Evening Conference

by Fukuhashi (福橋)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/36644.html)

As Watanabe Toshio entered the conference room, he turned on the lights and sniffed the air, noting a hint of disinfectants and air fresheners mixed with the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. He checked the trashcan squatting next to the Office Lady’s teacart. It was empty. Now that he was certain the janitor had already cleaned the room, Watanabe had one less thing to worry about. He removed a roll of antacid tablets from his coat as his stomach reminded him how he disliked dealing with the stress of surprises or emergencies.

*Sasaki will think I’m crazy.* Watanabe sighed as those unwelcome words drifted through his thoughts again. They irritated him. They sullied his composure, making it difficult for him to prepare to play cupid. After a quick check of the hallway, he quietly slid the door closed although it was unlikely anyone would wander by at this hour. The full time workers started leaving around 7:30 PM and it was now 8:05 PM. He paced around the long table in the center of the room, desperately wanting to be somewhere else as he waited for Sasaki to arrive. He would gladly put up with hour upon hour of his girlfriend dragging him from one overpriced store to the next if he could just delete the last twenty-four hours.

It occurred to him that Sasaki might interpret their meeting as part of a hidden camera show that tricked people into believing something outrageous was taking place. That was certainly what the whole situation felt like to him. He wished he had a script to read from so he could blame the writers when all hell broke loose. If Sasaki had been a childhood friend, Watanabe would have easily confided in him, but they had first met at the university. Still, he considered Sasaki to be a good friend. They shared a love of baseball, Sapporo beer and historical literature; however, their relationship was not close enough for Watanabe to share the details of his dilemma.

He stretched his arms over his head, trying to work out the tension in his shoulders and neck. After several more circuits around the table, Watanabe’s mind wandered off to fantasies of his girlfriend. He pictured her opening the door to her apartment while wearing only a lacy apron. Rushing inside, he pinned her against the nearest wall.


He stumbled, only to catch hold of a chair next to the table. The chair’s metal frame chilled the palm of his hand as he motioned for Sasaki to join him in conference room. “Close the door, please.” No more stalling, he warned himself. Watanabe had no real clue as to how Sasaki would react to the request he was about to make of him, but the fact that Watanabe did not ask for favors lightly could be a point in his favor right now. If there was any way he could handle a problem on his own, he did. “I’m sorry to call you out like this, Sasaki.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can buy the first round once we get to the bar with everyone else.” Sasaki’s cheerful tone surprised Watanabe.

*He must have had a good day. Could this be the lucky break I hoped for?* Sasaki’s smile did a lot to soften the big man’s gruff appearance, and it was rare treat to see one at work. Watanabe fondly recalled when the Tora Publishing Company hired him and Sasaki last April. At first, Sasaki’s unusual height and stern expression frightened most of his new co-workers. However, as the weeks passed, they learned he was a diligent worker. Now his co-workers respected him, the supervisor trusted him, and the Office Ladies tripped over each other in their rush to provide him with special lunches and snacks. Watanabe was certain Sasaki would be getting many boxes of chocolate for Valentine’s Day this year.

“Yes. Of course I will,” Watanabe assured him. “Let me get right to the point. I was at Kiba-san’s bar last night with my group, and Drake came along with us. He’s the …”

Sasaki’s smile disappeared like a gold coin dropped into a murky pond. “I know,” he said abruptly. “He’s the American temporarily working in the translation department.”

“I wasn’t sure if you had met him.” Watanabe shivered as a chill swept over him. This was not a good sign.

“You should stay away from that foreigner. I don’t trust him.”

“Really? That was my first time talking to him. He speaks very well and enjoys discussing politics and current events. He even bought a round for my group. But then as I was getting ready to leave, he pulled me aside and…”

“Did he confess to you?”

“What? No.” Watanabe scratched his head. *Did I miss some important gossip?* He wanted to ask Sasaki what else he knew about Drake, but that might ruin his only chance of succeeding. “But you’re right. He mentioned that he’s attracted to Asian men who are athletic and tall and have strong shoulders.”

“He means guys that look like me. Right?”

“Yes.” Watanabe had trouble forcing that simple word out of his mouth.

“That damn homo. He just won’t take no for an answer.”

“What are you saying? Has he talked to you before?”

“Did he ask you to play matchmaker?”

“Y-yes. You see he told me he was reluctant to talk to you because you seem so cold most of the time. He heard I was your friend, and he thought I might be able to convince you to have dinner with him. I feel foolish for saying this, but do you think you could give him a chance? He won’t be here much longer. His work visa expires next month.”

