Johan knocked three times on the door to the conference room and opened it tentatively. "Herr Bergman?"
"Martin, my boy!" came a booming voice from within. "Come in, please!"
Johan entered the small conference room, smiling politely at the broad-chested man seated at the table. He stood up and strode over to Johan, clapping him on the back and grinning. "Anja was just transcribing something for me," he said. He nodded to a prim young woman at the table, dressed in smart business attire, busily tapping away on a small typewriter. She glanced up at Johan and smiled for a moment, then returned to her work.
Johan gazed back at him with calm blue eyes. "I understand you're quite busy finishing up your work before your train home," he said. "But I was wondering if I might speak with you alone for a moment." He looked at Anja apologetically. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, Frau. I just need to consult with Herr Bergman in private."
"Oh! Of course, Martin!" said Bergman. "Anja, please excuse us for a moment, would you? Perhaps you could go to the front desk and see about our luggage being transported to the station."
Anja nodded and stood up to gather her things. Johan watched her leave the room and shut the door behind her. Bergman smiled and gestured for Johan to have a seat, and the two sat down at the conference table side by side.
"Now, what can I do for you, Martin?" he said, leaning his elbows on the table and looking at Johan expectantly.
"Well, Herr Bergman," began Johan. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. "I wanted to ask for your help with something. You see, I've been having some… difficulty with my father lately." He sighed deeply. "You know our relationship has been strained. I've been staying at the hotel for almost three weeks now—"
"Establishing business contacts for your father, yes?" said Bergman. "I had to do the same thing when I was your age."
"Yes," Johan said. "And he wants me to return to Prague shortly. But after meeting you and your colleagues at this conference, I've decided to change my plans." He smiled. "Perhaps it's fate, that our paths crossed. You see, Herr Bergman, I've been inspired by you to start my own firm."
Bergman smiled widely. "Following in my footsteps, I see!" he said. "I struck out on my own at the age of 29, and I thought I was smart then—but you, Martin, you're a special young man. I've greatly enjoyed our talks this weekend. Rarely have I seen such brilliance, such acumen, in someone so young—how old did you say you were?"
"Twenty," Johan replied.
"Twenty! By your maturity and intelligence, I would have guessed 25, maybe 28! You truly are incredible." His brown eyes sparkled.
"You flatter me, Herr Bergman," Johan said, smiling shyly. "But I still have so much to learn. I was wondering, then, if you might let me in on some of your knowledge—perhaps point me in the direction of someone I could be in contact with."
"Of course, my boy!" Bergman said. He leaned back in his chair. "Now, where to begin. Hedge fund management—ah, it's a difficult game. Plenty of competition. But take it from me, Martin, if you play your cards right…"
Johan nodded attentively as Bergman went on. Keeping his eyes fixed on Bergman, Johan carefully slid his hand into his trouser pocket. He pressed a button on a small handheld tape recorder, and the spools began to turn, whirring quietly.
"… and as you can tell, there's much to be gained!" Bergman was chuckling, patting the outer pocket of his finely tailored suit, the diamonds on his wristwatch glittering in the fluorescent light of the room.
Johan nodded. He uncrossed his legs and leaned in closer towards Bergman, gazing at him intently.
"You've certainly made a comfortable life for yourself, I can tell," said Johan. He smiled. "I'm sure your wife is happy." Johan lowered his voice, speaking more softly now. "Do you miss her, Herr Bergman?"
Bergman paused, blinking at Johan. "Oh, yes, of course I do!" he said. "I miss her very much."
"It must be hard, taking all of these business trips, being apart from her for so long," Johan said. He kept his eyes locked on Bergman's and leaned in just a little more. "It must get lonely."
Bergman swallowed. "I-I suppose so," he said, his voice beginning to falter. "What… What do you mean by that, Martin?"
Johan smiled again, his eyes glinting. He reached out a slender, pale hand and placed it on Bergman's knee. "I want to thank you, Herr Bergman," he said, his voice just above a whisper now. "I want to show you how grateful I am…" He began to move his hand further up Bergman's leg. "… for all that you've done for me."
Bergman's eyes grew wide. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. "Martin—" he began.
Johan placed a finger to Bergman's lips. "Shhhh," he said. "Don't move." He stood up and walked to the conference room door and locked it shut. Then he turned, walking slowly back towards Bergman, his hands clasped behind his back. Bergman was silent, his mouth held open. He didn't take his eyes off Johan.
Johan was standing very close to him now, gazing down at him, a devious smile playing on his lips. "I know you're lonely, Herr Bergman," he said. He raised his voice just a little. "I've seen where you go at night."
"Martin, I don't know what you—"
"It's alright," Johan said gently. "There's no shame in it. There's something… different about a man, isn't there? Something a woman can't give you."
