by Leo, Cassia
I tried to pay attention to Jack’s advice as he tossed dress after dress out of the shared walk-in closet and onto the floor, but all I could think of was Chase. Where was he taking me? It had to be somewhere no one would recognize him, but places like that didn’t exist for Chase Underwood. He had to be taking me somewhere private. His house? No, the Democratic senator from California didn’t live in L.A. He lived in the hills of San Diego. I remembered watching that on a nightly news special a few weeks ago.
What am I doing?
He’s running for president. Wasn’t that how Marilyn Monroe got herself killed, involving herself with the Kennedys? Oh, great. Now my thoughts were starting to sound like those of a conspiracy nut. This was a bad idea. I had to call him to cancel. If Jessica found out I agreed to go out to dinner with him without telling him to book it through the service I’d probably be fired on the spot.
But… I didn’t have Chase’s phone number. There was no backing out now and part of me was bubbly with glee over it.
I kept thinking of his hands, so soft yet strong, lifting me and positioning me so his cock was at just the right angle. I was getting hot just thinking of it.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Jack, as he began rummaging through my skirts.
I scampered to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I lowered the lid over the toilet and placed one foot on the lid. As I imagined Chase’s tongue on me, my fingers grazed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh and worked their way up. I drew tight circles over my clit as I imagined Chase ravaging me with his mouth, licking and sucking until… Oh, my god. I was fantasizing about the future president giving me head. This was bad.
I felt like a teenager waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up to go the movies. Chase asked me to stand in front of the apartment building to wait for him. I crossed and uncrossed my arms a million times in the ten minutes I waited on the sidewalk. When the black car pulled up in front of me, the door didn’t open automatically as it had outside the hotel last night.
Across the street, a young guy at a bus stop watched me as I approached the car. I quickly opened the door, just a crack, and slipped inside.
His brown hair was not combed in the usual politician’s clean-cut coif. Tonight, his hair was a little messier, in a sexy way, and he wore a gray sport coat over a white polo and black jeans. It was definitely designer clothes, probably tailored just for his exquisite body, but the casual attire still put me at ease.
“You look beautiful,” he remarked, as his driver whisked us away in our black chariot.
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying not to look down at the outfit Jack put together for me. It screamed young, carefree wife of a politician; exactly the look Jack insisted I should be going for. “Where are we going?”
He smiled, that dazzling politician smile, and my stomach vaulted. “It’s a surprise, but I’ll give you a hint,” he said, as he reached across the distance between us and ran his finger softly over the edge of my ear. “I’ve never taken anyone there.”
A shiver passed over my skin as his fingers slithered down my neck before he pulled his hand away. I wanted to believe that he saw something in me that prompted him to choose me over the other seventeen girls working for Jessica; a beautiful quality I had yet to glimpse in myself. But the cynical part of my brain was telling me to run away from this man before he destroyed me the way he had supposedly helped destroy the American economy.
The twenty-three-minute ride from our apartment toward Malibu went from grungy to breathtaking as we drove along the cliffs on Pacific Coast Highway overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I glanced at him every few minutes to find him staring at me, taking in every inch of me.
I still didn’t know if I was being paid for this excursion, and the astronomical balance on my student loans kept flashing in my mind. I wanted to ask him if this was a real date, but I didn’t have the guts to question the future President of the United States.
The car pulled into the parking lot of a deserted restaurant propped on the edge of a cliff. Even the view from the parking lot was spectacular as the sun set over the Pacific.
“Is this place closed?” I asked, as I glanced around the empty lot.
A smile curled the corner of his mouth. “This is my restaurant. I closed it down so we could have dinner in private. You’re not allergic to seafood, are you?”
I shook my head unable to speak. Chase and I would be alone in his restaurant; a restaurant with a gorgeous view. I felt an intense desire to pinch myself.
“Come,” he said, as he exited the car.
I had to keep myself from thinking stupid things like I wish he would hold my hand as we walked toward the restaurant. When we reached the tall, mahogany-framed glass doors, he pulled a single key out the pocket of his sport coat and slid it into the keyhole. He held the door open for me and the smell of grilled seafood and fried garlic made my mouth water.
A man in a black shirt and slacks appeared at my right. “Your coats?” he said, and I hastily removed the ivory blazer Jack picked out for me, but Chase kept his coat on.
He kept his hand on the small of my back as he guided me toward a glass door leading to an outdoor dining area. As soon as we took our seats in our cushioned chairs at the table with the best view of the ocean, another man in black appeared with two glasses of ice. He poured sparkling water over the ice and scuttled away before I could even thank him.
“You’re wondering whether you’re being paid for this,” Chase finally spoke to my worried thoughts.
“What? Of course, not,” I insisted, though the lie felt sticky in my throat.
“Don’t lie to me, Larissa,” he said, and I suddenly felt as if I was eight years old again, being chastised by my father for setting my pet turtle free in the neighbor’s garden. “If we are going to come to an agreement about our arrangement, you cannot lie to me.”