Sasaki snorted. “I’m not giving him any more chances. Three times he approached me. I refused to go drinking with him twice. The third time he came right out and said he would pay me if I had sex with him. He’s lucky all I did was punch him in the guts. I thought he might complain to his supervisor or accuse me of assaulting him, but he didn’t.”

“I see,” Watanabe whispered. “You’re right. He isn’t trustworthy.” Once again, he reached into his jacket for the roll of tablets that would calm his sour stomach. Drake purposely neglected to tell him about his earlier encounters with Sasaki, setting him up for failure. He was cornered. With his life collapsing around him, Watanabe faced the door. “I’ve been a fool. I’m sorry for bothering you, Sasaki. Let’s go get those beers.” His hand brushed over the cell phone resting in his pocket as he thought about calling home. Usually, during difficulties like this, he would seek his father’s advice, but not this time.

Sasaki grabbed Watanabe’s shoulder and turned him around. Looking up, he saw that Sasaki’s face was as red and distorted as one of those demon masks sold in the tourist stores. “I can tell when the fish isn’t fresh. Why would you agree to play matchmaker for that idiot? What did he say to you? Did he threaten to make trouble for me if I didn’t give in?”


“Then what? Does he have something on you? Is that why you look so pale? Tell me what’s going on so I can help.”

“I don’t want to burden you with my troubles. Please just forget about all this.”

Sasaki squeezed his fists, knuckles popping like a string of firecrackers. “I guess I’ll ask around if you won’t tell me.”

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Let me decide if that’s true.” Watanabe shook his head, but he could see by Sasaki’s stance that his friend would not be dissuaded. Sasaki stepped past him and reached for the door. “Don’t let that pile of shit push you around. I noticed a stench in the lobby before I came in here. I’ll go check on it.”

“No!” Watanabe threw his arms around Sasaki’s chest. As he pressed his forehead between Sasaki’s shoulder blades, he could feel tears well up in his eyes. Sasaki stopped.

“Your hands are cold and you’re shaking. Can it really be so bad?”

He knew he should let go of Sasaki. He should stand up and act like a man, yet the comfort of holding on to someone so solid helped settled him when Sasaki placed his larger hands over his own. That simple gesture unlocked his heart.

“You’re right,” Watanabe said. “He’s blackmailing me. But please don’t ask me for details. I’ll deal with Drake on my own.”

Watanabe could feel the perspiration gathering on his back. Reluctantly he let go of Sasaki and sat down in one of the chairs. He stared at his hands. They did not seem to belonged to him, and he hung his head as Sasaki stood silently next to him. Why did he feel like the sleaze ball in this whole mess?

Watanabe looked up when the conference room door opened with a loud thump.

“That should have been enough time to explain it all to him,” Drake said as he entered the room. He slammed the door close again with a flick of his hand.

Watanabe stood up. “Go away, Drake. Sasaki said no to your advances again, and now we’re leaving.”

“He said no despite the fact that your father’s career and reputation are threatened?”

“Stop!” Watanabe shouted.

“Hmmm… I see. You didn’t tell Sasaki-san I have incriminating photos of your father?”

“Don’t listen to him, Sasaki. Please, I’m begging you, leave now.” Watanabe pushed against Sasaki’s shoulder, but his efforts were as effective as trying to move the building.

Drake continued. “Since his father is an important executive, a scandal would hurt the whole company. It would also damage a young girl’s reputation. Nonetheless, you can walk away if…”

Sasaki’s fist hit Drake in the chest, pressing him against the door. “Stop spouting that sewage already. I’ll do it. I’ll have sex with you. Here, right now, in this room, if you agree to turn over everything you have against Watanabe’s father.”

Watanabe clutched at Sasaki’s coat. “No! Please reconsider. You have no reason to subject yourself to this. Doesn’t it make you angry to submit to his whims?”

“It does,” Sasaki conceded. “But if my actions benefit the company by preventing a scandal, then everyone will benefit.”

Watanabe dropped to his knees and touched his head to the floor. “Sasaki, I am truly obligated to you.”

“He’s got the right idea,” the American declared. “Because that’s how I want you to start off, Sasaki-san — on your knees, sucking my cock.”

Sasaki pulled on Watanabe’s arm until he was standing once more. “I have one other condition. Watanabe will stay in here with me. I need someone to watch my back and call security if you do something stupid. I don’t doubt a shitbag like you would try to drug me or control me in some way.”

