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Politics Ch. 01

By: hal_tee



Chapter 1: Beginnings 

Erika Johansson smiled that all-knowing smile of hers. The twenty-five year old Swedish beauty was well aware of the contents of the package. Benni always sent the photos in a buff envelope. Watching the delivery boy leap back onto his motorbike, she pushed closed the deep red front door of her London Mews home, allowing a contented sigh to escape from her full lips.

Fixing a loose strand of her long, blonde hair behind her ear, the stunning Nordic woman ripped open the small parcel, tearing the buff paper in her haste. Keeping a recording together with pictorial evidence of all the young women she and her boyfriend seduced had become an obsession.

Boyfriend? She let out a deliciously throaty laugh at the word that passed through her mind. Yes, Alistair Brinkley-Jones was her boyfriend. He was also heir to the Brinkley-Jones fortune. And soon, the Conservative Party leader would be contesting a General Election.

Erika Brinkley-Jones had a nice ring to it. Wife to the first black Prime Minister, to the man who would eventually inherit millions! Okay, she was a long way from that position. Alistair had neatly sidestepped any overtures she'd made in that direction. That was fine – she could be patient. 

That's how she'd reached her position in life after all. Marriage to a sixty-five year-old business magnate had set her up financially. Or, at least, the divorce had. Dennis Irwin had fallen for her charms, but hadn't been able to keep up with her sexual preferences. It was inevitable that they'd part ways. Many people had predicted it from the beginning.

After all, they said, he was a man old enough to be her grandfather! Erika was only too well aware of the reaction. After all, that was part of her plan, right? Only nineteen at the time of their marriage, she knew exactly what she was doing. It had been easy enough to trap the old fool. And it hadn't been that difficult to negotiate an acceptable divorce settlement. Getting him to agree there'd be no pre-nup had been the hardest part. 

But then, he'd been captivated…

It hadn't just been the pre-nup, of course, that had led to Dennis being so generous. With so many incriminating photos, he had no choice. Should their sexual games be made public, hopes of the knighthood he so craved would be shattered. Game, set and match!

A slow smile spread across her sculptural face as she thought back to those times. Men really were such uncomplicated creatures. The smile widened as thought of the enjoyment she'd get watching the CD later. She flicked through the photographs, her tongue dancing across her full pink lips as she recalled her and Alistair's latest conquest. 

Unfiltered and uncensored, the early shots showed off the innocent young blonde's nudity from all angles. The later photos were much more intense, the little slut's face contorted in ecstasy as Alistair fucked her, and then her eager head buried between Erika's golden thighs. 

It had been her first time with a woman, and in truth, she hadn't been that good. But that was okay. It was the whole process of seduction that gave Erika as much enjoyment as the act itself. Turning an innocent into a bi-slut. It was her most favourite feeling in the world. And when she found one who suddenly discovered she'd been born to pleasure women…

God, the thought sent a shiver of excitement all the way to her sex. Though she and Alistair had already fucked that morning, she instantly decided that a second, quick fuck was required.

Gathering the video and photographs in her hand, she stooped to collect the ripped paper from the floor and then hurried through the long hallway, and up the stairs into the bedroom. Alistair was his usual self - rushing around the room as he dressed, worried about being late because of their early morning lovemaking session. 

"Want to see the photos?" she drawled in that sexy Scandinavian accent, leaning in the doorframe and running a hand through her long, glossy hair. Yesterday's visit to the hairdresser's may have been expensive, but it had been more than worthwhile. Besides, money didn't matter. 

"Don't have time," the forty-year-old black politician grunted, shifting uncomfortably at the dressing table chair as he peered into the mirror. He fastened his blue tie in smooth, practiced motions, meeting her eyes in the reflection. "I have a couple of meetings this morning, then have lunch with someone who's going to manage the rest of my campaign. Can't miss that."

"Thomas Kincaid?" she asked, stepping in behind him. She stroked one hand across his shirt-covered shoulder. "Yes, from what you've told me, he's just what we need."

What we need? One of Dennis's parting gifts at their divorce was an introduction to the Conservative Leader. She'd taken it with both hands, gradually inveigling her way into his affections. It hadn't been that difficult, the low cut top she'd worn to their first meeting had seen to that. His eyes had almost popped out. He'd been looking for a PA, and having carried out a similar role for Dennis, she'd been the perfect candidate.

One of the benefits of being Alistair's PA was that she had control of his diary. That often meant hastily rearranging a meeting when the need for sex overtook her. "But lunchtime is a long way off, darling," she continued, "And that first meeting is only with that boring Tom Broadhurst. Who wants to hear about his strategy for cleaning up the riverbanks, anyway?"

As the Scandinavian beauty spoke, she slowly perched her firm ass on the top of the dresser. The short, pinstripe skirt rode up her thigh, revealing a sliver of tanned skin above her nude coloured stockings. If that wasn't more enticing than the Deputy Secretary for the Environment…

Twisting a little on the dresser top as she got his attention, Erika dropped one photo on the glass top in front of her dark haired lover. 

She loved the way he wore his hair slightly longer than he should, and swept it back in an uninhibited way. Her influence, of course. It made him stand out from all those boring politicians he had to deal with. That, and the fact he was black. It seemed that Barrack Obama's success in America had opened the door of acceptability. The country's first black Party leader could soon become the first black Prime Minister.

"More interesting than boring meetings, don't you think?" she teased, glancing down at the image of her and the girl engaged in a heated kiss. She watched his reaction, seeing the desire alight in his eyes like a match to kindling. Her skirt rode up as she uncrossed her legs. It had the desired effect. Alistair looked. Saw the garters holding her stockings up. That flame grew.

The politician felt his cock stir, but tried to push the feeling from his mind. He was already well behind schedule and the car sent to take him to campaign headquarters was due in ten minutes.

"Much more interesting," he answered with a rye smile. "But they'll be banging the door down if I don't get moving. I'll view them later." 

"Really?" Erika responded, with one of her sexiest smiles. Her adorable light blue eyes promised so much when they looked at him that way. "Tell me," she continued, rolling her shoulders back and pushing her chest forward, "can you see my nipples in this blouse? That would never do…" 

Alistair licked his lips as he surveyed the blonde woman's long body. God, he loved the freckles that dotted her face and ran down to cover her cleavage. Even as he watched, Erika was unbuttoning her white blouse, displaying the lacy white bra to his hungry gaze. Slipping to her feet, her skirt quickly followed, uncovering the thong that matched her sexy garter belt and bra. 

She could see the indecision in his eyes. Another fuck, or his early morning meeting? The sexy way she unhooked her bra and allowed her full breasts to bounce free made his decision easier. Like many Scandinavian women, her tanned swells defied gravity, and her high, dark nipples pointed skywards.

With a grunt, he reached out for her. 

"Hey," she playfully teased, pulling away from his grasping hands. She knew exactly what she was doing. Keep him wanting more! It was a technique that was second nature. "You don't have time. And I'm only changing because this might be too provocative for the macho men at Party Headquarters."

She felt his eyes burning into her as she headed across to the bed, dropping the photographs on the floor as she walked. Stripping the tiny thong down her legs, she crawled on the bed like a lioness surveying her kingdom. The sight of her naked, except for the stockings, never failed to turn him on.

"You know I'm flying to France later," she huskily murmured. "But I do have a nice surprise lined up for you tonight."

"Surprise?" He knew exactly what Erika's surprises consisted of. 

"Oh yes," she replied, "don't want you frustrated while I'm away." 

Stretching across the bed, one hand picked up the mobile phone and waved it in the air. The other was already rubbing her smooth pussy. "But for now, Alistair, want me to phone and delay the car and your appointment?"

The black politician hesitated for only a second before he began to rip off his tie and head for the bed.

***

Rebecca de Santos grinned down at her naked lover. Sex on the carpet, or anywhere else for that matter, made a wonderful change from bed. "So," she teased as she rubbed her wetness along his hard stomach. "You have lunch with the Conservative Party Leader. Wants to offer you a job, does he?"

Thomas Kincaid returned her smile. Right at that moment, he was interested in fucking, not talking, but he sensibly allowed his girlfriend to tease him in the way she so loved. The benefits of doing so were only a few seconds away.

"Well, Becky," he responded with a theatrical raise of his pale right eyebrow. "I guess he's heard how well I can service people."

"Is that right?" the raven haired beauty giggled, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his lips before straightening again. Her red fingernails dug into his smooth chest. "Think you can service me to my satisfaction?"

"Never had any complaints before," her golden haired boyfriend smiled, gripping his girlfriend's hips and attempting to force her body backwards and onto his cock.

Rebecca wasn't having any of it. She was the one in control, after all. Her deep brown eyes stared into his. "Hey, buster," she responded, squeezing her knees either side of his thighs to keep him in the position she wanted. "Let me see. You'll be wining and dining, and hobnobbing with the next Prime Minister of England, while I'm putting the 'girls' through their paces at the aerobics class? Doesn't seem fair?"

Thomas grunted as she rubbed her toned ass back along the length of his cock. Everything about the aerobics instructor's body was hard and fit. 

"You…" he began, stopping himself as another low moan involuntarily escaped his lips. "You know you prefer taking that class," he mumbled. "In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that you love that class more than me."

"Oh, you're on to us, huh? Damn…" she laughed. It was almost true. Rebecca loved her work, and was exceptionally good at it too. He'd once made the mistake of attending one, just for fun. Despite his keeping himself pretty fit, he'd ached for days afterwards.

The Brazilian beauty raised both eyebrows. It was that look of hers that told Thomas it was time. Their conversation was at an end. Without another word, she eased herself backwards and with that delicious gasp she always gave at entry, sank down onto his hard cock. 

Throwing her wavy, raven coloured hair back so that it bounced on her shoulders, the twenty-two year old thrust her breasts outward. They looked especially inviting the way they half peeked out from below the red tee shirt, pulled up around the top of her chest. There was just enough visible to remind him of their pear like shape, and the bullet hard brown nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked.

"Like what you see?" she teased, watching his eyes glued to her wonderfully full swells as they gently bounced. 

She raised her hands and ran her fingers into her wavy locks, maintaining the pose as she slowly and gently undulated on his hardness. When her eyes began to cloud, they both knew she was feeling it…

Time for action.

Dropping a hand to his chest, she ground down harder onto his glistening cock. "Look," she ordered, pausing to allow his gaze to sweep down to their union. Beneath her dangling belly piercing, her smooth labial lips stretched lewdly around his thick girth. 

Thomas groaned in appreciation as he ran his palms along her athletic, dark brown legs. He loved her natural sexiness, so comfortable with her body. His fingers stroked her slim legs as the sight of his cock disappearing inside her cleanly shaved pussy intoxicated his mind. God, she was sexy!

"You like?" she softly asked, in that husky accent. 

The golden haired young man nodded, feeling his mouth suddenly grow dry. Being an aerobics instructor, she was in perfect shape. Being Brazilian, she was fiery. It was an irresistible combination. 

His fingernails dug into her flesh. 

Her hips began to respond to his touch, thrusting down and up again in perfect rhythm. She undulated on the cream coloured carpet, driven on by the feelings inside her hotness and the moans she was eliciting from her lover with each down-thrust. She was a wild, uninhibited animal, rutting down on him in long, powerful movements.

Thomas grunted as he thrust up into her, doing his best to meet each powerful undulation. It wasn't easy. Only their grunts and the slapping of their flesh filled the small living area.

"Ngh," he gasped as she leant forward, allowing him to cup the breasts that were now fully exposed. It was a prelude to her orgasm. She loved having her breasts pleasured when she was on the verge. He loved it too - the way her eyes closed and her face creased. In those moments just before she came, he always felt an extra surge inside his balls. 

Thomas kneaded both swells, gently at first, and then harder. "Yes…" she moaned. He flicked his thumb across her erect, brown nipples. Her body shuddered. She gasped - something in Portuguese – her body going stiff. "Uh—" she half-gasped, as the orgasmic tide began to sweep through her. 

"Yes… oh, yes…" Thomas encouraged, ramming himself upwards inside her one final time.

As she exploded, the raven-haired beauty's head fell forward, her silken waves bouncing as they covered her face. Thomas gripped her hips as her body trembled and jerked. Her face dropped to bury itself in his shoulder. She continued to roll her hips along his length, maximising every one of the small electrical currents still running through her.

Eventually, her breathing returned to normal. His turn now.

Thomas rolled her onto her back, positioning his knees inside her spread legs. He was grateful that the shag pile would minimise his discomfort. His knees and elbows were still red from yesterday's session on the bathroom floor.

Rebecca wrapped her long legs around his back, pulling him closer. "Fuck me, Thomas," her husky tone encouraged, her tongue licking around his ear and neck as she groaned out the words. He could feel the firmness of her breasts on his chest. He could feel her nipples digging into his flesh.

He took her hard and fast, the pent up adrenalin inside him driving him to the relief he badly needed. As he felt himself move closer, he drilled harder. She tossed her head left and right, like a porn star being fucked on screen. "Uhhh, uhhh…" she moaned. "Harder… harder!" 

Sweat dripped from his forehead as he responded. Grunts escaped his mouth with each driving thrust. Their eyes met for a second, then Thomas was scrunching his closed, gritting his teeth, as his release closed in.

Recognised the signs, Rebecca tightened her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his heaving ass. "Cum now, Thomas... cum for Becky..." 

He pushed up on his elbows, steadying himself as the thick, creamy cum surged from his balls, through his shaft. He jerked forward, a sweaty beast hulking over his prey, and exploded inside her. 

The feel of his seed peppering her insides triggered her second orgasm. The Brazilian beauty dug her sharp fingernails into his shoulder blades and her heels into his back, lifting her athletic frame from the rug, as if this was one of the more extreme exercises from her aerobics class.

He pumped in and out even as he spent, forcing as much of his manjuice from him and into the sucking beauty. Rebecca responded in kind, gripping him tightly as, for a few final moments, they continued to buck and jerk. 

"Hurry home from your meeting with your politician," she eventually whispered, her pearly white teeth biting down on his earlobe. Her aerobic sessions always left her craving sex. "I haven't finished with you yet."

***

Every day in recent months, the old man in the out-of-place café on the corner of Mayfair and Park Lane had watched the same scene unfold. For the few customers ordering their morning breakfast sandwiches, talk was of the forthcoming General Election. For the South American, British politics was the last thing on his mind.

He licked his thin lips in anticipation of the sight that was coming his way. The cold London winter was over, replaced by the early shoots of Spring. He loved the sudden change in temperature. Gone were the heavy coats and long boots. The women of England's capital finally began to unveil their wonderful bodies. Sexy, tight tops, short skirts, plenty of cleavage. Thank God for Spring - and soon it would be summer! He licked his lips again.

Wiping a dark hand across his brow, the sixty-five year old handed his breakfast order to a young City gent, but all the time keeping his eyes on the silver car. Then it happened. 

The pair of long, sculptured legs appeared…

Their owner, a pale brunette, emerged from her Mercedes with all the grace of a gazelle. But then, she'd done the same for the past few months. The old man's window overlooking her parking place gave him the perfect view, and he made sure he took advantage. God, Miss Katie was sexy.

The immaculately tailored dark skirt rucked up for the moment on the leather seat of the car. It was what the South American had been waiting for. In the heaviest winter cold, she'd worn trousers as part of the suit. Then a long skirt, slit generously to mid calf. Now, the skirt was much shorter. 

As it caught on the seat, it allowed the watching man a clear view of her sexy, black stocking tops and the bare skin above. She'd been his masturbatory fantasy for months now.

He ignored a customer request as he silently watched through the long window. Despite his age, notwithstanding his nationality, there was something about the way Miss Katie looked at him that told him that, given the right circumstances…

"In a minute," he snapped at his young customer as he repeated his order. There was plenty of time to heat the requested croque-monsieur sandwich. He wasn't going to miss a second of the sight unfolding.

Stepping out of the car, Katie Nichols took her time as she ran both of her hands over her pert ass, smoothing the errant skirt back in place. Her cheeky smile across at the old man told him she knew he was watching, and that she was happy enough giving him his usual morning treat.

He sighed in admiration, pushing back the cloth cap on his head into a slightly jauntier angle. Feeding the croque-monsieur into his microwave, his eyes never left the woman as he poured a coffee into the takeaway cup. 

The change in the temperature meant that she kept her suit jacket in the back of the car. Not more than fifteen yards away, he took his time drinking in the generous breasts that pushed against the cream blouse, admiring the way they bounced deliciously as she moved. He was never quite sure whether she wore a bra. The suit jacket she took from the rear of the vehicle tapered down from her athletic shoulders to her deliciously slim waist.


Politics Ch. 01



What he would give for five minutes alone with this one!

Her long chestnut brown hair bounced on her shoulders as she tossed her head back. It framed her beautifully sculptured cheekbones, large eyes and voluptuous mouth. Why didn't women look like that when he was her age? What was she… around thirty? The women were all frumpy when he'd been thirty.

Yes, no doubt about it. He'd be masturbating again as soon as he arrived home later that evening. Watching for the usual, warm smile she shot in his direction before slipping money into the parking meter, he turned back to his young customer, anxious to complete the transaction before Miss Katie arrived. Within a minute, he had him served and was reaching for the sandwich that was his dream woman's preferred choice.

Katie Nichols glanced at her watch. Eight o'clock in the morning was her usual time but today she was a few minutes late. Heading across to the small takeaway café, she felt the surge of adrenalin that invariably lodged in her pussy muscles when she walked in there.

The small, South American owner may have been in his sixties, but he reminded her so much of her first time, all those years ago…

"There you are, Miss Katie," the thin man said, bringing her out of her thoughts as she made her way through his door. She pushed up her large, dark sunglasses, using it like a headband. Her eyes adjusted in time to see him handing her the prepared breakfast wrap. "You shouldn't rush breakfast," he continued, heading for the cappuccino machine. "It's the most important meal of the day. Take your time and eat it here, work can always wait."

"Oh, yes, Eduardo," the psychiatrist laughed, her wide smile hitting both sides of her lush mouth. "I can see that going down well with my patients. 'Don't worry about your problems, I'm having breakfast.'"

For a second, her heart missed a beat as she gave in to the forbidden thought that always lurked at the back of her mind. If she missed an appointment, it wouldn't be because she was having breakfast here. It would be because she was sliding the café owner's South American 'snake' into her mouth, just like all those years ago! The thought sent shivers down her spine.

The sixty-year-old smiled at her as he poured the large cappuccino into the takeaway cup, fitting the top onto it with all the panache of someone who'd been doing the same for the last ten years of his life. 

His smile froze as he glanced at her. It was there again! He could see it in her expression, in the twinkle of those dark eyes. He knew women and this one was, unbelievably, attracted to him. If only he could get her alone...

"Then come earlier for breakfast, beautiful woman," he craftily suggested as he recovered his poise. "I'll open my café just for you!"

Katie felt herself grow moist. It had been some time since she'd had a man in her mouth, let alone a comparative stranger. The thrill of giving head to someone she didn't know was a weakness she just had to live, and cope, with. 

"Can't do that, Eduardo," she answered with a grin, taking the coffee he handed her to go along with the tuna melt wrap. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

"You don't need beauty sleep, Miss Katie. You beautiful enough."

Katie shot him a dazzling smile over her shoulder as she headed for the door. God, why did she keep going there? Was it because he reminded her so much of that man at her prom night?

Walking the short distance to her clinic, she knew what the reaction would be when she arrived. The matronly receptionist would be appalled. She always was when Katie walked in with her bought breakfast. How many times have I told you? I make better coffee than that. And as for that breakfast sandwich… well…

She laughed aloud as she headed towards the plush offices, ignoring the puzzled glances of a passing couple. She'd had a similar conversation with the middle-aged receptionist every single morning. And Diana was right; it was hardly in keeping with their surroundings. 

The Henry Moore sculptures and modernist paintings gave an understated opulence to the state-of-the-art offices and a takeaway breakfast meal had no place there. But somehow, Katie just couldn't break the habit.

The dark haired woman was so fortunate to have gained a junior partnership in the West End psychiatric practice at such a young age. Hard work and determination, yes. But it was an opportunity that had arisen out of the blue and she'd taken it with both hands. 

Perhaps it really was time to dump her early morning breakfasts and act like the professional she was? 

***

The lunch in the House of Commons Members Dining Room had been a treat. Not only had the meal been of a much higher quality than he'd anticipated, but Alistair Brinkley-Jones had been an excellent host. 

The charismatic Tory Party leader had insisted they kept the conversation light until they drove to what he called his Campaign Headquarters. But by the time they'd finished the meal, Alistair knew everything there was to know about Thomas and his background.

Only once they'd travelled across the City to reach their South West London HQ in Millbank, did the Conservative Party leader allow Thomas to ask the question they'd both been waiting for. "Why me?"

The black politician smiled confidently as he lit a fat cigar, allowing the smoke to float into the air like pollution from a chimney. "How many reasons do you want, Thomas? Who was the key man behind the scenes in Tony Blair's second election campaign? No one had heard of you, but Tony is unstinting in his praise. Why did you call it a day after that? You could have had a key job in Government." 

"I'm strictly impartial as far as politics is concerned," Thomas softly responded. "I'd never work in any Government."

Brinkley-Jones laughed. "Impartial? Yes, I heard that. So… that means there's nothing philosophical that would prevent you taking the job I'm offering, I assume? Working for Labour doesn't rule you out from taking a job with the Conservatives?"

Thomas shook his head as he pushed his back against the uncomfortable leather couch. "I work for people, Alistair, not parties. People I believe in. That's what turns me on."

"Yes, I heard that, too," the Tory leader responded with a warm smile. He tapped the ash from his cigar into the clear glass ashtray on the coffee table. "I guess that's why you've been working for Barnardo's these last three years?"

"In a way, yes."

"But you're ready to move on now?"

Thomas shuffled in his seat and took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. "You're remarkably well informed."

Alistair Brinkley-Jones gave one of his trademark grins. "That's what you would expect from someone in my position, isn't it? Why move on now?"

Kincaid ran a hand through his golden farmboy hair before responding. "Not that well informed then," he said, raising his eyebrows in a playful gesture. 

He wasn't usually into scoring points, maybe it was just the thought of getting back on the political bandwagon again? He was playing hard to get, but was only too aware that he was ready for another dose of that unique adrenalin. "I took a three year contract with the Charity, and have delivered everything the project demanded."

"And more, from what I hear," Alistair said with a grin. "My sources tell me that conservatively, you've brought in around five million in that time. Impressive stuff."

"Thanks," the young man modestly responded, almost bashful in his tone. But he wasn't willing to give more away.

Brinkley-Jones just nodded. "And you're ready for a new challenge?"

"Yes, if it's the right one."

"It is," the Conservative leader responded with a smile. Persuading people was his territory. "The country needs you."

Thomas shot him a rueful look. "The country? Or you?"

"Same thing," the dark haired man replied, stubbing out the cigar in the ashtray and pushing forward in his chair. "You know the state of things, Thomas. You're an intelligent young man, everyone tells me that. The country needs a kick-start again. The Conservatives are the party to do that."

Kincaid shook his head. "You're telling me the Tories are that much better than Labour? And Labour tells me they're so superior to the Conservatives! In my view, you're much the same."

It was true. Those were his thoughts. But he left out one crucial element. And Brinkley-Jones wasn't too modest to introduce it.

"The parties may be similar nowadays," he conceded. "Not that I'd admit that in public. But there is a difference and you know it. That's why you're here. You're looking at that difference, Thomas. Given the opportunity, I'm the person who can change things. You know that."

"I do?"

Brinkley-Jones refilled their glasses from the water jug in the centre of the oval table. "You do. Why else would you be here? You do your homework, Thomas, just like I do. That's what makes us both successful. You know I can help this country. So can you. Help me get elected."

The blonde haired young man sighed thoughtfully, glancing around the room. All around them, people were beavering away, extra busy as a result of the forthcoming election. Yet in the small recess at the back of the main room, the two of them were in their own oasis. 

He glanced back at the Conservative Party leader. "Why now?" he simply asked.

Alistair smiled. "I'm sure you'll have worked that out, too," he told the young man. "But if you want to hear it from me, here goes. Because we're neck and neck with Labour. It's touch and go. For the final thrust of the campaign, I need someone to help me. I have a lot of campaigning to do and I have to find a way to take the pressure off. To support me. To handle the press. To come up with ideas. You're that man."

"I'm that man?"

"Yes, and you know that, Thomas. You did it for Tony. You helped him secure a second term. I need you to help me win a first term. There's no one else who can run a General Election campaign like you. I need your skills, Thomas. I need you! Dammit, the country needs you." 

"The country can survive without me, Alistair," the younger man dryly said. "I came here to get a feel for things." 

It was only partly true. Thomas knew that. So, probably, did Brinkley-Jones. The opportunity to play a key part in the election of the country's first black Prime Minister was too good to pass up. Barrack Obama had done such a wonderful job across the pond, and everything the potential new recruit had heard about Brinkley-Jones indicated he was from a similar mould. 

That was high praise!

"Feel away," the Tory leader said, holding out a long arm as he jumped to his feet and executed a three-sixty-degree turn in impressive fashion.

Kincaid's gaze followed the sweep of the arm, staring around the heartbeat of the Conservative Party Headquarters. He'd been so focussed on their conversation; he only now appreciated the sounds going on all around them. The young men and women were different, yet so familiar as they worked the phones and punched the laptops. The main difference was that they nibbled from the platters of fruit scattered around, rather than the junk food being consumed during Blair's re-election campaign.

The memories flooded back, reviving the adrenalin that had lain dormant inside him for far too long. The familiar buzz was exciting, there was no doubt about that.

"So," Alistair Brinkley-Jones said, reminding Kincaid that he was standing by his side. "From that familiar look in your eye, I'd say you were on board!"

"Well…"

"Hey," the black man laughed, picking up a bunch of grapes from a platter on the table behind him and popping one after another into his mouth. "Don't play hard to get, Thomas. This is too important. There's too much to be done. Just tell me you're with us!"

As he spoke, he grasped Thomas's hand in his vice like clench and threw his free arm around the younger man's shoulders. "History, Thomas. Electing the first black Prime Minister is history. Don't you want to be part of that?"

"Is that all it means to you," the golden haired young man asked before he could stop himself. "Just history?"

"Just history?" Brinkley-Jones repeated, a frown covering his handsome features. "For a start, that's very important, my young friend, just as Obama's election was. Just think what message it sends out to the country, to the world. But it's so much more, Thomas. I can influence things. Change things. I can make this country great again. I can do that, Thomas. Others can't. Help me!"

Kincaid smiled. How could you not smile in the face of such rhetoric, such enthusiasm? Instinct suggested this was going to work out well.

"Let me tell you something, Thomas," Brinkley-Jones continued, taking hold of Kincaid's forearm through the dark blue suit sleeve and pulling him back down onto the couch. This time he sat beside him. "Want to know why I'm the right man?"

Kincaid nodded. Listen carefully, he told himself. This has to be more than rhetoric. "Yes, I'd like to hear that, Alistair."

Brinkley-Jones nodded. In that moment, his piercing smile and wavy black hair gave him a movie star look. "Two reasons, Thomas," he said with that toothy smile, right out of some Hollywood blockbuster. "First, I've liaised closely with Barrack behind the scenes. I know what's making his tenure successful. His initial problem was that he came in and learned as he went along. That's tough, y'know?"

Kincaid did know. Tony Blair had confessed the same about his first term. And it had been a rocky few months after his re-election, with the thoroughness of his approach being counteracted by the state of the economy, the state of Britain—hell, the state of the Europe. 

"Surprisingly for a Tory leader, I've been closely in touch with Tony, too." He smiled at the widening of the young man's eyes. "Oh, yes," he confirmed, "Tony and I are good friends. Listen, Thomas, I know what worked for him, and I know what didn't. I know what worked for Barrack when he first took over and what didn't. I have that knowledge through my long conversations with both men…"

"So…" Thomas began, but Brinkley-Jones arm around his shoulder stopped him.

"I don't need to make mistakes to learn lessons," the Tory leader continued. "I'm already ahead of the game, Thomas – I've already learned from Tony's mistakes, and Barrack's too, not that there were too many!"

The listening man nodded thoughtfully. "So Britain is getting another Tony Blair?"

The politician gave one of his engaging little cackles as he uncrossed his legs and swung face on to Kincaid. He peered at him intently, as if he was expecting the younger man to know the answer without answering the question. "No sir, I'm no Tony Blair. Nor am I Barrack Obama, Thomas. Some similarities to both, yes, but we're different people."

"So…" Thomas began again.

"D'you know what I believe, Thomas? I believe I have a great intellect. I believe I have the capacity to persuade, the ability to integrate. What I can do Thomas, is help Britain lift its sights to match my vision. We didn't quite get there with Tony, and Gordon has taken us backwards."

"That's true enough," Thomas acknowledged.

"So tell me, do you want George Blair as your next Prime Minister?"

It was a well-made point. There'd been rumours for some time that Blair had been connected to Dominic DeVere before the businessman's death. All of DeVere's shady dealings had come out after his murder, but despite the whispers, no one had been able to make a firm connection. With George Blair threatening legal action against anyone attempting to link the two of them, that had been that. But still the rumours persisted…

"Come on, Thomas," Brinkley-Jones said. "The country doesn't need George Blair. It needs a fresh start. I can give us one…"

The young man nodded. Given a choice, there was only one way to go. Besides, it wasn't just Alistair's words, it was the way he relayed them. He realised he was suddenly a believer. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, feeling the excitement flowing through him. He was on the team, no doubt about that. But only if he could make a difference.

"Tell me, Thomas," Brinkley-Jones responded with a smile. "What exactly did you do for Tony in that campaign?"

"What did I do?" the fair-haired man repeated. He began to explain the specifics of his role, only to be stopped by the politician's shaking head.

"No," the black politician contradicted.

"No?" Kincaid asked. He was missing something here, but wasn't sure what. Brinkley-Jones helped him out.

"You're telling me your duties," he softly responded. "That's not what I want to hear."

The penny suddenly dropped. "I looked after him," Thomas grinned.

"Exactly!" Alistair almost shouted. "Whatever he needed, you made sure he got. You opened doors. You closed doors. You made things happen. You created the platform that allowed him to concentrate on being elected! All those other pressures, you took away. That's your job description with me, Thomas. Let me concentrate on being elected! Up to it?"

Kincaid smiled. This was what he was good at.

***

Rebecca de Santos was on a high after her morning session with Thomas. Sex always left the young Brazilian beauty that way. It was what she lived for. 

Settling down with the young Englishman had been a major decision in her life. After all, her past wasn't exactly littered with monogamy. So far, it was everything she'd hoped it could be. Thomas was intelligent, funny, sexy, and kept her satisfied in the bedroom. Or anywhere else, for that matter, she had no inhibitions as far as fucking was concerned.

In some ways, she thought of her aerobics class like sex. Working her athletic body to its maximum. Enjoying the illicit sensations that came with the different positions. Watching the contorted faces in front of her as she pushed her regulars to their absolute limits. 

There were some attractive faces there, too. Some of her faithful followers were quite stunning young women. Deus! She'd better not go there again, wondering what it would be like with another woman. Not the best frame of mind when you ran an aerobics class full of them. It was about the only thing she hadn't experienced, but the idea was forbidden in Sao Paulo.

Okay, put that thought out of her mind! Back to work…

The stunning young woman's focus returned to the class in front of her. Time to up the pace. With a grunt, she found another ten percent, adding to their pain as she slipped into top speed. Maybe she was pushing too much, but she felt the need to burn the image of sweaty, naked women from her mind.

Throwing back her raven coloured hair, the twenty-two year old pushed harder, her protesting muscles screaming back at her with each new step. Pain and ecstasy, ecstasy and pain. She had to feel it too, if the class were to believe in her.

"Higher. Get 'em higher!" she insisted in that sexy accent, straining to make her voice heard against the insistent beat of the stereo. 

This was better. She could feel the arousal in her loins, just as she did when anticipating sex. Thomas was in for another treat tonight, but that was invariably the case after one of her aerobic sessions. Deus, she didn't need an aerobics session to fuel her need for sex, but it did make the feeling more acute. 

The airwaves of the small, stuffy gym reverberated with the driving music as she pushed harder, forty pairs of track shoes beating out the rhythm with her. The movements intensified as every woman searched for their deepest reserves of strength to help them through this most punishing of routines. 





Politics Ch. 01



Time to test them even more. "And one and two and three and four—"

Her regulars groaned. They knew from experience that Rebecca was taking them to the top of the mountain and despite the undoubted benefit, there were quite a few who weren't sure if they were going to be able to make it. 

Hands raised, she clapped them above her head as she spread her legs apart and then pulled them together. Glancing at her reflection in the mirrored walls at the back of the room, she smiled to herself. A lustful, knowing, sexual smile. God, she was close to getting off on this.

Other women were watching her too, watching her near perfect body move. That only enhanced the feelings of arousal building inside her.

Half turning so that the curved profile of her ass was like one side of a heart, she swung harder, swinging to the left, then the right. Her tits, impervious to the forces of gravity, pushed out self-confidently against the already soaked multi coloured leotard. Her silky raven coloured hair, bounced perfectly on shoulders that were as athletic as the rest of her body. 

Fuck, she looked hot!

Rebecca pulled her gaze away from her reflection; her eyes picking out the hottest women in the class, identifying which of their stares at her were tinged with pain, and which with arousal. Other than the bedroom, this was her theatre. Moments like this made her feel like a dancing Goddess.

Concentrate, she told herself! These people—all shapes and sizes—were giving their all. She had to focus, stay with them. A moment's loss of attention and all credibility would be gone. So would the numbers who attended. Hers was the only over subscribed class in North London, the only one with a waiting list. It was a matter of personal pride to keep it that way.

"Okay now, knee raising one last time. Go for it now. Feel the pain—" 

Once again the staccato beat rocked the wooden floor of the small gym. Rebecca could see the calories burning before her eyes. Smell them too. The sweat soaked, skin-tight leotards in front of her revealed the contours of the firm, muscular bodies underneath. At moments like this, her fantasy of being with a woman was at its strongest. 

She knew there were a few gazes out there, fixed on her, who were wondering, too. Maybe one day?

"And twenty, now twenty more, and one, and two—"

She was close herself, close to the aerobics nirvana—the exercise high. She was also close to an orgasm. Deus! 

She may have been blessed with the sexiest, most responsive of bodies, but at moments like this it felt anything but a blessing. Her body was suddenly light as she reached the cloud on which she could float forever. If she squeezed her internal muscles, it would take her there, over the edge. 

Yes, like that. Oh, dear God, like that… 

She allowed the climax to wash through her as the music reached its crescendo, the intensity of movement required from the class taking their gazes away from her to concentrate on making the very end of their routine. Allowing the orgasm to ease in the way she'd previously perfected when in front of her class, she regained a semblance of control as the music dipped. 

"Now we ease," she told them, panting hard. "Don't stop, ladies. Keep jogging, but relax now."

Groans of relief greeted her words, but the atmosphere of mutual congratulation was almost palpable. She felt good. They felt good. Her class adored her, respected her. It was incredibly rewarding, and she just loved that feeling. This was what she was paid for, and along with sex, what made life worthwhile.

Somehow she had to find a way of securing the investment needed to start out on her own. To run her own aerobics franchise! It was her dream…

***

The middle-aged receptionist opened the door of Katie's office and peered through the gap. "Your final patient's just telephoned. She's been delayed half an hour."

"Miss Wilkinson?"

"Yes," Diana confirmed, with that 'chewing a bumble bee' look of hers. "Late again!"

"Don't worry," Katie smiled. Thursday night was Diana's evening for visiting her mother. "You don't need to wait afterwards, I'll show her out."

"That woman is never on time!" came a voice from behind the matronly receptionist. Diana pushed the door open and stepped aside. When the Senior Partner was around, she knew it was time to make herself scarce. 

"Still, it gives us time to chat," the heavy set man told Katie, easing his way into the room and sitting down on the chestnut, leather couch opposite the large desk. "Some coffee, please, Diana."

Brian Sterling looked anything but the Scotsman he was, with his slicked back thin grey hair, pencil moustache and Oxford accent.

"So, how are you?"

"Good," Katie grinned. There was something about the smart, stuffy Senior Partner that appealed. Ever since she'd had that dream of sucking his cock. But then, she often had that sort of dream…

The Senior Partner smoothed his immaculate, grey business suit as he grinned up at her. Like most men who looked at Katie Nichols, his eyes were filled with affection and a tinge of lust. Even at his age. Retirement wasn't that far away. 

He'd felt that way ever since he'd employed her, and there was no doubt her physical appearance had been a factor in his decision. It went against the grain, and many years of experience. But she had that sort of effect on men. He couldn't deny that. Still, her references had been compelling, and they had been enough to allow him to disguise the real reason behind her appointment.

Since then, she'd proved her worth many times over, progressing favourably to his mentoring and gradually developing her wider business knowledge. He regarded her as the most valuable member of his team, despite her position as the junior partner, an anomaly he intended rectifying before too long.

"You look good today," he told her, as Diana returned with their decaffeinated coffee. "You know how much I love you, I hope." 

"I know," Katie laughed. Brian was the ultimate flirt.

"I know, too," Diana chipped in as she placed the coffee tray on the side table. "But half the practice is in love with Katie."

"True," the sixty-year-old Scot laughed. "The difference is, it's your mind I'm after, Katie, not your body."

"Hmmm," the matronly receptionist smirked, handing each of them a china cup and saucer. "That's what all the males in the office say…"

"Bye, Diana," he dismissed her, his warm smile following the receptionist as she threw her head back and left the office.

Katie picked up the silver coffee pot and filled both cups, then perched herself on the corner of her desk and took a sip from hers. "Forgive me, Brian, but you've never been one for small talk. Was there something specific?" 

"That's my Katie, never beats around the bush," he said, flashing that confident smile of his. "Just a word about your final patient. She's always late, treats our staff like dirt. Do we really want her on our books?"

There was only one answer. "She pays well, and on time."

Katie watched the overweight man nod his head as he drank from his cup. She knew only too well how much clients' fees counted with him. They were food and drink to the practice.

"Mmmm… you make a compelling argument, my dear," he growled. 

Katie smiled as she shifted position on the desk, swinging her long legs almost absent-mindedly under his gaze. But the move was calculated. Some distraction was necessary! Angela Wilkinson was an important client and that income maintained her reputation as the practice's best fee earner.

"Okay, okay," he continued, somehow pulling his eyes away and easing up from the couch. "Just make sure she behaves a little better, will you?"

"I will," she grinned, grateful for the small victory.

Shifting position again, she allowed the Senior Partner a better view of her dark stocking tops as he headed for the door. Wanted her for her mind? Bah humbug! Despite his age, Brian Sterling was just like any other man she'd met. And she knew exactly how to handle them. 

What would he do if she slid to her knees and enacted her dream, she wickedly wondered as he left? Damn, what had brought that back to the forefront of her mind? What was it about a man's cock that had brought about her… problem? She didn't need to ask the question, of course.

The first time it had happened had been at her prom night. Her date had been everything any girl could want—handsome, clever, articulate, and the captain of every sports team in school.

It would never have worked, of course. Even then, Brad was beginning to find men as attractive as women. Since then, the Jets quarter back had enjoyed a couple of well-publicised liaisons before settling down with the love of his life, a fifty-year-old music impresario.

Prom night had been beautiful and barmy. She remembered it like it was just last week, not a dozen years ago. She remembered how scandalous her green, sequined dress had been. It was the strapless top of the slinky gown that caused her mother to fret, and the way her already deep, creamy décolletage spilled forth. It was also the night that Katie discovered she had hidden desires of her own, tastes that still haunted her.

Brad had spent much of the evening table-hopping and talking to the male teachers. With her efforts to look as beautiful as she did wasted, Katie had strolled out onto the lawn that bordered the parking lot in disgust. 

Leaning against the fender of one of the more expensive cars was one of the gardeners, a five-foot, wispy moustached Costa Rican old enough to be her father. Smoking a cheroot, his crumpled white shirt open to his waist, something about the way he had looked at her hit Katie in the stomach. 

By no stretch of the imagination could the swarthy-skinned man have been considered attractive, and yet there was some attraction there. The forbidden…?

Making her way down the path, Katie had stared defiantly back, watching as the diminutive, thin-as-a-rake man took a long draw of the cheroot, blowing the smoke high so that it spiralled away into the evening air. A half smile on his face, he had practically dared her to walk closer. 

The look in his eye had been one that she'd seen many times in the boys at school, particularly when she was in her cheerleader uniform, or dressed for the gym. She'd recognised it so well. But the hormone deficient boys her age had engendered nothing like the feelings of sexual arousal that this old feller had. God, the thin, grubby looking Tico must have been sixty, at least, and even now, years later, she felt a shiver pass through her.

She'd walked deliberately out of her way to make sure she passed near to him, knowing that he'd realise that, too. Let him see the goods. Let him see the way her already full breasts were squeezed into her slinky gown. What he couldn't have. When his gaze had run all over her, making no attempt to hide the desire in his eyes, she'd felt a surge of heat run through her loins.

It was a sensation as strong as she'd felt in any of her passionate embraces with Brad. It was stronger, different. Now, after years of training, she knew it was the danger, the illicitness of the situation that had created the arousal. Back then, she'd just been drunk with lust.

Katie remembered feeling faint as she'd walked closer. Allowing this wiry old man's eyes to undress her in the semi darkness of the parking lot, while the party went on in the building behind her, had been exhilarating. She had taken a risk, approaching him this closely, but that thought had only enhanced her arousal.

The sensible option would have been to turn back to the path and return to the safety of the party. The other, heart-stopping alternative, had been to… to…

Without speaking, the narrow eyed gardener had extended his right arm as she drew level, as if offering the cheroot to her. It had been enough to make her hesitate. Before she'd gathered her thoughts, she'd found herself standing in front of him, so close that she could see the little rivulets of sweat on his bared chest.

She'd brazenly taken the proffered cheroot as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She took a long drag, blowing the smoke skywards in the same way that she'd seen him do. The tobacco, if that had been what it was, had a strong, heady flavour to it, causing her to cough uncontrollably as the unexpected taste hit her lungs.

"Ees good," the little man had growled, amusement in his eyes. "You need drink?"

Katie nodded, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand while the other rubbed across her stomach. Tears had collected in her eyes from the after-taste of the smoke in her mouth. The half drunk bottle of water he'd handed her lasted only a few seconds as she gulped it down.

"Wanna see Costa Rican snake?" he'd breathed, his narrow eyes watching every expression on her face.

"Snake?" she'd gasped.

"Yes. You frightened?"

"No," she'd lied, pushing a strand of coiled hair back into place. "Of course not."

"Good," he'd grinned. "Wanna see my snake?"

She remembered nodding, wondering why he had a snake…

When his small hands had dropped to his belt-less white trousers, she'd suddenly understood. Turn and run, she'd told herself, but her feet had become glued to the spot. The Tico had dragged his zip down before pushing his trousers to his knees, his boxers quickly following.

Katie remembered the wave of physical desire that had swept through her, an almost blinding rush of unbridled lust, as the gardener's long, thin cock had been revealed. She dreamt of it. He had been already half erect.

Leaning back against the bonnet of the car, he'd stroked himself. "You want?" he asked. "Costa Rican snake very powerful. When you play with the Costa Rican snake, its spits venom." 

Katie had moved forward automatically, her eyes glued on the long cock. Sinking to her knees, she came—hard—as soon as she had him between her lips. The pale young brunette didn't stop sucking until the Costa Rican snake had spit load after load of its venom into her eager mouth.

Life would never be the same again.

***

Despite having fucked Thomas as soon as he'd returned home, Rebecca was ready for more. They'd enjoyed their light evening meal with a celebratory bottle of champagne and she had raised the idea of them considering an open lifestyle again. He wasn't impressed!

"Open lifestyle? You mean fucking other people. Aren't I enough for you?"

"Of course you are," she'd replied, as she always did, letting the subject drop. 

She had mentioned it three times over the past few months but had always received the same reaction. Quite why she was feeling the need for more sexual freedom right now she wasn't sure. Yes, her lifestyle in Brazil had been not exactly been monogamous, but since settling down with Thomas, she'd thought she'd put that behind her. She'd fallen in love after all.

Somehow she needed to resist the occasional urges that seemed to flutter through her body when she saw a particularly hot guy. She didn't need that, did she, not when she had Thomas fucking her as wonderfully as he did.

"So, you think this guy will win the General Election?" she asked, changing the subject as she pushed her golden haired boyfriend down on the couch. She almost devoured his mouth with her own before allowing him to answer.

"Well," he mumbled, kissing her again while cupping her tits through the thin dressing gown she'd been wearing since their lovemaking session. "The polls have the Conservatives a couple of points behind Labour, so it'll be touch and go. But you should hear this guy, Becky. He talks sense and he has the country at heart. He really believes he can make a difference!"

This time her kiss was softer. "Don't they all?" she murmured into his mouth. "Isn't that the whole point?"

"Maybe," he answered, kneading her breasts in that way she liked. "But occasionally someone comes along and grabs you by the balls…"

"Like this?" she asked, cupping him through his black boxers. "Mmmm, and do you always grow like that, Thomas Kincaid, when someone grabs your balls?"

He squirmed slightly as her hand moved onto his cock, playfully squeezing his long shaft. "Geez, Becky," he grinned, releasing her tits and pushing his ass upwards. "You're always this way after a class. Can't you take more than three a week?"

The way her hand left him and she eased her body across his thighs told him his thrusting hips had her attention. "No, I can't get more," she said, breathing faster as her excitement built. "But I've been thinking, Thomas, I want to buy my own place, set up my own business."

"Oh, yes…" he began. It wasn't the first time they'd had this sort of conversation.

"I'm serious," she insisted, momentarily putting aside her sexual need and cupping his face in her hands so that she could stare into his eyes. "Most of my regulars tell me they'll come with me if I start up on my own…"

"You've talked to them about it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "How do you think your employer's will take that if they find out you've been soliciting business from their customers?"

"Oh, fuck off! Don't be such a wimp!" she exclaimed, throwing both arms into the air in that Brazilian way of hers. "Do you always have to think so logically? Is that why the Conservatives want you? I haven't solicited anything. They told me, Thomas. They're always suggesting it."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts," she told him, her brown eyes blazing in line with her rising voice. "They all say the same thing. They've been to a few different classes in London and mine is the best by far. We only had half attendance when I took over and now – look at the waiting list."

"Then why don't you put on more classes?"

"Damn, Thomas, I've told you this before," she almost shouted. "Because the bloody fools won't let me!"

"I know… I know…" he soothingly told her, hugging her into his body. 

She wasn't going to be denied.

"Look," she said, trying to control her annoyance. "Things are going well and I love what I do. I'm very lucky. But I want to do this full time, Thomas. You know I've offered to buy out the franchise, but I can't even afford that. So what happens? That bastard Tommy Fargo keeps paying me peanuts in the knowledge that my dedication will keep me there."

"Yes, but…"

"No fucking buts," she shouted, her Brazilian accent becoming thicker as her annoyance increased. Why did he never understand? "Look, he doesn't appreciate me and when I've had enough, he'd find someone else. And it'll go back down the pan again. If I had my own business, I could double the number of classes and still be oversubscribed. The demand is definitely there. I'd reduce the fees, too. It's ridiculous what Tommy charges. The bastard is taking advantage of my popularity. He has a little goldmine there, there's no need to rip me off, or his clientele, either."

"I'm not against the idea," Thomas told her, reaching up to affectionately stroke her cheeks in an attempt to calm her. "You know that, Becky. I'm aware how much it means to you and I want you to set up on your own. You'll be fabulous. But where do we get the thirty thousand pounds from?"

The beautiful Brazilian went quiet. She'd been to every bank with the idea, but no one was prepared to back her. The economic climate was all wrong for that type of business, the fools had said. Why couldn't they see that it was a sure thing? It was so obvious…

"I don't know, Thomas," she said, quieter now. One hand went to her dressing gown, pulling it open to expose her full breasts. The other went to the back of his head, pulling his mouth to her erect nipple. "All I know," she continued, letting out a small moan as his lips went to work, "Is that I want to take control of my future, not be jerked around on that loser's string!"




Politics Ch. 02



Chapter 2: The Charity bash

Thomas failed dismally to disguise the yawn. "Sorry, Sally, no offence."

The petite redhead grinned. "That's okay, we've been at it since six this morning. That makes it a long day. And with tonight's charity bash, it'll get a lot longer before we're home in our beds."

The fair-haired man nodded. In the week since he'd been working for Alistair Brinkley-Jones, they'd all been long days. Today had been no different, ten hours of slog, understanding everything he needed to understand.

He was grateful for the way Sally Howitt had shown him the ropes. The thirty-two year old PR Manager had worked for the Conservative Party leader for three years, and today's final briefing brought him fully up-to-date with everything there was to know.

Sally had given her time willingly, grateful herself for some support in the final weeks of the election campaign. The redhead seemed to know everything there was to know, and she was also about the only person on the team who wasn't in awe of Erika Johansson.

"You've noticed that, have you?" she laughed, as she and Thomas retired to the conference room for a break. The smiling woman unscrewed a bottle of Diet Coke. "Yes, Erika does have this thing about her. She rules Alistair's diary with an iron fist, and woe betide anyone who gets on the wrong side of her. But at the same time, she's fun to be around, and is as sexy as hell."

As sexy as hell? Was that a phrase that women used to describe one another?

"Knows her stuff, too," the PR Officer told her puzzled colleague, before he could ponder further. She pulled her chin-length red hair onto the top of her head with one hand, allowing it to fall back again as she took a swig of the drink. "And is astute as they come. My advice is not to get on the wrong side of her. Whatever it takes, stay in tune with Erika. Life will be a lot easier, I promise!"

"You know she wants to see me?" Thomas asked. Her week out of the country had delayed their introduction until this afternoon. Any time now, in fact.

Sally laughed that little girl laugh of hers. "Of course, she does. Likes to run the rule over anyone new. Look, Thomas, don't think of her as Alistair's girlfriend. Nor as his PA. Think of her as the woman with the most influence around here. That way, you won't go far wrong."

The new Campaign Manager nodded thoughtfully, tossing a hand through his golden, farmboy hair. "You've been spot on with everything so far," he told the redhead, "but this advice sounds like the best of all. I'll tread on eggshells around Erika, I promise."

"No, don't do that," Sally shook her head. "Treat her as an equal, it's the only way. Just... keep what I've told you at the back of your mind. What time's your meeting with her?"

Thomas watched the redhead take a sip from the coke and grabbed one for himself from the end of the table. "Five minutes ago," he winced, glancing at the round clock on the wall above their heads.

Sally's eyes followed his. "There's only an hour until Guus Kessen arrives. How the hell did you set that one up so quickly?"

"Contacts," Thomas replied with a grin, swigging back another mouthful. "I've got it all set up."

"Shouldn't you be involved?"

"Possibly," he answered, screwing his face up in indecision. "But I explained to Guus that I'd let him speak to the main man without any influence from me. But I'm pretty confident that if Alistair plays his cards like I've briefed him, that'll be another million donation in the coffers."

Sally's knowing laugh put him on the back foot for a second. "I'm sorry," she apologised, sliding her hand across her mouth to hide the grin that creased her glossy, red lips. "But if you've briefed Alistair, he'll perform even better than you could imagine. That man's a dream!"

***

"So good," the panting blonde grunted, her sexy Scandinavian accent filling the room. "So good!"

Erika Johansson's hands gripped her boyfriend's hair, urging him on. The sight of his head working between her legs never failed to excite her, though not quite as much as the feel of his talented tongue. 

Her gaze fell on the blouse she had pulled up round her neck, then onto the tits she'd yanked out from the bra. They gently bounced in time with the thrust of her hips into his face. The trousers of her fashionable black suit were pushed down to her ankles, along with the sexy black boy shorts.

Getting Alistair to give her head in the chestnut coloured leather chair beside his desk had been a sudden whim. Particularly as she was meeting the 'new boy' any moment. But it was an urge the Scandinavian beauty couldn't resist.

"Yes, yes, yes, like that! Just there… just there…" she gasped through gritted teeth

Raising her hips, she threaded her fingers through Alistair's natural, wavy black hair. He'd need to comb it again before they met the millionaire and secured another donation. Thomas was off to a good start, much better than either she or her boyfriend had expected. 

Maybe he'd be as good in bed as he was at his job? 

With each moan Erika gave, Alistair became bolder. She'd trained him well. She hadn't locked the door, and knew the danger fuelled his excitement. Feeling his tongue harden, the blonde beauty yanked his head away from her clit. Gratifyingly, he began to tongue fuck her just the way she'd taught him. 

"Oh, yes," she croaked, pulling on his hair in delirious delight. Her legs widened until she could take no more. "My clit," she moaned, "back to my clit…"

Alistair grunted as he obeyed her urgings. His mouth sought out the slippery clitoris and took it inside. Erika smiled to herself, enjoying the power she was exerting almost as much the pleasure. Twisting slightly, her hands went to her tanned swells, pulling on the high, dark nipples that pointed skywards.

Letting out a series of grunts, the Scandinavian woman's hips began to thrust back in rhythm with the flicking tongue. Wave after wave of arousal raced directly to the pleasure centres of her brain. 

"Nearly there," she groaned, a thin film of perspiration glossing her skin as her body began to quiver. "Don't stop, Alistair, don't stop, don't stop—" 

Her voice was hoarse. Unsteady. She felt feverish. What would the media give for a picture of them right now? What would anyone of their staff say if they burst into the room? Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh fuck…

Her body stiffened. She began to pant. Short, sharp breathes. She began to shake, at first barely noticeable. It grew. Faster and faster, it grew. She jerked up, forcing more of her sex into the black face. "Ohhh… fuuuuuuck………"

***

"Tell me about the dinner tonight," Thomas asked as he glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes. Erika was quarter of an hour late now, and Kessen was due there in forty-five minutes.

"A charity bash," Sally grinned. "Big event. George Blair and his lot will be there. So will Paul Collinson and his cronies, not that we're bothered too much about them."

"We're bothered about everyone," Thomas told her, though he knew as much as anyone that the Liberal Party were a spent force. Still, Paul Collinson was a good guy, and could do them damage if they underestimated him.

"True," Sally responded, with that child-like grin. "But it's Blair who we need to knock back. He's been gathering some momentum in recent days."

The golden haired man nodded. Quite how the controversial Labour Party leader had done it, he wasn't sure, but this morning's poll had a three-point difference between the parties. Not good.

"Anyway," Sally added, slipping up from her chair as she stared over his shoulder and out of the glass Conference office screen. "The moment of truth has arrived…"

"Thomas," Erika Johansson murmured as she entered the Conference room before he had time to even swing his head round. "So sorry, but Alistair and I had something to finish off."

"I'll be going," Sally smiled, "but don't forget that Guus Kessen is due in—"

"Forty minutes!" The young Swede chuckled as she finished the sentence for the redhead.

"Okay, okay," Sally said with a grin, pushing her way through the open door. "I should have known better than to think you'd forgotten."

Erika watched her go, and then swung back to the watching man. "Hey, Thomas," she said, holding out her hand. "We meet at last."

Thomas took the proffered hand, but instead of shaking it, the blonde used her grip to pull him closer and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed instantly. The unexpected kiss and waft of perfume caused an instant twitch between his legs. 

God, how long was it that a woman had given him an instant reaction, other than Becky, of course?

But then the Scandinavian beauty had swung away again, taking a seat across from him. Her adorable pale blue eyes indicated that Thomas should sit opposite. That way she could keep an eye on the activities in the office beyond the glass screen, as well as observe the fair-haired Campaign Manager. 

"So…" she began, putting an extra growl into that Scandinavian accent.

Thomas waited for her to continue, before realising she was expecting him to speak. So? What did 'so' mean? He shifted slightly on his chair. He was being tested, without much to go on. For someone so young—twenty-five, Sally had intimated—she certainly had a presence about her.

When she adjusted her position slightly, he realised a button was open on her blouse, allowing him the undeniably sexy sight of her lacy black bra. Another test? Should he tell her, or respectfully ignore it? 

Shit, the blonde stunner had only been in the room for two minutes and already he was second-guessing himself.

"You up for this?" he heard her suddenly ask, as if she was taking pity on his confusion.

"I am, Erika." His reply was confident, decisive. 

Erika nodded, stretching one arm along the back of the chair. The gap in her blouse widened. "Good start," she smiled. "Long days, so you're not a slacker. And Kessen's a pretty good introduction, if everything I've heard about this self made millionaire is true."

Thomas smiled. "Multi millionaire, Erika. And it'll be a good day's work to get Guus Kessen on board. Not just for the money, as welcome as it is. He'll be a powerful ally, too."

She nodded thoughtfully. "How did you convince him to support us?"

His smile widened. "I worked with him at Barnardo's. He sponsored the project I was heavily involved with and we spoke about many things, including his political beliefs."

"I thought he was Dutch?"

"He is," Thomas acknowledged, leaning forward as he warmed to the conversation. "But he's lived in England a long time and this is where he made his money. Like most people, he realises the country is in trouble. And I know for a fact that the recent problems with MP expenses have sickened him. I called him after I first met Alistair last week, and told him I'd met someone I believed in. Someone who could change the political climate for the better."

Erika nodded. She'd heard all of this from Alistair, but it did no harm to double check that the new recruit was telling them both the same thing. 

Thomas was only too well aware her eyes hadn't left him throughout his explanation, and he finished the half drunk bottle of coke to ease his dry throat. Why did the young woman make him so nervous?

"Alistair is brilliant," she simply said, as if that explained everything. He could have responded, but it wasn't a statement that seemed to call for one. It was simply a declaration of the obvious. "He's going to win."

That was an interesting follow up. Not we're going to win. Or the Conservative Party is going to win. He's going to win! 

"It'll be very close," he calmly told the stunning blonde. He didn't know her well enough yet… and there wasn't any room for complacency.

"I know," she agreed, feeding him that beaming smile. "But Alistair will find a way. He has good instincts. He has a good team. And he has fate on his side."

"Fate?"

The beautiful Swede laughed. Her self-confidence was astonishing in someone of her age. Was she really only twenty-five? "I believe in fate. I believe in Alistair. And now you're here, Thomas. I believe in you."

He sat up proudly. It was a bit like a teacher telling a child he'd done well. Her endorsement made him feel good. Shit, he was ten years older than this woman, and yet she had him feeling like a little puppy, wagging his tail at her approval.

"Sally is wonderful," Erika continued. "A Godsend. But Alistair and I need more support. We have a great team, but I need someone we can trust, someone on a similar intellectual level. I need someone to support me in looking after him. You're that man."

