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Body Politic

By: YKN4949



Chapter 1: Just a Matter of Public Policy

"Hey Jack, you see we got the fiery dyke back again for another week," I heard the voice behind me and knew without looking it was the sweaty guy from the local paper with the big gut and the comb over. I could just sense the way he was sprawled out in the press room, his sweaty arms hung over the chairs on either side of him, looking smug and fat. 

Since I could already see the walrus, I chose not to look at him. I kept my eyes to the front of the room where the dais was located, waiting for the Mayor's Communication Director, or maybe even the Mayor herself, to arrive and begin the press conference. Nonetheless, I felt my fingers grasp my pen a little tighter and noticed my heart beating a little faster. A whole week in town and I was still the object of derision, it would seem.

"Well lucky us," Jack, a reporter from the state capital said and the clucked his tongue, "Now I hate to correct you there Pete, but while our new colleague is certainly fiery, I mean right down to her hair, I don't know if dyke is the correct word. I think they call the manly ones dykes. This one, I am guessing she is a lipstick lesbian, better known as 'a true shame.' She's about worth trying to convert. Though, if she had a girlfriend around, I wouldn't mind watchin'. With that said, I hope she grills the mayor's people again on the gay marriage ordinance. I feel like that dead horse could use a couple more whacks." Pete and Jack, the good ol' boys just covering local politics, laughed together, knowing that I could hear them. I knew that there wasn't anything I could do that would be constructive; they were just trying to be trolls. But a week of this had been enough. I turned quickly while they were laughing.

"The term for what I am is not 'Lipstick Lesbian' you stupid fuck. I think the crude, shame-inducing slur you're looking for is 'Shemale.' So why don't you shut up so I can prepare my questions on the gay marriage ordinance for the mayor." I said and I turned around quickly, not waiting to see the looks on their faces.

I already knew what the face looked like. As an attractive non-operative transwoman who was extremely open about my identity, I had seen the complex mix of confusion, disgust, and arousal before. Oh, just so we are clear here, when I write that I am attractive, I am not (just) tooting my own horn, I am trying to explain why my identity is so troubling to queer-bashing men. 

I am relatively short at 5'5 and I only weigh about 110lbs. I have very long dark red hair (I was 28 at the time and I had been growing it continuously since I was 18) that I wear in a long ponytail down my back. I have wide green eyes, very thick lips (the lower one pierced on the left side), small ears, an upturned nose (with a stud), and a light complexion. I wear a 32-B bra, have a tight, compact body (with a belly button piercing), lithe legs, and very small feet. I have thin arms, the right one has a sleeve of vaguely floral tattoos (I also have a tattoo on my left thigh of a butterfly and a honey bee on my left foot). I guess I look like the slightly skanky bad girl that the straight-laced type of guys fantasize about when they are alone. I guess when then realize that I also have a 5-inch cock (also with a stud) it sort of messes with their minds. Although that day (and every day for the past week) I was dressed conservatively with a gray pencil skirt a red blouse, and a gray jacket that covered up most of my arm tattoo.

"Well I guess you hope the ordinance passes now," I heard Pete say, "then you can go about converting the shemale." He started laughing

"Fuck off," Jack said, a little discomfort in his voice now, which I was happy to have implanted. I wasn't here to make people comfortable. In fact, the two local rubes were right about one thing, I was here to talk about the "gay marriage ordinance." Although, that characterization was, at best, misleading. I had left L.A. a week and a half earlier to cover a local ordinance that would require employers to provide the same benefits they provided to married employees to employees who had completed same-sex commitment ceremonies (verified by notarized certificate). (I won't tell you the city, let's just say it isn't big enough to have professional sports teams but it is big enough that everyone in America has at least heard of it). 

At the time I was working for a website that covered news stories important to the LGBTQ community. When I'd heard that the city in question was considering this ordinance I was intrigued. Then I heard that four of the ten members of City Council were solid yeses, three others were on the fence leaning yes (including a Republican) and that the Republican mayor was threatening to veto the measure. I knew I had to be there and cover it. 

I'd flown in the week before and been desperately trying to get answers to my questions ever since I got there. The first week, things had not gone well. Initially, they'd refused to give me a press credential, claiming that the site I worked for was not a legitimate news outfit. After threatening a lawsuit, I was finally allowed into the press conference where various local elected officials pretended that I wasn't raising my hand when it came time for questions. On top of that indignity, there were the Jack's and Pete's of the world. I'd taken the weekend to relax in my hotel room (a suite no less, if in a part of town that rolled up the streets at 5:05) and now it was the start of a new week and I felt my hurt pride adding to the righteous indignation I'd already felt as soon as I'd heard about this story.

"Alright, the Mayor will be arriving shortly. She will be taking questions for no more than 15-minutes, Thank you," My head shot up as I heard the voice. It was the communication's director. This was good, I'd only been allowed into one press conference last week when the Mayor had actually taken questions. She hadn't called on me, but I figured: another day, another chance. I folded my lip ring into my mouth, hoping to prevent her from seeing it, maybe making her more amenable to hearing what I had to say. I grabbed my notebook with my handful of scrawled notes and felt my adrenaline start to rush.

In a few moments, the door behind the podium opened up. The first person through the door was someone I recognized. It was the Mayor's personal assistant or aide or whatever, her name was Hena something. Hena Dutta I believe. I was always surprised when I saw her walking near the Mayor. One does not often associate the Republican Party with beautiful, young, Indian college girls, but that was what Hena was. She was a tall girl, maybe 5'9 and very slim. I write girl, but she was probably 21 or so. She had long dark hair and the most beautiful, even, dusky-colored skin I'd ever seen. She had enormous almond colored and shaped eyes and perfect teeth. She looked like a Bollywood star, complete with medium-sized perky breasts, a tight butt, and long legs (though those were particularly obscured by the unimaginative pants suits she wore every day). 

After Hena entered the room she sort of shuffled off to the side behind the podium and looked out at crowd. After a moment, the Mayor appeared in the doorway. Mayor Sara Barker was every bit the youngish Republican, female pol. I mean, if you looked at her on the street, the first thing you would think would be "that chick voted for George W. Bush twice and is still proud of it." She was blonde (of course) with incredible blue eyes, perfect teeth, and flawless white skin. She was a college cheerleader and it was clear that she put a lot of time and effort in maintaining her youthful looks even if she was now 42 years old. Her breasts were exceptionally large, but the rest of her body was very slim. She was short in person at around 5'4 but she looked taller on camera. She always wore snappy red or blue dresses that accentuate her still youthful curves and her round ass. I wondered if the fact that she had her husband (a real estate developer) had never had any kids explained how she kept it so tight. Hey, she might've been the enemy, but credit where credit was due.

"Okay everyone," she said in her breathy, sunny voice, "Thanks for making it to the Monday morning press conference. I have meetings today about development on the Johnson Street corridor and another with some local girl scouts, so I only have about 15 minutes. I don't have anything in particular I want to talk about, but I am ready for questions." My hand shot into the air.

"Yeah Pete," she said pointing to my old friend. I knew she always called on a local guy first, but I had to raise my hand anyway.

"Do you think that the permitting situation for the Johnson Street development can be handled by the Mayor's office or will you be coordinating with Public Works?" Pete asked and I rolled my eyes. Heavy-hitting, investigative stuff wasn't really Pete's deal. He'd asked once last week why the mayor had such a good rapport with voters. Seriously: what a tool.

"Well as you know, I abhor government red tape, I think we can solve this in a way that involves government as little as possible, with that said, the issue does not so much involve the Public Works department as it does..." by now I could barely stand to hear what she was saying anymore. I just listened to her drone, waiting for a break in the mundane details of city management to raise my hand again.

"Thanks that helps," Pete said, making some notes. My hand shot into the air again. This time she called on someone from a national news network and I prayed that he would ask about the ordinance, something I could piggyback on. I was disappointed when he asked about something related to a local university's football team. I looked down at my watch, seeing the second tick away. She said 15 minutes, and we were already 10 minutes into the conference and she'd answered two questions. I began to strategize about what I'd do if I couldn't ask her questions today. But none of my options seemed right. I realized I was too busy being worried about time and started listening to the mayor again

"And I think that Coach Cruz made an excellent point in his press conference yesterday. If that woman did not want to have group sex with the offensive line, why was she in the locker room to begin with?" she asked with a hint of disgust. Ah sports! Wholesome fun it seemed. Wonder why I never got into it?

"I believe she was just an 18 year old and an athletic trainer. Her doctors said..." The reporter pressed. The mayor clearly didn't want anything to do with this toxic line of questioning and I saw her look about frantically.

"Any other questions?" I knew it was now or never. She was off balance and would respond to anything that wasn't related to the football team. I didn't raise my hand this time; I just stood up and started asking questions.

"Mayor Barker, Heidi Drake from QueerWire," I said and I saw her actually wince, "In light of the wide support for Resolution B in the public at large, how do you justify your continued insistence to veto the measure if passed by the city council." Mayor Barker gave me a look that indicated she knew she'd jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"Well, beyond the obvious moral issue," she said, making my teeth grate, "I think this is a financial issue. Our city is not exactly swimming in tax revenue and increased benefits..."

"We are not talking about increased benefits. We are talking about extending the same benefits to everyone," I interrupted. I wasn't going to let her create these sort of false-rational arguments.

"Please let me finish my answers," the mayor said coldly. She gave me an injured looked and I could feel some of the local reporters reflexively sympathize. Our pretty lady mayor is being bullied by the big city outsider. I didn't care, "The point I was trying to make is that it really is a moral issue. I strongly believe that God designed men to be the head of a household and that a wife should be his helper. Now, that can take different forms in a modern marriage, but those are the essential pieces. But, even if that weren't the case, I would still oppose this measure because doing so saves the taxpayers money." She said and acted as though that were an actual policy argument. She turned to ask someone else for a question. But that wasn't nearly enough, I spoke again.

"But several polls show that the taxpayers in this city believe that their dollars should go to benefits for same-sex couples. So really, it isn't about protecting the taxpayers. It is about enforcing your moral code on everyone else," I said. 

