by Maya James
I saw it happening and so did Lena as we watch the surveillance cameras from the safety of Justin's office. All the bugs we put in when we were selecting him were going to stay now, maybe forever. We wanted Lewis a little scared, especially for this meeting. Fear is good for control, so it is a welcome sight. It has to be limited, though, so that Lewis is still concentrating more on what is being said and less on not throwing up and shitting his pants.
Justin looks uninterested and unimportant, hanging in the background exactly where he wants to be. His insignificance masks the fact that he is in complete control of this meeting. Everything about to be said, and who will say it, has been scripted by him. Even some of them arriving late is according to his plan.
It freaks me out, more than a little bit, to witness his accuracy, to know that he can play anyone like a puppet—including maybe even me and I would never know it.
Justin wanted the first person to speak to be someone Lewis knows, someone he trusts. That fell to Austin Hill, the Administrative Press Aid for the last two presidents and friend of Lewis' since college.
"Scott, obviously we're here for something important; something that concerns you directly even though you have no idea what it is, but I want you to do your best to relax and listen to everything we say. You've known me for years. You know I don't want anything but good things for you, so trust me when I tell you—do not get upset, do not get defensive. Just listen and pay attention. If you listen to the positive in this, you'll see that everyone here is going to help you, that we already have helped you, and that was just the beginning."
Austin held his eye contact the entire time, just as he was told to. He's a good looking guy; nice body, pretty blue eyes, cleft chin, more rugged than you would expect in a political jockey. He had sat himself right in front of Lewis, leaning in toward him the way Justin wanted.
"What did you help me with?" Lewis asks even though his tone suggests that he suspects what Austin is referring to.
"Scott, you know no one gets to where you are without certain backing. It's just not possible to go up against fortified politicians, without being fortified yourself," Austin said.
"You got me the Senator position, is that what you're telling me?" Everyone can hear the defensiveness and subtle posturing in his voice.
"Not us entirely. You earned it, we're not taking that away from you. We would have been ineffective and powerless if you weren't worthy," Austin replied. That was honest and true.
The hint of insult Lewis displayed quickly settled, trying to check his emotions as his friend had asked him to do. "But you helped?"
"We cleared the path," Austin said. "We made you the only reliable, believable candidate, so the choice was easy. We wanted you in as much as you wanted to be in."
He'll ask what they want, according to Justin's script. Not why. He will know the "why" is because they want him to do things for them, so he'll want to know what. And it shouldn't be Austin to answer. They need to keep Austin pure to Lewis.
"What is it you want me to do?"
Right on fucking cue!
Lena sees me smile.
John Roberts, an older, leathery, "oil" man sits right behind Austin. Lewis doesn't know him, but knows exactly who he is. "It's nothing so particular, Mr. Lewis. We want you in and we'll keep you in. That favor, and the others we've done for you, it's only right you be willing to do the same for us."
"So you want me in your pocket?"
"Yes," John says. "No reason to lie, that's exactly what we want, but you will have us in your pocket as well. We fix things for you, you fix things for us. It's fair."
Lewis is still ringing his hands, but they have his attention.
"What do I need fixed," Lewis started, "now that I'm already Senator?"
Now it was time for someone Lewis doesn't know at all, because what had to be said next is going to unnerve him. It needs to be someone Lewis won’t know how to read, someone he might be a little afraid of.
"We know about the gambling."
That was Franco Cecere, a gigantic Italian man whose voice rolls like deep thunder over a calm lake. His hands look like massive sausages clad in diamond rings. Not only does Lewis not know who he is at all, but Franco is so imposing looking that Lewis is too scared to reply.
"We know where you've been getting the money for your habit," he adds.
Lewis is silent.
"We've taken care of that, though, every bit of it. Everything missing from your political funds, your personal accounts, it's all back again—erased," Cattie Atwood, a popular PR specialist, reassures him. He knows her; not well, but they've spoken on several occasions, sat together at several functions with their spouses.
Mixing with Lewis' frustration, there's hope. It blows into his eyes like smoke. It's an answer to a problem he had no way to solve himself, one that was going to take away everything he'd worked for. "It c-can't be," he stutters.
I know what he’s thinking, that it was too much money, too big a debt years in the making to be gone so quickly.
"It is," she promises. "It's all gone. And if you can work with us, it will stay that way."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
This whole time, you can't even tell if Justin is listening. I know he is, I know every fucking detail is being analyzed and stored, but you cannot see it happening.
"It means we could take it back out as easily as we put it in, if you're not interested. We helped you get elected, we'll let you keep that, but the financing—that would be gone. But if you are interested, no one, not your wife and kids, not your political team, no one will ever know or be affected by it. What's more, you can continue playing, within limits of course, and we'll cover it," Cattie says.
"And senator doesn't have to be the end for you," Austin interjected. "Think about that, Scott, think hard about that. We got you to senator without breaking a sweat. Imagine what we can all do together. How high do you want to go?"
The room fell silent.
Lewis has finally stopped ringing his hands. He could see the light at the end of a very long tunnel. He leans back in his chair, blowing out a deep breath and putting his hands on the back of his head.
It's a submissive gesture.