The change in emphasis from 'we' to 'I' wasn't lost on Thomas, but despite the way she was establishing control, he wasn't going to ask the obvious question as to whom he was working for. Think of her as the woman with the most influence around here, Sally had said. That way, you won't go far wrong.

"Looks like your man is here," she lazily told him before he could carry the conversation back to her. He followed her intense blue eyes as they flicked over his shoulder, swinging around to follow her gaze.

"That's him," he confirmed, rising from his seat. "I'll go and say, hello."

"I'll get him," she contradicted him, gracefully easing herself up from her seat. "Was it your or Guus's decision not to involve you in the meeting?"

Another test? "I told Guus I wouldn't," Thomas explained, refusing to bite. "That way he can make up his own mind without fear of influence. I promised him that."

Erika nodded. "Very sensible, too. Why don't you and Sally head home to get changed? You've both had a long week, from what I hear. I'll brief you on the result of the meeting at tonight's dinner."

"Okay," Thomas quickly agreed. Becky had been pretty pissed with him when he left at five this morning. This morning? Every morning since he'd taken on the job. An earlier finish might help, and would give him time to collect some flowers on the way home. He badly needed the brownie points.

"By the way," he added, pausing at the door and then nodding at her blouse. "Just to warn you, a button seems to have come undone."

"I know," she told him, in a matter of fact way. "Thanks for telling me, but it took you long enough. Very naughty, Thomas…"

***

Rebecca de Santos pushed her class harder. "And more, ladies! One, two, three, four… Come on, push it, go that extra mile… work those bodies."

In truth, she'd pushed the class a little too hard. She always did when she was this frustrated. Not that they objected. It was good for them. Her too. Forced her irritations out of her hard, athletic body.

And there were plenty of those to force out.

Thomas hadn't had time to fuck her that morning. His new job was taking up more of his time than even he'd anticipated. Did he really have to leave home that early every morning? What about her sex drive?

Telephoning every bank she could think of in an attempt to secure funds for her desire to buy her own aerobics studio hadn't helped her mood. "Get a business plan," they'd told her. Then they might deign to give her an appointment. But the sort of money she was looking for was out of the question. They all said the same.

And if that wasn't enough, Thomas was heading out to one of London's biggest charity dinners tonight, and hadn't manoeuvred her an invite. It would have been a nice treat to get all dressed up and spend the night on his arm. But one thing she'd learned about him was that unless you were a client, Thomas could be pretty thick at times. Maybe when she made her success with her business, she could hire him for the express purpose of servicing her.

And with those thoughts, her frustrations returned.

She reacted in the only way she knew how: she pushed her class even more.

In front of her, the tortured bodies twisted and strained as they fought for physical release. She had a spectrum of women, all intermingled. Boring gym-ware mixed with designer leotards; grubby sneakers working alongside expensive trainers; cheap haircuts and glamorous hairstyles both gone unkempt and sweat stained.

They were all beautiful to Rebecca. Beautiful in the grunts and grimaces.

Of course, some were more beautiful than others, she thought with a blush. The slackers formed themselves at the back. The triers were confident enough to take middle positions. And the confident ones—the sexiest ones—invariably positioned themselves in the front row.

Sammi, the blonde cutie from Essex, gave her that look again. That 'Sammi look.' The one that said, I'm part of the first completely bi generation and I'd fuck you given half a chance. The young woman's blonde hair danced on her freckled shoulders, those wonderfully thick nipples tantalisingly on show as they pressed against the front of her sweat-stained leotard.

And then there was Brooke, a dark haired model with the most alluringly tight body. She had been coming to the class for a few weeks now and was like a ball of energy. There were times when even Rebecca felt it hard to keep up with her.

Her eyes swept across to Julian, who stood out to her not only because he was the only male in her class, but that he was also devastatingly beautiful. He always wore tight fitting micro fibre shirts that showed off his thick arms and toned upper body. At first, she'd assumed he was gay, but after she'd caught him looking at her ass more than a few times, she'd quickly dispelled that notion.

It was moments like this when Rebecca felt at her weakest, frustration circling around her body, pent up sexual arousal flowing through her veins. If she ever were to stray, fuck someone other than her boyfriend, it would be during a moment like this. The sexual morality of the English always amused her - after all, it was only sex! In Brazil, no one made it that big a deal.

Her focus returned to the class again as she pulled back from her thoughts. Sammi was smiling coyly at her, her tongue playfully darting along her lips. After sending a non-committal smile in her direction, the raven-haired beauty turned her attention away from the blonde hottie and concentrated on the end of the routine.

It wouldn't take much effort to drive herself to orgasm. She'd start to feel much better after that. 

***

"Alistair," the overweight man said, firmly grasping the Conservative leader's hand. "I've enjoyed meeting you. You too, Erika," he smiled, swinging around to kiss the blonde on both cheeks. "You have my support." 

"I'm very grateful," Brinkley-Jones grinned, sliding his arm across the large man's broad shoulder. "Thomas told me what an impressive man you are, but I think he understated the fact!"

The businessman was nobody's fool. "Now, Alistair, you have my support. Let's not overdo things. But let me tell you one thing," he added, looking from one of them to the other. "I was told you believe in employing the best. You've hit the jackpot with Thomas. He's an impressive young man."

"Young man?" Brinkley-Jones joked, as he held the clear glass conference door open. "I'll tell him that, Guus."

Erika joined in the laughter. "Don't forget you've got to make that call," she reminded Alistair. "Guus and I will finish our coffee before he goes. I hope that's okay?" she added, her pale blue eyes sparkling at the Dutchman.

"Most certainly," the big man answered, the last word coming out as shertainly as his clipped Dutch accent kicked in.

"Of course," the politician beamed, wondering what Erika was up to. There was no call to be made, but if she wanted time alone with the Dutchman, he knew there'd be a good reason.




Politics Ch. 02



"'Til next time," he said, gripping Kessen firmly by the hand again before leaving the conference room. 

Erika smiled at the overweight man. The million pound donation was theirs. And Kessen had definitely bought into the campaign.

The meeting had progressed even better than she'd anticipated. Alistair was always superb on occasions like this, his powerful convictions guaranteed to win over the vast majority of interested parties. He'd used Thomas's briefing as a basis for the meeting, but had stamped his own personality on it from the first minute. 

Then there was her contribution. It hadn't taken long for the Scandinavian beauty to sense Guus Kessen's taste in beautiful women. Most women had a sixth sense about these sorts of things, and hers was rarely wrong. The way his eyes had instantly devoured her throughout the meeting had confirmed the fact.

She could use that to her advantage. This was a multi millionaire after all. Experiences to date had told her never to miss an opportunity, and where there wasn't one, get creative! 

Moving chairs so that their knees touched, she resumed the flirting that had started an hour earlier. Her hand touched his arm. With his curly, black hair and bright smile, the self-made multi millionaire presented a larger than life image. Add the charcoal grey suit, red tie and crisp white shirt, he looked every inch the successful businessman he was. 

It was a shame he was so heavily overweight, but then, some sacrifices were necessary if you had your eye on the bigger picture.

"So, Guus," she smiled, stroking her fingers along his suit covered arm. There was little time to spare before tonight's dinner, but this was an investment worth making. "Tell me about Thomas. You've known him long?"

"A couple of years," the Dutchman smiled, resting his hand on hers. "He got me to buy into the Barnardo's project. And quite a few other's, too. He's quite a persuasive young man. Tenacious, too."

Erika laughed, shuffling closer so that her breast pressed against his forearm. "Just what we want for our final push. There's a lot of work to be done. As Alistair said earlier, we're three points behind according to the latest polls."

"Get him to involve his girlfriend," the large man responded. "With the exception of present company, she's the best looking woman in London. She came along to a couple of functions. It helps to have some eye candy when you're looking to oil the wheels, don't you think?"

The Swedish woman's laugh filled the room. She and the Dutchman spoke the same language. This could be an interesting relationship.

***

The white wine slid deliciously down Katie's throat. She adored moments like this, soaking in her long bath with a chilled glass of Chablis, and small candles circling the bathtub. It felt decadent somehow.

Regrettably, she didn't have too much time. Why was Brian insisting that she accompany him to the charity bash? She didn't like thinking of herself as simply eye candy? She wasn't borne to simply dangle off any man's arm. She realised it helped when networking, though it was beyond her why he wanted to network in the first place?

They had a successful business model. They didn't need any more help.

Maybe he just wanted to spend time with her out of the office? He'd hinted at that before, though had never gone through with it. Katie was unsure how she felt about that, though the sensations running through her body insisted she wasn't averse to the idea. Perhaps tonight would be the night she made her dream come true? Suck his cock on the way home?

The ridiculous thought turned the tingle up a notch. Instantly, her mind jumped from Brian to Eduardo. The café owner must be sixty if he was a day, but reminded her so much of the Tico at her Prom night. Just the thought of taking the elderly South American's 'snake' from his trousers and sliding it into her mouth made her body shiver despite the warmth of the bath…

Oh, God! Maybe she should call in to see him tomorrow? Tell him she couldn't purchase her breakfast from him again? Brian had personally taken her to task about it again today! Perhaps she should time her visit just as he opened? Without any customers there? Then…

Replacing her glass of wine on the edge of the tub, she slid her hand downwards, across her flat stomach and down into the juncture between her legs. Brushing her fingers through her dark bush, she found her swollen clit. The aroused woman imagined what it would be like to suck the café owner to orgasm. Swallow his seed the way she had with the Costa Rican.

Her breath caught. She was so close, yet… Damn, she didn't have time for this. Brian's car was collecting her in an hour. 

Reaching to her left, she picked up her little pink razor and the bottle of body wash. Tipping some of the soapy liquid into the palm of her hand, she dropped the bottle onto the bathroom floor and lifting one long leg from the murky water. The pale, wet skin glistened in the candlelight as she applied the lotion. As she shaved her legs, she imagined Eduardo touching them. Running his fingers over the smooth flesh.

She grew hotter. Her heart trembled. She switched legs. Repeated the process. Her touches became more sensual. She ran her fingertips up the inside of her taut thighs. Would he like her like that? Would he be gentle, or rough?

Setting the razor in the soap dish, she hooked one leg up over the rim of the tub and spread her thighs. Her fingers swarmed her sex as she thrust her hips forward. He'd be rough, she thought, her lips parting in a gasp as her pubic mound rose above the bubble-filled water. Her left hand parted her damp thatch of dark curls as her right buried two fingers into her pussy.

"Nooo—" she gasped, the word tumbling out in a handful of syllables. Tearing her hands away, she clutched the edge of the bath and forced herself to breath. If she went down that road, she'd be late and the driver would be pounding on her door. Lowering her head into the warm water, she let her dark hair soak. She still had things to do…

When her heart had returned to a more comfortable rate, she reached again for the lotion on the floor and her razor. She'd purchased a new seamless corset and thong to go beneath her snug cocktail dress, but hadn't realized how small the panties were until just before this bath.

Regarding herself in the mirror, her dark pubic hair was sexily evident through the gold panties. She giggled, rejecting the idea to change as she thought of her large lingerie collection. Katie probably spent more money on items that no one but her ever saw than her suits and outfits.

Lingerie had become her private obsession—her way of acting out sexually. The psychiatrist in her had already psychoanalysed it. She'd always been on the conservative side when it came to sex, but inwardly, perhaps she wanted to rebel. She did it through thongs, g-strings, garter belts, thigh-highs, bustiers, or whatever else struck her fancy that day.

Wondering whether she should go for a more daring look, she felt a tingle pass across her sex as she ran her fingers through her pubic hair. It was the same feeling she'd received the first time she'd purchased a thong—that illicit sensation of doing something acceptable, yet naughty.

Katie had never done much 'down there'. Trimmed herself a little. Shaved it around the sides to accommodate her shrinking lingerie. She knew that the trend these days was much more extreme. 

Her fingers shook as she lathered the sides of her thatch and began to narrow it.

Starting at the top and moving down the sides, she slowly worked her way between her legs. It didn't take long to finish her task, but even as she washed all the soap away, she thought about the style. Of all those sexy, confident girls in the glossy magazines. 

Sighing, she set her razor back onto the soap basin and sank fully beneath the water. She wasn't so daring. She was Katie Nichols, thirty-year-old professional. Maybe in another life.

***

"You're joshing me," Thomas gasped, glancing around the sumptuous room. 

The opulent setting of the seventeenth century Banqueting House may have been the perfect venue for such a prestigious dinner, but it was a little grand for his tastes. The crystal chandeliers, Rubens ceiling, and breath taking canvasses adorning the walls all said one thing. Money!

Yet it wasn't the venue his shock was aimed at. It was what Sally had just imparted. It couldn't be true. Could it?

"You need to be aware," the redhead added with a slow nod of her head. "Just in case you need to handle the doomsday scenario!"

"Doomsday scenario?"

"Absolutely," she answered, finishing off Thomas's cheesecake as well as her own. For someone so tiny, he wondered where she put it all.

"Explain, please!" he said, his mind whirring in a mixture of shock. He'd thought that Alistair and Erika were the perfect couple, though admittedly the view was based on what he'd read in the press. Sally's confession that they both fucked other people, as she'd indelicately put it, had been as unexpected as it had taken him aback.

"Say the media finds out," she whispered, pushing the second sweet plate away. "You'll be the one handling it."

"If the media finds out," he replied with a frown, "there'll be no campaign. Look… what exactly do you mean, they fuck other people?"

"Oh, Thomas," she laughed, running a hand through her short hair. It always looked perfect, even when all she'd done was to run a comb through it. "I've been so impressed with you up to this point. It's called a swinging lifestyle! All the rage, as I understand it."

Dabbing her mouth with the red serviette, she eased back in her seat. Nudging his leg with her knee, she fluttered her eyelashes as she glanced across at Alistair and Erika, and then back at Thomas again. 

"Fuck me," he said, sinking back in his seat. 

Sally's perfectly manicured eyebrows rose again. "Really? I will if you want to. But Jeremy might object. I mean, he's said he always fancied a threesome, but I don't think he meant with another man."

Thomas blushed. His cock twitched. "Behave yourself," he scolded. "I have a girlfriend."

"So," she said, giving him a child-like grin as she laughed that little girl laugh of hers. "Maybe she'd be interested?"

"Sally!" he snapped.

The redhead gave her little girl laugh. "You're not a swinger, then?"

"I'm faithful," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Pleased to hear it," she told him, her smug eyes telling him she was enjoying his discomfort. Still, there was something about her new 'faithful' colleague that appealed. That she found sexually attractive. She'd never fucked a fair-haired man for a start. And tempting him off the straight and narrow could be fun…

"Anyway," she continued, dismissing the idea for the moment at least. "I thought you were perceptive? Surely you've been with us long enough now to have gauged Alistair's appetite?"

"Appetite?"

Her eyes hit the ceiling. Shaking her head in bemusement at his stupidity, she added, "Women."

"Women?"

"For God's sake, Thomas," she rasped, her exasperation obvious. 

Kincaid shook his head. Could it really be true? Hell, he'd asked a dozen different people about Brinkley-Jones before agreeing to work for him, and there wasn't a hint of this. The Senator did seem to enjoy the company of women… that was for sure. But when you had a girlfriend like Erika... 

"How do you know about it?" he asked.

"I'm aware," was all she was willing to confess. 

Her blush made him wonder. No, surely not? "Does Erika know?" he uncertainly asked, still a little dumbstruck.

"For fuck's sake, Thomas," Sally responded, shooting him one of those looks. "I've told you. They're both swingers…"

For a few seconds, he stared into her hazel coloured eyes, trying to come to terms with the shocking revelation. What the hell had he got himself into? He was the last person to judge someone on their morals. Live and let live! But he needed to work out if his faith in the black politician was damaged. Was this really the man who could change the country for the better? 

Right now, he wasn't sure.

***

Katie smiled at her partner for the evening as they returned to their table. Brian Sterling had insisted that they 'work the crowd,' telling the chestnut haired beauty that networking was an underrated part of their duties. That was why she was there, he told her, and despite his grin she knew it wasn't a joke. It as a relief to know he saw her as more than just eye-candy—not that she ever really believed that. For Sterling, business always came first.

The Scotsman held her chair for her before sliding into the adjoining seat. "Very good, my dear," he murmured. 

It was true. The beautiful, pale skinned woman had charmed all the contacts he'd made sure they bumped into. Bringing her to the charity bash as his guest had been a brainwave. 

"You can't underestimate the power of networking," he told her, pouring them both some more wine before clinking glasses. God, she was beautiful, even more so tonight. The high-necked gold dress suited her pale skin, while the way she'd curled her shoulder length chestnut brown hair onto the top of her head in true Audrey Hepburn style.

"But why?" she naively asked, blushing a little as she felt his gaze run over her body. "I mean, in our profession…"

The Senior Partner smiled like an adoring father at his child. This was Katie's one area of weakness, but then commercial awareness only came with experience. "My dear," he patiently sighed, staring into those large, luminous brown eyes. "There are lots of people here who can be of use to us!" 

"Of use?" she laughed. "You make it sound so clinical. Well, we've met them all now, so perhaps we can relax and enjoy the evening?"

"All but one," he told her, glancing around the room. "Alistair Brinkley-Jones is a good friend of mind. But there's also a good chance he'll be the next Prime Minister. As a friend, I'd clearly like that to happen. But as the Senior Partner of the most reputable West End psychiatric practice, it will be a godsend. We've got to say hello before the evening ends."

"Why are his political aspirations a godsend?"

"You really are adorable when you look at me like that," he told her, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "But you're as frustrating as can be when you're that obtuse. It's a good job you're becoming such a brilliant psychiatrist! Listen, Katie, just think of the doors he can open for us. To the rich and famous. Many of whom are here tonight."

Thinking of wealthy clients who came in to talk about how 'hard' their lives were, it all made sense. "They all need help, and who better to turn to than the firm recommended by the next Prime Minister!" she laughed.

Sterling's laughter joined hers. They drew glances from others at the table, but he didn't care. At last, she was getting it! He raised his glass and finished, "Right! Exactly. This crowd consists of exactly the people who do need psychiatry!"

***

"Champagne, Lady?" a handsome, young caterer asked, offering her a tray covered in flutes of champagne. Lady Olivia Hershey looked from the glasses to the server, smiling demurely. He's cute… she thought, taking a glass with a quiet smile. Maybe he could cure her of her boredom?

"Thank you, kind sir." Her mind formed the words, When do you get off but her mouth couldn't voice them. He smiled back and receded before she could work up the courage.

"Slow down, child," Olivia's mother scolded, stepping up behind her.

"I'm not a child, mother," the young woman whined under her breath. She was so fucking tired of being babied. She was twenty. She was a woman.

"Keep it down," the Lady Eloise Hershey chided, summoning the commanding voice that had been bred into her. "You may not be a child, but you've certainly perfected acting like one."

Olivia rolled her eyes and looked away, fuming. This time, she held her tongue. The two of them had had this conversation too many times. Olivia never won.

"Really, dear, you're acting like a commoner." She spat the word. "You'll understand, one of these days. But for now, please humour me and act like the royalty you are."

Olivia was shaking. She wanted to stamp her feet, plug up her ears, and scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to cause a scene in front of all these people. She wanted to shame her mother.

But she didn't. She never did. Instead, she took a deep breath, squared back her shoulders, and forced herself to relax. Closing her eyes, she focused on the murmur of conversation around her, and the harmonious chords of the three-string orchestra. She heard her mother say, "That's it, dear. Excellent posture…" but tuned out the rest of the lecture.

Was this what her whole life would be like? Guided by protocol and etiquette? Centred on the proper utensils to use at the dinner table, and how to look down your nose at everyone not of royal blood?

"Look at them swarm. Disgraceful," Olivia heard her mother cluck. Opening her eyes, she followed her haughty glare to a handsome black man, currently entertaining a cadre of bankers. She recognized Alistair Brinkley-Jones from his television spots, although despite his wealthy background, the royals didn't associate with them. "Some people think that man is going to be the next Prime Minister! Think of the shame that would bring to England. A black man! We'd be no better than the mongrels in America."

Olivia grinded her teeth, but still held her tongue. Her mother's racism was nothing new—and was shared by almost everyone she knew.

But as she watched the tall man across the room, she couldn't understand why. He seemed as articulate as anyone else she knew, and even though she couldn't hear him talk, she felt herself drawn to him. The man exuded charisma. His gestures were grand, his smile disarming.

As if sensing her looking, the politician glanced over at the two of them, meeting Olivia's eyes. She felt a shiver run down her spine. He flashed a white-toothed smile before returning to his immediate surrounding.

Okay, the young royal admitted, he was sexy, too. She could admit that—to herself, anyway. Tall. Broad shoulders. Even his wavy, black hair was sexy. And how scandalous would it be to go out with a black man! That thought alone sent a jolt between her legs.

She polished off her glass of champagne and looked around for another. It was her mother's fault she was here in the first place. Hob-knobbing was about as interesting as afternoon tea at her aunt's summer home. Glancing at Alistair Brinkley-Jones one more time, she fantasized about making it a little more interesting.

Only in her dreams.

***

Thomas flicked his mobile phone closed with a soft sigh. Had Becky been home when he'd returned to get ready for tonight's dinner, he could have calmed his girlfriend there and then. God knows where she'd been. The conversation he'd just had with her had carried on from this morning's mood. Clearly her disposition hadn't improved as the day had progressed.

He understood.

His early starts, and often late finishes, had resulted in him seeing less of Rebecca since he'd accepted the job. He'd known from the Blair campaign that this was likely to happen, though even he was surprised at the hours he needed to put in. Nor had he realised just how big a problem it would be for Becky. 

Like her, he was feeling 'the need', their sex life being the first thing to suffer. Things would ease, he was sure, as he settled into the role and felt in control, but right now that was little consolation. To either of them.

What made things worse was her frustration over the aerobics class. Her desire to open her own business had grown with each passing day. It was now an obsession. Today had been particularly frustrating. They'd identified all the financial institutions she could approach.




Politics Ch. 02



The blank she'd drawn had been like a slap in the face. No wonder her Brazilian temper was being directed at him.

"Problem?"

The question brought him out of his reverie. He swung around to see Erika behind him, one hand on her hip as if posing for a fashion magazine. The Scandinavian beauty looked stunning, made for nights like this, it seemed. 

It appeared that only her jutting breasts held the long, black strapless evening gown aloft. The top clung to her tanned breasts, offering a wealth of cleavage that her golden locks complimented perfectly. As she moved towards him, he couldn't stop his gaze from falling on those perfectly formed tits.

His recently unfulfilled libido, combined with the sexy sight in front of him, brought a reaction he tried to control but couldn't. And Sally's recent disclosure didn't help either. Damn, he was reaching an impressive status inside his trousers in a personal best time. 

When she gave him the 'come-on' smile she reserved for special occasions and took his arm, he jumped another inch. "You look good in a tux," she smiled, pulling him across the room towards to empty chairs at a nearby table. By the time they reached them, his cock had managed to attain full, aching status.

"Thanks," he weakly responded. 

"You're welcome," she told him with a smile. Gratifyingly, she watched his eyes focus on her nipples as they speared through the black material. "By the way," she pleasantly continued, "things went perfectly with Guus, but I'll brief you tomorrow. You seem preoccupied right now?" 

"Sorry," he apologised, and then wondered why he was apologising. "Just a problem at home. I've just spoken to Becky," he started.

"Becky?"

"Sorry… yes… my girlfriend."

"Ah," those dark, knowing eyes smiled. "Guus mentioned her. He said you made a really good couple. Something's wrong, though, that's not difficult to see. Want to tell me about it?"

Thomas hesitated, not wanting to burden Erika with his problems.

"Oh, come on," she said, nudging him with her arm. "A problem shared…"

As he felt her touch, it took him a second to focus. With her body on display as it was, and her blonde hair curled in little ringlets, she looked like she could be a supermodel. Thoughts of her and Alistair fucking other people flooded his subconscious.

"It's nothing really," he explained, tearing his gaze away from hers. "Becky's looking to start her own business, but can't get any sort of financial support. Sign of the times, I'm afraid. Banks unwilling to lend to what they see as a risky investment."

"And is it? Risky?"

He ran a hand through his fair hair. "In traditional terms, possibly. She wants to open an aerobics business, and eventually establish a chain of them. The thing is, Erika, she's excellent at what she does. She's doubled the size of the clientele she has, and it's down to her ability as a teacher. Plus she has a waiting list as long as your arm."

Erika pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. "Sounds brilliant. And from the enthusiasm in your voice, Thomas, she must be good." When she leant towards him, her tanned cleavage threatened to spill out of the dress. It didn't go unnoticed. "But if she has such a clientele now, what's the issue?"

"It's not her business," he explained, pulling his eyes away from those tits. "And the owner, quite frankly, is a bit of a tosspot. If she could start up herself, I know she'd be very successful. But unless she can find a financial backer…"

His words trailed off. She'd worked so hard. He knew she could be successful if given the chance!

The Swedish beauty reached across to rest her hand on his arm. "I have contacts, Thomas. Does she have a business plan?"

"No," he grimaced. "Another flaw. She's working on one, but isn't very good at that sort of thing. And I've been so busy over this last week that I haven't had the chance to help her. Anyway, she can't even get an appointment…"

"Look," she said, her fingers digging into his arm through the dinner jacket. "It actually sounds a no brainer. I have someone I need to chat to right now, but tell Becky to call me in the morning. I'll help her put the plan together, and I'm sure I can help her find some financial backing."

"You're joking?" It was as much of a gasp as a question.

Erika raised those perfect eyebrows. "Thomas, I've written plenty of business plans in my time, I used to be in consultancy. I can produce them with my eyes closed."

She smiled at the way his eyes lit up, like a child receiving an unexpected present. Offering to help with the business plan would allow her to get to know the woman. If she were anything like Guus Kessen described, it would be worth the trouble. Not that a business plan was required if the plan forming in her mind came to fruition. God, she loved games like this!

"Just one thing," she added.

"Anything, Erika."

"If I pull this off, you owe me a favour! Agreed?"

A favour? He'd owe her a dozen favours if she could achieve what she was suggesting. Not only would it help Becky fulfil her dream, his girlfriend would forget all other frustrations. That would allow Thomas space and time to settle into his new job, without worrying about any damaging effect on their relationship.

"Absolutely," he enthused, without a clue of what it was he was agreeing to.

***

Olivia Hershey glanced at the exit for the umpteenth time. The spoilt twenty-year-old had successfully ditched her mother, slipping away when she'd become engaged in some incredibly boring conversation with a French diplomat over the merits of some tariff or regulation or whatever.

Now she was working up the courage to escape. To just walk out of the room, hail a cab and get out of there. She could call Julian, she thought wickedly, warming at the thought of the young courier the Hershey house employed. The two of them had been fucking behind her family's back for the last month, and she hadn't seen him in a couple days.

But could she leave was the question. Could she actually be bold enough to walk out on her mother? Doubt swirled in that pretty little head of hers. What if it caused a scene? What if she embarrassed her family? What if her affair got out? She wanted to rebel, but sometimes it wasn't so easy.

That was how Erika found the pretty, young royal: licking her glossy lips and wringing her satin-gloved hands as she glanced at the opulent doors of the hall.

Despite the drabness of her mousy-coloured hair and the old-fashioned quality of her sensible, dusky pink satin gown, Erika was immediately captivated. She felt like a wolf, stumbling into a meadow of fat, lost sheep. She was practically drooling as she approached the girl.

"You're the Lady Olivia Hershey, is that right?" the statuesque blonde asked, tapping the girl on the shoulder. She had pale, freckled skin, hot to the touch. Erika recognized a girl when she was aroused.

"That's… right…" The girl's jaw practically dropped when she turned to find Erika standing there. She had wide, dark eyes that did drop briefly into the Scandinavian's cleavage for a moment. Another good sign.

"Erika Johansson," she greeted, taking the Lady's hand in hers and drawing her in for a pair of cheek kisses. The young girl was nearly as tall as she was, although the extremeness of Olivia's five-inch heels helped. Erika had wondered at that as she'd watched the girl across the room, deducting that it was one of the small ways the young woman tried to rebel.

It was that little observation that made this girl the juiciest target in the room.

"I'm with Alistair Brinkley-Jones, the man just over there." She turned the girl just a little until she could face her sexy boyfriend, all the while watching for her reaction. The young Lady's eyes lit up when she saw him, her face colouring ever so slightly. Perfect…

"You're working with him?" she asked, unable to hide the incredulity from her voice. These Brits and their conservative ways, Erika laughed to herself. It was the twenty first Century and racism still lingered! 

Of course, such things could always work to her advantage.

"Let me guess," Erika said warmly, linking her arm into Lady Olivia's. She had elbow-length satin gloves that matched her dress. How erotically quaint. "Your mother doesn't approve."

The girl didn't need to nod for Erika to get her answer. She knew it before she even asked.

"Would you like to meet him?" she enticed. Olivia's wide eyes were glued to Alistair's, although her imagination had moved far beyond a simple meeting. How wrong would that be, she thought. How scandalous!

The blonde leaned closer to her, brushing a ringlet of ashen brown hair to the side. "Would you like to fuck him?" she whispered.

Lady Olivia Hershey shivered. She did. Oh, yes, she did...

"I promise you, my Lady, you won't be sorry."

***

As he comfortably held court with the various members of the media gathered around him, Alistair Brinkley-Jones kept an eye across the room on Erika. She'd been chatting to Thomas, but had since approached a dowdy dressed young woman with mousy coloured hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he wondered what his sexy temptress of a girlfriend saw in the girl. She looked pretty enough, although her pink dress only suggested at her body beneath, replete with wide shoulders and a hem that reached her ankles.

As they crossed the room, heading toward them, Erika's rationale began to emerge. First of all, the girl was pretty, although she'd certainly done her best to disguise that. Her drab coloured hair lacked all sense of style, coifed up in a bun so tight it could have been carved out of marble.

Still, she wore her make up well—if a little too heavily—and whatever body she had hidden beneath the dress sauntered gracefully next to the model-like Erika.

The young woman looked a little hesitant, nervous perhaps? But Erika's steadying hand on her arm seemed to provide some comfort.

Trust in Erika, he reminded herself. She'd never failed to excite with the women she brought into their bed.

He turned back to his audience and put on his public face. The questions from the media were becoming repetitive, shifting now to more probing statements, rather than genuine inquiries. In many ways, he had it made? His inheritance would make him one of the top ten richest people in the UK? He could soon be converting his position as leader of the Conservative party to becoming Prime Minister. And on they went…

His eyes watched Erika, standing behind them, as he answered with ease—with the humility that was becoming his trademark. She'd come into his life like a whirlwind, transporting him into a different world from the stuffy one in which he'd previously existed. It hadn't just been a sexual thing, either.

Despite their fifteen years age difference, the Scandinavian beauty had been the one who'd taken control. She'd shown him how to laugh, to stop taking himself seriously, to enjoy himself in ways he never really knew existed. 

And then there was the sex. The sex! Wild, uninhibited sex. Not just with one another, but with the women Erika was so good at procuring. It was so good… but it was so wrong… wasn't it?

If any of this were discovered, his career, his leading position in the political world—all that he'd worked for—would be at risk. 

At risk? He'd be finished! Ruined! 

At times, it all felt too much. He was walking a dangerous line every day he stayed with Erika. He knew he kept pushing his luck. He knew that he should probably ditch her before it was too late and return to his boring lifestyle. 

But how could he?

How could he give up the most sexual creature he'd ever met in his life? The one who'd led him on a journey of incredible sensations and discovery? The one who promised so many more sexual adventures?

The media audience was dissipating, disappointed perhaps that he'd answered all their questions and sidestepped all their traps. Erika stepped forward, the young girl of obvious station on her arm. The girl's alabaster skin glowed bright red and she kept meeting his eyes and looking away.

"Alistair, I'd like you to make the acquaintance of the Lady Olivia Hershey. Lady, I present you Alistair Brinkley-Jones."

Olivia offered her dainty, gloved hand. Alistair followed etiquette, taking it and drawing it to his lips. So this girl was related to the Royal family? Even more intriguing. Smiling up from his formal bow, he finally met and held her skittish gaze. With a little help from a stylist, this girl could be the most beautiful of the royals. Knowing how that group behaved, though, it was unlikely.

"We have quite a night planned," Erika continued, drawing his attention back to her. "Isn't that right, Olivia?" she asked, turning to the mousy haired young woman.

The twenty-year-old grew even brighter. Alistair felt his cock rise before he found the command that had brought him so much success. There was a place and time for that, and right now, he had more people to meet, heading in his direction.

"I'm looking forward to it," he grinned, adding with a bow of the head, "Lady."

Erika sent a glance over to Alistair. See, it said. I told you I have something special in store later. Wordlessly, she led the young woman away as he returned to more formal duties.

***

Erika smiled to herself as she guided the girl away. The best thing about tonight was that the innocent had no idea what was in store. In the Swede's eyes, she was a typical member of the British aristocracy - dull, dumb and naive in the ways of the world. 

Her natural beauty was the only thing that set her apart.

Erika cocked her head to one side, lips slightly parted, staring straight into Lady Olivia Hershey's admiring eyes. The wide-open pupils, the misty haze of intoxication, almost begged for Erika take advantage. 

She felt a pang between her legs. Perhaps she would? Just a taste before the evening with Alistair really got underway?

"Tell you what," Erika said, putting her glass onto a nearby table and checking that the snuffbox was still in her small, satin bag. Her voice was deliberately husky, her tongue darting across her wet, glossy lips as she gave that look to the woman. "I have a treat in store. Follow me, honey."

Without waiting for a response, she set off towards the brightly lit corner of the elegant room. She knew the girl would follow like an obedient puppy, and when she reached the white door to the rest rooms, she allowed the young Lady Olivia to enter ahead of her.

Once inside, the girl looked around, as if wondering what to do next. Erika ignored her at first, swiftly looking the door before heading for the cool marble counter. It took a lot to get Erika's blood boiling; corrupting a sweet, young girl was one of those times. She breathed in deeply as she turned to see the girl's frightened stare. Her eyes narrowed as she felt the wetness grow between her legs. The rush she had with a pretty girl the first time never got old.

"Come here," Erika instructed, crooking a finger. The girl hesitantly made her way over to the blonde and the two of them ended up leaning side by side on the counter. Up close, not even the loose fitting dress could conceal this girl's magnificent looking breasts.

"Such a good girl," Erika smiled encouragingly, her hands snaking out to hold Lady Olivia's face so that she could stare into her eyes. She turned, resting her hip on against the marble. "Want a reward?"

"Oh, yes," the young blonde cooed, staring lovingly at the beautiful, vibrant woman. "Yes, please."

"Feeling horny?"

"Yes. Oh, yes…"

"Ever had a woman?"

"A woman?" She looked genuinely shocked. "I thought you said I'd be with Alistair…"

"Of course you will," Erika said comfortingly. "But tell me, Olivia," she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "Don't tell me that none of your aristocratic lady friends hasn't dabbled with other women."

"Never," said the woozy woman. As the sexy blonde stared deeper into her sexual soul, she wanted to respond. Be more open. "Well… there were rumours about Princess—"

The naïve woman's words came to a sudden end as Erika wrapped an arm around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a soft kiss.

"My God…" Lady Olivia breathed, her heart beating as Erika pulled fractionally away.

Erika's soft fingers caressed her cheek. "Like that?"

"Yes!" Her voice was overload in its enthusiasm. "Oh, yes… I did!"

"Told you," the blonde haired temptress huskily responded. "Do you find me sexy?"

"Oh… God… yes…" It felt good to say, felt electrifying to confess.

"Want to kiss me again?"

"Y… yes. Please!"

Erika tilted her head as if offering her lips to the young woman. "Go ahead…" she whispered breathily. 

Lady Olivia hesitated for a second, as if attempting to come to terms with the offer. Then her head darted forward as she crashed her lips against the woman in front of her. As her mind crossed the great divide her hand snaked around Erika's neck, dragging her into a sudden, hard kiss.

The Swede's body felt Lady Olivia's shiver against her. Within seconds, the aristocratic woman was making out with her like the bitch in heat that she was. Erika manoeuvred her against the counter, getting her to half sit on the edge. The most daring thing about the girl's evening gown was the long slit up the front, and the blonde took full advantage. As the dress hiked up and Erika's hand slithered along a pair of deliciously toned, smooth legs, the mousy haired woman instantly widened her legs to accommodate the probing hand. 

"Good girl," Erika murmured, pushing the dress across her slender hips. The dress tore, just a little, before she could get full access to her prize. Dropping to her knees, she pulled the damp thong to one side. "Want to cum?" she asked, looking up into the young woman's amazed eyes.

"Oh, yes," Lady Olivia gasped, her hands gripping the lip of the counter, like she was holding on for dear life. "Oh, yes… yes… YES…"

Erika smiled to herself as she gazed at the Lady Olivia's neatly maintained pussy. This girl really does have an inner slut, she thought. A small step for woman. A giant leap for this young bitch.

The touch of her tongue immediately drew a loud groan from the young innocent. Erika dragged it out, skimming along the ridge of the girl's plump labia. She teased her clit without touching it, her tongue slowly circling the swollen bud. Playing in the scrap of dark hair that sat above.

"Please," Lady Olivia gasped, thrusting her hips forward. "Please…"

Please indeed, Erika thought to herself, her nipples stiff with desire at the girl's complete surrender. With a growl, her mouth fastened onto the rapidly emerging clit at the same time as she stiffened two fingers and worked them into her captive's already oily pussy. 

"Uh… Goddd…" Lady Olivia cried, her senses going into overload. When Erika's fingers found her g-spot, it set off an explosion as surely as if the Swede had pressed a detonator.

The tall woman's shriek was torn violently from her throat. Her body bent backwards into the wall as Erika's fingers and tongue did their work, the ripples of her violent orgasm threatening never to stop.

Erika sighed happily. Tonight would be a wonderfully long night.

***

"Anything I can do to help, just say," Brian Sterling told Alistair Brinkley-Jones, slapping the man he knew so well on the back. "By the way, let me introduce Katie. Katie Nichols."

Alistair turned towards the beautiful woman. She was standing just behind the older man, and he stared for a moment before taking Katie's hand and holding onto it a few moments longer than he should. The black politician felt his breath catch as he took in the sight of the beautiful woman before him. 




Politics Ch. 03



Chapter 3: The Plot Thickens

Erika Johansson smiled at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Had Alistair not already left for his early morning meeting with Thomas and Sally, he would undoubtedly have approved. 

She held the compact mobile phone away for a moment, and shook out the silken locks she'd styled into golden waves. They bounced on her shoulders, flirting with the delicate red strap of her low cut bra. Accompanied by her plunge-thong and nude stockings with their lacy red tops, she was the perfect, blonde temptress.

Yet maybe Alistair wouldn't even notice, she pouted. He hadn't been himself over the past week, less inclined to take advantage of the 'opportunities' she was suggesting. Or even fucking her! Either his libido was on the wane, or the pressures of the looming General Election were finally getting to him. With a quick glance at into the mirror, she decided that must be the case.

"Hello?" the familiar Dutch voice answered. The blonde wondered what Guus Kessen would say if he could actually see her now! He'd certainly "appreciate" her.

The call was necessary on two counts, of course. She was never just flirting. Because of Alistair's recent behaviour, the Dutchman was an 'option' she was keen to cultivate. A girl always had to have one eye on the future, after all! 

He was also essential if her plan concerning Rebecca de Santos was to work…

"Guus," she sexily murmured, only too aware there was no mistaking her sexy Scandinavian accent. "How good to hear your voice."

"You, too, Erika," the multi millionaire retorted. Even down the line, Erika could discern the warmth in his voice. "You said you'd stay in touch," he continued, "but I didn't expect to hear from you quite so quickly. And especially as early in the morning as this."

Early morning? Yes, seven thirty was early, but the Dutchman had confided his working day began at six.

"You're disappointed?" she asked.

The Dutchman's laughter floated into her ear. "On the contrary, Erika. I'm delighted. And wondering whether it's simply a social call?"

The Swedish woman's seductive laughter mingled in with his. She'd only met the multi millionaire once, but had quickly realised he wasn't one for beating around the bush. "Both," she cagily answered. "You told me you're an early riser, so I knew I'd get you. And while speaking to you is always a pleasure, I do have a business proposition that I think will appeal."

"Really?" the clipped Dutch accent responded. "I'm always interested in making money."

Erika's laugh was softer this time. "Oh, this is much better than merely making money," she told him, wondering if her assessment of the businessman would prove to be correct. It could be embarrassing if not, but the twenty-five-year-old had always been able to read people.

"Better? I'm intrigued! Do tell."

"There's someone I know…" she began, then hesitated. "More accurately, I don't know her yet. We're meeting today. The point is, this woman is looking to start a business. An aerobics business. From what I understand, all she needs is thirty thousand to make it happen, but the banks aren't interested."

"And you think I would be, Erika? Tut tut! I don't do business deals for such tiny amounts of money; it's just not worth my time. My investments make thirty grand a minute without me needing to lift a finger. I thought you were much smarter than that?"

Erika gave a soft laugh. Men continually underestimated her. The Dutchman's flirtatious ways at Conservative Party Headquarters had told her all she needed to know about his attitude to women. All she had to do was reel him in.

"Oh, I am, Guus," she softly replied, thickening her accent to its sexiest. "Believe me, I am. It's because it's what the English call pocket money that I know you'll be interested. That… and the chance to have a beautiful woman in your debt."

"You know I'll be interested?" the clipped Dutch accent retorted. "Erika, with my money, I've no problem attracting all the beautiful women I want. Another makes no difference to me. Unless it's you…"

"Guus…" she pretended to giggle, raising her eyes to the ceiling as she pulled her hair onto the top of her head. So easy… "Unless it's me? What are you suggesting?"

"I think you know," the Dutchman answered without a hint of embarrassment.

Erika smiled at her reflection in the mirror. He'd be easy enough to wrap around her finger when the time was right.

"Well, Guus… I'm very flattered! But I think you'll be excited when I tell you the name of the woman in question."

"Really? And why is that?"

"Because it's Rebecca de Santos," the Swedish beauty gleefully said, playing her trump card. She remembered the look in his eyes when he'd talked about Thomas's girlfriend. "I think this might be an attractive proposition for you, Guus. Am I right?"

"Erika," the overweight Dutchman murmured, after a brief pause. "Remind me never to underestimate you again. Tell me more—"

***

Since Thomas had told Becky of Erika's offer to help, the couple seemed to be in a much better place. The early starts and late evenings during his first week had stretched their relationship to breaking point, and if anything, the Conservative Party's Campaign Manager was working even longer now. Yet the possibility of achieving her dream had completely changed the picture. 

While their sex life was still suffering from his long hours, that was a short-term issue, and both of them could now see that. It was only a few short weeks to the General Election, and with them both immersing themselves in their different objectives, they could temporarily put up with their sexual deprivation.

Or could they? God knew Thomas was feeling the 'need' right now! As for Becky, sex was everything. Knowing his Brazilian girlfriend, he had no doubt that her vibrator would be working overtime!

Not this morning, though. 

Her meeting with Erika would be on her mind, and the need to go over all the finer points of her proposal with a view to finalising the business plan. At Erika's insistence, Becky had provided Thomas with as much background detail as she could. When he'd passed it on, the Scandinavian beauty had told him she'd read it all, and that she was lining up a financial backer.

Shit, with Becky's hopes raised as much as they were, he hoped it worked out!

"Okay, guys," Alistair said, breezing through the glass conference door and dropping his file of papers onto the long glass table "Pour me a coffee, Sally, would you?" he asked, sitting down beside them. It was his preferred seat, back to the window. No distractions.

The redhead smiled. "Want one?" she asked Thomas, pouring two cups when he nodded. "Coasters," she said, taking the cups to the table.

"Tiffany or Conservative Party crest?" Thomas asked with a grin. The two options had become a running joke between them. He'd noticed she'd become flirtier with him as they got to know one another. Not that he encouraged it, of course. Still, it helped the days pass a little more quickly.

"Let's go Tiffany this morning," she laughed, plonking down the mugs before pouring herself a tea. She hated coffee.

"Okay," Alistair started, taking the coffee and pulling a face as he took a sip. "God, that's strong. Have you guys seen the breaking Daily Telegraph story on expenses? This whole bloody thing is going to blow up in our faces if we're not careful."

"It looks like it's the government on the receiving end…" Sally began.

"For now," Thomas said. "It'll come our way, too."

"That's right," Brinkley-Jones agreed. "I've sent some stuff to both of you, just make sure you get up to speed. Right now, I really don't have long," he continued. "I have a shit of a day ahead."

"Okay. You want to start without Erika?"

"Where is she?"

Thomas looked at Sally and shrugged his shoulders. She pulled a face. "Want me to find her?"

The black politician waved a hand in the air. "No, let's wait. You guys are sure this debate is a good idea?" 

Sally and Thomas surreptitiously exchanged glances as Alistair rummaged through his papers. The party political debate had been set up for a while now. Hell, they were flying to Belfast tomorrow morning.

"It's a good idea," Thomas carefully began. "We're still a couple of points down in most opinion polls. We need the extra push. Besides, you'll be great at this face-to-face stuff—"

"It always dances around the real issues," Alistair interjected. "Becomes more personal, less about what's important. I can get my points over much better in a solo session or an interview..."

Thomas glanced at Sally again. This was unlike the confident politician. Something was troubling him. Maybe there was more to this Daily Telegraph story than he'd thought?

"Alistair," Thomas said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the glass table. His tone brooked no argument. "You're made for this. You're a better public speaker than either Blair or Collinson. More charismatic. Your views and ideas are much superior, and you bring a freshness that people love. The public will get a feel for how passionate you can be, and they'll understand how much you believe in what you're doing. How much you believe in Britain."

"You think so?" 

"Absolutely," he answered, "Televised public appearances like these can make all the difference. We get the maximum audience. With the forthcoming Newsnight interview and the televised appearance in Scotland, we're building up nicely."

"Okay," the politician conceded, rising to his feet. "Look, I have a few calls to make. Find Erika and we'll go through what to expect. I don't want to walk into tomorrow morning's debate without being fully briefed. Back in here in half an hour. Okay?"

Sally stared after him as he left and then turned her gaze back on Thomas. "Geez, I've never seen him in that mood before," she sighed. 

"Something's on his mind," Thomas muttered. "We'd better check our in trays and get up to speed on that expenses story."

Sally eased herself up from her chair and bent forward to kiss him on the top of his head. "And I haven't seen that side of you, either, Thomas. Very persuasive. I'm impressed!"

Thomas felt his cock twitch as the redhead slid her pert breasts against his shoulder. Damn. He really had to create some quality time with Becky…

***

At seven thirty in the morning, Eduardo Dias glanced out of the paned front windows as he opened his small café. He was late. Katie had sat in her car for a good ten minutes, trying to convince herself not to go through with this. 

In the end, she couldn't stop herself. 

She'd sucked three cocks in her masturbatory fantasy that had lasted most of last night. They belonged to Brian Sterling, Alistair Brinkley-Jones, and the sixty-year-old café owner. 

The first two were out of bounds. Eduardo wasn't…

It took her only a few seconds to lock her car, and then hurry across the road. There was no turning back. That destructive force inside her needed this like she needed food and drink. Her body wouldn't operate without it.

"Miss Katie!" the surprised South American greeted her as she quickly entered and leant back against the closed door. "Where have you been? I no see you for a week now! You always say when you on holiday!"

She ran a hand through her chestnut coloured hair, trying to control the breath that came in short pants. "I haven't been on holiday, Eduardo," she breathlessly told him. "I… I can't get breakfast here anymore. My… my employers… they prepare breakfast for me now."

The small, South American owner paused. The cappuccino machine could wait. His brow creased in pain, as if she'd slapped him across the face. "I no see Miss Katie again?"

"I… I came to thank you," she answered, unable to move. She leaned back against door, needing the support.

"Thank me?" He looked close to tears.

"For all you've done," she explained, knowing from the way his eyes dropped to her tits that her thick nipples were hard and fully on display against her cream blouse. "I wanted to… thank you…"

The sixty-year-old man nodded, his mind appraising the situation and her words. That was twice she'd said that. She'd left her suit jacket in the car and her thin, pale arms were laid bare by the sleeveless blouse. Resting against the door like that, she looked lost. And incredibly sexy.

The sudden gleam in his eyes told Katie that the penny had dropped. She'd thought this was going to be difficult. Wondered if she could go through with it, even. The light in his dark eyes was as frightening as it was reassuring.

He picked up a grubby white towel and slowly wiped his hands on it before dropping it back onto the worktop. Leaving the confines of the counter area, he slowly walked around to her position by the door. "How you thank me?" he asked. "How you thank me, Miss Katie?"

The psychiatrist didn't reply. Her heart was thumping like a jackhammer on concrete. She couldn't find her voice over the noise. The café owner took her non-response as approval. He nodded and with a single movement, reached behind her and clicked the lock.

Keeping his small eyes on her apprehensive face, he took her hand, pulling her with him into the small stockroom at the rear of the café.

His movements changed as they entered the tiny room, like a lion realizing he'd stumbled upon a helpless gazelle. He could feel her hand shake in his grip. Feel her palms grow clammy. This beautiful woman was hot for him. He had no idea why, but as he watched her long, dark lashes bat nervously up at him, he knew his instincts were true. 

And besides, he didn't care why she felt that way. It was enough that she did.

With one swift motion, he grabbed her slim wrists and forced them above her head, as if worried she might have a sudden change of mind. With a snarl of arousal, he pushed her back against the grubby wall and jammed his lips against her voluptuous mouth. Raising a foot, he kicked the door beside them half closed, the sound of it rattling against the frame as it rebounded.

His searching mouth didn't ease until she was grasping for breath. His hands released her wrists and attacked her blouse, yanking it from her dark grey skirt. Disappearing under the garment, he roughly dragged up the cups of her bra and cupped her jutting swells.

Katie closed her eyes as his cold fingers teased her breasts. It was his cock she wanted, but his eagerness felt so good that she was willing to wait. He pushed her blouse up higher, exposing the fullness of her creamy tits. The small South American dipped his head to suck in a hard nipple. She let out a gasp of joy, which quickly turned to a grunt as his hands roamed under her skirt.

Her body arched into his touch. She spread her thighs, giving his callused fingers access to the treasure between her legs.

The panting man's lips switched nipples. "Ngh!" The moan that tore from her throat sounded almost painful. He was sucking so hard that she buried her hands in his greasy black hair and pulled him closer. 

She adored the moment when a man succumbed to the need for her body that first time. Was it the power that overwhelmed her? The delight she took in his frenzy when he was completely unable to contain himself?

The moment had come. She wanted his hardness, wanted it in her mouth. 

But… the way his hand had dragged her thong to one side… the way he rubbed his fingers along her wetness! God, it was proving too much. Wait, she insisted to herself. Don't do this. I'm the one in control. I'm the one who wants to devour your 'snake,' feed on your salty seed!

Katie couldn't stop him. Didn't want to stop him. She so needed this…

His fingers found her swollen button, nestled in the bed of her dark curls. That was all it took. He didn't even need to penetrate her to make her cum like a fountain being turned on for the first time, after a winter of rest. For a moment she clung tightly to him, using his small, slender body to stay on her feet as the orgasm ran through her body. Her knees buckled. She groaned. She savoured the violent orgasm, allowing it to consume her.

Then she was sliding to her knees…

He'd already released himself from the confines of his blue jeans. He was smaller than she expected—and not as thick—but she didn't care. Her mouth took him inside with an urgency that had been missing for too long. When his hands dug into her soft hair, she began to mouth-fuck him. 

She could feel his shaft push against the sides of her throat as she slid her pink lips all the way down to the base and back up again. When the café owner grunted as she worked on him, another orgasm began to brew inside her. Katie didn't care about the niceties; she wanted that seed. Her eyes danced upwards into his, revelling at the contorted look on his face. A look that she, an eminent psychiatrist, was creating!

"Stop, Miss Katie," he grunted, gripping her hair more tightly. "Please… stop…"

She knew why. The old bastard wanted to fuck her. That was one pleasure she wouldn't allow! His hands gripped her hair more tightly, trying to pull her head away. They were in their own private battle, Katie racing him towards his orgasm, Eduardo desperately trying to resist.

Her large brown eyes stared up into his again. He had no chance! With just the crown of his cock in her wet embrace, she swirled her tongue across the hypersensitive ridge. He groaned, releasing her. She plunged her mouth back onto his ramrod stiffness, deep-throating him again. He was throbbing. He was there now. There was no escape.

She paused and raised her head one final time, a string of saliva dangling between her lips and the tip of the glistening mushroom-shaped head. She stroked his shaft, masturbating him with her hands. Short jerking movements. He began to pulsate.

It was enough. 

Eduardo's body jerked. As his snake prepared to spit its venom, she jammed her mouth back on him. Just in time. His creamy seed surged between her greedy lips, her mouth sucking in everything he could offer. She swallowed like it was manna from heaven, gratefully taking every last burst. Her hands continued to pump his shaft until he had nothing left to give.

As the sixty-year-old crumpled back against the wall, eyes closed, knees bent, the beautiful psychiatrist began to regain her senses. Oh, God! 

Eduardo heard rather than saw the door to the stockroom open. When he somehow squinted through cum-fuelled eyes, all he saw was Miss Katie pushing through the outer door and rushing into the street.

She didn't look back. She didn't dare. The fuel of arousal was still reverberating through her body. Catching her reflection in a shop window, she realised why passers-by had been glancing at her. Stopping in an as yet unopened shop doorway, she adjusted her state of undress as best she could.

She'd tell them she'd tripped and fallen when she reached her office. 

Looking down to see a small blob of cum on one of the buttons of her blouse, she took it on her fingertip and fed it between her full lips. One day, her secret could destroy her career. But a stranger's creamy cum tasted so good, so thrilling, she feared that she'd never be able stop.

***

Alistair gulped down the last of his lunchtime sandwich and took a couple of minutes to reflect. His hour-long telephone conversation with Brian Sterling earlier that morning had been a tough one. So was the Scot's suggestion. But his mind certainly felt more settled for having had the discussion.

Erika had been intrigued when he'd told her to create a gap in his diary that afternoon. It meant he was putting off Tom Broadhurst again. The Deputy Secretary for the Environment was frothing at the mouth at the need to discuss his strategy for cleaning up the riverbanks. 




Politics Ch. 03



But visiting Brian Sterling's offices was much more important. The phone call to his friend had been the first step. It would shortly be time for his second…

"Why do you need to see him?" Erika asked as he joined the three members of his team in the conference room.

"He wants to discuss a Campaign contribution," he blithely lied. It wasn't easy. He wasn't in the habit of lying. But it had to be done.

"Let Thomas go," she told him, shooting him one of her looks. "You could take care of that for us, couldn't you, Thomas?" she smiled across at the fair-haired Campaign Manager.

"No problem," he answered, feeling the twitch in his trousers as he studied the blonde. In that cream silk shirt and immaculate faded black jeans, she could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. He found himself wondering what she wore underneath. His cock twitched again. 

Sally's foot nudged his under the table. When she had his attention, she smiled demurely. But the look in her eyes told him she knew what he'd been thinking. Damn. He had to get home to Becky in good time tonight.

"Not possible," Alistair calmly said, drawing a line under the subject. "He's a personal friend of the family."

Thomas's attention diverted from his illicit thoughts as he watched Alistair and Erika stare at one another. Was there tension? Or was it simply a continuation of his boss's early morning demeanour? He'd been through everything there was to read on the expenses expose. Unless he'd missed something, there wasn't anything too dramatic to worry about, despite his boss's misgivings.

"Now then, can we get onto the subject in hand? I want to know more about tomorrow's debate. Thomas? Sally?"

"As far as the arrangements are concerned, I've taken care of everything. Flight tickets and an itinerary are in the attached folders," the redhead smiled, passing the blue documents across the glass table. "I've been through everything with Erika, so all your other scheduled meetings have been re-arranged around the trip. Early morning flights tomorrow, and back twenty-four hours later. Should be fun."

"Format?" Alistair asked, maintaining his focus.

Thomas acknowledged the tone, as well as the question. He decided to keep it straight and to the point. "The venue is Belfast City Hall in Donegall Square. Apparently, it's an honour to use the council's Civic building. We're on TV, and have a live audience. There'll be you, Blair and Collinson, all answering questions put by the chair."

"Who is?"

"Ronan P. O'Mara."

Sally laughed, theatrically covering her mouth when the others grinned.

"You know something we don't?" Alistair softly asked.

"You haven't heard of him?" she asked, glancing around at the others. "He's a late night chat show host over there. No political affiliation apparently. Used to be a music hall comedian! It's true," she emphasised, when Alistair and Erika pulled disbelieving faces.

"Alas, it is true," Thomas agreed, flashing a grin. "Though my knowledge of late night Irish chat show hosts is not as comprehensive as Sally's. But what I do know is that he's not a serious commentator, not in the Larry Paxman mould, anyway."

"Thank God for that," Alistair muttered. Paxman's rottweiler approach to politicians was well known.

"Don't worry about O'Mara, he's not a problem other than a little, friendly showboating," Thomas continued. "The point is, he won't be able to divert you away from the serious points you'll be making. I'll have a copy of the questions, plus potential answers, ready for you to read on the flight over."

"Sounds good," Erika snapped, checking her watch. "Anything else for now? We don't want to delay Alistair's donation appointment."

The irony wasn't lost on Brinkley-Jones, but he held his peace. 

"I'm finished," Thomas said, glancing sideways at Sally. He'd been right about the tension between them.

"Me too," Alistair said, standing up as he collected his blue folder from the table. Heading for the door, he shot back over his shoulder, "Just make sure I have that briefing paper for the plane tomorrow, please, Thomas."

"You got it!" came the answer.

"And you've got it, too," Erika smiled at Thomas as she collected her belongings. "I'm on my way to see your girlfriend now. From everything I've read, I have a good feeling about this. Do me a favour and ring ahead, would you? Let her know I'm heading over there now?"

***

"Diana told me you had a fall on the way to the office this morning." 

Katie looked up from her desk. Brian Sterling made an imposing sight framed in the doorway of her office. Her wide smile kissed the corners of her mouth. "Yes, I felt so stupid, Brian. Tripped getting out of the car," she lied, staring into his grey eyes. 

Always look someone in the eyes when you lie to them! He'd told her that.

"Well, you couldn't tell," he said, returning the smile as he strolled into her office. "You look fabulous!" 