“That’s fine with me,” Drake said, “as long as I get what I want.”

“I …okay,” Watanabe said, feeling unsteady as he leaned against the wall. He despised manipulative people like Drake.

“Are you upset by all this, Watanabe?” Sasaki asked.

“Yes. I didn’t want to drag you into this. I’m sorry. I offered him my body last night, but he refused.” What he couldn’t bring himself to tell Sasaki was how relieved he felt when Drake said no.

“Stop apologizing already. You didn’t cause this problem.” Sasaki shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t stress yourself to death, Watanabe. Americans are weak. They have no stamina. I bet you he’ll shoot before ten minutes pass.” Sasaki chuckled, and Watanabe found himself joining in. Anything that took Drake down a notch right now was surprisingly funny at this moment.

“Yes. You’re right.” He forced himself to laugh again in an attempt to shed his anxiety.

Drake gave them the finger. “Let’s get started on that bet of yours, amateur.”

Drake and Sasaki stared at each other like two dogs preparing to fight, and Watanabe imagined they would start growling and biting each other. Drake broke the tension by being the first to turn away. He removed his wool coat, setting it and a brown paper bag on the table before strolling over to the corner of the room. Watanabe hated the man’s calm appearance. His fair skin was smooth and clear, and his fine blond hair was carefully styled. Drake was only two or three centimeters taller than Sasaki, but Sasaki probably outweighed him by at least ten kilograms. Drake unzipped his trousers and pushed his boxers down.

“There are condoms and lube in the bag.”

Watanabe glanced down, shamelessly comparing his dick to Drake’s. There was not much difference in his opinion. In fact, he was sure Drake was smaller. Nevertheless, the moment Sasaki knelt down in front of Drake, Watanabe blushed.

Sasaki looked as discontented as a child did sitting down to dinner before a bowl of slimy vegetables. Such a sight made Watanabe’s heart ache. The closer Sasaki got to Drake, the more Watanabe wanted to push him away. He moistened his lips as Sasaki licked Drake’s circumcised cock. It twitched, its color darkening as it slowly arched upward. His own dick swelled against his briefs as Sasaki took Drake into his mouth. Watching the clock on the wall, Watanabe counted the seconds as a distraction. Although he tried to ignore what was going on, he found his gaze returning to Sasaki. It was like having a TV on in an empty room. The program showing may not have been what he wanted to see, but Watanabe’s eyes returned to watch as if by their own accord. The first time Sasaki caught him staring Watanabe squeaked in alarm and quickly dropped his gaze. It was deplorable to act this way, he admonished himself, while Sasaki endured Drake’s whims all for the sake of protecting the company and Watanabe’s father.

*Am I insane?* He could not stop looking at Sasaki’s mouth.

As Drake’s fingers brushed over Sasaki’s hair, Watanabe wished he was the one touching Sasaki. The very idea of Sasaki’s stubble scraping against his thighs made him immediately want to cover himself in embarrassment and to clench his cock at the same time. Drake moaned and occasionally hummed part of a song Watanabe did not recognize. Two minutes had passed now and he really hoped Sasaki would win the bet.

He watched them out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious in his voyeurism but his erection had to be visible to the others if they looked over at him. Here he was, a twenty-four years old businessman, and he was as hard as a thirteen year-old seeing his first porn movie. He watched AVs occasionally, but it seemed to make a world of difference for him that this time the sex was live and it involved someone he knew and cared about. Splaying his hand over his crotch, he felt himself grow even harder under the thin fabric of his trousers. He craved to be touched, to be swallowed up by warmth and wetness.

Watanabe was not sure why, but Sasaki appeared to be moving more confidently now. One hand slid up and down Drake’s length as he tongued and sucked on Drake’s balls. Watanabe could not hold back anymore. He unzipped his trousers and reached into his briefs to stroke himself.

“Watanabe-san,” Drake murmured, “are you enjoying this also. I usually don’t like having an audience, but … Ouch! That hurt.”

Watanabe hunched his shoulders as he turned away to avoid the accusing eyes he imagined where looking at him. Sasaki must think he was a total pervert.

“Stop talking,” Sasaki ordered, “or I’ll twist your balls off.”

Watanabe squeezed his dick until the pain made him see double. If only there was music or the inane chatter of a talk show host to ease the silence of this awkward moment, he might be able to calm down. Nonetheless, even his acute embarrassment could not make his dick behave.

