by Cassie Cole
“I’ve never been with a cop before,” I admitted. “So it’s a night of firsts for both of us.”
He touched my shoulder. “I didn’t know you had ink too.”
I twisted my arm around. “I’ve always loved butterflies. So carefree. Which is totally different than my own life. I bet that sounds silly.”
“I think butterflies are cool.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m just saying that ‘cause it’s true.” His finger ran down my arm, tracing the tattoos as he went. Finally he reached the flock of small birds on my wrist. “You don’t usually see this sort of thing on a politician.”
I laughed. “Tell me about it. I don’t pretend like they’re not there, but I usually wear long sleeves to cover them up. They severely limit my wardrobe in the summer.”
“You could own it,” he suggested. “Wear tank tops and let everyone see what you’ve got.”
“If only. You’d be surprised how many polls show that people won’t vote for someone with visible tattoos. A tattooed woman is right below Muslims and atheists on the list of things Ohioans are irrationally afraid of.”
“Ever think of getting rid of them? Like, with lasers?”
“No,” I answered immediately. “My campaign manager has suggested it, but I won’t do it. They’re part of me. Getting rid of them would be like getting rid of my fingers.”
He nodded like he understood, and held out his own left arm. One tattoo was an inverse image of a heart: a splash of black ink on the outside with a perfect heart shape in the middle of untouched skin. Ornate designs like the back of a playing card ran up his hand, and were met by a hawk with its wings tucked into a dive. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips.
“We can’t tell anyone about this,” I whispered.
I didn’t regret what had happened, but now I was beginning to worry about getting caught. What if one of his fellow officers came to relieve him, and found him inside rather than on his bike? What if someone else was watching my house and saw him come and go? What if Anthony, like most cocky men, wanted to brag about his conquests?
Anthony only barked a laugh.
“Of course we can’t tell anyone,” he agreed. “I’d get kicked off the force.” He paused. “It’d probably be worse for you, right?”
I nodded. “This town loves a good sex scandal.”
“Which is bullshit,” Anthony said, fire suddenly in his voice. “You’re not married. Who gives a shit if you have sex with someone?”
“I know!”
“If you were a bachelor,” he said, “instead of a bachelorette, people would be cheering you on for getting some action. Instead, you’re vilified. Fucking prudes.”
“Preaching to the choir.” I upended the bottle, then sighed. “You probably need to get back outside. Right?”
He shrugged. “There is that threat against your life.”
“Those are always false alarms. We get hundreds of potential threats a day.”
“Still, though…”
“It wasn’t even against me,” I added. “Apparently it was a vague threat against an unspecified female senator. That could be me, or one of the other 36 women in the senate.”
Anthony hopped off the counter. “I like those odds.”
I yelped as he threw me over his shoulder like a sack of senatorial potatoes. He was completely nude, giving me a perfect view of his chiseled ass. I gave it a hard smack as he carried me out of the kitchen, through the living room, and then up the stairs to my bedroom.
We made out on my bed for a while. Exploring each other’s body with our hands. We weren’t in a hurry. Eventually his hand found my wet pussy, and he was more tender than before as he rubbed me up and down. I moaned and stroked him in return.
Feeling adventurous, I rolled him over. His face was so pretty I couldn’t bear it, so I straddled his head and lowered myself onto his face. His tongue penetrated deep inside of me while I rocked back and forth, his nose pressing into my clit. I could see the smile in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around my thighs and pulled me down into him. His tongue was a tornado on my insides, seemingly touching every nerve as I bucked and moaned and came all over his face.
I was still coming down when he threw me onto my back and fell between my legs. I was so wet from his mouth that his stiff rod slid right in. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close while making love with his entire body, staring deep into my eyes while enjoying every moment.
It could have lasted hours, or minutes. I couldn’t tell. Everything in the world disappeared until it was just Anthony’s muscular body pressed so tightly against mine I thought we’d fuse together, and when he came I kissed him so I could steal the breath from his lungs.
*
I lay in bed, staring at Anthony’s sleeping body. I knew I should have regretted it, but I didn’t. Not even a little bit.
There’s a gorgeous man in my bed.
How long had it been? My last serious boyfriend was three years ago, when I was first campaigning for my senate seat. He couldn’t handle the hectic schedule of the campaign, and I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t dated anyone since then. It was tough to meet men when you were a public figure. And for all the fun I had with expensive male escorts in hotel rooms, I never actually slept with any of them.
Try as I might to enjoy the sight and feel and smell of Anthony, the risk crept up in the back of my head. There were hundreds of ways this could break bad. One stray photographer seeing him leave my apartment and all my political aspirations were toast. He seemed genuine about not telling anyone, but it was difficult to keep something like this totally secret. A few beers with the guys and it could slip out. Sure, he might leave the details vague. He’d tell them he slept with a congresswoman. But his buddies would start guessing names. Or maybe one of them would look at his past schedule and figure it out. Before long, the story would be sold to a tabloid and I’d have all the wrong kinds of publicity.