More than fabulous, Brian Sterling thought. Her long, dark, shoulder length hair caught the sunlight curving in through the large window. When he'd first peered into her office, he'd watched her for thirty seconds before speaking. Despite the fact she'd been lost in thought, she was even more beautiful than usual, and the sexy way her voluptuous mouth sucked on the end of that pencil sent chills through him.

Think something else, he told himself.

"Thank you, Brian," the thirty-year-old woman said, her morning's escapade still sending a chill through her body. "And it's good of you to ask."

The Scot nodded as he made his way across the plush carpet, easing himself down on the couch. "I like to make sure my colleagues are okay after any mishap." 

"I know," she said with that soft laugh of hers. "You hate the idea of anyone missing a day at work, don't you? It would impinge on profits!"

"Katie!" he exclaimed in mock astonishment. "That comment is as unkind as it's fully accurate!"

They both laughed. She was becoming very comfortable in Brian's company, but knew him well enough to be aware that this wasn't simply a social visit to enquire after her welfare. 

"I haven't really had the chance to talk to you about, and thank you for, last week," he told her in that grammatically correct way of his.

He glanced down at the tips of his fingers as he spoke. It was the way he did when he was uneasy about something. God, do I really know him that well? Katie waited for him to get to the point. Much easier that way. Let him find his own way there.

"Mmm. The charity bash. I've already had a couple of calls as a result. Not only have we sown the seeds, we've immediately reaped a couple of profitable dividends! And you wondered why networking was necessary!"

Katie found herself blushing when she thought back to the evening. Alistair Brinkley-Jones hadn't been far from her thoughts since then. Nor had his cock. She'd never been with a black man…

"That's good news," she said quickly, to cover any show of uneasiness. "I assume you'll be directing at least one of those potential new clients in my direction, Brian?"

"Your direction?"

"Of course! We were a team that night, so it's only fair to share the fees, don't you think?"

Rather than burst out laughing as she expected, the grey haired Scot sat back on the couch. Resting one arm along the back, he nodded.

"You're joking!" she exclaimed before he could speak. "I thought the firm's approach was that partners beat the shit out of one another trying to bring in new clients. Giving me one…" would be unheard of, she finished in her head.

This time, Sterling did laugh. "I'm not sure I've ever encouraged a partner to 'kick the shit out of anyone," he said, "though there has been the occasional client who deserved that approach. But as you say, Katie, we were a team that night. Besides, this one is a favour."

"Favour?" she questioned, swinging around in her leather swivel chair. "Why do I have a feeling that a favour means there'll be no additional fee income?"

His face told her this was awkward for him. "I said it's a favour. Well, two actually… no, make that three!"

Her face dropped. She'd been joking, but he wasn't. She'd do anything for this man—of course she would. But taking a non-paying client was strictly against the firm's rules. "Brian, I don't understand. Three favours? Please tell me—"

The grey haired man's upraised hand stopped her. "I know, I know. Let me explain. The first favour is to the client. I'm not charging him a thing, and you'll understand why in due course."

He paused, looking for a reaction. Katie didn't give him one other than a nod for him to continue.

"Good," he smiled, happy with her acquiescence. "The second favour is from you. There are a number of reasons why I'm asking you to help, Katie. One, if I approached any other partner, I'd have a lot of explaining to do. Two, we both know you owe me for everything I've done for you over the years."

Another pause. Another nod. Katie wasn't about to dispute that the Scot had been a major influence in her career, though it was unusual for him to mention such a thing. That suggested he badly needed this favour.

"But as important as either…" the Senior Partner continued, tailing off. 

He thought back to his long conversation with Alistair. His younger friend hadn't provided many details, but from what he had told him, it seemed the Conservative Party leader was on the road to self-destruction. If anyone could help, it would be Katie.

"Just as important," he continued, meeting her eyes, "is that I know I can trust you to handle this sensitively. And believe me, it'll need sensitive handling. I want you to see what you can do to help him."

"Of course I will, Brian," she told him, rising from her seat and covering the short distance before flopping down on the sofa beside him. She straightened her skirt. "But why me? I understand that you don't want to use the others… But why don't you see him personally, Brian?"

"I'm too close to the whole thing," the Scot patiently answered. His tone was that of a parent speaking to his favourite child. "Family friend. I'm not sure how much I could help. We all know the perils of having someone close to us as a client. It doesn't work."

That made sense. Katie touched his arm—a favourite daughter giving her father comfort. "Okay, Brian. Of course I'll help. But why all the secrecy? Who is it, for goodness sake? And what's their problem?

"I'll let him tell you his problems," the Senior Partner told her. "As for who it is, that's the third favour. For you."

"For me?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, judging from the way you and he stared at one another the other night, I'd say it's a big favour!"

"That's right," the Scot softly added as recognition dawned on her face. "It's Alistair Brinkley-Jones."

***

As soon as she saw her, Rebecca knew this woman was the real thing. It wasn't the flame red open Mercedes roadster. Or the aggressive way she left it parked outside the apartment: one wheel on the pavement and the nearside wing jutting dangerously out onto the open road, a candidate for either an accident or a parking ticket.

It was the way the blonde oozed class. The creamy silk shirt clung to her curves under the custom-tailored jacket, and her immaculate, faded black low-rise jeans looked like they were sprayed on. And if Rebecca knew her stuff, those were black patent leather Jimmy Choo pumps.

"Rebecca," the Swedish woman murmured as the Brazilian woman opened the door. It was like they'd known one another for years. Planting a kissed on the raven-haired woman's cheeks, she pulled her in for a warm hug. Let her feel the swell of her breasts and inhale the aroma of her perfume. Gabrielle Dubois' Nudity had such a sexy fragrance.

"Becky," Thomas's girlfriend murmured, taking a step back as the beautiful blonde released her. "Please call me Becky."

"Great," Erika murmured, sweeping into the apartment. Swinging back around to face the nervous woman, she gave one of her warmest smiles. "Thanks for sending me everything you have on the project. I got a great feel for what you're trying to do. I think it's a great idea!" The woman's high cheekbones and sizzling light eyes gave her the look of a mountain lion.

"You do?" Rebecca asked. Everything about this woman was impressive, from the way she dressed, talked, and so easily made herself at home. As for that Scandinavian accent, it gave her goose bumps.

"Absolutely, Becky. Thomas has given me everything you prepared," she said, her eyes darting around the room, "and I used them to work out the financials. If I've got this right, this could produce a nice little return for you."

"That's exactly what I've been trying to tell people," the Brazilian beauty enthused, indicating that Erika should make herself comfortable on the couch. "The financial side of things make a lot of sense. But that's not the reason I'm doing this, Erika. I love my work and I love my classes. It's a vocation for me, not simply a job."

"Quite right," Erika responded, slipping off her jacket and casually tossing it onto an armchair. "What do you think?" she asked, doing an outrageous twirl. "Think I'd be fit enough for one of your classes?"

The question was superfluous. It didn't need an answer and she wasn't looking for one. Instead, she wanted the Brazilian woman's eyes on her body.

Becky stood for a moment, admiring the figure on display. She was in great shape, but it wasn't just that. She carried herself well. She had grace and poise that in everything from her posture to the way she wore her clothes. She was sexy. Very sexy, in fact. Rebecca blushed at the thought.

"You're fabulous," she eventually managed, feeling a dryness assuage her mouth. "You go to a gym?"

"Occasionally. But I've installed an indoor swimming pool at home. I do half an hour every day. Keeps me toned, don't you think?"

"Very," the Brazilian woman murmured. "But you should come to one of my classes, too, Erika," she laughed. "Try aerobics, but try mine!"

Oh, I intend trying you, the Scandinavian beauty thought. "Tell you what, Becky," she answered, looking around and then gracefully lowering herself to the couch. "I'll come to your grand opening. How about that?"

"My grand opening?" the twenty-two year old Brazilian woman gasped, one hand rising to clutch her chest. "You really think I can do this, Erika?"

"I know you can do it," the blonde beauty beamed. "I know we can do it! But first…"

"Yes?"

"First, have you any wine?"

Rebecca laughed as she looked down at the Swedish beauty. One arm stretched out on either side along the back of the sofa, she looked like royalty surveying her domain. She actually felt her nipples pushing against her tee shirt and began to blush. This was a woman, for God's sake! 

"Red or white?" she hoarsely asked.

"Bring out the most expensive red you have, Becky. I've already drawn up a business plan, though it'll need some fine-tuning once we've finished. But let's enjoy a drink or two while we go through everything. Then I'll help make your dreams come true."

***

"You two already know one another," Brian Sterling commented with a smile, stepping to one side as he ushered Alistair Brinkley-Jones into Katie's office. "For what it's worth, I've told the receptionists that we're thinking of making a donation to the Conservative Party. Seems like good cover."

"I like that thought," the black politician grinned. "How much?"

"As it's an imaginary donation, you can make it for as much as you'd like," the Senior Partner dryly answered. "I've also told them that if anyone outside of the office knows of Alistair's visit, we'll have an ex-employee on our hands."

"Isn't that a bit dramatic?" Katie joked.

"Oh, Brian likes a touch of the dramatic," Alistair laughed, sweeping a hand through his long black hair. It was slightly longer than conventional wisdom dictated, especially for a politician. But it suited him, Katie thought. Gave a hint of a wild side hidden behind the smooth exterior.

"Oh, yes, I know he does," she responded, enjoying the immediate banter, though she knew it was far from the truth. One of the qualities on permanent display with the Senior Partner was his calm, cool approach to life.

"Joke all you like," the Scot told them as his gaze swung from Katie to the Conservative party leader. Their ease with one another boded well for the task ahead. "I take the confidentiality of your visit here as seriously as you do, dear boy."

"I know, I know," Alistair responded, glancing around him before settling on the leather sofa. "And I appreciate it, Brian." 

The Senior Partner nodded. "I understand your time is limited, old friend, so I'll leave the two of you. Let me know when you're finished, Katie. I'd like to speak with Alistair before he leaves."

Momentary silence fell as the Senior Partner left the room, both suddenly shy in each other's company. Then they burst into spontaneous laughter at the sudden tension between them.

"He'll want to check that I'm okay at my job," Katie said, choosing to sit in the chair closest to Alistair, rather than beside him. "So even if we get nowhere, you've got to give me a good report, okay?"

The dark skinned politician laughed. "That's not a problem, Katie. But I have a feeling we're going to get on just fine, don't you?"

"Well, let's see," she said, realising that her initial instinct was correct. He was a flirt. Time to get down to business. "You're comfortable about seeing me?"

"Not sure," he told her, shuffling a little on the couch. His eyes were suddenly anywhere other than on hers. "To be truthful, when I called Peter, all I expected was that the two of us would have an informal chat. His suggestion that I should see you took me by surprise."

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not sure I have a treatable condition. That's what you shrinks call it, don't you?"

"Shrink?"

Brinkley-Jones laughed as his eyes found hers. "No offence."

"None taken." Provocation was often a defence mechanism. "So, Peter thinks that by telling me about your problems, I can help?"

"That seems to be the idea."

"And you're comfortable with that?"

There was that shuffle again. "You've already asked that."

Katie gave him a disarming smile. Whatever his problems were, his attitude screamed that he was uncomfortable with telling her about them. "True," she agreed. "And you said you weren't sure. What I'm trying to get at, Alistair, is that this won't work unless you're willing to be completely open. And traditionally, the first session with any patient is usually cat and mouse."

Brinkley-Jones waved an imperious hand into the air. "I don't have time for cat and mouse games." 

"Good. Neither do I," she said, pulling a notepad from the desk beside her and flicking it open. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"So, I'm being treated as a patient?"

Katie smiled at him. "Only until we find out whether you have a treatable condition," she told him, the sarcasm splitting the air between them. "That's what any good shrink would do." 

He laughed. No wonder Peter had entrusted him to this woman, she didn't take any prisoners. "Touché," he acknowledged, though his thoughts were racing. How many of his inner secrets was he was prepared to disclose? "Peter said it would be completely confidential," he said, glancing at Katie's notepad.

"Absolutely."

He pointed at the pad when she didn't take the hint. "That means, no record."

"I see," she nodded, closing the pad and returning it to the desk. Everything would have been confidential, but now wasn't the time to dispute the point. Besides, she had a well-trained memory. "In that case," she said, shooting him another confident yet empathetic smile, "Start when you're ready."




Politics Ch. 03



Start when he was ready? Shit! He was the Conservative Party leader, for God's sake. The matter of fact way she spoke made it sound as if he was at a tea party, about to give a speech. Whereas he was about to spill his guts out, admit to being a sex fiend, engaged in an out of control lifestyle! 

And he wasn't just about to confess to his sins like a parishioner to a priest. He was going to own up to them to this beautiful woman. The chemistry between them had been evident on their first, brief meeting. It was still there now, despite the uneasiness he felt about coming clean. He wanted this woman, and intuition told him she had similar feelings. 

Maybe he'd end up fucking his psychiatrist? 

Shit! Thoughts like those were why he was in this position in the first place!

"How long will this first meeting take?" he suddenly asked, more to delay the need to confess than anything else.

"Two hours is normal…" Katie began.

"Two hours?" his startled voice spat out. "Not possible. I can give you half an hour at most."

***

"What do you think?" Erika softly asked, running a soft hand along Rebecca's thigh as she drained the last of her wine. They were already on their second bottle of red. She made sure the gesture wasn't overtly sexual, more a friendly motion between two new friends united in a common aim.

"Wonderful," Rebecca enthused, making no attempt to move her leg away from the caressing fingers. The heady feeling created by the alcohol they'd consumed was matched by the successful progress they'd made. 

"I think we're on a winner," Erika murmured, holding her empty glass up. Rebecca quickly filled it. "Here's to the achievement of a dream," the blonde beauty toasted, clinking glasses.

They'd meticulously gone through every aspect of Brazilian beauty's aspirations and proposals, with Erika continually asking pertinent questions until she was happy everything was fully nailed down. She needed the information, of course, though not to secure the finance. Her agreement with Guus Kessen was cemented, irrespective of the case being presented. 

No, it was afterwards that she needed to be clear. She'd stay heavily involved, help Becky put everything in place, and make sure she was indispensable. When she took the dark haired beauty to her bed, she'd be a willing participant. And everything about the sexy twenty-two year old suggested that it was going to be an experience to be savoured…

Guus would savour her first, of course. His eagerness for the Brazilian woman's body was like that of a horny young teenager. And he'd only offer the raven-haired beauty the money she needed if she submitted to him. Erika hadn't been certain at first, but now she'd met Becky, she was sure. The hot aerobics instructor may need a little push in the right direction, but this meant too much to her.

When the chips were down, she'd give herself. Erika had no doubt.

"I don't know how to thank you," Rebecca told her new friend, leaning into Erika as the alcohol and euphoria swept through her body.

For a moment, the Swedish woman almost turned in for a Sapphic kiss. But no, that could spoil everything. She wasn't sure the sexy beauty was quite ready yet. Instead, she traced her fingers along Rebecca's thigh through the blue jeans again. 

"We'll find a way," she told her with that special come-on smile of hers. "But let's make it happen first. I'll put the finishing touches to your business plan tonight and have it delivered before your meeting tomorrow."

Erika twisted away, leaning forward to gather the papers they'd spread across the coffee table. The move—like all her moves—was a calculated one. She could feel her low-slung jeans tighten along the curve of her ass; she knew that the top of her red thong was on display. And she knew Rebecca wouldn't be able to resist looking.

"Meeting?" The woman's question came out in a choke. The blonde smiled to herself.

"Absolutely, Becky. Didn't I tell you, I have a financier lined up. I'll make sure a copy is delivered to him and another to you. That way he'll be prepared for when you arrive."

"But I've tried everywhere…"

Finishing her sexy bit of organization, she turned back to the Brazilian. "This is a private investor. He specialises in supporting small, new businesses. I'll include details in the pack I send with the plan, including the time and location of the appointment."

"This is a fairy tale," the raven-haired woman laughed, flopping back against the cushions of the couch. Her head was spinning. "I really can't thank you enough, Erika."

"You can thank me when the money is secured," the blonde woman smiled, staring at those wonderful lips. Steady, she told herself, one step at a time. "But listen, Becky, I've done everything I can. You need to do the same with the investor. Whatever he needs from you, you've got to give him…"

"I'll convince him," Rebecca said, opening her eyes and beaming at the woman sitting so close to her. "This means too much to me!" 

"You're sure?" Erika pressed, hammering home the message. "You'd do anything?"

"Anything!"

"Make sacrifices?"

Rebecca's big eyes widened further. "Erika, I want this more than anything. I'll make any sacrifice to make it come true."

Just what the Scandinavian temptress wanted to hear. Once Becky had given herself to Guus Kessen, the Dutchman would be in Erika's debt. That was important to her in view of Alistair's recent behaviour.

Since their night with Lady Olivia, she'd noticed a difference in his attitude. Not only had he turned down another opportunity of spending time with her and the aristocratic young woman, he'd only fucked her twice during the last week. A pang of conscience? Then there was Brian Sterling. She remembered only too well the look that Alistair gave to the woman with the Scot. Surely that couldn't be at the root of all of this?

Whatever the issue, intuition warned her that she needed to consider her options. Have a Plan B, as the English so cutely referred to it. 

Guus Kessen was her Plan B. 

By inveigling the multi millionaire into her sexual games, he'd present an acceptable alternative should Alistair be developing second thoughts. Okay, with his overweight frame he wasn't the most attractive of catches physically. But his multi millions more than made up for that.

Glancing at the Brazilian beauty beside her, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Eyes half closed, chest heaving, nipples clearly on show—an intoxicated Rebecca was clearly high on what the future held. 

"Tell me," Erika seductively whispered. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

The dark skinned young woman shook her head, though the instant blush on her face told Erika the thought wasn't a new one. All the signs were there. This was even better than she could have anticipated. Corrupting a straight woman was about as good as it got. And when they were as sexy as this one…

Leaning closer, Erika couldn't resist. She tilted her head very slightly to the right, allowing the hot, dark haired woman to see her wet her glossy lips in anticipation.

Pausing, she wanted Rebecca to make the final move. She watched for it. The Brazilian's large eyes were mesmerized, staring unblinking at the blonde's succulent mouth. Maybe she'd need a little bit more encouragement. 

With a soft sigh, Erika brushed her lips against the Brazilian woman's. Just a brush, then a pause, waiting for her response. She was risking everything, pushing so hard so quickly… But how could she resist this sensual beauty?

For a few seconds, Rebecca hesitated. Was she about to protest? Had Erika's instincts been off?

But then, the younger woman's toned body shifted almost imperceptibly, leaning into Erika. Her full lips parted, slightly at first, then wider, allowing the Swedish woman's tongue to flick inside. With a moan, the seductress dipped her face towards the brunette's again, tilting her head to a ninety-degree angle as she met tongue with tongue, swirling around each other in a playful dance.

"I have to go," Erika suddenly told her young friend, reluctantly pulling away. She was panting hard, close to taking the hot Brazilian bitch there and then on the couch. But the timing wasn't right. It might scare away her prey and she wanted to be sure. She didn't want a quick making out session; she wanted to own this woman's body.

The seeds had been sown…

***

"Half an hour, Alistair? That's not much time. But I understand your pressures. And how difficult it is to talk about some of these things. Look, how about this. Just talk about how you're feeling. Start anywhere. Just talk to me!"

She watched him struggle with where to start, what to say, and smiled encouragingly. For someone who might be about to run the country, he looked incredibly nervous, too. But God… he was handsome. 

As he tried to find a place to start, she allowed her imagination free reign. What was it they said about black men? He'd be much bigger than Eduardo—that was for sure. What would he do if she leant forward and unzipped him? Her eyes closed for a second as she imagined taking him in her mouth.

His deep sigh brought her back to the present. His face was twisted, as if he was attempting to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. He splayed his hands open, the master orator signifying the difficulty of encapsulating his problem in a few well-chosen words.

Katie waited patiently. What was it that was so difficult? This was the Conservative Party leader! How could he be tongue-tied? In other circumstances, she may have jumped in. She didn't. The confused man needed to find his own way forward.

"Okay," he said at last, the deep breath running through his body. "My childhood was a strict one. My parents were wealthy. They didn't take a lot of interest in my upbringing, but had a clear view of which direction their son should take. I guess that's what's made me the man I am today."

"A very successful one," Katie encouraged. 

He nodded. Yes, he was successful. But was it that success that had led him down the path he'd followed? "The problem is," he continued, "my lifestyle now, away from the public eye, would shame and embarrass me if it were known. It would certainly end my political career. And maybe cost me my inheritance."

Katie sat immobile, willing her body not to show her shock. "What sort of lifestyle?" she quietly asked, attempting to keep her voice level. Her smile was forced, while her brain searched through her personal experiences in an attempt to second-guess what he was going to say. 

She failed dismally.

"I'm not sure how relevant that is," he replied after a pause. There was that uncomfortable shuffle in his seat again.

"Not relevant?" she asked, maybe a little too quickly. That was stupid, she told herself. Don't scare him off. "Alistair, what I mean is, if I'm to help you, I really need to understand what your problems are. We don't have long…"

She watched every expression on his nervous face. His chest heaved as he looked away. His brow furrowed, then relaxed. He ran his hand through his hair before turning back to her. This was a confident politician for heaven's sake. Tell me! Tell me! 

"It's an addiction," he suddenly explained, almost jumping up from the couch and crossing the room to the large window. The triple glazing effectively shut out the heavy traffic in the street below, helping him gather his thoughts.

"Addiction to what?" Katie prompted, glancing at her watch.

He shrugged his shoulders as he swung back round to face her. "Sex," he simply said, the concession feeling like a weight had been removed from his mind. 

"Fuck me!" Katie exclaimed. Where the words came from, she had no idea. But they were out there before she could stop them.

The two of them burst into laughter, her inadvertent declaration instantly breaking the tension.

"Well," Alistair slowly drawled, "that's not the best offer to give to a sex addict, especially if you're attempting to cure me. Unless that's part of the therapy, of course?"

No, it's not part of the therapy. It would be gratuitous. But how about it? Here, on the couch? The floor? The desk? For a few seconds they stared at one another. The bastard was thinking the same thing. She knew that, she could tell. His shining eyes were already undressing her. 

Like what you see?

"At last," she said instead, acknowledging his confession. Her teeth pulled down on her lower lip like a schoolgirl with a crush, who'd drawn a confession from her favourite boy.

"At last," he repeated, drawing a deep breath and letting it go. 

Progress, she thought. Progress. But what progress!?! As a psychiatrist, she'd brought out the problem, which provided a platform to continue. But as a woman, this revelation was something else entirely.

There was something about this man. Something that reverberated around her body and ended between her thighs. And to think he was a sex addict! It didn't deter her. In fact, the thought of him taking her, animal like, pummelling down into her, brought a feeling inside her that even this morning's session with of Eduardo hadn't been able to.

She crossed her legs, trying to stem the rush. "We should leave it there," she stammered, attempting to project some vestige of professionalism. "You're time is up, Alistair, and don't forget that Brian has asked to see you before you leave."

His eyes widened. "So, Katie? Where does this leave us?"

"Your call," she said, aware of the tremor in her voice. "There's no magic wand, but through discussion we may be able to put certain things in perspective. That'll help you rationally decide what's acceptable to you… and what isn't."

Alistair smiled. There was no question that he wanted to see this woman again. And not purely on a professional basis. "I'd like that." 

***

"What are you doing here?" Rebecca de Santos asked her boyfriend. She hadn't expected him home for hours yet.

"I wanted to create some time for us," he told her, flashing that grin of his as he pushed the apartment door closed behind him. "So, you and I are going out to dinner. You can tell me all about your meeting with Erika."

"She didn't tell you?" Rebecca asked, her voice apprehensive at the recollection of their kiss. It hadn't left her mind since Erika had left. She'd often wondered what it felt like to kiss a woman and now she knew. It was the drink, of course. But if the opportunity came along again, she might well try it again. It wasn't serious, but it had been fun…

"Just said the two of you had got on famously and she has high hopes," Thomas answered, the innocent expression on his face confirming that was as much as he knew. "I want to hear all about it."

"You will," Becky said, while thinking, Well… not quite all. "But right now, I have a better idea than dinner."

The sultry, languid movements as she rose from the couch had him growing hard, even before her hands criss-crossed to the bottom of her tee shirt. She pulled it over her head as she approached him, freeing her tanned, braless breasts. She reached out to drag his hands onto her naked swells, mashing them against her already aroused swells, her nipples poking into his palms.

"You're in for a hell of a night," she told him as she crushed his lips with her own. Her arms went around his neck, curling through his shaggy, golden hair. Geez, his hands felt good on her tits. "Where?" she grunted.

"Bed?" he suggested. "Just for a change?"

"Don't be boring," she mumbled into his mouth, taking his hand and dragging him towards the kitchen. Leaving him at the door, she turned to face him as she teasingly took two backward steps. Her smouldering dark eyes promised everything.

Unsnapping the top button of her jeans, she leant back against the washing machine to steady herself as she shimmied out of them and kicked them away. Her black thong followed. "You like?"

Thomas grunted. His girlfriend's naked body always excited him. How could anyone so voluptuous be so toned? And that dark, Latin American skin of hers! His eyes devoured her breasts, dropped to the dangling belly piercing and then down to the deliciously smooth mound underneath.

"I see you do," she giggled, watching the lust reflecting back in his eyes. Resting her palms on the washing machine's white surface, she pulled herself upwards, her legs lewdly splayed out before her as she sat on the top. "Well, just going to stand there? Don't you want to fuck?"

Her words had the desired effect. Thomas was catching the early flight to Belfast tomorrow, and if he could spend the night fucking rather than eating, he wasn't going to complain. Besides, they had some catching up to do…

He pulled off his red, silk tie and unbuttoned his shirt as he crossed the floor. Becky helped him remove the rest of his clothing, both pairs of hands frantically getting him ready for action. With a grunt, she slid her hand into his black boxers, impatiently grabbing his rigid member. 

"Come on, hurry," she urged, lowering her mouth to his nipple and biting.

"Fuck, Becky, that hurts," he whimpered, feeling like a wimp as the words spilled out, but still feeling the sharp pain around his nipple.

"Then get that thing inside me," she grunted, pushing his boxers down his legs as she wrapped her athletic legs around him. With a rough jerk, she took a firmer hold of his thick manhood and despite the awkward position, fitted him against her already wet pussy.

She kissed him again, momentarily thinking that his lips didn't feel as sweet as Erika's. But as he rubbed the head of his cock across her smooth pussy lips, the thought disappeared into the back of her mind. Her hips jutted upward as his cock sank into her, bringing that delicious gasp she always gave at entry. 

"Oh, yes!" she growled against his ear as she adjusted to his girth. "It's days since you were inside me, you bastard! Days!"

"I know!" he grunted back, their lips clashing again as her inner walls closed around him. "Want to make up for it?"

"Oh, Thomas, you have no idea," she cried, her round buttocks sliding across the smooth top of the machine. "We're going through the night, baby! Now shut up and fuck me…"

There was no more talk, only an exchange of soft moans and hard grunts. His mouth closed on hers, jamming his tongue hard down her throat. Her hands were in his golden hair, gripping it tighter in her lust. Thomas gripped her hips, thrusting hard as she looped her legs around his back. 

It was awkward, yet thrilling at the same time. The washing machine thudded hollowly against the wall as their fucking intensified. Boom, boom, boom!

"What's after this?" she grunted into his ear, running her tongue around the outside. "The refrigerator? Counter top? Trash can?" 

Her teeth bit down onto his earlobe as she spoke, stilling any potential reply. He pulled his head away to escape the pain, though his cock remained buried inside her. Her ankles dug into the top of his ass, giving her the leverage to force him as deep as he could go. 

Becky clenched her teeth as the heat of her body climbed higher. She tossed her dark, glossy hair back, now damp with sweat. Her heels dug harder into his ass as he began to thrust. The washer absorbed the blows with loud, dramatic reverberations.

"Yes… yes… yes!" she grunted as she grabbed his hands and pulled them to her tits. She loved her breasts being pleasured when she was on the verge. Her hands dug into his back as her orgasm approached. Grunting in Portuguese, her fingernails scraped into his flesh as she climaxed.

"YES!" she screamed. "Keep fucking me. Thomas…"

He did, continuing to thrust inside her throughout her orgasm. When the thudding noise of the washing machine against the wall became too much, he picked up her athletic body up, clutching her ass to keep them upright.




Politics Ch. 04



Chapter 4: Resisting temptation

The tension between Erika and Alistair had been palpable throughout the flight. Thomas had tried to ignore it, but Sally's constant nudges in his ribs and her darting eyes in their direction made that impossible. Even the taxi ride to the Belfast City Hall had been awkward, so much so it had been a relief when Alistair and Erika separated to attend to individual matters that somehow had mysteriously appeared from nowhere.

"What the hell is all that about?" Thomas asked, as he tugged Sally's arm, pulling her to one side.

"They've had an argument," the redhead confided. "That meeting he had with Brian Sterling yesterday? He's arranged a follow up for early afternoon."

"What? He can't! Why?"

Sally shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea. It took me some manoeuvring to get him on a return flight, I can tell you. It means he'll miss the press lunch afterwards."

"You're kidding?"

Sally raised her eyebrows. "Unfortunately not this time. He wants you and I to handle it." 

"He hasn't told me."

"No, well, with Erika being so pissed with him, he probably didn't want to mention it again in front of her."

Thomas nodded, glancing around at the rapidly filling hall. He and Sally wouldn't have their privacy for much longer. "Erika's not returning with him?"

"Apparently not. She wanted to, but he asked her to 'take care' of things here, as if you and I couldn't do that."

"Interesting," mused Thomas, pulling her further into the corner so they couldn't be overheard. "D'you think this has something to do with their swinging lifestyle?"

"Get you!" Sally joked, poking him in the ribs with her elbows. "Been thinking about that, have we?"

Despite himself, Thomas found himself blushing. "Don't be silly."

"Silly?" she asked, those big eyes flashing at him. There was something really sexy about his innocence. God, the stories she could tell him about a swinging lifestyle. If he was blushing now...

She temporarily dismissed the thought and returned to the subject. "Listen, Thomas, I've done a little digging..."

"And?"

"This Brian Sterling. He's a psychiatrist."

The two stood in silence, staring at one another. Sally raised her eyebrows.

"What?" Thomas eventually asked, the look in his eyes betraying his bemusement. "You think the Leader of the Conservative Party is seeing a psychiatrist?"

The redhead burst out laughing. "Got ya! No, you fool. Why the hell would he need a shrink? This Sterling guy is the Senior Partner in the leading practice in London. I'd say we're talking about a pretty big donation, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe," Thomas mused. "But that still doesn't explain why he doesn't want Erika to accompany him."

***

What was it that Erika had suggested before she left? 

Wear a dress. Men like women in dresses—something short, but not too short. And show off that fabulous cleavage of yours.

It would work. She knew that from the way Guus Kessen had looked at her during the odd function she'd attended with Thomas. If the lecherous old bastard hadn't been so important to Thomas, she would have told him where to go. In the circumstances, that would have been disastrous!

Especially as her boyfriend had told her he'd secured the businessman's support for Alistair Brinkley-Jones. What a coincidence that Erika knew him, too. Or perhaps that was how the blonde woman had met him? It didn't really matter. What was important was that Erika had somehow secured his interest as a potential backer and she had to make the most of that. 

With Kessen's roving eye, that shouldn't be too difficult, should it?

She hated men who made their lustful intentions so obvious. Especially when they did so openly, and in front of her boyfriend, too. Thomas had laughed when she'd complained. He's harmless enough.

Well, harmless he may be, but she'd found the way his eyes undressed her to be unforgivable. Wasn't it ironic that she'd now use her sexuality to get what she wanted? Disguise her dislike for the overweight businessman. Flirt with him a little. Laugh at his jokes. Men liked that, didn't they? They were such uncomplicated creatures, so easy to read. 

Erika had been right. A dress was required. Her red sundress, in fact. It was short enough to show off her long, dark brown legs to perfection. And low cut enough to have him drooling over her tits. He'd be putty in her hands!

Dropping her thin robe to the floor, she surveyed her naked body in the full-length bedroom mirror. Her hands cupped her tits, a surge of excitement consuming her. Here you are, Mr. Kessen, she laughed to herself, want to suck on these and then give me thirty thousand pounds?

Her nipples grew hard. Could she really be on the verge of clinching a deal for her dream? She knew she could make the business work, make it profitable. She'd make Kessen see that, too. It was such a shame that Thomas was in Belfast. He could have told her the best way to handle the Dutchman. 

She let out a delicious little giggle as she pulled on the skimpy red thong and reached for her dress. If the business plan didn't convince the millionaire, her outfit would! A flagrant display of sexuality had always worked at home in Brazil. It had snared her many a man in her teenage days, most of them married, too. They were always the best. 

They knew how to make love; how to treat a woman.

Those days were behind her, of course. She was a faithful girl now. Thomas was her true love. But she still knew how to manipulate a man...

Slipping into the little red number, she checked herself in the mirror again. Her breasts were practically exploding over the top. Thank goodness she didn't need a bra. God, she was so aroused at the thought of what she was about to do, she might even let the old bastard suck her tits, just as a thank you. Her nipples nudged the material at the thought.

She smoothed her sundress across her body, loving the way her long legs flowed out of the thigh high skirt. The Dutchman's eyes would pop out! 

Wish me luck, she murmured to her reflection.

***

With the general public crowding into the stately Belfast hall, surrounded by the lobby of reporters to their left, and TV cameras to the right, it was almost impossible to fit anyone else into the impressive room. 

The three politicians exchanged small talk with one another on the large stage, all smiles for the benefit of anyone who was watching. But Alistair could see the look of nervous excitement in Collinson and Blair's eyes. He could feel the tension, too, as the claustrophobic atmosphere built. 

The idol of Northern Ireland introduced himself to the three men moments before the debate was due to start. Ronan P. O'Mara was a silver haired fifty-year-old, sporting what was now his trademark perfectly groomed handlebar moustache. If it wasn't for the colourful bow tie adorned with small Mickey Mouse figures, Alistair might have made the mistake of taking him seriously.

"Well, gentlemen, I want a good clean fight," the Irishman began, smiling at the audience in front of him as he led them to their chairs and immediately opened the debate. The way he guffawed and winked at both the TV cameras and the general public gave the impression it was a pre-rehearsed line.

Things started slowly. O'Mara told everyone he'd give them a minute after each question to make their point, and then allowed both Collinson and Blair around five minutes each to respond to the most innocuous question of the many selected from his late night show.

"And you, Alistair," he smiled, turning at last to Brinkley-Jones. "What's your view?"

"Heck, Ronan, I don't know," the black politician joked. As expected, the comment got the audience's attention. Something needed to after the dull start. "It's been so long, I can't remember the question."

Thomas nudged Sally at the back of the hall as the roar of laughter went up. This was the perfect start. He knew this format was made for his boss, despite Alistair's doubts yesterday. Satisfied with the opening, he visibly relaxed as the debate continued. With each witty yet constructive reply, the Conservative Party leader quickly established himself as the people's favourite. 

"You were right yesterday," Sally whispered into Thomas's ear. "The more the public gets to see Brinkley-Jones the person, the better we're going to do."

"Have you ever known me not be right?" he joked back.

Sally batted her eyelashes. "You're my hero!"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "I know."

They burst into laughter, leaning against each other as their raised eyebrows told the other to cool it. People were glancing in their direction.

"He's good," Sally whispered, as another round of applause rang out.

"Outstanding," Thomas replied, feeling more than a little smug. "Did you just hear that answer on MP expenses, after George Blair fumbled his way through it? I'm telling you, Sally, convincing him to come here was a brainwave."

"As I said," she smiled, "you're my hero. Ever thought of wearing your underpants outside your trousers?"

Thomas grinned back at her. "What underpants?"

The redhead wasn't fazed. "I know what you mean, I go commando, too. Want to check?" As he momentarily paused, she let out that little girl laugh of hers. She wore a high-waisted pencil skirt and blouse. Thomas had found himself staring at her rounded buttocks more than a few times, searching for panty lines he never found. Was she telling the truth? "Got ya," she whispered, shooting him a child-like grin.

When he pulled a face, her glossy, red lips blew him a kiss. His cock reacted. Steady boy, he told himself. She's married, and you have a girlfriend.

***

Katie Nichols found herself smiling as she watched the debate. Having a television set in the corner of each partner's room occasionally had its benefits. This was one of those. So was the half hour break before her next appointment, but that time was nearly up.

Was this really the nervous man who'd been with her yesterday? Who'd been so insistent that he saw her again today? She wanted that, too, of course. Yes, she wanted to help him, but it was more than that. A fatal attraction, perhaps? She hadn't been able to get the politician out of her mind. Nor the thoughts of his black cock! What would it look like? How big would it be? How would he feel in her mouth? What would his cum taste like?

She'd imagined him while she'd masturbated last night. Fantasised about his cock. Not just in her mouth, but fucking her. Pounding her.

Oh, God!

The clock on the wall above the couch told her she had five minutes. In her heightened state, it was enough. Her right hand dropped down between her thighs, pushing the loose skirt up her legs and working its way inside her panties. Oh fuck, yes! She so needed this.

Glancing across at her closed door, she rubbed her middle finger up and down her already wet lips. Her breath caught as the moment overtook her. She loved that first touch, caressing her clit, feeling her wet juices. She always thought of a man's head between her thighs at moments like this.

It was Alistair's head.

She widened her legs and planted her feet firmly on the ground, giving herself leverage as she lifted her ass and felt her clit respond. That's it! There... right there...

When she jammed a finger inside her sweet pussy, she felt her orgasm begin to swirl. A second finger and it was there. She rammed them inside her. Except it wasn't her fingers spreading her open. It was a thick, black cock.

Oh, fuck... oh fuck oh fuck...

***

The ease with which Alistair was handling both the questions and his opponents kept him ahead of the game without needing to break sweat. 

Unable to take advantage of their sharp witted opponent, Collinson and Blair had tried to freeze him out by turning the attack on each other. But Brinkley-Jones turned that to his advantage, too. He switched personas to become the statesman, interceding now and again to offer a more pragmatic view than the aggressive diatribe spouted by the others. 

"A masterclass," Sally whispered.

Thomas nodded happily. Alistair was racking up the brownie points, both with the watching audience in the crowded hall and also on television.

The economy, elaborate health care schemes, MP expenses, petrol taxes, state pensions, back-to-work initiatives were all raised. After the first two protagonists fiercely debated their points, the Conservative Leader stepped in and, with a few well-chosen words, brought yet another round of applause from the majority of the locals.

If this didn't boost their poll ratings, nothing would.

Thomas could only watch in heaving admiration. Despite all the rumours of George Blair's shady dealings in the past, there was no doubt he had a strong reputation as a public speaker, yet his boss was tying even the loquacious Labour Leader in knots. It was poetry in motion...

"Wait a minute," Sally whispered as a thought occurred to her. "We were pretty lucky that Alistair is the last to answer questions. Don't they usually mix it up so that no one has an advantage?"

"Usually," Thomas answered with a grin.

The redhead stared at him for a moment, and then realisation dawned. "You didn't..."

He nodded, pushing a hand through his farmer boy hair. "I've done a few deals with Ronan in my time. A few crates of champagne are on their way to his home even right now. Untraceable, of course."

Her wide eyes grinned at him. Well, well, she getting to know more about Thomas Kincaid the longer they spent together. There really was something about him that appealed, a sexual frisson that gave her goose bumps at times. It was such a shame that he was so in love with Becky. But then again, she liked a challenge...

The summing up session offered one more opportunity to leave a lasting impression. Collinson wasted his chance with a rambling portrayal of everything the Liberal Party believed in. All good stuff, but delivered so flatly that he was close to being a cure for insomnia.

George Blair performed much better. With only an audience to face rather than two real life opponents, he found his usual eloquent style to explain how the future would be safer with another term for Labour. The Liberals—they weren't a serious alternative! The Tories—far too inexperienced for such uncertain times! Labour? The perfect combination of experience and good judgement that the country was crying out for!

"And you, Mr. Brinkley-Jones," Ronan P. O'Mara smiled, adjusting his bow tie as he turned to the Conservative politician on his left. "You've heard what your two fellow leader's have had to say. Impressive stuff, too. What thought would you like to leave us with?"

"Yes," Alistair lied, "impressive rhetoric from both my colleagues. "But good people of Northern Ireland, I've explained throughout the evening what I believe in. Let me tell you what I don't believe in."

He smiled at Collinson and then at Blair as he rose from his seat. Stepping forward, the people in the front row were so close they could almost reach out and touch him. That gave him an idea.

"An interesting approach," O'Mara quipped with another guffaw, smoothing his silver hair as he showed his teeth to the camera.

"It is," Brinkley-Jones agreed with a friendly smile, stepping down from the small platform and wandering up the small aisle in the middle of the audience. "But it's important, too. Because what I don't believe in..." he began 

Sally nudged Thomas. "What's he doing? This isn't in the script!"

"It's perfect," he instantly responded, the admiration evident in his eyes as he stared across at the black politician. "Perfect! He's got them in the palm of his hand. Now just make it good!"

"What I don't believe in is the current Government's approach of doing nothing when the bottom drops out of the economy and the good folks of Northern Ireland, who've worked so hard all their lives, are looking for guidance."

The spontaneous burst of applause drowned out his second point, so he eased back and allowed it to die down. 

"No, sir," he continued. "I believe in backing the good people of this country. I believe in supporting the people of Northern Ireland. I believe in creating opportunities for the people throughout Great Britain! That's what I believe..."

The applause erupted, just as if the audience were reacting to their own script.

"The Government haven't done that," he continued. "Let me ask you a question," he said, turning around three-sixty degrees in an instant. "Whose fault is it we're in the current economic mess?"

Shouts of 'Labour' echoed around the room.

"And have you heard anything from George Blair today that makes you think they'll do any better going forward?"

"Noooo..." came the concerted cry.

"Have you heard anything from Paul Collinson that gives you comfort?"

"Noooo..."

"And neither have I!" he said, arms held out wide. "Strange, don't you think?"

He paused again to allow the ironic laughter to subside.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I've set out today my approach for the future. My way! The Conservative way." Banging his fist into his palm at, he purposely strode back to his seat, but turned to face the audience before he sat. "It's the best way. It's the only way! Ladies and gentlemen, vote Conservative!"

With an extravagant bow, he took the applause as just about every person in the room rose to their feet.

Thomas glanced at Sally. Her beam was as wide as his. In some ways, it was a cringe-worthy finish, full of platitudes with little substance. But it was just what this audience wanted to hear. And if the television audience felt the same, they were back on track. More than back, they'd be ahead of the game.

The press lunch would provide the ideal opportunity to capitalise on the goodwill. It was just unfortunate that Alistair no longer planned to attend.

***

The overweight Dutchman stepped to one side to usher the Brazilian beauty into his impressive office. Bookcases lined the four walls, and his imposing mahogany desk sat centrally, a chair either side. The room was curiously bare otherwise, increasing the feeling of space. 

"Thanks, Marjorie," he half-smiled at his departing receptionist, turning to run his eyes over the sexy apparition in front of him. From the lascivious look on his face, it seemed her choice of dress was perfect for the occasion.

"Rebecca!" he said in that clipped Dutch accent. He resting his thick hands on her bare shoulders as he planted a kiss on both her cheeks. "Such a pleasure. Please, have a seat."

She almost asked him to call her Becky, but some instinct stopped her. Keeping it at Rebecca somehow kept a distance between them. With his curly, black hair and bright smile, he looked more impressive than she remembered. And he looked immaculate in the dark blue suit and tie, and the crisp white shirt. Only the bead of sweat on his forehead spoilt the image.

"Mr. Kessen," she softly said, flashing him a beaming smile, catching his eyes homing in on her cleavage as she lowered herself into the black chair on the opposite side of the desk to his.

"Guus," he murmured, almost waddling around the heavy desk to his seat. "Please call me Guus. How good it is to see you again after all this time."

"You, too," the young beauty responded, keeping her eyes firmly on his. Be confident and act confident! It's only thirty thou, after all.

"Coffee or chilled water?" he asked, indicating the tray on the right hand side of his desk.

"Water, please... thank you," she answered, her hand flicking her dark, wavy hair back over one shoulder. "So, how are you?"

"I'm very well," his pinprick eyes regarding her fondly. He poured a glass and handing it over to her before speaking further. "Prospering nicely, in fact. And I've just concluded an arrangement set up by that boyfriend of yours. I think that pretty soon we'll have Alistair Brinkley-Jones as the next Prime Minister, and his delightful girlfriend supporting him."




Politics Ch. 04



That gave Rebecca the opening she wanted. Get to the point, get what she wanted, and get out of there. "Yes, Erika. She's the one who set up our meeting. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're prepared to look at my proposition."

"Grateful?" he murmured, almost making the word sound dirty as his eyes dropped to her cleavage and back again. From the glint in them, this could be much easier than she thought. "So... why don't you tell me how I can help?"

The question threw her out of her stride. She'd thought he'd be fully up to date. "Erika didn't send you the business plan?"

"Oh, yes," he murmured, picking up his own glass of water and sipping it as if he were tasting fine wine. "And I've read it through. Thoroughly. A very impressive document, I have to say. Makes the case admirably. But before I invest, I like to hear from the person I'm investing in. A business plan is one aspect, but this is much more personal, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," she smiled back, wondering exactly what it was he meant. "What I need is a loan, Guus, to open an exercise studio here in London. When it's successful, I'll look to open more, so you'll get an excellent return on your investment." 

"My investment..."

She nodded. Erika had told her to start with the bottom line, so she did. "Thirty thousand pounds."

The amount seemed much greater now that she actually said it out loud. It was serious money. The small whistle the Dutchman gave through his teeth confirmed her fears. Was she asking for too much? Erika hadn't thought so. Hell, he was a millionaire! What was she thinking about!

"I have five thousand pounds of my own," she continued, leaning forward in her enthusiasm. His eyes dipped to her deep cleavage. That's it, Guus, she thought, holding the pose. Keep looking. "That's going into the venture, too. Upfront. So you can see I'm serious about this. But I need the loan if I'm to make the whole thing viable."

He looked at her quizzically, as if contemplating the position. "That's an awful lot of money," he said at last. "Perhaps you feel it doesn't mean that much to me because of my wealth? But I didn't make my fortune by wasting it on someone so young and for an unproven venture."

"Wasting it?" she blurted, starting to feel uncomfortable. This wasn't going the way she'd imagined. "Guus, it's a great investment..."

***

Once the obligatory handshakes and photographs had taken place, the three political leaders were taken to the large dining room. The press, predictably enough, were waiting for them. Although Alistair's announcement that he was required back in London drew murmurs of disapproval, the delay in presenting the food on offer seemed more of a problem for the assembled media.

"Personal matter," Thomas and Sally kept repeating, sticking to the party line when they were subsequently asked his whereabouts. "But we'll be more than glad to field any questions you have."

Erika floated around in the background, drawing attention through her stunning looks rather than through any political aspect. She stayed firmly on that particular script, referring all questions to her two colleagues. Even so, Thomas quickly appreciated what a wonderful draw she was. Perhaps he could set up a deal with one of the magazines? Hello, perhaps?

The buffet style lunch was specifically designed to ensure the media had full access to the three leaders and their PR people, press, providing a more detailed and intimate briefing as possible. With Alistair on his way to the airport, Thomas and Sally worked overtime, particularly as the Conservative Leader was the main topic of conversation after his performance.

Thomas found himself sharing Erika's frustration. He'd worked bloody hard to set this up, and it was the perfect opportunity for Alistair to reinforce his good work during the debate. There wouldn't be too many more chances like this as the General Election day loomed.

All he could do was make the best of the situation, and he made sure he and Sally did exactly that. Dealing with the political questions was straightforward enough, of course. The Conservative Party's manifesto was out there, and their policies had been crystal clear for some time, even if Alistair had been able to make them sound fresh and incredibly attractive during the debate.

No, the real opportunities lay in extolling Alistair's virtues. 

'The People's Hero' was a phrase bouncing around Thomas's mind. That's what he'd come over as in the hall, and if he could get a leading broadsheet to latch onto it, the publicity would be worth its weight in gold.

"You're joking," Sally gasped, when he whispered it to her.

"It's great," he quietly told her, low enough so that they couldn't be overheard. "Everyone's agreed his performance was exceptional, but we need a hook to hang it on, something of substance. Push it."

Thomas comfortably coped with his absence, offering the leading press—the real influencers—future sessions with the now sought after Conservative Party leader. In groups, of course, he explained, to maximise their coverage in view of the natural time constraints. But he'd ensure it was worth their while.

Reaction was even better than he could have anticipated. This morning had seen the start of the snowball, and with careful press and campaign management, it would roll all the way into number ten.

Erika drifted away towards the end of the session, telling them that her favourite dressmaker awaited. With Alistair gone, she wouldn't be available for the two press dinners that Thomas and Sally were hosting that evening, but she'd catch up with them both for a full briefing at the airport tomorrow before their return flight.

That was okay, they could handle everything from here. In fact, Thomas preferred it that way. It allowed him the control he needed to do things his way. Influencing the media wasn't easy. Sally was good at it, and so was he. They could have them eating out of their hands if they played their cards correctly. And Thomas was good at cards, too...

Time to wrap up, he thought, when the majority of the remaining media decided it was time to depart to a nearby hostelry. Sally was dealing with someone across the room, but when the look on her face changed and she sent a help me glance across at him, he realised they'd hit a problem.

He smiled his way through the departing press and across to where she was standing. Her posture looked as uncomfortable as her expression, the hint of relief when he took her arm palpable.

"This is Jack Murphy," she told him, nodding at the spindly, reporter standing a couple of feet away. "From the Belfast Telegraph."

"Northern Ireland's leading daily," the bald man dryly explained.

"Pleased to meet you," Thomas smiled, shaking the limp hand. He didn't recognise the man, which meant he wasn't one of the regulars covering the election. A local hack, no doubt. So what the hell was the problem? 

"So, Jack, how can we help you?" he asked, his voice at its warmest and friendliest.

"Your boss," the man said in a thick Irish brogue. He pushed his rimless glasses back up his nose. "Has he ever mentioned the name Mary O'Leary?"

"No. Should he?"

"Mary O'Leary is a young woman from Derry," Murphy explained. "She met Mr. Brinkley-Jones when he was over here, eight months ago."

"Okay," Thomas answered, his heart sinking into his boots at the thought of what was coming next. No! Please God. It couldn't be!

"She gives birth next month," the gaunt man stated, not a flicker of a smile anywhere near his face. "I'd like a quote from your boss."

Oh fuck!

"A quote. In relation to what, Jack?"

He knew the answer before the thin reporter told him. "As to whether he's rebutting her accusation that he's the father."

Ohhh fuuuuuck! 

"I'll keep it quiet until you get back to me," the Irish reporter said. "We want this to stay as my exclusive, after all. Here's my card. Call me tomorrow or it'll be all over the front page."

***

Kessen allowed the vision across the desk to see the doubt written all over his face. Maybe he should be in movies? She really believed his hesitation! 

The Brazilian beauty had walked into his office full of confidence, thinking she only had to shake her tits to get what she wanted. Think again. Money was power. It was why the overweight Dutchman had been so successful in seducing women. Okay, there'd been a few regrettable failures, but he didn't intend to allow this voluptuous creature to be one of them.

Normally, he would have come straight out with it, but that wouldn't work with this one. He was aware of her Brazilian temperament. He'd even seen it once, when she'd laid into a drunken restaurant waiter who'd been trying to belittle Thomas. She'd been wonderful. Just think how wild and uninhibited she'd be in bed.

Whatever she thought, Guus Kessen wasn't anyone's fool. He'd seen the way she'd looked at him when they'd met at the occasional function. Okay, he may have leered at her, but her response was one of disgust. They'd see how disgusted she became when his cock was buried inside her!

But for now, one step at a time. He wanted her to be willing. But if he had to force her, he'd get a kick out of that, too.

"The business plan is on the table behind you," he murmured, smiling at the nervous beauty as he waved his hand. "Pass it across to me, would you?"

He didn't need the document, of course. But women were like business deals. Take it slowly. Make them wonder. Give nothing away. His eyes ran over her body as she took a step towards the table to pick up the blue file. Those firm buttocks made his mouth water, and he loved the way the short and loose sundress draped across them. When she turned back towards him, her superb unsupported breasts heaved in time with her heavy breathing.

"Very impressive," he murmured when she passed him the file. He waited for the explosion. There was none. In normal circumstances, even a hint of his eyes so obviously on her body would have provoked a negative reaction. Erika had been right, she really did need this money.

Rebecca blushed as she silently sat back down again with a slight bump. Her breasts bounced deliciously under her dress. Kessen licked his lips at the sight. His gaze found hers but instead of blazing their disapproval back at him, she crossed her slender legs and kept her eyes down, looking into her lap. 

"So, you'll help?" she eventually asked, feeling her nipples harden like two little bullets as a result of his blatant gaze. If she weren't careful, she'd lose control of this situation. Lose her dream.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well actually, Rebecca. I do want to help you. I want to help Thomas. And I want to help Erika."

She smiled with relief. "Thank you..." she began.

"But the proposition has to work," he interrupted.

"It does work!" 

"Yes, yes," he patiently smiled. "On paper it does. Of course, business is not concluded on paper. I find the personal touch is more important, don't you?"

"Personal touch?" It was the second time he'd made the comment. Time to understand exactly what he was getting at. What would this cost her?

"Personal touch," he repeated. "People are what make businesses work. How much effort they put in. How much they're willing to sacrifice. How far will you go, Rebecca?"

She paused for a second. This was it. The bastard was putting her to the test. How far was she willing to go in pursuit of her dream?

Kessen rose and slowly walked around the desk. Her worried eyes nervously followed him. The Dutchman straightened his blue silk tie, smiling at her as he moved closer. He smoothed a hand through his curly, black hair. "How much do you really want this, Rebecca?" 

He saw the frown cover her forehead. He had her where he wanted. His heart beat faster at the thought of that fabulous body being exposed to him. Stopping behind her, he slipped his podgy hands onto her slim shoulders. "How important is it?" he persuasively asked again.

She sat quietly, knowing where this was going, but only too well aware of her limits. She wouldn't betray Thomas, not even for this.

"Rebecca," his comforting voice continued. His fat fingers dug into her tense muscles through the material of the dress. "If I understand this correctly, I'm your last hope? I know how tough this must be for you. I can feel the tension in your shoulders. We both know I can help you, don't we? Try to relax and think about what I'm saying."

He eased his fingers forward. Slowly. Giving her the chance to resist. She didn't. Her body was shaking, but she made no move to stop him. His fat fingers dipped down over the slope of her shoulders and edged closer to her tawny skinned breasts that were so clearly on show under the red dress. 

He continued his soft persuasion. "Don't throw this chance away. I can give you your dream, Rebecca. What do you think?" 

She felt her breath coming in short pants. He hadn't overtly suggested anything, but she was only too well aware of what he was proposing. 

"Let's work on that tension whilst you think," he whispered, smiling down. From his position, he could almost see her nipples. He could feel himself growing hard. His fingers lightly massaged her lower neck, caressing the soft skin just inside the fabric of her dress. Each stroke edged a little more of the material away and revealed even more of her cleavage. 

"Please, stop, Guus," she said, her voice a strained whisper. It was difficult to think. She lifted her right hand onto his. 

He could see her nipples pushing against the material. His soft caresses were having the desired effect. So was his promise of helping her attain her dream. Only her stupid loyalty to her boyfriend was stopping her from succumbing. He needed to help her find a way across the mental barrier.

"Rebecca, we need to get rid of all that tension. You know that. And thirty thousand pounds... thirty thousand pounds! The dream you want. All yours!

She dropped her hand away from his. "Guus..."

His stroking fingers dipped lower inside her dress. They flirted with the swell of her breasts. Her delectable mounds erotically rose and fell. He had her where he wanted and wasn't about to let his prey escape.

"Guus, I can't think straight," she told him, but even as she uttered the words, his wrists pushed the thin straps of the sundress from her shoulders, the top dropping to her waist. Her jutting breasts were exposed.

Her dark skin added to the wonderful eroticism of the sight below him. Her wonderfully full swells looked impervious to the forces of gravity and already, her dark nipples were bullet hard and begging to be sucked.

This magnificent woman was his!

***

"You've cancelled your appointments for the afternoon?" Brian Sterling snapped, waving the nervous woman into his office. "Come in, come in."

Katie shuffled forward, gently pushing the door closed behind her. 

"I've never heard of such a thing," he continued. "Why?"

Her answer was to the point. "Alistair Brinkley-Jones."

Sterling removed his black wood half rim eyeglasses and waved them in the direction of the large couch in the corner of his office. Katie quickly took the indicated seat, leaning forward as she rested her elbows on her knees. 

"What did Alistair say about his visit yesterday," she hesitantly asked.

The Senior Partner paused, twirling the glasses in one hand and then popping one end of the black frames into his mouth. Katie watched him closely. Why the hell was he deliberating? 

"Come on, Brian," she insisted. "I feel like I'm working with one hand behind my back already. If you really want me to help him, don't hold out on me. I'm not asking for any personal secrets, just an overview of whether he found our time together helpful."

The Scot slowly nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "You're quite right, of course. Yes. Yes, he did, Katie. He found the whole thing very difficult. Not the process, or how you handled it, but just getting to the point of admitting his problem to you."

"I see," she softly replied. The pieces of the jigsaw fitted so far.

"What... what exactly is the problem?" Sterling asked.

Katie's head jerked up. "You don't know?"

"No, I don't," the Senior Partner confessed, slipping his glasses back on again as if they offered some protection from his embarrassment. It wasn't a question she could answer, even in these circumstances. A patient's issues were always confidential between them and their psychiatrist. "I'm sorry," he quickly added. "Unprofessional."

"Did he say he wanted to continue?"

"Yes," Sterling answered, linking the fingers of both hands as he stared at her. "He was insistent on it, in fact."

"That's why I've postponed my appointments," Katie explained. "Diana is rearranging them. You said to give him priority, that's what I'm doing."

The Scot nodded again. "Yes, I understand. I appreciate that, Katie."

She leant back for the first time since she'd sat on the couch. The next piece of news wouldn't go down quite so well. "I'm seeing Alistair at his house."

Sterling's eyes widened. "His house?" he snapped.

Katie nodded bashfully. It was against all the rules. "That's why I wanted to run it past you," she told him. 

"Run it past me?" he said, standing and resting his palms on the antique desk. "The answer is no. We don't see patients at their houses. It's out of the question, Katie. You know that as well as I do."

