I slowly picked up speed as what seemed to be her climax approached. I had forgotten how much more work it was to get a woman off. It took what seemed like both an eternity and a moment until she finally climaxed, becoming a bit wetter and looking exhausted. She smiled.
I guessed I’d have to call my personal angel for her after all.
On the Trail
My fingers had just touched the warm, bronze door handle of the Diamond Club when I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my coat. I pulled the door open, hoping it was just a text, but no such luck. I plunged my hand into my pocket to silence it and glanced at the screen. It was work, of course.
“What?”
“You need to come back, there’s someone here to see you.”
“I told you to clear my afternoon, I’m on my way home.”
“Well turn around, you won’t believe who this is.”
My thumb and forefinger found their way to my brow.
“So you want me to ask? Just spit it out”
I could hear the pitch of my assistant’s voice climb to a squeak, “It’s John Samson, from the news!”
“Who?”
Then it hit me. God I hope I’m not on speaker, “The senator?”
“Yes! He says he’s in town and set something up with Roman, but he’s giving an interview across town about the wedding..”
God damn it Roman, leaving your aspirations of relevance in my lap. When would he realize he was just another spoiled, lying… “I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”
By now the doorman had noticed me standing just inside club on my phone, holding the door open with my elbow, which was a pretty big faux pas in a place like this. He shot me a look somewhere between disdain and boredom.
“Could you close the door?”
“I’m leaving.” I shot back.
“But you just got here,” he quipped, the sarcasm dripping from his lips.
I lunged past a pair of young men in suits who were just entering and out the door. “I won’t be long, like you,” I snarled, as I exited the Diamond Club. My fun was spoiled, but I still shouldn’t have taken it out on the kid. He started it though.
A light drizzle had started to fall in my short walk from the office, and now the weather was somewhere between rain and a heavy fog. The dampness clung to my coat, my purse, my hair. Was I actually worried about how I looked? I was on my way to glad hand a politician, turn down his request for a check, and suggest he tell his staff to sign up for the number one dating website for busy professionals, “Whoever that is…” I muttered under my breath. But what a story he had. From unknown backbencher in the Senate to his few days of glory as his party’s front runner for president, up until actual votes were counted, John Samson had proved an appealing choice of leader to some subset of the American people. Now he fancied himself a friend of the Internet thanks to some flood of support he’d received from a few of the more radical sites about his support of something. That’s all I could tell from his bio on Wikipedia before the elevator dinged back at the office. The temp covering reception seemed surprised to see me.
“Didn’t you leave?”, she asked, obviously surprised by my reappearance.
“Don’t I sign your checks?” Snarkier than I should be, but I wanted to get back to my plans for the evening, and they didn’t involve getting lip from a woman ten years my junior…well, not yet at least. God, what had I been doing these last few days? Where did this attitude come from? No time for introspection, focus on this last meeting and get the hell out of dodge before Roman had another idea about how to screw our valuation, and my life.
“Senator!” I beamed as I entered my office. Senator John Samson was looking out the window at the view. He was tall, his light brown hair greying slightly at the temples. His dark, pinstripe suit looked expensive, something I’d come to expect from those employed by the taxpayers. He cut quite the charming figure, the reflection of his face in the glass, transposed over the view of the slowly dimming city, the grey of the storm clouds complementing the blue gray of his eyes… He turned.
“Call me John.”
Oh shit. He was one of those. The handsome, charming, and trying to come across as vaguely normal types. The type I had the soft spot for.
“Well, John, it’s so nice to meet you.” I offered my hand. The senator shook it, a firm, but tender embrace, his hands large and gnurled, but still soft.
“Thanks, Ms. Young, I’m just trying to avoid your star struck intern, and not so impressed staff, so I took refuge in here.” He shrugged, “Hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s not a problem, but I’m not entirely clear on the purpose of this visit…” I sat on the corner of my desk, making sure to cross my legs so the senator wouldn’t get any ideas, or was it my own desires II was trying to contain?