"He's in!" Lena says happily.
Justin, the crazy son-of-a-bitch, looks at the camera and winks at us, knowing we are watching. No one there, not even the group, knows we have eyes inside. It's not something they need to know. They need the results, not how we get them.
"I don't see how I can refuse," Lewis says. "But I don't see why I would want to, either, so I'm in."
Austin smiled and patted Lewis on the knee, proud of his choice—just like Justin told him to be. It was going to be much easier, for everyone, if Lewis was under the impression he'd gotten to select his involvement.
"So what do we do now? How does this work?" Lewis asks.
"First—we drink. A little something to seal the deal," Austin says, his voice excited.
"Hell yes, I could use a drink!" Lewis jumps up and walks to the sideboard he uses as a minibar, more than eager to counteract the stress of the meeting with a double of fucking anything. The sideboard is littered with crystal bottles and a silver shaker set, handsome glasses covering a silver tray. He pours everyone their choice of scotch, whisky, or brandy, and they all notice his glass is about three times deeper than any of theirs. He also finishes his twice as fast.
"You have a new account," Cattie begins. She hands him a bank card, while she takes a sip of her scotch. "No one knows about this account, keep the card safe. You won't get any statements and you don't have online access. We'll text you the balance info when there's changes."
"So this is my allowance?" he asks, a hint of discomfort obvious in his voice.
"Think of it as half of your new salary and you'll appreciate it better that way," Franco says sternly. He leans forward his chair, his huge weight balanced on its edge.
Lewis nods, still afraid of Franco.
&nbs
p; Cattie continued, "Two-hundred thousand will be deposited on the first of each month into that account, regardless of any balance. Play with it, buy toilet paper with it, spend it however you want."
Lewis sat down, a bright smile in his eyes. It's more than he's been throwing down on his own, much more. Not only did we take care of his current debt, but we've given him a way to fill his need and stay out of debt while doing it. It's a sweeter deal than he imagined.
"You need to mind the limit, Scott" Austin said compassionately.
"If you hit the limit before the next deposit—you're done for the month," Franco added.
I got nervous myself when he said that, and I'm not even there.
"Make sure you understand that," Franco continues. "We are watching every other account you have and everything you might open in the future. You need to have some control, because this isn't a game. If money starts disappearing from any other place, we've got a problem—you've got a problem!"
"It's the only way we can keep you safe, Scott, and ourselves. You pull money from someplace else again, like your campaign funds, and you get caught...we can't risk that. You must see that. You have to know that, and what people in our position would be willing to do to protect themselves at that point," Austin says. Just as Justin had him practice over and over, his eyes are wide and honest, almost scared for him.
"You guys know this is more than I need. I'm sure that you considered that when you were planning it."
Austin and Cattie both nod.
"There won't be a problem," Lewis promises.
"Problem with that is you're bound to get used to the freedom of the higher limit real quick, and that's when you'll trap yourself. Don't let that happen!" Franco's voice managed to grow even more menacing. "My advice, don't get close to the limit when you play. Use the balance on something else; the kids, your wife, something you can feel safe about."
Lewis nodded. "You said to think of it as half my salary, what did you mean by that?"
"I'm glad you asked," Cattie said, taking over. "There's an entire team behind you now, more than those in this room. Campaigning for you going forward is just a PR event. Financing is taken care of. Crisis management, marketing, press, research, security—it's all handled."
"Your political career just got the biggest boost you could have ever hoped for," Austin agreed, holding out his hand to Lewis, who smiled and shook it, laughing nervously.
"Just tell me how it works," Lewis says. "Am I working directly with all of you?"
"Not really," Austin replies. "I'll be your POC for nearly everything. You could hear from one of the others from time to time, but most everything will go between us. I'll tell you who to meet, what to say, how to vote—whatever needs to be done. And you contact me for anything you need. We'll have strategy meetings once a month, which will be the people here now, give or take. And get used to that quiet one back there." He pointed at Justin.
Justin doesn't make any effort to come forward. He wants Lewis to expect him, but not know him. He simply nods his head slowly as Lewis does the same nervously.
"Mr. Collins is our security and intelligence department. If we need to know something, he'll get the answer. If we need something done, something or someone taken care of, Mr. Collins is in charge."
"So he's my security?"
Austin winces a bit. "Not really. He's our security. He watches you as much as he watches out for you. I just want to be honest. You deserve to know. He works for the group, not you. He'll do things you need done, but don't misunderstand where his loyalty is. If you turn against this group, you turn against him, and that—that would be the worst mistake of all."
JUSTIN HAD TEXTED ME that he was on his way up, so I went to wait in his office. Sylvester paces back and forth while we wait together. We had important information to give him, but it could wait a few minutes.
I miss him so much. It hasn't been long, a single night so he could be in DC early. Then a flight back on the Hawker this afternoon. But it was long enough. I heard the same need for release in his voice on the phone earlier.
The door clicks and he comes in, finding me leaning back in his chair, my legs spread to expose a hint of red fabric under my Donna Karan voile skirt. His smile still stops my heart and makes me gush. When he closes the door, he locks it and heads for me.