"I'll cancel, then," she told him, her voice calm as she met his eyes head on. "But Brian, it was you who asked me to help Alistair. As a favour! And you've stressed the importance of confidentiality. You've even threatened to fire anyone who mentions his visit."

The Senior Partner slowly sat back down, mulling over her words. She pressed them home.

"He can hardly come in here for another appointment, can he? He asked me to visit him incognito at his home and I said I would have to check with you. But if you want me to help him, you tell me. What else can I do?"

Sterling stared at her for a few moments. Long enough for Katie to think she may have overstepped the mark. Her voice softened. "Brian, I'm trying to help your friend. And I'm trying to protect his and your confidential relationship at the same time..."

"Yes," he interrupted, conceding the position. "You're right. And you've dealt with it as you should, talking to me first. I can't say I'm happy about the situation, but I'm hardly in a position to complain."

"I'll do my job."

Sterling nodded again. "I know that, Katie. Just one word of warning. If it goes beyond your job, I want to know. Immediately."

The attractive woman felt herself begin to blush. Brian had always been incredibly intuitive. "Why would it go..."

"Because I've seen the way the two of you looked at one another. Twice now."

Her blush deepened. "My private life..."

"Don't go there!" It was the only time she'd ever heard him raise his voice, even fractionally as it was. "Katie, as far as a relationship with a patient is concerned, you and I both know it's off limits. Especially this one, and particularly as he has a rather public and popular girlfriend!"

"Brian..." she weakly began. 

"Katie, I'm not suggesting anything. I have no idea whether this instant attraction that's so obvious might lead to anything. And I have no wish to know. But you need to understand one thing. This firm comes first above anything else. I won't have our reputation damaged."

The dark haired psychiatrist stared at her boss, fully understanding what he was saying. She knew how highly he thought of her, but was also aware that he job was on the line—any partner's job was on the line—if they damaged the reputation of the business. She was also aware that if he had any idea of the nature of Alistair's problems, he'd withdraw her from his case in an instant.




Politics Ch. 04



Still, the unspoken threat left her cold. It was so unfair. "Of course I understand that, Brian," she calmly answered, gracefully climbing from the couch and heading for the office door. She stopped for a moment, unable to stop herself. "But please remember, Brian, you put me in this position. You're the one who's made me vulnerable. I didn't ask for this."

She pulled the door closed behind her before he could respond.

***

Rebecca screamed at him. Leave me alone, you bastard!!! 

But it was a silent scream. Shock and disgust overwhelmed her. Shock at the way the Dutchman was blatantly taking advantage of her, and disgust with herself that she was allowing him to.

Under normal circumstances, she would never succumb to this sort of blackmail. But... but... the aerobics studio was her dream, and this was probably her only opportunity of achieving it. Don't blow it!

That wasn't the only factor right now. Somehow, the knowledge that she was being coerced was a turn on, too. Being taken against her will had been a fantasy for some time. Plus, he'd found her weakness. 

Her breasts!

His hands were cupping them, feeling their shape, caressing with just the right degree of pressure to increase her arousal. He took each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling just the way she liked. Pleasure flooded from her tits to her sex, tiny electrical currents of unadulterated gratification.

"Guus! No! You have to stop," she groaned as she slipped her hands over his. Her rapid, shallow breathing made the words sound like a moan. 

She knew she couldn't trust this man. The bastard was supposed to hold her boyfriend in high regard, yet his desire for her overruled any such consideration. What sort of man was he? 

"Stop, Guus," she whimpered again, but they both knew she was losing the battle. Her hands piggybacked on his. Other than her words, she made no attempt to stop him. Instead, she arched her back and pushed her full swells into his hands. His thumbs flicked her aching nipples. 

Rebecca's fingers tightened on his. But rather than wrench them away, she dug them into her engorged flesh, the surge of warmth centring directly between her thighs growing further. She told herself that if this was necessary to achieve her dream, then she should go with it. But she was also only too well aware that her weakness for breast play was starting to overwhelm her.

Her legs edged apart as her wetness grew. Her hands left his and slid under her short dress. She was desperate to find relief. Behind her, his hardness pushed into the back of her head. He was as aroused as she. 

Her rapid breathing gave the game away. She knew that. So did the way she thrust her breasts forward. His hands were kneading them now, digging into them, rotating them, and mashing them. Her arousal was burning through her and the bastard could smell it. 

He timed his rough kneading of her breasts in line with her throaty growls.

The topless beauty couldn't help herself. Her legs widened. The balls of her feet dug into the floor. Her fingers slithered onto and then underneath her thong. An unstoppable fire coursed through her body. This was wrong, this was lewd, and this was unforgivable. She didn't care.

With a throaty growl, she attacked her swollen clit. 

Within seconds, the combination of both sets of hands had achieved their objective. Her hips jerked as she cried out. Her body bent forward as the spasms racked through her. 

Kessen continued to knead her tits. Her nipples burned into his palms. Her legs widened further as she continued to buck on her working fingers and somehow, a second explosive orgasm followed the first.

The Dutchman took advantage. He slipped around in front of her. As she recovered, he took her hand and placed it on his cloth-covered cock. Rebecca cupped him through his slacks. The warm, heavy weight of his erection felt so good in her palm. Another tremor of arousal fed itself through her. The feeling intensified when he let out a groan of pleasure. 

Despite his size and weight, she loved the way his heavy hips arched towards her in eager response. Kessen dropped his hand to grip her hair. Rebecca grunted. He pulled her face up so that he could stare into her eyes. Loving his roughness, another surge of lust washed through her.

His hand slid to his zipper, roughly tugging it down. He pulled out his hard cock. She wanted it. Wanted it in her mouth, and then wanted the bastard to fuck her. Fill her, take away the ache in her pussy. He was much bigger than she expected, and fully erect. Bigger than Thomas...

Thomas! Thomas?!? 

She panicked at thought of her boyfriend. She couldn't do this! Not even for her dream! Somehow, she pulled herself away, stumbling to her feet and dragging the dress up and over her exposed breasts. 

"No," she gasped, though it took a real effort to deny herself. "No, Guus," she repeated, backing away to the door. "I can't!"

***

Katie glanced around Alistair's impressive living room from her comfortable position on the sofa. It had taken her some time to find his period house, located just off Cadogan Square. The inside was every bit as impressive as the exterior. Everything from the antique furniture, the art collection adorning the walls, the well-stocked bookshelves and the impressive Victorian marble fireplace spoke of money. 

Money and taste.

"You seem impressed," the politician observed. He was much more relaxed than on his visit to her office, sprawling back in one of the mahogany armchairs, one arm hooked over the back. His enthusiastic and warm smile told her he was pleased she was there. He was happy to see her again.

"You've had a busy day," she told him, ignoring his subliminal request for a compliment on the decor. "I watched some of the debate..."

"And?"

"You were very good," she told him. "But then, you knew that already."

His confident laugh reinforced just how comfortable he was feeling. It made her feel comfortable, too. If she forgot the reason she was here for a moment, she could imagine being there as his lover, enjoying some easy conversation before a bout of lovemaking. The thought sent a shiver through her. 

"Yes, it went well," he modestly told her. "But I cut the visit short because I wanted to get back here to see you."

"For our second session," she confirmed.

"Yes," he slowly answered, drawing out the word. "But mainly to see you."

Katie's glance covered his body. With his hands holding the front of the chair arms, legs splayed wide, that's how he'd be sitting if she were on her knees between his legs. Fuck! Where did that thought come from? 

"Are you flirting with me, Alistair," she asked, her tone suggesting that the idea was appealing enough.

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting upright as if he'd just been caught out. At that moment, his expression made him appear like a bashful schoolboy. "I don't know. I was just being truthful."

"Well, I'm pleased to see you, too, Alistair," she found herself saying, the banality of her words occurring to her. They were mature people, not love struck teenagers. Why did she feel so nervous?

"Good," he softly responded, the unspoken words between them much more telling than their actual conversation. They both wanted to get closer to the other, but for different reasons knew they shouldn't. "And... I wanted to thank you for yesterday, Katie. It was a real relief talking to you. Somehow helped me get things in perspective. It's made a big difference."

"Well, I'm happy about that," she told him, his words reminding her of the reason for her visit. "This session should give us a real feel for whether I can actually help."

Brinkley-Jones nodded. "You can, I'm sure..."

Her gaze covered his face, attempting to read his mind. Was he flirting again, or was he serious? Let's find out. "Alistair, the slow progress yesterday was understandable, but I need you to be completely open with me. If not, let's call it a day now. We can't make progress otherwise."

He grimaced. "I understand. But this still feels strange, Katie. Maybe you could ask me some specific questions to start with? Help me open the door?"

The dark haired woman nodded thoughtfully. There was one question that had been lingering on her mind. And not just from a professional perspective. "Your girlfriend," she asked. "Tell me about her."

"Tell you what?"

What she's like in bed? How often you fuck? Which positions do the two of you prefer? Does she give good head? FUCK! She had to get rid of those thoughts! 

She settled for something less provocative. Something to get him talking. "How long have you been together?"

"A year or so," he responded, his thoughts flowing over the happenings of those twelve months with the speed of a fighter jet. His eyes caught Katie's intense gaze. "She's the sexiest, most beautiful woman I've ever met," he continued. "At least, until I walked into your office..."

Katie felt her throat grow instantly dry. "You're flirting again," she scolded, leaning forward to take a drink from the glass of iced water beside her. She crossed her legs, as if that would disguise the growing moistness between her pale thighs.

Alistair pulled a face. "Possibly. But you said to be open. And truthful."

"So marriage is in the cards?" she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the tide of arousal surging through her body. A straight bat was the best way of dealing with the situation. She was his psychiatrist, for God's sake. 

But why ask that particular question?

He laughed, a loud, wistful laugh. "No, marriage is not in the cards," he firmly said, leaning forward in his chair. "Erika is... is great fun, but she's not in love with me. She's in love with what I am, not who I am."

"And you?" Katie asked, wanting to complete the circle. She could feel her heart rate increase with each answer. "Are you in love with her?" 

This time his laugh was full of cynicism. "Hell, no, Katie. Erika's taken me to a new world. It's an exciting world, especially for someone with my upbringing. I have to confess I've been a willing traveller. But it's not a place for the Conservative Party leader. Or the next Prime Minister."

"So..." she thoughtfully continued, "it's your position that make you want to relinquish the 'world'? Or a belief that it's not for you?"

The previously confident man exhaled a long sigh. His shoulders slumped. His eyes traced the pattern in the carpet. It was a good minute before he raised them to meet her gaze again. "I don't know."

Katie smiled at her confused patient. A smile that was meant to be comforting, tell him she was on his side. They were making good progress, and it was important to keep pressing. "Yesterday, you described yourself as a sex addict..."

"That's how I feel," he answered, slumping back in his chair. He sounded deflated. 

"With your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Lot's of people have fantastic sex with their partners," she told him, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Unfortunately, it had been some time since she fitted into that category.

"Oh, I see," he said as realisation dawned. "Not just with my girlfriend."

"I see," Katie breathed softly. "So, Erika doesn't know of the other women, and you're worried—"

His shrill laugh stopped her in her tracks. "You know, Katie, up to this point I thought you were ahead of the game. But you've taken a wrong turn. I do nothing without my girlfriend knowing. She sets up the sex. Threesomes. We fuck women. Together."

The words made Katie's blood run cold. But they excited her, too. More than she thought possible.

"That's the problem, you see?" he went on before she could respond, his voice rising. "Erika introduced me to the pleasures of the flesh. She's brought out sexual desires I didn't know I had. She's turned my life upside down. And if the media catches on, I'm finished."

Her breath caught in her throat. There it was again. The million-dollar question! "So... it's not that you want to give it up. It's that you're worried about the consequences if the media find out?"

"This is where we were some time ago," he answered, crossing one leg over the other and throwing his hands behind his head. "I've told you, Katie. I don't know."

The beautiful woman shook her head. "I think you do."

***

"We've got to think this through," Thomas told Sally, sipping from one of the glasses of wine she'd poured in the bar of their Malmaison Belfast hotel.

"Good?" she asked, knowing that he rarely consumed alcohol. But the allegation that they'd just been hit with seemed to call for something more than a soft drink. "It's my favourite."

He licked his lips. "Not bad. What is it again?"

"Cloudy Bay. Maybe not one for the connoisseurs but it suits my palate perfectly. Maybe a couple of glasses will help?"

Thomas nodded. He certainly needed something to clear his mind, stop the muddled thoughts that ran around the inside of his head and collided with one another.

"Mind you," she said with a laugh, dropping her hand from his arm to his thigh. "If it doesn't, I can think of much better ways."

He almost choked on the drink, spitting some onto the round glass table in front of them. "Does Jeremy know you're such a tease," he asked with a grin.

"Oh, Jeremy knows what I'm like," she responded. "It's what makes the world go round. Besides, don't pretend you haven't."

"Haven't?"

"Haven't imagined us fucking," she calmly told him, her fingers running up his thigh and settling dangerously close to the cock that was now making its presence felt.

"Sally!"

"All men do it," she said with that child like laugh of hers. Only it didn't quite sound so child like anymore. "Think of sex every six seconds or so. That's what they say, isn't it?"

"Sally..."

"Oh, come on, confess." She moved closer, pushing her perky left breast into his arm. "Tell me, what position have you imagined us in?"

"Sally!" he said, raising his voice as he picked up her hand from his thigh and placed it in her lap. "Sounds to me like you're the one who's had too much to drink."

"Maybe," she murmured. "That Chianti was superb, I have to admit. But don't change the subject. You're my hero after all. You never know, you might get lucky! Am I on top? Or do you prefer doggie?"

"Geez, Sally..."

"I know," she smiled, her eyes twinkling at his discomfort. "You want my ass!"

"It's not your ass I'm worried about," he said, waving a hand to call the waitress over and this time ordering an orange juice. "It's Alistair's."

The diminutive redhead settled back in her seat, accepting that playtime was over, for the moment at least. "Okay, okay, but I think we should tell Erika."

Thomas shook his head. It wasn't that he wanted to hold anything back, more that instinct and experience suggested he seek more facts before he disclosed the problem to either Alistair or his girlfriend. 

"Why?" Sally asked. 

"Because if it's true, and they hold out on us, I want to be ahead of the game. If it's nonsense, why worry them immediately."

He paused while the waitress brought their drinks.

"I can see your eyes on her ass," Sally whispered as the young Irish server returned to her station. "You must be hot for it."

Thomas pulled a face and shook his head. His look told her he wasn't playing that game anymore, although he had been looking. "Listen, Sally, I want to think it through first. How about this? I'll have another conversation with Murphy, try and glean more detail. You check out whether Alistair was in Belfast eight months ago. When we have that information, we'll talk it through and decide on the next steps. Okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said thoughtfully, refilling her glass from the green bottle. "There'll be no chance to do that tonight, though, will there? God knows how long these two functions will last."

"Another late night," Thomas agreed, sighing softly. He'd somehow have to find time to call Becky, too. He should have done that immediately after they'd left the hall. If everything had gone as expected, his girlfriend would have secured the financial backing to make her dream a reality.

"You think it might be true?" Sally asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He shrugged his shoulders. "From what you've told me about their lifestyle, there's every chance it could be true, don't you think? If we don't sort this, we're fucked. The campaign is fucked. Alistair is fucked. But I don't want to just ask them. I want to know as much as I can before I do that. Form my own opinions. Then we'll hear what they have to say."

"Isn't that kind of disloyal?"

"No, Sally," he sighed, swallowing his juice. "It means I'm doing my job to the best of my ability. But it also means I'm not going to be jerked around. We need the truth. You with me on this or not?"

"Of course," she said, giving him a why-would-you-doubt-me look.

"Good! Look, we have a mid morning flight back tomorrow. Let's both make sure we do our work before then!"

Sally pulled a face. "With everything we have on tonight? You don't ask much!"

Thomas glanced at her alarmed face. "I know, I know. But it's essential we have as much as we can before we speak to Erika and Alistair. This is fucking serious, Sally. The timescale's are out of our control."

"I understand," she answered, nudging closer to him again. "But just tell me one thing."

"Anything," he said, reaching for his wallet. They were running out of time before the first of their two press functions.

She batted her eyelashes. "It is doggie style you want to fuck me, isn't it?"

***

"Aren't we splitting hairs?" Alistair asked his beautiful psychiatrist. "Whatever the reason, the point is that I need to do something about this before its too late."

Katie shook her head. "No, we're not splitting hairs. If it's the lifestyle per se you were rebelling against, then it would be simpler for you to give up the obsession. Being addicted to it makes it a different ballgame."

The troubled politician stared at her, a haunted look in his eyes. He knew it and she knew it. They'd reached the crossroads.

Katie was only too well aware she'd be unable to help much further. At the fringes, perhaps, but that was all. Maybe if she was a sex therapist? But this was outside of her normal remit.

"Look, Alistair," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I deal with people who suffer from genuine psychiatric illnesses. Things like depression, schizophrenia. Clearly, you don't fit into those categories. I don't have the expertise in this area..."

"I need you, Katie," he answered, cutting off her argument. "In fact, right now, I'd say you were the only chance I have of getting out of this mess. Please help me."

She looked at him and saw the agony on his face. The little child inside the man shone through like a beacon on a dark night. It melted her heart. But who was she to try and offer a solution? When the slut inside her drove her to find strangers and suck their cocks. She had an addiction, too. If she couldn't cure herself, how could she help him?

"What is it about the sex that you enjoy so much," she fond herself asking. It wasn't a professional question, it was curiosity.

He was good looking, charming, humorous, wicked and very bright. It was a heady cocktail of all the characteristics she found so attractive. There was no doubt that the instant chemistry they'd experienced had grown further the longer they spent in one another's company.

Katie realised what was happening and was helpless to do anything about it. She watched the way he looked at her and it excited her further. With every flicker of his eyes across her full breasts, her nipples rose and her body grew hotter. She tried to resist the implications of his gaze, and the undoubted thoughts that accompanied them.




Politics Ch. 05



Chapter 5: Rebecca submits

"God, you look rough," Sally murmured. "Want me to hold the taxi when it arrives? Won't take you long to freshen up..." 

"Didn't get much sleep," Thomas grumpily offered by way of explanation. What else could he say? Erika fucked me all night? That woman was insatiable. 

It must have been around five o'clock before she allowed him to return to his room. That meant an hour's nap, a quick shower, and a room service breakfast while he made the call to Jack Murphy. They had an hour and a half to reach Belfast International airport and catch their Aer Lingus flight.

"Okay," he continued, taking her arm and pulling her to the quietest part of the foyer. "I spoke to our Irish newspaper friend." 

The redhead's face became a picture of expectation. "Don't make me wait," she told him, dropping her hands to her hips. "And?"

Thomas felt a twitch in his groin. After her teasing come-on in the bar last night, he was seeing Sally in a different light. And she looked so sexy in that pose. The spaghetti straps of the tight, cream camisole top didn't cover the flowery bra straps and he could see the swell of her small, perky breasts when she leaned forward like that.

"Hey," she said, tugging his arm. "I'm up here! You feeling frisky this morning?"

"Frisky?"

"You're staring at my tits."

"No, I'm not," he growled. How the hell could he be feeling frisky after last night? "I... I just like that top."

"You just like my top?" she said, throwing her head back. For a second, he didn't know what to say, but Sally's burst of laughter saved him. 

He gave a bashful smile.

"Sorry," he apologised, trying to think of anything other than sex. Tell her about his conversation with Murphy! "It's difficult to form an opinion, Sally. He's adamant his story is rock solid, but can't offer any facts to back it up."

"Or won't," the redhead pointed out, playfully ruffling her short hair. 

"Or won't," he agreed, with a curt nod. Was she playing up to him now? "But I threw a few questions at him and there wasn't much depth in his answers. Either he's very clever, or the stuff he has in tenuous at best."

"He didn't seem very clever," Sally grinned.

Thomas laughed for the first time that morning. "Never judge a book by its cover, but in this case I think you might well be right. How did you do?"

"Drew a blank," the redhead replied, raising her eyebrows in that familiar way of hers. "As far as I can work out from everything I've been able to check, Alistair was everywhere but Ireland around that period. There was a European tour, a conference in Dubai, and he was part of a delegation to the States."

Thomas pursed his lips as he nodded thoughtfully. "Doesn't mean he didn't visit personally..."

"No, but from what I can tell, he didn't have much free time. Apart from the visits I've mentioned, he was heavily involved in preparations for the Party Conference. A visit to Ireland just doesn't seem to fit."

"Why am I getting the feeling that this is a set up? Okay," he said, glancing across to the lifts at the far side of the foyer. "Erika's heading over here now. Anything else?"

Sally followed his gaze across to the sexy Scandinavian. "Not a thing," she told him. "What now?"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "We've done our homework. We brief Erika first, then agree how we break it to Alistair."

"You tell her," Sally grinned, as the blonde walked towards them.

"Morning," the Scandinavian woman greeted them, her voice bouncing with energy. "Sorry, I'm late—phone call. God, Thomas, you look rough..."

"I've already told him," Sally laughed, turning to greet the blonde.

Erika smiled. "What have you been up to?"

He shot her a look that would have laid her low had it been a punch. Guilt was riddled through his body. He wasn't interested in mind games.

"Never mind," she said, dismissing the subject with an imperial wave of her arm. "I overheard Sally. What do you want to tell me?"

"Taxi," the redhead interrupted, acknowledging the wave from reception. "Maybe we should wait 'til we get to the airport?"

"Tell them we'll be there in a sec, would you, Sally?" Thomas asked, waiting until the diminutive woman headed for the reception desk. "Erika," he rasped, his eyes blazing with concern. "About last night..."

"Last night? Last night you did very well, tiger. But don't let it pray on your mind. It's our secret. Okay?"

He stared at her, trying to read her Swedish mind. Was that it? A one night fuck, with no repercussions? Was she really that cold? It suited him down to the ground to forget all about it. But could he trust her?

"Listen, Thomas," she said patiently, as if reading his mind. "It was sex, just sex. Nothing more, nothing less! I needed it and so did you, from your wholehearted performance."

He gritted his teeth at the patronising comment. "Erika..."

The hint of menace in her intense blue eyes stopped him. "The way I see it, is that if Alistair knew we'd fucked, your relationship with him would be at an end. And if Becky ever found out, I'd imagine you and she would be finished, too. So I promise you I'll say nothing, and suggest you do the same. Okay?"

Thomas could feel his fingernails cut into his palms as he clenched his fists. Somehow he'd expected more, though he had no idea what. Despite her arrogant dismissal, she was offering him a way out. Better to forget it, though that would be quite a feat. Particularly as every bone in his body felt the guilt.

"Good," she decisively said, taking his answer as read. Remorse was for the weak. "As for you and Sally wanting to talk to me, let's wait until we get to the airport, shall we?"

***

Rebecca hadn't expected Erika to call her so early that morning. Nor had she anticipated that her meeting with Guus Kessen would take place so quickly. It seemed the millionaire was flying to his villa in Monte Carlo this afternoon and this would be his only opportunity to see her for a few days. 

It's up to you, Erika had told her during their early morning telephone conversation. Your final chance! I've done all I can. Don't go if you're not committed to doing what's necessary.

Do what's necessary!! The words had floated around her mind since Erika had ended the call in her rush to catch her airport taxi. But then those words had been with her since their conversation last night. She had an hour to get ready and reach his Mayfair offices. Her heart was racing. And not only because of the near realisation of her dream... 

She was going to be unfaithful to her boyfriend in a way. Okay, she wasn't going to give herself to the Dutchman. She wouldn't allow him to fuck her. But she was going to suck his cock. For money! Like a high-class whore!! The thought already had her wet with anticipation. Now that her mind had come to terms with what was necessary to secure the finance, she realised she actually wanted this!

Deus! She actually wanted to take the millionaire's cock in her mouth! 

Yesterday had whetted her sexual appetite. So had her conversations with Erika. When she'd masturbated last night, she'd even fantasised about the blonde's kiss! She'd also recollected the feel of Kessen's hands on her tits. And recalled the sight of him exposing his thick manhood.

Only in last night's masturbatory fantasies, she had it in her mouth. Just like she would later this morning.

And being coerced into the act assuaged any guilt. After all, she wasn't being unfaithful. She could rationalise that she had no choice. 

Erika had said that she should try again and persuade Kessen of the business sense in her proposition. She knew it was too late for that. She was heading for his office with one thought in mind. Thoughts of her illicit liaisons with married men in Brazil had returned. A fire inside her had been lit.

She actually wanted to be used.

***

The seats at the far side of the Executive lounge afforded a little privacy. Enough for Thomas to raise the subject. "Sally and I were approached by an Irish reporter yesterday. Confidentially."

"Jack Murphy," Sally added. "Belfast Telegraph."

"Yesterday?" Erika instantly responded. "You didn't mention this last night?"

Sally shot Thomas a look. It was late when they'd returned to their rooms last night and she'd invited him in for a drink. But they were so bushed after their long day, and he'd been anxious to call Becky. 

So... he'd spent the night with Erika instead! No wonder he was looking so tired.

Why the hell hadn't Erika involved her? She had before. But only when it suited the blonde, it seemed. Damn, if it wasn't for the thrill that a threesome gave her, she'd turn the Swedish woman down the next time she asked.

Who was she kidding? 

Her husband had occasionally mentioned a threesome, but that wouldn't quite be right. Besides, Jeremy just wanted to fuck another woman while she watched. With Erika, she was able to take part, lose herself. And losing herself with Thomas and the blonde would have been quite an experience. 

Still, he wasn't quite the innocent that she thought he was. All that crap about being faithful! Well, he couldn't claim that one with her anymore. One thing was quite clear in her mind now. She'd fuck her fair-haired companion sooner or later. It was just a question of getting the situation and the timing right.

"He told us he had a story on Alistair," Thomas mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady. He knew that a blush was already spreading itself across his face under Sally's perceptive gaze. Fuck! The last thing he wanted or needed was for the redhead to have any suspicions.

"Story? What sort of story?" Erika snapped.

"Does the name Mary O'Leary mean anything to you?" he asked, forgetting Sally and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the sexy blonde. He needed to see if there'd be any hint of recognition. There wasn't.

"No. Should it?"

"Mary O'Leary is a young woman from Derry," he explained, feeling better that Erika seemed blissfully unaware of the name. That almost certainly meant the story was fabricated. "Jack Murphy's allegation is that she met Alistair over here, around eight months ago."

"He meets a lot of people," Erika responded with a frown. "Was he over here then? I can't recall us visiting Northern Ireland during the last year."

"I can't find any trace of him being in the country," Sally blurted, immediately backing off when Thomas's eyes widened at her. "Not that I've been able to carry out any sort of check," she mumbled, quickly catching on. They didn't want Erika thinking they'd gone behind her back. 

"You used the word allegation," Erika slowly said, her eyes flicking between them as she began to realise the implications. "What does that mean?"

"It's not good news, Erika," Sally nervously blurted. 

"She gives birth next month," Thomas added, coming straight to the point. "The suggestion is that Alistair is the father."

The instant silence hung over them, like a sudden fog engulfing the skyline.

"This is bullshit," Erika eventually rasped, her sexy Scandinavian lilt rising. "Absolute bullshit. How dare they suggest that?"

"Careful," Thomas interrupted, a roll of his eyes indicating they were attracting attention from passengers not too far away. He diplomatically lowered his voice, though it was the blonde who was in danger of being overheard. "First things first, Erika. We have to make Alistair aware, and get his reaction."

"Reaction?" the Scandinavian woman shot back, her intense blue eyes flicking from one to the other as her mind ran through the implications. 

"We have to make sure he hasn't come across this woman..." he paused, the smirk in Sally's eyes warning him of the inadvertent play on words. "Whether he's met her before," he corrected, making a point of not looking at either woman. 

"Of course he hasn't met her."

Thomas hesitated. "We're all pretty sure he hasn't," he slowly confirmed. "Which means we need to agree on our next steps."

"Next steps?" Erika snapped, glancing around her as she realised she'd raised her voice again. She lowered her tone instantly. "Why don't we simply ignore the meaningless trash?"

Thomas paused. As intelligent as she was, Erika wasn't thinking clearly. "As meaningless as it may be, we know the press. They'll hound us on this one and make a much bigger story if we don't give them something. We want them writing about Alistair's performance in the debate, not this crap."

"You're right," Erika slowly responded, thinking things through. "Absolutely! Doing nothing isn't an option. Okay, this is why we hired you, Thomas, what we pay you for. To deal with this horseshit! Your suggestion is?"

Having it instantly thrown on his shoulders was unexpected, but she was right. It was his responsibility. His and Sally's. Instinct told him the next steps. 

"We discuss with Alistair and make sure he doesn't know this woman," he firmly responded, adding, "It makes sense, Erika," when the blonde's eyes flared at him. "Just to tick that box."

When the Swede nodded, he continued. 

"Then I'll speak to Murphy again and refute the whole story. Maybe even throw in the suggestion of us suing, though I don't want to be too heavy handed at this stage."

"Be as heavy handed as you want," Erika snapped, tapping her fingers on the side of her chair in irritation.

"Yes, I feel that way too," Thomas responded, leaning forward in his seat to emphasise the point. "But we need to understand what makes them tick first, which buttons to press. If I can find out more specific timescales from them, we can do our own research as to where Alistair was at that time."

"You want to check up on him?"

"No, Erika, certainly not," he told her, glancing at Sally and then back at the blonde. "But think about it! We need to be in a position so that when they raise stuff, we have the facts and can counter everything they throw at us."

The Swede's eyes blazed. She remembered only too well the made-up stories when she separated from Dennis. The media hadn't treated her kindly at first. "It's one thing I quickly discovered about English newspapers. If they don't have facts, they'll manufacture lies. The bloody tabloids are scum."

"I understand how you feel," Thomas acknowledged. "But if we've done our research, we'll have all the facts and can combat anything they say. Then we'll be in a position of strength."

The blonde woman slowly nodded, letting a long sigh escape her lips as she fought back the recollection of the unfair coverage of her separation and divorce. Everything Thomas said made sense.

"So, we meet Alistair as soon as we can when we get back?" Sally asked.

"Yes," Thomas confidently replied. "You ring ahead and arrange that, Sally. And whatever you need to do to start that research, make it happen. We need chapter and verse on Alistair's movements around the time they're suggesting. Okay?"

"Okay?" the diminutive redhead asked, glancing at Erika for approval.

The blonde stared thoughtfully ahead, her mind trawling through the women she and Alistair had been with. Of all the beauties they'd fucked together, it had to be an unknown that was trying to make trouble. 

Jane Atkinson, she could understand. She never did trust that gobby socialite, though she'd threatened her with what could happen when the dyed blonde had got too big for her boots and hinted at a conversation with the press. Now that she'd married a footballer, that particular threat had gone away. 

Then there was Françoise, the free spirited French girl. She'd approached Erika some time ago, trying to strike a deal to keep quiet. It had been enough for the blonde to explain she had a video of the B-class actress taking cocaine, and that it would find its way to the police should she open her mouth.

But Mary O'Leary? Who the hell was Mary-fucking-O'Leary?

Her eyes darted back to the couple beside her. Both were closely watching her as she contemplated her options. If Sally researched Alistair's movements, there was an outside chance she might stumble on one of their conquests. 

While that might not be too much of a problem, considering the redhead's involvement from time to time, she didn't believe in leaving things to chance. 

"Go ahead with the research," she finally confirmed. "But I personally want a telephone update at the end of each day. And the three of us will meet first thing every morning to discuss findings. Every morning!"

"Okay," they said in unison.

Erika nodded in silent satisfaction. Had either given even the sliver of a hint of dissent, she'd have come down on them like a ton of bricks. Problem number one may have been Mary O'Leary. But number two was all the other Mary-fucking-O'Leary's who might crawl out of the woodwork if this came out. 

"And should either of you find anything unusual—anything at all—I want to know instantly," she went on, reinforcing who was in control. "No one takes unilateral action. Nothing is done, or confided in anyone else, unless I agree to it. We're a team, the three of us. But I'm in charge. I have to keep the pressure away from Alistair with everything else that's going on. Understand?"

***

"Well, well," Guus Kessen said, making no move to move from his chair as his secretary brought Rebecca into his office. It was quite a contrasting approach, deliberately so, to his reaction to her arrival yesterday.

Show her who was in control.

"Guus," she nervously said once the grey haired secretary had closed the door behind her. She took a couple of steps forward and then stopped, nervously waiting for the overweight man to offer her a seat. 

He didn't.

"We have some unfinished business," he murmured, his clipped Dutch accent more pronounced than usual. "Erika pleaded for me to see you again. Interesting, that. Want to know what I said?"

Rebecca nodded nervously. She'd planned out her speech on the way there, rehearsed it several times. Yet he'd instantly taken the initiative. What could she do other than allow him to continue?

"I told her I wouldn't," he went on, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out. "You see, Rebecca, I've never given a second chance to anyone."

The raven-haired beauty felt her breath catch in her throat. She was on the back foot and they both knew it. Deus! She'd soon be begging him to let her suck his cock.

"But..." he continued, crossing one extended foot over the other, "Erika has exceptional persuasive powers. And you, Rebecca, are an exceptional woman. Otherwise I wouldn't have even listened to Erika's entreaties."

Rebecca nodded, unsure what to say, or whether to speak at all. "Thank you," she eventually committed, wondering what else was coming.

"Very polite," Kessen smiled, slowly pouring himself a glass of water and raising it to his fat lips. Make her wait. Keep her standing there. "Would you like to know what else I thought?"

No, she thought. No, I wouldn't. But she had to. Or lose her dream forever. "Yes, Guus," she hesitantly said, trying but failing to force a smile.

"Yes, please, Guus," the Dutchman said. She was his now! There was no doubt about that. Docile and obedient. But let's see if he could provoke that Brazilian temper. She'd make an even better fuck if she were angry with him.

"Yes... please... Guus," she spat out, deliberately slowly, feeling her temperature rise as she spoke. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't allow any man to treat her like this. But these weren't normal circumstances.

"Good," he arrogantly smiled, his lustful gaze running across her body.

Rebecca shivered. She felt herself blush. Being controlled like this was a new experience. Part of her hated it. Another part found it arousing. She'd deliberately dressed less provocatively, yet even through her bra she knew her nipples were pushing against her crisp white blouse. The colour superbly highlighted her dark, South American skin.




Politics Ch. 05



"I wondered about your proposition," he smugly told her. "I mean, to be an aerobics instructor, you need to be fit. Have an athletic body. To make a real success, I imagine you need a superb body." He waved a hand at the file on his desk. "That's the one thing your business plan doesn't demonstrate. And you'll appreciate, I'm sure, that if I'm going to invest such a substantial sum, I need to see that for myself, Rebecca."

So there it was. Openly. She understood what the overweight bastard wanted. Her large, brown eyes flashed at him. She'd come prepared to give head to the Dutchman, to be humiliated by him. Yet... somehow... the thought increased her arousal. Why not make the bastard's mouth drool?

Keeping her deep brown eyes firmly fixed on the smug millionaire, she pulled off her brown leather jacket and dropped it by her feet. One by one, she slowly released each large white button on the front of her blouse. 

Only the increasing sound of his heavy panting broke the silence.

Her movements were slow and deliberate, extracting maximum effect. The way his pinprick eyes narrowed, a bead of sweat formed on his forehead, his tongue flicked out, encouraged her further—aroused her further.

Completely unbuttoned, she slowly pulled the white garment from her black skirt and allowed it to float down to the floor to join her jacket. The right strap of her sheer cream bra demurely fell from her shoulder. She left it there, shifting from hip to hip, thrusting her perfect tits in Guus's direction. 

Her hands went to the side button on her skirt, flicking it open and dragging down the zip. It fell to her feet and she stepped out of it, hands on hips. 

She stood proudly on one leg, and then the other, the glint of her dangling belly piercing shooting across the room. The way his lustful gaze fell to her upthrusting cleavage, provocatively spilling over the top of the white bra, was gratifying. So was the fact his eyes couldn't seem to choose between her tits and the delicious skimpiness of her matching thong. The lacy cream material scooped so low it was quite clear she was cleanly shaven.

That's right, stare at the goods, you bastard, her defiant gaze told him. Have you ever seen anything as sexy?

The Dutchman nodded, as if hearing the unspoken question. His tongue flicked across his thick lips again. His grey eyes devoured the deliciously dark skinned body. "Perfect," he grunted, taking another sip of water from his glass. His hands were shaking "Even better than I'd expected," he added as he leant forward and carefully placed his drink back on his desk. 

The Brazilian beauty threw her head back, allowing her dark, wavy hair to bounce on her naked shoulders. Despite the ludicrous situation, her nervousness had disappeared. How many times had she seduced a married man back in Brazil? Was this really that different? 

Her whole body tingled in anticipation.

"You'll be pleased to know I'm willing to invest," he gasped, his Dutch accent little more than a croak as his eyes feasted on her body. Reaching down to the right hand drawer, he pulled out a thick, buff coloured envelope and casually tossed it onto the top of his desk. "Thirty thousand pounds," he simply said.

The Brazilian woman's eyes shifted to the envelope and then back to the Dutchman. He'd already brought his hands to his trousers and was slowly unbuckling the belt. Only the clink of its clasp interfered with the sound of their breathing. The Dutchman drew the zipper of his expensive pants down and pulled out his cock, semi-erect and already impressive.

"Well, my little lekker stuk?" he throatily asked.

***

"You've got to be joking," Alistair Brinkley-Jones repeated for the third time as he paced up and down the long, narrow conference room floor. Erika had sunk onto her favourite position overseeing the outside floor, while Thomas and Sally stood together in the far corner of the room. 

It had taken a few minutes for Thomas to explain the problem and answer the politician's questions. Alistair's eyes continually flicked to meet Erika's throughout. It seemed they were both thinking the same thing.

"Thomas, they're going to kill me with this pack of lies," he repeated, rubbing his hands together as he paced. "How are we going to stop it?"

That was a hell of a question, the Campaign Manager thought, wishing he had the answer. Alistair was looking at him was as if he'd just dished out the next task, just like asking him to fix up a radio or television interview.

"Sally's already started her research," he told the pacing man. "We'll have that fully completed tonight..."

"Fucking tonight?" Alistair interrupted. "Why so long?"

"Because we need a day by day assessment of your whereabouts over a two month period," Thomas replied, the voice of reason in a fraught situation. His boss's reaction had been out of character. If the story was fabricated, why was he responding in such a panicky way? 

Brinkley-Jones sent another stare in his direction.

Thomas responded with more clarity. "I've spoken again to Jack Murphy. He won't give us a specific date. So we cover a wider period, make sure we've got every angle covered. Erika wants to run through it once it's compiled, and make sure it matches her diaries. That way we're watertight."

"Okay," the irritated man conceded, sending another glance in Erika's direction. He picked up a doughnut from the table and devoured it as if it might be his last supper. "That fucking debate went so well," he rasped. "A brainwave of yours, by the way. You were right and I was wrong. But we need to get this albatross from around our necks so we can start to capitalise on it, okay?"

"I'm trying," Thomas told him, leaning against the wall as he spoke. "One other thing occurs to me."

"Which is..."

"Murphy has given us a deadline of first thing tomorrow to respond. Otherwise he's printing, or so he says."

Erika cut in. "Can we buy more time?" 

"No point," Thomas firmly replied. "We'll have our research completed by then, so we'll have our defence. I suggest we tell him that we'll sue if he prints. Try and kill it there and then."

"Do you think that'll work?"

"Could do," Thomas told him. "But if I get a feel that he's going ahead, my recommendation is that Sally and I contact the media we trust. We meet the story head on by us breaking it to the key players, not allowing the Belfast Telegraph to do that. Steal their thunder. Reduce the impact."

Alistair and Erika exchanged glances. "Are you mad?"

"Just think," he enthused, pushing himself away from the wall and sitting on the table. "If it's going to be in the media, we need to control the story, not anyone else. Neither of you should be involved... leave it to Sally and me. We take the initiative. We'll tell them we repudiate everything. That there's no truth in anything this woman is saying and we won't dignify the rubbish by saying anything more. We'll talk politics going forward and nothing else." 

"Think it'll work?" Alistair asked Sally, raising a dubious eyebrow.

"Not entirely," she admitted, "but it's a great idea. It'll put us on the front foot and them on the back."

"Hmmm! And what happens when it's the first question anyone asks me?"

"That'll happen anyway," Thomas told him. We want a statesmanlike approach from you. One that says that you're running an Election campaign. You expected this sort of crap to happen in America, but not here. But you're not worried about it. You're just getting on with business as usual. If the media want to talk about lies and minutia, that's out of your control, though you have to say you're disappointed. You have a serious campaign to get on with. That's what we're all trying to do."

The politician swept a hand through his long black hair. "Take the moral high ground."

"Exactly!"

Alistair glanced at Erika again. She nodded. For the first time in a while, it seemed the two of them were agreeing on something.

"Okay," the Conservative Party leader agreed. "So, what's next?"

"As far as this is concerned, let's get our facts together and we'll brief the two of you tonight," Thomas decisively said, nodding across at Sally. "In the meantime, I have a number of group press discussions lined up for you today, Alistair, as well as a couple of television stations."

"I thought you said..." Erika began, shifting in her chair.

Thomas anticipated the question. "Nothing to do with Mary O'Leary, except it makes this more urgent. We must capitalise on yesterday's performance. You were terrific, Alistair, and we need to get maximum value while I can. Today's polls have already moved in our favour based on the debate. Let's capitalise on that. We need to get this snowball rolling..."

"Okay," the politician smiled. This kid was good. "Shouldn't Sally be doing this? She is my PR Manager after all."

"I'll chip in where I can," the redhead interrupted. "And Thomas and I have been working together on this. But I need to gather this information on your movements. I've already liaised with Erika and we've rearranged your diary to accommodate everything."

"Yes," Thomas added. "We need you from lunchtime through 'til seven."

The Conservative Leader hesitated, glancing across at Erika and then back to Thomas. "I have a couple of things to clear right now, but then I'm yours. When will you be ready to brief me?"

"Sally and I have a briefing paper already drawn up," Thomas smiled. "I'll walk you through it as soon as you're ready."

"Okay," Brinkley-Jones confirmed, standing still for the first time since entering the conference room. "But can't we finish earlier? I have a personal meeting early evening."

"Doubt it," Thomas told him with a frustrated sigh. He'd spent a lot of time and effort setting these meetings up. "We have a pretty full agenda, Alistair, and these are essential to the Election push."

The black politician nodded. "Yes... yes, I understand... I'll move things back..."

***

Rebecca realised she wanted this almost as much as the drooling millionaire did. She was in front of him in three steps, quickly dropping to her knees. Kessen set his hands on the chair either side of him, allowing her a clearer view of his thick cock as it rose like a tower from its hairy base.

With a grunt, her long fingers wrapped themselves fully around the root of Kessen's girth even as her eager mouth engulfed his hardness. 

It amazed her how earnest she was to satisfy him. This wasn't just about the money any longer. It was also a need to satisfy her inner whore, take herself back to her days in Brazil, and enjoy the illicit act. And she could do it without blame. After all, she was being coerced, right?

Her aroused senses drove her on. The twenty-two year old beauty went through her full repertoire. Her lips sucked around his bulbous crown. Her licking tongue urgently worked itself back and forth against the underside of his shaft. Her hands dragged his trousers open more widely, pulling his legs forward so that one hand could cup his balls. 

He moaned, his hands sliding down her back to unhook the catch of her bra. Without stopping her work, she raised one shoulder then the other, allowing him to drag the garment from her. When his hands slid under her, she sat up a little, allowing him to mash her tits while she sucked him.

Her moans joined his. Her nipples were erect, burning into his palms. She eagerly sucked up his precum before taking him as far as she could go. She'd never deep throated a cock so big, but she became determined to do so.

"Oh, yes," the Dutchman grunted as his Brazilian wet dream swallowed more and more of his veiny flesh with each dip of her beautiful head. His fingers found her wavy hair, gripping her tightly enough to cause pain. 

Rebecca slurped off his cock, raising her large brown eyes to stare into his. His fingers tightened in her hair, attempting to pull her head back. She resisted, just for a moment, trying to wrestle control away from him. The Dutchman was too astute to allow that. Even as he dragged her mouth back onto his cock, he raised his fat hips and grunted. "More..." 

Rebecca responded by taking his stiff member deep into her throat. Her reward was another throaty gasp from the millionaire. Her head bobbed machine like as she fucked him with her mouth, like a whore, a high-class prostitute. The wetness between her thighs increased at the thought, and with each dip of her head, every feel of his cock bottoming out.

"Oh, yes, you bitch," he encouraged. "Just like that!" He pulled her harder and harder against his now upthrusting crotch.

Rebecca moaned at his reaction, renewing her efforts. Should she swallow or pull away? Surprisingly, she realised she wanted his creamy juice. She wanted to feel it explode against the back of her throat.

She choked a little as the Dutchman pushed up, shoving himself deeper into her throat. He grunted, clenching his teeth and pulling her down until her lips touched his wiry pubic hair. Her hands went to his hips to steady herself as he prepared to fire... but then... then... he was dragging her head upwards.

"You don't think you earn your money that easily?" he panted, his face red and sweaty. "We haven't finished yet."

***

"We need to speak, don't you think?" Erika suggested as she and Alistair left the conference room. 

The politician ruefully nodded, heading for his office and holding the door open for her. He closed it firmly behind them when she was inside. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation and it was essential they weren't overheard. 

"What going on, Alistair?" she instantly asked, hands on her hips as she strode to the couch on which he'd fucked her so many times. She flopped down, crossing her hands across her firm breasts as she waited his response.

"You know as much as I do," he non-committaly said, heading for his chair. "I've never even met this fucking Mary O'Leary before. Unless one of your women had used a false name and is trying to cash in."

"One of my women?" she fumed, her intense blue eyes shooting daggers at him. She wasn't going to accept criticism from him just because he was losing his nerve. "You mean, one of the women you've enjoyed fucking?"

The look on his face confirmed her words had struck home. "Yes, Erika, I guess that's what I do mean," he agreed, softening his voice. "I know, I know—I've been an equal player in all of this."

"But not lately," she shot back, crossing her shapely legs and revealing a wonderful expanse of thigh. His eyes homed in on her flesh and then looked away again. She lost her temper. "What's wrong with you? You're growing tired of fucking me, Alistair? Of the assignations I arrange, just for you?"

Her tone stopped him in his tracks. 

"Perhaps," he weakly responded, shrugging his shoulders.

Was that it? A shrug of his shoulders? That's what their relationship was currently worth? He wasn't fooling her. Yes, his concern was genuine. He was worried of the consequences. But there was more to it than that. 

Time for another point to be made.

"Really," she snapped, rummaging in her bag. Removing the buff covered envelope, she pulled out the latest photographs that her contact, Benni, had prepared for her. The CD was safely in a locked drawer at her safe. "The way you were with Carolyn didn't look like you'd grown tired," she said, holding up one photo after another of his bedroom action and then tossing them onto the floor. "You enjoyed fucking your little schoolgirl?"

His eyes narrowed, like he'd been slapped in the face. Worse than that, his cock reacted at the recollection of his session with the not so innocent young teenager. How the hell was he going to break this addiction? Did he want to? 

Erika saw the half defeated look on his face. She wasn't going to let up, but there was more than one way to skin a cat.

"Alistair, what is it?" she asked, softening her voice. "Tell me, help me understand. Something's changed. What?" 

He nodded, resting his head in his hands for a moment. "Erika," he quietly explained, looking at her again. "Don't you see? The thing I feared more than anything is about to happen. When details of my wild lifestyle, our lifestyle, ekes out, my political career is over. I'm finished!"

She quickly stood up, standing on the scattered photographs as she crossed towards him. She perched beside him on the edge of his desk. When his eyes glanced down at the expanse of naked thigh, she took his hand and rested it on her smooth flesh. 

"Alistair," she gently said, removing any hint of irritation from her tone. Keep it soft and comforting. "Think about this. Neither of us knows this woman! She's nothing to do with what we've enjoyed in our private lives. None of that will ever come out. Didn't I promise you that?"

"But it might, Erika," he contradicted her, pulling his hand away from her thigh and jumping to his feet. He walked towards the window, yanking the blind up and peering out before allowing it to fall again. "Don't you see?" he asked, swinging back to face her. "This one might be a publicity seeker, but that's not the point, is it? What if she encourages others to speak to the papers?"

"Others?" It was the same thought that had occurred to her.

"The women who really do have something to tell," he snapped. "Carolyn. Lady Olivia. Any of them."

"They won't," she told him, her calm blue eyes looking into his and seeing a sea of trouble. "I always have something over them. You never need worry."

"But I do fucking worry," he rasped, stomping back to the desk and resting his palms on the top as he leant towards her. "Erika, I've lived on this knife-edge for too long. That's why..."

The blonde raised her eyebrows. She understood he was worried about his career. And his inheritance, too, no doubt! It was just as well she was cultivating Guus Kessen. "Go on," she quietly told him, smiling calmly in the face of his anger. "Finish what you were saying. That's why...?"

He suddenly pulled away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. He couldn't confess to meeting Katie, or the reason why he was seeing her. "Nothing," he lamely ended, pulling away and returning to the window. 

"Nothing?" Erika's voice softly murmured. "I thought that after our time together, we could at least be honest with one another, Alistair."

His alarmed face as he spun around confirmed her suspicions. "What—"

She cut him off. "I know you're seeing a shrink." Did he think he could sneak off without her making enquiries? Did he think she wouldn't question why it took two personal visits to Brian Sterling to secure a donation? She'd done her homework. She always did. She knew all about the West End practice. About the Senior Partner. And about the slut Brian Sterling had taken to the dinner.

"How did you know?" he asked, his question confirming her suspicions.

Her laugh filled the office. "Oh, Alistair! Do you think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit! But what I can't understand is why someone as intelligent as you needs to visit a psychiatrist? They're all mumbo jumbo fakes anyway."

"She's not a fake! She's..."

Bingo! She hadn't been sure about the woman, but now she was. "She?" she calmly asked, standing up and then flopping down in his chair. "So that's it! There I was, putting two and two together about your visits to Brian Sterling and it turns out you're not seeing him at all. It's that woman from the dinner."

"Look," he angrily snapped, looking anywhere other than her eyes. "Katie is helping..."

"Oh, Katie?" she smiled, though she knew only too well it was Katie Nichols. Junior Partner. Still, keep up the pretence. "That's her name? What exactly is Katie helping you with, Alistair?"




Politics Ch. 05



"For God sakes, Erika," he snapped, her coolness bringing the opposite reaction from the politician. "I need to get my head right, that's all. I need to understand whether this lifestyle is right for me. Whether it's worth what I'm risking. Can't you see? I could lose everything."

"I've given you everything," she calmly told him, not backing off for even a second. "I've helped shape you. Make you what you are."

"Have you?" he asked, prepared to tell her what he really thought. Something held him back. This wasn't the time or place. "Look, Erika. I am grateful for everything you've done for me. Personally and in my career. Please don't make this into something more than it is. I need to figure things out and I can't do that on my own. Or with you. I need some help, independent help!"

The Swedish woman smiled again. "Alistair, you love this fucking lifestyle," she told him. "You love fucking me, and you love fucking the women I bring into our relationship. We both know that, don't we?"

He dropped down onto the couch, a defeated look on his face. In some ways, it startled Erika. How could she have failed to see this coming? She'd thought it was just the pressure of the forthcoming General Election.

"Of course, I love it," he answered, calm at last. "That's the point. But it might bring me down. I could lose everything. My career. My inheritance. I need help to find my way through this, Erika. Decide what's best. That's all."

The blonde hesitated. He really was confused, and further arguments wouldn't help. It was time for a change of pace. She needed to manage this properly, give herself some thinking time. "Oh, Alistair, that's fine with me," she lied, gracefully rising from his chair and joining him on the couch.

"It is?" His puzzled eyes told her it was the last reaction he was expecting.

"Of course, honey. I only want what's best for you," she lied, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes looked so confused. "I was just hurt because you were shutting me out from this, that's all," she tenderly continued. "Look, be honest with me. You're appointment tonight is with this Katie? That's why you wanted to leave early?"

He coyly nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, honey, that's fine. Just do what you need to get your head right. I want that. Surely you know that? Listen, put all this nonsense out of your head right now. You have a busy afternoon ahead. Let Thomas brief you on the TV and press sessions. We'll all handle Mary O'Leary. Don't worry about that. Just remember, I only want what's right for you!"

His smile told her a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That was good. She'd take that fucking weight, find this Katie, and drop it on her fucking head. No one would take Alistair away from her until she decided. 

In the meantime, she'd call Guus Kessen when Alistair was on his little soiree tonight. Options! Always have options! Assuming today had gone as planned with Becky, the multi millionaire was in her debt. She'd make a point of increasing that debt. 

Meantime, she had to make sure that her boyfriend didn't shut her out. "And Alistair," she added, playfully ruffling his long, dark hair. "I'm on your side! I understand! Talk to me after you've seen Katie. Keep me up-to-date. I only want what's best for you. Okay?"

***

Rebecca saw the triumphant look in Kessen's eyes as he rose from his chair and pulled her to her feet. She'd never been in such a submissive role before. Strangely, it only served to heighten her arousal. So did the fact that the millionaire was so overweight. 

There was something about submitting to such a vile looking creature that added to the sensations circling her body. But there was still no way that she was going to fuck him. That was completely off limits.

"No, Guus," she told him as he held her wrists and pushed her down into his chair. "I won't..."

"Fuck me," he finished for her, opening a drawer of his desk. "But you will, Rebecca. One day. One day you'll give yourself to me willingly."

"Never," she panted, although there was no denying the thought of allowing the large Dutchman to fuck her was somehow sending a shiver of arousal through her already overheated body. She watched as he removed a bottle of oil, pouring the liquid into one hand before placing the container on the desk and rubbing the liquid into both of his large palms.

Leaning forward, his slippery hands enveloped her velvet-smooth breasts, beginning to stroke and squeeze the dark Brazilian skin Rebecca sighed, settling back in the chair. If the millionaire wanted to pleasure her tits, that was okay by her. She might even cum if the bastard continued to manipulate her swells that way.

Closing her eyes to enjoy the sensations created by his stroking fingers, she felt more oil streaming over her erect nipples as Kessen poured more lubricant onto her dark golden skin. Then both hands of his hands were on her again, expertly manipulated her gleaming, jutting breasts.

Oh God, that was fantastic. She was in sexual heaven. He could have no idea the effect of pleasuring her breasts had on her, and her dark brown eyes slowly opened to look at the beaming man, his own eyes glazed with arousal.

"That feels good, my dear?" he murmured, watching Rebecca's beautiful face as his fingers slid effortlessly over her soft skin, smiling triumphantly as her sensuous lips let out another pleasurable sigh.

She realised that the bottle was half empty and it clicked with her that it wasn't the first time a woman had found herself in this position in his office. She idly wondered whether any had experienced as much pleasure as that running through her fabulous body.


As his hands worked slowly and easily on her firm, oiled tits, Kessen slid a trousered thigh between her legs, pushing them open until he nestled against her damp thong. Rebecca grunted at the pressure. Her body took on a mind of its own. Within a few seconds, she had begun to rotate her curvy hips against him, unable to stop herself and not even wanting to.

Her bullet hard dark nipples were begging to be sucked, but she clenched her teeth and allowed his smoothly sliding hands to continue their pleasuring. Shame on her, she felt her thong covered crotch slither across the Dutchman's leg as she masturbated herself against him. Don't, she pleaded with herself. Her body wouldn't listen.

Her clitoris was fully exposed from its hooded sheath, gliding deliciously back and forth through her thong onto his meaty thigh. The feeling sent waves of shivery pleasure through her overheated body. God, much more of this and she was going to cum. Please, her narrowed brown eyes silently pleaded, keep going.


Kessen heard her breaths now soft purrs of excitement. His penis had stayed hard throughout and he knew the captive woman was now ready for the next phase. His own breath increased, quick and heavy pants now, his hands squeezing the young Brazilian woman's superb breasts harder as he shifted his position.


Rebecca's grunted her objection as Kessen's leg moved away from between her thighs, her brow furrowing in frustration as hips rose from the chair as she tried to keep rubbing herself against him. It was only when he changed position that his intentions became clear.

He was going to fuck her after all. But it was her tits he intended to fuck. A mixture of apprehension and excitement shot through. This would be a first. And she wanted it, needed it, with a passion that wouldn't be denied.

The Dutchman knelt over Rebecca and shuffled forwards until his overweight body towered over her and his plump buttocks rested lightly on her washboard flat stomach. His hands slithered firmly over her heavily oiled breasts, his face smiling at her gasp as she felt the weight of his girthy erection nestle into her shining cleavage.

All of his ministrations had simply been preparing her for this moment!

"Ready, my lekker stuk?" he asked as he eased his hips forwards over the beautiful young woman's slim body. He sighed as he closed Rebecca's slippery breasts around his thick girth. His erection slid deliciously between her swells until his purple dome appeared just below her neck.

"Ready?" he triumphantly grunted again, the question simply reinforcing his domination. Gasping with excitement, he began to thrust gently back and forth above her voluptuous body, his grey eyes fixing on hers as he unhurriedly began to fuck Rebecca's tits.

The bottom of her vision could see his cockhead appear from the tunnel of soft flesh on his inward strokes. She closed her eyes to block out the unwanted yet arousing sight, but somehow the fact she was still able to feel and hear him slithering between her gleaming breasts enhanced the feelings reverberating around her dark skinned body. 

She hated the way he was using her... didn't she? And yet she could hear her own quickening breaths, heavy with arousal at the delicious tingling that radiated from every thrust of his cock between her oil covered globes.


Kessen was panting hotly now, his face red from his exertions. Sweat covered his forehead with each continuous thrust between this Brazilian's beauty's superb bosom. Her nipples were bullet-hard beneath his sliding hands. The sight of her submitting to him was almost as fulfilling as the sensations her greasy breast tunnel was producing. 

He knew he couldn't last much longer. 

He let go of her breasts for a second and dragged her hands onto her jutting swells to replace his. She accepted the unspoken instruction, pushing her tits even more tightly around his sliding cock. He groaned aloud at her willing subservience.

Dropping his right hand down behind him, he slithered his fat fingers down into her thong. Rebecca gasped as she opened her legs to allow him more freedom. He took it willingly and his fingers easily found her engorged clitoris. Her gasp turned into a moan when he slid a finger inside her and flicked his thumb against her aching button.

