by Chelle Bliss
I practically dive back onto the bed and immediately wrap my hand around my cock, ready to put on a show for my wife. She has a fascination with watching me masturbate. Something I taunt her with often. But she doesn’t know I have the same fascination; watching her touch herself is unlike anything in the world.
Reagan slides across the mattress, resting her head on her elbow as she watches me. I could give a fuck what she’s looking at as I zero in on her luscious breasts, wishing I could touch them.
“Baby, lemme see your pussy,” I tell her, tightening my grip around my shaft, pretending my palm is her beautiful cunt.
“Jude,” Tyson calls, knocking on my hotel room door.
“Fuck,” I hiss and tip my head back, praying he’ll just go away.
Reagan smiles and bites her lip, clearly hearing Tyson’s voice and the repeated tap on the door.
“I can see your light on through the peephole, asshole. Open up.”
My hard-on instantly dies in my palm. Not even the little peep show my wife’s giving me, fucking with my head as she does, can maintain my rock-hard cock.
“You’d better go,” she says, spreading her legs open just to make the entire situation worse. “I’m gonna finish what we started. You have fun with Tyson.”
I growl and reach for the laptop, trying to get a better look before the screen goes black.
“I fucking hate Tyson,” I mutter as I climb off the bed, knowing that what started out as a great end to my evening has died… right there with my cock.
9
Reagan
Andrea Matisse is not what I expected. Our lunch at a small café has lasted nearly two hours, and I’m not ready for it to end, even though I have another meeting soon.
With her platinum blond hair that falls just past her ears, brown-framed glasses, black linen pants and a pretty dark green blouse, I can see why she is so successful in fashion. Andrea doesn’t look like everyone else. She has her own style and no concern for whether anyone else approves of it. Even the wrinkles at the corners of her fifty-something eyes seem fashion-forward.
“Part of me misses talking about fashion every day at a microscopic level,” she confesses. “Not just the trends, but the whys behind them. I’d spend hours in meetings about jewelry or hats, listening to my editors pitching articles about fresh ways to cover them.”
She shrugs. “But now, I never have to do anything I don’t want to do. As a magazine publisher, I had to sit through lots of meetings that weren’t my cup of tea.”
“Meetings are my life when I’m here,” I say.
“And most of them must be with blowhard politicians who like nothing more than the sound of their own voice.”
She wrinkles her nose with distaste, and I laugh.
“There’s definitely some of that,” I admit.
“So, do you talk to your husband about your work?”
“Some. We both try to avoid the things we know will cause a fight.”
Andrea arches a brow. “Between a Republican and a Democrat, isn’t that everything?”
“Not really. Jude and I actually agree on a lot. Too many people in politics focus on what divides us rather than what unites us.”
The waiter approaches, and Andrea nods her approval for two more glasses of wine. Fortunately, my next meeting is with my boss, who knows I’m here and will be thrilled the meeting is running late.
“Tell me some of the things you agree on,” she says, looking at me over the rim of her glasses.
“Let’s see…equality. Jude served with people of all races and backgrounds, and he firmly believes we all deserve the same rights and opportunities.”
Andrea is studying me as she says, “Yes, we deserve that, but do we have it?”
“No. Not even close. One of the things I miss most about being a state rep was working for the marginalized.”
“A privileged white girl like you?”
“Yes. I was raised by a strong mother who came from a poor family. She reminded us often how fortunate we were. We volunteered at homeless shelters growing up, and those experiences really stayed with me.”
“Good for you.”
I thank the waiter for the glass of wine he sets down and continue. “Jude and I both believe in education. We’re for increased funding for public education, preschool, and college. Our country has a lot of bright kids who deserve the same opportunities kids from affluent areas have.”
“Agreed.” Andrea takes a sip of her wine. “What’s something you two disagree on?”
“Ah…we try not to talk about those things.” I laugh nervously.
“Worried I’ll leak it to the media?” She gives me a shrewd look.
My cheeks warm at the way she read my mind.
“Don’t worry, dear. I avoid the media above all others. And you know I keep to myself. Our conversation stays between us. You have my word.”
“I trust you.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and clear my throat. “Gun control is something Jude and I never discuss. And while I may not agree with his views, I do respect them. His military service is part of why he feels the way he does, and as someone who didn’t serve, I don’t think I get to judge his views.”
“Spoken like a true diplomat.” Andrea smiles at me across the table.
“I know some politicians double-talk. My father used to say that believing in everything is the same as believing in nothing. I’m not trying to talk my way around anything, I just think that we’re never going to get anywhere if we keep belittling others and taking hard-line stances. Compromise is everything. Not just in politics, but in life.”
“And when are you running for office again?” Andrea’s eyes twinkle as she speaks. “You’ve got my vote.”
“Ah, that’s awfully nice, Mrs. Matisse.”
“Andrea, remember?”
“Yes—Andrea, I mean. I don’t want to hold office again. I realized I’m a much better behind-the-scenes person.”
