Charity's Warrior

by Unknown

  "Oh my god, it's beautiful," I said after a sharp breath.

  "You like?"

  "I love," I reply.

  Justin smiles, satisfied. "The guest bath and the washroom are smaller duplicates. I loved it, so I ran with it."

  I giggled.

  Like an idiot!

  I really need to figure out why I am acting like this is our first time together. I have butterflies in my stomach for Christ’s sake! It’s not our first date!

  "I meant to tell you," he started, "I made dinner reservations for us at the Oval Room after a quick business meeting that you can sit in on."

  I don't think I heard a single question in there.

  "Is that anywhere near the Oval Office?" I joked.

  "Practically right next door," he said as-a-matter-of-factly.

  Okay, feeling silly.

  "Wait, you want to drive to DC and back, today?" I ask.

  He laughed, and I'm wondering why he did that.

  "No, we're not driving," he said. "We're taking my plane."

  "Oh." I didn't know what else to say to that. I'm feeling as silly as I probably can.

  That look crosses his face, making me blush again.

  I'm so far off my game.

  "I'll need my things from downstairs," I tell him.

  "No, you won't. Got everything you need right here."

  Since my cane is still in his bedroom, and he is still holding me up, Justin motions to the cabinet on my other side. "In there," he says.

  Curiosity at its peak, I pulled the door to the cabinet open. Every product I use is in there.

  "You want to grab your soaps and shampoos? And maybe a couple of towels for us while you're in there, Warrior?" he asked, that cockiness showing itself again. He's so proud of himself for having been prepared.

  I took two towels out and handed them to him. He put both on a metal warmer and flicked its switch.

  "Come on," he said as he started heading us into the shower.

  He pulls open the glass door and steps in, turning to help me next. He grabs my soaps and shampoos from me first, putting them on one of the tile shelves, then helps me in.

  "Do you need a pilot's license to work this?" I ask, seeing all the different nozzles and buttons.

  He smiles at me. "Let me give you a quick lesson. This one is the main. It turns everything on and off, and controls the temperature. All these here," he waves his hand over a series of knobs, "are just diverters for the different shower heads and nozzles."

  "And the keypad?" I ask.

  He pressed a button and music softly wafts into the room. "Music and a hands-free phone."

  "A phone—in your shower? Seriously?"

  "Hey—at least I didn't install a camera so I could spy on you when you're getting soapy and wet."

  I laughed hard, too hard. It was one of my snort-laughs that I'm just so fond of. Leave it to JP to make me do it.

  Ho-ly-shit!

  It finally clicks, why I am so nervous and blushing, acting like a clumsy kid. The reason it feels like this is our first time—is because it is!

  I've been with Justin, but never JP.

  And that's why he seems so different. I'm finally seeing both sides of his personality at once. Justin no longer has anything to hide with me, so I'm seeing all of him.

  For a moment I am struck by the impressive talent it takes to exist as two different people, not just for an hour, or a day—for years!

  I have to get to know him all over again. Justin I know, and I certainly know JP, but I don't know them together. Really, I don't even know which name he prefers.

  Christ! We're taking his plane to DC for dinner. I haven't been dating that guy.

  Justin is not high society; he's just the average guy. Okay, not average but still very much a guy you can meet at a bar. JP is powerful, controlling, and wealthy—everything Justin is not.

  How do I fit into that?

  "Just lean against the wall and spread your legs a bit. I'll take care of you. I promise I won't miss an inch," he said with a wink and that cocky little smile as he turns on the water.

  Yeah, okay—I think I can figure out my way through this.

  "I'm still going to need a dress from downstairs," I said as I put my palms against the tiles and spread my legs like I'm going to be frisked.

  "It's taken care of," he said, aiming a nozzle at me and wetting me down.

  He grabs my shampoo and proceeds to dump some on my head. "Let's take care of your I-just-got-laid hair," he teases.