"Again with the interruptions," the Mayor said, shaking her head, "Listen, I explained my position very calmly and politely. It seems that you don't like to play by the rules. Which I suppose is typical. You work for a 'publication' called QueerWire, so you apparently believe that rules, whether set by man or by God, do not apply to you. And that is fine; you don't have to believe that, it is a free country. But the citizens of this city elected me for two reasons. One, because they wanted the city's fiscal house put in order after 8 years of Mayor Carter and two, because they believe in my strong moral convictions. On this particular issue I feel that I get to prove to the voters that they made the right choice on both counts. Thank you for your questions."

"Stop trying to be cagey and answer the goddamn questions I ask," I said, feeling the adrenaline running in my veins and my heart pounding like a hammer. I knew even as the words came out of my mouth that they were a mistake. There was a little bit of a murmur in the room and the Mayor shot me a look like I'd fucked her dog or something.

"I will not dignify such behavior with a response," the Mayor said after a moment. She sounded almost like her feelings were actually hurt. I could feel sympathy waving out to her in the room. I had been so gung-ho to start asking questions that I hadn't even really been prepared for her obvious head fakes. Now I looked like an asshole. I had to salvage something.

"But..." I started. But I felt someone tapping on my shoulder. I looked over and saw the Mayor aide, Hena, standing next to me. She quickly hissed into my ear.

"You failed to follow the proper protocol. The Mayor will no longer be answering your questions today. If you interrupt again, a police officer will escort you from the press room and you will not be permitted to attend any more press conferences," Hena said. She gave me a stern look that seemed to indicate that while she was young and foolish, someone with real power was putting words into her mouth. I shot her an evil glare, but I closed my mouth and sat down. They weren't going to get rid of me that easily.

But at that moment, the mayor finished her answer to another softball question and then turned and left. And just like that they were rid of me, easily.

Chapter 2: An Applied Tutorial on Power 

"Listen, I am not trying to tell you that you're bad at your job or something," said a reporter, Kent, from a prestigious national newspaper (if there is such a thing anymore), "I am saying that you are going about it the wrong way. You can hit them hard on the page, but if you go into their arena, the place where they are in control, and try to take the fight to them on their terms, especially with a tiny outfit like QueerWire behind you, you are going to get smacked down."

I was in a bar about three blocks from the city hall. After the fiasco at the press conference, two other out-of-town reporters had invited me out for drinks. Kent was a middle-aged male reporter from D.C. who seemed full of conventional wisdom. The other was an almost-elderly woman from New York named Carol. It was apparent that they knew each other from way back and seemed comfortable together. They both seemed nice enough and were trying to help. But I was on my third drink and no longer in the mood for it.

"Well, with all due respect, I think you both have forgotten what this is all about," I said, noticing that I was slurring a bit. I wasn't much of a drinker, especially for a reporter.

"And what is that?" Kent asked, downing another shot. His face was red and it was clear he was not unused to drinks on a Monday night.

"It's about, you know, tipping things over. It's about making the comfortable uncomfortable and all of that. I mean, at least today, I tried to do that," I said. Oh yeah, when I drink I get self-righteous.

"Well you certainly did that," Carol said dryly.

"What do you mean?" I asked defensively. Carol spoke less than Kent, but when she did, it went right to the heart of things.

"I mean that you stomped in there like an elephant and made sure that everyone knew that you were there to do it. I mean you left your damned punk lip ring in for God's sake." I tongued my lip ring and wondered if she was right. Had I made tactical mistakes? But I had to bluster now, couldn't let her see that I knew she was right.

"Well someone has to. All of you other reporters, you were just happy to be stenographers, to write down whatever anyone said and just take it. I don't regret not doing that."

"Hey kid, I like you, but go to Hell," Kent said and then laughed. He clearly wasn't overly offended, but it was obvious he thought I was an idealistic kid, off base, not correct about the situation.

"You just think that because your right and you know it that if you spray it all out there people will just agree with you. That the power of your logic is like the gravity of the sun," Carol said, "But you're full of shit." She looked over at the bartender and ordered another glass of wine.

"If people get all the facts, they make the right decision," I said, "People who love one another deserve to be together. When people see injustice, they react."

"False," Kent said.

"People react to power. That's what you don't understand. What did you do today? You played into the mayor's hands. She got to show all of the people who already support her that she is a victim, she got to show those on the fence that the other side is rude and demanding, and she got to make you the sneering face of the opposition, and she can now use you against your allies. And you made her a bunch of money, because she is going to use your little exchange to raise money from the religious right. You might've spoke truth to power, but power doesn't care. You don't win by getting to the truth. You win by having more raw power and using it better. That is what you don't get," Carol said. I was starting to get annoyed and my well-lubricated sense of righteousness led me to squawk back. Again.

"What the Hell do you know about it?" I asked, "I've read some of your stuff. You write well, but you don't seem to be interested in winning or losing anything, you just write what you think will get eyeballs."

"Well there Edward R. Murrow, that happens to be the job," Kent said, reveling in my anger. It was clear he was just stirring the shit at this point.

"You are an activist-journalist," Carol said, not coming back at me with the same anger I did, "I don't think that ever works. Kent is right. Writing is the job, that's what I do. I am not telling you how to do my job. I don't give a damn about any policy in particular. I am too damn old to care about gay rights or anything else. I mean, I don't dislike gays in particular either. Based on who you work for, I assume you are gay," she stated.

"I..." I started to let her know I was transgendered pansexual (as I always did, got to fly the flag) but she put up her hand.

"And I don't care. That's not what I am in this for. For these sorts of issues and talking about 'people' and all that nonsense. But you clearly are. And I am telling you, I have seen activist-journalists before. If you keep running out there full-flame you are going to burn yourself out. And you won't accomplish anything. I am just trying to provide a word to the wise from someone who has seen it all."


Body Politic



"Why, if you don't care?" I asked, it seemed like a killer question.

"Activists give me something to write about and someone who really knows how to shake things up, not just shake her fist at power, she is going to provide a lot of interesting stories," she explained, "But you've got to learn how to play the game." And with that she took a deep drink of her new glass of wine. 

"Amen," Kent said, smiling a little in awe of Carol. I guess I was too. She was pushing all of my buttons, hitting all of my professional insecurities all at once. Was I doing anything good? Was it my role to try to do good? Could I sustain this kind of career if I didn't ever get a win? I had been working so hard all week to get any traction and it wasn't working. And it went beyond this week; it felt like Carol and sort of summed everything up. I slumped down at my stool at the bar. Well, if nothing else, Carol had given me a lot to think about. Kent said something to Carol and they spoke briefly, but I wasn't paying attention. I thought back again to my humiliation at the press conference. Maybe Carol wasn't as full of shit as I wanted to believe. I sat for a while, not listening to them, just thinking.

"What do I do?" I asked suddenly, interrupting their conversation, "It's all fine and well to tell me to get power and use it, but what does that mean?" They looked at me, confused, for a moment.

"Come honey, don't be naïve, you know that. You have a youthful pair of tits, you know how power works" Carol said with a knowing look.

"What does that mean?" I said, confused.

"It means that you find something that gives you leverage. Then you apply it," Carol said and downed the last of her wine.

* * * * *

About two hours later it was well past dark and I was stumbling a little down the street towards my hotel. Kent and Carol had called it a night and I had decided I had better leave as well. I hadn't had as much to drink as Kent, but certainly more than I usually did on a work night. Or a Friday for that matter. I thought back on my day, my thinking seemed to become clearer in my drunken state.

I hadn't really engaged with Carol and Kent that much after Carol had explained to me her concept of power. I had just sort of sat in the bar and considered it. I knew, to a certain extent, that she was right. Posting little bits of anger and outrage on the internet wouldn't get things changed. But I also didn't really know how one went about collecting leverage. It sounds easy in the abstract, but where did I start? As I walked back to my hotel, I continued to consider all I'd learned that day.

In order to get to my hotel, I had to walk past the city hall. As I moved in front of it, I stopped for a moment and looked up. It was a simple municipal building with a charming brick façade and a small dome at the top. It looked like the seat of local power that it was and I shook my head.

"Fuck you," I slurred a bit to myself. I don't know if I was talking to the mayor or to myself or what, but it felt nice to say. Then I was suddenly struck by another idea.

"You can't keep me out. You think you hold all the goddamn cards because you do, but I have just as much a right to be here as you," I said. It made sense at the time. But I decided I was going to go back into the press room, when I wasn't supposed to, and I was going to ask my questions again and I would stand there in the empty room and wait and see if I got a better answer than the one I got from the mayor. It might have been a totally empty gesture and it might not have made any difference, but at least it would make me feel good. Carol wouldn't have liked it.

I climbed up the stairs to the front door. Actually it was a bank of doors. I started with the farthest on the left but it was locked. Slowly, I worked my way down, checking each one. The farther I went, the less and less certain I was that I was going to find a door that would open. But finally, on the second to last door, as I gave an exceptionally hard pull, the door swung wide open.

I walked into the abandoned city hall, waiting for security guards or police officers to rush in at any moment and arrest me. But the building was still and silent. Several lights were on, but not many. I didn't even hear the sound of a janitor. It felt a little ominous now, and I stood for a moment in the reception area and just sort of soaked it in. Then I remembered why I was there.

The mayor's press room was on the third floor, the same floor as her office. I quickly walked over to the stairwell (wincing as my heels clicked on the marble floor) and started to make my way up. In a few minutes I was on the darkened third floor. I made my way over to the press room, the scene of my earlier misfortune. It felt suddenly drained of all power, like I was seeing it with its clothes off. It was dark and small and didn't feel at all like an intimidating arena that someone was trying to shut me out of.

I walked up to my seat from earlier in the day and stood in front of it. I looked up to the dais in front of the room. I took a deep breath and got all of my thoughts together. This was going to go exactly the way it was supposed to go this time. I opened my mouth to speak and...stopped. 

I heard something, I couldn't quite make out what it was. But I felt a prickle in my skin and a sense of nervousness I hadn't felt a moment before. I stopped moving and listened intently. For a moment there was absolute silence. I was about to start to move anyway, when I heard it again. Now that I was focusing I could tell it was laughter. Just a small amount of laughter. It was coming from the opposite side of the third floor.

