The Stolen Girl

by Samantha Westlake

  “If you have seen this young woman, or have any information that might be pertinent to the investigation, please don’t hesitate to call the number at the bottom of the screen,” the news anchor went on. “And now, we have a personal statement issued by the girl’s father, Senator Leonard Sterling, less than an hour ago.”

  The camera shifted, and I felt my stomach lurch. My father! I didn’t always communicate my best with him, but I loved him dearly, and I couldn’t imagine what he must be going through, not even knowing if I was alive or dead. I knew that he had been under extra pressure in the last couple months with the approaching internal primaries to select the next presidential race candidates; I had heard my father’s name tossed around several times, and suspected that he was a strong choice. He had been handling the excess stress surprisingly well, but this must have thrown a monkey wrench into what little calm he still had.

  The screen now showed a podium, set up with green trees in the background. I gasped aloud as I recognized the setting - this was just outside my house! In a murmur of reporters and clicking of cameras, my father stepped onto the screen. He looked haggard, the lines evident on his age and his eyes looking red and swollen even beneath a layer of concealer. He had definitely been crying. I felt my heart lurch.

  Standing just behind my father, in the spot normally reserved for his chief of staff, stood a woman that I didn’t recognize. Her hair was cut severely short, not quite touching her shoulders, and when her eyes met the camera, they were a cold and piercing blue. She seemed to spend most of her time watching my father, however, and her whole face softened when she looked at him. I didn’t recognize the woman, but when my father shifted to the side for a moment, I saw some sort of badge attached to the pocket of her blazer. She must be with the authorities, I decided. And when my father sucked in a deep breath, I saw her hand rise for a moment, looking almost as though she wanted to reach out and pat my father in a gesture of comfort.

  My father paused for a moment at the podium, looking out into the cameras with that deep, penetrating gaze of his. “When I returned home this afternoon, my daughter was missing, and the police have agreed that signs suggest that foul play may be involved,” he said, drawing in a deep breath. “If anyone out there has any information, please, please contact me. I am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure my daughter’s safe return.”

  After this sentence my father paused, clearly needing a moment to pull himself back together. He looked exhausted. When he raised his gaze back up to the cameras once more, I could see the hint of tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. I felt similar tears starting to well up in my own. “Beth, if you’re out there, please let us know,” he said, his voice sounding choked up and thick. “We are all praying for you. Please be safe.”

  The view of my father mercifully faded away after this statement, before the flurry of shouting reporters that I knew would have followed such a statement. Before the camera cut away, I saw the blonde woman standing behind my father step forward, that icy mask snapping back onto her expression as she gazed out at the crowd. She was definitely someone from law enforcement, I decided.

  The news anchor’s head reappeared, my picture digitally superimposed next to her. “Once again, the number for information is at the bottom of the screen,” she said. “The senator, one of the early favorites for the upcoming presidential election, has announced that there is a reward for any information leading to the safe recovery of his daughter.”

  I blinked several times, lifting up a handful of the bed’s cover sheet to wipe away the tears wetly glistening on my face. I felt so horrible for my father! And as the blanket came away damp, I steeled myself. Time to find a way out of here. Time to make my escape.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  The reporters stuck around for a while at Senator Leonard Sterling’s home, shouting over each other as they called out questions, but Carol calmly and clearly answered each question in turn. She had instructed Sterling to remain quiet and not respond after he had given his statement, and he did so, standing in back with his gaze downcast while she fielded question after question.

  Some of the reporters quickly recognized that they wouldn’t be learning anything else new or interesting, and began packing up their equipment shortly after Carol took the stage. But there were always a handful, either newbies still hoping to make their first big break or those representing smaller publications with nothing to lose in terms of credibility, who stuck around and kept on calling out aggressive or barely related questions.

  But they couldn’t gain any purchase, couldn’t find any holes in the rhetoric coming from the woman on the stage. As he listened, Sterling had to admit that he felt a faint but growing sense of admiration. This woman had clearly handled situations like this before, and knew how to handle a crowd.

  Sterling’s gaze soon settled onto Carol’s feet, a neutral area for his eyes to rest. She was dressed in a pair of black low-heeled shoes, and her slacks were short enough for Sterling to catch a glimpse of ankle as she shifted back and forth. And, weirdly enough, he noticed how her ankles were quite shapely, pale but unblemished skin curving nicely around the start of her legs. For a moment, his eyes nearly tracked upward towards her ass, but he managed to get ahold of himself before that. It would look terrible if he was seen checking out another woman while at a press conference about his missing daughter!

  Carol took a few more questions, but it was clear that her patience was growing thin. Eventually, she raised her hand, cutting off an especially verbose young reporter mid-sentence, and announced that the conference was over.

  As the reporters still present slumped their shoulders and began to pack up, Carol had gestured to Sterling that they could head back inside, back into the house. She fell in behind him as he walked, but after they had entered through the back door into the kitchen, she gave him a comforting pat on the arm. “You did a great job,” she said, her tone quiet and soothing.