"Ngh!" she moaned as she bucked her body upwards. 

She moaned again as he worked his fingers faster. When the Dutchman flicked her g-spot, she came, flooding his hand with her honeyed nectar. He thrust his cock harder between her tits, while at the same time his fingers refused to give the twenty-two year old any respite. 

Rebecca groaned again as she felt herself begin to spiral upwards once more and then shouted out in Portuguese as a second orgasm hit her. The thought that the whole of his office could hear her cries made the orgasm more powerful. The realisation that the entire floor would know she was being abused saw her groans grow even louder. 

She had no way to know the room was soundproofed.

Satisfied that her orgasms provided him with yet another victory, the large Dutchman began to plunge faster between her gleaming breasts. They were perfectly shaped and perfectly tanned, not a hint of any bikini line anywhere. She continued to hold them throughout to allow his huge erection to plunge relentlessly through the fleshy cavity.

Her deep brown eyes followed his, and when he saw the unadulterated arousal burning in them, he whimpered as he passed the point of no return.


When his huge erection pulsed strongly against her soft, sensitive skin, Rebecca understood that the large millionaire was about to spend. The Dutchman gasped with relief as the first warm, creamy jet of semen shot from his purple penis, flying over Rebecca's shoulder and landed in the thick silk of her dark hair.

His shaft pulsed again and Rebecca flinched as his hot seed splashed across her forehead. Her overheated arousal took over. Kessen may have intended the facial as the ultimate indignity, but she didn't care.

Her hands released her breasts, allowing her lips to dart to his cock and engulf him before he could fire his third shot. 

Kessen panted with pleasure at her eager, lewd actions, seemingly creating even more creamy manjuice as his third burst of thick seed splashed against the back of her throat. His orgasm deepened as she sucked and swallowed. His peak seemed to go on and on as he emptied himself prodigiously into her welcoming mouth, until eventually the flow of semen became merely a series of tiny globes that the young Brazilian beauty gratefully sucked from him.

It took some time for the businessman to recover, his red face and heavy, wheezing pants resembling a man about to experience a heart attack. He slumped back down into his vacated chair as Rebecca retrieved her scattered clothes. 

"Wonderful, Rebecca," he panted. "You're even more than I expected. Take your money, but..."

"No," she barked at him, her eyes blazing as she struggled into her blouse, not realising or caring that she was ignoring her bra. "No buts!"

The Dutchman nodded, as if confirming he wasn't attempting to manipulate her. He wasn't. But the session had only made him want her more. 

"No buts," he repeated, pausing for breath as she pulled on her skirt. "Except to say that when you let me fuck you, I'll write the debt off. All thirty thousand pounds! Think about it..."

***

Katie's mind raced as she put down the phone. Her first reaction at Alistair's news that he couldn't make their appointment had been one of extreme disappointment. It surprised her how deep her feelings ran. But then he'd asked her out to dinner. In a professional capacity of course, he'd explained. Perhaps they could have their session in less formal surroundings?

She knew what her answer should have been. She was also aware of how Brian Sterling would react if she told him. As she should. But she didn't.

Instead of rearranging the appointment, she'd instantly agreed. And she would keep it to herself. After all, this was probably the last time she'd see the black politician. Even this meeting was tenuous at best. She couldn't help the troubled man. Not as a psychiatrist. But she owed him this final meeting.

She giggled to herself as she twirled a loose strand of dark hair between her fingers. Who was she kidding? She was seeing him because she wanted to. Wanted to what? Wanted to see what would happen. 

Another giggle emerged. Even that thought wasn't quite being truthful with herself. There was one thing in her mind. Two actually. She wanted to taste him, suck his black cock. And she wanted him to fuck her. The fact he had a girlfriend made no difference to her. Besides, that relationship looked fragile at least. He'd said he did nothing without his girlfriend knowing. Well, she'd see!

Damn! How wicked? What had got into her? 

The thought of seeing him again was already sending warm shivers down to her sex. She usually only experienced that feeling when she was hunting for a stranger's cock to suck. But this was the same, she knew. Except this time, Alistair Brinkley-Jones wasn't a stranger. And his cock was black...

If this was the last time she was to see him, she'd make sure she had it before the night was out.

***

Erika had missed a couple of calls from Rebecca before she'd had time to phone her back. She'd had quite a bit on her plate that afternoon. But Alistair's sessions with the media allowed her some free time late afternoon. So she'd eventually returned the call, telling Becky that she'd created some time early evening and would meet her. 

The timing was perfect. 

It gave her the chance to meet her Brazilian friend and still get back to the Conservative Party Headquarters in time for Thomas and Sally's report on their findings. The Grove Rochester Hotel was the ideal location. Situated in Westminster's Vincent Square, it was close enough to the Tory offices and sufficiently quiet for them not to be overheard.

More importantly in the grand scheme of things, it also gave the blonde woman the opportunity to gauge Becky's reaction to her meeting with Guus. Not that she needed to know what had happened. She'd already had an effusive description of their liaison from the Dutchman moments before he left to catch his private jet to Monte Carlo.

What had he said? He was in her debt... he hadn't anticipated quite how hot Thomas's girlfriend would be... how willing she'd be! It was music to Erika's ears, the gate to her transferring her loyalty from Alistair, if that's what circumstances dictated. Guus Kessen could be her future.

But what she wanted now was to use the happenings of the day to increase the strong hold she was beginning to exert on her young friend.

"I can't believe it," Rebecca told her, once they'd settled in a corner of the bar area and their drinks had been delivered. She covered her face with her hands as she repeated the words. "Just can't believe it!" 

Erika laughed. It was a calculated laugh. Make it appear as if it was no big deal. "Oh, Becky," her soft Scandinavian accent purred. "You did what I would have done. Hell, honey, I would have fucked him to get my studio."

The twenty-two year old Brazilian raised her head. Any words of comfort were welcome in the circumstances. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Erika replied, filling the two glasses from the bottle of champagne she'd ordered. "Let's celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Rebecca asked, clinking the flute that the Swedish woman proffered. 

"Yes, Becky! Celebrate! You have your finance now and soon you'll have your studio. You did what you had to. I would have done the same, more. We have a lot to celebrate!" 

"I didn't just go down on him," the Brazilian woman suddenly confessed, her dark brown eyes wide with excitement as she glanced around them. There was no one within earshot. Even so, her voice lowered to a whisper. "He tit fucked me," she blushingly admitted.

Erika let out another laugh and this time, Becky responded with a self-conscious grin. "One of my favourite things," the Swede said, raising a perfectly manicured blonde eyebrow as she refilled their flutes again.

"You've done it?" Rebecca asked, her delicious mouth dropping open.

"There's nothing I haven't done," Erika responded, flashing a wicked grin. "You have no idea, Becky. I'll tell you what's best in a moment! But first, confess, honey. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

The Brazilian woman's eyes widened. A flash of excitement appeared in them. It was difficult to stop her voice from trembling. She felt guilt, embarrassment and shame. Guus had coerced her, no doubt about that. But in the end she'd given herself willingly. What was worse, she was still feeling the buzz. Being unfaithful to Thomas had left her with an intense sexual hum that continued to flow around her body. 

"That's what's so awful, Erika," she confessed, her voice rising. "Yes! I did this to get the finance I needed and in the end I loved every second."

"I should hope so," the blonde woman responded, a wide smile creasing her beautiful face. "You think you should have done it and hated every second? That would assuage your guilt? As the English say, do me a favour. How can you not enjoy sex? Especially wicked sex."

She reached an arm out and snaked it around the Brazilian woman's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. It was a warm gesture, the sign of a friend. But the sexual frisson was there nevertheless. Rebecca was still on a sexual high. And Erika was just the person to take advantage!

"Here, another glass," she said, draining her drink and waiting for Becky to do the same before topping up their drinks. "To the future!"

"I'll be drunk," the Brazilian woman laughed, covering her mouth to disguise a hiccup.

"Don't be a lightweight," Erika laughed. "And let me tell you, what you did with Guus stopped you from hating Thomas." 

"Hating?"

From the look in the younger woman's eyes, she could see that she was her cock-eyed logic into her open mind. Push it home!

"Of course. You have your dream now. Your studio! Forget about Guus Kessen. Forget about what happened. And concentrate on opening your business. I have some great thoughts on helping you, you know? We can get this up and running in no time."




Politics Ch. 06



Chapter 6: From the sublime to the ridiculous

Thomas was frustrated. Boy, was he frustrated!!

With the General Election only three days away, he was now working sixteen-hour days. That meant that he and Becky hadn't made love for over a week. Not since she'd practically sexually assaulted him the day he'd arrived home following his night with Erika. It was making him irritable, affecting his demeanour, and his judgement, too.

Becky must be feeling the same way, but she was putting in similar hours in an effort to get her exercise studio up and running. Erika had found her the prime position and helped negotiate the lease. It wouldn't take much to have it exactly as she wanted. The formal opening was right on schedule. Only two days away. 

Opening so close to the election was an ironic coincidence. Both of them were working ceaselessly towards a common timeframe, yet such different objectives.

Her total concentration on that project was overshadowing everything else in her life, including him. Not that he was complaining. It was such a wonderful opportunity for her and one she deserved. The next time he spoke to Guus Kessen, he'd have to thank him for so generously financing his girlfriend.

The lack of sex wasn't his only frustration, of course. It's just that it was making it more difficult to concentrate on the political campaign. They were in a mess, and if they were unable to find a way forward, Alistair's chances of becoming the first black British Prime Minister were all but buried.

For a couple of days, after the Northern Ireland debate, they were flying high. Some polls even had then five percentage points ahead of Labour. But now that Jack Murphy had broken the Mary O'Leary story—despite all the threats Thomas could come up with—the percentage lead had reversed. Five points behind with three days to go!!

Things had gone from the sublime to the ridiculous!

It didn't matter that there wasn't a single shred of evidence, nor that they'd denied every single allegation made and threatened to sue, the tabloids and the Labour broadsheets had picked up the story and were all running with it.

Nor did it help that Alistair was so short-tempered. The negative impact on his chances of winning had hit him hard, though Thomas had a feeling there was more to his constant irritability than that. Although the atmosphere had improved between the politician and Erika, there were some underlying currents that didn't quite add up. 

Nor had any donation from Brian Sterling been forthcoming as far as he could tell. He'd caught Alistair trying the businessman's office a few times but it appeared they weren't taking his calls. That reminded the Campaign Manger—Guus Kessen's donation hadn't arrived yet, either. With the Dutchman backing Becky financially, he hadn't wanted to chase him for the money.

But they needed that million...

Despite their depressing poll ratings, it was impossible to fault the politician for effort. When he wasn't attending to other matters, he was out on the streets, canvassing, wearing out his shoe leather and putting the hours in. If the Election were judged on effort alone, he'd be the clear winner. Hell, if it were based on policies, he'd walk away with it too.

But it wasn't. It appeared to be simply based on the Mary O'Leary story!

That disclosure had fucked them and the public seemed to believe he was guilty by implication. Not only that, there were already internal rumbles of discontent, though it was too late for the Party to do anything other than close ranks and support their leader. Still, one or two of those on the backbenches weren't helping with the leakages to the tabloid press!

And Alistair's decision to ignore that particular section of the media was self-defeating. Okay, it stopped him from having to face the same banal questions over and over again. But some people were seeing it as an admission of guilt. The whole thrust of their campaign had changed. It had stopped being about politics, or the people, and instead focused on his battle with the media. And on this fucking story, of course... or should that be, a story about fucking?

There had to be a way forward. They were dead otherwise. But what?

***

"Guus!" Erika checked her face in the mirror as she spoke, running a hand through her wavy blonde hair. 

"Hello, my dear," the Dutchman warmly murmured. "I do look forward to our regular chats."

"Me too," Erika murmured, flicking her tongue across her glossy red lips. 

It had become her morning routine over the past week; the only way to deal with Alistair and the mess of the election. Call Guus. She'd made a point of having a daily conversation with the Dutchman, despite his stay in Monte Carlo being extended. 

But now he was back in London, it was time to up the ante.

What had become known in the tabloid press as the 'Mary O'Leary affair' was destroying their hopes of an election victory. And if that happened, there was no doubt that Alistair would be outed as the Conservative Party leader. 

In disgrace!

Unbeknown to others, it wasn't just his career that would be in tatters. Although he's attempted to keep it from her, his parents were very unhappy with the situation, too. Irrespective of whether there was any element of truth, they saw their son as dragging the family name through the mud. If there wasn't an immediate resolution, he could say goodbye to his inheritance.

If that wasn't bad enough, it wasn't the only thing he was keeping from her. The poor bastard was mooning around like a lovesick dog. After their chat in his office, he'd been more open with, even going so far as to confess he had 'some feelings' for this Katie.

Some feelings? What the fuck did that mean? And did he expect her to listen patiently to him and sympathise? Allow him to humiliate her by signalling he was on the verge of dropping her for this bitch of a shrink? 

She had listened patiently, of course. It was important to her plan that he thought she was on his side. Inside, of course, she was seething. Irrespective of the General Election result, it was over between them. If he lost the election and his inheritance, it was over between them. Why would she stay with a loser?

And if by some miracle things worked out, she had no intention of remaining with someone who was so flagrantly dishonouring her. The photographs she had in her possession would find their way to the press. What better time than after he'd been voted into power? Revenge would be so sweet.

And then there was the revenge she wanted on this woman. It appeared that Katie was refusing to return his calls, and he was handling the rejection badly. It was pathetic. But if they did get back together, she knew exactly how she'd deal with the two of them. It made her mouth water...

All of this led to one thing as far as Erika was concerned. A need to cultivate Guus Kessen! With money like his, who cared how overweight he was? He'd be the perfect short-term replacement until she advanced to her next victim. Victim! What a wonderful description. It fit perfectly.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Guus, I'm here," she responded, pulling herself out of her thoughts. "I was just thinking, now you're back in England, how good it would be for the two of us to meet up sometime during the next week. It's been too long, don't you think?"

The sigh of approval at the other end of the line suggested she'd surprised but pleased him. "That sounds wonderful, my dear."

"I mean," she continued, lowering her tone to what she regarded as her seductive Scandinavian lilt, "we seem to make such a good team, don't you think. After all, you helped with Rebecca, and gained your—shall we say—reward? I feel as if I owe you something. Don't you?"

"I see," the Dutchman slowly responded, his change in tone telling him that realisation was dawning. "And Alistair?"

"Well, Thomas doesn't know anything about your... er... arrangement with Rebecca. Why should Alistair need to know anything about our arrangement? Besides, I've wanted to get to know you better for some time..."

"I see," came the studied response. "And tell me, Erika. Do you see our arrangement containing the same sort of benefits I enjoyed with Rebecca?"

"Well, Guus," she purred, putting even emphasis on her sultry Scandinavian accent. "I'd say that anything is possible, wouldn't you?" 

***

"What is it?" Alistair Brinkley-Jones asked as he joined Thomas and Sally in the conference room. He was sick of the sight of those bloody walls. "I have a few things to tidy up before I take to the streets of London again. The great unwashed gave me a right ear bashing yesterday, but I'm fucked if I know what else to do."

Sally glanced across at Thomas. It wasn't just the words. The strain on the black politician's face was plain enough. She had no idea how he'd react to Thomas's suggestion. She wasn't even sure how she felt about it.

"Doesn't anyone ever tidy this place?" Alistair grumpily asked, pulling a chair out and wearily plonking himself down. There were papers spread across the glass table—faxes, newspapers, campaign literature, even some spoiled fruit, half eaten food and empty cans. 

"Look, I don't have much time, he continued, picking up a bottle of water and downing half of it in one go. "Can we make this quick and painless?"

The door burst open just as Thomas started to respond. "Sorry I'm late," Erika smiled, looking as composed as ever. "Phone call. Have we started?"

"No," the Campaign Manager advised, pushing back his golden farmer boy hair. Her timing was ideal. He needed Erika's opinion on the idea he was going to float. He glanced at the three faces staring in his direction. "But Alistair's in a hurry so let me get right to the point..."

He paused, grateful for Sally's warm nod of encouragement.

"Our ratings have stalled over the last week," he continued. "No, that's wrong. They've gone backwards at a rate of knots. And it's not because of anything that Paul Collinson or George Blair are doing. It's all down to this one story."

"Tell me something else that's new..." the politician irritably growled.

"A story that you were supposed to be controlling..." Erika added.

"That's unfair!" It was Sally who cut in. As loyal to her employers as she was, the diminutive redhead wasn't going to see Thomas blamed. 

"That's okay," he smiled at her. "This story has us all at our wit's end. But we can't go on like this. We aren't going to make up five points in three days by doing the same thing. We've gone into our shell, cutting contact with the less salubrious sections of the press, staying out of the firing line. We need something drastic. A change of direction."

"Such as?" Erika asked, crossing her arms over her full breasts as she leant back against the conference room door.

"We go on the offensive."

"Offensive?" Alistair snorted. "Which means exactly what?"

Thomas turned a seat around and sat down, leaning forward on the back of the chair. "Which means instead of hiding away from publicity, we go looking for it. Instead of ignoring questions on Mary O'Leary, we answer them. Instead of looking guilty, we take the higher ground."

"It won't work—" Alistair began.

Sally cut in. "It's got to be better than what's happening now. We've effectively lost eight percentage points in a week. We're heading for earth in flames and we've got to get ourselves out of this nosedive."

"Flying a fucking airplane, are we?" Alistair ungraciously said. "Look—"

"She's right," Thomas interrupted. "Basically, we're fucked. We've just been denying that. You might not see it this way, Alistair, but the way you've reacted is the way of a guilty man. If there's any chance of winning this, we need to dramatically change people's perceptions. Overnight!"

For a few minutes, no one spoke. It was Erika who broke the silence. If they were crashing and burning, that was fine by her. So was getting Alistair back in the spotlight. Make the bastard suffer. "It makes sense, darling," she said, smiling sweetly at the black politician. "You have such charisma. If anyone can turn this round, you can."

Brinkley-Jones didn't speak at first. His eyes were rolling around his head, his face creased in thought. He bit down on his lower lip. "Isn't it all too late?" he said with a sigh, his shoulders sinking into a resigned shrug.

"Possibly," Thomas admitted. "Probably, even, if we're honest with ourselves. But I don't want to go down without a fight."

"You think I'm not fighting?"

"Of course you are, Alistair. We all are! But effort alone is no good, and especially if it's misplaced. If we're going to lose, let's go down in a blaze of glory."

"Which means?" Alistair and Erika chorused in union.

"I rang Larry Paxman this morning. Offered him an exclusive appearance on tonight's Newsnight show."

It was as if a cold wind blew through the room. "You've what?" Alistair confrontationally asked. "How fucking stupid—"

"Wait," Erika interrupted, thinking it through. He was right—it was fucking stupid. Larry Paxman was a rottweiler and would tear Alistair limb from limb. What a delicious thought! "It makes sense," she added, her heart leaping at the embarrassment it might cause. "Shows that you're not frightened to face him, face the country. I think you should do it!" 

"It's a risk," Sally interjected. "But in our situation, we need to take a risk. It's our only chance."

"Think about it," Thomas urged, leaning forward in his chair so that the back legs rose from the floor. "The programme gives you two opportunities. Refuting everything about the woman, and then getting your policies across. And the fact it's live let's you control it better, Alistair. When you're in full flow, there's not a more impressive sight."

The black politician grunted, his lack of objection indicating he was coming around to Thomas's way of thinking.

"Let Paxman ask what he wants" the fair-haired Campaign Manager continued. "Then it's all about how you respond. Answer everything truthfully. Then when the time is right, hit him with, Larry, I know why you're asking the question, but should someone as experienced as you be indulging this rubbish? Why are you dignifying such ludicrous accusations? There... is... no... truth... in... the... story! Period!"

The room quietened again, but this time it was a warmer silence. Thomas's enthusiastic words had taken them all by surprise. The young man pressed his point home.

"The crucial variable in all of this isn't Mary O'Leary. It's you, Alistair. People don't know you well enough yet. The Belfast debate began that process, but we've backed off. However painful the questions, we need to let the public see the real you again. What you believe in. Show that you care."

"What have you got to lose?" Sally cut in. "We're dead otherwise. "

Thomas jumped up from his chair, as if standing would emphasise his point. "We only have the final appearance in Scotland between you and the Election," he rasped. "If the Paxman appearance goes well, and you wow them in Glasgow, we might just have an outside chance."

The black politician rose from his chair and slowly headed across to the conference room door. As Erika stepped to one side and held it open for him, he glanced back at the fair-haired Campaign Manager. "If this goes badly, I'm fucked, and you're fucking fired..."

***

"So, I'll be sacked soon," Thomas murmured, as Erika followed Alistair out of the door. He swung back to look at Sally. "Fuck me!"

The petite redhead smiled and tipped her head to one side. She'd do exactly that soon enough. "Why thank you for the offer, sweetheart. After a tough meeting like that, sex is often a good stress reliever."

"Very funny," he uncomfortably said, his eyes sliding to the v-shaped red blouse. Her breasts were perky rather than big and he couldn't help but notice her sexy black bra that he could see through the thin material. Hell, even during his discussion with Alistair and Erika, he'd been aware of it.

Sally sat on the edge of the table, seemingly oblivious to the way her short, black skirt rode up her thigh, revealing a flash of lightly tanned skin above her nude coloured stockings. She always wore stockings, he'd noticed. Very sexy.

"Not funny," she told him. "True. And the thing is, with the hours we've both been working—neither of us has had much time at home. You've been more and more irritable as the week has progressed. So've I. You know what that's a sign of?"

Thomas cleared his throat, but didn't answer. He knew only too well. Sally raised an eyebrow, telling him she was waiting for his reply.

"It's only for another few days," he grunted with a shrug.

"Maybe?" the petite redhead sexily murmured. "But tell me the truth, Thomas. You have imagined us together haven't you? I know you have."

He felt his cock stir. This discussion wasn't good for his blood pressure. With each conversation, she seemed to be a little bolder, as if turning the screw. "You're married," he lamely replied, as if that would end the subject.

Sally flicked a hand through her coppery bob and allowed herself a low laugh. "What? You think that would worry me? Thomas, you're such an innocent. What Jeremy doesn't know, doesn't hurt!"

She swivelled around on the table, deliberately crossing her legs to allow him a sight of the suspenders holding her stockings up.

Thomas pulled his eyes away, but knew he was too late. She'd seen his glance. And his blush was a dead giveaway, too. "And I have Becky," he added. "I'm all but married."

"Becky?" she said with another of those child-like laughs. "Thoughts of Becky didn't stop you from fucking Erika in Belfast, did it?"

His pale blush turned deep red.

"Oh, don't worry," she told him. "You're secret's safe with me."

"I... I was coerced," he mumbled.

This time, Sally's laugh was full blooded. "Oh, that's it? You like your women to force you? Then have no fear, buster, I'm just the girl."

Thomas frowned. He couldn't help the way his body reacted to her sexual teasing. But he wasn't going to betray Becky again. Ever. Not with Sally, Erika, or any woman.

"Sally..." he began, but the diminutive redhead was already swinging her body from the glass table as a couple of party workers headed across to the conference room.

"Don't worry," she whispered as the two elderly workers paused at the door, unsure whether to disturb them. They'd booked the room out for a meeting that was already late. "I can tell from your eyes that you want me," the redhead told him, seconds before she pulled open the door. "And just so you know, the feeling is mutual..."

***

Katie Nichols was in turmoil. Over the man she was beginning to develop feelings for. That thought frightened her. 

She was, or had been, Alistair Brinkley-Jones' psychiatrist. And she'd betrayed that bond. Brian Sterling was her boss, and she'd defied his instructions. The Conservative Party leader had a girlfriend, and she'd ignored that fact. They were all considerations that were weighing heavily on her mind. 

Yet despite them, she willingly allowed him to fuck her. In a public restaurant. Anyone could have walked in. Anyone could have heard. And it would have destroyed Alistair's reputation for good. Things were bad enough with the lies about him and the Irish girl that were plastered all over the media. 

Then there was Brian. He'd go apeshit if he knew what they'd done. What they'd done? Her laughter floated into the empty air of her office. She'd fucked a client, the biggest sin that there was in her world. Hell, she could have embezzled millions from the firm and the news wouldn't be received as badly.

If she allowed the relationship to go any further, she'd have to tell Brian, of course. And that could cost her job.




Politics Ch. 06



All reasons why she was refusing to take any of Alistair's calls since that night. But there was another. She hadn't felt this way about anyone for a long time. Not since Peter. That frightened her. So did the fact that she wasn't sure she could trust Alistair. How could you trust a man who fucked you while he was in a relationship with another woman? 

Okay, she understood that the relationship was on its last legs. But then, he'd already confessed to being a sex addict. Was she just one of his many conquests? She had no idea of the answer to that one. 

What she did know was that he'd only need to speak to her again for her to give in. She missed him. More than that, she craved his attention. She wanted to see him, be with him. And she ached for his thick, black cock to be inside her again. Fucking her. Oh, God!

One thing was for sure. It had cured her of her need to suck a stranger's cock. Temporarily at least. Her masturbatory fantasies were now all centred on Alistair's black prick. Feeling it inside her, pounding away!

Damn, damn, damn!

She glanced at her mobile phone. It was closing in on lunchtime and he hadn't tried to contact her today. What was wrong? Why not?

Maybe next time, she'd answer his call?

***

Damn, damn, damn! 

Was their any point in calling her again? Alistair had telephoned Katie several times every day since they'd fucked in Gordon Ramsay's restaurant. She hadn't answered once, nor had she returned a single call, despite the messages he'd left for her.

It seemed his whole life was crumbling around him. The vicious tabloid press were hounding him on this O'Leary story. The impact on popularity was being reflected in the opinion polls. His parents were on his back, as if all of this were somehow his fault. His need for sex was eating away at his insides and yet he and Erika hadn't fucked for a week. 

In fact, they'd hardly seen that much of one another outside the office during that time. She'd been remarkably supportive, much more than he'd anticipated or felt he deserved. He'd certainly misjudged her.

The only positive in all of this was that his craving for the lifestyle his Swedish girlfriend had introduced had left him. It was a different craving that consumed him. He wanted Katie. Wanted her body. Wanted to take her. Wanted to fuck her.

But it was so much more. There was a chemistry between them that went far beyond mere physical attraction. It was what he imagined being in love would feel like. Except he'd never been in love.

It was curious. Being Prime Minister was his destiny, thought it appeared as if he might have to wait another four years. Receiving his inheritance had been at the forefront of his mind ever since he could remember. Yet, right now, both paled into insignificance compared to his ache for Katie. 

If she would just answer his call—talk to him again—he'd find it so much easier to deal with all the other crap. But how could he reach her?

As the idea hit him, he felt his breath catch. His chest tightened. There was only one way. He glanced at his watch as jumped up from his desk and headed for the door. Noon. Other things could wait.

It would take around twenty minutes to reach her offices.

***

Rebecca checked herself out in the mirror one final time. The crisp, low cut top and matching oatmeal-coloured linen skirt were classy enough for wherever they were dining, yet casual enough not to look overdressed for whatever it was that Erika was planning for later.

In addition to putting her cleavage on show, the skirt displayed the long expanses of her shapely legs. She looked sexy. She felt sexy.

The shadow that crossed the window made her glance outside. If it wasn't the biggest limo she'd ever seen, it was close to it. Erika had told her she needed a break from the long hours working towards opening her exercise studio and suggested that lunch today was the perfect opportunity.

Plus 'a surprise' afterwards, whatever that was!

As usual, her Swedish friend was right. She had been working too hard. But how could she not when her dream was so close? The opening was imminent, with just a few bits and pieces to fit into place. And Erika had been wonderful—helping her secure premises, opening doors, and hurrying work through much more quickly than would otherwise have been possible. 

She deserved a break! Deus! She hadn't even had sex for a week. That was a lifetime!! Once the studio was open, and the horrid General Election out of the way, she knew exactly how she and Thomas would celebrate!

She pulled the door open.

"Mrs. Dos Santos?" the chauffeur asked. Not quite, but it was close enough. In the dove-grey uniform and peaked cap under his arm, he looked like he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine. Even the thin scar running down his tight cheek added a little character to his appearance.

"Won't be a moment," she answered, feeling her jaw drop and quickly regaining her composure. He looked dishy and there was certainly an impressive physique under that uniform. 

Hmmm, she'd never fucked in a limo before!! The Brazilian beauty felt her nipples harden at the thought. Deus, her abstinence from sex was playing havoc with her libido. When she'd masturbated last night, Guus Kessen had featured as well as Thomas. Heavens, Erika was in there somewhere, too!

That worried her. So did her reaction to Erika's occasional kisses. In her part of Brazil, it was forbidden for two women to be together, though she knew it was prevalent enough elsewhere. She'd often wondered about it...

But from now on, man or woman, there was to be no more sexual dalliances. She'd done what she needed to and Thomas was the only person for her going forward. Who knows, maybe even marriage could be in the cards once they'd got over their current workloads. What better way to cement their relationship?

Becky gave a little giggle to herself when she collected her purse and pulled the door closed behind her. Thomas would swallow his tongue if she mentioned marriage. They'd joked about it previously but now... well, now—it just might not be that bad an idea?!

Watching the chauffeur's ass in that suit as he returned to the limo, she shook her head. She needed a long, long session to be able to get rid of her sexual frustrations and it was Thomas she needed to scratch the itch. 

Maybe tonight?

Stretching her legs in the air-conditioned interior, the raven-haired beauty let out a long sigh of contentment. Her encounter with Guus Kessen was behind her and she'd celebrate in style with her wonderful new friend. Erika had done more than she could ever have expected. The new studio was a dream that was on the verge of coming true and when she was successful, she'd do something to repay the Scandinavian woman.

But for today, she'd allow herself to relax and enjoy Erika's hospitality.

"Miss Johansson said to tell you there's some refreshment in the bar in front of your seat," the good-looking chauffeur announced from his seat. "There's fresh ice in the bucket and mixers in the refrigerator."

Fresh ice? Refrigerator? In a car? Rebecca grinned to herself. This was seriously wicked. Maybe when her exercise studio had taken off... deus, when her series of studios had taken off... this would be her?

Staring into the Aladdin's cave in front of her, she saw that every preference was catered for. Settling on the red wine, she poured a larger glass than she'd intended and settled back into the comfortable cushions.

The wine gave her an immediate rush. Drinking wasn't really her bag, though it seemed standard practice around Erika. Why not? Everything about today was special. Worth savouring. It wasn't just an opportunity to relax from her heavy workload. It was a celebration, too. Her parents back in Brazil had been so proud of her when she'd phoned and told them.

Pulling up outside of Roussillon, Rebecca's heart was in her mouth. She'd never be able to afford lunch here under any circumstances. Thanking the hunk of a driver and then spontaneously planting a kiss on his cheek, she hurried inside before she grabbed him and fucked his brains out.

She really had to satisfy that need bubbling inside her. Maybe she should cancel whatever Erika had planned for later and call Thomas? She gave a quick snort. Even if she did, there was no way he'd be able to find time in the afternoon. God knows what time he'd be home tonight.

The maitre d' hovered beside the entrance as if he'd been waiting for her. "Mrs. de Santos?" he asked in his heavy and very sexy French accent. "This way." The way the imperious man led her across to where Erika was sitting at what appeared to be the best table in the room. 

Rebecca gave a delicious giggle to herself. What else would she have expected? That wine must have been good, she already felt a little woozy! 

***

"Katie!"

"Alistair!"

The attractive psychiatrist nodded to the matronly receptionist who'd shown the black politician to her office. "That's fine, Diana. Thanks."

The grey haired woman sent a puzzled frown in her direction, and then obediently backed out, softly pulling the door closed behind her. Katie stood by her chair, staring at the handsome man.

Alistair didn't move from the door, his heart beating faster. "I had to see you," he explained. "Why? Why haven't you answered my calls?"

"I couldn't," she told him, her large eyes even larger at the shock of his arrival. Her skin was covered in goose bumps. Her insides were churning.

"Why?" he asked again.

Katie's mouth opened, but no words came out. How could she explain? What could she say? Some of it didn't even make sense to her.

"You look good," he suddenly told her, his eyes running up and down her body. He loved those short-skirted business suits she wore. On anyone else, the grey pinstripe and white blouse would look ordinary. On her, they were classy, professional, and so very sexy, too!

She nodded. She looked good? So did he! Good enough to eat. Good enough to suck his cock. Good enough... to fuck.

No, they couldn't. Not here. Recollections of their sex in the restaurant filled her mind. The abandoned way he'd taken her. In a public place! Full of danger of discovery! It had given her a thrill that had lodged in her body and still threatened to overwhelm her. And now... here in her office... could she?

The same thoughts seemed to hit her lover. Their eyes spoke, breaking the panting silence between them. She didn't know who moved first, but suddenly they were in each other's arms. Their lips locked, franticly, two lovers trying to make up for lost time. Alistair's hands mauled her breasts. Katie's reached for his trousers, quickly freeing his cock.

This wasn't a snake. It was an anaconda.

Katie sank to her knees. It was the middle of her office and anyone—Brian Sterling even, if he learnt Alistair was there—could walk in. So dangerous. So hot! The thought of getting fucked right now instantly had her wet. Fuck! What kind of woman was she turning into?

Her deep moan slipped out uninhibited, vibrating around the black shaft she was massaging in her throat. He buried his hand in her chestnut coloured hair as she assaulted his manhood, attempting to control her frantic movements. She shook her head, trying to throw his hand away, burning with the need to suck him even harder.

"Oh, God," he groaned, holding her head still as he fought back from the edge of an imminent orgasm. "Fuck, Katie, I'm close!"

She pulled away instantly and jumped to her feet. "Already? Not yet," she gasped. "Not 'til you've fucked me." 

"Here?" he gasped, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. "We can't."

"I know," she agreed. With her hands shaking, she reached under her skirt. Leaning on the desk for balance, she roughly dragged off her skimpy mauve coloured panties. "We can't." Thank God she'd put them on over her suspenders.

The politician covered the distance between them, sliding his hand against her wet sex. "Not here," he whispered. "Too dangerous."

"Uhn!" she moaned as he pushed a broad finger into her pussy. "I know," she said through gritted teeth. "Too dangerous." 

"Ever thought of going bare," he grunted, his wrist rubbing against her thatch as he curled the finger inside her.

She half-laughed, half-moaned. "So that's what you like?" she said, bucking her body against his probing finger. 

"I like lots of things," he murmured, locking lips with her again. 

Katie kissed him hard, then turned away. She leaned across the desk, resting her hands on the top. With a sexy wiggle, she offered her skirt-covered ass to him.

Alistair flicked the garment up above her waist, resting his cock against her wet opening. "You're right, we can't fuck," he grunted.

"I know," she whimpered. Fuck, that felt good. "You can't fuck me, Alistair. Not here. Not in my office. Not hard."

She tightened her fingers around the edge of the desk as she pushed her ass back. As if laser guided, he slid home. She was able to draw a half breath before her black lover lunged forward. She thrust her ass backwards again to meet him. 

The desk shifted slightly, creaking in protest.

"No, not hard," he huffed as he roughly drove his hips forward. He wasn't going to last long if he pumped hard, but he didn't care. He wanted to hear her moans as he exploded.

"God, yes," the sexy psychiatrist moaned, resting her elbows on the desk so she could push her ass upwards. "Hard. Fuck me hard!"

She lifted up on the balls of her feet, pushing her up buttocks even higher as his balls slapped against her dark bush. The muscles in her legs screamed, growing tight with the effect of maintaining her pose.

It was a delicious ache. 

"Oh, fuck, Alistair," she grunted, feeling her orgasm close in. The speed of her impending climax signified how much she wanted him, had missed him. "Oh, ohhh fuck...!" 

Her face twisted as the orgasm shot through her. She bit her lower lip, closed her eyes, and revelled in the scorching climax. 

Brinkley-Jones paused while her body trembled, but only until the first orgasmic waves had passed. Then he was pumping again, his hips piston-like, his animal-like thrusts coming so hard she whimpered with wanton arousal as she went onto her toes. 

"Good?" he provocatively asked, pushing down on the small of her back. She found herself on the desk edge, his cock dominating her. "What if someone walks in? Sees us? Like this? My black dick inside you? Fucking your patient?"

Her head twisted to look at the door, imaging it opening. Diana there. Brian there. "Oh my God!" she mumbled, unable to catch her breath. Her head turned round further, watching him over her shoulder. His narrowed eyes returned the stare. He jammed himself harder into her.

"Oh Goddd!" she moaned, holding his stare even as her body danced to his tune. She was bent in half, the politician's captive, his to do with what he wanted. And yet it still wasn't enough for her. "C'mon," she groaned between great, heaving breaths. "Harder!"

Alistair's face tightened as he responded, his eyes drowning in desire as he drove forward. He grunted, trying to stave off the inevitable. He tried, but couldn't. His explosion was like a shot from a rifle... one, two, three bullets being released in quick succession and splattering her insides.

Katie groaned gratefully with each spurt, her body swooning in great, exaggerated ripples with each new burst. He seemed to cum forever. 

"Oh, fuck, I needed that," she murmured as the politician pulled away, quickly dragging her skirt down as she turned to face him.

Alistair took an unsteady step backwards, tucking his spent cock back into his trousers before flopping down on the corner couch. 

"Me, too," he gasped, sending her a beaming smile. "I have thought about that for the last week."

Katie laughed, trying to push her hair back into place. "Tell me about it." She paused, her eyes tenderly regarding the still heavily panting man. "But Alistair. We need to talk..."

***

Erika waved away Rebecca's objections as the waiter brought them another after lunch liqueur. The young Brazilian woman was already high on the bottle of champagne they'd consumed. It was a celebration, Erika had insisted. A second liqueur could push her over the edge. 

Pixie would be delighted with that. The South American beauty would be so much more pliable for the trained masseuse.

"Erika," Rebecca giggled. "What did you say they call it again?"

"Yellow Bird," the blonde smiled, enjoying the way the dark haired woman was attempting to memorise the ingredients. "Crème de banane, galliano, dark rum, orange and pineapple juice."

"Well, the first was delicious," Rebecca laughed, trawling her fingers through her long, raven-coloured hair. "It's just that I'm not used to..."

"Nonsense," Erika murmured, raising her glass and encouraging the young woman to do the same. They each took a sip, allowing the exotic flavour to pleasure their taste buds. "I mean, you hadn't tried frogs legs before today."

"Delicious," Rebecca told her, covering her mouth to disguise a hiccup. "And what was it... pan fried wild seabass? I've never tasted anything so delicious."

The Swedish woman reached over and traced her fingertips along the Brazilian beauty's bare forearm. "Life is all about new experiences," she smoothly told her. "I'm not much older than you, Becky, but I have so much I can share with you, help you experience. You'd like that?"

In this case, three years between was a lifetime's gap.

"Oh, yes," Rebecca instantly responded, wondering if her Scandinavian friend knew that the sensations her caressing fingertips were causing had found their way to her nipples. Deus! She was so aroused that if Erika kissed her again, she'd show her just how an uninhibited Brazilian woman could respond. 

"Wonderful," Erika went on, clinking glasses in encouragement. "Drink up. If this exercise studio is successful, the sky's the limit. You and I are going to be such good friends."

"I don't know how to thank you," Becky said, licking her lips to capture the lingering taste of the Yellow Bird liqueur. "I..."

"Hey, you don't need to thank me. That's what friends are for!"

Erika smiled sweetly at the twenty-two year old beauty. It looked like butter wouldn't melt in the young woman's mouth. With that smile, those big eyes and that voluptuous body, she was a magnificent looking young woman. No wonder Guus was so enamoured and had been so effusive in his praise. 

She felt the throb of the engine inside her. Seducing her would be even more of a delight than she'd originally anticipated. With her usual conquests, she'd have bedded them by now. This one was worth so much more than that. Becky was one to savour. For the long term...

She glanced at her watch. Damn, she'd need to hurry back to the Conservative Party Headquarters. Besides, she had Becky booked in for her treat in half an hour. 

***

"Are you sure?" Sally asked, her brow furrowing at the news.

"Reasonably," came the voice down the line. "I've had her staked out for days. Something's certainly going on."

The redhead glanced around the office. People were all around her, but busy with their own calls and duties. It was hectic in there now, and would only get worse over the next week. 

"Where is she now?" she asked.

"The Lansdell Suite at St Thomas'. Just the sort of place they'd take her," the male voice replied. "It's private, of course. She's booked in as Megan Jones. Quite ironic, don't you think?"

Sally joined in his laughter, though it wasn't really a laughing matter. If they felt things were bad now, all hell could be about to descend.

"Can you get someone in there?" she anxiously asked.

"Already done, though more by good fortune than anything else. We did a story on them a couple of months ago. Got some info from a contact on the inside. All I've had to do is wave a few more notes in front of her and I can get all the information I want. She knows what's going on."




Politics Ch. 06



"Sounds good," Sally hummed, feeling very nervous all of a sudden. "Don't forget you owe me one."

"That's why I'm calling you," the gruff voice confirmed. "I always repay my debts. You know that."

"Well, we're even after this one. But you know what I need?"

Her contact gave a soft laugh. "Yes, Sally, I know what you want. Whether that's the news I can supply is another matter. But as soon as I know, you'll know, too."

"Good. Let's hope it's soon."

There was that laugh again. "Not that I'm an expert in these things. But I believe the exact timing will be in the lap of the gods?"

***

The Health Club was one of London's finest. God knows how much it had cost Erika to book her in there. It was yet another example of how her good friend was looking after her. It was such a shame she'd had to rush away, otherwise they could have enjoyed it together. You deserve it, she'd insisted when she'd broken the news after their lunch. Just enjoy a relaxing massage and prepare yourself for tomorrow.

Erika was right, of course. There was so much to do tomorrow, with the opening of the studio arranged for the day after. She'd be busy from early morning 'til late night both days. 

Today was the opportunity to recharge her batteries.

"You okay?" the masseuse asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Rebecca turned her head to the right, smiling at the petite young woman. She couldn't be any more than eighteen, surely? And that shock of dyed pink hair? Remarkably, it seemed to suit the otherwise thin, plain girl.

"Yes, fine," Rebecca murmured. It was true. She was more than fine, actually. All that alcohol had been racing around her head since she'd left Erika, creating a wonderfully, woozy feeling of wellbeing. "I... er..."

"Pixie," the girl said, thinking her client was searching for her name.

"Yes, Pixie," Rebecca murmured. "I just might have had a little too much to drink, that's all."

The young girl laughed, digging her massaging fingers into the woman's shoulders. "Nothing better than a massage to get rid of the alcohol," she joked.

"Really?" the naïve Brazilian woman asked. The tensions that had built up with her long working hours were already beginning to vanish beneath the knowing hands.

"Of course," the pink haired girl grinned. "By the way, are you Rebecca or Becky?"

"Becky," she answered, gasping as the fingers dug in. "Call me Becky."

"Well, Becky, do you have a preference for the massage, or would you like to just hand your body over to Pixie?"

Hand her body over? That was an interesting phrase. Rebecca giggled. "It's all yours, Pixie. I have a tough couple of days ahead, so just help me get rid of any tension you can find, okay?"

"Okay by me," the pink haired teenager told her. "I'm an expert at making women feel good, so just close your eyes and go with the flow."

The way she said women seemed to be full of meaning, though Becky couldn't quite put a finger on why. What did it matter anyway? Her alcohol fuelled mind told her to do as Erika had suggested. Just enjoy a relaxing massage and prepare yourself for tomorrow.

For a while, that's exactly what she did. Until she realised that the massaging fingers were starting to unlock the sexual feelings that had been building inside her over the last week. Even her almost daily masturbation hadn't been able to settle her down. She needed a new vibrator. 

Somehow, her nipples had grown erect under Pixie's hands. The delicious, tingling sensations of arousal were circling around the fullness of her breasts. Quite how or why it had happened, she had no idea. But the little awakenings of desire were definitely beginning to percolate through her consciousness.

The probing hands slid to her stomach, smoothing, kneading the hard muscle. They moved in tandem, sometimes softly caressing their way across Rebecca's soft skin, occasionally bringing a gasp as they pushed in more firmly. 

The delectable stirrings in the Brazilian's body were moving lower and she could feel the arousal begin to flow from deep inside her. When the massage was finished, she'd have to find somewhere to relieve herself. The sensations were so strong there was no way she could wait until she returned home.

Her eyes were closed and she tightened them so that there was only darkness behind her eyelids. Pixie's hands were wonderful, so feminine. She hadn't realised there was such a difference between a man and a woman's touch. The thought brought Erika into her mind. And that kiss in the hotel bar. 

She felt a surge of dampness.

Change your thoughts, she told herself. Quickly! Thank goodness her feelings were carefully concealed from the masseuse. If Pixie knew what she was thinking, she'd be shocked.

***

"Where's Erika?" Alistair asked, rushing into the Conservative Party's Millbank Headquarters. He was late and had expected his girlfriend to be champing at the bit, waiting for him. It was unusual for them to be canvassing together, but the local constituency candidates had specifically requested her support. 

Girlfriend? He'd have to stop thinking of her that way. It was Katie who was now occupying his thoughts. She was the woman he wanted to spend time with, get to know better. Their lunchtime liaison had only confirmed that.

He'd have to bring the subject up with Erika, especially after the invitation he'd maybe too eagerly given to the chestnut haired psychiatrist. It was a conversation that was necessary, though not one he was looking forward to.

"She's on her way," Thomas told him, handing the Conservative Party leader his papers. "She called maybe ten minutes ago, he added, glancing at his watch. "She should be here any minute."

"No problem," Alistair told his Campaign Manager, bringing a quick glance from Thomas. His boss's demeanour took him by surprise, especially in view of their confrontation this morning. He appeared to be much more relaxed. Maybe he'd had a good lunch?

"I rang ahead," Thomas told him. "They know you're running quarter of an hour late. "I've briefed your driver to get make up as much time as he can."

"Okay," the black politician said, flicking through his papers. "Gerry's a good driver, he'll save us five minutes. By the way, forget about that crap earlier."

Thomas made a point of meeting the black politician's eyes. He wasn't going to make it that easy. "What crap?"

Alistair laughed. "That's it, Thomas, rub it in. I deserve it. The crap when I suggested I might be firing you. Truth is, win or lose, I couldn't do without you. Or Sally. I don't say this often enough, but thank you."

The fair-haired man's eyes widened. Alistair had apologised to him and thanked him in the same breath. Shit, it must have been a good lunch.

"Okay," the forty-year-old politician quickly continued. "Where are we this afternoon?"

"Cutting across three constituencies," Thomas answered. "Holborn and St Pancras. Then Islington South and Finsbury. Finally Hackney South and Shoreditch. It sounds worse than it is."

"I'll take your word for that," Alistair ruefully replied. 

"I thought you enjoyed pressing flesh," Thomas said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Hmmm. With all this walking, I'd stick a new pair of shoes on my expenses except it'll be all over the Daily Telegraph tomorrow," the politician joked. "And talking of the media, what's the timings for tonight?"

Thomas glanced down at the schedule he'd produced earlier. People may laugh at his carrying the clipboard around with him, but with so much going on, he needed a clear view of what was happening every hour of every day.

"Get back here for eight," he told his boss. "I'll brief you on what to expect while you eat. Then we depart for the TV studios around nine. I gather Larry Paxman is rubbing his hands together..."

Alistair shot him a sideways look. The message was clear. Don't fuck with me.

Thomas grimaced. "I didn't say it would be easy, Alistair. But this is our only chance. We're running out of time."

"I know," the black politician sighed. "I know."

***

The pink haired girl smiled. Erika had described this beauty perfectly. Said she would be a bonus for her. They both knew from the Swede's sessions with the masseuse that Pixie was a lesbian. One of the pleasures of her job was giving her blonde client an orgasm whenever she visited. And Erika had promised her that she could do the same to her new client, too.

It would be more of a seduction, the Swedish woman had warned her. Becky would give herself, she just wasn't aware that she would. But with Pixie's knowing hands, all she had to do was gradually build the pressure.

And already the teenager was aware that she'd flicked some switch. The barely perceptible purr! The slight shifting of position. This beautiful young woman was certainly reacting. Pixie knew about these things, of course. Erika wasn't the only one of her female clients that she performed 'extras' for.

She increased the pressure, making the massage more overtly sexual as the tell tale signs of arousal continued to flow from the prone beauty. She had flawless, sexy, tawny skin. A cut above her normal client. Mmmm, she was several cuts above her normal client. This woman's stunning body was on a par with Erika's. Different in their own ways, but both were heavenly.

Voluptuous! That was the word! If only she had a body like that...

Normally she had to be careful with a new client. She couldn't afford to misread the signs. It would cost her job. With Becky, there was still some concern. Handle her with care, Erika had said. That meant this was all still deliciously dangerous. But that was the best way, right?

"How does that feel, Becky?" she asked, reaching for more oil.

"Wonderful," the Brazilian woman murmured, keeping her eyes closed but breathing more deeply.

"That's good," the pink haired young woman purred, pouring the oil across her palms and then reaching for those mind boggling breasts. What she'd give for tits like that. They were every bit as full and firm as Erika's.

She felt Rebecca's body squirm as she cupped her swells, those magnificent swells. But the beauty made no objection. Only the sound of her breathing increased. Pixie could see her chest moving with the pounding of her heart. The teenager spread her fingers across Becky's jutting breasts, making sure she brushed against the rock hard nipples. 

Fuck, this woman was everything Erika had intimated.

Moving her gaze away from the voluptuous breasts, Pixie saw that the beautiful woman looking at her and knew what she was thinking. Not the specific thoughts. But she was aware they were centred on sex, on her fantasies, on the need for sexual gratification. 

Nor was it simply the look in Becky's eyes that gave the game away.

The pink haired woman was monitoring her captive's responses through her sensitive fingertips. The Brazilian woman enjoyed having her tits manipulated. Cassie did too, she reacted in exactly the same way. In fact, Pixie's girlfriend could cum from having her lover's oily hands working on her breasts.

Maybe this beauty could too?

She had no doubt about the eventual outcome. Not a single woman had yet been able to withstand her ministrations. Only something outrageous would stop the inevitable from happening, something that would break the spell she'd been weaving. But Pixie had no intention of scaring this rare bird away.

She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her white coat, letting the aroused woman see the obvious action. "Hot in here, Becky," she smiled. Leaning forward over the voluptuous body, she allowed the Brazilian beauty to watch her tits fall forward through the opening. 

Small but perky, only her lacy black bra contained them. 

She smoothed her fingers over the delightfully full breasts and rubbed the thrusting nipples. Becky let out a groan. She sent her fingers up into the woman's armpits, leaning further forward so that her client could feel her soft breath on her cheek. Pulling back slightly, she held the position, allowing the beauty to see the cleavage falling from her black bra.

It took a huge surge of effort to stop herself from dipping her head down and sucking on those dark, hard nipples. Cassie would benefit—her girlfriend always did after sessions such as this. The thought of her lover fucking her with the strap on sent Pixie's temperature soaring.

She could feel Becky's thumping heart, could see her chest rising and falling. She knew she should take this slowly, but couldn't stop herself. Her hands cupped the ripe, eager, oil covered breasts, sliding upwards to the hard nipples. She took each one between thumb and forefinger and squeezed.

***

"You've seen Katie," Erika murmured as their car closed in on its destination. This part of Holborn was such a dump. The way Alistair blushed at her out of the blue comment confirmed her suspicions. "At lunch time," she added.

He turned towards her from his seat in the back of the Bentley, a shocked look on his face. "How... how did you know?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "Alistair, I can read you like a book. That's why you shouldn't keep anything from me. I can always tell. Besides, I'm pleased for the two of you."

It was as if she'd shaken him. His eyes widened and his breath caught. "You're pleased for me?"

"Of course," she lied. "Look, I've seen the signs between us for a while. Maybe it'll work. Maybe it won't. To be truthful, I kind of feel that way, too. Perhaps you need to explore your relationship with this woman. See if it works for you. If not, you may feel differently about us. It will give us some breathing space, but without either of us feeling any pressure. Don't you think?"

Alistair sighed. It was a deep sigh of relief. He hadn't expected Erika to be so... so understanding. The Swedish woman constantly surprised him. "I... I don't know what to say..."

"Then say nothing," she said, smiling sweetly. Wasn't it amazing how easy it was to fool men? Especially powerful men. It never failed to amaze her. "I can see from your change in demeanour that you've seen her at lunchtime," she continued. "You were like a bear with a sore head this morning. Have been for several days."

His face creased into a smile. "Well..."

"In fact," she interrupted, leaning close enough to him so that he could smell her perfume. "If I'm not mistaken, you fucked her, too."

Bingo! The look in his eyes confirmed her prognosis. So... the bastard was off fucking this bitch when he could be fucking her? Well, two could play at that game. She'd call Guus Kessen again later. It was time to press that particular button and tonight was as good a time as any.

"That's okay," she lied, as he struggled to reply. She turned up the smile, disguising the daggers she had ready to aim at his heart. "It's just a shame you can only catch fleeted moments with her. You two need to spend some time together."

His eyes flickered again. God, he was so transparent!

"What?" she asked, moving away from him and sitting straighter. If she stayed close to him, she'd dig her sharp fingernails into his stupid face.

"I... er... suggested that Katie should come to Scotland with me. I mean... I know there's not much free time, but it'll give us a chance to get to know each other.

You bastard, she thought. "What a good idea," she said.

"You think?"

"Of course," she muttered through gritted teeth, keeping her smile in place. "In fact, it's a great idea. I'd like to meet her."

His head jerked back, as if she'd slapped him. "Meet her?"

"Of course," she smiled, a plan already forming in her mind. "She's bound to see me there anyway, isn't she? But I'd really like to chat to her. Make her feel comfortable. Tell her what a great guy you are."

"Erika..." he began, doubt clouding his mind.

"Seriously, Alistair," she said, reaching over and patting him on the knee. The Bentley eased to a halt. "Look, we're here now," she said. "But this is what I'm going to do. I'll check our Scotland itinerary and see if I can create you some spare time. You know I only want what's best for you..."

***

Becky felt her arousal building, but had no idea that she was being manipulated towards it. Her naïve mind told her it was purely as a result of the alcohol, the constant high she was on at the thought of opening her own studio, and of course, the sexual starvation she'd suffered for the last week.

The innocent hands on her tits were simply the instruments she was using to allow her mind to give full reign to the wicked thoughts running through her.

Her fantasies began to take over. She was with Guus Kessen again, only this time after sucking his cock, she was allowing the large Dutchman to fuck her. He had to persuade her, of course. Threaten to withdraw the finance he was providing. But that only made the fantasy more enjoyable. Spreading her legs, giving in, allowing the millionaire to do with her what he wanted.

Then there was Erika. Kissing her. Only this time, she was kissing back, showing her blonde friend how passionate Brazilian women were. Not only were they kissing, they were stroking one another's breasts, too, just the way Pixie was attending to hers. Caressing, stroking, pulling, kneading.

She opened her eyes to watch the eighteen year-old. She was quite plain really, but that splurge of pink hair, and the burning look in her black eyes, gave her an appealing quality. So did the way she was mashing her breasts. Becky shocked herself by wondering that if the young girl could evoke such a response with her hands, what could she do with her tongue?

Her body jumped at the thought. 

She was so cute in that short, white coat, too. It felt so liberating to think she'd allowed the young woman's hands the freedom of her body. But she hadn't expected her to evoke such feelings. The way she was looking back at her as she manipulated her breasts... it was almost as if she was deliberately caressing her, rather than simply providing an everyday masseuse service.

It was all becoming too much...

She grunted out loud, her legs spreading under the white towel spread across her hips. Her buttocks rose from the massage table. What was this girl doing to her? Surely this wasn't normal for a massage? Had she given herself away? Did the teenager realise just how much her body was burning? 

Her chest tightened. She began to panic. Her orgasm was starting to bubble. She couldn't allow this. Could she? What if Erika found out? 

When Pixie's hands left her, she moaned her objection, wondering if she dare ask the girl to continue. But even as her mind fought with itself, they were back, sneaking under the small white towel that covered her modesty. The hands traced lazy patterns of the sweet smelling oil on her thighs. 

The hands and fingers covered the outside of her flesh at first, before tantalisingly edging inwards, digging firmly into her muscles.

Becky raised her firm buttocks a little with each stroke. Her whole body began to rock with anticipation. Pixie's fingers milked her arousal, edging towards her quivering sex and then, just as she raised her hips, backed off.

Pixie's eyes fixed on hers. She smiled. The forward momentum of her fingers almost over strayed the acceptable mark, pushing to the very edge of those deliciously wet pink lips. Becky's head rose from the table. Her hands gripped the white towel and shamelessly dragged it away. She needed to watch.

Don't stop, her mind screamed. Don't stop!

Becky knew her actions had given away her need, but she no longer cared. It was evident enough anyway. Displayed in her wide eyes, with every lift of her ass, every tremble of her thighs. When Pixie leaned in, shooting her fingertips to the very edge of Becky's labia, she raised her buttocks even higher. 




Politics Ch. 07



Chapter 7: The race resumes

The excitement in the afternoon air crackled like electricity. Erika nudged her raven-haired friend. "What do you think?" 

Becky glanced at the blonde. What did she think? Other than not having seen much of Thomas lately, she thought that life was pretty much perfect. And she had Erika to thank. 

It was the blonde who'd found the gym. She'd negotiated the purchase on Becky's behalf. They'd got it at a rock bottom price due to the Polish owner going bankrupt. It was perfect for Becky's needs, with very little work required other than a complete repainting, some cosmetic changes to the layout, and the purchase of some state of the art gym equipment.

Even the idea to combine an aerobics studio with a gym had been Erika's brainwave. So was the girl the blonde had recommended as Manager for the gym side. And as Lucille was working for a small percentage of the gym profits, she wasn't costing Rebecca a single penny.

The formal opening was scheduled for next Monday. The rest of the gym equipment would arrive by then. But the 'staged' opening today provided the media and the BBC TV London News Channel with a sneak preview of what was on offer. And it was superb publicity for the new studio. 

Again, thanks to Erika's contacts.

Inside the studio, Rebecca's regulars were scattered across the wooden workout floor, grateful for the invitation and delighted for their chance to be seen on television. Just about every single one of them had pledged to follow her to her new base and today provided concrete evidence of their commitment. 

In keeping with the occasion, the variety of gym wear usually on show had been replaced with new, sexy, leotards specially purchased for their TV appearance. Even the scruffiest of her clientele had made an extra effort today. It bode well for the future!