At first I thought that the smartest plan would be to get out of the building. If someone were there who had the right to be there saw me, I could get into serious trouble. But, being a reporter, and a drunk one at that, my curiosity got the better of me. Who was in the building? Why? All thoughts about consequences for my actions flitted out of my head. I moved out into the hallway.

Now that I looked, I could see a light on at the end of the hallway, underneath a door. It was the mayor's office. The mayor was in and she was laughing about something. I wondered what it could possibly be. I started to slowly make my way across the floor, past offices and copy machines and the like. I walked past the little reception desk that sat directly in front of the mayor's office. I crept as quietly as humanly possible, but quickly as well. I felt my heart pounding. I don't know if I knew intuitively that something interesting was occurring or that I was just getting off on creeping around, but it was fun.

Finally, I made it up to the door. It was open the slightest crack, but at first I was afraid to look in, afraid that I would somehow block something and get notice. But I heard a strange sound. Not a laugh like before, but I muffled noise that was hard to place. I had to see what was causing it. I slowly slid around to the side of the door. I titled my head slightly and looked into the Mayor's heavily illuminated office and I saw...the Mayor and her aide Hena. Kissing passionately!

For a moment my head reeled. None of this made any sense! I could not be seeing this! But there it was, in front of me. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. But as I watched them, I began to feel... strange. Their kisses weren't just passionate, they were electrifying. The last conscious thing I remember doing was grabbing out my phone, clicking the video button and pointing it towards the action. After that all I could do was watch.

Mayor Barker...maybe I will just call her Sara for this, it will be a little awkward to refer to her by title...Sara and Hena were sitting on a couch in the mayoral office. It was directly in front of me, about fifteen feet away, from the opening of the door. There was a table in front of the couch with a bunch of papers scattered about it. There were two big bottles of diet cola sitting on top of the papers. It was clear that Sara and Hena had been working late into the night and were now doing a different sort of work.

Sara was still wearing the tight red dress and white blouse she'd worn earlier in the day, but her suit jacket was removed, showing how large her breasts were when not confined in fabric. Her knees were together and her feet spread apart on the floor and she was leaning over towards Hena. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders giving her a sexy, disheveled look. Her left arm was resting across the back of the couch and her right hand was resting on Hena's left thigh.

Hena was sitting right next to Sara. Unlike Sara, it looked like she had changed after work. The unflattering pants suit was nowhere to be found. Instead, Hena was wearing a pair of skin tight yoga pants (a particular favorite of mine) and an equally tight white t-shirt that fell just four inches or so below her breasts, exposing her slim mid-rift. Even from the distance I could see Hena's black bra showing through her t-shirt. Hena was barefoot and her legs were curled up underneath of her on the couch. Her left hand gently rested on Sara's waist and her right hand was placed lovingly on Sara's cheek.

And the women were kissing. Both of their eyes were closed and their lips were pressed together. I saw Hena's mouth open and Sara's did as well. Their tongues poured out of their own mouths and then into the space between them. I could hear the wet, enticing sounds of their tongues pressing together. I could hear a groan escape from Sara's mouth and saw Hena smile around their kiss as she heard it as well. Hena made her tongue rigid and I watched as Sara slowly started to bob her head back and forth on the tongue, sucking it gently.

While they were kissing, Hena's left hand began to move. First it started to press harder into Sara's waist. Then her fingers started to crawl up Sara's body. I saw her fingernails gently tickled the bottom of Sara's right breast. Sara opened her eyes and gently grabbed Hena's hand and moved it away from her breast. She let Hena's tongue fall from her mouth, but gave it one last quick lick.

"No, No, No," she said coyly, "You know what I need first." Hena bit her lower lip and nodded. Then the young aide jumped up from the couch and walked slinkily around the coffee table. She stopped facing right towards the door, her back to Sara. (At this point I absolutely froze, even holding my breath, as Hena was only about eight feet away and facing me, but I kept the camera running).

"Something like this?" Hena asked. She turned and looked over her shoulder for a moment. Sara leaned forward on the couch, putting her elbows on her knees. Her breasts squeezed together, pushing out her cleavage. Sara nodded and spoke in a baby-doll voice.

"Do what I like baby," Sara said. (Any thought that it was in any way a first time, or a sort of one-off thing disappeared at this moment). Still facing away from Sara, Hena grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and tossed it across the room. She was still facing me and I saw her smooth stomach, gently curved hips and black bra exposed. Her work clothes had not done her justice! She was stunning. The body of a bikini model.

But she wasn't done yet. Now she reached behind her back, finding the hooks to her bra. She unhooked it and quickly worked the bra down her arms and tossed it as well. She was still facing me and I saw her beautiful breasts. They were incredibly perky, bouncing out of her bra like they were still being held there. Her nipples were about the size of quarters and short, and a dense chocolate color. 

Now she turned, but not completely. She stood to the side so that her left arm was facing Sara and her right arm was facing me, giving me a gorgeous profile shot of her body. The way her flat stomach rose up to the softly angled bottom of her breast and then to the delicious points of her nipple, only to recede back in a slightly convex shape up to her throat was stunning. And I was also enticed by the way her long, black hair cascaded down her back. Her head was turned slightly so that she was looking at Sara.

"How do I look?" Hena asked, and rather than use the sort of faux-sultry porn voice she'd affected before, it seemed like she was actually asking this time. I could sense a little vulnerability in her voice. Sara paused a moment before speaking.

"You look...beautiful," she said and Hena smiled widely. Then Hena reached up with her hands and cupped the underside of both of her breasts.

"Really?" she said, more playfully now. She shook her reddish brown breasts slightly, and watched as her nipples hardened in the cool office air.

"Incredible," Sara said. Hena giggled in a youthful way (that reminded me that she was probably only 20 or so). Hena started to squeeze her breasts tighter and she fingered her nipples gently. Doing so clearly had an effect on her and I watched as she arched her back a bit, closed her eyes and moaned. Sara shifted on the couch. I could now see her nipples poking out ever slightly from blouse. Hena rolled her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and let out a little squeal.

"Oh God!" she moaned. Sara shifted again.

"Okay," she said, seeming very hot and bothered, "Stop torturing me and do what I like!" she begged. 

"Take you shirt off," Hena said and Sara's eyes got big.

"That isn't how we play this game," Sara said, sounding like she was actually a little put out by the request. Hena seemed to know she was pushing something. She slowly bent over at the waist, pushing her ass far out into the air. She still cupped her breasts in her hand.

"Please," she said. For a moment Sara just looked at her. But the older woman's eyes moved all over Hena's body and it was clear her will was broken.

"Fine," she said with a sigh, "but you didn't say anything about the bra!" Then Sara quickly unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it onto the floor. Her large, and surprisingly perky, breasts were encased in a thrilling red bra that would've looked scandalous on a porn star, let alone a conservative mayor. But once she was out of the shirt, she crossed her arms in front of her tits and leaned back into the couch. (I was surprised, for a woman approaching middle age, her stomach looked flawless, I don't know what she did to keep it that way. But seriously: kudos.)

Hena seemed to accept that she'd gotten all of the concessions she was going to get out of her boss. She released her breasts and then reached back to her hips. While she did this, she turned so that her back was to the mayor. She slipped her fingers into the waistband of her yoga pants. Slowly, she worked the pants back around her round ass; exposing more and more of her brown skin (it was readily apparent she wasn't wearing panties). 

As the pants slipped over the bulge of her ass, Hena once again stood up. The pants slipped down her legs and pooled on the floor at her feet. She quickly stepped out of them and stood naked in the mayor's office. Her legs were long and perfectly proportioned. And, from my angle, I got an unobstructed view of her pussy. She had a small patch of well-kempt black hair above tight looking brown lips. I could see the little nub of her hard clit from that distance and could almost smell the thin film of clear liquid that was erupting from inside of her.

Now she turned and faced Sara. Her ass looked tight and her long hair fell all the way down and touch just above her hips. I thought she was going to walk over to Sara now. But I was mistaken. Instead, she slowly dropped down onto the floor, sitting her bare ass down on the dirty office carpet. Then she leaned back. She tucked her left arm under the neck so that as she put her head down, she was propped up slightly, looking towards Sara on the couch (And luckily keeping her eyes where they wouldn't be looking at my narrow crack in the door). I got a thrill seeing the way her pert breasts splayed out across her chest as she laid down, her nipples looking even more prominent in that position. 

Then, Hena lifted her legs in the air and then spread them wide apart. She gently lowered them so that her heels landed on the coffee table, in a slightly inclined position. Her ass was just slightly off the ground now and her dripping pussy was facing Sara. I could see the mound of her pussy thrust slightly into the air. Sara's eyes were firmly planted on Hena's body, and the mayor did not move.

"What does looking at me make you want to do?" Sara asked, her voice sounding thick now. Her face was flushed and I could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. I felt like I could see her heart beating in her chest.

"I want to play with myself!" Hena gasped. Her free hand, the right, was gently kneading one of her breasts, playing with the nipple. Her hips rocked in the air and she twisted slightly. I could hear her panting. The little strip show had clearly gotten her motor running. (And mine too, I could feel my cock pressing hard against my panties, but I couldn't even think to touch it.)

"Then do it baby," Sara said, just above a whisper. Hena's hand snaked down off of her breast, giving her nipple one last little flip before gliding across her ribs, over her flat stomach, and nestling into her little patch of pubic hair. Hena gasped loudly as her finger grazed her clitoris. A tremble moved through her entire body. Her fingers slipped lower, rubbing against the juices that were dripping from her pussy. When her fingers were sopping wet she moved them back to her clitoris.

Now that her fingers were lubricated, Hena's hand moved quickly around her pussy. It looked like she was putting her middle and fore-finger together and quickly circling them over her clit. Occasionally, she would dip back down to her open pussy, get her fingers wetter, and then move back up to her clit. She was moaning slightly as she played with herself and her legs trembled on the coffee table. Sometimes, her hips would thrust up into the air, the bottoms of her feet flattening onto the coffee table and her tits moving up towards her face. The whole time, her eyes stayed intently on Sara.

