by Cassie Cole
“Kentucky.”
I stared at him, unsatisfied with a one-word answer. I’d learned that sometimes a pointed stare could get more information out of a person than a demanding tone.
“Little town called Tollesboro,” he grudgingly added. “My father was a hard rock miner.”
I grinned. “No kidding! My dad mined coal outside New Alexandria.”
Luca’s face perked up. “Shitty way to make a living, but it put food on the table for me and my sisters.”
“At least you got out,” I mentioned. “Most of the boys in my town went straight into the mines as soon as they were old enough to swing a pick.”
“Yep,” he said.
“That’s actually part of the reason I got into politics,” I said. “When I was a teenager, I saw a woman speak at our community center. She was trying to get funding for broader adult educational programs in our town. Classes at the library to teach people how to use computers. Help enrolling people in classes at the community college two towns over. Giving people a chance to do more than just toil away at the bottom of a mineshaft.”
Luca grunted. “Wish that woman had come to our town.”
“Well,” I said, “she failed. The funding wasn’t approved. But, her failure encouraged me to get into politics to help guide money toward programs like that. It was tough with local money when I was on the city council, but once I got into the state senate I had more success. And then by the time I got to Washington I was able to really make a difference. Last year we signed a $50 million program to help reeducate coal miners in Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Kentucky.”
I couldn’t help but brag; it was one of my proudest accomplishments to date. Truly making a difference rather than pointless bureaucracy. Luca looked up at me and I saw admiration in his eyes. Or maybe respect.
“Wish my dad could’ve done one of those programs,” he said.
“He still can!” I said excitedly. “The programs runs through 2025. Or do you mean he’s too stubborn to try? That has been our biggest roadblock with many of these programs. Convincing people to actually take advantage of them.”
“He died of cancer.”
I sucked in my breath. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
Luca shrugged. “Me too. It’s been 10 years.”
“Lung?” I asked.
His laugh was bitter. “Is there any other kind for a miner?”
I shook my head and ate some more salad. “Now if only we could pass some real healthcare reform.”
“If only,” he agreed.
Desperate to change the subject from my agent’s dead dad, I asked, “You’ve been an agent for 15 years?”
“Yep.”
I stared at him some more until he elaborated.
“I got a full ride to Louisville on a baseball scholarship. Criminal justice. I planned on being a cop, but one of my professors convinced me to apply for the Secret Service on a whim. I never thought I’d get accepted. 15 years later, here I am.”
“You like it?” I asked.
He picked at a French fry. “It’s what I was made to do,” he said with simple certainty. “There’s nothing like it. Every day I wake up and keep some of the most important people in our country safe. Every time I walk into the White House I’m awestruck. Even 15 years later.”
There was immense pride in his voice. It made me feel guilty.
“Sorry you have to protect a ditsy senator from Ohio.”
“You’re not ditsy,” he said. “Some people might be fooled by your looks, but you’re sharper than most of the politicians I’ve been around. Plus, you’re still one of the most important people in the country.”
“So, is it true?” I asked, pushing him now that he was opening up. “You pissed off the wrong person in the White House, and were assigned to me as your punishment?”
He paused before answering. Choosing his words carefully. “A special agent goes where they’re told. It’s an honor to serve, regardless of the assignment.”
“Come on.” I leaned forward. “I’m a politician. You can’t bullshit me.”
He popped the last bit of sandwich in his mouth. “Let’s just say I walked in on a powerful person engaged in some… shall we say, strenuous political lobbying.”
I almost choked on my tea. “Seriously!”
“Yep.”
“There’s no way you can drop a tease like that without telling me who it was. POTUS?”
His eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t tell you.”
“The veep? Someone in the cabinet?” I paused, realizing I was making sexist assumptions. “What about FLOTUS? She did just fly back to Arkansas unexpectedly.”
“Stop it.”
“Okay, okay, okay. You don’t have to say it out loud. Just blink or something when I come to the right person. Secretary of the Interior. Secretary of Defense.”
“You’re relentless!” he said, smiling.
“Secretary of Agriculture. Oh! You blinked! I knew Donaldson was a creep!”
We spent the rest of lunch laughing and teasing one another about which members of the administration were most likely to get caught having sex in the oval office.
16
Elizabeth
I told Luca to meet me over at the subcommittee room while I used the restroom. I almost expected him to insist on following me, but the interior of the Capitol Building was just about as safe as a person could get.
Having lunch with him was a lot of fun. It was nice to get to know the people protecting me. If I ever did become VP, or even POTUS someday, I wanted to make an effort to keep that up. I never wanted to be one of those leaders who ignored all the people around them. I would never let myself become too good for that.
I slipped into the restroom by my office to touch up my makeup before the finance subcommittee. I was going to be grilling the banker who was testifying today, and I knew I would be on camera. It was only C-SPAN, but still. I had to look my best.
This bathroom was my favorite because it was close to my office and rarely occupied. It was also quite fancy, with a row of individual makeup mirrors and sitting cushions. Like something Jacqueline Kennedy might have designed.