“Yes, well, you see…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at his shoes. A redness filled his cheeks, was he blushing? Senator Samson, cleared his throat, then continued, “It’s a bit of a sensitive topic, you see, I want to open an account on your site.”
I could suppress a guffaw, though it may have sounded more like a chortle to my audience. I crossed my arms, then realized how that looked and uncrossed them. “Senator, you don’t need to come in to our office to do that.” Shit, I sounded like a total bitch all of a sudden, time to walk that statement back, “We can help you setup an account from the privacy of your home without any link back to your professional life, if that’s why you’re asking, but…” this is where I’d have to be delicate, “John, I have a feeling there’s more going on here than just what you’ve said.”
Now he was the one who looked like he couldn’t decide how to stand. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and put his hands in his pockets, then drew his hands back out in front of him as if about to deliver a speech from a podium. “John, spit it out, I can see something is troubling you.” He suddenly looked relieved.
“It’s my wife, we’re separated, and I just don’t know how to live like this,” His face returned to a more normal shade, “Single, I mean, it’s just not something I’m used to.” I let out a quick laugh to break the tension.
“I understand, how long has it been since…”
“We separated?”
“Yes.” That wasn’t quite all that I wanted to know. I was suddenly feeling a sense of affection for John, as he seemed more real, more vulnerable…
“Four months, but our marriage has been over for longer than that, it’s just been so long…”
I wasn’t listening. John Samson was in full lecture mode, pacing back and forth across my office window, occasionally glancing at the greying skyline outside. Seeing a sitting United States Senator open himself up like this was stirring something inside me. Could I do it? Why was I even considering it?
“…and so I’m not really sure how to go about this, and the bar scene in DC…”
I uncross my arms again and let them fall to my side. I also uncrossed my legs, letting my thighs slide apart just an inch.
“…not to mention my staff, they couldn’t keep their…mouths…” John suddenly stammered. He’d noticed my legs.
“So tell me John,” I slid my hips down and off the corner of my desk, which succeeded in hiking my skirt up further, so now there was no doubt about what he was looking at, “how long has it been?”
He took a step a step closer to me, and I had his full attention. I hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and pulled the senator to me. I draped my other hand across his shoulder and twirled a lock of his hair around my finger. I leaned in close to his ear, “How long since someone…” and I exhaled gently over his ear lobe.
“I…Miss Young,” he breathed. I moistened my lips with my tongue, then gently kissed his ear lobe.
“Shh…” I let my tongue trace the edge of his ear. John exhaled slowly. My hands found their way to his belt. This had to be quick. John inhaled as my fingers found his fly and slid the zipper down. Reaching inside and feeling his turgid manhood,
I had a realization.
“Boxer briefs. Clever.” This made him smile, or I presume it did, my face was still nuzzling his neck.
“Yeah, well…”
I reached my arm across his shoulders and placed one raised finger across his lips. He got the message and drew my finger into his mouth. I plunged my fingers deeper into the soft, warm confines of his trousers, feeling him swell as my fingertips grazed his already tumescent member.
I bit John’s ear gently, then slid down to my knees on the floor in front of him. He held my wrist and kept my index finger in his mouth, his tongue circling around and around. I moaned gently, something was soothing about the way he was worshipping my finger. With my free hand, I quickly unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it out of my skirt. John took a long look at my breasts, cupped in the same demi cup black and white push-up that had gotten me so much attention just a few days before. I knew this bra was worth the investment, or so I thought, as he closed his eyes and continued to tongue my finger. “Hmm, wonder what that is, “ I mused, only slightly offended at his disregard for my upfront presentation.