  I will not complain. The feel of his hands gently running through my hair and massaging my scalp is absolutely wonderful. And I don't have to do a thing, just stand here and watch the shampoo run down my legs. It was actually starting to turn me on again. He's careful not to spray me in the face when he rinses my hair out.

  "You should consider doing this for a living," I flirted.

  Justin smiled. "Maybe it's something I can do when I retire."

  He poured my body wash into his hand and begins rubbing it all over my shoulders and back in slow, massaging circles. His hands really are golden. Three knots I didn't even know I had popped in my neck.

  He was extremely thorough. My nipples hardened under his touch, not just on them, but even some of my other sensitive areas. Feeling his member at half-mast and poking me on my back side was not helping to calm me down either. It was nothing short of a soapy, wet, full body massage from a young, naked, god. No woman in her right mind could get through it without wanting an orgasm, especially when it included his tongue flicking my ear while his fingers delved through my labia and clitoris to remove all the body lubricant he'd splashed on me earlier. As he carefully finished rinsing me, I grabbed his shampoo, ready to return the favor.

  "No," he said, taking the bottle from my hand. "I don't want you hurting your leg."

  He dumps the shampoo into his hand and begins to wash his hair. I'm not satisfied by that. I wait until his eyes are closed for a moment, and I grab his soap, pour some into my hand, and grab his cock with it. His eyes snapped open quickly.

  "You can get everywhere else, but I'm taking care of this part," I barked.

  It finished stiffening in my hand as I rub the soap all over it. I was polite at first, spreading the soap around his testicles and running my fingertips up his shaft, but he was able to maintain control a little too much for my liking.

  As he washed his back, I started jerking him off so fast that I can't see my hand as anything more than a blur. He has to stop and hold on to the wall.

  That makes me smile.

  Only a couple of minutes pass when he grabs my hand by the wrist and pulls it off him. For a moment I thought he was angry with me, that's how intense his face looks. He grabs my waist and forces me up against the wall, being very specific about where he puts me. He's pressing me into the tiles, his hands still on my waist holding me there as I feel his cock enter my pussy from behind. He buries it in me, and then I see his hand come up next to me, to the buttons on the wall. He presses one, and the water from overhead disappears.

  Suddenly fast, solid streams of water are gushing from the wall at either side of me, and one is rushing right down my clit. I think they're supposed to be for our feet—but I really don't give a shit right now!

  I feel him put his lips on my shoulder, and he starts fucking me while the water pounds my clit.

  It feels incredible, and it's not going to take long. He holds me flat against the wall like prisoner, as if I had any intention of moving. His hips slam into my wet ass, his cock filling me.

  I'm so sensitive; it's almost as if my earlier orgasms hadn't fully ended. And the water, making a wonderful, unrelenting vibrator, is too much. My orgasm begins to roll out of me softly. My quietly moaning voice is amplified in the shower as the pleasant release washes over me.

  No one has ever made me cum so much in one day. It's my forth orgasm already, and I'm wondering what our date is going to bring.

  As my breath slows, I hear
Justin's quiet grunting in my ear. His hips thrust hard as he climaxes in me and reduces him to a convulsing spasm. He collapses around me, being careful not to crush me into the wall, and hits a button that returns the water overhead.

  "I think you're trying to kill me," he whispers jokingly.

  The water runs down my face as I laugh.

  Eventually we do finish washing and step out of the shower. The towels are so warm they feel like they're fresh from the dryer. I dry myself off and catch Justin staring at me when I grab my things from his closet to get ready, holding onto the door for balance.

  "What?" I ask nervously. I'm feeling that same unevenness again, unsure if it is Justin or JP watching me.

  He smiles confidently. "You know you don't even need that stuff, Warrior? You are gorgeous before you even start."

  I blush for the fifteenth time today.

  "Hold on to that door for a minute," he said quickly, vanishing out of the room before I can ask why.

  I didn't actually listen to him. I hobble back to the sink and put my things down on the counter. Despite his compliment, I did need to get ready.

