A couple of years ago, shortly after Ray had coerced me into sex in his conference room, he floated the idea of using me to entertain one of his business associates. I knew refusal wasn’t an option—he still held those compromising photos and videos over my head. Anxiety gnawed at me because I had no idea what to expect, but Ray was forthcoming about the man in question.
His name was Robert, a prominent figure in real estate. He owned and managed several commercial REITs listed in Singapore, with properties scattered across the city-state as well as Malaysia, Indonesia, and Thailand. Word was he was now eyeing opportunities in Vietnam and Myanmar. Married, with three beautiful daughters, his wife was roughly my age but—according to Ray—noticeably plumper and less attractive. Ray even showed me photos. I recognized him immediately; he was one of those familiar real-estate tycoons whose face appeared in business pages now and then.
Ray and Robert were deep in negotiations. Ray had already made concessions, but Robert was holding firm, refusing to budge. To sweeten the pot, Ray had shown Robert some of my (clothed) profile pictures. Robert was intrigued and eager to meet me. Ray played it coy, telling him we’d crossed paths a few times and were in the early, flirty stages—nothing about our ongoing affair. His plan was simple: I was to charm Robert, keep him relaxed, and hopefully nudge him toward the concessions Ray needed. Knowing Robert’s background and the stakes of the deal, I understood exactly what Ray expected. This was several levels beyond the games I’d played at Goldman Sachs.
The meeting was set for the next day. For the occasion, I chose a striking red floral Chinese halter cheongsam with a high side slit that flashed my left thigh with every step. The hem fell just above the knee. Beneath it: red panties, no bra.
The three of us met in a private dining room at one of the upscale Chinese restaurants in Marina Bay Sands. I sat between the two men. Conversation stayed light at first—small talk, introductions, getting comfortable. Robert was surprisingly warm and gentlemanly, with a soft light beard that gave him a fatherly, reassuring air rather than anything intimidating. As the middle person, I poured tea for both and served portions onto their plates when dishes arrived. Robert seemed charmed by the attentiveness, complimenting my poise and grace.
Talk eventually turned to business. Robert remained stubbornly unwilling to yield much ground. I could see frustration creeping into Ray’s expression. Under the table, I rested my hand on Ray’s thigh and gave a gentle squeeze—my silent signal to stay calm. Our eyes met; I nodded subtly. I’ve got this.
Moments later, Ray glanced at his phone, typed a quick reply, then announced an urgent family matter. He shook Robert’s hand, patted my shoulder, and left. Suddenly, it was just the two of us in the private room.
Robert looked at me, visibly shy, unsure whether to make a move. I could sense his desire, but hesitation held him back. To ease the tension, I poured more tea. He sipped. I picked up a slice of tender duck breast with chopsticks and fed it to him. He opened his mouth obediently, accepting it with a delighted smile. I fed him another piece, then took his hand.
“Don’t be shy,” I said softly, holding his gaze.
I asked why he was so guarded in the negotiations. He opened up—admitting he felt insecure, worried Ray might try to dominate the deal or even betray him later. I listened, then made my offer: if he gave the necessary concessions, I’d spend more time with him—and Ray would be fine with it.
To my surprise, he agreed. He called Ray right there, and they sealed the deal over the phone.
Now it was my turn to keep my word.
After dinner, we moved to a quiet bar in the hotel. We settled on a couch with glasses of red wine. Conversation flowed easily; by the second bottle, the alcohol had loosened us both. I grew bolder, more flirtatious—touching his arm, leaning closer. He draped his right arm around my shoulders; I nestled against him. I guided his left hand to my lap, right where the high slit parted the fabric. His fingers traced my thigh, warm and tentative. I could see the bulge in his trousers; I was already wet, arousal building.
With other patrons around, he didn’t push further. I suggested we find somewhere more private—a suite upstairs.
In the room, we opened a third bottle on the couch. Robert remained a perfect gentleman, never rushing. When the last glasses were empty, the air between us crackled with mutual lust. Neither moved first. Since I was there to fulfill my part, I took the initiative.
I placed his hand back on my thigh. He caressed higher, slipping beneath the slit until his fingers brushed my panties. I was soaked. Our mouths met in a deep, hungry kiss—breaths ragged, bodies pressing closer.
I lifted my hips so he could slide my panties down. He brought them to his face, inhaling my scent with obvious pleasure. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat through me.
I knelt on the couch, facing away, hiking the cheongsam to my waist to bare my ass and pussy. He slapped my cheeks lightly, then buried his face between them, tongue lapping at my folds, tasting my wetness. I moaned at the intensity. Then his tongue moved to my anus—circling, probing. No one had ever done that to me before. The sensation was strange, ticklish, deeply intimate. It awakened something new: I wanted to feel him there, to give him my untouched ass.
He stood, shed his pants. His cock was impressively thick for an Asian man—long, veined, intimidating. I bent forward again, offering myself. He slicked my hole with saliva, then pressed the head against my ring. Slowly, carefully, he eased in. The stretch burned at first, but I breathed through it. Inch by inch, he filled me completely. Once buried, he began to thrust—steady, then faster. Pain mingled with unexpected pleasure; the fullness, the forbidden intimacy, soon had me trembling with excitement. Face pressed into the sofa cushions, ass raised, I cried out as he pounded into me. When he came, hot spurts flooded my ass. He pulled out; I turned, took his softening cock in my mouth, and cleaned every drop.
We rested, curled together. After about half an hour, he hardened again. This time I wanted him in my pussy.
He carried me to the bed, lay back. I stroked and licked him until he was rock-hard, then straddled him, guiding his length inside me. I rode him slowly at first, grinding, savoring the stretch. His hands roamed my breasts, squeezing, pinching. He sat up to suck one nipple while kneading the other.
We switched—he rolled me onto my back, spread my legs wide, and entered me in missionary. This round lasted longer; he was relentless, pulling out occasionally to lick my clit and taste me before plunging back in. The alternation drove me wild. I came twice, shaking beneath him. Just before his climax, he withdrew and told me to open my mouth. I did. He erupted across my tongue—bitter, salty, warm. I swallowed without hesitation.
We showered, dressed, and parted. I knew the deal was done; Ray would be thrilled.
The next day, Ray texted his thanks. The partnership was sealed.
That night with Robert was the first of many. What began as a one-time favor has continued ever since.
