An unexpected romance between a cute male salesperson and a female regional director (Part 1)

Actually, I haven't been on this forum for a while, mainly because I've been busy with work, and also because I've started a family and have a new understanding of the concept of family. Many friends I met on the forum before have been blacklisted by me; I think that's the responsibility a 30-year-old man should have. Coming back to write is perhaps just to express something, unlike before when I had to be very explicit and portray myself as incredibly capable. So this post is probably not suitable for those still feeling "angry." The
story happened a few days ago, and thinking about it now, it might be a bit too emotional.
I work in the Central China region, and after several years, my work performance has consistently been in the top 3. Although I haven't been promoted yet, I'm happy with my freedom. I'm financially secure and can complain whenever I want, which, in a way, is more comfortable than being labeled a leader again. Because of my outstanding performance, I have more opportunities to attend meetings and training sessions. These opportunities are mostly requested based on my own needs, and of course, the boss is willing to pay for them.
Arriving in Nanjing this time, stepping out of the high-speed rail station, I saw taxis of various brands. The most eye-catching were, of course, the Teana and the 508. Only after getting in did I learn that the municipal government planned to upgrade the city's image by improving taxi quality for the Youth Olympic Games. I thought to myself, if everyone bought a Teana, it would be a huge irony for Nanjing.
The training officially started on my second day in Nanjing. I still chose to sit closest to the trainer, disliking hiding in corners and doing B's work from position A (no other meaning). My group consisted of three men and two women. The most noticeable one was a woman who looked to be around 30 years old. I sat opposite her, and if the trainer's lecture didn't suit my taste, I would secretly glance at the beautiful woman.
Later, after introductions, I learned that the two women were from Anhui. I didn't think much of it, assuming they weren't experts judging by their age. Later, the trainer asked us to do communication exercises in groups of three. The beautiful woman and my colleague from Tianjin were paired together, and I remained an observer. After they finished their practice, I, as an observer, began to point out their problems without reservation: "You have such an outstanding appearance, and you were very nice during our chat earlier, so why did you become so stiff when communicating with the client? You ended up on the opposite side of the client from the very beginning..."
Later, during the tea break, I learned she was 35 years old. Another woman in the group quickly added that she was the sales director for their Anhui region. Only then did I begin to pay more attention to this woman whose age and appearance didn't match, and she didn't even have children.
In the afternoon training, the trainer asked our group to simulate recruiting a suitable salesperson. The candidates were the four members of the Tang Monk's group. She and I immediately chose Sun Wukong. She said Sun Wukong had strong personal charisma, and I said Sun Wukong could stand alone. It was then that I realized we might actually have something to talk about.
It was tea break time again, and she asked the Tianjin man sitting next to me about her experience being transferred from a regional director position to the Tianjin headquarters. I could sense her recent hesitation in her words. Other members of the team were also subtly hinting that she should stay in the South China region, as the work pressure was lower and it would be better for having children. I secretly sighed, realizing that even the most glamorous women have their own pain behind the scenes.
In the evening, I had free time. I found a small shop to eat at and then took a walk alone along Xuanwu Lake. I admired the two rows of lush metasequoia trees lining the road, but didn't think much of it; a walk is just a leisurely stroll. As I was walking back to the hotel, I happened to see her eating alone in a restaurant. Thinking about how boring it was to eat alone while traveling for work, I mustered up the courage to go in.
When she saw me sit down opposite her, she asked the waiter to order two more bottles of Snow Beer, as that was all the restaurant had. As classmates, we first drank two glasses of this "fate-breaking" beer. To my surprise, she didn't just politely "sip" it; she also drank it all in one gulp. I don't like hesitant or indecisive women, even if they want to have something happen between us. Like a woman I met on a forum a few years ago, she was strong-willed, not at all pretentious or acting like a little girl, and she was also considerate. But I digress.
She said, "I've changed everything according to your advice. You see, I was much more approachable when I practiced later." I said, "When did I say that to you? I can't remember at all." She said, "How can your memory be so bad? I just remembered that it was just a slip of the tongue." I punished myself with three drinks. I know the rules of drinking parties, and besides, I was willing to drink this time. I said, "Ever since you said I was assertive, I even treated two senior guys from the same region to drinks and asked them if being assertive was a good thing. They both said yes!" She was a little surprised. "Really?" I said, "Yes, because you said I was assertive." She poured herself three drinks and drank them readily.
After that, it was more free-flowing. Since we'd reached a point where we could talk about anything, I boldly brought up the topic of her wanting children, telling her she needed to learn to balance work and life, and even suggested she look up gender prediction charts on Baidu before having children. She asked me why we didn't have children. I said it was mainly because my career needed to stabilize for a while, and my wife was still young, so we had time. No sooner had I finished speaking than three more glasses of wine were placed in front of me. I realized I'd said the wrong thing again; saying my wife was young was essentially implying she was older. I forced myself to drink three more glasses. I said, "Actually, you look no more than 30. When you told me you were 35, I didn't believe you at all." She seemed pleased, but her eyes held a complex look, so I didn't press her for details. We chatted for a while longer, then I suggested we go back to the hotel so the restaurant staff could leave early.
We walked back to the nearby hotel, exchanging only casual words. I was already quite drunk, barely managing to stay conscious. At home, I rarely drink because I drive to and from work every day. We went back to our respective rooms. The third season of "The Voice of China" was on TV, so I casually posted a WeChat status update, commenting on a singer. The main reason was that I was afraid to sleep, worried I'd wake up in the middle of the night drunk and wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. Less than two minutes later, the landline rang. My first instinct was to wonder what was going on. Hadn't the recent crackdown on prostitution supposedly wiped out phone solicitation services? How could they still be so brazen! I answered the phone and realized it was her. She saw I was still posting on social media and knew I wasn't asleep. She asked me to bring a hairdryer upstairs so we could watch some "The Voice of China" together.