“Watanabe.” It was Sasaki’s voice lending fuel to the desire raging through him. He did not dare to face him or trust his voice. “Please look at me. It’s okay.”

Watanabe thought his legs might collapse as he gazed over his shoulder at Sasaki.

“It’s okay to watch,” Sasaki reassured him. “I’m glad you’re not disgusted by all this.”

Watanabe put his back against the wall. He could not bring himself to face Sasaki completely.

Once more Sasaki spoke. “I’d rather look at you, Watanabe, than this homo. Push your clothes out of the way.”

Watanabe hesitated only because he knew Drake would be watching. A few heartbeats later, he dropped his trousers and briefs to mid thigh and continued jacking off. The three of them carried on in relative silence. A quick check of the clock showed Watanabe that six minutes had almost passed. Selfishly he hoped this all might go on for longer since it was an immense relief to know that Sasaki did not hate him.

Drake’s unexpected shout caused Watanabe to face the corner of the room once more. Did Sasaki bite him? That bastard Drake deserved some pain. Instead, Watanabe had an unobstructed view of Drake sliding his entire cock into Sasaki’s mouth. Watanabe’s throat hurt in sympathy as he watched Sasaki blink back tears. Drake’s hands gripped Sasaki’s hair as his hips snapped forward with short thrusts. Drake was coming, and in less than ten minutes as Sasaki predicted. It felt like a battle had finally been won. However, his burning sense of victory fizzled out when he realized that Sasaki was swallowing.

“Stop!” Watanabe lurched forward to push Drake away from Sasaki, but Sasaki held out an open hand.

Drake laughed breathlessly as he let his hands drop away from Sasaki. “You’re better than I thought you’d be.” Sasaki stood up and continued staring at Drake as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Watanabe could only imagine the contempt Sasaki was feeling right now. Drake reached out for Sasaki’s belt buckle. “Want me to reciprocate?” Sasaki smacked his hand away, but did not raise a fist to him. Watanabe frowned, wondering if he even had a chance of breaking them apart if a fight started.

Drake removed his shoes and freed one leg from his slacks and boxers. Turning his back to Sasaki, Drake bent over slightly and put his hands on the wall. “I’m ready, Baby Bear.” He wiggled his ass in what he must have thought was a seductive manner, yet it only made Watanabe’s foot itch to kick him. The crinkle of the paper bag caught Watanabe’s interest and he looked over to see what Sasaki was doing.

Sasaki opened one of the condoms and rolled it down over his cock. Next he took a second condom and placed it over his index and middle finger. Watanabe wondered why until he saw him open the bottle of lubricant and squirt some onto the second condom. Sasaki kept his eyes on Watanabe as he jammed the lube and condom covered fingers up Drake’s ass.

Watanabe grinned at Sasaki when he heard Drake whimper. After a few rough twists, Sasaki removed his fingers and dropped the used condom into the trashcan. He immediately shoved his cock into Drake by seizing the American’s hips and slamming into him. Seeing Drake get fucked like a cheap whore did wonders for Watanabe’s stress levels and he tried to match his rhythm to Sasaki’s.

Crooking his fingers, Sasaki motioned for Watanabe to move closer. What was Sasaki up to? Watanabe was not sure if he wanted Sasaki to touch him and he certainly did not want to touch Drake. This was kinky enough as far as he was concerned. He liked watching Sasaki move. Watanabe had seen Sasaki in shorts before, during a company baseball game last September, but it fascinated him to see his friend’s pleasantly rounded bottom and muscular thighs moving so vigorously. The slap of flesh against flesh spurred him on as he shuffled forward.

Watanabe could not believe his eyes when he saw Sasaki reach up and grab a fist full of Drake’s hair. Drake, shouting his surprise, was compelled to turn towards Watanabe.

“Do it, Watanabe,” Sasaki panted. “Come on his face.”

The angry, disheveled look on Drake’s face was all he needed. Massaging his tight balls and stroking off a few more time, he shot his load. The first glob of come hit Drake’s cheek. Watanabe edged closer hoping to get some in Drake’s mouth. Most of it ended up dripping down Drake’s chin. Watanabe steadied himself against a wall as his eyesight blurred.

Sasaki let go of Drakes hair and continued pounding him so hard that they ended up on the floor. Drake was now on his hands and knees, which looked like the proper position for him in Watanabe’s estimation. Sasaki’s face twisted in pleasure and Watanabe’s dick pulsed in response. With a grunt, Sasaki shoved Drake away from him. He stood up on noticeably unsteady legs and Watanabe reached out to him.