Johan kneeled down before Bergman. As stealthily as he could, he removed the tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the floor. Then he reached up and began to carefully unbuckle Bergman's belt and undo the buttons of his trousers.
Bergman looked down at him, breathing heavily. Sweat had begun to trickle down from his dark brown hair.
"Y-you're a beautiful young man, Martin," he breathed.
"Mmhmm," said Johan. He had his hand inside Bergman's trousers now and was massaging his cock. "Do you want your cock in my mouth, Herr Bergman?"
Bergman swallowed hard.
"I need to hear you say it," Johan said, his voice growing more firm. "Do you want your cock in my mouth?"
"Y-yes," Bergman said, his voice shaking.
Johan smiled. He carefully pulled Bergman's cock out of his trousers. Bergman was hard now, and his stomach heaved up and down.
Johan began to stroke Bergman's cock with his hand. He moved his head forward and ran his tongue down the length of it, slowly. Bergman buried his thick fingers in Johan's soft blonde hair.
"Does your wife do this for you, Herr Bergman?" Johan breathed. "Does she stroke your cock like this?"
Bergman moaned slightly in response. Johan let go of his cock briefly and looked up at him. "You need to answer my questions," he said sternly.
"N-no!" Bergman said. His forehead was glistening with sweat. He took one hand off Johan's head and loosened his tie. "No, she doesn't."
Johan smiled. He placed his hands on Bergman's thighs, and with one smooth motion slid Bergman's cock into his mouth, taking it all the way in, letting it press into his throat.
Bergman let out a throaty moan. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, wrapping his fingers in Johan's hair, breathing heavily. Johan began to suck, moving his lips up and down the length of Bergman's cock, making it wet with his spit.
He took Bergman's cock out of his mouth for a moment, stroking it with his hand as he looked up at him. "Your cock is so big and thick, Herr Bergman," he said. He was smiling—not with lust, but with a perverse thrill as he watched the older man reduced to a sweating, heaving mess, completely under Johan's command. "Do you like it when I suck it?"
"Yes, Martin, y-yes!" Bergman said, his voice growing louder.
In response, Johan took Bergman's cock in his mouth again. He pumped his head back and forth, the shaft sliding down into his throat and back out again. He let his tongue flutter over the head, sucking harder, moving faster, as Bergman tightened his grip on Johan's head.
"You're so good, Martin, you're so good," Bergman said. Johan moaned over his cock in response. He was focusing on the top half now, sucking it hard, stroking the bottom of the shaft with one hand, fondling Bergman's balls with the other.
Johan took his mouth off Bergman's cock and looked up at him, keeping his hand pumping over the length of his shaft. Johan's eyes were sharp, intense. He was unable to suppress a grin as he watched Bergman's face contort with pleasure, watched his chest heave up and down.
"You're going to cum, aren't you, Herr Bergman?" Johan said. He made sure to keep his voice audible over Bergman's heavy breath.
"Y-yes," Bergman stammered.
"I want your hot cum in my mouth," Johan said. He was almost laughing. "Do you want to cum in my mouth?"
"Yes! Yes, Martin, I want to—I want to—"
Johan thrust his mouth over Bergman's cock, pushing it over his tongue and into the back of his throat, his lips almost meeting the base. Bergman cried out as his hot cum pumped down Johan's throat, his legs shaking in ecstasy. Johan moved his head back and forth slowly, sucking and swallowing, making sure to take in every last drop of Bergman's cum.
Bergman relaxed his grip and let out a deep sigh. Johan pulled back and sucked on the head of his cock for a moment, licking the last bits of cum off of it. Then he let go and leaned back on his heels, gazing up at Bergman.
Bergman opened his eyes and wiped the sweat off his brow. He looked down at Johan. For a brief moment he smiled, dazed with pleasure, and then his eyes grew wide. He straightened up suddenly, terror dawning on his face, stuffing his cock hastily back into his trousers.
Johan picked up the tape recorder at Bergman's feet and stood, holding it behind his back. "Thank you so much, Herr Bergman," he purred. "Give my kindest regards to your wife."
He pressed the stop button and slid the tape recorder back in his pocket, making sure to keep it out of sight. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at Bergman, who was looking up at him, mouth open, eyes wide with desperation.
"M-Martin!" he stammered, but Johan was already walking towards the door.
Once out in the hall, Johan shut the door to the conference room quietly. Anja was walking briskly up the hall towards him.
"Ah, Anja," said Johan, smiling at her pleasantly. "I've just finished speaking with your boss. He asked me to give this to you; he'd like you to transcribe it for him later."
He took the tape out of the recorder and handed it to her. "Have a wonderful trip home," he said, and with a polite nod strode off down the corridor.