“Behind the scenes for your husband?”
I consider. “Sometimes. But also for causes I believe in.”
“Hmm. I feel the same way about what I do.”
I can’t help a slight laugh. “Andrea, you’re anything but behind the scenes. You change people’s lives. The money you gave for that clean water initiative in Africa saves lives every day. My work is nothing compared to what you do.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Bipartisanship can create change that will transform lives.”
“I hope so.”
Andrea takes a silver tube of lipstick from her bag and applies a neutral nude shade. “And do you love your work, Reagan?”
“I do.”
“What’s one thing you’ve done at this job that made you feel amazing?”
I furrow my brow as I consider. “Well…I’m still fairly new. I guess, if I’m being completely honest, getting this lunch with you would be my answer.”
Andrea laughs at that. “Because I’m the elusive billionaire everyone wants a piece of?”
“No.” I smile. “Well, sort of. I mean, there’s that. But also because of the work you’ve done. I read that Time article about the scholarship program you created. And when you said the wealthy can waste away their lives on yachts or they can make the world a better place…it resonated with me.”
She’s giving me that studious look over the rim of her glasses again. “From what I read, you’ve been on the job for more than a year now. That’s not ‘fairly new’ in my mind.”
My cheeks warm. “I guess you’re right.”
Andrea sits back in her chair, quiet for a few seconds. “And still nothing accomplished that you love, outside of this meeting.”
“I love the mission I’m working toward,” I clarify. “I believe deeply in it.”
“And you’d like a large donation from me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t turn it down…but no. I just wanted to meet you. Maybe soak up some of your mojo.”
She studies me in silence
for a few more seconds.
“I’ll have my secretary send a check.”
“That’s truly not necessary, Andrea.”
She balks at that. “This from the girl who just told me she wouldn’t turn it down?”
I laugh. “I’m not here to play you for money. Can we just end the lunch as two women who know each other now? Who might want to get together again sometime?”
“Certainly. But I’ll still send the check. Not because I like you, but because I support the mission of your organization.”
“Okay. Thank you for your generosity. We’ll put the money to good use.”
She glances over at her security men, who are killing time at a nearby table. They rise and come over.
“I do like you, though, Reagan Titan,” she says.
“I like you, too. Thank you for taking the time.”
“I like you so much that I’d like to offer you a job.”
My lips part in shock. “A job? Me?”
She stands up from her seat. “I’d like you to work for me as a proxy, vetting projects and organizations in need of support. I travel in person to check out every cause I donate to for myself, and well…there’s only one me. And while I don’t believe in lounging away my life on a yacht, I do have a husband who likes to vacation and spend some time with me.”
I grin up at her. “You have no idea how much I can identify with that.”
“So, what do you say? Will you work for me?”
“I…can’t give you an answer yet. I need to talk it over with Jude. But I’m absolutely honored to be asked. Thank you so much.”
“I hope you’ll say yes. I’ll email you some details, and you have my number.”
She nods and turns to follow one of the security guys out of the restaurant, the other one trailing behind her and looking from side to side as they exit.
I’m so stunned that I just sit in silence for a minute. The waiter comes to collect the check, and I pay him on autopilot, my mind reeling as I think about the offer Andrea just made me.
After I sign the bill, I take out my phone to text Jude and see I have a text waiting from him.
Jude: Good luck with lunch, babe. Lemme know how it goes.
My heart warms with happiness. I looked at Jude’s schedule for today on my phone this morning, and it was packed. He started with breakfast with a veterans group at six a.m. and didn’t have any downtime built in until eight tonight.
But still, he remembered my important lunch and texted me about it. That’s how he is—stubborn and overbearing, yes, but also the most devoted best friend I’ve ever known. My biggest supporter.
I need to connect with him for a few days on the campaign trail. I miss his smile, his scent—his unparalleled way of helping me wind down at the end of a busy day.
For now, I have to settle for texting, so I type out a message to him.
Me: It was amazing. Andrea is so much more than I even expected. She’s sending a donation, and guess what??? She offered me a job, baby! I can’t believe it.
I head out of the café to walk back to my office, and Jude responds on the way.
Jude: A job? Wow, congrats, love. I’m not surprised she picked up on how amazing my wife is. What’s the job? What did you say?
Me: I want to tell you about it in person. I told her I need time to talk it over with you. Can I join you on the campaign day after tomorrow for a couple days?
Jude: Hell yes, you can. You never have to ask, babe. Just show up. I’ll have my new scheduler get us nicer hotel rooms that night away from Tyson.
Me: Yeah, I’m NOT sharing a room with Tyson. Just you and me.
Jude: Of course. Good thing I packed the ropes.
My stomach flutters in anticipation of being tied up and teased by my husband. I wish I could go to him this second, but I have to stay here through a meeting I have in the morning.
Me: Yes. Good thing. I’m wet just thinking about last time.
Jude: I’m sitting in a meeting with labor reps, don’t make me hard.
