sure how to handle it. He poured a finger of the Bombay Sapphire and handed it to me. That would at least help me not to worry about losing myself. That might, I thought, be a good thing here.
“Well,” I said, “this is a wonderful building. I bet it’s full of secrets. Would you like to tell me some?”
“We do a guided tour every Thursday afternoon,” he said.
“That’s a shame. I have to be back in London tomorrow so I won’t be able to stay around for it.”
“I could show you a little bit of it if you like?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’d like that very much.” I liked what I saw growing in the front of his trousers too. My cheeks were burning now, and I sensed that Tyler was well aware of it. It was all I could do to stop myself from reaching out and stroking his crotch.
“Very well, madam. A special tour just for you then. I know some very secret places.”
He opened a cupboard. From it he took a big bunch of keys and something that looked like a black leather toilet bag. Intriguing. He was up to something.
He led me up a broad marble staircase. It led to a corridor lined with doors of polished mahogany, each bearing a legend in gilt letters. Committee rooms, Mayor’s office, Leader’s office, Town Clerk. Tyler stopped to unlock a smaller, anonymous door, then he ushered me through in front of him to a plain stone staircase that curved upwards. As he climbed behind me, I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, sending tingling shivers right down my spine. For no good reason I stopped, so that his body bumped into the back of mine, and I could actually feel his hardness pressed into my buttocks and upwards into the small of my back. It felt like he was packing something very special in there. I wondered where he was taking me. I hoped it wouldn’t be long before we got there. Otherwise I couldn’t be held responsible for what I might do.