Party Games

by E J Greenway

  A jab of humiliation hit him in the chest. Although he knew it was unintentional, and she simply meant to gently tease him, Kathryn was reminding him of all his insecurities in one painful hit. He couldn’t help but raise his voice to her.

  “Don’t ever call me silly again, do you understand? And never, ever, bring up the age thing!”

  Kathryn produced a sultry smile, sauntering up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Colin’s fury instantly began to fall away. Unlike with most of his colleagues, he could never be angry with her for long. She was right; of course she should be allowed out. She was young, she had a life to live. He couldn’t expect her to simply sit in her flat and wait for him to turn up, he had stood her up enough times since their arrangement began.

  Although Colin’s mind was tired and hazy, every nerve in his body felt alive to her touch, and as she kissed him he wanted her just as much as he had done the very first time they met. She tasted of alcohol and sweet perfume – perfume he had bought her – her lips soft yet eager to rein him in. They moved from the kitchen, heading towards the bedroom which had become Colin’s sanctuary, Kathryn tearing off generic layers of clothing which made him the politician to find the man underneath.

  “So, does the Honourable gentleman want me to play the naughty intern?” Kathryn murmured softly as she pushed him back onto the bed. She straddled his groin and leant over him, her breasts gliding sensually across his chest as she kissed his neck, breathing him in. “Because I can be whoever you want me to be, remember.”

  “Oh I know, and you’re amazing at it, but tonight just be yourself.” Colin slid his hands along her thighs and hips, feeling her flawless young skin. He brushed her simple cotton panties with his fingertips, drifting them across her pubic mound, his eyes locked with hers. Kathryn smiled and threw her head back, her dark hair falling about her shoulders as she moaned at his touch.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to scald me?” She cooed. “Because I have been a very, very naughty girl, Mister Deputy Leader.”

  A student at the London School of Economics, Kathryn was in her final year of Government and Economics and Chair of LSE Conservative Future, acing her grades each year and with a bright future ahead of her. They had met in a Westminster bar three years earlier, while he was still a Minister, and she had known exactly who he was and had been star-struck, drinking in every word he spoke, listening as he talked about politics, about philosophy, about his time at Oxford. He had told her funny stories about Jeremy Cheeser, and she had laughed, excitement in her young eyes, while he charmed her. Colin felt a certain power over her but she was no wall-flower. She reminded him of Alice. Alice had been the same age as her when they married. 20 was no age to die.

  But Kathryn was having a tough time at university, her living costs were high and her parents weren’t millionaires. She had ambition, wanted to become an MP one day, and Colin had felt a pang of sympathy. Perhaps he could help? She was certainly attractive and he felt her attraction to him. He couldn’t see such ambition crushed simply because of money. She had accepted his offer and he had paid for a hotel. He took her virginity, she took his money, and a wild, intense relationship followed. Colin would visit her more and more once he was in Opposition, the good money he paid well exceeding her financial needs. He didn’t care. He needed her as much as she needed him. Kathryn looked up to him, but as time passed, she was more than in awe of him - she grew to adore him, and he knew it all too well. He pretended not to notice the way she behaved during their post-coital cuddles, when, like a new bride on her wedding night, she would hug him tightly. Colin knew it was ridiculous, but all sense left him once he walked over the threshold of her student digs. She earned enough from him to live alone, and this was just how they wanted it.

  “Damn, how d’you get to be so bloody good?” Colin took her buttocks in both hands and squeezed just enough to cause her minor discomfort, rubbing them, his palms in firm contact with the cool flesh.

  “I’ve had an excellent teacher.” Kathryn gasped, her glossed lips parted, her slender throat exposed. She jumped as he delivered a light slap to her warmed left cheek, then a slightly firmer physical admonishment to her right.

  “Harder!” Kathryn took his hand and smacked it down on her rear. Colin’s breathing quickened, watching her, yearning for her as she performed for him, her panties damp from desire, her fingers playing, her chest heaving rapidly, teasing him until her body jerked and gave into the pleasure, a soft groan escaping her lungs.