At first, Sara stayed in the position she'd taken since she had taken off her shirt, leaning back with her arms crossed. But as Hena got more and more involved in her actions, Sara seemed that she was feeling it more. Her arms dropped and her nipples were now like little beads in her bra and her breathing was even lighter than before. Around the time that Hena lifted her fingers once to her mouth and licked off her own juices, Sara seemed like she could barely take stand to look professional and detached anymore.

She nestled back into her couch, her large breasts jiggling as she did so. For a moment, she just watched from that position. But then I saw her breath in deeply. From where I was sitting I could smell Hena's sex in the room, it was intoxicating. I was sure that where Sara was located, the scent was overwhelming. Sara carefully reached down unzipped her skirt (it helpfully zipped on the side). When it was all the way unzipped, she flung it off of her lap, exposing her beautiful legs and her cute red panties. As soon as the skirt was unzipped her legs splayed open, giving me an amazing view of her inner thighs. Her body looked incredible. Not just for a woman her age, but for a woman half her age. I could see that her panties were wet (as though there had been any doubt that she was enjoying the show).

Sara lifted her ass off the couch and slipped her fingers into the waist band of her panties. Her legs briefly went back together. I watched as her panties slid down her hips, over her knees, and then down onto the floor. She even kicked them off her small foot in a particularly sexy way. Once she was disrobed (with the exception of her bra) her legs split open again. Sara had soft, smooth pink pussy lips and an inflamed, red clit that seemed to be begging to be played with. She also had a small, well-kempt patch of hair, but hers was a particularly cute little bit of blonde shaved into a landing strip.




Body Politic



"Oh god, you are so beautiful!" Hena said, or more accurately, sighed. She was wiggling deliciously all over the floor. Her nipples stuck up beautifully in the air and her toes were cutely curled together. But she kept her eyes on her boss. With each rapid flick of her wrist she moaned louder and louder and it was clear she was getting close.

Sara's last bit of restrained reserve seemed to break as Hena's lilting and passionate voice echoed through the empty building. She leaned back further in her couch and then her right hand slid over her beautifully constructed thigh. I heard her give a little gasp as her finger brushed against her clit. She bit her lower lip now and looked down at Hena more intently. The passion between them was palpable, even as Hena was bucking more and more wildly on the floor.

It was instantly apparent that Sara had a different technique of self-love. Her middle finger quickly slipped into her hot pink pussy. I saw her hand twist around so that her palm was up and I could see her wrist moving as she slowly stroked the ridged inside of her cunt with the pad of her finger. Even while she did that her thumb zeroed in on her clit. As she stroked the inside of her body, she also stroked the outside. Her finger moved in a sensual rhythm. Her finger, wetter with each movement inside of her and her thumb, circling wildly over her most sensitive part. In a moment, I could smell her scent in the air, mixed wonderfully with Hena's.

Apparently, that smell and the enticing sight of her boss pleasuring herself was more than enough for Hena. Her feet banged sharply on the coffee table. She made a deep moaning voice in her throat that eventually rose up into an ecstatic squeal. And while she moaned, her entire body began to shake. Her eyes closed and she bit down hard on her lower lip. Finally, she screamed out a staccato scream of, "Oh God!" before her body stopped shaking and she fell limp down on the carpet, panting. Her nipples still hard as her breasts rose deeply and she caught her breath.

Sara watched Hena's orgasm with intense interest. As Hena reached the intense crescendo of her clitoral manipulation, Sara completely ceased to move her fingers on her own pussy, in fact she didn't even appear to be breathing. She just watched, her cheeks red and her eyes on fire, while her assistant came in a powerful orgasm. After Hena collapsed, panting onto the floor, Sara gave her an assistant a moment to catch her breath. But, once Hena started to show the slightest signs of life, Sara instantly sprung forward with a request.

"Who ever said you get to cum before me?" Sara said. It was hard to tell from her voice if she was being playful or actually angry that her assistant had diddled herself to orgasm.

"You say I look sexy when I cum," Hena said, but sounding a bit nervous.

"You are sexiest when you cum after I tell you to," Sara explained.

"You told me to play with myself," Hena said desperately. She even shifted uneasily on the floor.

"But I never said to finish. You are getting willful" Sara said. Hena sat up at this point and pulled her knees up to her check, like she was trying to cover herself, "But, I might be willing to forgive you, since you are so sexy." 

"Anything," Hena said, her knees dropping again, exposing her breasts to her boss. It now became clear they were playing a game, but how much of the game was based on the real power dynamic at work was less certain.

"Crawl over here," Sara said dryly and pointed to the spot right between her legs. Hena didn't need to be told twice. She got up on her hands and knees in the blink of an eye. Her round ass faced directly towards the door where I was sitting and I could see her pussy dripping down her leg. She started to move towards Sara lankily, her ass and breasts jiggling slightly as she crawled. She stopped as she began to move around the coffee table. There wasn't enough space between the table and the couch for her to crawl so she quickly pushed it aside (thereby exposing the scene more fully to my camera and somehow increasing my luck even further).

Once the table was moved, Hena finished her crawling between Sara's spread legs. When she got exactly to the spot where Sara had pointed, she leaned knelt back and looked up. Sara hadn't moved the entire time, she just watched her assistant. She definitely got a thrill out of being able to order someone around, to make them feel the weight of her authority. I wondered if this was all punishment for Hena exposing Sara's need to see her body, for extracting a concession to have the shirt removed before Hena would take off her yoga pants. I got the feeling that Sara was making a point in not taking off her bra. Push me and you get less, it seemed to say. They sat silently for a moment, another head game. Finally, Hena spoke.

"What would you like Sara?" Hena asked, her voice just above a whisper. Sara's hand shot out quickly and grabbed Hena's beautiful long hair. Hena gave a surprised shriek but didn't appear to be in too much pain. In fact, after the initial squeal, she let moaned slightly; she was enjoying it.

"Eat my pussy!" Sara said, moving Hena by her hair so that her face was directly in Sara's lap. Hena's hands reached forward and grasped onto Sara's thigh's, holding the older woman's legs apart. Sara's hard grip on Hena's hair released and she began to run her fingers through it. She sighed deeply and leaned back heavily in the couch. Her eyes closed. Hena's head bobbed slightly and it was clear that she was sucking and licking on Sara's hard clit and sopping pussy.

The room was generally quiet now, just the gently slurping sound from between Sara's legs and an occasional sigh from the mayor. While she was eating out the mayor, one of Hena's hands moved from Sara's thigh. I watched as it slipped over her breasts and then back down between her own legs. Hena's finger pressed into her still-wet pussy. Her finger started to piston in and out of her sopping hole while she gently licked Sara.

Sara was clearly already worked up before any of this had started. A few minutes of attention from Hena's tongue and she was starting to lose control of herself. Her fingers were still dancing in Hena's hair, but faster now. Her eyes were still closed and her tongue was gently licking her own lips. Without any sort of warning she leaned forward and threw both of her arms behind her back. She spent a few seconds fiddling behind her back and then, gloriously, she slipped off her bra. Her large breasts were stunningly pert, especially for a woman beginning to reach middle age. I really cannot say enough how impervious her breasts were to gravity, they looked like they belonged to an 18-year old. They were tear-drop shaped and stood up high on her chest, with somewhat large red nipples. It was clear that she tanned topless as there was no hint of lines on her body. 

Her hands instantly flew to her breasts. She started to knead her flesh roughly with both hands as her legs started to shake. Her fingers found her nipples, tweaking and teasing them as Hena's head rocked faster in her lap. It seemed her breasts came out when they would give Sara pleasure, not Hena. Sara's sighs began to rise, becoming moans and groaned. Hena's finger twitched faster in her cunt as Sara began to get closer and closer.

"Oh Jesus Christ, fuck me you little slut!" Sara yelled suddenly (a phrase that I am sure rarely appeared in any of her campaign commercials). Her eyes shot open and her entire body went rigid. I even watched as her cute little toes curled up and her legs shot out stiff from her body. Hena noticed too, but she didn't stop licking her boss. Sara made a slight creaking sound in her throat and then collapse, limp and sated on the couch. Only now did Hena stop, watching Sara pant and sweat as she came down from the high of her orgasm.

"Oh god, that was intense," Sara said finally. Hena leaned forward boldly, putting her hands on either side of Sara's naked hips. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she rose up and kissed Sara gently on the lips. Sara's eyes fluttered open for the first time since her orgasm, then they closed again and she kissed her lover back, passionately. One of Hena's hands moved up from the couch and began to gently knead Sara's large breast. Their tongue plunged into each other's mouths and it was clear they weren't quite done yet. Finally, Sara broke their kiss.

"My pussy tastes good on your lips," she said, "But I want to taste yours." Without another word, Sara lay down on the couch. She was looking up at the ceiling with her feet on one end of the couch and her head at the other. She had a mischievous smile on her face. Hena did not hesitate, her boss' statement was followed without the slightest hint of conscious thought. She hopped up on the couch, standing on the cushions. She straddled Sara's body, her feet on either side of her boss' head. Then she knelt down slowly, dropping her pussy gently down towards Sara's face. As she inched closer, Sara reached up and grabbed Hena's hips, pulling the girl down. Hena giggled as her pussy lips pressed against Sara's mouth. Then she gasped.

For a moment Hena just squatted over Sara's face. Her eyes were closed and her back was arched fiercely. She was making a slight noise in her throat as Sara's tongue visibly swirled around her clitoris. She even grinded her hips a little bit, pushing her cunt harder into Sara's face.

Then, whether because she felt she needed to reciprocate or Sara gave her an extra little nibble (disliking the slight show of dominance, no doubt), Hena fell forward between her boss' legs. Now the two woman's arms and legs intertwined in a delicious 69. I could see Sara's face clearly, pressed into her aide's pussy, her tongue working furiously. I could also see the top of Hena's head, bobbing slightly as she licked. The two women's breasts pressed into one another's stomachs and they looked like they were made for one another. The room was noisy with their sounds of their tongue slurping and their bodies grinding together. Heat was coming out of the room and the smell of their arousal was incredibly thick.