The fly of John’s underwear was trickier than I was hoping. I drew his penis through the tight elastic and let my tongue lick the head, collecting the tiny bead of moisture that had gathered. I reset my grip to expose more, giving John a firm tug. My reward was a small groan from the target of my affections. Fuck, he was small. Not tiny, not unworkable, but nothing to show off in the Senate locker room. Did they have a locker room? My mind was drifting, probably from the disappointment. Focus. I had a goal in mind, though maybe not the same one I’d had a minute ago.
Despite a muffled protest, I pulled my finger from John’s mouth and used both hands to fully free Little John. Miniature John. The member’s member. There I was, spacing out again. Focus. I gave John’s now bare ass a squeeze, then wrapped my lips around the head of his cock. I tightened my lips and let my tongue find the ridges of him, his breathing quickening with each swirl. I let my left hand slide lower and gave his cheek another squeeze. This elicited another moan, an encouraging moan. Was that why he was all over my finger with his tongue?
I leaned in and let the rest of John’s now wildly swollen manhood slide into my mouth. I could feel it almost reaching the back of my tongue, but not quite. Poor, poor man. My right hand found its way to his heavy scrotum and gently rubbed his testicles together. I massaged them slowly. They were firm, but with the soft edge indicating this was a man in need. I continued the ministrations of my tongue on his cock, feeling him pulse and swell as I stroked his soft purse. John grabbed my fingers behind his back and drew my fingers back into his mouth. First just the one, then my middle finger. He was licking them more vigorously now, getting them wet and sticky. Was this another sign of encouragement?
I moaned softly as I bobbed my head back and forth on John’s cock, letting him know I was game for what he had in mind. He released my hand and placed it back behind him, lower this time. I pinched his butt, “Oooh!” he exclaimed, and I let out a little giggle as he jumped, his plump member bouncing off my palate. A quick little smack on the behind put him back at ease, and I let my hand trace the soft crevice between his cheeks.
I pulled my head back so just the tip of the Senator’s cock was in my mouth, then let my middle finger find his most private of places. I inhaled sharply and drove my face down onto his cock as I slid the tip of my finger inside him. John didn’t jump this time, he pushed back, driving more of my finger inside him. “Well, someone knows what they like…” I thought. My finger bent to trace the path to his prostate, and I didn’t hesitate. A gentle push and I felt his penis jump in my mouth. Another press, another jump. This was fun. I had a United States Senator wrapped around my finger.
John’s moans grew louder and closer together as my lips stroked his cock and my finger stroked his prostate. I sucked his cock deeper, my nose nuzzling his pubic hair. My tongue was circling the shaft when I felt him start to spasm. I had to make a choice right now, and I decided to do the wrong thing. My finger slid even deeper inside the Senator’s clenched anus and triggered a torrent of his warm, sticky cum into my mouth. John’s hot goo filled my mouth, spurt after spurt, until I couldn’t keep up and pulled him from me, the last two jets of sperm landing squarely on my shoulder.
Perfect.
Then the door to my office swung open.
“Nice work, Ms. Young, he was sure he’d have some fun with you, but I had my doubts,” said a woman I didn’t recognize. She was maybe 50, reddish hair worn at her shoulders, wearing a grey jacket and matching a-line.
“Oh hey there, sweetheart!” John cried. He quickly pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. He gave who I now knew to be his wife a quick peck on the lips. “I think she’s got something for you.” I was too stunned to know what to think. His wife? He’d lied to me. Of course. Mrs. Samson walked over where I was still kneeling, and grabbed my chin, pulling me up to her. She kissed me, I let out a gasp, but not before I found her tongue in my mouth sweeping up her husband’s spunk. She quickly swallowed his jizm and wiped her lips with the back of her hand, “Thanks for doing that, I had a meeting with Roman. You may want to put your shirt back on.”
Delay of Game
I couldn’t get Leonard out of my head. His silky, silver manner and rich baritone are saccharine sweet. Much like ice cream, I crave it in absence, but tend to overindulge. His eerie respect for women is both erotic and suspicious, but that never stops me.
I can’t help but share a story.