  “So do I get my turn now?” Colin pouted, an intimate expression which could only be produced for a lover. “For a naughty girl you seem to be having all the fun.”

  Kathryn laughed as she flopped down onto him. “You look like a little boy when you do that lip.” She said, leaning up and kissing his puckered mouth. She reached down and grasped him firmly. Colin shuddered. “It’s only a matter of time before you’re leader, I’m sure of it.”

  Colin raised his eyebrows. His body wasn’t the only thing his lover liked to massage. Kathryn ran her finger across his lips, her scent arousing him.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re sure of it.” Colin smiled. “I think you’re the only one. It’s all so bloody frustrating at the moment.”

  “Well, I’m sure I can do something about those – frustrations.” Kathryn giggled, rolling onto her back and allowing him complete access. His lips and hands descended upon her hungrily, but not wishing to rush things, he continued to talk as he took in every inch of her, stroking, kissing, searching. He felt the swell and warm moisture between her legs. She smelled incredible. “I do hope your family still don’t know about us. I think I would be in rather too much trouble, young lady.” Colin teased. He would often gently mock her about their secret, but part of him worried she would tell someone. Whenever Kathryn returned to London after a home visit he watched for signs that his existence in her life may have been shared with another. Mercifully, it never was.

  “You know I would never tell anybody.” Kathryn sighed, running her hand through his thick, greying crop. “You’re my secret, and that is how it will always stay. You know my parents think the money comes from a waitressing job. And anyway, I love being your guilty pleasure.”

  “Always is a long time.” Colin mused. He moved on top of her and playfully kissed her breasts. Kathryn’s sultry smile faltered at his subtle insinuation, but as Colin entered her he laughed softly. “But you’re right, I am definitely guilty of an awful lot of pleasure.”

  Colin delighted in pleasing her, almost as much as she appeared to enjoy pleasing him. She was less pressure than the outside world, with no preconceptions, and her desire for him made him feel more wanted than he ever thought possible. But it was always only temporary; once he stepped beyond her door, he returned to being a malcontent, unsure about his place in the party, in the world. He knew they couldn’t last forever, no matter how much Kathryn would like to pretend otherwise. It was a dream, a fairytale. She was intelligent enough to know it would reach a natural end. Or so he had hoped.

  Minutes later, exhausted and satisfied, Colin lay next to his lover and caught his breath. He sometimes worried that he might seem too unfit, that at twenty-seven years his junior her youthful sexual energy far outweighed his own, but she never appeared disappointed in him, on the outside at least. He didn’t need to ask her if she was also seeing a fellow student, someone young who could meet all of her needs; to her he was a man of power and distinction. Why would she need to bother with mere boys?

  Kathryn leant up on her arm, a slight shimmer of perspiration about her body. There was intense fulfilment on her face at first, but her expression turned more serious. She traced a finger down his chest and stomach. “Going back to the money issue...I don’t want to take it from you anymore, I have enough money now, we don’t need to keep up our arrangement.”

  “You want to end everything?” Colin sat up on the edge of the bed, looking at her incredulously over his shoulder. He had never thought it wo
uld be her to end it, but contemplating life without her left him empty.

  “No, not everything.” Kathryn knelt up behind him. She placed her cool hands on his bare shoulders and began to massage him, sensually, slowly. Colin felt the soothing warmth of her breath across his neck. “I mean I don’t want the money. I just want...well...you.”

  Colin frowned, turning quickly so her hands fell. Her startled expression told him just how angry she had suddenly made him. “No, you must take the money!” He said insistently.

  “But why?” Kathryn shook her head. “I needed the money at first, but now...”

  Colin stood up, snatching his shirt and tie from off the floor. He felt a fury he hadn’t anticipated. “Because I bloody well need you to take it, that’s why! This is a business arrangement, and it must stay that way!”

  Kathryn’s attractive face, framed by her dishevelled brown locks, switched from confusion to hurt. She realised exactly what he was saying. “Colin, I don’t want to continue to be your – your whore, some girl you just pay! I see a side to you nobody else does, and I know that you’re happy when you’re with me! Tell me that’s not the case!”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kathryn! Don’t be so bloody naive!”