"It's so exciting," the Brazilian woman answered, crossing her arms over her chest as if hugging herself in congratulation. Her eyes focused on the large sign hanging so impressively over the entrance lobby. 

Becky's. 

It was simple. It was perfect!

***

Two o'clock wasn't the best time to force a sandwich down his throat, but it was Alistair's first chance to eat since his arrival this morning. His six thirty start had been even earlier than usual. 

The morning of press interviews had gone well. Putting a different spin on the same points over and over again was a skill all good politicians had. Alistair was just a little better at it than others. He'd made sure he seemed sympathetic to Mary O'Leary accusations, despite the constant attempts to provoke a more severe reaction. 

The bottom line was that he was back in the race and now, his thoughts were focused on Glasgow. 

Once he'd completed a couple of television interviews, he'd meet Katie for their early evening flight. It was a relief that Erika was catching a later flight. The last thing he wanted was for her to make uncomfortable Katie by bombarding with questions. Though his ex-girlfriend really was being exceptionally understanding about all this. Hell, she'd even booked a suite for him and Katie!! 

Hmmm, something didn't feel quite right, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Nor did he have time to think about it.

He'd just put the phone down following his call to Brian Sterling. The conversation had been surprisingly tense. It seemed clear that Sterling didn't approve of him taking Katie away to Glasgow, no matter how much he tried to justify what he was doing. 

Still, that conversation was behind him now. He'd thanked Brian for all his support, and now he could move forward.

Thomas's suggestion that they 'blow' the whole million that Guus Kessen was donating on television ads made a lot of sense. Okay, the money hadn't arrived yet, but he'd asked Thomas to chase the multi-millionaire immediately after the Election.

They'd flood the television stations with ads over the next two days. Newspapers, too. On the back of withdrawal of the Mary O'Leary accusations, the carefully focused ads would help attract as many of the 'undecideds' as they could.

"You'll get indigestion, eating that quickly," Sally told him with a smile, breaking his thoughts as she bustled into his office.

The black politician nodded, wiping his mouth with a paper serviette. "True, but right now I don't care," he told her, with a huge grin. "Got any chocolate?"

The redhead laughed. "Alistair, do you think any girl's going to be willing to share her chocolate? I do love you, but not that much!"

He smiled back. "I've just been through these ads," he said, nodding at the papers on his desk. 'It's a great idea to back up the TV commercials with newspaper ads. Especially those."

Sally grinned. "You like?"

He didn't just like. He loved! The 'attack' on Labour seemed like anything but, and clearly got the message over that there was only one party to be trusted. But it was his positioning that hit the spot. It was sublime, making him appear to have the same presence, wisdom and charisma of an early-elected Tony Blair, or dare one say a Barrack Obama. They'd pulled out all the stops!

"Perfect. Almost." He gave another one of those smiles, his white teeth gleaming. "I've marked a couple of changes, otherwise let's get going with them. Every second counts."

That was it, decision made. Guus Kessen had donated a million. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

***

Deborah Barr had led the way, the tall brunette one of the most recognisable TV presenters in the City. The mobile television crew had been half an hour late, but at least they were here now. The slim presenter had been all business from the moment they'd arrived. She'd ensured her people had set themselves up properly, and briefed Becky on what was required from the interview.

"The leotard-clad women will provide the perfect background," she murmured as she ushered everyone into position. "The cameras will devour those bodies. If the male viewers enjoy this sight as much as the newspaper hacks here, we may have the highest viewing figures for some time. There tongues are hanging out!"

Rebecca laughed. It was true. Just about every male newspaper reporter had made a point of picking out a couple of women to obtain a few quotes and, in a couple of instances, telephone numbers also.

"Want to make a deal?" Deborah asked.

"A deal?" 

"Mmm-hmm. You give me free membership for a year, and I'll make sure you get prime position in the programme tonight. I'll also tell viewers that I've joined. That'll get the men and women of London clamouring to sign up. They love their TV personalities."

The surprised Brazilian woman instantly took the proffered hand. "It's a deal," Becky said, meeting broad smile with broad smile.

"Okay, tell me again where everything is going," Deborah murmured, grinning in satisfaction with their arrangement. She glanced around. "It certainly looks fantastic."

It did, too! Rebecca's eyes took in the pristine looking polished wood aerobics floor, not yet scuffed by the soon-to-be assault of hundreds of pounding trainers. 

"Okay, we have something of everything here already," she enthusiastically explained, pointing at the small amount of bicep and triceps machines, rowing machines, bicycles and weights on the far side. "But we'll have quadrupled the numbers by the time we open on Monday. They'll all occupy their own space in strict scientific order. That means we'll cater in turn for each of the body's muscle groups."

"Sounds good," Deborah smiled, nodding at the cameraman. They were about to roll. "Talk me through it on camera."

Rebecca did, soon recovering from her early nervousness to cover just about everything Erika had coached her. Deborah nodded encouragingly with each point, providing the new Brazilian owner with the confidence to emphasise key areas.

"One of the differences between my studio and others is that its part gym, part aerobics. And the Nautilus machines are wonderful. Anyone can complete a quick circuit inside half an hour. It's ideal for a lunch break, or early evening. And you only need to use it three times a week."

"And your aerobics?" Deborah prompted, smiling into the camera. "I'm told that you're the best instructor in London. Is that really true?" 

"I don't know," Becky coyly smiled. "I love my work, and I love my clients. I like to think that we make a good team together. To begin with, I'll spend personal time with anyone who joins. Then we'll soon have them feeling part of the team."

"Sounds good," grinned Deborah, holding an off camera hand up to indicate she was wrapping up the broadcast. "So there you have it," she smiled into the lens. "A new state of the art gym and aerobics studio. Would you like a figure like this?"

Becky felt herself blushing as the camera flicked across her body.

"Remember the name. Becky's! It's the newest studio in London and from what I can tell... it's the best! Want to finish by saying anything else, Becky?"

The Brazilian woman picked up on the cue, smiling into the camera. Deborah had already briefed her on the final question and even given her a pat answer. "Exercising like this changed my life," she said. "If you want to change yours, get in touch!"

***

Katie Nichols paused in her packing. From what Alistair had told her, he'd be pretty busy in Glasgow and therefore she'd have some free time. Hence the papers she was clearing from her desk and resting on top of her briefcase. She'd long ago learnt to take every opportunity when studying patient's cases.

But it wasn't the free time that was on her mind. Alistair had told her they'd be spending every spare minute he could eke together. Getting to know one another. And fucking, of course! That was the bit that worried her.

Not the act itself. Right now, she sprawl him across her desk if he was here and fuck his lights out. The thought of that black cock inside her had her drooling. But curiously enough, that's where her worries started. She'd done a lot of thinking since they'd fucked in her office. Maybe too much?

What she realised was that, as much as she lusted after the black Conservative Party leader, she wanted—needed—much more than that. If it was just sex, then she could satisfy herself by finding a stranger somewhere. Or maybe, pay Eduardo another visit? That had been hot.

She was the more conservative one, with all this inner passion. And that description fit Alistair to a tee, until Erika had entered his life. In her position as a psychiatrist, she was supposed to help him, restore the confused man to his former self. Yet her worst fear was that it was working the other way around. That he was having more of an influence on her! 

He'd said he was addicted to sex! Is that what this was—part of his addiction? Was she being drawn into his games? Or was he genuinely interested in her as a person. If not, she could be on a path to self-destruction. 

Whatever else, Glasgow would provide the answer. Or it would give all the signs that she'd need to work it out for herself. 

She wanted a relationship, not a fuckbuddy—especially one who simply saw her as the next on his long list of woman. He'd made some pretty damming statements about Erika, and how she was the one to blame for all this. Corrupting him. Well, it remained a possibility that he was corrupting her. Opening the dark side that she kept hidden.

She'd soon find out.

"You'll have to get moving." Brian Sterling's voiced made her jump.

She looked up, surprised to see him in the door to her office. Hadn't he been due for a Board meeting today? She smiled at him as she held up a couple of files before stuffing them in her briefcase. "Homework for when I'm away," she told him with a mischievous grin. "Don't worry, Brian, even when I'm taking a couple of days holiday, I have the firm's best interests at heart."

"You're going away to work?"

"No," she empathically said. "You know that, Brian. But I have two early appointments as soon as I return and I'll be fully prepared for them."

The Senior Partner smiled. It was a rueful smile. "Your commitment isn't in doubt, Katie," he told her. "Nor is your judgement. At least, I've never known it to be. Maybe until now?"

Straightening up, she turned to face the Scot, crossing her arms over her chest. She'd been expecting this ever since she'd told him. He hadn't exactly been enthusiastic about her plans. But then, she was fully aware of what his reaction would be. Still, this was her life! One eyebrow arched. "Meaning?"

He smoothed a hand through his thin, grey hair. Clearly, this wasn't the easiest conversation for him, either. "Meaning I wonder whether I made a mistake in introducing the two of you. In passing Alistair to you as a client?"

"He was never really a client, Brian, was he?" Katie asked, holding his gaze. "He was simply someone who needed some help, someone to talk to."

"And that conversation has led you to going away with him?" the Scot asked, though it was a rhetorical question.

"You object?"

"He's in a relationship."

"No, Brian, he isn't," Katie insisted. "He was in a relationship."

"Until he met you."

The sexy psychiatrist sighed and sat back on the edge of her desk, quickly smoothing her skirt over her thighs. She wasn't in the mood to flirt. What the hell! She didn't need this, and especially not right now. 

"The relationship was on its last legs," she told him, wishing she didn't have to explain. She swung away and pulled the final pieces of her packing together, wondering why she was attempting to justify herself. "And anyway, his girlfriend... ex-girlfriend," damn, there was a Freudian slip if ever there was one, "is happy with me going. She wants to get to know me."

"Get to know you?"

Katie ignored the irony in his voice. "Exactly. When you talk to Alistair—"

"I have."

His words stopped her in her tracks. Katie paused, biting down on her lower lip as she picked up her briefcase and closed the zip on her other bag. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking about that conversation.

"Ready to go?" he asked, those disapproving eyes boring into hers.

Damn. Despite herself she couldn't resist. "Yes. What did Alistair say?"

"Much the same as you," he told her. 

"Well then," she snorted, as if those two words covered everything.

"Well then?" he repeated. "Look, Katie, you know I have your best interests as heart. But if you ask me, appearing in public is quite a first step."

"After the interests of the firm," she snapped, her normally calm eyes blazing. She wasn't stupid. The look in his eyes told her she was sailing close to the mark. Blushing, she retreated. "Anyway, we're not appearing in public."

The Scot shrugged his shoulders and stepped to one side. The conversation was over. It was an invitation for her to leave. "I hope you two know exactly what you are doing," he calmly said, as she walked past him without a backward look.

***

"What do you think?" Sally asked Thomas, shuffling in her seat so that she sat facing him as their taxi raced them to the airport. 

Normally, they would have travelled with Erika and Alistair. But with the Scandinavian woman flying later tonight, and their boss heading across London to meet this Katie woman, it was just the two of them.

"About what?" he asked, coughing slightly as their knees made contact. She made no attempt to adjust her skirt and the clear view of her stocking tops made his cock twitch.

"You nervous?" she murmured, smiling into his anxious eyes. 

"You always make me nervous," he told her, with a wry grin. "It's what you're good at."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a laugh, sexily sliding a hand through her coppery bob. "Sex on your mind?"

His deep sigh may have answered for him. Sex was always on his mind. But only because he knew it was on the redhead's. Her constant references were in his psyche now. When they had a private moment, he'd have to tell her how uncomfortable her teasing was making him.

"Anyway, tell me," she murmured, leaning her head back against the plush interior wall. "What do you think?"

"About what?" he asked again.

She laughed that little girl laugh of hers. "What do you think? About Katie Nichols, of course." 

"Who? Oh, yes. I... I don't know..."

"I do," she answered, running a hand across his knee. "I have it all worked out."

He shifted slightly in his seat. Each touch made him grow another inch.

"And what's your conclusion?" he asked, partly out of interest but also to keep his mind away from any other thoughts...

The way her driver shifted his head warned her they might be overheard. She lowered her voice. It was well known—or should that be rumoured—that the chauffeurs in both parties knew more about what was going on than anyone else. All through listening in on conversations such as these.

"Okay, think of this," she whispered, pushing closed the glass divider between front and back to give more privacy. "Why do you think there's been so much tension between Alistair and Erika?" Her fingertips teasingly dug in through his trousers. "Why do you think Alistair has been so grumpy? Why do you think he made up the story about Brian Sterling and a donation?"

"Made up?"

"Fuck, Thomas," she laughed, sliding her hand up his thigh. "For someone so bright, you can be incredibly obtuse. Let me explain. The tension between them has partly been because of the election, I'll give you that. And this Mary—fucking—O'Leary woman's accusation, of course. But it started before that. He's been caught shagging this woman."

"Mary O'L—"

"No stupid," she impatiently spat, her eyes rolling into the top of her head. "Katie Nichols! Erika's caught the two of them at it!"

Thomas blinked as his brain computed the information. Women were so much better at this sort of thing than men. "That's why Erika cornered me?" he quizzically asked. "To get revenge?"

"Cornered you?" Sally asked, bursting out into laughter. She lowered her voice again when she caught the chauffeur's glance in the driving mirror. "Is that what they call it? I doubt it. That's the way she's made. What she wants, she gets."

Thomas caught and held her hand on his thigh. The movement of her fingers was getting just a little too personal. Hell, he was already getting hard.

Sally laughed at his discomfort, but pulled her hand away. Erika wasn't the only woman who got what she wanted. And the petite redhead wanted this intelligent yet often naïve Campaign Manager. She'd have him, too, but no need to scare him off right now.

"But let me tell you something strange about Erika and Alistair," she continued, drawing him into her theory. "Women like her don't forgive easily. He's been caught out and yet have you seen how sweet she is with him? Something's up, believe me."

"Like what?"

She leant forward again, allowing his eyes to dip into her small cleavage. "I don't know. Haven't worked that out yet. But let's both keep an eye on what's happening and compare notes. Okay?"

***

Erika had told Becky to call out to her house around seven. That would give her an opportunity to take care of a few items, pack, and still allow a couple of hours with the young Brazilian woman before her airport car arrived. 

"A chance for us to relax after a wonderful day", the Swedish woman had told her.

She cursed herself for not having arranged to fly to Glasgow in the morning. That would have given her the night to seduce Becky. But it was too important not to reach Glasgow on time. Morning fog would play havoc with her intention to take care of Alistair's slut. Besides, Guus hadn't been available this evening. And the Dutchman was an integral part of her plan...

Instead, she'd use their time together tonight to sow the seeds. Take things between them one step further than she'd done so far. And when she returned from Scotland in two days—well, the woman would be hers...




Politics Ch. 07



What time was it? Nearly seven. She'd had enough time in the sauna. She was sweating buckets. Besides, Becky would be on her way. She wanted to be naked in the hot tub when the Brazilian beauty arrived.

The others would be in Glasgow now. Thomas, Sally—and Alistair with his woman. Allowing them to spend the night together went against the grain. She should have been sharing that room with Alistair, not the psychiatrist. But it was an essential part of her strategy. 

Lull them into a false sense of security! 

When she was finished with them, her ex-boyfriend would need a psychiatrist all right. Just not that one!

It surprised her how quickly she'd come to terms with Alistair's betrayal. Only a few, short weeks ago, she was thinking that Erika Brinkley-Jones had a nice ring to it. Wife to the first black Prime Minister, to the man who would eventually inherit millions! That was when she'd thought he was a strong man.

Not only had he shown his true colours, he'd been disloyal, too. The long sigh she gave as she left the sauna allowed her to calm herself. Her time with Becky tonight was too important to be ruined by allowing her anger to build.

Shit! She really should have arranged to fly tomorrow morning. She was so horny that right now she could devour the raven-haired beauty!! And the hot Brazilian was up for it, too, she could sense that. Pixie had softened her up nicely, just as she'd anticipated. And the way Becky had looked at that Deborah!

She'd have to contain herself tonight, but then, waiting only made it sweeter. Have a little fun with Becky this evening, and then use Alistair's slut as her appetiser tomorrow. 

The main course would be waiting when she returned back to London.

***

Katie loved the large, round bathtub. It was a relief to sink into it. How many men had descended on Alistair as soon as they'd arrived? All party activists, she believed, whatever the hell a party activist was. But from the way they fawned around him, as if he was some sort of God, she'd instantly known that wasn't her scene. No, she was better off in their suite, luxuriating in the bath.

His subsequent call to say he'd miss part of dinner brought her doubts back to the surface. Yes, he'd said she'd spend time on her own. But they'd only been there a couple of hours and she had thought they'd be together for a while before he was dragged off on his official duty. 

He'd better make sure he arrived before they were finished their meal. Then she'd drag him back to their suite before he had time to blink. Didn't he know how much she needed his black cock inside her?

She took a quiet sip from the glass of white wine she'd poured, laughing as she transferred a bit of foam from her arms and wrists to the cool crystal. Wasn't that just so luxuriously decadent? She tipped her head back, soaking her chestnut coloured hair in the foamy bath water and smoothing it wetly over her scalp as she sat up. She laid her head against the curved end of the tub and slid her left hand across her slippery skin. The bath oils soothed her after the long trip, and made her skin feel even softer.

She closed her eyes as her hand cupped a large, pale breast and thumbed the erect nipple. Slipping her right hand into the water, she released a sumptuous sigh. Her fingers slithered into her dark curls, seeking her aroused button.

Ever thought of going bare? Her lover's question returned to her, sending a shiver across her body despite the warmth of the water enveloping her. She had, but never seriously. That wasn't something girls like her did. She was a professional woman, and in her mind, professional women didn't shave down there.

She lifted one slender leg from the bath and allowed it to curl over the side of the tub. The water trickled from her pale skin, tracing its way along her inner thigh and dripping back into the bubble filled tub. 

As she strummed her clit, she began to wonder. Could she? Should she? She'd always felt the soft hairs between her legs when she touched herself like this. She'd become used to the shadow it created through her skimpy lingerie.

But Alistair wanted it, and now, suddenly, she did, too.

Reaching to her left, she picked up her little pink razor and the bottle of body wash from the edge of the bath. Her heart tingled. "I'm just going to shave my legs," she said breathlessly, to no one but herself. Tipping some of the soapy liquid into the palm of her hand, she spread the lather along her shapely leg and went to work. She was delaying her decision, she knew, but that didn't stop her to luxuriate in the feeling the large bath gave her. 

Like a princess.

Switching legs, she thought of her black lover. His thick cock. Put away the doubts, for now anyway. Just go with the flow. Imagine his face when he saw her if she did this... For him... 

The bubbles had melted away, leaving behind nothing but soapy islands that floated in the murky water. She bit her lip as she pushed her hips forward. Her pubic mound rose above the bubble filled water, dark and full. She pinched it, felt it one last time. Her womanhood. Her sexual innocence.

But you're not a good girl anymore, Katie, the devil inside of her taunted. You fucked another woman's man in a public restaurant, and then did it again in your office. You fucked a patient! 

She worked a soapy lather into her thatch. The feeling of wickedness overwhelmed her. Time to say goodbye to that good girl!!!

She went to work, her heart aflutter. Was she really doing this? Why was she taking such delight in something so wicked? Her breath came in short, sharp pants. With every glide of her razor, things got fuzzier and her arousal heightened and deepened. She went through two razor heads, swiping the pink thing across her mound in short, thorough strokes like she'd been doing this for years. She didn't stop until it was all gone.

Carefully, sensually, she finished her task. When she was done, her heart was beating so fast she felt like she'd just finished a five-mile run.

She ran her fingers ran across her smoothness, amazed that skin could be so soft. If she knew how good it would feel to go bare, she'd have converted years ago! She found her clit so easily, sitting swollen and exposed like a sail-less boat in the eye of a hurricane.

"No," she said firmly. Not here.

She hauled herself out of the bath, stopping only to drain the unfinished wine in her glass. Hurrying into the bedroom, she slowly approached the long mirror. She felt nervous. Giddy. Like opening a letter that she knew contained good news. Hesitantly, she looked at her reflection.

God, she looked as sexy as she felt!!!

She had a clear view of her tight-lipped puffy labia, which broke around her fully engorged clitoris. She slicked her dark hair back, cocked her hip to the left, and held the pose. Her full tits were high and round, tapering into her narrow waist that flared back to her womanly hips. Nothing marred her creamy white skin. Her flat stomach now met her swollen pussy lips in a sinful union of smooth flesh.

Reaching for the tub of coconut scented body butter, she smiled at her little triumph as she opened it and covered her smooth mound. The sensation was too much! 

It was impossible to resist the desire to touch herself and her fingers turned from a soft rub to a sensuous caress. It felt like being touched by a stranger. And she so loved a stranger's touch. Her breath quickened again. There wasn't time, but it made no difference. 

She watched as the wicked woman in the mirror slipped a finger inside her. A second to join the first. The feeling of her palm against her newly shaved flesh nearly set her off. Instantly, her eyes narrowed into little pinpricks. Her orgasm began to swell up. It felt so much better, more arousing, much sexier, being shaved! 

Reluctantly, she pulled her fingers away at the last minute. She was going to cum tonight, and cum hard! But it would be her new lover she allowed to take her to orgasm, not her fingers...

***

The Malmaison's boutique style hotel was more upmarket and affluent than Thomas had previously experienced. But it wasn't the quality of his surroundings that was on his mind. It was the knock on his door. Surely it wasn't time for dinner with Alistair, Katie and Sally already? 

He'd planned on a shower first. And a quick call to Becky. He was lonely and horny. If only his girlfriend had been there with him. She'd have loved this hotel. And they'd have stayed locked in their room for twenty-four hours! At least!!

His cock jumped at the sight of the mischievous redhead at his door. God, there was that mischievous glint in her eyes again. The one that meant trouble. 

"Hey, it's my hero," she joked, sexily sauntering past him. "I've just spoken to Katie. What d'you think of her, by the way?"

For a moment Thomas didn't speak. Dressed in just a skirt so short it hardly covered her ass, and a sparkly top that left half her waist bare, the diminutive redhead looked as sexy as he'd ever seen her.

She turned and caught his eyes on her ass. "Hey—you checking me out?" she asked with an exaggeratedly sexy flutter of her eyelashes.

"No," he mumbled, his eyes anywhere but meeting the redhead's steady gaze. "Not at all. Look, I was just about to have a shower..."

"Go ahead," she grinned, her eyes dancing with excitement when she saw the bottle of red on the round table beside the window. "Hey, is this complimentary?"

"No—" he began, but she was already tearing the covering from the screw top.

"You'll just have to stick it on expenses," she joked. "That's what MP's do, after all." With a shrill laugh at her own joke, she filled the two glasses on the table beside the bottle and walked across to hand one to him.

He reluctantly took it. "Sally—"

"You can call me Sal tonight," she mischievously told him, clinking his glass before turning around and heading for the small couch. "That's what—"

"I know, I know," he hastily said, taking a quick drink. He didn't want to cover that subject again. Particularly when he was this horny.

With a delicious giggle, she flopped down on the couch and spread one arm along the back. "Cheers," she murmured. "Mmm, not bad."

Thomas gave a sigh and then took another sip. It was better to go with her when she was in this mood. At least the multi coloured top wasn't showing any cleavage, but he was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra.

"I was going to call Becky," he said, hoping she might take the hint.

"Just a quick glass together," she smiled, slurping down half the contents. "Alistair called me and said he wouldn't be here for dinner. He's told Katie, and from what I can gather the news went down like a lead balloon. Anyway, he wants us to look after her."

"Look after her."

"Mmm-hmm. I called her and said I'd collect her from her room in half an hour."

Thomas glanced at his watch. He might have time to call Becky after his shower. Otherwise, it would have to wait until they'd finished dinner.

"So," Sally continued, draining the rest of her drink and jumping to her feet. She poured herself another and then waved the bottle at Thomas.

He shook his head. "I don't drink much—"

Her soft laugh made him wince.

"You don't drink much? I already know that, Thomas, but for God's sake, loosen up," she told him, with a rueful look. "Take a night off. How many of those have we had? Look, one more glass and I'll leave you to your shower."

It seemed like a good deal. He half-heartedly finished half his drink then held it out for her to top up. The sexy redhead shook her head, indicating he should finish the contents of his glass.

"Wasn't difficult, was it?" she sarcastically said, shooting him that childlike grin when he complied. Returning to the couch, she flamboyantly crossed her legs, shooting him a wide expanse of naked thigh. "We'll make a man out of you yet. So, you haven't told me. What d'you think of Alistair's new woman?"

"She seems nice enough," he non-committally told her, shrugging his shoulders. Why did woman always want your opinion on other women? "Good sense of humour. And very confident."

"She's certainly that," the redhead replied, pursing her lips. "But you can't help liking her. I have the feeling she thought she and Alistair would be spending some romantic time together."

Thomas ruefully laughed. He could feel the wine going to his head, but somehow it was creating a nice, warm feeling in his body. "Not much chance of that with everything he has on."

"Maybe you can tell her that at dinner," she joked, glancing at her watch. "Which is now twenty minutes away." Jumping to her feet, she finished the rest of her drink as if devouring water. "So... you'd better get moving. There's still some wine left in the bottle so don't dare finish it. We'll have it after dinner."

The sexy redhead sashayed to the door, knowing his eyes were on her body again. "I'm off to collect Katie," she said, flashing a knowing grin over her shoulder. "See you in the bar. Don't be long."

He watched the sexy whirlwind depart and then glanced at the mostly drunk bottle of wine. Finish it after dinner? Yeah, right! He wondered how Jeremy coped with having such a tease for a wife.

***

Erika Johansson was feeling relaxed. Very relaxed. Her indoor sauna had cleansed her pores and sucked the tension from her tired muscles. The impromptu aerobics class that the regulars had insisted on once the TV cameras had departed had been harder than she'd expected. That girl was certainly fit. 

And hot, too. 

She could see that many of the class were in awe of Becky—and the routine. A number had been eyeing the Brazilian woman's body, too. On the sidelines, it had been impossible for Erika not to see the sexual tension present. 

But that voluptuous body was promised to her. 

The raven-haired beauty didn't realise that yet, but soon would. Or... actually... her subconscious probably did realise, but hadn't formally conveyed that knowledge to her brain yet. Their planned liaison tonight would change that. It didn't matter that Becky had called to say she was running late. 

There was still enough time. 

She'd be there soon enough. Once she'd completed the telephone interview. The London Standard's interest following the TV news broadcast was simply too good to ignore. The combined aerobics studio and gym was going to be a huge success. Rebecca was in her debt. And she'd be calling in that marker shortly.

The warm Jacuzzi was rounding off the sauna process. Soothing jets of water played firmly over the sexy woman, massaging her flesh. Only the sound of the gentle rush of water disturbed the silence, allowing the Swedish beauty to luxuriate in her thoughts. Thoughts that centred on the young Brazilian woman!

She'd be impressed when she arrived, of course. Affluence always impressed the young women she and Alistair allowed to stay overnight after a night of fucking. Unless you were a Lady Olivia Hershey, of course! But they were rare.

A morning sauna and Jacuzzi seemed to reinvigorate all three of them and set up the final session before they allowed their conquest to leave. Occasionally, when Alistair departed for an early morning meeting, Erika would allow the young beauty to pleasure her. Take her time. Teach them what she enjoyed best. It was a final act of submission before the prey was allowed to depart.

That lifestyle would continue, albeit without Alistair. 

She'd soon have Guus in her spell, and he'd be the one to benefit from her 'hunting' talents. She'd use Becky to help ensnare him, but then had different plans for the Brazilian. She had some wealthy female contacts as well as men. Some of whom who would find the thoughts of making love to a woman just as attractive as with a man. Especially a woman with a body as hot as the brunette!

With Becky's delayed arrival, she had an hour before her airport car arrived. That was long enough for a little teasing... to implant messages... to prepare her for the final dénouement on her return from Glasgow in a couple of days.

The thought made her wet. She dipped down into the bubbles, lowering her head into the warmth. Satisfied, she widened her legs as she emerged, pushing her sex upwards towards the tantalising jets of water. They felt sublime. 

So would Becky's tongue!

She raised her body and pressed closer to the pleasure-giving jets, steadying herself with both hands on the side of the sunken tub. The water shamelessly stroked her sweet lips, massaging her very core in the way she'd train the twenty-two year old Brazilian beauty to do.

Her thoughtful blue eyes closed in pleasure. This wasn't the water lapping her towards her orgasm. It was Becky's perfect mouth—her soft tongue. The blonde's full pink lips parted as she gave a deep sigh. Careful. Not too fast. 

In her minds eye, her hands were taking hold of the raven coloured locks, guiding the Brazilian woman's inexperienced movements. 

The feeling was sublime—she had to be careful!

Swinging around, Erika allowed the eager torrents into the welcoming crevice between her buttocks. It rushed there, sending explosive pleasure to her brain. She adjusted position to intensify the feeling, bending forward at the same time as she thrust her ass back against the Jacuzzi wall. In blissful collusion with the pleasuring water jet, she allowed the sensations to ravish her.

Just before her curvy body was about to surrender itself to the onrushing climax, the shrill ring of the doorbell rang out. She allowed the raven-haired image in her mind to bring her to orgasm before answering.

***

"Is it always like this?" Katie asked her two dinner companions. 

She knew she was being unreasonable, of course. There was a General Election in two days, for goodness sake. But if he was going to be the invisible man as soon as they arrived, then why ask her to accompany him? 

The problem was exacerbated by her state of arousal. She'd built herself up to fucking him as soon as they arrived. She needed to fuck him as soon as they'd arrived! Had she taken care of herself after her bath, she would have been feeling better. Much better. But stupidly, she hadn't. Stupidly, she'd told herself to wait for her lover. Well how long was she going to have to wait?

Yes, she was being unreasonable. But all that did was bring back her doubts. Was he really interested in her? Or was she just another fuck? Another scalp to add to all the others he—and Erika—had claimed? Damn, this was so unfair!

"No, it's not always like this," Sally answered, with a sympathetic laugh. "But just now he's in demand every second of the day. It's only to be expected."

Katie glumly nodded. She liked the redhead. Sally seemed to have a permanent twinkle in her eyes. And she was right—it was only to be expected. But that didn't help the way she was feeling. Maybe she shouldn't have had that third glass of wine? She was feeling light headed and very horny. 

She needed that black cock...

"Afraid so," Thomas added, his voice slightly slurred. It had been funny watching Sally ply him with wine. He'd had even more than Katie had. Apparently, he wasn't much of a drinker, and the petite redhead had winked at her with each refill. It was naughty, really. But in the circumstances it had kept a smile on her face. God, knows, she needed something to smile about...

"Had the Mary O'Leary allegations still been grabbing headlines," he said, taking another sip, "things would have been different. Gloomier. But now that he's been cleared, every single second counts."

"Every second?" she responded, smiling to herself at the alcohol-induced haze in his eyes.

He nodded, then realised what he was saying. "Sorry," he slurred. "I don't want to pour water on your time here. But... well... he has an incredibly full schedule, Katie."




Politics Ch. 07



The brunette nodded, pushing her plate to one side. The prawns had been delicious. If you ignored the sight of a teetotaller gradually descending into a happy drunken state, not much else was. She glanced at Sally as the redhead topped up his glass again. The petite woman grinned openly at her now.

"We're good company though, aren't we?" he slurred, with a happy smile.

"Brilliant company, Thomas," she said with a smile. He seemed a pretty straight guy and she liked that. But his drunken words only confirmed that travelling to Glasgow hadn't been such a good idea after all. 

"And we're back in the race now," he added, his unsteady hand picking up another piece of crusty bread but not quite managing to dip it into the oil. He raised a wavering finger and aimed it roughly in her direction. "Mark my words," he garbled. "Every second counts!"

Sally met Katie's, sharing an amused grin at Thomas's state. Then her face turned serious. "From the poll results fed through before we came down to dinner, we're neck and neck with Labour again," she explained, waiting a few moments before continuing while their plates were removed. "That means the next two days are critical. But I'm afraid they're packed full, too."

Katie nodded, her face betraying her disappointment. "I should have stayed out of the way..."

Sally patted her hand. "Well, it seems to me that having people around him who care will make him more relaxed. He'll perform better. I'm sure you being here will be a big help to him."

The psychiatrist's face changed into a reluctant smile. How could Alistair go wrong with people as good as these around him? "That's a nice thing to say, Sally. Makes my stay here seem more worthwhile. I guess I'll just have to be patient and let Alistair get on with things." She thought for a second. "Besides, it might be interesting enough watching the political machinations from close quarter's."

"Like watching paint dry," Sally said, laughing out loud. "But actually, these last couple of days will be fascinating. You'll find out more when Erika arrives—"

She suddenly stopped, realising that she'd maybe put her foot in it. Mentioning Alistair's ex to his new girlfriend—if that's what Katie was—wasn't the subtlest of moves. Especially with the woman feeling as melancholy as she appeared to be. 

For a few seconds, the silence spilt the air.

"Yes... Erika," Katie slowly said, looking down at the tablecloth. "I gather she'll be joining us at breakfast tomorrow. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Sally kept her face straight. Looking forward to meeting her? That was one meeting she wanted to be in on. She sneaked a look at Thomas. Her fair-haired friend was smiling happily. Soon he'd be her lover.

***

After a soft kiss on the lips and a caressing hug, Erika led Becky through the house towards the hot tub. Despite her orgasm, she could feel her skin tingle in anticipation with each sensual step.

"I'm relaxing. Come and join me," she told her. It wasn't a question or an invitation—it was an instruction. Come and join me!

The Swede walked with an swinging, easy gait, feeling the excitement inside with the certain knowledge that those wonderfully deep brown eyes were fixed on her voluptuous body. Only the fluffy white towel protected her nudity. She ran a hand through her wet blonde hair, pulling it back across one freckled shoulder.

Reaching the Jacuzzi, she suddenly swung around. "Well? What do you think?"

With a flick of her wrist, she allowed the white towel to flop to the mosaic-tiled floor, leaving Becky wondering whether the Swede was referring to the hot tub or her body. Standing naked at the edge of the Jacuzzi, she raised both hands to her hair now, smoothing it back on her head. 

Her eyes spoke to the Brazilian. Look at me. Devour me. Want me. Her hands slithered downwards to her breasts, cupping them, flicking across the high, dark nipples that pointed skywards. 

Dancing to the strings of the expert puppeteer, Becky's eyes were dragged to the gravity defying swells, almost as if they were paying homage to the powerful, arrogant breasts. Erika allowed the woman to feast, holding herself momentarily in the relaxed pose of a model, one leg pushed forward in front of the other, arms dropping down to her sides. Slowly, calculatingly, she took three graceful steps backwards, immersing herself in the warm bubbling waters.

"Don't just stand there," she told her friend as she sat on the seat beneath the water. "Join me. And tell me all about your interviews."

Becky nodded, her pink tongue flicking across her lips at the thought of undressing under the sexy blonde's gaze. For some reason, she wanted to put on a show, repeat the sexy way that Erika had revealed her curvy body. Show the Swede that she, too, could be sexy. Was sexy! And had a body to match. 

She took her time, knowing she was being studied. She turned to meet Erika's gaze, the Swede's expression curious, questioning. Woman always had an interest in each other's bodies, but in this case there was something more. She glanced away as an inexplicable embarrassment gripped her, but then her eyes returned, drawn back to Erin's sultry gaze by some invisible magnetism.

With a sigh of anticipation, her fingers slid to her large belt, playing with the buckle, pulling gently, unfastening and then allowing it slide down her legs and, with a clunky clang, drop onto the mosaic-tiled floor.

Unfastening the top button of her jeans, she rested a slim hand on the round, white table for balance. Slowly, sensuously she tugged them down her long, slender legs, revealing her hardened buttocks encased in a wispy cream thong. 

Erica's hypnotic gaze seemed captivated.

With her hands shaking, she took the hem of her white tee shirt and yanked the garment above her head in one swift movement. Her tanned swells bounced free, springing up and down across her chest until they settled. The sexiness of the moment, and the rush of cool air around her newly exposed swells, brought an instant hardness to her dark nipples. 

Tit for tat, Becky thought. You showed me yours, now I'm showing you mine!

She allowed their gazes to intermingle before slipping her thumbs into the waistband of her cream thong. With what seemed like an appropriate sexy flourish, she shimmied out of the material, wiggling her ass as she kicked the skimpy garment away. Well? What do you think? her mind asked the blonde.

Slowly, she edged into the water, sliding next to Erika in the bubbling foam. It struck her that neither had spoken for some time. Waves of sensuality were radiating through her body, creeping under her skin, reinvigorating her nerve endings. Even in her foggy brain, she could see that Erika seemed to fully understand the way she was feeling. Her body trembled at the thought.

"Your interview with the London Standard?" Erika eventually said, breaking the silence. Let's get on straightforward ground first. Then we can test the water. Her glossy lips curled into a large smile. "How did it go?"

Becky felt her blood quicken. Yes, the interview! Two interviews!! "Wonderfully well," she murmured. "But everything's gone wonderfully well today, Erika. The opening was fantastic. I watched the TV broadcast and Deborah put a great piece together for us. And then, after the London Standard interview, the Metro called and I did a piece for them, too! They'll appear in the morning."

"On the way to fame and fortune," Erika chuckled, reinforcing the comment with a sexy arch of her eyebrows. 

"Maybe," Becky laughed, caught up in the moment. Life was wonderful. So was Erika. The Jacuzzi felt glorious, sending pinpricks of warmth across her tawny skin. The world was turning in her favour, promising so much, and in truth it was all down to this sexy blonde woman's influence.

"I love you for what you've done, Erika," she mumbled, feeling embarrassed at the words but wanting to say them all the same. Her nipples hardened even further. She felt light headed. It was difficult to resist the overwhelming urge to show the blonde just how grateful she was. For a few seconds, she closed her eyes, trying to steady the flow of emotion that ran from her brain to her sex.

"I love you, too, honey," came the husky Scandinavian accent in her ear.

Rebecca's eyes shot open. Erika's face... mouth... lips... were inches from hers. Their noses touched, nuzzling before their lips met. 

Becky reached back to hold onto the edge of the Jacuzzi, fearing she'd be swept away into its depths otherwise. Their kiss started lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. It was tentative at first, as Erika allowed the Brazilian to make the running. When Becky grew bolder, she responded in kind. It turned from hesitant to tender to passionate before their mouths paused for breath.

The Brazilian beauty stifled a moan of pleasure as the wetness flooded her thighs. She opened her legs, allowing Erika to move her body between them.

Her total acquiescence was even more than Erika expected. Just a kiss, she'd planned, but it was so difficult to constrain herself in that way. Particularly with the raven-haired beauty all but offering herself. Beneath the water the Swede's hands returned to the wonderful breasts, seeking and finding the rock hard nipples. Gently but insistently, her thumb and forefinger squeezed the erect buds between as her tongue traced along the contours of Becky's teeth.

The blonde varied the pace of the kiss—deep, passionate, then playful and teasing. Occasionally there was the clumsy touch of teeth as their lips locked hard. Her tongue reached deep into Becky's mouth as her hands mauled those voluptuous breasts. They were hers. Ripe to the touch.

The shrill ring of her doorbell interrupted the moment. It was the car sent to take Erika to the airport. Was it that time already? She didn't care. She wasn't going anywhere until she'd closed the deal.

"You'll come and see me as soon as I get back from Glasgow?" she asked the panting woman, cupping Becky's head in her hands.

The Brazilian beauty nodded. "Yes... yes, I want to..."

"Would you like something to remember me by while you're away?"

Becky's eyes narrowed as a surge of arousal flooded through her curvy body. Erika's hands were stroking her thighs. They both understood her meaning. She thought back to Pixie and nodded. She needed that feeling again...

The blonde dipped her head to suck in Becky's right nipple. The young beauty hissed as the wet sensation around her nipple spread through her. Erika's right hand curled across her wet pussy under the water. The Swede's slender fingers tiptoed around her swollen clit. 

When she stiffened two fingers and pushed them into Becky's oily pussy, the twenty-two year old gave a long, throaty groan. Erika just smiled, instantly pulling her fingers away and holding them up. They were glistening with the raven-haired beauty's juices. 

Slowly, she brought them to her mouth, sucking them one at a time.

Becky's breath caught as she watched the amazingly sexy act. Erika kissed her again as she slid her hand back downwards. Eagerly, the Brazilian beauty widened her legs to accept the wonderful intruders. The Swede smiled through the kiss. This woman was going to be the perfect lover.

"Oh, shit!" Becky gasped into Erika's mouth, as the blonde increased the pressure on her clit. Her thumb was both soft and persistent. It was flicking, diving, fingering. Creating circles of fire, beneath the waves! A third finger joined the first two in her pussy. The blonde twisted her wrist. 

Becky's body went stiff as the long digits drilled into her.

"Cum for Erika," the blonde whispered in her ear. 

The Brazilian threw her head back, her long, dark hair sinking into the water. Her tits floated on the bubbles, her shoulders pushed back against the wall, her legs splayed wantonly open. She came harder and longer than even with Pixie. So fucking good. So fucking good...

"Just wait 'til I get back from Scotland," Erika whispered into Becky's cute ear. "Next time, it won't be just my fingers getting you off."

***

"What's happening?" Thomas asked, as Sally helped him lie down on his bed.

"Ssssh," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "You've had too much to drink."

"Too much...?"

"To drink," she confirmed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he defiantly said, blinking his eyes. "Well, maybe a little fuzzy."

"Want me to help with the fuzziness?"

"Oh, yes," he grunted, taking a long sip from the glass of water she held for him.

"Okay," she murmured, grinning to herself. Was it date rape to fuck someone who was drunk? She didn't care. He wouldn't be drunk when she'd finished with him. "Here, drink some more."

He greedily slurped from the glass. Some water ran down his cheek and onto his shirt. Sally rubbed the wetness with her hand, standing up as she placed the glass onto the bedside table. When her hands dragged her multi coloured top over her head, Thomas looked as if he was going to panic. "What... what are you doing?" he asked, blinking his eyes as if to check they weren't deceiving him.

"What d'you think?" the redhead asked. "You said you wanted me to take the fuzziness away."

She posed for him, sexily cupping her naked tits. Her dark little nipples sat high on their peaks and were already erect. They grew long and hard out of her small areola. The way his mouth dropped open made her smile. His drunken state somehow added an extra dimension. He was hers to do with what she wanted. She intended to take advantage.

Her hands unfastened the short, wraparound skirt, sliding it down her legs. Standing in just her skimpy thong, she knew just how sexy she must look.

"You like?" she teasingly asked.

Thomas's eyes weren't too blurred to disguise his arousal. Bending forward, her hands went around his neck and pulled his head upwards from the pillow. He responded to the kiss. Nice and soft. With tongues. 

"Feel better?" she asked as she pulled away. Her big eyes stared into his.

"Can't," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"Oh, I think you can," she told him, sliding her body upwards so that she lowered her left breast to his mouth. She got the reaction she wanted. Feeling a nipple invade his mouth, Thomas clamped down on it, sucking it inside and beginning to suckle, like a baby at his mother's breast. 

"Oh, yesssss," she hissed, stroking the hairs along the back of his neck as she switched breasts and gave him the other. "Such a good boy!"

Her hand sought out the bulge in his blue denims as he suckled her—his mouth sucking, her hand stroking. Time to move to the next stage. Adjusting position, she pulled away from his pleasuring mouth and began to unfasten his belt, pulling it free from the hoops on his jeans before flicking open the top button and pulling down the zip.

"We have all night," Sally teased as she eased out his pride and joy and dropped her head. He was already fully erect. 

She ran her slippery tongue across his round, purple head. She licked it as if licking ice cream from the top of a cone. It was only when he grunted that she sucked him inside. He might be inebriated, but he wasn't too drunk to know what she was doing. Or try to stop her.

He didn't.

She put on a show for him, her short, silken locks enthusiastically swaying as her mouth ran up and down his hard shaft. She knew how to suck good and make it look good. 

His hips inadvertently rose a little from the bed.

She pulled away, giving him a playful grin. "So, is this as good as your Brazilian girlfriend," she mischievously asked. 

The pained look on his face made her giggle. His fingers dropped to her hair, as if he was about to wrench her head away. When she dropped her mouth back over his crown, he paused. When she took him all the way inside, his grip turned into a caress, running through her soft, coppery hair.

Sally smiled to herself. Men were all the same when you got down to it!

She traced her expert tongue along his length, bathing it in saliva before taking him all the way back in her mouth. This time, she smoothly took him all the way down into her throat, her lips wrapped around the root. The hand on his balls felt them tighten and she pulled away immediately, taking his shaft in her hand and gripping it tightly. 

She teasingly shook her head. "Makes you want to cum, does it? The thought of Sally's mouth doing things to you? Have you been thinking of this, Thomas? When we've been in the office? Thinking of what this would be like?" 

She felt his cock twitch again and leant down to lick a drop of pre cum from the head. 

"Oh, you bad boy," she teased again, allowing him to see her licking her lips. She was showing him a side of her he never knew existed and from the way his cock reacted, it was a side he liked.

She allowed him a few seconds to calm down, watching as his breathing returned to normal and the tightness in his balls relaxed before continuing the exquisite torture. She sucked him slowly, gently, running her lips up and down his throbbing member. It was like playing with dynamite. 

He was close. She could feel it. And she loved that anticipation.

He grabbed hold of the sheets as he tried to hold back. Every time she felt him close, she eased off. She tried a different technique each time she returned. She sucked his balls. She corkscrewed her head. She tormented him once again with her throat muscles. The redhead took him to the edge and back five times until she knew he could stand no more. 

Enough teasing. She needed pleasuring, too!

***

Katie admired herself in the long mirror again. The simple act of shaving... going bare... made such an amazing difference to the way she looked. And to the way she felt about herself. Her naked reflection was hot. So very, very hot.

Quite why she'd brought her vibrator with her, she really couldn't explain. It was a nonsense! With Alistair there, she wouldn't need anything else, would she? After all, he'd be fucking her all night long.

Except, she had brought it. And Alistair wasn't there. Nor had she heard from him since his pre dinner message. He might be busy, but not too busy to call her, surely? This wasn't what she'd expected. It reinforced her concerns!

She hated that!

The anticipation of sex throughout her journey from London, and the failure to deliver on that promise, had left her feeling extraordinarily horny. She should have given herself relief immediately after her pre-dinner shave. That would have taken the edge off the way she was feeling. With him not being around to satisfy her, she had two options. Go out and find a stranger. Or use her favourite Magic Wand vibrator. It wasn't really a close call. 

The vibrator was the safer option.

Her restlessness since returning to her suite confirmed that her need for sex was outweighing the danger of Alistair returning and her being caught in the act. Still, by setting the lock on the suite door, she'd mitigate against being accidentally interrupted. By Alistair or anyone else. 

Retrieving the Magic Wand from the 'secret' compartment in her overnight bag, she took it with her to the large bed. The anticipation had her moist. 

The first touch almost sent her into orbit. No, not yet. Take your time, she told herself. At this rate, with Alistair still out of contact, she'd have all night. Running the Wand up her stomach to her sensitive tits, she slowly and sensuously circled it around each nipple. Her legs widened. A soft moan escaped her wet lips. Why tease herself like this when she needed release so badly? 

Go for it, girl.

She ran the lovetoy down her body and across her clit. Fuck, that felt so very, very good. Let the vibrator do the work. That was the secret. Who needed an unreliable man when you had an obedient servant like this?




Politics Ch. 08



Chapter Eight: Entrapment

"Here, sit beside me," Erika invited Katie as the dark haired woman and Alistair came down for breakfast. Both looked showered and refreshed, but Erika knew better. When it came to sex, she had a keen eye, and these two had been up most of the night. Inside, she burned. Outwardly, though, she kept her face smooth, offering a pleasant smile. "The others have updated me on what's happened since yesterday, so I promise not to talk politics."

The psychiatrist returned the pleasantry nervously, slipping into the offered seat next to the stunning blonde. Thomas and Sally exchanged glances; even Alistair looked wary, but no one said anything. 

Despite all that she knew about the blonde, Katie's first impression was a good one. The young woman was intimidating beautiful, her strong blue eyes possessing more confidence than many of the executives in her firm, but she couldn't help but want to like her.

"What are your early impressions?" Erika asked as Thomas poured coffee for the newly arrived diners. The blonde turned in her chair to face Katie, ignoring her ex-boyfriend to her right.

"Impressions…?" Katie asked, halting the flush that was threatening to crawl up her pale and slender neck. Her night with Alistair had left her mind tired, yet her body was invigorated. So much so that she'd joined Alistair in the shower and let him take her against the cool tile. Shifting, she felt her soreness—a reminder of what they'd done. It only stoked the fire that burned between her legs. She wanted—needed—more. Tonight couldn't come soon enough for her.

"Impressions of what? The psychiatrist felt dizzy with uncertainty. Impressions of fucking in the bathroom? The living room? The floor? Their bed?

"Yes, you know," Erika said sweetly. "The campaign. We've burst into life again after this O'Leary woman's lies were exposed. But that means everything is hurtling along at two hundred miles an hour. Hardly time to think. But with only another day before the election, every second is vital."

"I thought you weren't going to talk politics," Alistair dryly murmured.

Erika swung around to face him, her beaming smile not touching her eyes. "I'm not," she softly said, then turned back to Katie. "I'm simply asking how you're finding things. I know what a pain it can be to find yourself on the outside when everything's going on around you."

Katie nodded her understanding, wondering if there was a double meaning there. Her patients often took a more roundabout way when speaking to her and she couldn't help but analyse the blonde like one of them. Was Erika feeling like the woman on the outside now?

"No pain at all, really," she fibbed just a bit. She'd been feeling a little abandoned last night, but after their frantic fucking, she was much better. Since she'd awoken, she'd been dreading this meeting. Yet as Erika put her at ease with her sparkling blue eyes, she began to think she had nothing to worry about. "I had a good dinner with Thomas and Sally last night. Alistair was so busy that I didn't see him at all until quite late. But then I know how busy—"

"It'll be the same today," Erika interrupted, flashing a sympathetic smile. "I tried to create some time for the two of you after his appearance when I reviewed the itinerary. But with the success of the Newsnight interview, everyone wants to talk to Alistair. And it could make all the difference to the campaign."

"I know," Katie answered, sending a smile of support in Alistair's direction, when all she wanted to do was drag him back upstairs and lock him in. The thought of a full day mostly on her own, followed by another long evening like last night, wasn't an enticing prospect.

"Still," Erika said, waving a hand imperiously into the air. "I have something in mind for later that might save your sanity."

Katie's right eyebrow arched and her luminous brown eyes flickered. "Really…?"

"What?" Alistair asked, half leaning across her to make his voice heard. He didn't trust Erika an inch and was going to keep Katie as close to him as he could.

"Nothing you need to be concerned about," Erika told him, her body pulling away from his. She sent a wink at Katie. "Girl's stuff, that's all!"

***

It had been a long time since Becky had given herself the luxury of a lie in. Today, she gave in to the need. Despite the hectic recent pace, it wasn't so much her body that needed a rest. It was her mind. 

With her head nestled into one pillow, she pulled the other across and snuggled it against her as she organized her thoughts. First and foremost, there was her new business. Since the TV news piece last night, she'd been inundated with calls. People who were wishing her good luck. Friends promising to introduce other friends to the studio. Other media, wanting more information.

If this pace kept up, she'd need her own PA to help run the business!

The early signs were brilliant. She'd have to call her parents later. Bring them up-to-date. They were already so excited for her.

Then there was Guus Kessen. In some ways, what she'd done with the Dutchman seemed a lifetime ago. It was surreal. A dream. Had she really sucked him off? Allowed the overweight millionaire to tit fuck her? The knowledge horrified her… 

So why was there a growing warmth growing between her legs? He'd said he'd write the debt off if she let him fuck her. If that thought sickened her as much as she told herself it did, why did her heart skip a beat every time it came into her mind?

Thirty thousand was a lot of money. Even with the wonderful reaction to her opening, it would take a long time to repay. She could wipe it out with one, simple act…

She raised her head and then banged it back down on the soft pillow. "Argh!" she groaned into the empty room. It wasn't just the thought of fucking the businessman that appalled her. It was the fact she was considering it. The thought of being coerced into giving him her body was turning her on. What the fuck is wrong with you? she asked herself in Portuguese. 

One hand found its way down between her thighs. Her heated skin was slippery to the touch. Balmy, like the hottest of days back home in Brazil. Where the fuck was her loyalty to Thomas? He didn't deserve this.

But Guus Kessen wasn't her only problem. What the hell had she allowed Pixie to do to her? Another woman!! If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the pink haired woman's hands on her. And not just the masseuse's. Erika's too. 

Where the hell was that relationship going?

Becky giggled hysterically. She knew exactly where it was going. Erika was her good friend and she owed the Swedish woman so much. She wanted to give herself to her new friend. Pixie had lit the fire, but it was burning for the Swedish beauty. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the blonde's hands cupping her tits. Tweaking her nipples. Sliding down to…

God, when Erika had fingerfucked her, she'd cum so hard—

Once Thomas returned, she'd need a good talk with him. Not about what had happened with Erika, of course. Or what was going to happen between her and the Swede. That would have to remain her secret forever. But she needed to talk about them. For the last couple of weeks, they'd hardly seen one another.

He hadn't said anything about another job after the election, but when he'd accepted this post, they'd agreed it was short term. That was how it had been with Tony Blair, he'd said. It may have been, but his commitment to this Brinkley-Jones was hurting their relationship. If he found another position, it would have to be somewhere where they had time for one another. 

It wasn't just him, of course. 

She'd have to shape her time at the studio so that she could give him the attention she deserved. She'd call him tonight, at his Glasgow hotel, just to talk to him. Or maybe she should wait until he returned? 

For now, she needed some relief. Her hand had been involuntarily softly stroking her wet lips throughout her thoughts. Her thighs tightened and relaxed. Her vulva ached with desire. Guus… Pixie… Erika…

Her body was burning. Her mind felt on fire. So very hot! When she felt like this in Brazil, she'd just go out and select a man to sate her needs. Here, it was completely different. Wasn't it? She had Thomas.

She pushed the pillow downwards, trapping it between her thighs. One hand pushed it into her sex. The other slid to her breasts, her bullet hard dark nipples rising to meet it. She savoured the firmness of her right bud as she pulled on it. Except in her imagination… they were Erika's slim fingers again, not hers.

Her other hand pushed the pillow more firmly around her. Her legs wrapped around it, trapping it like a man between her thighs. Or a woman? Oh, God!!

She could see Erika's eyes, the way they were at the Jacuzzi, staring into hers as she finger fucked her to orgasm. Her hips pushed up into the pillow. Her hand pressed it tighter. She could feel the soft material against her wet lips. Against her clit. She rubbed her curvy body against it, spreading her slick juices against the white cotton. She trapped it, held it. Her hips pumped upwards. She rocked faster. 

"Yes… yes… yes…"

She pushed off the sheets, her naked body arching up from the bed. Her hands and her thoughts sent spears of fire through her body. Her moans danced across the room. Her hips rocked faster. Sweat formed on her brow. Her head jerked back and forth with her upward thrusts. 

"Make me cum again…" she told the Erika in her mind, though she had no idea whether she was speaking in English or Portuguese. "Make me cum…"

She stiffened as the sexy blonde woman obeyed. The Swedish beauty smiled at her behind her eyelids, those playful, glimmering blue irises. Becky's dark brown eyes began to lose focus. They rolled upwards. Her body jerked.

When she came on the pillow, her mind soared like a straw in the wind. 

***

Erika smiled at Alistair's attempts to keep Katie close. She knew him so well. It wasn't that he wanted her with him during the session. He just wanted to keep his new girlfriend out of Erika's clutches. 

He was destined to fail.

The shoebox shaped City Hall in Candlelriggs was the home of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. The stage was large enough to accommodate a ninety strong orchestra, and the auditorium flexible enough to seat between one and two thousand guests. Two days ago, it seemed a ridiculous venue. Now, it was perfect to host the throngs wanting to hear the Conservative Party leader.

Erika waited until he'd personally ushered Katie into a seat at the front and returned to the stage. With perfect timing, she made her way along the aisle and seated herself next to the attractive psychiatrist. His look of horror when he turned to see her sitting there made her laugh. She gave him an arrogant wave.

"Handsome beggar, isn't he?" she asked Katie, nudging her arm.

The chestnut haired woman smiled. She seemed embarrassed at the comment, unsure how to respond.

"And cute, too. It was so nice of him to come to my room last night."

Katie's eyes shot wide. The flicker of shock on her face was impossible to disguise. "Your room…?"

"Yes, didn't he say?"

The dazed woman shook her head. "N… no…"

Erika laughed and playfully punched Katie on the arm. "Oh, don't worry," she told Katie, her voice soft and comforting. "I just gave him the kiss he wanted and then sent him on his way."

"Kiss…" It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a statement. It was just a stunned reaction from the confused psychiatrist.

"Yes," she softly murmured, dropping her hand to Katie's leg and running her fingertips along her thigh. It was a friendly gesture. Not sexual. Not yet. Katie had dressed conservatively, as if unsure what was required. Still, she wore her blue pinstripe power suit well. The long skirt was slit generously to mid thigh. It pulled against her shapely legs as she sat, revealing a hint of darkened stocking tops.

The sight made her tingle. Demure on the outside, sexy on the inside. Very promising.

"Oh, Katie," she continued with a knowing look. "You must know what he's like by now. He's such an outrageous flirt."

The dark haired woman was lost for words, struggling to take in what Erika was telling her. The Swede could read the thoughts going through her mind. So that was why he was late coming back to their suite. That was why he was so horny. After all he'd said about his ex-girlfriend, he'd gone to her first. To her room.

"He doesn't really mean anything by it," Erika explained, laying her hand flat on the woman's thigh as she turned further into her prey. She could feel the lace of her stocking tops. "Well, not unless he's had too much to drink. God knows how you stop him then. But listen, Katie, between us girls, he's yours now and I wouldn't do anything to interfere with that."

Erika loved the feeling of being fully in control. After the session, there'd be a round of formal press interviews, then photographs, immediately followed by a formal lunch. Alistair wouldn't get any sort of break. Her scheduling had seen to that. It left her plenty of opportunity to execute the second part of her plan. God, she was on form! Some days she felt invincible. This was one of them.

"I promise," she continued, applying the mental pressure. The older woman fell for it so easily. And this woman was a highly regarded psychiatrist? It was laughable. "Whatever he might try, Katie, you can trust me…"

***

Becky was luxuriating in the aftermath of her orgasm when her mobile rang. She'd ignored several calls already while she'd lain in bed. How lazy! But she had a rare free day today. Make the most of it, she'd told herself. Relax. Unwind.