They stayed in that position for a long time. Their hands moved around on another's legs, hips, and asses but generally they just slowly and sensually kissed each other's most secret areas. After a long while, their tongues became more frantic and their bodies grinded together with more desperation. I could hear their muffled moans and wondered what the vibrations felt like on their pussies. Sara's thighs started to squeeze Hena's head. At the same time, Hena started to grind her pussy harder onto Sara's face, so much so that her clit was bumping Sara's nose.

At the same instant, they reached the absolute peak of sexual arousal. Their bodies stiffened and they were both yelling into one another's bodies. I saw their muscles taut and their soft skin sheen with their sweat, juice, and saliva. Sara's fingers dug hard into her aide's ass cheeks like she was trying to get even more inside of her lover, trying to force two into one. Finally, Hena screeched so loudly I thought the police would show up and the two woman collapsed in a tangled web of hair, arms, legs, and contented smiles. 

After a few minutes of getting their heads together, they seemed to rouse. Hena rolled off of her boss onto the floor. Sara sat up on the couch and then Hena sat down next to her. They were both smiling sheepishly and looked a thousand times more relaxed than they had earlier at the press conference.

"That was amazing," Hena said finally and then she giggled a bit. Sara put her arm around Hena's waist and smiled back.

"You really are the best I've ever had," she said and the girl blinked and looked away shyly. Sara put her hand on Hena's chin, pulling her so that she was looking her in the eye. They kissed gently for a moment, but less passionately than before. It was...tender. When their kiss broke they looked at each other for a moment. The room felt pregnant, the word "love" seemed to flitter around the furniture. Someone needed to say it.

"Well," Sara said after a long while, "I guess we need to finish this before I head home." She said, and then looked down at the table that had recently been moved to allow the women to make love. Hena looked disappointed for a moment, but then seemed to realize where she was and what she was doing. Hena's obvious affection for the boss was leverage and Sara applied it. I'd never seen someone put in their place so effectively, it was actually heart breaking. Sara was making sure that Hena knew that their little game together wasn't an equal partnership, Hena didn't get to play games with Sara (like she'd tried to at the beginning) and she wasn't going to get emotional praise. Sex was Sara's game and it happened under her rules at her time. 

"Oh yeah, let's go over the parks budget," Hena said a little wounded. But then they were back in the thick of it, like nothing had happened. Just two naked women discussing city policy in a room that reeked of sex. I kept the camera filming for a moment, making sure that I got close up shots of both of them. Then, fearing I would be heard, I clicked off my camera and rushed out of the courthouse as fast as I could (which was tough with a raging erection). 

Chapter 3: Playing the Hand Dealt

The next morning when I walked into City Hall, I felt that all eyes were on me. But, rather than feel like I was somehow out of place, it gave me power. It was, after all, what I wanted that day. It put a smirk on my face while I watched the secretaries and office drones stop what they were doing and stare at my body. Yeah, the attempts to wear the conservative clothes and try to play their game were over. From now on they were going to play my game and I dressed accordingly.

The tasteful gray heels were gone, replaced by a pair of midnight black high-heeled boots that came up to my knees. The boring gray pencil skirt was likewise ditched in favor of a black and red pleated skirt that was so short I looked like a pornstar cheerleader. If my cock hadn't been tucked up gently in a pair of red panties, it probably would have hung down below the hem. No uninteresting blouse for me today, instead I wearing a tight black tank top that perfectly complemented my sleeve tattoo and accentuated my breasts. Topping it all off, I let my hair out of my ponytail and then put it back up in two long pigtails. I had decided to flip completely to the opposite end on my sartorial choices: from school marm to punk rocker. 

It was a little extreme, even for me. Even for me if it was Saturday night out. Even for me if it was a Saturday night out and I was trying my damndest to get laid. But I was there to make a statement. Judging from the looks I got from people (including some of the reporters I'd sat with in the press conference just the other day), that message was getting through. 

As I walked up the stairs towards the mayor's office, I realized I was walking up the very same stairs I had fled down the previous night. But now I was much more in control of myself. The previous night I'd run out of Town Hall to my hotel completely dazed. The entire walk to my room had been like an out of body experience; I was walking and navigating streets and then hallways, but my mind was back at town hall, trying to digest what I had seen.

I didn't even recall putting my keycard in the door, I just remember suddenly being in my room, my phone plugged into my computer, and my heart beating a thousand beats per second as I started the download. Once the rather large video file was off of my phone and onto my computer I pulled it up and started to watch.

Just as real as it had been the first time, I found myself watching Mayor Sara Barker and her aide Hena entwined on the couch. My body still felt electric, the sexual and professional thrill of watching the women heightened by the fact that I'd actually captured everything. I watched intently to make sure that it was...and yes, it was perfect, Mayor Barker had looked directly into my camera at least once. The camera quality was impeccable. There was no doubt about who she was. I had her dead to rights. 

I sat back in the chair at the hotel room desk and let in all the air I seemed to have been holding in my lungs since I peeked into the mayor's door. I suddenly became aware that I was sitting in my hotel room. It was almost impossible to remember getting there. I shook my head and then looked back at the screen where I'd paused of a shot of Hena eating out the mayor, who was looking directly into the camera. 

"What am I going to do to you?" I asked her. She was too busy to respond. Ever since I'd first seen the two women kissing, I had just gone into complete recording mode. All that mattered was getting a film of what I was seeing and then saving a copy of it on my computer. Now, that was all done and the magnitude of what I was seeing struck me cold. This was huge. Like national news huge mixed with celebrity sex-tape huge. It was unbelievable. But I hadn't even begun to cope with what I needed to do with this hand grenade. 

As a reporter and an activist, the first thought I had was pure instinct. "Well you hypocrite, this is definitely news-worthy. I think you are about to get outed," I said to the figure on my computer screen. It would be perfect. I could see it, a story on QueerWire under my name ricocheting around the internet. Heavily censored, but still titillating, photos would serve as click bait and leave no doubt as to the identity of the willing participant. I would be on television talking about my story and go from a nobody to the hottest ticket in town for a couple of news cycles. More important, Mayor Hypocrite would be gone. You don't survive a gay sex scandal when you are a small city mayor, especially not when opposition to same-sex benefits is your defining policy position.

For a moment, I just let myself revel in that vision. A sudden turning of the tides with Mayor Barker cast out of the nation's good graces and a transwoman taking a moment in the sun. But suddenly a voice spoke in the back of my mind. It sounded like...Carol. "Are you going to piss away your leverage? You have a chance to create a change in the world and you want to use it for 15 minutes of fame?"

A new political reality then dawned on me; the calculations suddenly became very different. The current mayor was, of course, a Republican. If she were forced to resign in disgrace she would be replaced by her Deputy Mayor. I had done a little research before I'd come to town and I knew that her deputy mayor was also a conservative Republican. In fact, he was even more hard-line than she was, openly talking about "sodomites" and using other charming euphemisms. Outing the mayor would likely do little more than increase the public's disgust with LGBTQ people and strengthen the new mayor's hand. The gay benefits resolution would definitely be torpedoed. A week after the story broke, Mayor Barker would be out of a job and I would be old news. Worse yet, things in this city would remain as unpleasant as ever, if not more so. The injustice I sought to stop would become even more firmly entrenched.

So where did that leave me? The tape was undoubtedly leverage. The question was finding the best way to use it. Obviously it only worked as a threat to the mayor. She had to feel the risk of being exposed. But, as I'd already reasoned, it was not a particularly great outcome for me either. But it was better than nothing, I had to be willing to use the tape if all else failed. But what did I want? That was the question really, I hadn't ever really thought of it like that before.

A wave of inspiration flooded over me. A whole plan blossomed in my brain. What I wanted had to be simple and it had to be clean. And my little plan was all of that and more. It was perfect. I spent several hours honing the plan, considering options, tossing bad ideas, until I had a tight, stream-lined method to get what I wanted. When I was all squared away, I felt suddenly euphoric, and unquestionably powerful. I was excited for the next day when I would put my plan into actions. So I turned off my computer and slept like it was Christmas Eve and I was six years old; I barely able keep my eyes closed.




Body Politic



The next morning I stayed in bed and decided to skip the press conference. That was not really important anymore, this was about more than a story. This was about the real use of power. And, in order to show that I was no longer playing by the rules, I dressed up in a way that made it painfully obvious.

I reached the mayor's floor and quickly walked towards her office. I stopped next to the secretary and put my hands on her desk, leaning over so that my cleavage was in her face (and I am sure my ass was slightly exposed to the people watching behind me). She was on the phone but looked absolutely disgusted when she saw me. She made a quick excuse and hung up the phone.

"Hello ma'am," she huffed, "Can I help you?

"

"I am Heidi Drake from QueerWire, I am here to see the mayor's aide Hena Dutta. Can you let me in her office?" I said, peering around the desk towards the door. The Secretary leaned over, getting her face in front of mine.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No," I said and started to walk around her desk towards the office door. She made a strange little yelping sound and then tried to rush in front of me. I just kept moving toward the door. Finally she slipped in front of me, bumping into the door as she did so.

"I am sorry Ms. Drake, but if you do not have an appointment, then you cannot enter the Mayor's office suite or speak to any of her staff people."

"I am sorry Ms. Secretary," I said, "But I wasn't asking for permission to speak with anyone, I was letting you know as a courtesy that I would be speaking with Ms. Dutta, get out of my way." I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"Ms. Drake, I don't know how things works in New York or wherever you are from," she said caustically and paused for a moment to look at me with disdain, "But that is now how things work here. If you want to make an appointment we can discuss that, but you are not walking past this door."

"I know you are just trying to do your job, and I am not trying to be a pain in YOUR ass, but you need to get out of my way," I said in response.

"I will call security!" she threatened. I didn't necessarily like where this was going, but there was really no way to pull back now.

"Would you just shut the hell up and let me in," I said. The secretary was just about to say something else when the door opened behind her. She stumbled back once and almost fell on her ass. I couldn't help but laugh. I looked into the doorway and saw Hena standing at the door, looking confused. She quickly helped the secretary out of the doorway and then closed the door behind herself. Hena was wearing another in a seemingly endless line of unimaginative pantsuits. This one was a boring blue color and she was wearing a white blouse underneath. She was wearing a pair of black heels and her black hair was tied back in a ponytail. Much more professional than the previous night.