I curled up against his body. His leg was warm against mine, and the ink from his dark tattoos shone from the moonlight streaming through the window. It was easy to ignore the dangers when someone felt this good. This was turning out to be a fantastic birthday after all.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep, totally unaware that the false alarm security threat wasn’t a false alarm at all.
9
Elizabeth
I woke when I usually did, five minutes before my alarm. Anthony was spooned against my back, the soft pressure of his semi-erection warm against my ass.
It was tempting to stay in bed. To have a little more fun. But I knew if I didn’t go for my morning run I’d be cranky later. Besides, I had to burn off those red wine and lasagna calories.
I burned off plenty of calories last night.
I giggled and slipped out of bed, taking care not to wake Anthony. It wouldn’t hurt to let him sleep until I got back. Then I would kick him out.
The freezing air smacked me in the face the moment I stepped outside. It had snowed during the night, a light dusting which immediately melted underneath my running shoes with each step. Certainly not enough snow to stop me from my workout.
I started my Garmin watch and took off down the dark street of my neighborhood.
I did my best thinking while jogging. There was something about the blood flow that really helped my mind wake up and immediately start churning. It helped me plan my day, preparing for long senate sessions and subcommittee interviews.
This morning, it helped me analyze what had happened last night.
Female politicians weren’t allowed to have one-night stands. Men could do it as much as they wanted and they’d be compared to Bruce Wayne, but it made women look like sluts. Reckless, even. Anthony was right that it was bullshit, but that didn’t make it any less true.
Anthony was wonderful. Exactly the kind of thing I needed before my entire life got turned upside-down with exploratory committees and campaign events and polling data. But al
though Anthony was the perfect kind of guy for a delicious fling, he was the poster child for what brought politicians down. He was a member of the United States Capitol Police. Not directly under my command, but vaguely subordinate. My political enemies could suggest I forced him to sleep with me. Especially considering I’d made specific threats about filing a report against him. Three other senators had been there on the Hill when it happened. If subpoenaed, they would testify that I had taken a picture of his badge and then threatened him.
Anthony would obviously say it was perfectly consensual without any overt or contextual threat, but it would all get dragged out into the public eye. The newspapers and network news stations would have a field day. Anthony’s sexy, tattooed photo would be all over town with my name next to it.
Even though I couldn’t stop picturing his nude body asleep in my bed right now, things were looking grim.
I pumped my arms and picked up speed as I rounded a corner. My blood was really flowing now.
Alright, so it had happened. Anthony and I fucked the shit out of each other last night. Now what?
Obviously I would need to sit him down and have a chat. A real talk, not just the 20 seconds of discussion we’d had before he threw me over his shoulder and carried me upstairs for round two. I needed to swear him to secrecy. Reiterate that both of our jobs were in jeopardy if word of this came out. Were non-disclosure agreements binding in this sort of situation? I didn’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask a lawyer. At the very least I could have Anthony sign a document verifying that the threats I made to his job were unrelated to our night together. It made me cringe to think of drafting up such a document and asking him to sign it, but sometimes a woman had to cover her ass.
Regardless of what I chose to do, one thing was certain: I wasn’t going to tell Megan. After all the work she’d been doing on my potential campaign, she’d lose her mind to learn that I’d risked it all so carelessly.
Yet as important as secrecy obviously was, I felt ridiculously giddy by what had unfolded last night. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that there was presently a man in my bed, a man whose eyes I’d stared deeply into while we made love, and who I was tempted to go home and fuck one more time before I showered and went to the Hill.
I turned another corner, heading into the home stretch toward my apartment.
Sitting Anthony down this morning was the first step. Get some coffee in him and impress upon him the importance of secrecy. It would be an awkward conversation, but I thought he would understand.
A man stepped out of the alley ahead of me.
I didn’t understand what he was doing at first. He was in the darkness between two street lights, with a hoodie covering his head and his hands in his pockets. He lingered on the sidewalk like he was lost, looking off to the right at nothing in particular. He was dressed too nice to be a bum, but I still considered crossing the street just to be safe.
Everything happened very quickly.
He turned toward me. His hand came out of his pocket gripping something heavy. He extended the object toward me. There was a bright flash, and a thunderclap so loud it hurt my ears from 50 feet away.
A gun.
I threw myself sideways into the street and scrambled on my hands and knees through the thin snow to take cover behind a parked car. Two more gunshots rang out, though it sounded—and felt—like my ears were full of cotton. The sound echoed off the surrounding buildings.
I’m being attacked.
I reached for my belt instinctively, then cursed. I’d forgotten to bring my taser and congressional alarm with me. I’d been too busy thinking about the hot man in my bed.
I’m totally, completely, vulnerable.
I could hear the man’s shoes squeaking through the snow as he drew closer. “Hey,” he called in a raspy voice. “Come out so we can make this quick.”