She languidly reached out, her sweat covered breasts falling free from the bedclothes as she pulled the phone from the bedside table. Her heart stopped when she saw the caller ID. What should she do?

For some reason that she wouldn't admit, the Brazilian woman wanted to take the call.

She apprehensively raised the phone to her ear. Her chest heaved. Her breath quickened. Her recently satisfied sex began to tingle again. "Yes…"

"Rebecca, my dear," came the voice. The Dutch accent was unmistakeable. "How are you?"

"I'm… good… Guus…" she softly answered, drawing the sheet to her neck, as if he'd be able to see her uncovered breasts otherwise. She realised with a start that her nipples were pushing hard against the thin cotton. 

Surely not simply as a result of hearing his voice?

"Pleased to hear it," the heavily accented voice murmured. "I heard about yesterday's opening. And I caught the piece on television. It seems that you're off to a wonderful start."

"Th… thankyou," she answered, idly brushing her fingers across her hard stomach. The pressure between her legs made her widen them again. What was wrong with her?

"So my money has been put to good use. You know you couldn't have achieved this without me?"

"And I paid you the way you wanted," she spat back, the light touch of her fingertips coming to a sudden halt on her soft skin.

"Yes, indeed," he answered without the trace of any embarrassment. "And as I recall, you carried out your duties extremely eagerly."

Deus! Was he ringing to gloat? The tingling between her legs increased. "Guus…"

She heard his soft laugh. "It's true," the pronounced Dutch accent drawled. "I mean, you were the one who sucked my cock at the end. Wanted my seed. You can't deny it, my dear…"

She should have been outraged. But whatever exasperation ran through her body, the excitement his words provoked outweighed it. Her fingers ran down her body and she began to stroke herself again. God, she was so wet!

"Guus," she hesitantly said. "I don't want this sort of conversation."

"No, I understand," he confidently murmured. "Even if your voice tells me something else. So let me get to the point…"

Yes, she thought, rubbing herself harder at the memory of their session together in his office. Please get to the point!

"My final offer. It won't last forever. Have you considered it?"

"Final offer?" The shockwaves hit her. One finger slid inside her labial lips. Then a second. They curled inside her, her thumb flicking her slippery button. It hardened and grew under her touch. Oh, God, her orgasm was beginning to bubble. She wasn't doing this. Was she? Masturbating to the sound of Guus Kessen's voice on the other end of the line?

His laugh was louder and longer this time. Self-confident. Arrogant. Patronising. It was as if Guus knew he wasn't saying anything she hadn't thought since then. She just hadn't wanted to admit to those thoughts. She hadn't betrayed her husband… she'd been coerced! Her blush increased. Her fingers took her closer. 

"You know only too well," he responded. "A way to wipe out your debt."

Becky could hardly speak. Her breaths came in short gasps. The image of the Dutchman—inside her, fucking her—filled her mind. She began to breathe more heavily. Her middle finger rubbed up and down her wet opening. She tried to cling on to what Guus was saying but right at that moment she was preoccupied with the slippery bud of her clit. 

"I need your answer," he told her. "By tonight."

The Brazilian woman couldn't disguise her gasp. "Tonight?"

Kessen's voice was firm. It was the tone he used for closing business deals when he held all the Aces. "Tonight. Or the offer is past its sell by date."

The phone clicked into silence. Becky's heart was beating so fast it threatened to burst through her chest. The enormity of Kessen's take-it-or-leave-it declaration seeped into her mind. Recollections of the Dutchman's cock as he titfucked her filled her mind. They were replaced by images of the overweight millionaire fucking her. She began to sweat at the thought.

Her legs widened. Her fingers began to move again. Harder, faster. She couldn't hold back. Her head thrashed as she fell off the cliff. Her perfectly sculptured ass cheeks lifted from the bed as her whimpering scream pierced the room.

***

Alistair had slowly risen to his feet, smiling confidently out into the auditorium as he ran a hand through his long hair. Taking his time, he removed his jacket and threw it onto the chair behind him. He pulled on his blue tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt.

"Get on with it!" came a Scottish accent from somewhere near the back of the hall.

Alistair waited until the laughter died down. "I'll do that," he said with a smile. And first, let me thank everyone who's taken the trouble to come along today. I know how hard people work up here, and how difficult times are."

"Aye, they are," came a shout to his left. "Bloody hard!"

Alistair nodded, silent for a moment while he thought.

"Lost for words?" someone else shouted, bringing another peal of laughter.

"No," the black politician responded with a smile. "It just seems to me that you'd rather exchange views than listen to a prepared speech. So why don't we do that? You ask whatever you want, and I'll try my best to answer."

The cheers and round of applause that ran around the large theatre told him it was a brave decision. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

"A lot of us canna work hard reet now, because we've lost out jobs," the first question came from the front of the room. The bearded Scot stood on his feet to shout out his point. "So what are you gonna do about it?" 

"Great question," Alistair immediately responded, nodding at the man before glancing around the room. "Put your hands up, how many people here have lost their jobs in recent times?" he asked, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the white shirtsleeves up his powerful black forearms. 




Politics Ch. 08



Around a third of the audience raised their hands. He gave a soft whistle.

The bearded Scot interrupted him again. "Ay, and there's many more like us aroond this great City. But you have'na told us what you're gonna do about it yet."

"That's true," the politician replied, slowly nodding his head. "I haven't. And I believe in straight talking. My mother was Scottish. Born not to far from here, actually. In Paisley. She lived and worked in Glasgow most of her working life. Then disaster struck and we moved to England."

The joke brought a huge roar of approval from the audience. A huge round of applause followed. The Scots loved any sort of dig at the English. "Ay, well, we'll not hold that against you," a ginger haired man shouted from somewhere near the middle of the room.

"Thanks," Brinkley-Jones laughed along with them. He was off to a good start. "Look, I'll not bullshit you." He paused. "Hey, can I say bullshit?"

The question drew another round of laughter from the audience. "You can say a hell of a lot worse than that," someone shouted.

"Great," Alistair grinned. "I can see we speak the same language. Now let me tell you something that you probably already know. There are three types of politicians. Those who tell you what you want to hear—they usually never deliver what they say. Those that just won't face you." He paused while he theatrically glanced around. "Can you see anyone from the Labour or Liberal parties here?"

"Got more sense!" someone shouted, bringing another round of good-natured laughter. Alistair joined in, holding up his hands. 

"I'm beginning to think that," he responded. "But, let me tell you something about Alistair Brinkley-Jones. First, I'll always come and face you down. I'll never hide. Second, I'll never promise something I can't deliver."

"So there'll be no jobs available?" the bearded Scot confrontationally asked, making sure his point wasn't forgotten.

Alistair nodded. "I'm not going to lie, and you wouldn't believe me if I told you I'd find you a job tomorrow, would you?"

The room split between a ripple of applause and a series of groans.

"Listen," Alistair told them. "The jobs in the great Glasgow shipyards are gone forever. You can't bring them back, and neither can I. And the days of all-powerful Unions are long gone, too. That's why you need someone you can believe in. Someone who'll tell you the truth. But someone who's on your side, and will look after your interests."

"You're on our side?" a sceptical voice shouted. 

"Yes, yes I am."

Another ripple of laughter ran around the room. There wasn't much confidence in the thought of any politician doing much to help Scotland.

"And it's not easy," Alistair continued, raising his voice above the increasing noise. "There's only one real way forward. It's the only way! What we've got to do instead is reskill you. Prepare you for the future."

The groans in the room grew louder. Alistair Brinkley-Jones met them head on.

"I understand how that makes you feel," he continued, his gaze swinging from one side of the huge room to the other. He wandered across the full length of the stage and then back again. "Change isn't easy. But it's a different world now. You don't need me to tell you that. So we all have a choice. We can either address change, or whither away and die."

He paused, allowing the wave of disquiet to flow around the room before settling.

"Listen folks, there's one thing I do know. If you're anything like my mother, you're not going to easily give up, are you?"

"Not likely," someone shouted.

"This is Glasgow," came another voice.

"Exactly," Brinkley-Jones responded, thumping his right fist into his left palm. "I don't give up either. I've had a lot of shit thrown at me in this campaign—"

He paused, allowing the laughter and comments to meet his words. It took a good while until they were exhausted.

"Hmm… I see you've heard," he joked, and this time the spontaneous burst of applause told him he was starting to win them over. 

"But listen," he continued. "I didn't quit as a result, and neither are you!"

"Not likely!"

Alistair nodded at the response. "Exactly! But we've all got to get smarter and learn new skills. I can't promise you a job overnight, I'd be lying if I did."

He paused, though this time it was more for effect. The noise was settling. People were listening to him.

"But I can promise that I'll work my ass off to give you the support you need. And the training you need to find another job. That's what the Conservative Party stands for," he emphasised, his voice rising. "We're committed—and Alistair Brinkley-Jones is committed—to supporting you folks and ensuring that life gets better."

The ripple of applause started slowly but grew into bigger waves.

He held his hands up, stilling the reaction. "But you have a part to play, too," he said, warming to his theme now that he had their full attention. "It's not easy, changing careers, and you'll need to give it your best shot."

The spattering of applause told him he still had some work to do.

He wandered across to the left of the stage, and then back across to the right, waiting until the chattering began to die down. "I told you I'd taken some hits in this campaign. It hasn't been easy for me. In fact, it's been fucking difficult."

The curse word brought a huge cheer.

"But I've told you, I have Glaswegian blood in me. I'm up for everything that anyone can throw at me. And I'll win! Now then, you're mostly all Glaswegians, right? Some of the hardiest, most flexible, hard working people in the world! I promise you I'll help provide the tools. And if you use them, you'll never look back."

For a few seconds, there was silence. 

"Well?" he asked, his heart in his mouth.

The sudden roar of approval told him he'd successfully made his point.

***

Erika steered Katie into the VIP bar area, making sure they were located as far as possible away from Thomas and Sally, the media, and—when he arrived—the man of honour. She wanted them to be alone.

"That was wonderful," the blonde said, both to herself and to Katie. Even before he'd spoken, she'd planned on coming out as the supportive former girlfriend. She didn't really buy into his whole commitment to the common folk rhetoric, but he'd always had a way of speaking…

The chestnut haired woman didn't answer. He large, dark eyes were far away, filled with confusion. All her doubts that had resurfaced. 

Erika grabbed two glasses of cheap red wine from a passing waitress and handed one to the psychiatrist. The Swede was playing the game to perfection. She'd known from the start that full frontal assault would prove to be counterproductive. Every aspect of her natural cunning was essential here.

But she was at her best when she was manipulative. 

She was pretty certain she'd lulled Katie into a false sense of security. At the very least, she'd introduced insecurities into the young professional that would keep her mind occupied, far from seeing Erika as a threat. They were on the same side, she nurtured through her actions. Booking the suite for the two of them, filling the woman's head with praise. 

But then she'd planted the doubts. This woman was a psychiatrist, and from what she understood, a very good one, too. Yet she was unable to analyse herself. She'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker. There was more of the same to come, of course. Much more.

"Here, drink up," she said, quickly draining her first glass and watching encouragingly as Katie followed her lead. Waving at a waiter, she secured them a second glass. "The formal lunch will last for a couple of hours," she continued. "And then Alistair is tied up until tonight. Any idea what you want to do?"

Want to do? She wanted to go home. She'd had enough. The bastard had created a negative picture of Erika, yet he'd gone to his ex-girlfriend's room last night. At least the Swedish woman had been gracious enough to send him packing, and honest enough to tell her. Katie wondered if that was why he'd fucked her with such abandon? Was he thinking of Erika?

"Want to hear my suggestion?" the Swede asked, slipping an arm around Katie's slim waist and pulling her closer so she could whisper. "Shopping."

"Shopping?"

Erika's eyes sparkled. "Exactly! The cure to every woman's blues! And trust me, Katie. Glasgow has some of the best clothes shops and I know them all. What do you think?"

***

Rebecca's mind was made up. No one would know. And certainly not Thomas. Only her and Guus. And Erika, when she told her. She knew what her Swedish friend would say. Go for it… and for thirty thousand, make it a fuck to remember. Erika treated sex as casually as Becky had while she was back in Brazil. It was good to have a kindred soul.

The taxi heading across London to Kessen's offices was making slow progress in the heavy traffic. That was okay. It gave her a chance to think things through. Change her mind. Or… savour the prospect.

She was going to fuck Guus Kessen for money. Did that make her a whore? The word alone sent a shiver down her spine. There were lots of whores back in Sao Paulo. She'd even had a few friends that did it. They were beautiful, sexy, uninhibited women. So had she been back in those days. And this afternoon, she would be again.

Kessen hadn't seemed that surprised when she called him back. It was almost as if he'd been expecting to hear from her. 

"Well?" he'd simply asked.

"Yes." 

"Good. In my office. At six."

That was it. She'd signed her body away in only a few words.

The bastard could have said something else, she thought, but what? That he looked forward to seeing her? That he wanted her? That she had no choice? Yes, that's what she'd wanted to hear. Something to assuage her guilt. She had no choice in the matter. He was coercing her and there wasn't anything she could do but give in.

Shuffling in the back seat of her taxi, she knew why she really wanted to hear him say more. It was a turn-on. She wanted to be taken, to be forced. The idea aroused her. She was fucking for thirty thousand pounds. Fucking for money that the high-classed Sao Paulo whores would kill for.

The thought made her juices flow.

***

Katie never really considered herself a shopper. Her wardrobe primarily consisted of work outfits, with a few casual blouses and a couple of pairs of jeans for when she was at home. Erika was like a whirlwind as she led her through the trendiest shops and boutiques of Glasgow, and despite her pre-conceived notions about "shop-a-holics," she found herself having a ball.

She also realized just how much she'd misjudged the blonde. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say she'd been misled? The woman had been great company, offering her tips on what to try on and asking the same in return. 

And the whole time, Katie analysed. There was no doubt the Swede was a sexual creature. Even with her, there was a seductive quality that came to Erika so naturally that she didn't think the blonde was doing it on purpose. She was so self-confident, so self-assured. Hugs lasted a little longer than normal, gazes fixed on one another. She'd touch her gently when pointing something out. 

She'd never been with such a tactile woman, and it felt kinda nice.

As the afternoon advanced, whereas Katie became more and more tired, despite their coffee and lunch break, Erika only seemed to get stronger. She was clearly much more used to this lifestyle than the brunette was.

"No stamina, you older women?" the Scandinavian beauty joked, sliding her arm around Katie and pulling her against her curves.

"Hey, not so much of the old," the dark haired woman objected with a laugh. "I was just starting to like you."

"Only just?" Erika asked with the arch of a brow.

"Honestly, this afternoon's been a blast. I'm just a bit bushed."

"C'mon, I know this place," the Swede offered conspiratorially. She nodded at the sign above the hostelry only two doors away. The timing was perfect. She'd been leading the brunette here all along. "There are lots of bars in Glasgow," she explained, gathering up her bags of clothes and pushing through the door. "It has a reputation for being fairly liberal, if you know what I mean…"

Katie didn't. She waited until Erika slid into a vacant corner booth before asking her to explain.

"Heavens girl," the blonde asked, sniffing. "Can't you tell?"

"Tell?" Katie's large eyes widened in surprise. She gasped! "Marijuana?"

Erika laughed loudly, reaching across and pushing a stray strand of hair back behind Katie's ear. "You really are an innocent aren't you? Okay, give me a moment."

Feeling out of her comfort zone, Katie watched her head to the bar. The blonde walked with a bounce in her step, sashaying her hips like she knew where Katie's eyes would be. She'd be right, of course; the older woman found herself mesmerized by the taut ass encased in those figure-hugging white trousers. Matched with her deep red blouse with its flipped up collar and her wavy, flaxen hair, she was a true vixen.

"Beers?" the psychiatrist queried, her eyebrows arching in surprise when her friend returned with two bottles.

"Beers," Erika confirmed. "Their strongest. And no glasses, either." She raised a bottle and clinked it against Katie's. "When in Rome…"

Katie grinned as the blonde laughed again. She had such a delicious laugh. Could she really be the wicked witch that Alistair had painted?

"Here," Erika said with a knowing wink as she shuffled in her bag. She brought out a cigarette. "Light it," she instructed, handing Katie the book of matches.

The brunette did, the child like look in her eyes confirming that she knew she was doing something she shouldn't, but somehow couldn't resist. 

Erika held her hand as she lit the cigarette, a look passing between the two of them that gave her goose bumps but left her confused.

"Try it," Erika said, taking a drag and then holding it out for her friend.

"I don't…" Katie's eyes were wide as saucers.

"It's not tobacco," Erika confided, with a wink. "Try it."

The psychiatrist hesitated, her eyes darting from the reef to the blonde and back again. This was naughty. Really naughty. And yet…

"Try it," Erika giggled. This was no big deal, she seemed to say. Why are you being a chicken?

Maybe she was right, Katie thought? Maybe she needed to loosen up? Goodness knows, with her seeing a different side to Alistair, she felt like she deserved to do something she shouldn't. What was wrong with having a little fun? She hesitantly raised the joint to her mouth. Her gaze fixed on Erika as she took her first ever hit.

When the burning smoke hit her lungs, she coughed loudly, tears welling up in her eyes. It did the same with Erika, only the blonde was laughing.

"You've got to take it easy, honey," she said, handing Katie her bottle of beer and plucking the joint from her between thumb and forefinger. "Here, this'll help."

Katie took a slug of the beer, wiping her hand across her lips as some escaped and dribbled down her chin. The effect of the weed rolled in suddenly, like London fog off the Thames. She laughed, though she wasn't sure why.

"Damn, Erika," she giggled softly, her eyes glancing around the rough looking hostelry to make sure they weren't being watched. "Where've you brought me?"

The Swedish woman laughed, picking up her own glass and clinking it against the brunette's. "I've told you, Katie—when in Rome! If you want to experience Glasgow, you've gotta go native. Och aye man!"

The attempt at Glaswegian, with that sexy Scandinavian accent, made Katie laugh out loud. She took another slug of her dark beer. Damn, that was strong. Her eyes crinkled as she swallowed the mouthful. Erika passed her the joint and she took another hit. The combination of alcohol and marijuana penetrated her brain more deeply.

Her head was swimming but, God, she felt good!

***

Guus Kessen had been somewhere between semi-erect and ramrod hard all afternoon. He could barely think straight, let alone do work, and it had been all he could do not to take care of business himself.

But no, he was going to save all his energy for the sexy Brazilian slut who'd be here any minute now. With a lust-and-Viagra cocktail pumping through his veins, supplemented by a little illicit umph, he was amped up and rock hard when his receptionist finally announced Rebecca's arrival.

"Send her in, Marjorie. And go home! I'll close up."

"Yes, sir."

The door opened hesitantly and a shy Rebecca de Santos stepped in. Knowing her fiery temperament, it was almost touching.

He sat back and silently appraised her, raking his gaze across her white halter dress. It was short and tight on her toned body, the colour a stark contrast to her shimmering, deeply tanned legs. Girls like Rebecca didn't wear stockings or hose—they didn't need to.

"We need to stop meeting like this," he said at last, easing back into his seat and scratching his chin. "So much pretence." When the sexy little entrepreneur didn't say anything, he held his finger up and twirled it in the air. "Let me see you."

Awkwardly, she pivoted on her spiked, white heels. The dress clung to her firm, rounded buttocks, barely covering her smooth thighs.

"Excellent. But I'd like to see more…" He pushed up out of his chair, not even bothering to hide the tent in his pants. "Lose the dress, my dear."

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath, but didn't object. Instead, she reached behind her neck and unfastened the white tie of the halter. Skimming her hands over her shoulders, she slowly peeled the white material away.

Beneath, she wore a strapless white bra and a matching thong. Like the dress, it was scintillating against her dark tan.

"My, my, there's no doubt in my mind what it is you do," he complimented, eyeing her six-pack stomach and the lines of definition in her long legs. Without touching her, he circled close, admiring the way her flawless buttocks tucked in to meet the tops of her thighs. 

He felt her shiver as he touched her ass. He watched her eyes close. Was that a gasp of pleasure, or fear?

When he dipped his head low to kiss her full lips, she turned her head. Her cheeks were burning against his mouth. "No kissing," she protested weakly, like it was some kind of deal she'd made with herself on the way over.

Guus laughed, grabbing her chin in his hand and turning her to face him. He jammed his fat lips down onto hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She only resisted for a moment. She yielded almost too quickly for Guus. He'd hoped for a little bit more of a fight, but as his hands explored her body, he wasn't about to complain. 

The girl seemed to be all muscle, although she was soft where it counted.

Breaking the embrace, he dragged him around to his side of the desk and sat her on the edge before sinking into his executive lounger. She looked at him; he looked at her. Her breathing was hard, causing her full tits to throb over the tops of her bra, 

"Play with yourself," he ordered.

"That's not part of our agreement," she protested. 

That was better. There was the fiery girl he'd lusted after. But he'd tame her. "Do it."

Her dark eyes blazed at the indignation, never leaving his for a moment as she slid her hand across her hard body and under her flimsy thong. Her face tensed as the touched herself and felt just how wet she was.

"Finger yourself," he growled, as he unzipped his trousers. The panties were tiny enough that she couldn't fake it. He watched her knuckles work lower between her legs, her hand and wrist displacing the white lace enough to give him a peek at her smooth mound. 




Politics Ch. 08



The Dutchman licked his lips and freed his cock. Glancing up, he realized she'd given up on pretence. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled to one side as she nibbled on her sexy, lower lip. It was spectacular to watch, especially as he fisted his thick cock only a few feet away.

"Look at me," he barked, sensing her orgasm close. Her eyes flew open, growing even wider as she saw his naked cock again. "Look at it!"

A crease broke across her silky brow. She gnawed on her lips harder, stifling the deep growl that rose from her throat.

"Good, my pet. Now… stop!" She beat her hand harder. "STOP!" He rose to his feet, looming over her. Dominating her. She shied away, drawing her sticky fingers from her panties. The fear was back. "Turn around."

She did so obediently.

He yanked her thong down her thighs and bent her forward, shoving her against the cool leather top of the desk. With his feet, he forced her legs apart. Cock in hand, he bent his knees enough to get into position. His bulbous head played along her wet folds, soft as silk.

Guus Kessen grunted, lunging forward. Part triumph. Part lust. It wasn't just that he was about to fuck the Brazilian woman at long last; it was because she was giving herself so willingly. He clutched her hips as he drove into her, whimpers of delight confirming everything.

Holding her bent over his desk, the Dutchman's trousers around his ankles and his shirt bunched up at his chest, he began to fuck her with an easy rhythm. She was every bit as sexy as Erika, though this one was like a wet dream he'd been having for some time.

A dream that was now wantonly surrendering herself to him.

He placed a hand on her firm back and held her down against the desk, her magnificent breasts spilling out of the bra against the leather top. She pushed her ass back against him, moaning something in Portuguese under her breath. 

He slowed his pace as he felt that familiar feeling building. God, no! Not yet! He wanted to prolong the moment for as long as he could. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to block out the sight, the feel, the sexy grunts of the undulating woman.

She glanced back at him, her long, raven-coloured hair hanging over her shoulder. That look of unbridled lust was rife in her deep brown eyes. He almost shot his load there and then. His clenched teeth saved the day. Her body felt warm and alive as the desk rocked on its legs. He'd fucked lots of women in his office. But no one quite so uninhibited as this woman!

The millionaire's hand caressed down her hard stomach and between her legs. He rubbed her clit softly beneath his fingers. He was determined this fuck would be as memorable for her as it was for him. 

Then she might come back again! 

Her juices soaked his cock as he continued to pump inside her. The sight of her writhing back against him reminded him that he so loved doggie. Her tanned ass made the perfect heart on the end of his cock, and the site of her thong that stretched down around her ankles was perfectly wicked.

"Uh, Deus!" she cried, the words tearing violently from her throat. 

Yes, she was fucking him for money, but she was giving herself to him, too. For the moment, money was forgotten. Her lust was driving her on, her desire to be fucked. To be dominated. By him!

Sliding his spare hand up underneath her body, he cupped one bouncing breast. Her nipple was like a rock in his palm. He squeezed and kneaded, drawing another Portuguese cry. He dragged his other hand upwards to play with both her tits. Her cunt muscles squeezed his thick cock and intelligible gratitude in Portuguese burst from her mouth.

Fuck, he was close. Couldn't hold out much longer. Sweat dripped from his bulk. Rivulets of it formed along her mocha skin. He was panting hard, groaning each time her sex squeezed him tighter.

His hands left her swells. Back to her hips. The finishing line was in sight. Time to give all he had. "Harder, bitch," he rasped. "Want it harder?"

Rebecca didn't reply, instead throwing down a challenge with the increased pace of her backward pumps. She looked at him over her shoulder again, deep brown eyes exploding with lust, sweat pouring from her brow. The Brazilian beauty bucked her heart shaped ass backwards against his thighs.

Kessen grunted like an animal. He dug his fingernails into her thighs, going for broke. He felt himself hurtle towards the edge. Wrapping some of her dark, wavy hair in his hand, he yanked her head up from the desk. Holding it suspended in the air, Rebecca gasped for breath. 

"Deus!" she cried in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. She wasn't on the edge. She was way beyond it. She jammed herself against him one final time. "Uh! UHUH!" Her sex spasmed and contracted around his cock.

Yesssss!

He smirked to himself as he felt her body shake. Victory! He'd taken her to her nirvana before he'd reached his own. The beauty underneath him cried out in Portuguese as she crested in her release. Her juices covered his slick hardness. 

He loosened his grip on her hair and her head sunk back down to the desk. Despite her convulsions, she lewdly spread her legs wider, giving him all the encouragement he needed to go for the finishing line.

When he loosened his grip on her hair, her head sunk back down to the desk. Despite her convulsions, she lewdly spread her legs wider, giving him all the encouragement he needed to go for the finishing line.

He grunted. He—Guus Kessen—was in control now! 

When it came down to it, money talked. He was the one who called the shots. He could have any woman he wanted. Even Erika. Even one as sexy as this. With that thought, his well-worked balls tensed and he couldn't hold back.

He heard Rebecca gasp as he fired the first two streams into her thirsty and waiting sex. His grip on those wonderful hips tightened as more followed. Grunting with each new explosion, he took the moment to revel in his fortune. She'd fucked him for the power he lorded over her, not just the money. And that meant she'd be coming back for more.

With a growl as he finished emptying his balls, he pulled the sexy Brazilian woman backwards and slumped down into his chair. His heart was pounding.

The brunette kept her legs spread wide as her weight fell onto his thighs. She positioned herself on his lap. His cock was still semi hard from the Viagra, enveloped by her tight sex. She squeezed her cunt muscles around him again.

What the fuck…

"Rebecca…" he groaned. Control passed from one to the other.

***

"Let me guess," Erika said as she reclined across from Katie in the booth. She waved a half-smoked marijuana cigarette in the air, holding it now like she would a menthol, elegantly pinched between her middle and ring finger. "You've always been a good girl."

Katie smiled, the strange sensation reminding her how light her head felt. She'd always defaulted to the straight and proper. She worked hard in school to finish at the top of her class. She worked hard at her job to get her where she was today. But if only Erika knew her special secret…

"But I bet…" Erika paused, wagging the joint at her and narrowing her eyes as she analysed. "I bet a part of you would enjoy being bad." She finished with a sly grin, pleased with herself, and held the joint out to the brunette.

Katie's smile widened. She could be bad all right!!

"I've been watching you," Erika said, sinking into the grimy booth like it was a plush sofa. "You're a sexy woman."

Katie felt warm at the comment. Through her hazy eyes, she was vaguely aware of Erika's eyes on her. Was there something in that light blue glint? Contrary to popular belief, psychiatrists were no better at reading minds than anyone else. But if she had to guess, she'd say there was some attraction there. The blonde woman had said she was sexy, after all. And Alistair had told her she was into other women… 

Or was that the drink talking? She shouldn't have had the second bottle of beer. It was way too much for her. 

She knew for certain she'd misjudged this woman. Hell, Alistair had misjudged her, too. Didn't he say she'd been sympathetic when he'd told her about him and Katie? Hadn't she said she only wanted the best for him?

"Ever thought of psychiatry?" Katie asked, struggling to stay in the moment. "You have a knack for reading people, you know." Another sip at her beer. "A natural."

Erika waved her hand dismissively, but it didn't wipe away her grin. "Please, I'm just an ignorant foreigner." Both girls giggled, knowing how far from the truth that was.

"You still care for him," Katie said. The startled look on Erika's face pleased her. She guessed it was a difficult task to catch this woman off-balance, and the way the blonde's jaw set a moment later spoke volumes. She did still care for Alistair, but would never admit it. Even to herself, apparently.

"That's nonsense. He's a philanderer. You can have him," she said bitterly, taking up the joint and pulling on it. She held the smoke deep, releasing it in a lazy curl along her bright red lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. He's just… you'll see."

"I think I'm beginning to," Katie admitted.

She reached across the table, her fingers touching Erika's in an affectionate caress. "You know, you're all right," she found herself saying. Okay, it may have been the alcohol and drug that was giving her the courage to speak, but it was true all the same.

Erika's hand placed itself on top of hers. "You, too, Katie. There's something about you that's really… sexy. Maybe you're a bad girl disguised a good one?" She handed the nearly spent joint back, as though proving her point.

With a drink in one hand and the marijuana cigarette in the other, Katie had to agree. She did so with a giggle. She, Katie Nichols—the straight-laced psychiatrist—was smoking weed! "You think I'm sexy?"

Erika's blue eyes glowed in the smoky dark. "Very," she whispered huskily. "I bet Alistair has had fun with you." There was no mistaking what she was talking about. Katie thought of last night, blushing profusely at the memory of the animal that had emerged in both of them. "I bet you that he brought out a side of you that you didn't know you had."

Again, Katie was surprised at this woman's insight. "How did you…"

"Remember, my dear, I dated him a long time before you." She didn't say it bitterly. There was no jealousy. It was a simple observation. "He has that affect on people."

Katie blinked. The whole time, he'd maintained that it was Erika who'd done all the corrupting. Could this be true? Could it be the other way around? After the last few hours she'd spent with the blonde—the sum total of which may have been more than she'd ever spent with Alistair—she could believe it.

"But you know what? We weren't good together. You're a much more… levelheaded person. It balances him out more. He can be a bit… off the wall, you know. You'll be a good steadying influence."

"Off the wall?"

"Well, you know. Last night was an example. And don't you find that politicians lie so well? But look, it doesn't matter," she continued, softly stroking the back of Katie's hand with her fingertips. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Find out? Erika…"

"Don't worry, honey, you'll be good together."

Katie stared into the blonde's intense blue eyes. What incredible, sparkling eyes they were. And what a fantastic mouth, too! Those lips! She thought of kissing them? Just a small peck? They were so glossy. Damn, this beer and the heady aroma that hung low over the customers were really getting to her. 

"C'mon, taxi time," Erika said, temporarily breaking the spell. "It's gone eight. We'd better get back. Make sure you gather up all your bags."

Katie's head rushed as she stood. She paused, putting a hand on her forehead to get her mind clear. When they returned to the hotel, she'd have to lie down.

"Stoned?" Erika laughed, linking her arm in the brunette's. "Me too. Come on, let's get out of here."

***

"Where's Katie?" Alistair asked, charging into the operations room they'd reserved on the hotel's ground floor. 

Thomas glanced at Sally. She returned the look. Her eyes told him that she wasn't going to be the one to speak first. 

"They're not back yet," he hesitantly volunteered.

The Conservative Party leader's face twisted. As if he'd been expecting the bad news. "They?"

"She went shopping," Sally explained. "With Erika. They said… Erika said… it would be a long, boring afternoon for Katie. So she had a better idea."

The black politician didn't respond. He didn't need to. His face said it all. Thomas and Sally understood. They'd both been on the end of one of Erika's ideas.

"Okay," Alistair snapped, his dark eyes darting around the hotel bar as he spoke. "What are you doing here? Don't you guys have any press contacts to entertain?"

Thomas shook his head. "All done and dusted. We've done everything we can today, Alistair. And things are looking really positive. We were waiting here in case you wanted to get together for a briefing—"

Alistair nodded, stopping himself before he could take his annoyance out of his two most committed workers. That wouldn't be fair. "I've had enough," he simply said. "Brief me in the morning. I have a radio interview in half an hour, from the BBC van outside. But I'll call it a day after that. There's nothing more to be achieved tonight and we have an early flight back to London in the morning. We all need to be fresh for tomorrow."

Sally nodded. "Big day."

Polling Day. The enormity of the moment threw a cloak across them for a few seconds. By this time tomorrow, Alistair could have made history. The first Black Prime Minister. Two days ago it looked unachievable. Now, anything was possible…

Alistair walked away from them, and then abruptly wheeled in a circle. He stepped from one foot to the other. "Well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow." His eyes spread around the room, as if expecting his girlfriend walk in at any second.

Thomas glanced at Sally. She winked back. Her thoughts weren't centred on tomorrow. She was anticipating what lay in store tonight.

"Okay, have a good night," Alistair said, his dismissive wave indicating that he wanted to be alone in the room. Probably a couple of phone calls and some preparation for his interview, Thomas thought.

Sally linked his arm as she led him along the narrow corridor and out into the main reception. The lifts were to their left. Seeing that no one was around, she pulled her fair-haired lover in for a passionate kiss. 

"We're going to have a good night, all right," she murmured into his mouth. "Aren't we, big boy?

***

Erika had been shocked when she'd caught sight of Sally and Thomas kissing downstairs. Clearly, the couple had thought they couldn't be seen. She'd call both their rooms in the middle of the night, just to make sure her suspicions were correct. If there weren't an answer from either, she'd know. 

And she'd put the information to good use…

"This feel so good!" Katie giggled as they swept into the suite she and Alistair shared. Erika watched her prance across the room, arms spread wide as she spun around like a girl in a meadow.

Alistair wasn't there, of course. He had a radio interview shortly, one Erika had set up herself. They had plenty of time. She couldn't wait. Just a little bit more patience and she'd be between this girl's legs.

Erika crossed the room and threw herself into the lounger, crossing her long legs before her. Going into her purse, she lit another joint. Her gaze flickered across Katie's body, taking in the thick looking nipples that were pushing against her blouse. Her tongue flicked invitingly across her wet lips. Those hard buds would soon be in her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Katie asked, pausing for a serious moment. Then she burst out laughing, trying to say something to the effect of: "You can't smoke in here."

"No?" Erika murmured, crossing her arms over her chest as she inhaled the sweet smoke. "Why don't you go open us a bottle of champagne from the bar. Then we can talk about what we can and can't do."

Katie rolled her eyes good-naturedly and skipped over to the bar. Both women laughed as she struggled to open the bottle, finally succeeding in a frothy mess. Two flutes of golden bubbly in her hand, she joined Erika on the couch.

"God, I can't believe I did that! I still feel so good. So…"

"Decadent?"

"Yes!"

The blonde sipped her drink and stared deeply into Katie's eyes. The woman really was a beauty. Erika had always been the one who chose and seduced their female conquests, but maybe she should let him pick a few.

Should have, she quickly corrected. Should have….

"Want another hit?" she asked, forcing her mind back to this evening's target.

"I don't think it's a good idea…" Katie replied hesitantly. Did she realize she was grinning like a fool? This was too easy.

"I think it's a great one. Champagne and pot. There are only a few combinations better than that," she smiled.

"Um, Okay…"

Instead of handing her the joint, Erika took another long drag on the marijuana cigarette and leaned forward as though for a kiss. When Katie opened her mouth in surprise, the blonde hot-boxed her, passing the sweet smoke from one sexy mouth to the other. 

Katie's heart tried to jump out of her chest as the haze in her mind grew thicker.

"Feel better?"

She nodded, finding it a little hard to focus. The smoke filled her body. It made her sizzle. So did Erika's mouth. She felt something on her neck and realised it was lips. A woman's lips! They planted soft kisses that made her body tingle. Then there was a tongue. A wet tongue, leaving a damp trail behind as it slowly traced a pattern across her flesh. 

"You… you mentioned other combinations better than combination and pot?" Katie said hesitantly, trying to turn her mind away from the forbidden sensations her body was experiencing.

Languidly, Erika sat up, taking her soft touch with her. "Why yes, my dear. But you'll have to trust me. Do you?"

A fire was burning between Katie's legs. She'd never been with a woman, but suddenly wanted to more than anything. Only, she couldn't quite convince her rational self. "I think so."

Erika laughed lightly and sat back. "Why don't you try on the new dress you bought today?"

"The one you made me buy, you mean?" the brunette asked with a giggle.

"The one that you looked so sexy in," Erika emphasised.

Katie laboured to her feet, her earlier light-footed grace gone. "If you insist." She disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her out of modesty.

Only a few more moments, Erika though, licking her lips. Her heart was beating rapidly, as it always did in the midst of a seduction. Alistair had prepped her well.

Flipping on the radio, she tuned into BBC. "…a few moments and we'll be joined by the Conservative Party's own Alistair Brinkley-Jones, a man's who's had quite a turn around in the last few days. He'll be talking to us about—" Click.

They still had plenty of time. His interview hadn't even begun. She grinned, a cat waiting at a mouse hole, ready to pounce, and began to unbutton her blouse.

***

"Oh fuck! Uh uh UHHH!" Guus's cock stretched her well-worked pussy with each short thrust in his lap. Bracing her hands behind her on his thighs, her head resting back on his shoulder, Becky undulated her exquisitely maintained body against him. She wanted more. She couldn't get enough! 

It had been easy to get him fully erect again. Just a little grinding on him, like a stripper going that extra mile. Some of her friends back home had been strippers, too. Now, she saw why they liked it so much. Even in this overweight man's lap, she felt hotter than she'd ever been.




Politics Ch. 08



Reaching behind her, she circled his head and drew him in for a kiss. The panting Dutch millionaire's hands clutched her breasts, twisting her nipples as their kiss turned sloppy. She sent moans down his throat before she had to pull away. 

She was close again. Guus's hand on her clitoris pushed her the rest of the way.

"On the desk," he ordered, pulling her away from him by the hips and swivelling her around. He felt her muscles flex beneath her skin as she got into position: balanced on the edge of the leather top with her feet resting on the armrests of Guus's chair.

He stood, eyeing her wet sex spread before him. The businessman gripped his cock at the base and stepped right between her legs. "As of right now, I absolve you of your debt. You're free to go."

The Dutchman didn't step away, however. Instead, he brushed the heavy head of his cock against the bare rise of her mound, just above her clit. She whimpered. "If you stay, it has nothing to do with money. Understand?"

Rebecca brushed aside the enormity of her decision all too easily. All it took was a few more drums of his cock on her pussy. A single tap on her button would set her off again, but he knew how to play his game.

The Brazilian woman groaned, taking hold of his thick girth and pushing it cleanly into her silky hole. "Just fuck me!" 

She twisted her legs around his back and pincered them around his flabby flesh. She loved sex, loved how tactile it was. She loved feeling Guus's balls swing against the bottoms of her ass cheeks. She loved how his cock thrust so deep inside of her. She even loved how his heavy stomach pinned her down.

And God, she loved how he fucked.

***

Katie felt feverish. She could barely control her shivering body, thinking at first it was some combination of the smoke and drink before realizing it was excitement. The last time she'd felt this way was on her Prom night. With the Tico. Only now, the feeling of being bad was amplified a hundred fold.

The dress Erika had asked her to put on was one she'd never buy for herself. She wouldn't have even considered it. The skin-tight silver-sequined dress was short enough that even standing straight, it didn't quite cover the lacy tops of her stockings. And she could forget about a bra; the haltered dress left her creamy white back dramatically bare before converging snugly on her hips and ass.

Erika had even convinced her to purchase a pair of matching sandals, which were sexy, but quite impractical with their four-inch stiletto heels. 

When she stepped back out into the primary suite, she was momentarily taken aback. Erika had changed as well and was standing before the mirror on the inside of the bathroom door, pivoting on her dangerously tall red heels. Katie recognized the deep scarlet slip dress, although it looked frighteningly perfect on the blonde's statuesque frame.

"What do you think?" the blonde asked, swivelling around so that she faced away from the psychiatrist. The clingy material was even shorter than Katie's, barely covering any of her slender thighs.

"Wow…" Katie responded. She felt herself swooning. If there was ever a woman to experiment with, Erika was the one.

"Touché," the blonde replied, holding out her hand in invitation. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm going to fall down!" Katie giggled, swaying across the room like she was walking a tight rope. "I feel tall."

"You look great." Katie blushed. Being complimented by women that looked like a model wasn't something she was used to. As soon as she was within arms length, Erika reached out and pulled her before the mirror. "Look at yourself," she whispered, stepping behind Katie.

The brunette couldn't deny what she saw. She looked hot. Just not like Katie Nichols.

"Alistair will love you in this outfit," Erika cooed. In the reflection, Katie could see the blonde checking her out, stroking her bared back and round butt. She shivered. "But I do, too."

Katie felt her tummy flutter as the reflected blonde leaned down and kissed her on her pale shoulder. She tilted her head to one side as the other woman's lips found her neck. The brunette could feel her chest rise and fall. She was out of breath, panting. She saw herself one last time in the mirror before her lids fell across her eyes. The blonde's hands had crept around, hugging her close. 

Creeping up her stomach, where her nipples had grown visible.

Heat rose with the Erika's creeping hands and soft lips. She felt those butterfly kisses along her neck. Along her jaw. They reverberated in time with the flapping in her stomach and the pitter-patter of her heart. There was no doubt that the touch belonged to a woman. No man had ever been this gentle, nor this soft.

Coupled with the drug and alcohol inside her body, her mind was in sensory overload. She couldn't think. She could hardly breathe!

The hands finally found the undersides of her breasts. She wobbled at the precipice of an orgasm. At the hands of another woman! This wasn't right, was it? This was wrong! Even through the wooziness in her brain, she realised she was being seduced. She tried to pretend she wasn't—don't ruin the moment. But she was. And she had to put a stop to this before it got out of hand. 

Still… maybe just a moment longer?

"Does that feel good, honey?" she heard Erika whisper, her husky Scandinavian tone sounding thick with arousal. Then those creeping hands were cupping her breasts, kneading them through the thin, sequined dress.

She tried to speak, to tell Erika to stop. But how could something that made her body tingle be wrong? The moan slipped from her throat before she could stop it.

"You know you want this, don't you?" the faraway voice huskily whispered.

"No," Katie whimpered, hardly able to get the word out of her mouth. "I can't…" Soft hands mashed her swells. Her nipples were rock hard under the pressing palms. She was moaning again… louder this time.

"No?" Erika's seductive voice was like a whisper inside head, barely audible. She felt the hairs on the inside of her ear dance. "I think you do." She was vaguely aware of one hand leaving her breast; all she could focus on was the return of those softly teasing lips, skipping along her jaw. 

Her head turned, drawn to the heat of Erika's touch. She felt those wonderful lips close over her own. She felt Erika's tongue push into her mouth. She accepted the bisexual kiss.

"Uh, God!" It came out like a whine, high pitched and cracking. She pulled back from Erika's kiss, a fraction of an inch, as she stifled her orgasm. For the moment.

"Very sexy lingerie," Erika whispered, her fingers toying with the strap of her garter belt. Before Katie could saw more, the lips descended again.

Electricity zipped through her body, singing and circling wherever the blonde touched her. Her breast. Her thighs. The panties that stretched tight across her throbbing mound. She almost blacked out but forced her eyes open. 

They found Erika's sparkling gaze only a few inches away, watching her, observing every change in her normally composed face. She tensed when Erika's fingers brushed across her clitoris, hypersensitive even through her thong.

"Look at yourself," Erika soothed, shifting her eyes back to the mirror. Katie's gaze followed. She gasped. The reflection shocked her. The tight, silver dress was bunched up around her waist, fully revealing the floral-patterned black lace of her thong, and the garter belt above it. The blonde's red-painted fingernails were drawing circles across the front. "This is so pretty…" she teased, drawing dangerously close to the upper hem.

Her other hand squeezed Katie's tit one last time. Just as the brunette thought Erika was going to plunge her fingers into her panties, the blonde girl stepped away, leaving her frustrated and slumped on her feet like a forgotten marionette.

The Swede floated back to the sofa on long, graceful strides, and relit the half-smoked cigarette. "Want to know a better combination than this and champagne?" she asked, meandering her way toward the bedroom.

Katie gulped, nodding. 

"Come and find out…" the Scandinavian continued with a quick puff. Without another word, she glided into the bedroom.

The psychiatrist watched her go, rooted to the floor for a moment. Within the other room, she could see Erika reach behind her and unzip her dress and shimmy out of the slinky material. No bra adorned her naked back, but she had a red g-string on.

The blonde sat herself down on the bedside, crossing her legs and setting the joint between her red lips. She patted the spot beside her and smiled through the doorway to the watching brunette.

That was all it took. Katie moved, unfrozen. Her brain might have been a little fuzzy, but it was a good fuzzy, and she knew what she wanted. She pulled her own dress off as she sauntered into the bedroom, doing her best seductress impression. Seeing Erika's bright blue eyes light up helped.

"You've never done this before, have you?" the Swedish woman asked as the brunette crawled up into her lap.

Katie hadn't, but she wanted to. 

Erika pulled the last of the reef into her lungs as the brunette's arms encircled her head. This time, as they hot-boxed, neither woman pulled away. This time, their lips slotted together into a deep, French kiss as they passed smoke down each other's lungs.

When the older woman—a professional who should have known better—pulled her head away, things had gone even fuzzier. Eyes closed, she let herself be guided to the bed, where she'd spent the previous night fucking this woman's ex-lover. She stretched, opening her legs wide as another woman crawled over her.

Erika's eyes sparkled down into hers. Katie's begging gaze met the look. The Swedish woman tipped her head to one side. She raised her eyebrows, silently asking Katie a question.

"Please…" the brunette gasped, feeling the other woman's knee squeeze into the space between her thighs.

"Please what?" Erika asked, leaning forward to run her tongue across Katie's lips. The brunette raised her head. Her mouth opened in search of that tongue. Erika pulled away, holding herself a tantalising inch away. "Please more?" the sexy Swede asked. "Please harder? Please fuck me…"

Katie moaned at the words. Please fuck me? Reaching behind the blonde's neck, she pulled the teasing woman's mouth down onto hers, as though to say, Yes please!

When Erika rotated her leg harder against her pussy, the brunette couldn't help herself. Her thighs widened. Her hands found their way to Erika's perfect ass, pulling her more tightly into the heaving embrace. The feeling of her panty-covered vulva pressing against the blonde's upper leg was sublime.

She gave a loud wail. Complete surrender. She pushed upwards. Her hips moved in more frantic circular motions against the sexy woman's thigh, seeking and finding the magical pressure on her clit. 

Their Sapphic kisses grew looser. Wetter. Harder to maintain through her heavy breathing. She was close. So close…

"No!" she shouted in protest as Erika retreated. She felt a bead of sweat pour down her forehead. She was so close!

The blonde ignored her as she kissed down her body. She maintained eye contact the whole way, those sizzling blue irises promising everything. When she felt Erika's soft cheeks caress her breasts, it was like being plugged into the main. When her long, pink tongue darted out and swirled her nipple, her body jumped at the jolt.

"Has Alistair fucked these yet?" Erika asked, switching tits.

Alistair! Right! She was in their room… She was with his girlfriend… Ex-girlfriend… Fuck, she couldn't keep anything straight in her head. "N… no… Not yet."

Erika smiled. "Not yet," she repeated. "Now you're finally understanding."

She kissed further down the brunette's creamy body, settling in between her thighs. With one side of her thong in each hand, she continued, "He'll make you experience things you never thought you'd do." She kissed the skin just above her panties and below her garter belt. "And you know what? You'll crave it…"

No, Katie moaned, even as Erika lowered her lacy thong. It wasn't a protest at what she was about to do—have lesbian sex with this incredible blonde. Her protest was directed squarely at Alistair. Even as her thoughts and mind swam on the clouds of intoxication, she knew they were through. 

She didn't like who she was becoming.

"My, my," Erika purred between her legs. "Shaven. I didn't think you were the type." Katie went red in the face, and the other woman quickly picked up on it. "Let me guess… this was his idea?"

Katie nodded, biting her lip. She could feel Erika's breath flutter across her moist sex. She was suddenly nervous. Bashful. And yet she opened her legs wider. When the blonde's lips descended, her mind was blown away. Erika had a long tongue and knew precisely how to use it.

The psychiatrist quickly found herself arching her back as she dug her heels into the bedspread. She began to issue hysterical gasps and groans as the other woman went to work on her clit, coaxing the swollen bud from its hood before sucking it like a mini-cock.

Two long fingers joined the mouth, pushing into the velvet channel and easily locating her g-spot. Katie thrashed about, squeezing her own breasts. Pinching them hard. She came violently, screaming her throat raw.

Erika didn't stop there. She backed off, concentrating on her smooth mound and soft pussy lips. Her twisting fingers took a slower, lazier pace. Her tongue lapped softly. Waiting for Katie to come down. 

When she was finally able to catch her breath—when her back finally touched the bedspread again—Erika turned the heat back up. Only now, she introduced a third finger. She used her teeth. This time, Katie blacked out as she came.

***

Thomas lay on Sally's bed, already semi hard at the thought of what was in store. She'd decided that using her room tonight would provide some variety. Becky kept coming into his mind, and he kept pushing her away. A few short weeks ago and he'd never have dreamed it was possible he could cheat on her.

Erika had changed all that.

And now, here he was again, being unfaithful once more. He hadn't been coerced this time. He was guilty, sure. It was like a bucket of water poured over his head. But his cock was aching with anticipation.

"Penny for them?"

He swung his body around on the bed. Damn, he'd been so preoccupied he hadn't heard the bathroom door open. Sally looked delectable in just the short bath towel. The diminutive redhead really was a sexy bundle of dynamite.

He turned away from the sight, trying to compose himself. Why did his cock so easily betray the need inside his body? In just his black boxer shorts, it was impossible to disguise his arousal.

"Hey, I know," she murmured. Waiting until he looked at her, she pulled the white towel from her naked body and began to dry the hair still wet from her shower. "You're starting to feel guilty, aren't you?"

He began to answer. The sight of her jiggling tits stopped him. With each rub of her silken locks, they danced before his eyes. Her breasts weren't large, though on her petite figure they looked big enough. Her long, dark nipples were lovingly erect out of her small areola. She stopped her movements when she saw the direction of his gaze and posed for him, her hands still on her hair. 

"You like?" she teasingly asked, with that cheeky, child-like smile. She shook her upper body, sending the delectable twin peaks into another delicious shimmy. "I can see you do," she nodded at his bulge, hooking her finger in the towel and trailing it over her shoulder as she slinked across the room towards him. 

He felt the mattress sink as she crawled onto the bed behind him. Her hands snaked around his body from behind, running along the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. "See, I knew you liked," she teased.

"Sally…" he began, feeling himself ache under her touch. 

He wanted to say that maybe they should talk instead of fuck? His free hand grabbed one of hers as he tried to compose himself. But when her free hand slipped to the gap in his boxers and pulled him free, he knew he was defeated. 

"Nice," she murmured, gripping just below the crown. "Nice and hard. For Sally." 

She slithered around him and dragged his boxers down his thighs. Her hand, her amazingly soft, began to caress his testicles a second or two before her mouth enveloped him. He felt her teeth on either side of the crown, her eyes teasingly staring up at him as if threatening to bite. When his eyes narrowed, she grinned and pulled her mouth away, holding the base between her fingers as her tongue ran up one side of his shaft and then the other.

"Strange thing about Erika and Katie," she slurped, her mouth not pausing for a single instant. "She's up to something."

"Up to what?" he grunted, gripping her damp red hair and holding her in position. The last thing he wanted right now was a conversation. Her sucking movements were already sending warning signals to his brain.

"That's the question!!" Sally murmured, her outstretched hand pushing him back on the bed. She fed him back into her mouth, her lips covering his entire sensitised crown as her hands dropped to his heavy balls again. Thomas moaned as she fondled him. The excitement was building. "Mmm, I can feel how this little Mister needs some attention."

"Little?" he snorted, dragging her head up to meet his stare.

"I've had bigger," she teased. 

She'd had bigger? He'd show her! With a snarl, he pulled away and switched position to kneel over the redhead. He arrogantly rubbed his throbbing manhood against her lower stomach, feeling her trimmed stripe of soft, auburn pubes. When she moaned, he edged his long shaft down to her centre, following the narrow trail of hair. It gave way to the blissfully smooth ridges of her clitoral hood. She gasped. Teasingly, he eased his cock along her heated furrow.

When Sally attempted to force him inside, he was a little too quick for her. With a twist of his body, he pulled back. "Had bigger, eh?" he snorted.

"Mmm, I like it when you take control," she murmured, raising her hips.

Leaning forward, Thomas took her right nipple into his mouth. His tongue ran around the hard tip as he sucked it inside. When she eased her hips towards him, he pulled back a fraction. Not yet. She'd beg for him first!

His hands gripped hers, entwining fingers. He lowered onto his elbows. Sliding downwards, he left a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on his way to her inner thighs. 

Sally's entire body jerked when his tongue found its objective. She spread her legs further apart, wrapping them around his broad back. With a moan, she locked her feet together. Holding him in position, her hands clasped his head. She pulled his mouth tightly into her needy sex. 

She abandoned her quaking body to his skilful tongue. Yesterday, he'd been tentative. Tonight, he was uninhibited. With each lick, she thrust her hips towards him. Her loins were on fire. He slid his mouth to envelop her clitoris. His fingers stroked the back of her thighs as he gently took it between his teeth. 

Sally's hips bucked as he sucked down hard, coating it with his saliva. Electricity shot through her body. She was there…

She hissed out her sexual release. "Oh, yesssss!"

Thomas didn't wait. Even as she struggled to regain her breath, he was on the move again. Sliding onto his back, he somehow got his body underneath her. Dragging her by her arms, she followed his lead until she was sitting on his lap.

"Want Sally to do the work?" she grunted, her eyes still clouded.




Politics Ch. 08



With a twist of her lean body, her hand took him and lined his cock up with her wet opening. She leant down and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He groaned into her mouth. His fingers dug into her firm ass as she eased down.

"Feels good," she grunted, letting her body adjust to his girth before rotating her hips. She moved in circular motions, gliding him against her tight walls. 

It was her turn to dominate. 

Her hands gripped his farmerboy hair, roughly pulling his head up into another deep kiss. To emphasise her control, her teeth captured his lower lip and pulled down on it. Pushing his head back onto the pillow, she slid her hands to his bare chest. Jeremy was hairy, but she preferred Thomas's smoothness. Wasting no time, she began to power herself down. 

He grunted with each jerking thrust. His hands tried to slow her. The redhead had no intention of allowing him. Instead, she fucked him faster. Her perky tits bounced in front of his eyes. An erotic dance of lust. The sweat dripped along their skin. Apart from their panting, the only noise in the room was the sound of their bodies slapping against one another.

"Have we taken your mind off your guilt?" she grunted, changing back to teasing mode. "You seem happy enough fucking me now…" 

"Don't you ever stop?" he mumbled, feeling the bed shake as she jerked down harder.

She paused, just enough to drop her mouth beside his ear. "Well, just think of poor Jeremy. At home, all alone with his cup of cocoa, while his sexy bitch of a wife let's you fuck her brains out. Not fair is it?" 

Her internal muscles squeezed him in a vice like grip. His eyes shot wider. She squeezed again, rippling herself on his cock. 

"Oh, God…"

"He won't save you," she laughed, her fingernails digging into his chest as she jerked down on him like a jackhammer. "Nobody can. Going to cum, baby?"

Thomas gritted his teeth. He shook his head.

"Oh yes," she teased, pausing for a delicious second and then jerking down hard again. "I think so…"

He closed his eyes. Just like that, she had him ready to fire his load.

"That's it," she encouraged, changing from long, deep strokes to short piston like movements. The bed bounced. Her body reverberated as if someone had switched her onto a high setting and she couldn't stop.

Thomas gasped. The surge began in his balls and raced through him like lava leaving a volcano. He surrendered to the moment and gripped her hips as his seed burst from his testicles. As he began to ejaculate, Sally increased the speed of her downward thrusts. She was determined to find another orgasm.

"Keep fucking, you bastard," she spat out. 

Her teeth reinforced her need by pulling on his earlobe.

Thomas obeyed, continuing his upward thrusts, ejaculating further as he did so. She was sucking his insides out…

The feeling of his spurting inside her was delicious but so was the way his shaft rubbed against her clitoris. The need to cum consumed her. "Keep fucking," she told him again, seconds before her eyes rolled into her head.

Her hot juices poured from her as she came. It covered them both and the bed. Her body shuddered at the powerful sensations and her series of long moans were unstoppable. When her breathing eventually began to return to normal, she grabbed his hair. Her lips found his. It was a long kiss.

Eventually, she pulled back, her aroused eyes stared into his. "Good boy, Thomas. What's next?"

***

Katie slumped back on the bed, her arms splayed to either side, fingers spread wide. Her nostrils still flared as she forced air into her lungs. The slick sheen of sweat started to cool on her body.

She felt hands stroking her damp, chestnut brown hair. She felt a warm body recline next to hers. She was in rapture. The after-effect of her orgasm, combined with the alcohol and drug, made her feel cosy and comfortable.

"Hey," she heard the beautiful blonde murmur. Turning her head, Erika's lips were a tongue's lick away from hers. When the blonde closed the distance, she had no hesitation in seeking out that wonderful tongue. 

Erika sat up, her eyes covering the attractive woman. Katie's long, chestnut hair framed her beautifully sculptured cheekbones. Her large brown eyes were wide, shimmering. And her coral pink mouth looked as sexy as it tasted.

She had to admit it—Alistair had good taste. 

Even Katie's pale skin was sexy, quite a contrast to Erika's tanned flesh. The apple shaped breasts were delightful and those thick nipples made her mouth water. But the greatest surprise was that smooth mound. She hadn't expected the psychiatrist to be shaved. That was a bonus. Thanks again, Alistair.

Bending down, she took a thick nipple into her mouth. Katie moaned like an animal on heat as she pulled it between her teeth. It wasn't the only sound that met Erika's ears. The door to the suite had opened. In her woozy state, the brunette hadn't heard it. But she had. Her heart palpitated.

In a few moments, Alistair would be at the bedroom door.