I found her floor of the executive suite and saw how far apart the rooms were; I cursed the bureaucracy even in corporations. I knocked on the door and saw her wrapped in a bath towel and her hair in a hand towel. I didn't find it particularly strange; after all, I'm not a young man who gets carried away by every woman he sees. I handed her the hairdryer and watched "The Voice of China" in the outer room while she went to the bathroom to dry her hair. A few minutes later, she came out again with her hair down and still a little wet. She asked me to come to the inner room, saying it was too formal for me to come from the outside. I thought to myself, she's right; if my best friend came to visit, I wouldn't leave him alone outside. So I went into the somewhat dimly lit bedroom and carefully sat on the large bed and the convenient sofa, otherwise it would have been a little awkward.
It would have been better to just sit on the bed. Her underwear was piled on the sofa; it was high-quality silk underwear. I thought to myself that this woman had a good sense of style. Her outerwear was always light-colored cotton or linen, but her underwear was so particular about quality. A little while later, she came out wearing only a towel wrapped around her, having dried her hair. She took a Carlsberg beer from the refrigerator for me, only to realize that her underwear was
right next to me. She blushed slightly, unsure whether to take it or not. I noticed her embarrassment and complimented her, saying, "You have a good eye for underwear. This kind of material is good for the skin, not the kind of synthetic material that's just pretty." Actually, I was just saying it because I was drunk; alcohol emboldens cowards, after all. She relaxed immediately and said, "You pervert! You clearly have lustful intentions but you insist on beating around the bush. It's like 'a cultured rogue is scary,'" and then she reached for the underwear. Just as she picked up her bra, the panties slipped and fell to the floor. I quickly picked them up and handed them to her. Just then, her phone rang in the corner of the bed. She had to shove all her clothes into one hand and use the other to grab the phone. The space between the sofa and the bed wasn't wide to begin with, and with me in between, she deliberately avoided me. Holding her things, she hurriedly answered the phone. She did get through, and it sounded like she was being informed about tomorrow's training location. But the towel wrapped around her was starting to slip. I was originally going to watch her until she finished the call and left, but then I saw the towel swaying precariously down her back.
To be honest, after drinking so much and talking for so long, how could I not have some feelings for her? It was just a matter of self-control. Seeing the towel just about to fall down to her waist, I caught it with both hands without thinking, startling her. She gasped, probably worried the person on the other end of the line might have overheard something. I carefully caught the towel and slowly pulled it up below her shoulders, trying to wrap her up properly. Just then, she finished her call and noticed my movements. She slowly placed her bra and phone on the bed, raised her hands, and let me wrap the towel around her.
But I was still a bit tipsy, and while I tried to be careful, I couldn't figure out how to tuck the last corner of the towel inside her chest. I tried to gently tuck it in, but as soon as I removed my hand, the towel would fall down again. I tried two or three times without success. She was both angry and amused. She simply shoved my hand away and wrapped the towel around herself, saying I did it on purpose.
I panicked a little and said, "If I did it on purpose, I would have just pulled it off. Why bother?" She said, "If you didn't do it on purpose, why are your hands shaking in front of my chest? And look at your crotch, it's bulging like a tent!" I looked down and realized, oh no, I'd forgotten to zip up my zipper when I went to the bathroom. Now my little brother was sticking out of my pants. I quickly apologized and bent down to fix it, but as if things weren't going to get worse, the zipper got stuck in my underwear. I couldn't pull it up or down, and when I tried, I tore a hole in it.
She squatted down in front of me, holding down the bottom of the zipper with one hand and trying to loosen it with the other, muttering, "You men just have this thing in your way." Seeing that she was already trying, I joined in to help her. I held down the top of the zipper with one hand and used the other to pull down her underwear. With each pull, I yelled—I'd pinched my penis! She seemed a little flustered. We tried again; we had to get it working, otherwise, if I left the room like this and someone saw me, it would be hard to explain.
We counted down together: one, two, three. I pulled my underwear in, and she pulled the zipper out. With a clatter, we both sat on the floor. We finally got the zipper out, but it was completely ruined. Even more embarrassing, the ripped underwear pulled my penis out of the crotch, looking like a cannonball. I quickly stuffed it back into my pants, but with the zipper broken and the underwear torn, I didn't know what to do. "Don't stuff it in! Don't worry about ruining it! Just sit still!" I felt like an innocent child. A moment later, she produced a small bottle from somewhere, poured some liquid into her hands, and rubbed it repeatedly.
After a while, she told me to unbuckle my belt. I could only obey like a child. Then, she pinched my torn underwear between her thumbs and forefingers and pulled it off. I felt even more embarrassed. She rubbed her hands together again and gently placed my penis between her palms. A surge of heat instantly made me feel like I needed to pee! She told me to hold back, her hands rubbing up and down with the oil, letting my penis grow bigger and bigger. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer, and I closed my eyes and slowly moaned. This feeling was something I couldn't experience when I wasn't drinking. Her hands moved faster and faster, and I became increasingly unable to control myself. "I can't take it anymore, I'm about to cum!" She ignored me and continued to speed up. I instinctively covered her hands with mine, afraid of getting it all over her face. My heart was pounding. At the last moment, just as I was about to cover her, she was faster. Her lips were already firmly enveloping my unworthy penis. I couldn't help but call out, "Sister!"

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An unexpected romance between a cute male salesperson and a female regional director (Part 1)

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