"What is going on?" she asked, her eyes narrowing when she looked at me. I was the rude girl, she seemed to remember me.

"This...lady was trying to barge in on you in your office!" The secretary said, taking her seat.

"I was going to talk to you, I tried to explain it to the secretary, but she didn't seem to understand," I replied coldly.

"I am late for a meeting as it is," Hena said with real anger, "And once again you seem completely unable to follow the rules Ms. Drake," she remembered me for sure, "And if you want to speak with me you should have been at the press conference. I took questions for the mayor for half-an-hour. After the stink you made about getting your credentials, it is unconscionable that you would miss it." 

I walked closer to her and she backed up a bit, it was nice to have a little bit of power, even if Hena didn't know why yet, "I don't want a lecture, I want to talk to you in private. Immediately." I said.

"Alright Ms. Drake, I am calling security," Hena said, the second time I'd heard the threat. She started to push past me to walk to the secretary's phone. I grasped her arm lightly and felt her body tremble at my touch. I turned quickly and put my lips to her ear.

"Well you can use that hot red tongue to call security if you want, but I know for a fact it can be used for many, many more...interesting purposes. In fact, I have video of one such use from this very office last night." I released her arm and she stopped walking toward the phone. She looked at me intently, her brow was furrowed. It was clear she was nervous, but she didn't know what I knew and didn't want to give anything away.

"Yoga pants with no panties," I said a little louder than a whisper, "Sort of casual for going over the parks budget, no?" Suddenly Hena's eyes got wide as saucers and her hand involuntarily reached up to her mouth.

"Do you want me to call security?" the secretary asked Hena. Hena remained frozen. It was clear one of her greatest fears had been realized. I instantly felt compassion for her. This wasn't about her, she was collateral damage. I felt terrible, but I couldn't back down. I couldn't even show that I had sympathy. But Hena facilitated Mayor Barker's hypocrisy, so she was going to pay a little price. I would take it easier on her.

"We need to talk hon," I said, touching her hand gently. She shook off her dazed look with a start.

"No, uh..." she said, "Don't call security Ms. Miller. Ms. Drake..."

"Heidi," I said, "please."

"Heidi, follow me, I forgot we had that...thing that we needed to talk about," she said, awkwardly and ineffectively covering. She grabbed the doorknob and opened the door to the office. The Secretary looked completely dumbfounded, so I gave her a snotty glare.

"I thought you were late for a meeting?" I asked as I walked in. Hena breathed deeply but didn't say anything. A moment later, the door was closed behind me. 

"I uh..." Hena started, trying to think of an answer for me.

"I don't care," I said, "Just take me to your office." We were actually standing in the middle of the Mayor's office now, the scene of the crime the previous night. As the mayor's personal aide, Hena's office was actually attached so that she could attend to all of the Mayor's needs at a moment's notice. 

I wasn't worried about the mayor being in the office, I had checked her schedule online. She had a groundbreaking that day downtown and then was meeting with veterans at the VFW in the afternoon. I was looking for Hena. And when the Mayor's schedule had noted that her personal aid would be available for scheduling appointments that day, I knew she would be in the office.

It might seem strange that my plan was not to immediately go to the Mayor and confront her. That had been my first instinct and, as I had started to plan how my plan would unfold, it had always started with a trip to see the mayor first. But the more I started to think about what I hoped to achieve, the more I realized that I needed more information. One thing you realize when you are talking about leverage, is that you can always use more. What did Archimedes say about it? I didn't want to spring my trap until it was a sure thing. There was only one chance at this, I had to get it right.

That's why I needed to see Hena first. I didn't know how long she was sleeping with the mayor and I didn't know how much she knew about her lover. But I hoped that she would tell me something, anything that would give me more ammunition when the time came to put the screws to the mayor. My best strategy was just to use whatever methods I had to turn Hena against the mayor. The mayor was a hypocrite and not particularly nice to Hena. I could give Hena a chance to push back. It looked like the previous night she was trying to stand up for herself. I would give her the chance. And I would use whatever Hena showed so that I could be ready for the mayor. At least, that was the hope.

Now Hena led me over toward her office. We walked inside and she quickly closed the door behind her. It was an incredibly tiny office with a small desk, a book case, a chair behind it and a stool in front of it. Funny, I thought it was the mayor who was in the closet. It was a little too cute, but I was in the zone. There was no window in the office and, once the door was closed, we were completely isolated. Hena locked the door behind her (no window on the door either) and then walked around several stacks of papers and sat down at her desk. She motioned towards the stool. I moved the stool out of the way and stood on the far side of the desk, looking down at Hena.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly but not as strongly as she'd hoped. I looked around her office briefly, taking my time and letting the tension rise inside of her. I reached forward and picked a snow globe up off of her desk, I flipped it upside down, and then set it back on the desk, the plastic snow swirling. Time to upend things.

"I'm here with the Clinton Initiative, I am supposed to check interns for rug burns," I said and then smiled as she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. Coming to her office had been a perfect touch. She felt so invulnerable here, as a staffer for a powerful woman. When I entered this place and hinted that maybe she wasn't as powerful as she thought, it had really thrown her for a loop.

"I don't know what you think you know Ms. Dra...Heidi. But I assure you that nothing untoward has occurred in this office," Hena said, mastering herself and quickly slipping into her bureaucratic speech, a place of comfort. 

"So I didn't see you kissing the mayor, stripping your clothes off, fingering yourself, eating the mayor's pussy, sitting on her face, and then wrapping everything up with a steamy 69? That's weird, thought I knew I saw that," I said in response. I crossed my arms in front of my tits and put on a haughty expression. There was going to be no euphemisms or coy expressions. We were going to talk about this. Henna's eyes were huge and her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"I think..." she said, "It is very inappropriate for you to... walk into my office and like..."

she said, struggling to find a way out. Suddenly her eyes lit up, "And even if what you said was true, and it is definitely not, you can't prove anything." Even before she started talking, I was reaching into my handbag and pulling out my cellphone. As soon as she completed talking, I pulled up the video, pushed play, and held it toward her face.

"Oh Jesus Christ, fuck me you little slut!" Sara's voice called out from the cellphone. I had started it at just the right spot! Hena looked like she was about to get sick and she pushed the phone away quickly.

"Okay, okay...no more bullshitting," she said, sounding less like an office drone now and more like a nervous college girl, "You have your video. We both know what it shows." Her eyes were downcast. Hena looked incredibly, wistfully beautiful when she was depressed. My heart went out to her, but I thought about my goal and steeled myself against compassion.

"So we aren't going to be lying to each other anymore? Right? Just the truth?"

"Yes..." she said, then she looked up at me, her eyes pleading, "I don't understand what you are doing here though. So be honest with me. Why am I not seeing this on TMZ or your website..."

"QueerWire," I said and she made a face.

"Yeah, QueerWire. Why are you here instead of writing a story about me? Do you think I have money or something? This job pays $28,000 a year..."

"I am not here for you, don't be stupid," I said and Hena winced.

"What do you want with Sara...I mean Mayor Barker?" Hena asked. I smiled and leaned forward now, putting my palms on her desk. I saw her eyes briefly go to my cleavage and then back down to her desk.

"Sara eh?" I said, not letting that one slip by. This was an opening into what we were really here to talk about. She knew that all I wanted was Mayor Barker, no more avoiding it.

"I said Mayor Barker," she said quietly.

"How long has she just been Sara?" I asked, I reached forward and put my hand on top of Hena's. Hena shuddered and tried to scoot away. This was kind of fun.

"That isn't any of your business. I don't want to tell you anything about...Mayor Barker's private life. Just tell me what I need to do to protect..." she said.

"Sara?" I said helpfully.

"Protect this office and make you go away," Hena finished. She looked up at me now, her frustration evidence on her face.

"Let's not talk about lovely Sara for a minute then. You think it is at all strange that a pretty, young lesbian like yourself is working for a Republican mayor? A conservative Republican mayor who publicly bashes the LGBTQ community?" I asked. She instantly started to shake her head.

"Sara...Mayor Barker is a libertarian. Like me. Yeah, you're right. I am a lesbian. But I work for her because I believe in the free market." she explained, seeming more comfortable now that she was able to talk about ideology, "All the gay marriage stuff and drug policy stuff...that isn't...her. She doesn't really care that much about it. She just has to do it... you know because the voters in the city..." Hena burbled. It was clear someone had whole-heartedly bought a line of shit. I shook my head.

"Strange way to show her libertarianism don't you think? This is her signature policy position," I said.

"It isn't. The she wants to focus on tax cuts. It is the media that makes her focus on this stuff. It is people like you," she spat, her anger rising. 

"What did she tell you about her own lesbianism?"

"I mean she isn't...not really one. It is just...her husband isn't able to...you know. And we work closely together and her job is real stressful. Sometimes, she just needs...you know..." She said and I snorted.

"To eat a pussy?" I asked and Hena groaned.

"I told you I don't want to talk about her," Hena said. But it was clear that she was caught. She would have to talk if I pushed her. But it was also clear when she talked about the mayor that the aide though was totally blind. Whatever information I got from her would have to be taken with a grain of salt. The woman was Hena's professional hero. I decided to push her on facts, rather than her opinions about the mayor.

"Oh," I said with feigned surprised, "In that case... I just need to know how long you two have been fucking." She winced like I'd struck her. She kept her eyes closed as she spoke. She knew she couldn't wiggle out of it now. She took a deep breath.

"We have... Been sleeping with one another for about three months," she said.

"How long have you been working at city hall," I asked.

"Five months," she replied and I laughed. "What?" she asked.

"She doesn't waste time," I said.

"It wasn't like that," Hena protested. Her eyes flashed open and she looked at me with extreme certainty, "I started it. It was me. Now this is all my fault."

