Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  “Let’s take them off then,” he murmured.

  “But then I’m naked, and you’re not.” I pretended to pout. “That’s not like last time, and I’ll feel weird.”

  As he started to laugh, he lifted his head away from my chest. “Fine. I’ll take off my clothes too.”

  That sounded good to me. I shimmied out of my jeans, trying not to ogle as he was in a hurry to strip before me. Since I hadn’t been around a naked man in years, I failed.

  Walking toward me again with all his glory on display, he grinned. “If you’re trying to avert your eyes, you’re not doing a very good job.”

  I really was unable to move my eyes from his dick which was as perfect as the rest of him. “Maybe I should just stare then, because you’re definitely worth the effort.”

  “Then I’ll feel self-conscious.”

  “Doubtful.” I snorted. “That’s something that hasn’t changed through the millennia or throughout the animal kingdom—males are always proud of their penises.”

  “Proud?” he asked. He didn’t let me answer as he kneeled beside me and gave me a long passionate kiss. Afterward, I caught my breath, as he smiled and then looked down at his fully formed erection. “Why don’t we say that it’s just my most precious body part?”

  “Same thing.”

  He rose, sat on the sofa, and pointed to my legs. “If we’re going to do this right, I need you to spread your legs again.”

  A pang of disappointment hit me. Was that the end of the foreplay? Did he want to jump right into intercourse? I hoped he wasn’t that kind of guy. Slowly widening my legs, I became tongue-tied and pointed to his erection. “I’m… uh… a little farther behind you.”

  “Not for long.” He smiled and gave me another long kiss. He then trailed the kisses down my chest and belly and onto my inner thigh. He murmured along the way, “We don’t have to do everything the same as the last time.”

  Seeing where his mouth was headed, I became hopeful. “Should we go to my bed?”

  “Not yet,” he said. His eyes were fiery, as if he knew he was engaging in delicious torture. He placed his hands on my legs and gently spread them wider. “I’ve got something to do here.”

  We both watched as his right hand went right where I’d hoped, and I lifted my hips in further encouragement. When he lowered his mouth down to me, I gasped, “Oh, Michael.”

  “I thought you might like it,” he mumbled between delicious licks.

  “I do.”

  “Do you like this?” he asked, taking a long lick. Then he concentrated on tickling my clit with the tip of his tongue. “Or this?”

  I gulped and managed to groan, “Both are good.”

  He took his tongue and managed to circle around my vagina. “Is this good?”

  “Sure,” I said. All this verbal communication during oral was unbelievably hot.

  “Of course, then there’s this.” He commenced sucking on my clit, and then abruptly pulled away. “What do you think?”

  Weaving my fingers into his hair, I gently guided his mouth back to me. “I’ll take a little of everything.”

  That was pretty much my last coherent sentence. Pleasure began building at such an astonishing rate that I became lost, especially when he added his fingers to the mix. He seemed to know exactly how much pressure to use and the perfect locations to use them. No one had ever been able to bring me around like that. I kept one hand in his tousled hair, gently encouraging him, while I grabbed a pillow for something to brace myself against the storm hitting my body. When I came, I cried out his name so loud, I worried someone might have heard.

  I opened my eyes and smiled because it had been great and because he looked supremely proud of himself. “That was amazing,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he said, sitting up. He then kissed me hard before pulling me with him as he stood. “Now, we’re going to your room.”

  “Why now?” I laughed.

  His voice was assured, with almost a premeditated tone. “Because the first time I make love to you will be in your bed.”

  “What about the second?”

  “That will be tonight, so it will still be in your bed.”

  “And the tenth?” I asked hopefully.

  His eyes went to the ceiling, pretending to mull it over. “That one could happen on a sofa.” Taking me in his arms, he said, “But the hundredth definitely needs to be on a beach.”

  “The hundredth?” I asked, arching a brow. That meant he thought we were going to be together awhile.