Touching up makeup gave me some rare moments of peace and quiet. Even if I only got a few minutes of it per day, it was better than nothing.
I was reapplying blush when the restroom door opened. I was annoyed at the intrusion, but didn’t glance over to see who it was. I didn’t own the bathroom, after all. I just hoped nobody else would discover my secret low-traffic restroom.
The person stood just inside the door. They didn’t move. Finally I twisted to see who it was.
A man.
In the women’s restroom.
Panic washed over me. An intruder. And my Secret Service detail was back at the subcommittee…
My alarm turned to relief. “Anthony?”
My favorite U.S. Capitol Policeman gave me a wink, then ducked to check to make sure the stalls were empty. When he confirmed that they were, he fixed me with that same cocky grin.
“Afternoon, Senator O’Hare.”
I crossed one leg over the other and gave him a long look up and down his body. “My memory may be fuzzy, but I seem to recall you having the wrong hardware for this bathroom.”
“I’ve got the right hardware for you.”
“Be that as it may,” I said, “why are you here in the women’s restroom?”
He strode toward me, starched uniform swishing as he went. He planted his fists on the makeup counter behind me, one on either side of my body, and lowered himself down for a kiss.
God, his lips were warm and sweet and exactly what I needed. I wanted to give in to the feeling, but deep down I knew I shouldn’t. Even though he felt so wonderful…
“Anthony,” I said, putting a hand on his chest.
“Elizabeth.”
“The other night was amazing. The most fun I’ve had since before I can remember.”
“But…” he said.
“It sounds like there’s a but coming.”
“But, we can’t continue this.”
“Why not?” he asked teasingly.
“Because I can’t afford a political scandal right now. And neither can you. Right? You said they’d have your head if they found out you weren’t at your post when I was attacked.”
Anthony’s dark eyes sparkled from the lights above the mirror. “It’s only a scandal if we get caught. Until then? This is a sexy affair.”
He leaned in and kissed my neck, planting his lips down until he reached my collarbone. Affair. Good lord, it sounded so hot calling it that. My affair with Anthony.
It would be so easy to give in to him. My body was practically screaming at me to surrender to the desire…
“You’re not going to want to be around me soon,” I said. I wished I could tell him the reason why, because then he would truly understand.
“I highly doubt that,” he rumbled into my neck.
I shivered as his beard tickled along my skin. “I’m serious. I’m about to be politically radioactive.”
He pulled back to look deep in my eyes again. “Then we’d better make the most of it until then.”
The voice inside my head disappeared.
He kissed me hard while tugging my skirt up my thighs. His sidearm rubbed against my arm, which was simultaneously alarming and really hot. An extra layer of danger to our act.
“Anyone can come in!” I breathed as he pulled my panties off.
“That’s what makes it exciting.” He spread my legs on the cushion and looked up at me through his long eyelashes. “You’ve awoken something in me, senator. I can’t help myself.”
He buried his face in my sex there in the makeup booth in the restroom. There was no way to stop him; I possessed neither the words nor the willpower. I tried to suppress my moans while his tongue explored my insides but soon I was grunting like a wild animal. By the time he pressed two fingers inside my pussy and focused his mouth on my clit I was clenching my eyes shut, blinded my the pure, forbidden pleasure.
I grabbed a handful of his hair and held him against my sex as I began to come. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold in the cries any longer he clamped his hand over my mouth. Freed from fear, I screamed my ecstasy into his warm palm while he sucked on my clit and rubbed my G-spot with his fingers. My climax was rough and almost painful, wrenched out of my body from the fingers and mouth of a gorgeous, amazing man.
My uniformed lover looked up from between my legs with that same cocky grin. “You’re so fucking hot when you come.”
I grabbed his head and pulled his lips up to mine, tasting myself on his tongue. “Fuck me,” I said. Begged.
“You’d like that, huh?”
“Mmm hmm.” I reached for his zipper. I needed to feel him inside me. I wanted to make him come as hard as I had. I needed to see it on his beautiful face.
But Anthony gave me a final kiss on my lips and then backed out of my reach. “That’s all for now.”
“What?” I gasped.
“I’ve got to keep you wanting something. Think about that until I see you again.” He checked himself in the mirror, pausing to straighten his tie. “Take care, Senator O’Hare. I think you’re late for your subcommittee.”
He left me sitting there in the makeup area, out of breath and spent.
17
Ethan
My superpower was that I could sleep anywhere.
And I mean anywhere.
Moving vehicles were a given. Car, train, bus, airplane. You name it. If there was scenery rapidly moving outside the window, I was guaranteed to be asleep within seconds. Didn’t matter how much sleep I’d already gotten or if I’d just pounded three cups of espresso. I was out.
But I could catch some Zzzs in other places too. A park bench. An office chair. One time I was at a concert at a small indoor venue and I fell asleep leaning against the wall while the opening band played.
Sleeping in a car inside a parking garage? No problem.
It worked out well for jobs with strange hours. Staying up all night outside the senator’s bedroom was easy when I could grab eight uninterrupted hours in a reclined car seat.