"I think that is what she wanted you to think honey," I said, "Straight women don't just go a little bit queer in two months just because you are so unbelievably charming." I said. Then I took my hand and rubbed it across her cheek, looking directly into her eyes, "Even if you are really fucking charming." She twisted away from my grasp. I was keeping her off balance now. Driving home the point that she should be ashamed and do what I said. She didn't know what to think.

"Please stop," she whined and I moved from her cheek. "I can't believe this is happening to me." She seemed to say to herself. Well that was an interesting statement. It seemed that there was a little bit of self-pitying going on. This was what I was waiting for. I needed to divide Hena from her boss, to show her that it was in her interest to play ball with me and to abandon Sara.

"You asked when I first came in here, what I want," I said, all business now.

"Yes," she said, "And I still don't know."

"Resolution B," I said matter-of-factly.

"What?" she asked.

"Resolution B, the same-sex benefits measure. I want the mayor to get out of the way," I said. This was my plan. Simple, elegant, and achievable. "The mayor agrees not to veto the legislation, she doesn't even have to support it, and in exchange the video you watched, ceases to exist. Like it never happened. And, on the bright side for her soul, she is no longer a hypocrite." Hena's eyes widened and she started to shake her head, even while I was still talking.

"She won't ever do that. She can't. This position...it has gotten too much national news, she can't flip-flop. She wants to be governor," she said and then winced. There it was, a little more information. All politicians are ambitious, but this was a big ambition. Now I knew it.

"Anyone can change any position if they have the right motivation," I said, "I don't want to hurt anyone..."

"Don't want to hurt anyone!" Hena said, "You are threatening to expose my...private sex life!" She was emotional now, not listening to my offer. I had to get her under control.

"Listen," I said, leaning away from her a bit to show that I was sympathetic to her concerns, pulling back on the gas, "I am not in this to hurt you. You are... not the person in charge, and I understand that. If you just cooperate and tell me what I want to know, there is no reason this needs to hurt you. If I can't get Sara to change her mind, then when I release the video you will be blurred out. I just need some information on Sara, that's why I came here okay?" I asked. I thought I'd really gotten to the heart of the issue here. Hena was worried about being exposed in front of the country as some sort of home wrecking, lesbian slut. I could give her what she needed: immunity from public shaming in exchange for information. Leverage and application thereof.

"You want me to help you blackmail Sara and in exchange, what? There will be Sara on the internet have sex with an amorphous, brown, female blob?" she said. I could hear disgust in her voice and I realized I'd made a mistake. "You don't understand; this is more important than me or anything. This is about what is right. Sara is...she is a wonderful mayor. I won't tell you anything. And if you want to expose me, then just go ahead and do it." Hena said. 

The response told me way more than Hena probably intended. And it spelled doom for my current strategy. Hena wasn't just protecting her boss and she didn't care, in the overall scheme, about being exposed, if that was all it was. Hena was in love. I felt so stupid for not realizing it before. Hena wasn't just fucking her boss. She'd developed an absolute infatuation with her. Everything she said and did indicated it. It went beyond policy or hero worship. Hena had genuine romantic feelings for the mayor. And she would gladly harm herself to protect the mayor. It was almost sweet. 

For a moment, it made me feel dirty about what I was doing. But then I thought about the mayor with her sham marriage. If anyone was putting Hena in this position, it was the mayor. She was filling this impressionable young college student with bullshit to get at her body. She was making Hena believe that there was something real to their relationship, playing with her emotions. If I helped Hena realize that, she would be better off. Tough love.

"Fine," I said, "If you want to ignore your own interests, you can do that. But you aren't getting out of this that easily. You are helping me one way or the other. Either you sit down and spill everything you know about Sara Barker and her sexual proclivities or...you help me some other way." I said. I didn't really have much of a plan yet. I just needed an empty threat at that point. Let her imagination run wild. Whatever she feared, she could project onto the situation.

"What are you going to make me do?" she asked. I saw her knees turn together and she crossed her arms in front of her breasts. She was covering up her most private areas. That had to tell me something.




Body Politic



"I am going to make you talk about Sara Barker," I said, driving that point home. I leaned in closer towards her now, my face just a few inches from her's. She bowed her head.

"I won't do it. Release the video if you want to hurt me. That will do it," she said. She wasn't thinking clearly. The video had no leverage with her. If I released it to harm Hena, then I really didn't have anything to use against Sara Barker. But I did have Sara Barker, maybe I could use that against Hena.

"I can't release the video for you. You know that," I said, "I need it for Sara." She looked up at me and thought about it. She nodded.

"Yeah, so whatever. You can't get anything out of me, so leave," she said.

"Well, I do have something else," I said, thinking quickly. I reached into my handbag again and took out a tape recorder. It wasn't running, but Hena didn't know that. "In this state, one person can record a conversation without the other's consent." I explained.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that whether you wanted to talk about Sara or not, you already have. I have it recorded. I can take this to the mayor. I will let her know that you set her up. You are a lesbian; you disagree with her policy positions. You called me at QueerWire and seduced her last night (as you have been doing all along). You got me to take the video and then we talked about it," I said. Hena's eyes instantly began to fill with tears and her body shook violently. She started to shake her head violently. 

"No...No...No... you can't do that! She won't believe you" she yelled. But she gave lie to that and got up quickly and walked around the table, "You can't do that!" she cried.

"Then talk to me!" I demanded. Hena fell down onto her knees in front of me. She was clearly on the edge of some sort of break down.

"That's an impossible choice! You want me either to betray Sara by talking to you and then she will find out or you want to tell Sara that I betrayed you. It is the same either way! I can't do either. Please, oh God. If Sara thought I did that...Please I can't," she begged. I realized that she was right, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Just tell me what I need to know!" I demanded.

"I will do anything else! Please, just don't make me talk about Sara," Hena begged pitifully. I looked down at her and her eyes were upturned, welling with tears, "Anything else. You said I could help you in another way. Let me..." she said and then, without saying anything further, Hena leaned forward, closed her eyes, and kissed my stomach. She put her warm hands against my tank top, slid it up, and kissed my bare stomach again. I froze. I had not expected that.

"What are you doing?" I asked, grabbing her wrist. She wrenched them free.

"You work for QueerWire right? You are a lesbian aren't you? You think I am pretty don't you," Hena said. She reached behind her back, found the ties that were holding her hair in place and pulled them out. She shook her head and let her long, dark hair tumble over her shoulders. She looked back up at me, her big almond eyes pleading, "Let me do something else. Let me make you feel good and then you won't show Sara the tapes," she begged. The instant she said that, her hands returned to my body. Her left hand rubbed against my stomach and she kissed it again, her right hand shot up my body, grabbing my left breast forcefully but gently.

"Just talk, I don't want this," I said. I couldn't believe what Hena was doing. I knew that there had been a sexually charged atmosphere. I had purposefully created it. But that was to make sure Hena was off balance and to remind her about why we were talking. I had no intention of this! But as her hands squeezed my breast, I felt a tingly feeling in my nipples and my cock twitched between my legs. Hena, on her knees, her hair wild, was an incredibly beautiful girl. Her body, I knew from the night before, was lithe and elegant and now, up close, I could smell her delicate scent, a light floral perfume mixed with her pheromones. And innocent college kids were kind of my type. I started to lose focus.

"I am young, but I am pretty experienced," Hena cooed, clearly aware of the effect she was having on me, "Just let me make you feel good and we can talk about it." Her hand started to squeeze my breast more tightly. I took a deep breath in gasping slightly. My entire chest tingled and I felt my head swam. I needed to control myself, or this was going to get worse. I grabbed Hena's hand and pulled it away from my breast. My body regretted it instantly. I wanted the sensation.

"Anything you want," Hena whispered, taking my attempts to reject her in stride. While her right hand had been thrown off, her left hand was still touching my body. She pressed her lips against my stomach again and then quickly snaked her hand down over my thigh. Before I had a chance to move out of the way or say anything, Hena's hand slid up underneath of my skirt. In an instant, her hand pressed against my half-mast cock. She froze with her fingers half-wrapped around my penis. She looked up at me, her eyes a picture of confusion. 

"What the hell is that?" she asked. Her delicate fingers pressed against the thin fabric separating my skin from the air furthered the effect she was already having on me. I didn't have the will to push her hand away anymore. I liked the way it felt and groaned slightly. 

I think it is important to remember the exact situation. I was running on about 15 hours of adrenaline and ambition. I was feeling powerful and that made me feel sexy. I hadn't slept much the night before and was wired beyond reason. I was also in the midst of delving into a sex scandal. I wasn't really thinking clearly. More importantly, I'd watched two beautiful women have sex the night before and hadn't done anything myself. I just got really horny, then laid in bed all night. In fact, I hadn't had sex or masturbated in well over a week. And now there was this absolutely gorgeous girl with her hand wrapped around my cock. Her eyes, her breasts, her ass, it was all just too much. She was just my type of girl. It became very difficult to stick to a strategy. 

Now I thought that maybe I had a new strategy. Maybe if I saw where this was going I could find a new way to take advantage of her. There was more than one way to get to Sara Barker. I could learn some sort of information about her through taking her lover. Maybe I could make Mayor Barker jealous or something. I don't know, I would figure that out later. My body was overriding my mind and coming up with rationales for what I wanted that didn't necessarily fit any strategy. My one thought was that if I could get it by actually fucking Hena instead of metaphorically fucking her, so much the better for me. And for Hena. I don't know if that new strategy made sense, but it was enough for me at that moment.

"What do you think it is Hena?" I asked in a sultry voice. I turned to the side and then sat down on the top of Hena's desk. Hena's hand was still on my cock, like she was too shocked to move it. Her eyes were wide as saucer's and had sort of a blank stare going on. I rolled up the bottom of my skirt, which didn't take long given its short length. It pooled around my hips. Now Hena's hand was exposed, set gently against my lap. I saw my cock, more hard than soft now, poking against my tight black panties. It felt uncomfortable, and I desperately wanted it out. So I slipped my thumbs down into the waistband of my panties and lifted my ass up slightly. In a quick motion I pulled my panties down. My cock bounced out of it and I moved so quickly that Hena's hand was still there, resting gently on my hot skin. I let the panties slid past my knees and then fall to the ground. My cock stood up at full attention now, Hena's eyes were fixated on my cock stud.