  He flashed a big grin. “Okay. Maybe the hundred and first.”

  ~~~

  The next morning I woke at my normal early hour because my internal alarm clock didn’t observe weekends or holidays. This wasn’t just any morning. I turned to Michael, who slept so peaceful, curled at my side with his handsome, scruffy face on my pillow. It had been an amazing night, full of laughter, sex, more sex, and eventually sleep. I raised my hand to touch his messy hair, but stopped when I thought I might wake him. I didn’t want to disturb him, and as I drew my hand back, intense warmth radiated inside me. I love him.

  Oh my God. I gulped hard as I considered those feelings. As I tried to talk myself out of it, I decided it was just a rush of oxytocin running through my brain after being deprived of sex for so long.

  Then his eyes fluttered open, as a bleary smile crossed his face. “Morning, beautiful.”

  “Morning.” I was basking in the moment.

  Neither one of us said anything for a few seconds. He kept his smile, but his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to figure something out. Then he touched my hair and slowly let his hand brush across my cheek. With his eyes now shining on me, he said, “I love you, Jessie.”

  My smile turned into a schoolgirl grin. He’d been thinking what I’d been thinking. Leaning in close to his lips, I whispered, “I love you, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Michael

  After Jessie had said the magic words, my heart surged, and I beamed. “I’m a lucky man.”

  “And I’m a lucky woman.” She burrowed even closer to me.

  We shared a long, happy kiss, which I ended by easing her onto her back as I raised above her. I brushed my nose against hers. “I think I’ve known deep down for weeks, but it’s only recently that I finally realized it. I suppose I should’ve waited to say it, but considering what I’m feeling right now, I’m pretty stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid,” she said, running her fingers through my hair. “I think we’ve both put some strong defenses up.”

  “Thank God we broke them down because I’m pretty damn happy at the moment.”

  “So am I.” Jessie lifted her body against my morning erection and laughed. “Is this a sign of happiness?”

  We’d spent the past nine hours in a constant tug-of-war between sleep and sex with one activity winning only for a while before the other need took over. I didn’t see why we shouldn’t continue. I pressed my dick against her leg. “It’s a sign that I’m naked and in bed with you.”

  “I think that’s a great sign.”

  Her expression was happy, with a naughty smirk, but something came over me. I wanted to tell her the intense combination of love and lust I felt at that moment. Running my hand along the curve of her body, I said resolutely, “I love you, Jessie Clark.”

  She blinked, and the playful smile disappeared. She’d clearly grasped everything I meant because she cradled my face in one hand and declared in an equally strong voice, “I love you, Michael. I really do.”

  ~~~

  Later that morning, I stared down at the fine breakfast Jessie had prepared for me. I grimaced at the fried eggs that were a perfect over easy—just the way I liked them.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are they cold?”

  “No, they’re delicious,” I said, putting down my fork. “I’m just bummed that I have to leave. I need to work.”

  “Well, I do, too.” She laughed. “It’s not like we’re in ou
r twenties and able to goof off all day.”

  “I know. I’d just like to spend the day with you.”

  “You could work with me… here. I’ve got that little office if you need to make calls. I usually work here in the kitchen or on the sofa.” The grin on her face increased as if she was warming up to her own idea. “We could make dinner together at the end of the day.”

  “I like it.” I smiled. “Maybe we could take a break in the middle of the day.”

  “A break?” She was quick to get my hint and crossed her arms with a warm stare. “I like breaks. Maybe we could take more than one?”

  Her voice had trailed off into a question, but it was obviously meant as a statement.

  “Could we now?” I took her hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze, before sliding it up her bare arm. “Am I benefiting from some pent up demand after all these years?”

  “Maybe a little.” She tousled my hair. “You seem pretty eager yourself.”

  “Damn straight, I’m eager with you!” I pointed to my plate. “Let me finish this and run to my house. I’ll take a shower, walk Daisy, get my laptop and be back in half an hour.”

  Jessie’s smile became devilish. “How about you finish your meal, and go home for Daisy and your computer… but first you take a shower here with me?”

  “You’re full of great ideas this morning Congresswoman Clark.”

  “I’m getting in the shower right now,” she said, rising from her chair. She touched my arm. “You join me when you’re done.”

  I tried not to wolf down my food too quick, but the noise of the shower was a tempting reminder that Jessie was naked and awaiting me. Less than five minutes later, I walked in the steamy bathroom. Through the wet and foggy shower door, I could see the outline of Jessie’s body as she leaned her head back to rinse her hair. The sight was inspiring. Within a few seconds, I stripped down and entered the shower.

  Her smile grew as she gave my naked body a once over. “Care to join me?”

  “Very much,” I said, closing the door behind me. The small shower left only a few feet between us. Close enough to examine, but far enough away to appraise, I saw a drenched Jessie in all her beauty. Beads of water clung to her hair, and her skin was bright and flushed. My eyes traveled lower where a few soap suds rested on her breasts and even lower which brought back memories of our night and morning together. I smiled and touched her hair. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

  Throwing her arms around my neck, she whispered in my ear, “I hope not.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Chuck

  Four months later, the White House Rose Garden was in full bloom as Chuck Benjamin hung in the back of the gaggle of press. The President was scheduled to sign new antitrust legislation. Though he’d just had a private interview with the President, Chuck wanted to hear what questions other reporters would ask.

  Unlike the rest of the press, he was writing a more in-depth piece to run later the following week, rather than a story for the twenty-four hour news cycle. Official bill signing ceremonies were by White House invitation only, and guests who would ring the President as he signed the legislation were chosen for their work on the new law and their political weight. The President used a different pen for every letter of his name as he signed the bill so the greatest number of pens could be distributed to the people who most influenced the bill’s passage. Recipients of the pens always proudly displayed them, but even those who wouldn’t get pens were happy simply to be at a historic event, and everyone wanted to be in the camera shot with the President.

  As the press waited for the dignitaries to assemble and jockey for the best position behind the President, Chuck studied his most recent emails. A man’s voice interrupted his reading.

  “Got a lot of things going on these days, Chuck?”