Me: Me? I would never…
Jude: I’ll spank that sass out of you, Mrs. Titan.
Me: And I may come just from that. You won’t even need to unzip your pants.
Jude: I’m putting my phone away now. Call u later.
Me: Love you so much, Jude Titan.
Jude: Love u too, babe.
10
Jude
I shake the last few hands left in the auditorium. The rally was a resounding success, filling the space to capacity, and having to turn possible voters away because of it.
“Next time, we’ll book a bigger venue,” Tyson says as he stands at my side as he reviews some paperwork.
“Thank you for coming, ma’am.” I smile at the kind old woman as she pats my hand softly.
“My late husband would’ve loved that a man like you was running for office.” There’s a hint of sadness on her face as she speaks of him. “He hated politicians but was a staunch supporter of any veteran. He would’ve been over the moon to see a Marine sitting in the governor’s mansion.”
“I’ll do my best to make it there,” I tell her.
“I have faith in you, Mr. Titan. You have the tenacity for the job and will serve our state well.” She gives the top of my hand a final pat before she pulls away. “I look forward to watching your victory speech on television.”
“Thank you,” I say to her before she turns her back and wanders toward the doorway.
“You poll high with the seniors,” Tyson says. He’s always concerned with the polls and not so much the message.
“Is there a group I’m failing to win over?”
Tyson taps his pen against the papers he’s clutching in his hand and twists his lips. “You’re split 50/50 with women.”
“What? Women seem to love me.”
“Liberal women do not, Jude.”
“I’ll never be able to win over the staunch liberal. That only worked with Reagan.” I laugh and shake my head. “But that wasn’t an easy victory either.”
“You can’t sleep with them all, and it’s such a shame too.”
I cut Tyson a look that says shut the fuck up. “What time is it?”
“A little after seven.”
“Shit, Reagan’s plane landed. I have to go. She’ll be at the hotel soon.”
We’ve only been apart for days, but the time ticked by slowly after the way we left things. Even though we’ve smoothed over the issues that caused her to hop on a plane and me to storm out of the house, we haven’t really solved anything at all.
While she’s excited about her new job offer, I have more questions about the toll it’ll take on our already stressed personal life.
“Go,” Tyson says, but there’s no excitement or happiness in his voice. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Not too early,” I tell him with a smug smirk. “My wife and I could use a little private time.”
He reaches into his pocket and fishes out the key to the new hotel he booked for us to stay in. His taste in hotels this trip has been less than stellar, always trying to control the costs for the long haul of the campaign trail still left ahead.
“Stop being a cheap bastard. I’m sick of shitty hotels. The Branch brothers gave us enough money to at least stay in a hotel where I don’t have to sleep on top of the sheets.”
He rolls his eyes. “As a former military guy, I thought you could sleep anywhere.”
“I can, but that doesn’t mean I want to. From now on, make better plans. If we want to win, we can’t seem to be broke as fuck because we aren’t.”
“Yes. Yes. Of course.” He waves me off, basically excusing me because he’s probably sick of hearing me bitch.
A few nights, I slept on the campaign bus, finding the accommodations nicer than the shithole he booked for the evening. Tyson was a great campaign manager, but I swear to God, he’s become cheaper each year.
I rush out of the auditorium, walking the three city blocks to the
hotel. With each passing step, the excitement in my body intensifies.
When I step inside the hotel room, it’s empty. There’s a message on my phone from Reagan saying her plane took off a little bit late, but she was only running a half hour behind. Just enough time for me shower and get the room ready after a long day of shaking hands and kissing other people’s babies.
I pull off my clothes as the hot water from the shower fills the small bathroom with steam. After stepping inside, I tilt my head back, letting the spray splash my face as the water trickles down my body. My muscles are tense, but that’s more from the stress of the campaign than any real hard activity. But tonight, that’ll all change.
Having Reagan with me for a few days will be good for our relationship and my enthusiasm on the trail. As the election gets closer, I find myself less in love with the entire process. When I threw my hat into the political ring, I never thought I’d get this far and be vying for the biggest office in the state of Illinois. But I saw all the good I accomplished in the Senate, even though many of the bills I supported were killed by political party bullshit. The governorship would allow me more freedom and possibilities, less encumbered by the bickering from other states, to the detriment of my voters.
I wash up before stepping out, towel-drying quickly, and pull on a pair of loose shorts. I plan to spend the next twelve hours in bed with Reagan, only taking a break to eat. There’s nothing I want more than to spend time between my wife’s legs, pleasing her and reminding her she’s mine.
There’s a light knock and a jiggle of the handle before I hear, “Jude.”
My heart speeds up as I stalk toward the door and my wife. “Baby,” I say as she comes into view, standing in the hallway, looking as beautiful as ever.
I pull her forward, wrapping my arms around her as she drops her bag. She snakes her arms around my neck as she hooks her legs around my back, fastening herself to me. My lips are on hers, hard and quick, needing to feel every inch of her.