"You guys watched the entire meeting?" he asks as he approaches.
"We did," I reply easily, turning the chair so that I will be facing him when he comes around his desk. "It went perfectly."
"Everyone did their part. That always helps."
I run a slow hand between my legs, teasing him. I pull my legs wider, lifting my full skirt higher toward my waist. "You should do your part now," I tell him.
"I'm going to do my part. My part is to love you with all I have, and I do. I love you more than life itself. My part is to make you happy, and I'm going to make you happy right now. I'm going to use my fingers and my tongue, and I promise you, when I'm done there's going to be nothing left of you but happy."
Justin rounds his desk with his eyes growing wild and grabs my hand out of the way. His strong hands grab my panties at the sides and literally rip them off me. I slide back in his chair to get ready for him.
In one swipe, he slides his fingers down through the river of wetness flowing out of my pussy. Then he dips two of them straight into me and my breath is stolen, seized. He strokes my G-spot, sending warm throbs up into my stomach.
Watching him today, his accuracy, was more of a turn on than I can put into words and I need release. My clit is solid and aching, my nipples swollen to irritation.
Justin's right cheek brushes against my left thigh and I close my eyes to await the bliss about to be given. Slowly, his face inches inward, his lips pressing and sucking my flesh as he moves. I feel his hot tongue nearly in the crevice between my leg and vulva.
My clit is screaming now. My G-spot is getting all the attention and I want more.
His mouth sinks into me at last, his hot lips and tongue sucking in all of my wetness. He growls like a hungry wolf ravenous at its meal. The vibrations of his growl add to the pleasure, making everything tingle and hum, making me feel the onset of an orgasm.
With my eyes open again, the sight of him on his knees with his face shoved into my sex is exhilarating. His free hand kneads my fleshy thighs, pulling me into his mouth. I feel the pressure of his mouth suck my clit from its hood, and the extremely sensitive tip is tortured by his tongue swirling tight circles and letting its hardness pop free to send contractions down the muscles of my legs.
"Oh, Christ!" I breathe. "You do that so fucking good. Lick me hard! I need to cum!"
Suddenly, he is out of me, his tongue and his fingers. He was pushing away everything on his desk, making a clear opening in the center.
"Stand up!" he demands.
I do just as he asked and when I do, he grabs my skirt by its bottom and bends me over the desk, throwing my skirt completely over my head, exposing me from my waist to my shoes.
Whack!
His hand smacked into my round ass and sent chills of pleasure down the back of my legs, the tingle seeping between them. I can feel the shape of his hand with every finger on my tightening skin.
Whack!
The other cheek was now evened out. My warrior parts are throbbing, wanting more.
I hear his zipper and my eagerness overflows.
"Fuck me, Justin! Fuck me hard!"
He smacks my ass again, harder this time.
"When you ask nicely, then I'll fuck you," he growls. "Not a moment before."
His fingertips run up from behind my knee to my ass, then dive through my softness into my pussy. He never misses my G-spot and this angle, with my legs hanging over the side, only makes it easier.
"Please fuck me, I need you." I feel his hot cock against my hip like a tease.
Whack!
The combination of the intense sting and his pumping fingers draws my orgasm closer.
>
"You don't sound sincere," he taunts. "Make me believe you!"
His magic fingers ram in and out, stabbing my pleasure zone with a purposeful intensity that drives me insane. Juices are rushing out of me in rivers, making wet sounds between his busy knuckles and the sensitive skin between my openings. I throw my arms wide across his desk, looking for something to hold on to.
Whack!
It's too much! I'm cumming!
"Put it in me, please! I'm cumming and I want you in me!"
Justin whips his fingers out of me and the withdrawal of my climax causes physical pain; a deflating ache that rocks me silent, clenching madly at the surface of his desk.
Without a word, he pushes me up onto the huge desk, until my knees are no longer hanging off. I hear him taking his shoes and pants off, then climbing up on his desk with me. Standing over me, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me up toward his hardness, plunging it into me. I can't see a damn thing from under my skirt, but I don't need to. I just need to feel the swollen tip of his cock pounding my pussy as his unyielding hands raise and lower me along his shaft.
Finally, he puts me down and flips me over. I see him now, still in his shirt and tie, looking hot as hell from the meeting. I wrap my legs around him and grab his tie, pulling him in. He aims his hardness and slides in to his hilt, moaning at the wonderful release of it.
My thighs are quivering around him. He wants to make this last I can tell; I can see it in his eyes, but we both know that can't happen—not here. Any moment, Lena or John will come looking for us, wanting to fill him in on our news.
"Finish me, I'm begging you," I plead.
"Now that I believe," he breathes.
He lifts my ass off the desk higher onto his lap so that his cock is ramming upward in me, into my G-spot. Now he's able to use one of his hands to thumb my clit, and my climax returns.
I hold on to his tie for dear life. The pulsing inside begins to grow, becoming a rhythmic whomp that controls the humping and thrusting of my hips. It's all I can do to keep from shouting. The office holds its sound well, but I don't trust it to scream the way I need to. His thumb slips up and down my stiff trigger, dipping into my folds briefly before moving back up, stretching it out of its hood.