  Chuck raised his head to see Carl Perl, a more junior reporter with a Capitol Hill newspaper. Carl often sought him out at such events. Chuck thought him a nice enough guy, but Carl wore his ambition to rise above the gossip rag and onto a legitimate paper on his sleeve. His questions of Chuck were always designed to nab a tidbit of information that might make his reporting stand out. “Hi Carl. How are you?”

  “Good. What’s going on?”

  “I’m writing a big piece on how this bill got where it did, but it’s less about the bill and more about the players involved.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It won’t run for a while. What are you working on?”

  Carl shrugged. “Same old. Same old. I haven’t been getting the best assignments. I’m only here because I’m tailing the Majority Leader today for another reporter.”

  “He’s here?” Chuck stood on his toes as his height once again limited his view of the main event.

  “He’s right over there shaking Michael Grath’s hand.” Carl was pointing to the left. “Do you see him now?”

  Chuck strained his neck, but still could only see the backs of people’s heads. He hated admitting he was too short to see something, so he lied and pretended to study the scene. “Oh, yeah…”

  After a few seconds of silence, Carl spoke as if he was ruminating on a nagging thought. “Grath… I’ve been wondering about him.”

  Chuck’s ears perked up, hearing Michael’s name, but he didn’t betray his interest. “Yeah?” he asked, in a bored voice.

  “I live down the block and across from him, and I see him when I’m walking my dog. She’s pretty old, so I have to take her out almost round the clock. I see Grath a lot on the other side of the street. I gotta say, the man is keeping odd hours.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “He never sleeps at his house.”

  “How do you know that?” Chuck was curious as to how the young reporter was sniffing out the story.

  “Every night—and it’s always at night, usually after ten—he takes his dog out for a walk and leaves his place. Sometimes in his car, but usually he’s in running gear and he sprints out the door. Then, before dawn—and always before daylight—he comes back to his place in the same clothes he left in.”

  “Huh.” Chuck’s expression was a thoughtful one, but inwardly he was smiling. So Michael’s spending the night with Jessie. He wanted to tease out what Carl suspected. “So what do you think is going on?”

  “Well, he’s seeing somebody, and for some reason, that person never comes to his place. That’s a little weird don’t ya think?”

  “Maybe, she’s allergic to dogs.”

  Carl chuckled. “Maybe, but his divorce hasn’t been finalized by the court yet. He’s probably trying to keep it quiet, but still, it seems odd. Either Grath doesn’t want the person to be seen at his place, or that person doesn’t want to be seen there.”

  Chuck blinked blankly at the information, thinking to himself that Carl forgot the third likely scenario, which actually was the case. Both parties didn’t want to be seen together, and for some reason they’d decided Michael’s place was too conspicuous. While Chuck wondered what made Jessie’s home more discreet, he played along with Carl. “So you keep saying ‘the person.’ You don’t think Grath is with a man, do you?”

  “I don’t think so, but you never know. He could be another gay Republican member of Congress living on the down low. After all, there’s a giant closet full of them in Washington.”

  “They really should come out. If they’d realize that the only people who care if someone is gay are a tiny backwards quarter of their party, their lives would be a lot happier.” Chuck truly believed it, but he still didn’t like Michael being caught up in what, unfortunately, would play out as a tawdry story. Throwing the junior reporter a bone, he asked, “Have you ever spent any time with Grath?”

  “Not at all. He doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “I’ve talked to him some.” Chuck shook his head. “He’s not gay.”

  “So, if he’s not gay, it’s a woman he’s trying to hide…” Carl’s eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s a staffer? That would
be interesting. Though depending on her age and where she works, there’s not necessarily anything wrong with that, but it’s a good story.” He looked around them for a moment. “Maybe she’s a reporter? Or she works that the White House? Now that’s a better story.”

  With a smile, Chuck patted Carl on the back and started to walk away. “I’ll let you know if I come up with something.”

  Throughout the day, Chuck mulled over his conversation with Carl. He knew a hungry young reporter like him would eventually discover whom Michael was seeing. The idea of Jessie and Michael being outed in a gossipy way bothered Chuck. He liked them as people, and also as smart and capable legislators. They deserved better treatment.

  That evening, Chuck called Michael, who was cheerful, but surprised to hear from him. The usual tone of a congressman’s enthusiasm over talking to the press came through. “What can I help you with, Chuck?”

  “Well, I’ve found something out, and I’m talking with you because you’re involved.” Chuck waited a moment before adding the clincher. “I’ll also call Congresswoman Clark.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Hesitancy had replaced excitement in Michael’s voice. “Is this about the amendment we worked on together?”

  “No. It’s about your personal life.”

  The phone went silent, before Michael eventually asked, “What about my personal life? Is this regarding my divorce?”

  “Somewhat. I’ve thought for a while that you and Jessie were seeing each other, which frankly, I don’t find newsworthy, even if the court hasn’t yet approved your divorce. My paper would never write a stand-alone story like that. But now I know another reporter with a less discriminating paper who is interested in reporting on your private life. Frankly, I’d like to help you out.”