Our arrangement?
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean.”
The waiter returned before Chase could clarify.
“We’ll both have the seared Yellowfin. And bring a fruit basket, please,” he rattled off our order to the waiter without consulting me, and with such politeness; it was extremely hot.
When the glass door closed softly behind the waiter, Chase smiled. “I’m prepared to offer you a position in my campaign.”
I thought I knew what type of position, or rather positions, he was going to offer me, but I couldn’t afford to pay off my student loans and my rent on an intern’s wages.
I shook my head. “I can’t afford to work on your campaign. That’s why I took the job at Black Tie. I’m sorry.”
The waiter materialized again with a tray covered in bowls of fresh cut pineapple, watermelon, strawberries, and raspberries. He set the bowls in the center of the table and turned to leave.
Chase grabbed his arm and the man looked alarmed. “We are not to be bothered until our food is ready. Is that understood?” The man nodded quickly before he scurried back into the restaurant. “I think I can make it worth your while,” Chase continued as he stood from his chair.
He plucked a strawberry from the bowl and took a bite out of the luscious fruit. He savored it for a moment before he swallowed. He leaned over me and his lips fell softly over mine. The taste of strawberry on his tongue made my stomach flutter as he cupped my face in his hands.
“Stand up.”
I obeyed his command immediately, the feet of my chair squealing as he kicked it across the tiled floor. He slunk behind me, running his hand down my arm as his lips grazed my neck.
I began to panic. What was he doing and how long would it take? How much longer did we have before our meals were ready and the waiter returned?
“I’ll pay off your debts, you’ll get a company car, and I can offer you…” he whispered a number in my ear that nearly made my heart stop. “Is that sufficient, Larissa?”
His hands slid down my waist and over my hips. He tugged the skirt of my dress up and I h
ad a moment of panic as his hand glided up my thigh.
“No panties?” he remarked. “I like that.”
Jack was the one who suggested no panties. That was the “carefree” part of the outfit.
Chase’s right hand slid between my cheeks as his left hand reached for a folded napkin on the table. “Put your hands behind your back,” he whispered. I obliged and he immediately tied the napkin around my wrists. “What is your answer, Miss Jacobs?” He turned me around so I was facing him then he grasped both my arms and forced me to sit in my chair. “Just relax.”
He knelt down on one knee and propped my legs on his shoulders as his tongue explored my slick nether regions. The pleasure burst through my center all the way to my limbs and I tossed my head back. His finger curled inside me, stroking my spot as his tongue caressed my bud with increased urgency. My hips bucked uncontrollably as he brought me to the brink of orgasm and stopped.
4
“What’s wrong?” I asked breathily.
He raised his eyebrows. “What is your answer? Can I welcome you to the campaign?”
“Oh, god!” I thought, as I pulsated with a need for him to finish me off. This wasn’t fair.
Then I considered his offer. With my debts paid off and the salary he was offering, plus the car, I wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not this director thought I was ten pounds overweight or that casting director thought my face was not symmetrical enough. So much of my daily worries would disappear with a single word. Then there was the issue of his wife. Would she know? Did she already know?
“I don’t know,” I said before his blue eyes could sway me toward a premature yes.
He smiled as stood up and untied the napkin around my wrists and helped me push in my chair just before the waiter arrived. My insides were aching to have him inside me, but we would have to wait.
The waiter placed two plates laden with steaming seared tuna and vibrant grilled vegetables. The smell was intoxicating.
“Dig in. You’re going to need your strength for when I attempt to convince you later.”
I gobbled up my food as fast as I could without making a mess or looking like a complete pig. When I was done, I patted my mouth with my napkin and took a sip of water, nearly spilling the drink on myself as something prodded its way between my legs. I looked at Chase and his expression was intense as I realized it was his foot fondling me.
“Are you ready?” he asked and I nodded frantically. “Good. Stand up.”
As I stood from the table, he also stood and swiped all the plates off the table, sending a bowl of raspberries careening off the side of the cliff to the rocks below. My heart raced as he glided across the distance between us. He grasped my arms and turned me so I faced the now barren tabletop.
He pulled my dress up and over my head and tossed it to onto the tiled floor. I felt completely exposed worrying if our waiter or the kitchen staff were watching from beyond the tinted glass wall separating us from the interior dining space.
“Bend over,” he ordered me, and I did as he pleased.
My breasts pressed against the cool glass tabletop as he leaned against me, his weight pressing my belly against the glass as his tongue explored the folds of my ear. He entered me as he bit down on my shoulder and I gasped loudly.
“You are going to accept,” he grunted, his arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled me closer so he could enter me even deeper. “Aren’t you?”
His other hand reached around and caressed my clit, alternating between a soft and urgent touch. I screamed with pleasure and my cries echoed over the cliffs. My body quaked, my legs turning to jelly, as he brought me to orgasm, but he wasn’t finished.