  Colin dressed hurriedly. He needed to look respectable again, one never knew who one might bump into, even late at night. Kathryn had snapped her mouth shut and flopped back onto the bed. She watched him dress silently, hugging her knees to her bare chest. Her expression caught Colin’s eye and he thought she looked like a young child, pouting and sulking on the naughty step. She had only been out of her teens a couple of years and right now it was all too apparent.

  A glance in the mirror told Colin he was once again presentable. He felt his breast pocket – enough fags to get him through the night.

  “I’m sorry.” He muttered, sitting back down on the bed. Feeling flattered, his anger had subsided. Kathryn moved forward, reaching out and adjusting his tie carefully. “But you have to understand...”

  “I understand.” Kathryn said softly. Disappointment screamed in her eyes through a pool of tears, but she blinked them away and smiled. “It’s just that, well, I think – I know - I’ve fallen...”

  Colin placed a finger on her full lips, willing them not to speak. “You mustn’t say it. It’s business. That’s all it can be.”

  “Then why do I just want you to make love to me again?”

  The question was to remain unanswered, hanging over them as he kissed her for the last time then rose to his feet. £300 cash would have to do until his next visit, it was all he had on him. She kept her eyes lowered with only a fleeting glance at the pile of £20 notes placed on her sideboard.

  “I’ll be back in a few days.” The MP checked his BlackBerry, but on seeing far too many unread e-mails, returned it to his pocket.

  “When are you resigning?” Kathryn asked him quietly. She curled herself up under her covers.

  “When I’ve got the nominations.” Colin moved towards the bedroom door. He was well acquainted with letting himself out, quietly, in the dark, to the battered car around the corner he had bought with cash to provide him with cover. “But it won’t be long, I can tell you that. Richmond won’t bloody well know what’s hit him.”

  “Listen, I’ve got exams coming up, and I could do with some of your wisdom if I’m to get my own First.” Kathryn said. “So, if you’re willing to provide me with some private tuition, I suppose I could forego some of the cash in return for that. A slightly altered arrangement?”

  Colin smiled as he opened the door. Perhaps she would go far in politics yet.

  Six

  Thursday

  “Latte, please.” Jeremy placed his order at the counter. “And make it a large one.” It made sense to have this meeting away from prying eyes at Westminster. His leader had been particularly explicit in his instructions: somewhere ‘quiet’, which meant ‘where nobody of significance will see you’, find out his position, keep it brief, then get out.

  “You know Jack Fisher more than Anthea does. He likes you, probably something about that accent of yours which makes you more down to earth than the posh boys.” Rodney had said to him after the Shadow Cabinet meeting. “He’ll trust you to make the first move.”

  “Anthea won’t like it.” Jeremy replied. “She’ll hit the roof.”

  “I just think she’s wrong, and we need to get Fisher on side now. Bronwyn agrees.”

  Jeremy was unconvinced.

  “Look.” Rodney smiled reassuringly. “Just speak to him, nothing formal at this stage. Sound him out, see what he proposes. Anthea can pick up official negotiations after you. I’ll speak to her.”

  Jeremy eyed up a nice piece of carrot cake at the rendezvous point, a small cafe towards Trafalgar. He hadn’t had much of a breakfast that morning as Linda had used up the last of the milk on George, so strong black coffee and a promise from the nanny to replenish the stocks had to do. He yawned as he made his way to the back of the cafe. Although the baby was due in two months and Jeremy dreaded the return to sleepless nights and endless nappies, he was rather looking forward to showing the child off to his Wensleydale constituents. A new baby never did a man’s voter appeal any harm, surely?

  He glanced up and saw the back of Fisher standing near the doorway, but he wasn’t alone. Mumbling away to him was a journalist Jeremy recognised from the London Chronicle, quickly typing on a tablet as Fisher puffed out his portly chest and prattled on importantly. He kept his head down, furious that Fisher had rendered their secret location rather less than secret, but even more concerned that he had specifically leaked it. The deal would be much harder to reach and Anthea would have been right. Still, Fisher was one Labour stalwart he had genuine admiration for, and although the man had a big mouth he knew when to play it safe.