“I’m okay,” he assured him.

Sasaki stripped off the condom and put it in the trashcan after tying it off. Watanabe stepped back, unsure if he should say anything at all as he and Sasaki put their clothes in order. Once they were done, he opened the door and switched on the fan in the room in an attempt to freshen the air.

To Watanabe’s surprise, Drake managed to stand up by himself after that pounding, although he did hobble after putting his pants back on and returning to the table.

“A blowjob, a hard, fast fuck and a facial. I have to say it was worth every penny.”

“Give me the memory stick from the camera,” Watanabe demanded.

“I don’t have it on me. I’ll drop it in your mail box tomorrow. Or you could come over to my apartment. After seeing you in action, Watanabe-san, I’d like to fuck your virgin ass.”

“Drop dead, old man.”

Drake chuckled as he put on his coat. “Just think, Sasaki-san, you could have had the money I spent on the booze, the drugs, the room and the girl if you had cooperated in the first place. Just like I told you, I eventually get what I want.”

With a deafening shout, Sasaki rushed forward, grabbed Drake’s coat collar and flung the American into the hallway. Arms flailing and coat flapping behind him, Drake hit the wall across from the door with a satisfying thud. Watanabe scooped up the paper bag on the table and threw it at Drake before Sasaki slammed the door closed. Watanabe doubled over with deep, body-shaking laughter that quickly brought tears to his eyes. That had to be one of the funniest things he had ever seen. He glanced over at Sasaki. His friend was not laughing.

Watanabe coughed and sputtered as he tried to tone down his amusement. “Come on. Let’s go get those beers, as many as you want. It’ll be my treat.”

Moving faster than Watanabe could react, Sasaki wrapped his arms around him, trapping him against the wall as he pushed his thigh between Watanabe’s considerably skinnier legs. Sasaki’s clothes tangled with his own, and Watanabe was sure they would lose their balance at any moment. Teeth gouged his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. Was this how it felt to be attacked by a bear? No matter how much he wanted to, Watanabe could not pull back far enough to take the pressure off his dick. Sasaki’s calloused hands slipped under his shirt and scrubbed Watanabe’s back, leaving it feeling hot and raw. Those hands then grabbed his ass, pulling Watanabe upward and forcing him to move along with the insistent thrusting of Sasaki’s hips. Watanabe clung to Sasaki’s shirt, lost in the nightmarish pleasure of Sasaki controlling him, binding him.

“Stop,” he gasped. This was new territory for him. Being held down by someone bigger and stronger than him presented a danger he never associated with sex. Sure, his first few times with a woman had been embarrassing; however, he had quickly gained confidence with each experience. He twisted about in desperation, heart pounding, but could not break free. “Why are you doing this, Sasaki?”

Quick as a snake’s strike, Sasaki’s right hand came around and grabbed Watanabe’s chin. He could not look away as Sasaki began to speak. “Stay with me tonight. Let me drown in you. Convince my body that you are the only man I’ve ever touched like this. I have to forget everything else.”

Stunned by this request, Watanabe could only stare back at his friend.

Sasaki’s right hand now cupped the back of Watanabe’s head as he leaned in to nuzzle Watanabe’s neck and hair. His stubble rubbed against Watanabe’s with a faint scritch scratch. Sasaki’s voice filled Watanabe’s ears while it rumbled through his chest. “May I call you Toshio?” Sasaki used his teeth to pull Watanabe’s coat partially off his shoulder.


Watanabe shivered as Sasaki’s lips traced his collarbone. “Please, Toshio. I need you,” he whispered. Without another word, he let go of Watanabe and backed away. Watanabe caught himself on the wall as his legs buckled. Although he did not hit the floor, he could not stand up either.

Slowly, as seconds gathered into minutes, he managed to straighten out his legs and regain his sense of balance. As he was running his hands over his clothes, tucking in his shirt and making sure his fly was closed, he reached what he could vaguely describe as a return to normalcy. Watanabe looked over at Sasaki standing by the door with his back towards him. *Can I really allow myself to be the one overpowered and penetrated tonight?* Although Watanabe was frightened, he knew he owed Sasaki more than a few beers.

An honorable man must take care of his obligations.

He touched Sasaki’s hand, and Sasaki hooked his fingers with Watanabe’s. “Do as you wish, Sasaki.”

“Please, Toshio, call me Umi.”

Watanabe turned out the lights as they left the conference room together.

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