He pulled out of me and continued to rub my bud as he aimed to make me come again. I was almost there when his finger slid back and eased between my ass cheeks. He massaged and stroked gently until his thumb slid into the hole and I panted with bliss. He pulled out his finger and my juices guided him into the place no man had ever gone.
“Oh, my god!” I screamed. “Yes!”
He licked my neck as he pounded into me. “Is that ‘yes’ for me?”
The table shook beneath us as he stabbed me over and over again. The warm sensation of an inevitable orgasm spread through me.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”
His warmth filled me as he came inside me and collapsed on top of my back. My breasts squeaked against the glass tabletop as he kissed my neck while he was still inside me.
Does he want to go again? I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.
Just as this thought crossed my mind, he pulled out. I turned to face him, feeling utterly exposed with the ocean breeze accentuating the wetness on my neck and between my legs.
“I’ll take you home so you can pack a bag. We’re hitting the trail tomorrow,” he said, as he zipped up his pants and tucked his polo back into his jeans. He picked up my dress and handed it to me.
“What about your wife?” I asked. I had to ask. If I was going to accompany him on the campaign trail I had to know if I was risking having my name and dress size plastered across the covers of tabloid magazines.
His eyes bore into me, probably trying to figure out the subtext beneath my question. “My wife and I haven’t so much as breathed on each other the entire time we’ve been married. My wife has been in love with another man since before she even met me, rather, before she was hired by my campaign manager.”
I began to wonder why such a handsome, powerful man had to hire a wife and an escort. Then I realized it probably had to do with the fact that you can buy silence. Is that what he wanted me for: my silence?
“Don’t let all those questions brewing inside your mind stand in the way of the opportunity of a lifetime,” he said, as he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’m not going to be the president forever.”
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Chase
Part II: Disclosure
1
Carrying on a secret affair with the most wanted politician in America was tricky at best. At it’s worst, my affair with presidential candidate Chase Underwood would be a racing nightmare of primping and prepping for one publicity event after another. At it’s best, our affair was the naughtiest, most pleasurable relationship I’d ever been in.
Relationship.
Chase’s word, not mine. The word was plastered all over the nondisclosure agreement he had presented to me last night, right after giving me multiple orgasms with his talented tongue.
“That’s not fair,” I had said, as he insisted I read aloud sections fifteen through nineteen while he lightly kissed every inch of my body. “‘Number fifteen: Recipient shall submit to Candidate’s requests, whether related to the Campaign or sexual in nature, in a timely manner; preferably, as soon as such request is made.’” I paused and reread the sentence to myself to make sure I had read it correctly. “What is this?” I asked, as he kissed the inside of my knee.
The hotel lamp cast a soft, golden glow over his brown hair and reflected brilliantly off the few gray hairs he refused to dye.
“I just want to make sure we’re clear on the terms of this relationship,” he said, his lips moving lightly over my knee to the top of my thigh. “Keep reading.”
He slid his hand over my abdomen until he reached my breast. My back arched as my fingers clenched tightly around the sheets of our hotel bed and the contract in my other hand.
I swallowed my pleasure and continued. “‘Number sixteen: Recipient shall submit to regular mental, physical, and dental health examinations. Recipient shall also maintain her physical and mental health through regular exercise, healthy diet, therapeutic spa treatments, and, if necessary, regular sessions with a clinical therapist.’” I stopped reading and Chase chuckled, as if he knew what I was about to say. “Therapy?”
“Come now, Larissa. I see a therapist. I’m not implying you need one, but it gets pretty stressful when the campaign is running
at full tilt. I want you to know that if you need to talk to anyone, other than me, I can provide that. All my staffers get full health benefits.”
“Of course, they do. What would the press think if you didn’t provide your employees health care when you’re out there stumping for single payer?”
“You’ve been doing your homework.” He kissed my hipbone, sending a shiver through me that stiffened my nipples. “Keep reading. I love listening to your voice.”
“‘Number seventeen: Recipient shall address Candidate respectfully at all times, in public as ‘Sir’ and in private as ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. President’.’” My mouth went slack with shock. “In private? Are you kidding?”
His tongue traced a ring around my nipple and the cool air in the hotel room made my entire body shiver.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Larissa.” His erection grazed my thigh as he slithered up and kissed my collarbone. “You’re being a very bad girl.”
“Don’t you mean I’m being a very bad recipient?”
“Don’t make me bring out my paddle.”
Something about this sentence threw me over the edge. “Put it in,” I murmured.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Put it in, please… Mr. President.”
He slid into me and I moaned as I tossed the contract to the floor.
“Say it again.”
“Mr. President,” I said, relishing the feel of the word on my tongue as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Faster, please, Mr. President.”
The air inside the private jet was too warm and smelled too strongly of leather and French roast coffee. Three days spent with Chase and I already knew his favorite brand of coffee, his shoe size, and the password to his Facebook profile. He gave me a long list of his internet passwords, which I would be using to check his emails, Tweet for him, and post status updates on his behalf. I had gone from rookie escort to Senior Personal Assistant to the future president of the United States in less than a week.