  I'm rubbing my lotion into my legs when a Jovani 2723 came flowing around the corner. The red was nearly a perfect match to the accents around his home. The long sleeves of the cocktail dress flared out at the wrists.

  "Oh my God," I breathed.

  Then red suede Christian Louboutin Aborina pumps came floating in with a matching clutch. Justin may be holding them, but at least for the moment, I can't see a damn thing but the dress, shoes and bag.

  After the rest of the world began to reappear, I see some Victoria Secrets dangling in his fingers. I was fully prepared to go commando if I had to, but I'm glad to see that won't be necessary.

  "I can tell from your face I got it right," he said. "Put them on. I want to see you in it."

  That was the JP in him. There was an assumption in his tone that I was going to do what he ordered. I was, of course, but the assumption is irritating. I think it bothers me because he knows just when to use it, exactly when my answer will be what he wants. I think it pisses me off because he knows me so well and right now if feel like I only know parts of him.

  A CAR TOOK US to the airport. The driver called him JP, so I knew what side of his life this was coming from. He was friendly, but visibly nervous around Justin. It was making me nervous watching him fumble with door knobs and keys. He was only comfortable when he was driving and Justin was staring at me instead of the road.

  We went through security easy enough. It was different than going through a main terminal at one of the big airports, and we were on the plane in less than fifteen minutes.

  Oh, and the plane? I'm expecting like a single prop Cessna. I'm thinking three seats including the pilot. I wasn't ready for the small jet Justin led me to, a twin engine Hawker 400XPR according to him. The pilot, Shain, met us outside the plane and called him JP, just like his driver.

  Shain was just as nervous, too. I'm noticing a pattern. So far the only people I've seen comfortable around JP, were Lena and John, both of who I suspect know him as Justin. Everyone that knows him as JP senses his power and succumbs to it. As JP, he sits a level above everyone.

  There is a stewardess on the plane. The second we boarded, she turned robotic, knowing exactly what is expected of her. "Yes, Mr. Collins. Would you like a drink, Miss Powers?" She became mindless. Her name is Anne, but I only know that because I overheard Justin call her over for more ice.

  The plane is beautiful, a single isle down the middle of eight grey, leather seats. It looks like there could be room for more, but I'm guessing Justin wanted to keep it roomy. It's bright and immaculate, everything in perfect order. The way JP likes things.

  Anne had poured us wine before takeoff, reminding us we would be in decent before we finished. She was right. I'm finishing mine now so that she can put the glasses away before landing. She took them for us and disappeared back to her seat up front. I think she's just as nervous as the driver and Shain, but she's been around him longer. She's learned how to provide the perfection her boss demands.

  "I wanted to ask you something, now that we're alone. John—he knows, doesn't he?" I asked to satisfy my curiosity.

  Justin smiles, looking proud of me. "Yes," he said easily. "He's my handler. He does the laundry between the businesses. I'm impressed that you picked that up."

  "It was easy to see, but only if you know there's something to look for. If I didn't know, I never would have thought anything except that you were closer friends with him than most others."

  "We go back a long way, John and I," he explained.

  "It shows," I said. "Most everyone else seems terrified of you."

  I thought that might upset him, maybe even surprise in a little, but he just gave his little wink and smile. It was no surprise to him. He was very aware of the presence he made.

  The question I'm too nervous to ask is—was that part of his act, or is that the real Justin?

  I held my mouth and watched out the window as we approached. I can see the Washington Monument at a neck-stiffening angle through my window. We are close enough already that I can see the traffic. Within moments, the trees are getting closer and I am bracing for the landing.

  Shain brought us down much smoother than I expected. For some reason I thought the smaller plane would land faster, and therefore, harder, but I was wrong. We taxied down the runway and they parked us beside a hanger.