  Sterling nodded, turning to face her after the door was shut. “Thank you,” he said with sincerity. He pulled open his fridge, retrieving a beer, and then glanced over at the agent. “Would you like a drink?”

  He hadn’t meant the offer as anything but friendly (at least, that’s what he said to himself), but the woman blinked in surprise. She began to shake her head, but then paused. “You know what, I think I would,” she said instead.

  Sterling pulled out a beer and passed it over to her. He noted with a hint of appreciation as she easily twisted off the top and took a sip. “Ah, that’s not bad,” she commented with feeling, gazing down at the bottle.

  The senator opened up his own beer, and then strolled into the living room, settling into his normal position on the couch. Carol followed him, stepping over towards the mantle and peering at the pictures set along the shelf.

  “Was this your wife?” she asked in a kind tone, after gazing at a few of the photographs.

  Sterling nodded. “Yes. She passed away when Elizabeth was nine,” he said. He climbed to his feet and walked over to stand next to Carol, looking wistfully at the pictures and doing his best to block out the flood of memories that they evoked.

  Standing this close to the FBI agent, he could catch a hint of her perfume as she moved, her gently flowing hair wafting the scent towards him. She smelled ever so faintly of lavender; the smell was surprisingly calming and feminine for Sterling’s impression of the woman.

  Reaching the last photograph, Carol turned, but she didn’t realize how close Sterling was standing behind her, and the two nearly collided. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, looking up at him, but she didn’t back away immediately. Her eyes met his, and he once again noticed the softness of her face. For just a moment, Sterling felt the inexplicable urge to lean in, to gaze into those blue eyes from just an inch away.

  The moment lasted just slightly too long, neither of them wanting to pull away. To his surprise, Sterling felt a growing attraction to this woman. He had no idea why - the two of
them had barely known each other for a day! And yet, inexplicable as it was, it couldn’t be denied.

  Carol blinked, and Sterling finally took a step back, taking his seat once again on the couch. “What about you, Agent Gates?” he asked. “What’s your story?”

  “Carol, please,” she replied, settling onto the couch cushions on the other side of the piece of furniture. “And I’m afraid that there isn’t too much excitement to my story. I grew up in Pennsylvania, not too far from here, and went straight from high school to college to the FBI. I’ve been working cases like this for my entire career; I’m used to them.”

  “You were the oldest child,” Sterling guessed, gazing across at her. From the way she carried herself, her quiet confidence, he drew his assumptions.

  He was rewarded with a nod. “Two younger brothers,” she said. “I was always the older sister who kept them in line, who they looked up to. What about you?”

  “The same,” Sterling responded. “I had a younger sister. We fought a lot when we were younger, but we’ve grown a little closer now that we aren’t forced to share the same bathroom every single morning.”

  The comment, meant as an off-the-cuff joke, drew an unexpected peal of laughter from the senator’s couch companion. Carol clapped her hand over her mouth a moment later, her eyes going wide, but Sterling laughed along with her. It was nice to laugh - for a moment, he wasn’t thinking about the tragedy at hand.

  Carol and Sterling made small talk for several more minutes, but beneath the external layer of chatter, they were both conscious of how they were drawing closer on the couch. Sterling couldn’t put his finger on what exactly about this woman drew him towards her so strongly. She was at least five years his junior, he guessed, but she had a quiet maturity about her, a well-constructed outer shell that still offered occasional, beguiling flashes of the warm soul beneath.

  Finally, as Sterling finished sharing one of his stories about a point in the Senate chambers when two quarreling politicians had nearly broken into fisticuffs, Carol’s hand, descending from covering her mouth to vainly try to hold back laughter, landed on his leg, just above the knee. Like a jolt of electricity, Sterling was acutely aware of its presence there. He didn’t move, fearing that he would dislodge it, and Carol left it there, her fingers lightly grazing against his thigh.

  A minute later, the woman shivered, and Sterling realized that it had grown chilly inside. He had left the windows open, appreciating the afternoon breezes, but the cool night air was lowering the inside temperature. He leaned back, pushing the panel closed on the window behind the couch, and then as he brought his hand back down, he wrapped it around the shivering woman next to him.

  Carol leaned into his arm as it wrapped around her, pressing against his chest. A moment later, she turned her head up towards him, and for a long second, they stopped talking, silently gazing into each other’s eyes.

  This was the moment, Sterling sensed. He shouldn’t. It was a bad idea. But all of his emotions were overwhelming his head, and finally, abruptly, he decided to embrace them. He leaned forward the last inch and softly kissed the woman in his arms.

  Carol’s lips were thick and yielding, softly pressing back against his and parting slightly. Sterling could taste a hint of beer on her breath, but also another taste that was undeniably her, light and feminine. They broke apart only to immediately kiss again, and the woman turned her body further, pressing up against the man.

  Sterling brought his other arm around to encircle her, pulling her up to partly rest on his thigh as they made out. He felt himself slipping back from their combined weight until his head met the arm rest, Carol on top of him. She was surprisingly light and delicate.