"You're a...you have a..." Hena tried a few times and the looked up at me, her eyes deep pools of innocence. Oh god she was so cute!

"A cock? A dick? A schlong?" I asked. She looked at me in awe.

"How? You are a...lesbian. This doesn't make any sense," Hena said, she sounded like she was in a cloud. She was so confused that all of her brain cells weren't firing. She couldn't make the connection. I giggled at her. I liked to think I blew ladies minds, but this was a whole different level.

"I never said I was a lesbian," I said, reaching down and gently stroking Hena's face. She leaned into it, letting me rub her gently, "That is what you and everyone else in this town just assumed when you saw me. But I am a prick in a sexy little chick's body." I explained. 

"But you are...you are so pretty!" she said. As usual, I didn't know how I felt about that particular compliment. On the one hand, who doesn't like to be called pretty? On the other hand, that 'but' was sort of unpleasant, like it wasn't expected that I could be trans and pretty. But I looked at Hena's surprise and wonder and figured she was coming from an innocent place and took the compliment without anger.

"Thanks, you aren't too bad yourself," I said and she blushed, though looking nonetheless mortified, "And you better thing she is pretty too," I said pointing at my erect cock, "Because you are going to be giving her a little kiss." I said. Hena's mouth and eyes opened in horror.

"No!" she said, "I can't do that."

"You just offered a minute ago," I reminded her. I moved my feet around Henna's back, the heels of my boots in her spine. I wrapped my legs around her, pulling her closer to me. I could feel the warmth of her body now, but she squirmed a little bit.

"I didn't know you were a..."

"Tranny?" I asked.

"Whatever you like to be called."

"I prefer my Republican staffers to call me a tranny," I replied, "And didn't you just say I was pretty?"

"It isn't that...I mean I don't want to but not because...And anyway I can't because...This is the first time I've ever even seen a real cock up close. I don't know what the hell I would do!" She finally blurted out. Her eyes were staring up at me, up from my cock, past my breasts to my face. She didn't know how these pieces fit together or what to do with them.

"My cock is very forgiving. It will come in anyone's mouth as long as they try their best," I said and she looked at me with some uncertainty. She still needed a little motivation, "And you can either suck it and I will destroy the audio table from today or I will leave here with a hardon and find the mayor a pair of headphones." Now I had blackmail within blackmail, if I hadn't been so unbearably horny I might've felt bad about it. But I had to find a way to use Hena against the mayor. Hena's shoulders dropped.

"Okay," she said dejectedly.

"A little enthusiasm for the job maybe?" I said, "I won't hurt. Maybe you will even like it. More than one lesbian has liked my strapless strap-on." Hena got up high on her knees. She was a tall girl and when she got up straight, her breasts were above my knees, even though it was a pretty high desk. She started to move her hands forward slowly.

"Actually stop," I said suddenly. She instantly froze, actually looking a little relieved. A stay of execution, she seemed to think, "This won't work for me."

"Oh thank God..." she started

"Yeah, this pantsuit is atrocious. I need it off," I said, "and be quick." She seemed crestfallen again but she slowly nodded. I knew from the previous night that she knew how to take sexual direction. I also knew that if I was assertive with her, she would do whatever I said.

Hena quickly stood up in front of me. She looked down and started to unbutton the suit jacket. In a few moments she took it off and threw it onto the floor, her white blouse was quite tight and looked nicer than when she was all bundled up. She unzipped her pants and then unbuttoned them, letting them slide off her hips and exposing her gorgeous, reddish-brown legs. She had runway model legs, they seemed to go one forever. Now Hena was wearing her blouse, the bra underneath, and a pair of red panties. She much sexier and she started to get down on her knees in front of me again.

"Oh no honey," I stopped her. I spread my legs wide, letting my cock stick up straight in the air. Her eyes found it and she blushed. I leaned forward dramatically so my cock poked me in the tummy.

"You need to be completely naked sweetie," I said languidly. She huffed once but didn't dare speak. Instead, she nodded solemnly. She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and threw it onto the floor. Her bra matched her panties. It seemed she didn't know which to take off first. Finally, I guess decided that we'd both seen breasts before, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She slid it off her arms and then stood. The same perfect, teardrop breasts I'd see the night before were standing up perky on her chest. My mouth watered and my cock twitched. She noticed, her eyes between my legs. Finally, she slipped her fingers into her panties and rolled them down her body, stretching the waistband out over her perfect round ass. She'd shaved her pussy that morning, the hair even more sparse than it had been the night before, just a short landing strip remaining.

"Good?" she asked, now standing with her arms cross over her tits.

"Uncross your arms and get down on your knees, I want you to suck my cock," I said. She winced but instantly uncrossed her arms and got down on her knees in front of me. Now I looked down and did not see her unflattering pantsuit. Instead, her pert breasts and pretty face were staring back at me. Much better. Hena leaned forward uncertainly and put her elbows on my knees. Her hands started to move forward like she was going to grab my cock, but then she froze, her hands trembling.

"I don't know how...what am I supposed to do?" she asked. Now she wasn't trying to get out of it or anything else. I could sense that she just sort of wanted to get it over with. But she really didn't know where to begin. I needed her touch badly now, so I tried to stay calm and help her.

"Why don't you wrap your right hand around my cock, just at the base," I said. She moved her right hand forward slowly. Soon her cool fingers slid over my shaft and wrapped around it. Her hand was pressed down far, so that her slim fingers were resting on my bare scrotum (My whole body was almost completely devoid of hair below my eyebrows. The small patch above my cock was the only place I even had to wax and I did that fairly regularly). Her slim, gentle fingers felt amazing.

"Like this?" she asked. She sounded less horrified now, just a little bit nervous and actually, sort of eager to please.

"Good girl," I said, running my hands through her lustrous hair. She even managed a wan smile. She did seem to like taking orders, "Now, you are going to pretend for a little while that my cock is a melting ice cream cone. You want to keep that cone from dripping onto your hand. So you need to lick from the bottom to the top with a wide, flat tongue. Can you do that?" I asked.

"I think so," Hena said nervously. She looked back at my cock and opened her mouth. She stuck her tongue out slowly and then began to lean her head forward. She didn't move too quickly, but not so slowly that I would get annoyed. The anticipation was awful and wonderful at the same time. Hena kept her eyes open and I felt her soft, wet tongue press against my shaft. I sucked in air deeply.

"Oh fuck!" I moaned.

"Did that hurt?" Hena asked nervously, pulling back from my cock. I reached forward and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her face back into my cock. Her nose actually bumped into it and she squirmed slightly.

"That was a good sound honey," I said, "Trust me, if you do anything that hurts me I will push you off so fast you'll fall on your ass. Now lick." Hena nodded and stuck her tongue back out. Now Hena was doing what I'd asked. She made her tongue thick and soft and let it slide up my veiny shaft. She licked all the way up to the mushroom tip of my circumcised penis. Her tongue hit the metal of my cock stud and she got a small amount of salty pre-cum on the tip of her tongue. She pulled her tongue quickly into her mouth.

"How does that taste?" I asked. She rubbed her tongue along the roof of her mouth.

"Salty...good," she said. It was clear that that the situation was affecting my young lover as well. Her mind may not have wanted this, but her body was responding anyway. I could smell her arousal and I knew that if I could see between her legs, he lips would be glistening with her own juices.

"Plenty more where that came from," I said. Now Hena didn't need any more encouragement. She took my advice as the gospel. Soon her tongue was flying up my cock, leaving a steady stream of her hot, sticky saliva on it. I felt my urethra throbbing against her tongue and my skin felt incredibly hot where she touched. I writhed on top of the desk, thrusting my hips into Hena's face.

After several minutes of Hena lapping at the underside of my cock, I needed something more, "Now you need to move onto the next step," I said.

"What do you want?" Hena asked, pulling her mouth away from my cock and biting her lower lip. Oh god, did she look innocent and sexy!

"You are going to put the tip of my cock in your mouth and you are going to swirl your tongue around underneath on that big vein that runs on the bottom. And while you are doing that you are going to slide the cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, maybe even into your throat if you can," I explained.

"Okay," Hena said quietly. She kept my cock in her hand, but pulled it slightly away from her body. She opened her mouth and popped the tip into her mouth. Her tongue was instantly swirling around on my tip and I groaned loudly. I put my hands back in Hena's hair. She slowly started to move the cock deeper and deeper into her mouth. Her tongue kept moving, bathing more and more of my cock in her warmth and wetness. Her mouth felt so warm and soft around me, it was the gentlest blowjob I'd ever received.

But also maybe the most passionate. Because the more Hena sucked my cock, the more she seemed to enjoy it. I heard her moan once, as the cock stud rubbed against the roof of her mouth. The moaning actually felt wonderful, vibrating through my body. I could feel the intensity in her every touch. I wondered if this was her love for sex, pure and simple. Or if it was her misplaced lover for Sara Barker, she was giving me the love as a way of protecting her boss. Whatever it was, it felt amazing.

As Hena's lips met her hand wrapped around my cock, she realized that she had a pretty good proportion of my dick inside of her mouth. This seemed to turn her on a little bit. My eyes were open and I was watching her suck me off. I noticed that her nipples had hardened (one was pressed against my shin and I could feel it on my skin). As Hena moved her hand away from cock she brought it down to her chest, rather than on her side like the other. I was surprised to see Hena start to play with her breast gently while my cock slid deeper into her mouth. She pulled at her nipples and squeezed the flesh of her breast.

After another moment, I felt Hena's chin press into my scrotum and her nose touched my abdomen. Her tongue was still writhing underneath, playing with my urethra. My cock was completely inside of her throat, "Oh shit! Good girl, you deep throated on your first try!" I moaned. She sort of smiled around the cock. Her eyes were watering a little and she was just keeping it there. I knew she couldn't breathe.

"Okay," I said, "Now you pull it out of your throat so just the tip is still inside of you. Then you put it back in. See how fast and how tight you can keep it. And use your other hand to massage my balls." I was not generally a very demanding lover, but something about Hena's malleability brought out a dominant streak that I didn't know I had.