  There's a car waiting just a few steps away, and the driver is already standing outside waiting for us. He's smiling a little too brightly to be one of Justin's regular drivers. He was, however, smart enough to know not to try to shake hands and make friends. I'm assuming some instruction was given to the service.

  "Mr. Collins," he said, extending his arm toward the car. After we pass him, he trots around to beat us and open my door. Of course, he did the same for Justin next.

  "No change in destinations, Mr. Collins?" I hear him ask as Justin is getting in.

  "No, no change," Justin replies in an extremely icy voice.

  Once Justin is seated next to me, the Ice King disappears, and the normal Justin grabs my hand. "You look so beautiful tonight. Have you ever been to DC?"

  I shake my head. "First time."

  "Then I get to show you off to the sights," he said, complimenting me. "I've arranged for the driver to give us a bit of a tour. If you like it, we should come back and stay when we have more time."

  Within twenty minutes, Justin was pointing out Ford's theater, where Lincoln was shot, and the house across the street where he actually died. I discovered DuPont Circle is for the certifiably insane. I will never drive that shit myself. We passed by the museums and the National Mall, and saw the White House the best you can from a car. It was as exciting as it was beautiful.

  An hour had zipped by much too quickly. I let Justin know I wanted to see the rest of it sometime. He looks pleased.

  He leans forward to the driver, his face changing instantly. Suddenly I'm sitting next to JP. I wonder if he even knows he does it, this switching character back and forth.

  "Let's head to The Oval Room," he orders.

  "What about your meeting?" I ask when he sits back again.

  "It's at the restaurant," he says, "at the bar before our reservation. I made it easy for us."

  The driver pulled us up right in front of The Oval Room. I admire the cement building and its glass awning through the window before getting out. I didn't realize how close to the White House it would be. The driver was giving Justin his cell number so we could call him back to the front when we are done.

  The driver lets Justin out, but Justin insists on getting my door himself. He gives me his hand and lifts me out carefully. I can't tell which side of him did that, the romantic or the perfectionist. Maybe both.

  It's much brighter inside than I anticipated, roomy, elegant. Pressed linens and armless thick red chairs dotted the space. Most of the tables are occupied, and
there is a low, comfortable murmur of conversation. The smell of the food is heavy in the air, making my mouth water instantly. It smells just delicious.

  "Excuse me for a moment?" Justin asks.

  I nod, "Of course," and watch him step away to the host. It's not so far that I can't hear them.

  "The Collins party," Justin says sternly.

  The host, who was already looking sharp and professional, stiffened. "Welcome, Mr. Collins. The bar is ready for you. Your table will be ready in about thirty minutes, and held until you would like to sit."

  Justin passes him a tip. I'm glad to see the host relax a touch. The way he looked, I was afraid the poor man wasn't going to be able to use the bathroom for a week.

  Justin motions me to his side, holding out his hand for me to hold.

  The host picks up the handset of a phone hidden in his podium and pressed a single button. "The Collins party is here," he announced to whoever had answered. He hung up without another word. "This way please," he said as he led us into the dining room.

  I see the bar as we approach. It's very handsome, but also very small. There are no bar stools to sit on, but I see two men carrying a few over now. I quickly realize Justin has reserved the entire bar and removing the chairs was how they'd accomplished it. Three chairs are placed down just as we arrive. On the third one they place a paper reservation sign.

  I have never seen anything like this in my life, yet Justin looks as if it's all perfectly normal.

  One of the staff briskly walks away. The other moves behind the bar and produces a bottle of wine that Justin obviously pre-arranged, a 2000 Ausone, Saint Emilion. He fills two glasses while we sit and puts the bottle on the bar top to wait until we need refills. When he's done, he moves to the far end of the bar, giving us privacy.

  "When he gets here," Justin starts, "don't be offended that I do not introduce you. This is going to be easy and fairly quick, I don't expect any problems, but for my own peace of mind, I'd rather he not know who you are. He will assume you are one of my team, so he'll be too afraid to speak to you anyway."