  Turning on his heels, after a brief glance around the café, Fisher made a beeline for Jeremy, who suddenly felt more than a little conspicuous.

  “Jeremy! My favourite Tory!” Fisher boomed in his broad, gravelly Devon accent as he grinned, stretching out his arm. Jeremy scraped back his chair and responded with a firm, friendly shake of the hand.

  “Jack. Nice to see you.”

  “Yes, you should be very pleased to see me.” Fisher nodded knowingly before hurrying off to buy a coffee. Jeremy felt riled as Fisher took an age to stir in some sugar and time was marching on; he was committed to a press conference about the party’s poll findings in an hour and knew he was in for a rough ride so needed to prepare. Eventually Fisher ambled back.

  “S’pose you were wonderin’ why I was with that journo, aren’t you?” He asked as he threw himself down into a chair directly opposite the Party Chairman. He stank of cigarette smoke and sweat, mopping his beaded brow with a crumpled handkerchief and breathing deeply through his nose.

  Jeremy raised an eyebrow. Fisher liked playing close to the edge and was obviously prompting him for a reason, but instead only uttered something banal in response. “Well it’s none of my business, Jack.”

  “Nothin’ to do with this, don’t you worry. I am writin’ a book and it is due to be published next autumn just in time for our party conference.” The back bencher winked and sipped at his very sweet cappuccino.

  Jeremy sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach, desperate to appear casual. The fact Fisher was willing to share this information made him suddenly feel more positive about this little tete-a-tete.

  “Is it an attack on the Prime Minister?” Jeremy tried his luck. Fisher pursed his lips and drummed his stubby fingers on the table. As far as Jeremy was concerned, the man’s silence was golden.

  “Anyway, I’m sure your time is far more precious than mine, Mr Chairman, so let’s get to business.” Fisher pulled out papers from his pocket. “I won’t take long, but let me just say this first off - I am talking to you because of my views on this issue, and this issue alone. I don’t like your lot any more than you like us lot so let’s keep this strictly si
ngle-issue. I know that we are both against the Bill for different reasons, but our end-game is the same and that’s what we need to focus on.”

  Unflustered, Jeremy nodded emphatically in agreement as if anything else would be simply unthinkable. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Jack.” He bit into his cake which formed a wodge at the back of his throat. “But, do tell, what is your end-game?” He asked thickly.

  Fisher suddenly thumped the table. The mugs clattered and Jeremy’s fork jumped and flicked cake onto his tie.

  “You guys in opposition have your own job to do, but I want to do my own bit for Parliamentary democracy and show this Government that size isn’t everything.” Fisher said emphatically, his eyes suddenly wide and alive. “I am well aware of the implications of this Bill for my constituency, it would pull away investment and jobs needed in my part of the world, and no matter how our glorious Prime Minister wishes to dress it up the Bill has been poorly thought out with complete disregard for Devon.”

  “Your neighbour doesn’t see it that way.” Jeremy goaded with a wry smile. Wiping himself, Jeremy noted that his laid back exterior was doing its job and Fisher felt he could open his frustrated heart in complete confidence.

  Fisher prickled slightly as he raised his cup to his lips. “Damned woman, we’ve never got on. She should go and speak to some of my constituents for a reality check. In fact she should go and speak to some of her own.” Fisher sipped at his coffee again, a white rim of froth covering his upper lip. “Which brings me nicely to our little deal-breaker.”

  “Oh, yes?” Jeremy continued to let Fisher think he was leading the meeting.

  “If we are to defeat this Bill, then there needs to be something substantial enough to rally colleagues round.” Jeremy observed him cautiously, noticing with mild revulsion Jack’s terrible dandruff. He folded out a crumpled piece of paper, on which was written a long list of names – Fisher’s own backbench colleagues.