I’ll start by saying this: I know I have certain weaknesses. Some people might call them addictions, but I don’t know about that. I think back to stories of when my parents were my age. Nobody considered smoking or booze or too much sex addictions, they were just things that people did. Nervous habits. Quirks.
These days, everything is suddenly a disorder. If a girl likes a cigarette once in a while, it’s considered a life threatening habit. If a girl enjoys a martini at lunch, she needs a sponsor. If a woman craves a man’s attention, she’s a slut. Back when the Diamond Club first opened, it wasn’t like that. Not for us, anyway.
We were young. It began as a typical Tuesday, where I spent the morning hating my job at the bank. Tina, the disagreeable manager I opened the branch with, retired quickly to her desk where she typically did nothing for the rest of the day. Leonard, in true fashion, had skipped class and called me at work.
“Line 1,” Tina said with an implied eyeroll.
Ugh, a customer already. I picked up and tried my best to sound professional. “Brianna speaking, how may I help you?”
“Hey, sweetie. How’s about you and I get an early dinner at your favorite place?”
I was instantly light headed. My heart pounded, but I had to at least make an effort to keep it together. “Oh, you. The Diamond Club?”
“Of course! Meet me there at 4.”
How could I get out of work early? They would be short handed without me. Then, with the inevitability of a rushing tide, the thought of pressing my eager cheek against his furry chest quickly belayed reality, and I decided to be ill later in the afternoon. It was a good thing I wore this skirt
On queue, at 3:30 I was suddenly taken by the weather and had to leave. I assured the other ladies that I was ok to take the MUNI back to my apartment, and promised to lie down.
Lie I did.
As the train rolled into Van Ness station, I was weak with anticipation. The Diamond Club was a few blocks away. I walked quickly, and could almost feel my moist womanhood sliding with each step.
I reached the door, smiled briskly at the bouncer, and entered the club.
I sat at an empty table for a little while and noticed that the TVs were showing a local station. It looked like some folks were getting ready for a baseball game. I motioned for the server and ordered a dirty martini, no olives thanks.
I sat. And waited. The reporters on TV went on about that game.
Just as I was sipping the last of my dri
nk and wishing I had ordered the olives, I saw Leonard walk in. Immediately behind him was a girl. She had dark hair and was super cute. I was vaguely annoyed and acutely furious.
They both sat down and Leonard introduced her as Gina, a childhood friend from somewhere in Southern California. I couldn’t help but notice the payphone inside the minicloset near the hallway to the restrooms. I would be needing a cab shortly.
Another martini later, Gina and Leonard were getting along famously. I didn’t see how I could compete; she was cute, smart, and full of energy. As I sat there sipping my drink and gathering my escape plan, a second girl approached. She was a stunning blonde. Gina stood up, gave her a loving kiss and a quick squeeze, and introduced her as Veronica, her life partner.
I suddenly needed to freshen up. I let the ladies know I was thrilled to meet them both, and darted off to the bathroom.
I was on fire. The game was afoot. At this point, I was ready to watch this baseball game if only to get the prize at the end. Leonard was mine tonight, though I didn’t know when. I tightened up my mascara and lipstick, and headed back out to the table.
A strong hand was on my arm. I gasped as it pulled me with purpose into the minicloset payphone. It was Leonard. I smelled his essence before I could see his face. He lifted my thigh and I rested my foot on the wall behind him. He closed the door.
Leonard wasn’t shy. He knew exactly what I wanted. He knelt down and fed on my womanhood greedily.
Ah, but he didn’t let me finish without him. He stood, with wild lust in his eyes. He Unbuttoned his trousers and released his passion. I wrapped my hand around his prize.
I was breathless. I feared Leonard for his girth. I was terrified. He looked at me apologetically. I grabbed his left buttock in approval, and he thrusted.
At first I had to hold my hand against his tight furry stomach. He was too much for me. i had to hold him back, until he made the move.
The Diamond Club: A Novel Page 5