Huddled there on the ground in my running clothes, fear paralyzed me.
I forced myself to peek up above the car. I could see him through the car windows. He was coming closer, but reluctantly. Maybe he thought I might have a gun too.
“Come any closer and I’ll shoot!” I yelled in a shaky voice.
His laugh was bitter. “You don’t got nothin’.”
Sheer terror gripped my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. I was a sitting duck if I made a run for it. But the closer he came, the less likely he was to miss.
I made a decision: I needed to run. I had to do it now, before he got any closer. I knew this fact intellectually but my body wouldn’t cooperate.
And then, with horrifying clarity, I realized: I’m going to die.
“All I want…” the man said as he came around the side of the car.
A deep voice called out: “Capitol Police! Put your hands where I can see them!”
Gunshots thundered farther up the street. My attacker cursed, then began running. Two more gunshots split the air, followed by a cry of pain.
Unable to do anything else, I trembled against the car.
Anthony appeared moments later. He was wearing only his boxers and a tank top over his tan, tattooed skin. Not caring about his bare feet or knees, he immediately dropped down next to me.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around me. “I’m here, Elizabeth. You’re safe now.”
He whispered soothing words into my ear while carrying me back inside.
10
Elizabeth
I sat at my kitchen table, cradling a mug of coffee in both hands. I still wore my running clothes. Even though we were inside my warm apartment, I was starting to get cold. The shock and adrenaline wearing off, probably.
“Ma’am?” said one of the officers seated across from me. He looked like he was 80, though his eyes were hardened with experience. The other officer was closer to my age, and tapped her pen against her notepad while waiting for my answer.
I shook my head. “Sorry. I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a hoodie.”
“What about his hair?” the older officer asked. “Long, short, dark, light?”
“I don’t know.”
“Anything you can tell us will be immensely valuable.”
“I don’t know.”
“Ma’am…”
“She said she doesn’t know,” Anthony snapped. He was leaning against the wall a respectable distance away. Fully clothed in his uniform and jacket. “Ease off her.”
The older officer, who outranked Anthony, twisted in his chair and stared him down. Anthony crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed worried about the attack. Worried about me.
“What happened next?” the younger officer asked. “After he stepped out from the alley?”
I told them everything that happened. There wasn’t much to tell. The younger officer took far more notes than my explanation warranted.
“There aren’t many muggings in this neighborhood,” the older officer said, “but it’s not unheard of.”
“Mugging,” I repeated.
“Huh?”
“Well,” I said, “for a mugger he didn’t seem interested in my belongings. He just appeared and started firing.”
“Tweakers,” the younger officer said. “Guys so high they can’t think logically. That’s all.”
“Tweakers,” I repeated.
“Can you go over what he said to you again? Word for word?”
I spent a few moments describing the assailant’s raspy voice.
“How much time elapsed before Officer duBois returned fire on the suspect?”
I shrugged. “30 seconds? Maybe more. I can’t remember. I was busy being shot at.”
The officer twisted in his seat again. “Officer duBois? You wanna join us?”
“I’m fine right here.”
I couldn’t see the older officer’s face, but I could hear the ice in his words. “If you were stationed outside her house on your bike, why did it take you so long to respond?”
Oh c
rap. That’s why Anthony was worried: because he was sleeping in my bed when the attack happened. He was supposed to be outside my apartment.
“Maybe it was only a few seconds,” I quickly added. The younger officer looked sharply at me. “It was tough to tell in the heat of the moment. Everything happened so fast, you know?”
Anthony took a slow, deep breath. “I responded as quickly as I could,” he said through gritted teeth. “Gunshots rang out. I drew my sidearm and approached on foot. As soon as the suspect was in sight I commanded him to put his hands in the air. He turned toward me, which is when I saw he had a weapon in his hand. Then I opened fire.”
The younger officer cleared her throat. “Did you see Senator O’Hare leave her apartment?”
Anthony hesitated. “I saw someone leave her apartment. From my bike I couldn’t tell if it was the senator or not.”
“And you didn’t offer to escort her?” she asked. “You remained at your post even though the target of the threat had left the building?”
“My orders were to watch the apartment,” Anthony said. I could tell he was done with all this. “So I watched the apartment. I shot the guy in the leg, by the way. He shouldn’t be hard to find; just follow the fucking blood. Then he will tell you how quickly I was on his ass.”
“There’s no need for your tone,” the older officer said.
“Fuck my tone. You two are more concerned about how long it took me to respond than the fact that someone just tried to kill Elizabeth.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Both officers stared at Anthony.
“Senator O’Hare,” he corrected after too long of a pause. “Someone tried to kill Senator O’Hare, and you two are focusing on the wrong thing. Why aren’t you out there collecting the asshole’s blood?”
“We have a forensics team outside collecting evidence,” the officer calmly said.
Anthony blinked. “Good.”