I stretched inside Elizabeth’s car and took a sip of the now-cold mug of coffee I’d brought with me this morning. I had no idea when she’d be done on the Hill—her schedule could fluctuate depending on how late the senate session went, or any of her subcommittees. But that was fine, because I had a book to read and time to kill.
I checked my watch, then pulled out my phone and opened the C-SPAN app. They had live video feeds of the senate and house floors, as well as the various subcommittees. I found the Senate Finance feed and launched the video.
Elizabeth’s face immediately filled the screen. She was seated behind a curved brown desk with all the other senators on the committee, so I could only see her upper half. There was some color to her cheeks and fire in her eyes.
“Mr. Thompson, you didn’t answer my question,” she said. The camera cut to the man seated before the committee. The CEO of a bank. “Your financial institution was given government subsidies to help extend affordable car loans to working class families.”
“Senator O’Hare,” the bank CEO tried interrupting, but Elizabeth wasn’t having any of it.
“These were subsidies you lobbied for. You came before us two years ago and insisted government assistance was the only way you could extend your car loan program. Isn’t that right?”
“Senator O’Hare, what you don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly well,” Elizabeth said, venom dripping from every word. “You begged us for that money, and then turned around and used it to give your top executives larger bonuses. Bonuses which were—” She paused to review her notes. “—75% larger than last year, despite a drop in operating income. Isn’t that right?”
Elizabeth tore the CEO apart to the point that he was sweating and fidgety. Part of it was political grandstanding on her part, but it was mostly deserved. I’d read a report four days ago about how that bank was under investigation for bribery and other corrupt business practices.
“Let him have it,” I cheered, alone in the car.
When she was done I turned the feed off and leaned back in the seat. I loved being a bodyguard. All in all, it was a reasonably cushy job. It gave me lots of time to read. I didn’t stress out too much.
Because that’s the thing: most of the job was spent doing nothing. Waiting around for something to go wrong, like a firefighter. Sure, when the senator went for a jog I was suddenly on alert looking for any potential threats, and I kept my ears alert during the night for suspicious sounds. But most of the time, I did jack shit.
My kind of job.
Definitely better than my night job.
It seemed like every dude’s dream job. It was mine, when I first found myself being recruited for it. Have sex with women for money. The pay was outstanding for a night of work. Honestly, it was usually just an hour or two. Most of our clients were paying for our convenience and discretion. When I was done with them, they wanted me gone.
$5,000 a pop for that? Hell fucking yes.
But it had its drawbacks. Meaningless sex with women with deep checkbooks wasn’t very fulfilling. Most of them took their pleasure however they desired it and then sent me home. I liked that just fine at first, but after a while it got old. It sounded corny, but sometimes a guy wanted to cuddle.
Over time, it became a grind. Just like any 9-to-5 job. Punch-in, do your work, then punch-out.
Until she came along.
My client from the other night had ruined me. Being with her wasn’t like being with other women. We had chemistry. Something special beyond just two people exchanging money for services rendered.
The first time she booked me, I’d thrown her on the bed, dragged her ass to the edge, and then fucked her for all I was worth. That’s how the file said she wanted it: hard and fast and without any pleasantries. B
ut she was hot. An hourglass figure and tits so beautiful they looked carved from marble. The mask accentuated the pleasure, like we were doing something dangerous. More dangerous than someone hiring a male hooker. Her pussy had gripped my cock so tight that I almost came before she did. That would have been embarrassing for an escort in my business. And when I did come, it was like she sapped every ounce of moisture from my body.
This woman left me fucking dehydrated.
I couldn’t wait until she booked me again. Her schedule, so far, was once a week. I still had four or five days to go.
Unless she’s done with me.
The fear was persistent in the back of my head. There were a lot of guys to choose from in this business. Guys who were every bit as jacked or handsome as I was. More so. She had her pick of all of them.
What if she eventually got bored of me, and wanted to try something different?
Elizabeth and the Secret Service prick came out of the elevator up ahead. I pushed my thoughts about the mystery client aside. Daydreaming like that was a good way to get sloppy, and eventually fired.
Focus on Elizabeth. Think about the client later.
Luca opened the driver door. I gave him a sickly-sweet smile. “Anyone get shot on your watch, agent?”
“You catch anyone out here while snoozing?” He sniffed the air. “It smells like a homeless person in here.”
“Easy,” Elizabeth warned as she got in the back seat. “If I have to listen to the two of you bicker on the ride home I’ll shoot myself in the head.”
The dark humor made me laugh so hard that Luca turned and waited for me to stop before driving out of the parking garage.
There were two new USCP officers outside Elizabeth’s house tonight; one in the car and the other seated by the front door.
“See you tomorrow, special agent,” I said as Luca stopped short of the steps. “One suggestion? A different tie. Dark colors don’t go well with your complexion.”
I turned and went inside before he could say anything else.
Elizabeth sighed at me. “I was joking about shooting myself in the head, but the more I listen to you two, the more appealing it sounds.”