  Opening his eyes between kisses, the senator gazed down at the woman astride him. Now, splayed out on top of him, he could definitely see her curves highlighted despite the best intentions of her severe suit. Her ass, elevated slightly, showed a lovely round curve, and when he lowered his gaze a little more he could see her breasts, delicate and high-seated, dangling inside her button-up blouse. The sight provoked a rush of feelings, the type of which Sterling hadn’t felt in years...

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  The sun had set, and the room was growing dim, with only the lamps set on automatic timers providing light. But Sterling didn't dare get up, didn't dare let go of this woman on top of him, for fear that she would vanish, that this all would become one more trick his stressed mind was playing on him.

  The kissing grew more intense, and he could feel Carol’s hands running over him, sliding over his chest and curling around his neck. Sterling’s hands were busy too, pushing up on the woman’s blazer and pulling it back down her arms so that her shoulders were exposed. Carol briefly sat up and, breathing heavily, whipped off the offending garment and tossed it aside. Sterling’s fingers were immediately at the buttons of her blouse, and a moment later, her breasts were hidden only by the scant coverage of her bra.

  As he tore at her clothes, she returned the favor, and Sterling felt his pants loosen slightly as she popped his belt and the button hidden beneath. A minute later, she had the zipper down, and for the first time in years, another hand not his own was grabbing at his cock. He had a rock-hard erection, and a smile danced across the woman’s face as her fingers wrapped around its girth.

  Now both partially unclothed, they paused again, both of them panting for fresh air. “Oh, wow,” Carol breathed, sitting back but still not letting go of Sterling’s cock between her fingers. “This is not what I expected to be doing tonight…”

  “Are you saying we should stop?” Sterling replied. “Because if you want to, that’s okay.”

  Carol shook her head. Her blonde hair had been somewhat mussed by the recent activities, and was now standing up slightly from one side of her head. Rather than detract from her appearance, however, it only heightened her delicate features, sending a new rush of lust coursing through Sterling’s mind. He hadn’t been this horny in years - perhaps not since he was a teenager.

  “This isn’t how I expected, but it is how things were in my daydreams!” she replied, and her fingers rubbed up and down along Sterling’s length. “Can I make a confession to you?”

  “Of course,” Sterling replied, leaning back a little to gaze into her eyes.

  “I'm one of your biggest supporters,” Carol admitted. “I mean, we're the FBI – we aren't supposed to pick sides, especially in politics. But ever since I first saw a few of your campaign speeches, well, I was hooked. Your policies are smart, you're such a good speaker, and god, you’re attractive!”

  As he listened to these words, Sterling couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. It was so easy in politics to quickly grow bitter, jaded, disillusioned with the system. And it was so rare to meet someone who actually believed in him. And this woman, this sharp and whip-smart woman in his arms, thought that he was worthy of her greatest respect! It filled him with happiness.

  In response, Sterling lunged up, his hands swinging around to her back to pop the clasp on her bra. It had been a few years, but he still had the skills! The shaped fabric fell away, revealing Carol’s breasts, small and high-seated, with pale nipples. They looked glorious, and Sterling had to have them in his mouth.

  As he sucked on her nipples, Carol turned her attention towards her own pants, releasing the clasp and shoving them down to her knees, as far as they would go in her current position. Sterling slipped one hand down to slide along her now-exposed ass, curling around to touch the soft, thin tangle of hair between her thighs. On his fingers he felt dampness. He longed to taste her.

  After a few more seconds, Carol gave him that opportunity. She planted one hand on his forehead and pushed back, sending him crashing down to the couch. Before he could recover, she spun around on top of him, her ass now hovering in front of his face and her head down between his knees. And as Sterling regained his breath, he felt her warm and wet mouth wrap around the tip of his cock in a whole new rush of sensat
ion.

  For a moment, the senator simply laid there, awash in pleasure as this woman sucked on his instrument. But she gave her ass another little wiggle, indicating what she wanted him to do, and he leaned forward slightly so that his tongue could run along the length of her labia. She tasted fresh, slightly floral, and he wanted more.

  Sterling pushed his tongue in, parting her lips and tasting a whole new rush of wet warmth. Down towards his waist, the woman moaned around her mouthful of cock, but didn’t let it slip out of her mouth, instead pushing it in even deeper.

  Unfortunately, Sterling knew that he wouldn’t last long. Despite his rush of arousal, it had been far too long since he had last been touched like this, and he could already feel the rising sensation of tightness, signaling that he was about to blow. But now, all he wanted was that release, that orgasmic explosion. His hips thrust up slightly, pushing deeper as he fucked this woman’s face.

  Finally, while his tongue was buried deep in her pussy and his mouth was firmly on her parted lips, he felt himself pass the point of no return. This was it! He grunted, but he couldn’t speak, paralyzed by pleasure as he felt white-hot liquid course up through the length of his cock and explode out the head.

  Even though he couldn’t get out a warning in time, Carol didn’t hesitate, and Sterling could feel her body shake as she swallowed his seed. He seemed to be pumping out more and more for what felt like hours, rope after rope flying out of his cock. Yes, it had been far too long! But Carol didn’t miss a beat, and finally Sterling sagged back against the couch, depleted and exhausted.