Moving with the grace of a panther, she spread her body across Katie, scissoring their legs together. She could feel the woman's heat and wetness as their pussies clashed noisily together. In position, she pulled the brunette's leg up to her shoulder.

No time to waste. 

With a teasingly slow pace, she began to move her hips. "Ha—" Katie gasped at the delicious feeling of their juices mingling and their bare skin gliding against one another. 

"Ha—ha… ah!" she began to pant. Erika grinded harder, driving her padded pubic bone against the brunette's button. The older woman growled at the friction, her eyes narrowing with each slap of their thighs.

Erika adjusted position, so that clit rubbed on clit. Satisfied, she rocked gently at first. Their juices were flowing more freely, easing the smooth grind of their bald pussies. Yes, Erika panted in her own mind, thinking of Alistair providing this sexy innocent for her. Her hips circled faster, increasing the intensity.

When Katie attempted to move, Erika thought the woman was trying to get free. She wasn't. The gasping brunette was shifting impatiently as she tried to get her clit to rub just the right way against the blonde.

Erika groaned with satisfaction. This one really was a sexy bitch.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the shadow in the doorway. Time to put on a show. She found the right movement and the right rhythm. Katie released a deep, guttural groan. One hand held the raised leg against her shoulder. The other gripped the brunette's ass, pulling her tighter as her pumping hips increased the pressure. 

The friction, the heat, the sucking wetness, the constant rubbing--it was all there. Groans. Moans. Hot women. Sexy voyeurs. Alistair was watching. Was he hard? Did he like what he saw? 

The brunette was caught up in the need to reach another climax. Her hips started to gyrate wildly and her groans increased in pitch. She reached down, her fingers dancing across their clits. They spared like live wires, each time they touched.

She bucked faster, her cries becoming a shrieking sound.

Erika maintained the pressure. Her ex's new girlfriend was a full participant now—not just giving in to her. Alistair would be impressed! 

The naked blonde rose up onto her knees, her wet sex never leaving Katie's. Bracing her pale lover's leg against her shoulder, she leveraged herself over the moaning woman, increasing the friction.

Katie's thighs started to shake. Erika reached across with her free hand, roughly yanking her hair. Katie screamed as her nerve ends triggered. Her body vibrated. She couldn't hold back. Her hot womanhood throbbed under Erika's hard movements. She screamed out her orgasm.

When Katie eventually flopped back on the bed, letting the orgasm gently fade at its own sweet pace, darkness took her once again. Erika shifted position so that she could turn towards the door.

Alistair's eyes were wide with shock. 

The Swede had intended this to be her final revenge. To allow him to see the seduction of his girlfriend. But there was something else in his eyes. A look she'd seen so many times before. Immediately, another thought ran through her mind. Oh, yes!!!! This would be even better.

She crooked her finger.

***

Becky tossed and turned in her bed. She'd felt the need to call Thomas. To talk to him. Everything she'd done today made the need to hear his calm, loving voice more acute. She hadn't just allowed the millionaire to fuck her tonight. They'd each taken their pleasure, sating themselves on each other's bodies. Hell, she'd stayed in his office for two hours! Two hours!!

After he'd taken her over his desk, she'd fucked him in his chair. There'd been no need to do that. Nor had there been any need to fuck him on the desk. Or suck him back to life so he could have her again. Other than her wanton sexuality! And for someone so overweight, he'd displayed wonderful stamina.

She had no idea what she would have said to Thomas had he answered her call. Maybe she would have confessed? Would that have assuaged her guilt? 

No, that wasn't an option. Guus would remain her secret. 

What was more important was that she put a stop to this before it went too far. Pixie, Guus, Erika… it was all too much.

When she saw her blonde friend the day after the election, she'd explain. She would tell Erika that however attracted she was, she wanted to settle down and make things work with Thomas. Despite the intensity of feelings that insisted she wanted to experience the Swede's body, she couldn't do that. Guus had been a step too far, but at least she could put that down to the money.

What she'd realised in the hours since then was that it had made her feel alive. That disturbed her more than anything. She'd been a whore. A Brazilian whore! Yet it had felt wonderful. She'd loved everything about the whole experience—far more than she had expected.

That's why she'd needed to talk to Thomas. To hear the voice of reason. He was the one constant in her life. Her rock. She'd betrayed him, and yet he'd never dream of being unfaithful to her. That's why a few words of wisdom from his lips would calm her. Bring her down from this sexual high.

Why the hell hadn't he been in his room? She'd called three times. 

She knew of course. The poor thing was being pushed to the limit in this Election campaign. Tomorrow would see an end to that pressure. Then they could make love, have that talk and start again.

***

Alistair was naked before he reached the bed. Erika threw herself back, opening her legs for him. Her head rested against Katie's sleeping body. Revenge was sweet. As he attempted to crawl between her thighs, she pushed him back with her bare foot. When he hesitated, the drooling blonde draped her legs over his broad shoulders. He understood immediately.

Leaning forward, his stiff tongue lapping across her wet folds. 

"Oh, yesssss," she encouraged, wrapping one foot around his neck and pulling him closer. "You haven't lost your touch…"

He twisted his head, jamming his tongue between her labial lips as if he was slicing a knife through butter. Erika moaned again. Her revenge would soon be complete. Enjoy the journey until then.

She moaned as he shifted his focus to her slippery clit. Panting hard, she pushed her hips up to meet him, rubbing his hair with her other foot. Her hard body arched. All that supported her was his black shoulders and the unconscious woman behind her.

His tongue jabbed at her in the way he knew she liked best.

"Yes, honey," she groaned, pushing herself back against Katie's pale skinned body. Her blonde hair spread across the brunette's tits. "Oh, yes!"

She began to hump his face. Her hands grabbed the sheets underneath her as she lifted herself even higher. Her ankles linked behind his neck.

Alistair's tongue alternated between her sweet folds and her aroused button. So familiar. Her heart ached. It had been so good between them once. So perfect. Why the fuck had the stupid bastard tried to dump her?

"My clit," she gasped, directing him. "My clit!"

He responded to her pleading, lapping over her swollen bud over and over again until she couldn't take it any longer. Pushing back into Katie, she squeezed her ex-boyfriend's face between her thighs as she came like a geyser on his sweaty, black face.

"Fuck, I needed that," she eventually grunted, twisting around. Her plan had been to wake the sleeping woman, but she had plenty of time. 

One last fuck.

Pushing Alistair flat on the bed, she straddled him and sheathed his black cock. This was where he was meant to be. She looked down, watching his ramrod-stiff manhood disappear into her smooth sex. Her breathing came quicker at the sight. Black on white. His trimmed, dark curls on her bare skin. So sexy… 

She began to move. Slowly at first. Her perfect swells bounced with each undulation. She began to bounce higher. Her body started to fuck him a little faster. Their bodies slapped together and she felt him tremble. She knew his groan. She knew only too well it signalled one thing. 

Clearly the time he'd spent at the bedroom door, watching her trib with his new girlfriend, had had quite an effect. Time to finish him off. Receive his gushing tribute one final time. Then… she saw a movement beside her. 

Katie's eyes were opening. This was even better.

Slowing the pace until she was sure the psychiatrist's gaze was firmly fixed on them, she tossed her blonde hair. Ran her fingers through it. She held it on top of her head as she moaned. "Want it?" she asked Alistair.

He growled as his fingers latched onto her hips. It wasn't enough for her.

"Want it?" she asked again. "Tell me. I'm the best, aren't I?"

He grunted again, trying to increase the upward pace. She was having none of it. Her body stilled. Reaching down, she pinned his arms to the bed. The message was clear. If you want to cum, you'd better play this game.

"Yes," he conceded, his voice hoarse with need. "Fuck, yes… you're the best."

"So are you, honey," she murmured. "So are you…"

Erika felt a hint of nostalgia but there was no time for that. With a grunt, she slithered off Alistair's cock and attacked Katie's lips. For a few moments the brunette allowed her, but didn't respond. The shock of what she'd seen was still sticking in her throat.

"Told you," the Swedish woman murmured as she kissed off Katie's lips. "Didn't I tell you what to expect?"

Her hands caressed Katie's breasts as she spoke. Her fingers ran across the aroused woman's nipples. One hand dipped down between the brunette's thighs. Good. Despite the brunette's disgust, she was wet again. Very wet. 

"Don't let him fuck you," Erika whispered, keeping her voice low and away from Alistair's hearing. "The bastard's not worth it. Is he?"

Katie didn't answer, though she did raise her hips against Erika's hand. This girl was aroused and ready for more.

Her fingers easily slid inside the brunette's juicy body. The woman was panting harder, thrusting up against the pleasuring invaders. Erika knew she wouldn't be able to resist. One parting, whispered shot before she left them, and her plan was complete. "He just wants to use you the way he used me..." 

The Swede's eyes flickered over to Alistair's. Once she had his gaze, she nodded down to Katie's thighs. He followed her eyes and understood the message. Erika knew he wouldn't be able to hold back either.

She was right. The black man reacted instantly, sliding his body between Katie's thighs, onto his knees. He roughly lifted up his girlfriend's legs and planted them across his shoulders. 

"No," the pale skinned woman moaned.

Alistair took no notice. He rubbed his hardness along her overheated furrow and then sliced into her, driving her down into the mattress. She folded against his hard body, being dominated above for the second time in just a few minutes.

"No," Katie objected again, even as her feet linked behind his thick neck. She squeezed him tightly, pulling him deeper.

Alistair snarled, his face hard and domineering as he began to fuck her. His teeth clenched and unclenched with each downward thrust.

Erika backed away towards the door, leaving the two rutting animals to their pleasure. Tonight, Katie would fuck him. Tomorrow, she'd remember she'd said 'no' and he'd ignored her. That made it rape, didn't it?



Politics Ch. 09



Chapter 9: Marriage?

While the last thirty-six hours had been agonizingly slow, Katie couldn't remember the details. She remembered cancelling her meetings yesterday and today. The psychiatrist had told herself that doing so would allow her to recover from her sexual mauling at Alistair's hands. She remembered drinking—most of Election Day had been spent with a glass of wine in her hand. And here she was, the day after, in a rough bar in the East End of London. Drinking again. 

Any other substantive thing was gone.

She told herself all this was necessary. The alcohol provided her with the liquid courage to face up to the repercussions of everything that had happened since she'd met Alistair Brinkley-Jones. A name she'd come to hate. Unfortunately for Britain, it was a name that was now acknowledged as the new Prime Minister.

She stared up at the big television screen above her head. He'd done it after all. Despite the Mary O'Leary allegations, he'd pulled it off. The first black Prime Minister. It had been a close run thing, but not only had the Conservative Party won the election, they'd also (only just) gained sufficient seats to guarantee them parliamentary control.

His ugly face was on the screen now. 

She had no idea which News Channel it was, not that it mattered. They were all the same. Broadcasting a replay of Alistair's acceptance speech given in the early hours of the morning. George Blair, the Labour Leader, had waited until the result was certain before conceding. He'd drawn it out as long as he could and waited for the recounts in the most closely contested seats. But in the end, there was no room for doubt.

As she listened to Alistair's calm, reasoned, statesmanlike diatribe, her face creased in contempt. This was the man who had so roughly fucked her only two nights ago. She'd kept saying no, though she knew that her refusal was a moot point. Her body had gratefully taken everything he could give. 

But it was a drug and alcohol fuelled body. Put there by his ex-girlfriend. So that she could fuck her, too! How could she have been so stupid?

The brunette had tried to help Alistair. She'd attempted to find a way to bring him out of his self-confessed 'sex addiction'. Instead, she'd been seduced into their little games by the Conservative Party Leader and his Swedish slut ex-girlfriend. Had they set her up together? A charade designed just to fuck her? Logical thought said that was impossible. Her intuition suggested something else.

If the public knew what a sex-crazed bastard he was, things would be different. Maybe the Mary O'Leary accusations had been false, but there were lots of similar women that Alistair had taken advantage of. Unfortunately, her professional oath prevented her from revealing that secret. 

And now she was one of those women.

She felt her fingers wrapping around the stem of her cheap wine glass as rage poured through her. At Alistair. At Erika. The Swedish beauty had befriended Katie with the sole purpose of seducing her. Questions bounced around her head. Had Alistair's arrival in their suite scared the blonde seductress away? Would she actually have spent the night with Erika otherwise?

She recalled the sight of the Scandinavian woman riding Alistair's black cock with an ecstatic look on her face. It made her cringe with horror. The problem was… it inflamed her, too. 

Since leaving Glasgow, she'd been constantly horny. A bitch in heat! As much as she denied it to herself, while everything that had happened since meeting that bastard had almost ruined her life, their experiences together had rekindled the fire inside her. Her heightened arousal had always made her more sexually aware. Of people around her. The way they looked. What they might be fantasizing. Like her…

The guy sitting in the corner had been watching her for the last half an hour. Of course he hadn't made it too obvious, but Katie knew

Hell, he was coming over to her now. Well… it had taken him long enough.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked as he reached her. 

There was a knowing flicker of his dark eyes. She returned the look. It was like he'd been sent to her. For the last hour she'd alternated between hating Alistair and thinking of Eduardo. Should she go back and visit the café owner again? Instead, her answer was here. A stranger. And with his dark Indian complexion, shaved head and slender figure, he was just the way she liked them.

"I guess I could do with another," she smiled, pulling at the ponytail of dark hair as she raised her empty glass. "Dry white."

She watched the wiry stranger through narrowed eyes as he headed to the bar, keeping her lustful gaze on him until he'd returned with their drinks. The way he carried himself, the way he smiled—he was cocky, no doubt about that. 

He thought he'd pulled. Well—he might just be right!

"Want to talk about it?" he said, pushing the chair back with his foot and flopping down opposite her. He plonked their drinks down onto the round wooden table.

"About what?"

"Whatever it is that's troubling you. Whatever's led you to a bar like this. A pretty lady like you."

"A bar like this?"

"Yeah," he grunted, his narrow eyes flickering across her body as he spoke. "A good looking, nicely dressed woman like you. This isn't your usual place. You're an upmarket bird. This is far too rough for you. Want to know what I think?"

Katie smoothed a hand through her ponytail again. Her eyes remained on the rim of her wine glass. "And what's that?"

"I think you're looking for something."

The psychiatrist didn't speak for a moment. Instead, she allowed the arousal building inside her to circle around her sex. It was here on a plate. All she had to do was take it. "I think I've just found it," she told him, meeting his hot gaze.

Throwing her head back, she drained the wine in one go. Standing up, she made her unsteady way across to the small door on the right of the bar. How much had she drunk? It wasn't necessary to look back—she knew he'd be following. Her heart was racing. 

Was this really happening? Was she really going to do this? Suck him off? 

The bathrooms matched the roughness of the bar. Dirty wooden floors, grainy walls, stained porcelain sinks. The stalls were no better, with some of the slats on the dark doors broken. But Katie didn't care about any of that. Barely saw it. 

Instead, she turned to see that the sexy stranger had followed her inside. He was leaning against the wall even as his hands were working on his belt. They didn't need to speak. In a few seconds, his trousers were down at his ankles. Her mouth watered at the sight of his swollen, uncircumcised dick. 

It featured a pronounced, upward curve. Like a dark banana.

The young Indian man was hairy, although he kept his pubes trimmed short and his large balls as shaved as his head. Katie didn't trust herself to say anything. 

Almost robotically, she crossed the room and sank to her knees before him. Taking his hard cock from his stroking hand, she closed her mouth over the head. Her body shivered as an orgasm quaked through it. There was absolutely nothing as exciting as sucking on a man for the first time. It rivalled any other experience she'd had.

Even that of being fucked by Alistair.

The stranger had to sink a little along the counter in order for her to get the proper angle. She corkscrewed around the curved cock, feeling it's spongy head graze the roof of her mouth as she swallowed more.

"You're good, baby," he groaned as he roughly gripped her ponytail. He began to jerk his hips in time with her head thrusts. 

He pushed against the back of her throat, causing her to choke a little. Katie sucked off the dark banana to compose herself before diving back in. Her body was on fire. She'd soon have what she wanted. His cum. Then she'd be out of there.

The dark stranger shuddered above her as her moan passed vibrations along his fleshy cock. He was close, she quickly recognized. She bobbed faster, taking shorter strokes designed to maximize the pleasure of her deep-throat.

She was shocked when he wordlessly came. So quickly? Only the tightened grip on her ponytail warned her. His throbbing cock spat into her mouth, little bullets of creamy manjuice. It was exactly what she needed...

She sucked his head clean, desperate to savour the moment. Much to her surprise, he only went partially limp. She wasn't too experienced, but all of her previous lovers went soft after emptying themselves into her mouth.

Then his hands were underneath her arms, picking her up off the floor with a grin and kicking open a stall door. "I know, I'm a stud," he said, bouncing his thick brows. 

His mouth crashed against hers, distracting her for a moment before she realized he was unsnapping the button of her tight jeans and pulling at the short zipper. God, he was sliding her jeans the rest of the way off. Suddenly, she realized his intent. The Indian was going to fuck her!

"Nice thong," her impromptu lover commented as her lacy panties came into view. His words inflamed her more. She shoved her hand beneath the skimpy lingerie and found herself soaking.

She didn't do this. Not fuck. She found strangers and sucked them off. That was all. Yet she didn't protest. Nor did she stop him when he peeled her blouse over her head. She deserved this, after falling for Alistair.

It was her penance.

"God, you're sexy, baby," he grunted as his hands slid over her bra, dragging up the cups and tightly squeezing her naked breasts.

"Stop talking," she demanded, kicking her jeans off her legs. Stop talking! Just fuck me! Her heels went with them, leaving her in the presence of a man whose name she didn't even know, in nothing but her dark lacy panties.

The guy nodded, reaching out and yanking at the expensive black material. She cried out as they snapped, thirty pounds gone in one yank. Her skin burned as he pushed her back into a stall and sat her on the closed lid of a toilet seat. He was right beside her, cock in hand. God, he was growing again!

She lifted a leg onto the toilet paper dispenser and rested the other on the floor. He still wasn't fully erect, but when he rubbed his cock along her well-oiled furrow it didn't take long. Her hands went for his cock and dragged him to her wet opening. With a grunt, he pushed himself inside her.

Katie reclined, hitting the old-fashioned toilet handle with her back and flushing it. She didn't care. She didn't even hear it. The cold metal digging into her naked skin reminded her how dangerous this was. How dirty. She was being fucked in a public lavatory! And a dirty one at that! It somehow heightened her arousal.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" she moaned, feeling the Indian's sweat drip across her tits. 

He pumped inside her in long thrusts, caring only for his own pleasure. Her breath was blown out of her lungs. Stars twinkled in her vision as her nostrils flared. When she came, it was as if a series of volts was being fired through her.

It was only a few seconds later, when he turned and left her without a word, that she wondered what the hell she was doing.

***

Alistair Brinkley-Jones—Prime Minister! The black politician breathed out a long sigh that encapsulated the rigours of the last twenty-four hours.

It had been late into yesterday evening before his victory was confirmed. One of the closest races in modern history. Curiously, all bar one of the recounts had gone the way of the Conservatives, giving them sufficient seats for parliamentary control. The Good Lord had been smiling down on him.

Yesterday had been the most exhausting day of his political life, though as he'd been dead and almost buried just a few days ago, he wasn't complaining. The telephone calls had started to arrive. Fillon, Berlusconi, Merkel from his European counterparts. He'd even held a brief telephone conversation with Barrack Obama. They'd agreed to meet in the next couple of months. 

He'd created history! The first black British Prime Minister! All of his press conferences were completed and only a round of TV interviews remained.

The five-minute break he'd insisted on talking was supposed to allow him to collect his thought and prepare. Instead, he was realising what a fool he'd been. One thing that would make his world complete was missing...

Erika!

His whole team had been wonderfully supportive. Thomas and Sally in particular had worked like Trojans and he needed them as part of his inner circle when he moved into number ten. He wouldn't be Prime Minister without them and their experience and loyalty were essential in guiding him through his first term.

But it was thoughts of Erika that filled his mind. His ex-girlfriend had surprised him yesterday. She'd taken away a lot of pressure he was feeling by picking up everything that had slipped through Thomas and Sally's net. After that last night in Glasgow he hadn't even expected to see her at Headquarters.

They hadn't discussed what had happened. Not that they'd skirted around the subject, it was just that there hadn't been much opportunity for any sort of conversation. The day had been frenetic and Alistair had been dragged from one constituency to another to add his support for the local candidate. He'd been run ragged—and it had been worth every single chaotic second.

It had been late in the day when he'd eventually returned to their South West London Party Headquarters in Millbank and Erika had still been there. 

He'd been sitting with his head in his hands as they'd waited the results of yet another recount, when she'd brought him a mug of coffee and ruffled his hair. It had been a tender gesture. Without speaking, their eyes had met and communicated as if it had been like the 'old' days.

Old days? How he missed them!

Rather than being upset with Erika for what had happened in Glasgow, he realised she'd opened his eyes. His brief flirtation with Katie had been a horrible mistake. How could he have thought he'd be better off with the psychiatrist than Erika? What he needed—now more than ever—was a strong woman by his side. Not someone who could so easily be seduced into bed. It was pathetic!

His Swedish girlfriend was always one step ahead and that was one of the qualities he loved in her. She was more than self-sufficient. She was his equal.

They made a wonderful team.

And then there was the sex. Yes, he admitted it. He was addicted to the lifestyle Erika offered. He'd tried to run away from it because he was apprehensive about the consequences. And the Mary O'Leary situation had fuelled that anxiety. But he should have had enough faith in his girlfriend to realise that she'd never allow anything to eke out in public. She was much too resourceful for that.

How could he have imagined that Katie was any sort of match for her? That was ridiculous. He'd thought he could start again with a strong powerful woman and adopt a different lifestyle. But she'd shown she wasn't a strong woman. And he'd realised he didn't want a different lifestyle. All he needed was for their way of life to remain their secret. For the women Erika procured to know their place!

Had Erika had stayed in his Glasgow suite two nights ago they would have enjoyed sensational sex with Katie. There was no doubt the psychiatrist was hot in bed, too. But his ex-girlfriend hadn't. She was making a point. And the point was well made. If there was any comparison to be made, it was the Swedish woman who'd come out on top every time.

He sighed again, wandering to the window of his office and staring down into the South West London street below. The knock on his office door interrupted his reverie. 

"Yes," he grunted.

It was Sally who poked her head around the door. "The car to take you to the television studios has arrived. Sure you don't want me there with you?"

He shook his head as he turned and headed towards her. "No. You enjoy the party here. I'll be back soon enough."

Halfway across the office the new Prime Minister paused. He knew only too well that had it not been for Erika, he wouldn't be Prime Minister now. She'd invested so many hours in him. Accompanied him to functions. Willingly developed and cultivated relationships with key business and political contacts. She'd planned, cajoled, plotted behind the scenes—all to further his career. Most of all, she'd been the driving force behind him when he'd had doubts. 

Without a shadow of a doubt, he realised he still wanted her. Wanted to be with her. He reached for the phone as he glanced across at the redhead.

"Sally, I have a call to make. Tell the car to wait and keep people away from my office…"

***

Erika checked her appearance in the bedroom mirror. Just out of the shower, she was naked under the green wraparound dress. It would take only a single pull of the tie at her waist to reveal her glorious nakedness. 

Becky would be hers soon and the thought of the Brazilian woman's hot body already had her excited. In Glasgow, Katie had been the aperitif. Today, two days later, she'd taste the main course. And there was no doubt the young beauty fell into the à la Carte category. Her tongue flicked across her lips at the thought. The sexy woman would be there in half an hour. And then…

The brief thought of Glasgow made her reflect on Alistair and Katie. She momentarily wondered what had happened between the two of them after she'd left the suite. Or rather, she knew the answer to that question. It was how Katie had reacted the next morning that intrigued her. 

The brunette had been so out of it with the weed and alcohol, and so incredibly horny, that she imagined the two of them fucking well into the early hours. A tinge of regret flickered in her heart. In other circumstances, she would have been with them, enjoying the fruits of her labour.

Another women seduced, for the two of them to enjoy together.

She and Alistair made such a good team. Until she'd thought about it after retiring to bed, she hadn't quite appreciated how much she actually missed the man. She'd been so hell-bent on gaining revenge on him that she'd lost sight of the fact that the two of them went so well together.

When she'd masturbated that night, it had been Alistair she'd fantasised about.

Yesterday—Election Day—she'd seen every facet of the vulnerable man. She'd seen his strengths, his weaknesses, his aspirations and his fears. She knew them all even better than he did. Watching on television as he raced from one venue to the other, he'd looked very powerful one moment and incredibly susceptible the next. It was the Alistair she'd come to care about. 

Not love—she didn't 'do' love. But perhaps the next best thing?

And becoming Prime Minister wasn't just the culmination of Alistair's dream. It was hers, too—her dream for them both. It was what she'd put so much effort into. Groomed him for in some ways. That's what it had been all about, hadn't it? Erika Brinkley-Jones had such a wonderful ring to it. Wife to the first black Prime Minister, to the man who would eventually inherit millions!

Then the idiot had become infatuated with that fucking psychiatrist. How stupid! She'd have given him a little scope if that were what he'd wanted. After all, she had Guus Kessen, didn't she? The Dutchman was too good a contact to ignore. She'd make sure she and the multi-millionaire would remain close allies. She'd position him exactly where she wanted, fuck him when he needed her, and ensure he was on hand to help her whenever it was required.

But as for Alistair and that woman, their relationship had no chance of succeeding. Even without her interference, it was doomed to disaster from the very start. The two weren't right for each other. They weren't a match. She'd quickly been able to see that and was surprised he hadn't. But then, like most men, he'd never been good at relationships. 




Politics Ch. 09



There'd only been one possible outcome. She'd stepped on the unsuspecting woman and crushed her like a beetle under her heel. sand she'd had fun exploring that hot little body at the same time. The psychiatrist may have hated Alistair when she'd woken up the next morning. But she wouldn't easily be able to shake off the sexual high she would have experienced.

That would stay with her forever—together with a newly acquired taste for women. The psychiatrist would dabble again. Erika had no doubt about that. Perhaps she'd look her up at some stage? Now that would be fun! 

She sighed and fluffed her way hair as she again stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked hot! Alistair was such a stupid bastard! The fool could have had everything with her help. A couple of terms as Prime Minister would have been almost guaranteed. His inheritance would have been his—well, theirs. Together with all the hottest of sex he could possibly want. 

Instead, she was about to ruin him. He had to pay his debt, too.

Benni would be distributing the incriminating photographs to all sections of the press later tonight. Alistair would have no option other than to resign in disgrace. His political career would be at an end. His inheritance would be lost. He'd regret the day that the thought of crossing her began to ferment in his mind.

Her phone rang. Damn, if that was Becky reporting she was running late, she'd scream. Her body was starting to ache in anticipation of the feast in store. Flicking it open, her eyes narrowed in surprise. 

"Well, well, Alistair," she sexily murmured. "Now this is a surprise…"

***

"We did it," Thomas mumbled, an air of disbelief permeating his voice. He felt like he'd just crossed the finish line of a marathon he hadn't intended on running.

Sally nodded, the enormity of their achievement filling the air in the conference room. They hadn't been able to relax until now, working at feverish pace since returning from Scotland. They wanted to watch Alistair complete his television interviews on the plasma screen before joining the others for a victory party that would last the rest of the day. Alistair wouldn't be back for another hour, so the celebration hadn't officially begun, anyway.

"He's good, isn't he?" Sally murmured, crossing her hands over her chest as she leant against the conference room wall. Alistair would be back at headquarters within the hour and the celebration could then properly get underway.

"Always has been," Thomas responded, helping himself to some water from the plastic covered bottles beside him. "Want some?"

The diminutive staffer nodded and took a bottle from him. He helped himself to another.

"You know," he quietly said, standing next to her, "I'm knackered. But since the results were confirmed, Alistair seems to be invigorated. Look at him, he has them in the palm of his hand. I guess that's what confidence does for you."

The redhead laughed. "That's not Alistair."

"It's not?" he asked, with a puzzled frown.

"Hell no," she answered, taking a ladylike swig from the bottle. "That's the Prime Minister. I think there's quite a difference."

Thomas smiled. "How exactly?"

Sally widened her eyes at him. "Just think of how many interviews he's had to do on the back foot. With Mary O'Leary hanging around his neck like an albatross. Anything's a piece of cake after that."

"True," he agreed, swallowing half the bottle in one go. It would provide a nice platform for all the champagne to follow. "Those dark days seem a long time ago, don't you think?"

"A lifetime," the redhead agreed. "Remember how charismatic he was when you first met him? When he persuaded you to get on the bandwagon?" She nodded at the screen. "That's the man we're seeing again. Only this time, he has history on his side. There'll be no stopping him."

"You know what? You're right." He felt the cool water line the inside of his stomach. Thinking about that initial interview straightened his back. Thinking that he'd played an integral part of getting the man elected squared his shoulders. "You staying on?"

Alistair had offered them positions in his political regime. Until now, Thomas didn't know what his answer would was.

Sally nodded, laughing. "Of course! Quite a pay rise. Guess it pays to be in Government." 

Thomas playfully nudged her in the side. "You deserve it, Sal. He couldn't have done it without you."

The petite woman slipped her arm around his waist. "You, too, Thomas. You too. Have you decided if you're accepting his offer?"

He nodded. "I have. And I'm staying." He'd planned on talking to Becky first, but he knew what he wanted. And if he'd learned anything from this whole experience, it was to not deny himself anymore. "I busted my ass to get him onto Number 10."

The redhead raised her brows as she regarded him, thinking that maybe it wasn't just Alistair who was a changed man. "You did. It was very impressive, Thomas."

He smiled at her, hearing the purr in her voice. 

"I still need to work things out with Becky. The hours I've been working haven't been exactly fair on her. In addition to… other things…"

"Take her on holiday. That's what Jeremy's doing for me."

He stared at her. She was so cavalier. So confident with herself.

"Good idea, although her studio opens on Monday. Don't think there will be much chance of us getting away some time soon." He paused, thinking, If we make it through tonight's talk. "So… where's Jeremy taking you?"

"The States," she answered with a gleam of delight in her dark eyes. "New York. He says it's a reward for all the hours I've put in at work and the time I've been away. Sweet, isn't he?"

Thomas shot her a wry look. "Yeah. Sweet."

"He fucked my brains out last night," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, even though they couldn't be heard through the glass conference room door. Her hand slipped from her waist to his ass, squeezing his hard flesh. "Though not as good as you did in Glasgow."

Thomas felt his cock begin to unfurl under her stroking touch. Turning sideways to check that no one could see them through the glass conference screen, he mumbled, "Yes, well, that was Glasgow."

"Sure, she murmured, squeezing his butt harder. "But you know what? Don't you think that you and I should have our own celebration down here?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, turning toward her. Her hand slipped away before they looked like anything other than a couple colleagues, enjoying a bottle of water together. His growing hardness suggested something else.

"Well, Alistair keeps some good Scotch in his office," the sexy redhead suggested, stepping close enough that her breasts pushed against his chest. "Come on. It might be our last chance for a while. Jeremy and I fly in the morning."

Just like that, Thomas thought. Their last chance "for a while." 

She pushed off the conference table, shielding them from the rest of the office with her body. Her hand snaked down to the seat of his pants, finding him throbbing. 

Yes, this is what he wanted. He'd earned it, after all, right? "Lead on," he grinned.

***

Erika took the half full glass of wine from Becky and placed it on the side table along with her own. "Tell me, honey. Did Pixie turn you on?" 

"Pixie…"

"Mmm," Erika softly murmured, reaching across to play with a button on Rebecca's pale blue blouse. The first two were already unbuttoned. Her deft fingers flicked the third open. "The first time she massaged me, she did the same. I came harder than I had in a long time. She's very skilled, don't you think?"

Becky's eyes gave away her arousal. The Swedish woman smiled. There was no doubt that the Brazilian woman had come there expecting to be seduced. She was almost begging for it. There was no need to take this slowly…

"And what about us," Erika continued, unfastening another button. Rebecca's tanned cleavage looked magnificent jutting from the semi-opened blouse. "You enjoyed our time in the Jacuzzi?"

The Brazilian woman nodded. Her breasts rose and fell in line with her excitement. The blush spreading up her beautiful face was so adorable. "I… I…"

"I know," Erika told her, softly running her fingertips across the tanned cleavage. "I know exactly how feel, honey. I know what you want. I know why you came here. And you want to know something, Becky?" 

She unfastened the final button and gently pulled the see-through blouse from those beautiful shoulders. The Brazilian's magnificent breasts spilled over the pink half-cup bra. Erika felt her moistness grow stronger.

"I'm going to make all of your dreams come true," she huskily breathed, comfortable that the twenty-two year old woman hadn't made a single move to object. Erika cupped her beautiful face. "You'd like that?"

Rebecca nodded, her eyes providing the doorway to her inner thoughts. 

The blonde gently pulled her prey's face so close that they could feel each other's hot breath. "Tell me," she encouraged, holding her glossy lips a fraction away from the panting beauty.

"Yes," Rebecca breathed, her voice little more than a soft whisper. She felt dizzy. Dizzy with arousal. Erika's ruby red lips were beckoning her. The Swede was even more beautiful, vibrant, than she'd ever seen her. Her freckles were so sexy. So was that sultry mouth. She wanted to kiss those lips. Lick her way across those freckles. Take Erika's hand and guide it between her legs. Feel the woman's fingers inside her again. But she couldn't. Not yet.

The Brazilian woman had to wait until Erika confirmed the next steps. Her teacher was in control. She felt a sudden heat consume her as the blonde's lips met hers. Surely she wasn't cumming? Without even touching herself? 

Erika's hands left he cheeks and slid behind Rebecca's back. She unhooked the flimsy bra as she kissed the hot beauty. Her captive's mouth was eager. Her tongue was soft and wet. Their noses nuzzled. The blonde flicked her tongue along the Brazilian woman's lips, but when Becky moved to capture it in her mouth, she retreated again. One step at a time…

"You know what really turns me on?" Erika whispered, her hands softly stroking those magnificently full swells. The bullet hard dark nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked. "The idea of a straight woman going down on me."

Rebecca's large brown eyes widened. Another orgasmic ripple ran through her. She'd thought she was here to be seduced but the blonde clearly had other ideas. She wanted Becky to service her. And the Brazilian wanted to serve…

"Just imagine," Erika's seductively hypnotic voice continued. "A straight woman would be a little unsure at first, a little clumsy perhaps, needing me to tell her just what I like. You want to, honey?" 

Becky's arousal threatened to overwhelm her. She was close to being drowned in a tide of desire that was directing her destiny. This sexy woman wanted to receive, and she so wanted to give.

Then Erika was rising from the couch, a graceful gazelle. She held Becky's gaze, loving these games: fucking her mind before the actual physical sex. 

With a flick of her fingers, Erika pulled loose the tie holding her wraparound dress together. Shrugging it from her shoulders, the light garment floated downwards to her feet. 

Becky's wide brown gaze covered the beautiful body like a computer analysing a set of statistics. The sexy freckles that dotted the Swedish woman's face ran all the way down to her cleavage. Her tanned swells were as full and as enticing as her own, with the high dark nipples already erect. And that smooth pussy was already glistening in anticipation…

"You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen," Becky said, feeling a calmness engulf her like a cooling wind.

"Present company excepted," Erika smiled, sliding back down onto the couch, opposite the Brazilian woman. Sexily hoisting one leg up and along the backrest, she lazily trailed the other down onto the carpet. Her toenails were painted a sexy shade of red.

With an aroused sigh, the blonde sunk back into the soft cushions. Her hand slid across her full breasts. Onto her hard flat stomach. Down between her erotically parted thighs. Slowly, her fingers caressed her smooth mound, sliding between her deliciously wet labial lips.

Rebecca seemed mesmerized as Erika stroked her wetness. "It's time to indulge, Becky," she whispered to the woman sitting not more than a foot away on the couch. "Take your time and enjoy." 

Rebecca didn't hesitate. Her naked breasts swayed provocatively as she sat forward. She moved onto all fours like a curious cat, leaning down to the earthy richness awaiting.

Erika's hand reached out, her fingers finding and encouragingly caressing Rebecca's silken hair with a soothing gentleness. "Taste me," she whispered.

Rebecca hesitated. Just for a second. Her heart was pumping. No matter how much she'd thought of this, being inches away from Erika's glistening pink folds was even more exciting than she'd anticipated. 

Her eyes flickered upwards to meet the blonde's gaze. When the Swede so sexily nodded, she lowered her head. Her tongue lapped along the sexy offering in front of her.

"That's it," Erika moaned. She stroked behind the woman's ear with the edge of her thumb. "Go ahead, Becky. Taste me."

The raven-haired beauty's first lick of another woman was hesitant but explorative. She drank in the heady aroma, savouring the juicy texture of another woman's clean-shaven pussy. "Yes, g—good… right there!" Her confidence grew by the second.

Erika shuddered as the twenty-two year old ran her tongue over her clit. Her body bucked a little. Becky felt it and licked again. "Oh, yesss. Harder!" The Swede's groan encouraged her further. The sexy woman laced her fingers through her dark, wavy hair.

When Erika bucked her hips forward, Becky lapped at her faster, like a dog taking water from its bowl. This was her bowl, except it contained syrupy nectar that tasted even better than she'd anticipated. It felt wonderful, as if her tongue was delivering tiny pulses of current. 

The Swedish woman's ripeness filled her mouth in a way that no fine wine could ever have done.

"Oh, God, that's good, honey." Erika's husky voice was muffled by the way her taut thighs closed around the Brazilian's ears. The hands gripped her hair more tightly as her shapely ass lifted from the cushions.

Becky hooked her arms around Erika's legs, forcing her head deeper between the trembling thighs. She was captivated by the new experience. Lost in the exquisite pleasuring she was giving. This was completely different to pleasuring a man… Softer. Tastier. The blonde's juices were flowing more freely and she wanted them all. 

"You're made for this," Erika grunted, dragging the sexy woman's head upwards. "We're going to do so much, honey, but if you don't stick those fucking fingers inside me, I'll scream…"

"Like this?" Becky sexily grinned, easing one finger into Erika's hot core. 

The blonde's mouth dropped open. "Uhhh…" she growled, her eyes rolling back. Becky slipped a second in with the first. The blonde's hips rose. Becky didn't need any further instruction. She curled her fingers at the same time as she circled Erika's clit with her tongue. 

"I'm close," the blonde instantly moaned, using the sexy young girl's head as leverage to hump her hips up even faster. The muscles in her neck tightened. "Yes! Yes! YES!"

When she came, her orgasm went off like a depth charge exploding inside her.

***

Sally pulled Thomas into Alistair's office. They wouldn't have much time, but it would be long enough. The door had barely shut behind them before she pushed him against the wall, her hands tearing open his trousers. That wicked smile of hers met his gaze as she dropped down to her knees. 

Her slim fingers were just long enough to wrap all the way around his thick girth. Her wet mouth descended on him. A lustful groan rewarded her as his hands gripped her hair. "Getting to be a habit, don't you think?" she mumbled, meeting his eyes.

Holding his gaze, she jammed her lips over his hard shaft. Thomas couldn't speak. Even the child-like grin she flashed him was sexy. When his groans deepened, Sally diverted her attention to his heavy balls. She sucked, one then the other into her talented mouth. His groan was louder.

"Not yet, baby," she insisted, pulling away and returning her attention to his stiff manhood. With a throaty growl, she took him as deep into her mouth as she could.

"Oh fuck, yes…" Thomas grunted, running his fingers through her red hair again. His hands pulled her harder against him, clenching his teeth as the sensation built. Another minute of this and he'd be through. 

She choked a little as he shoved himself deeper into her throat, but only for a moment. Then her lustful eyes were staring up, telling him there wasn't anything she couldn't cope with.

"Not yet," she told him, pulling off until just the tip was in her mouth. She tongued the purple crown, toying with him as that mischievous gaze of hers danced into his. "You've got to fuck me yet..."

"Now," he grunted, unable to contain himself.

His hands dug under her armpits and yanked her to her feet. One of his hands dragged her left leg up to his waist. His fingers ran across her smooth thigh as she wrapped it around his shirt covered back. His other hand dragged her thong to one side and with one hard thrust he was inside her. It took a couple more pushes before he was all the way, pinning her back against the wall. 

"Oh, yeah," Sally moaned. "That's it, Thomas. Fuck me like you mean it, baby…"

He thrust hard. Everything was frantic, desperate. Using and abusing Alistair's office only added to the moment. His sweating head dropped onto her shoulder as he pumped his hips. Her fingertips gripped his pistoning butt, encouraging the raw, basic fucking. Two animals going at one another.

Thomas pummelled her like a stormy tide battering the rocks. With a growl, he pulled her right leg to join the other around his back. His thighs ached as he held her and he widened his stance to keep the redhead upright.

"Oh, yeah," she growled, biting down on his earlobe.

The pain made the fair-haired man fuck harder, thudding her against the wall. 

"Someone will hear," he grunted, the noise alarming him. Glancing around, his lust-fuelled eyes searched for an alternative position.

"Don't stop… don't stop… don't stop…" Sally gasped, her body beginning to shudder. Her insides clenched him like a vice when she came, her fingers leaving a mark as she dug them into his sweating neck.

Thomas paused for breath as she shuddered, an engine refuelling. Then her hips began to move again, slapping herself against him as she encouraged him to the finishing line. It caught him by surprise. 

"Ngh…" he moaned, giving in to the inevitable. 

He came like a bull, firing one bullet after another into her willing body. Eventually, he caught his breath, unclenched his teeth and opened his bleary eyes. Sally was grinning at him.

"Nice send off…" she huskily told him, pulling his head to hers for a final kiss.

***

The soft, wet sounds of their kissing filled the room. Their curvy, naked bodies twisted and writhed against one another, slick with sweat and each other's juices. Erika cupped Becky's jutting young breasts as their kisses became deeper. More passionate. She dug her knee into the sweltering space between the Brazilian's thighs as she dragged her own sex against the girl's silky skin.

Drawing out of the girl-on-girl kiss for a moment, she fed her breast to Becky as she surveyed her conquest in the mirrors. The dark-skinned South American's body was nearly perfect. The muscles of her back rippled as she bent low to suckle. Dimples formed just above that full and hard ass. And those legs…




Politics Ch. 09



Retiring to her bedroom had been a natural step after their sex on the couch. Not just because it was more conducive to a day of lovemaking. But also because of the hidden cameras.

This would make a wonderful addition to her collection. Perhaps the best…

Becky had cum several times already. So had Erika. The Brazilian beauty had proven to be just as uninhibited as she'd anticipated. She'd been everything Guus had told her she would be. Wild, abandoned, sexy and unrestrained.

Erika rolled one of those mouthwatering nipples in her mouth, tugging on it with her teeth. Her soft lips were a vacuum of delight. She sucked the hard bud inside her mouth and her experienced tongue flicked around the sensitive nipple. 

Becky's low moans filled the room. It hadn't taken the Swedish woman long to discover that the Brazilian loved having her breasts pleasured.

"Ready for another?" Erika suddenly asked, pushing the dark haired woman flat on her back. Before Becky could react, she was licking her way down the girl's trembling body. One hand pushed a leg across the bed, opening the dark-haired beauty to her touch. In an instant, she lowered her head. 

Becky's aroused clit was already standing at attention, parting the swollen folds of her shaven sex. Within an instant, Erika had it in her wet mouth, devouring the slippery bud.

The twenty-two year old cried out, bucking her hips up into the beautiful face. Her lover's sharp fingertips dug into her ass. The feel of Erika's mouth was intoxicating. Becky tangled her hands in the wavy blonde hair as her orgasm closed in. Her head thrashed back and forth. This was too much!

"Open your eyes, honey," she heard a whisper. 

It wasn't the first time Erika had issued that instruction. Becky followed the Swedish woman's gaze across to their reflection in the mirrors. The beautiful blonde woman was holding the dark haired woman's legs apart and sliding her tongue up and down the length of her opening. The younger woman began to shudder. It was as if she was taking part in her own porn movie.

The delicious pressure built in her body as Erika's talented mouth paid homage. The sight enhanced the building sensations. She thrust her heaving breasts upwards. Her ass rose from the bed. Her feet dug into the mattress. Her fingers clawed at the white, silky bedsheets. She howled…

For a few moments, darkness surrounded her.

"I haven't used this in a while," she eventually heard a distant voice say.

Forcing her aroused eyes open, the electricity hit her. Erika was leaning against a mirror. Becky saw two lovers, both the same. The real and the reflected. Both had the same voluptuous bodies. The same look of lust in their blue eyes. And the same flesh-coloured strap-on dildo thrusting from each groin.

Becky felt her body begin to overheat as Erika's tongue invaded her mouth. They French kissed as the blonde woman began to rub that plastic cock against her wetness.

"Turn around, Becky," the soft Scandinavian voice instructed. "On your knees, honey. Let's start with doggy."

The Brazilian woman felt another surge of wetness as she swung into position, watching her lewd surrender reflected in a mirror.

Then Erika's hands were on her hard body, her fingertips running along her upraised ass. "Oh, fuck…"

"Exactly," the blonde's husky voice responded. She lined herself up and pushed in easily. The first couple of soft strokes allowed the young woman time to adjust to the thickness. 

"Oh, fuck…" Becky groaned again. For some reason, Guus Kessen flashed into her mind. An image of the Dutchman fucking her doggy style over his desk. She whimpered. 

Erika smiled at the noise. She breathed in the heady scent of lust through her nostrils. God, she loved the control and power a dildo gave her… "You little slut. You love this, don't you? Getting fucked?"

Grasping Becky's slim hips, she gradually built up the pace. With each heave forward, she yanked the beauty hard against her. The strap-on dug into her clit with exquisite pressure. Being able to pleasure them both at the same time came with practice.

"Erika…" Becky groaned again, feeling yet another orgasm begin to bubble.

The Swedish woman tore her gaze away from the mirrors. She'd just have to watch the whole session again on video tonight. Her hand roughly pushed Becky's head down into the fluffy white pillow, her fingers around the slender neck holding her there. She sat up on her haunches as she humped the girl between her legs. Her hips slid back and forward in perfect rhythm.

"You like that, honey?" she asked, her voice little more than a hoarse gasp. The Brazilian beauty bowed against the bed, crushing her full tits beneath her as she tried to keep her ass raised.

"Yesssss!" Becky hissed into the pillow, lost in a lust-fuelled haze.

"Harder?" Erika asked but didn't wait for the reply. Her legs strained and ached as she drove the cock in and out of the squirming woman. She sat up even more, her thighs straining as they held the awkward pose. She put her weight behind each hefty lunge, pushing off with her toes.

"Ah! Ah! AHH!" the brunette growled. Long bursts of Portuguese filled the air. Her long legs widened as she pumped her ass backwards, desperately trying to keep up with the other women. Reaching between her legs, her fingers found her clit just as another orgasmic tide rolled in.

This one dragged her out into a sea of dark. 

***

Katie's whole world was crumbling around her. She'd decided to resign from the practice, although the decision wasn't an easy one. 

Yes, she was the largest revenue earner in the business—which just happened to make her the highest income producer in the whole country. She was bloody good at her job, even if she said so herself. Okay, she had a lot to learn on the commercial side. Brian had already demonstrated that. But she was learning…

So why resign? She'd justified it to herself over and over again.

It didn't all reverberate around Alistair, of course, though it was her interaction with him had brought it out into the open. She'd demonstrated terrible judgement. It was a fundamental mistake for any psychiatrist. How could she have been so wrong about the politician as a person? 

She shouldn't have gotten involved with him in first place. She shouldn't have gone to Scotland with him. And she most certainly shouldn't have let herself be seduced by Erika!

What kind of psychiatrist was she to be fooled so easily?

In some ways, she could have forgiven herself for all that. She didn't pretend to be infallible after all. Yet there was another factor. She'd fucked a patient! Yes, she tried to deny that he actually was a patient. Came up with all sorts of excuses for herself. They were just that—excuses. Fucking a patient was just about the worst crime a psychiatrist could commit.

Just about…

Had it not been for her other secret. One that was even worse. She, Katie Nichols, made a point of seeking out strangers, taking them somewhere, and sucking them off. That Tico on her Prom night had a lot to answer for. And now, it appeared that her obsession knew no bounds.

She'd allowed herself to be fucked! In a public place! By a stranger!! And worst of all, she had to admit that it had been so much more exciting and fulfilling. Would she do it again? Her thighs warmed at the thought.

What the hell was happening to her? Had Alistair and Erika corrupted her? Or was it just a natural extension to the depravity that was ever present inside her? Just imagine that finding its way into the open. Brian was so protective of the firm's reputation—he'd have a heart attack.

That was, if he didn't sack her first. He'd been annoyed enough at her accompanying Alistair to Glasgow. How would he feel had he known what had happened there? Or how she'd compounded her sexual errors through this morning's encounter with the Indian stranger! 

He'd blow a gasket. 

Or had he heard something? Was that why she'd been summoned to his office? As soon as she'd received the message, she'd thought things through and had come to the conclusion that she had no option. Resignation was the decent thing.

She'd sat in the Senior Partner's office for some time before he'd finished his call. They'd been interrupted within a minute of her arrival. An important client with a complaint. He'd handled it with his usual calm demeanour. Would he handle her the same way?

The constant cups of black coffee this afternoon had managed to negate the effect of her thirty-six hours of drinking. Or was that two and a half days worth? She still had a hangover of course. And her headache was either tension or alcohol induced. But at least she'd got herself in shape to handle the conversation. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, the frown remaining on his face even as he swung towards her in his chair. "I just had to take that call. But I'm pleased you were able to call into the office, Katie. I know you took a couple of days unexpected holiday but this just couldn't wait."

I bet it couldn't, she thought. She'd never seen the Scot do anything but smile when he saw her. His frown was an indication that he had bad news on his mind. It was just as she'd expected. Well, she'd beat him to the punch…

"Brian, I have something to say—"

"Me too," he interrupted, standing up.

Oh God. He never talked to her standing up!

"If I can just—" she began, only for his upraised hand to stop her.

"I think the youngsters say 'age before beauty' or something like that," he interrupted again. "In this case, as Senior Partner, let's say I'm pulling rank."

She gave it one final try. "Brian—" 

It was doomed to failure.

"I've had a long think about things while you've been away," he told her, pacing across the floor and back before taking his seat again. "And I reached a decision. One I've been thinking about for some time. It's what happened with Alistair Brinkley-Jones that forced it to the forefront of my mind. I have no choice, when I think about it."

Oh, God, here it came! She had to get in first, even if just to save her dignity. "Brian, listen to me—"

"Oh, I will. But not until I'm finished, Katie. I've analysed the whole Brinkley-Jones thing in my mind, and I've come to one conclusion. It's a conclusion I've shared with the other partners. Maybe surprisingly, they all agree."

Shared it with the other partners? That was a step too far. Surely he could have kept this between the two of them? She had a good mind to tell him—

"The reason I referred Alistair to you," he went on, "is because I trusted you. I trusted you more than anyone else. What's happened subsequently has been unfortunate. To say the least. You and he are still seeing one another, I take it?"

She shook her head, holding back the tears. She wouldn't let him see her cry.

He pushed back in his seat and picked up a pencil, holding it horizontally in his two hands. "Well, that's something, I guess. And actually makes this decision seem even more appropriate."

Katie stood up. She'd had enough of this shit. Maybe she'd find another bar? Another man? "Brian, if you're going to sack me then—"

The look of shock on his face told her she'd misjudged the situation.

"Sack?" The frown disappeared and his loud peal of laughter gave her goosebumps. "Whatever are you talking about? I decided that if you were good enough for me to believe you could help Alistair, you were certainly too good to remain in a junior position. You're now a Main Board Partner. Congratulations."

It was the brunette's turn to be shocked. Was that thumping her heart? Her body was trembling. "Main Board Partner…"

"At thirty," he said. "Unheard of. But you deserve it, Katie, and I know I was too hard on you over the Glasgow thing." He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand as if trying to hide the fact he'd apologised. "Though I have to confess I am pleased it hasn't gone any further between you and Alistair. He wasn't right for you, you know."

She smiled to herself. He didn't know the half of it. "I agree."

"Yes, well," he mumbled, standing up again. "Enough of that. I wanted to tell you of our decision on your return, but of course you'd taken the holiday. Most unusual, by the way. I like prior notice. But that's why I asked Diana to get the message to you and see if you were available today. I wanted to tell you personally."

"Brian," she panted, trying to catch her breath. "I can't believe it. I don't know what to say except that I'm very grateful."

"Good," he told her with that grin she was more familiar with. "And I'm hoping you're free tonight, too."

"Tonight?"

"Has to be tonight," he explained. "Damien and Bartholomew are flying to Dubai in the morning. So I suggest you hurry home to get ready. We're meeting all the other partners at eight for a celebratory dinner."

***

"Welcome back," Erika murmured, leaning down and planting a seductive kiss on the Brazilian woman's soft lips. The strap on induced orgasm had been so intense Rebecca had blacked out. The timing was perfect. "I have a surprise for you."

"Surprise?" 

"Mmm," the blonde woman murmured, gently stroking a few strands of dark hair away from the young beauty's brown eyes. "You told me you wanted to experience everything with me, remember?"

Had she? Becky couldn't recall. But it seemed a good idea. It seemed a great idea! The Swedish woman's hands were constantly moving, cupping her breasts, tugging on her nipples, tracing circles across her stomach, drawing patterns on her inner thighs. When they stroked along her wet folds, Becky lifted her hips.

"You mean there's something we haven't done yet," she jokingly teased, her hands pulling the blonde's head to hers for a deeper kiss.

"Oh, honey, you have no idea," Erika softly breathed into the twenty-two year old woman's mouth. "For example, you remember that you told me you haven't had a threesome? Even in Brazil?"

Becky felt her body jerk with excitement. She knew instantly what Erika's surprise was. Or rather, who it was. Guus Kessen! 

It had to be. The hands pushing her legs apart confirmed that. They weren't Erika's hands—the Swede had those on her tits again. She kept her eyes closed as the blonde's soft lips found hers. The hands opened her legs wider and a cock—a delightfully hard, warm cock—was gently rubbing itself against her wetness.

She knew this was wrong as clearly as she understood she was powerless to resist. She'd told herself no more men. Erika, yes. Maybe even Pixie again. But the Dutchman was part of her past. She owed Thomas that.

Then why was she allowing him to raise her hips? To pull her onto him? Despite his size, she was so wet that he slid in easily. It took three passes for him to sink balls deep. She tightened her internal muscles around him like a glove.

"Such a good girl," Erika whispered as she planted kisses along Becky's neck. Had the brunette resisted she'd have told her about Thomas and Sally. But that piece of information could be kept in store for another day.

The dark-haired beauty grunted with arousal. The contrast of the softness of the Swedish woman's lips and the hardness of the cock that was slowly fucking her was sublime. She raised her ass and locked her ankles around the man's back. Guus was surprisingly gentle, far more than he'd been in his office.

The blonde's head was sliding downwards to find her breasts. Her lips began to do wonderful things to her nipples. "Look," she murmured, reaching a hand upwards to turn the young woman's face towards their mirrored reflections. 

Becky gasped, her wide eyes staring at the sensual combination of black and tanned flesh. 

"This is Alistair," she heard the Scandinavian voice murmur. "My boyfriend."

Erika pulled away from Becky's aroused breasts and dragged Alistair's face to hers. "That's right, isn't it?" she asked him with a mischievous smile.

Her earlier telephone conversation with her ex-boyfriend had seen a few home truths spoken. What she hadn't expected was for him to be so full of contrition. He'd made a big mistake. He'd realised his true feelings for her. He'd missed her. He wanted to make it work…

There was a lot more talking to be done, of course. It would start once Becky left them. That would be much later. Until then, they'd return to their old ways and enjoy the Brazilian woman's hot body. Making love together to some innocent always seemed to add an extra element of arousal, after all.

What Erika did know was that Alistair had convinced her to give him the opportunity to try again. After all, it wasn't everyday someone asked a girl to marry them!! Especially when they were Prime Minister. Plus the small matter of being heir to a fortune. And there was no reason that her relationship with Guus couldn't continue on the side. A girl couldn't have too many friends!

"Hello baby," the black man grunted at Becky's reflection in the mirror, pulling her legs up and across his broad thighs as he began to increase the pace. This one was hotter than usual, no doubt about it. The way she undulated back into his rhythm had him sweating buckets… 

Becky felt her orgasm begin to burst. His muscular black physique had a sexy sheen to it. From her angle, she could see his cock continually sink and emerge. Sink and emerge. Her breath away came shallow. The dark monster of a cock was relentless. All she could do was hump back against him.

Some strands of sweaty hair caught on her glossy lips as her head bounced from side to side. Her face contorted in lustful bliss. Her bouncing breasts heaved and her body twisted. Despite the wonderful orgasms Erika had already given her, this one exploded like a depth charge deep in her body.

"Oh, yes," she heard Erika murmuring somewhere in the distance, though strangely her tongue was still licking across her breasts and nipples. Becky felt a second climax follow the first. 

"Well, well," the blonde's distant voice was huskily whispering as her hands continued to cup and knead the recovering woman's perfect tits. "I see you like my boyfriend. How about thanking me?"

She licked her lips as she swung a leg across the prone Brazilian. 

Becky's heart trembled as she understood what was happening. She weakly raised her hands to steady Erika's hips and took the glistening pussy into her eager mouth. Alistair's pumping eased as she raised her head a fraction. Her tongue flicked upwards.

"Oh, yesssss, good girl," Erika hissed, resting her hands on the bed behind her. 

Alistair leant forward and the Swedish beauty turned her head to meet his in a passionate kiss. Neither moved, both revelling in the way the Brazilian beauty's mouth and sex sucked them both deeper inside.

"Told you I had a surprise," Erika murmured, though Becky was unable to hear the words. The spread thighs covering her ears cut off all sound. Not that it mattered, the Brazilian was lost in her own lust-fuelled world.

Erika came first, writhing on the end of the other woman's flapping tongue. She drowned the dark-haired woman's willing face in her juices. 

"Ah, fuck!" she heard Alistair bellow, although she couldn't get her eyes open in time to witness his release. She felt it through the girl, though. Through the way her tongue went rigid, spearing deep inside her pussy. Through the way she blew a moan across her quivering sex.

When Erika was able to open her eyes at last, Alistair was pulling out, leaving a trail of pearly fluids. It was a mouth-watering sight, seeing her lover's cum oozing from this vixen's smooth sex. She leaned forward and captured the soft flesh in her mouth, lapping at the delicacy the pair had prepared.