by Alexis Angel
“I hate to say anything good about the man, considering I spent the last several months saying bad things, but it looks like after that doozie of a press conference, we’ll see a more open and honest Michael Anders,” Jim Jenkins, his opponent commented to me after his concession speech. He went on to state, “Whereas before, if you were unemployed, elderly, poor, a single mother, working in manufacturing, or just basically not wealthy, you had cause for concern, it seems that the Mayor coming clean about his own skeletons has made him say and do some very, very different things.”
Only time will tell what the relationship with Mayor Anders and the City of New York will be like. During that time, many of you in Gotham will undoubtedly be wondering what happens to his estranged stepson who seems to have for the moment absconded with his wife.
“Since the Mayor and Jocelyn Carter were never truly married it turns out due to the form not being properly signed, there’s no real reason for a divorce,” his Chief of Staff Kenneth Loomis stated when contacted about this issue. “The Mayor wishes them both every happiness and hopes that they will keep him abreast of news of his grandson. But in all honesty, he’s probably going to be more focused on running the city.”
Citizens polled during Election Day stated overwhelmingly that the Mayor’s burst of honesty was what had made them finally favor him. Many stated that holding back such a key facet regarding his personality had affected him in other areas in how he presented himself to the public, which all coalesced to create such low approval ratings for him despite his photogenic family. I think that once citizens learned the full story of their Mayor, we began to realize that we may not like him as a person on some levels because he’s so busy, but the job of Mayor requires someone who will give it their all and sacrifice everything else. And that made him the top choice, by a margin of 63% to 37%.
That about does it for my coverage of this election cycle. I either need a vacation from politics, a long, hot shower to feel clean again, or both.
I can’t wait till Lance and Jocelyn come back to New York though—they’re currently in London—and you can bet that as soon as they have their baby that this newspaper will be all over them, getting the facts for your reading pleasure. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Epilogue - Jocelyn
The limo glides next to the curb of our new home in the city. I get out, and Lance comes out from the other side, holding the baby carrier.
I look up briefly. I can’t see the top of the tower to One57.
“How did you say you came to a decision to live here, again?” I ask him.
He shrugs as we walk into the ornate lobby. “I got a buddy who lives here,” he says.
“Someone from your wilder days?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
I can’t help it. Lance looks very cute carrying little Lola Grace in the baby carrier. A bad boy, certifiably with his tattoos, now a daddy.
“A buddy of mine from a while ago, actually, Arsen Hawke,” he says.
The name rings a bell for me. “The porn king?” I ask.
He nods. “His dad was the porn king, but he met some girl and they run it like a business now.”
“The guy who’s making webcams come into the mainstream?” I ask Lance. I’m a bit skeptical. “He’s not going to want to film Lola Grace or something, is he?”
Lance laughs. “Nah, but he’ll probably be down to him us.”
I give Lance a look. He looks at me and smiles and whatever withering stare I may have tried vanishes. I love this man too much to even be fake mad at him.
You know that feeling, hun? Where you’re mad at your significant other for being too cute to not let you be mad at them? Like you try to be mad at you, but then they just smirk or smile, or touch you somewhere and you stop being mad? And then you get mad that they were able to take away your anger?
Let me just say that I’d rather be mad about this, than where I was one year ago. Right before the election.
We open the door to the apartment and walk in.
It’s already furnished rather tastefully. I hired someone while we were in Europe to make sure that the apartment was ready for us.
What? I would have loved to do it myself, but it’s really hard when you have to have sex three times a day and take care of a baby.
Although, hun, the sex part - I don’t have to do it. It’s just that my body seems to want it that often, is all. Like I’ve been walking in a desert, and now I finally have all the water I could drink.
Besides, the $10 million a month that Michael pays me as a settlement lets me not have to worry about these things. Combined with Lance’s trust fund, I’d say we’re doing pretty good. Considering where we were.
There’s a knock at the door.
“That must be Michael,” Lance thinks and I’m almost tempted to say speak of the devil.
It’s funny. I want to stay mad at Lance, but I’ve already forgotten what that’s like. But Michael. I’m not mad at Michael. It’s just a chill that runs through me when I see him walk in the door.
He doesn’t have the human feelings that are supposed to be in people. Something like that. No way else to explain any of this…
“Hello,” Michael says walking in. “I just wanted to stop by, welcome you to my city, and visit my granddaughter.”
Lance shakes his hand and I bite back the urge to tell him he’s not related to our little family in any way. I was never married to him. He was never Lance’s father. But I stop.
“She’s beautiful,” Michael says bending over and examining Lola Grace.
The baby looks up at Michael, in a few minutes she’ll be crawling around the apartment, exploring. But for now, she’s content to stay bundled up where she is.
Michael gets up and turns around.
He hands Lance an envelope.
“Come back to work for the company and the campaign son,” he says to him. “Here is everything I have, and I think I’ve met your conditions.”
“The media hitting you that badly, huh?” Lance asks.
Michael shakes his head. “Not at all, actually,” he says. “They’ve embraced this whole breaking barriers thing I’m putting up at them. Really taking the narrative of the first openly gay mayor to heart.”
“Then why do you want me back?” Lance asks with suspicion.
Michael shrugs. “Well, considering that I have no need for a family, having the two of you there associated with me can only help in the polls,” he says. He looks out the windows. “I mean, with the city the way it is and problems always cropping up, you can never have too few positives on your side of the table.”
Lance looks at Michael for a second. There’s a lot of history between those two men. A lot of anger. Pain. Hurt.
Finally he nods his head. “I can give you another chance,” he says and Michael smiles.
The two shake hands. There’s a moment.
Then Michael turns to me. He knows better than to take a step closer.
“Jocelyn,” he says. “I’ve given Lance copies of everything I had on your father. He’s free and no longer ever has to worry.”
I nod. It’s going to take time for me to trust Michael. But if Lance is willing to try, I can match.
Michael says his goodbyes after a while and I turn to Lance. He grabs me in his arms, and the two of us walk to the floor to ceiling windows of One57. Of our new home.
Our new life. Together.
Just the way I want it.
Lance
Well, howdy, Cheryl.
That’s fucking right. I’m talking to you. Cheryl. Sitting there, with your lounge shirt and t-shirt. And, yes, you’re wearing a bra. Why? Because I told you to. So I could take it off.
No, don’t fucking look around you. I’m talking to you. There isn’t some other character called Cheryl. This is all you, baby. I’m here, just for you.
What? You’re not fucking rolling your eyes, are you? You’re not wondering to yourself ‘Oh Go
d, this is so silly’ are you? I guarantee it’s not going to be.
You did?
Oh, right, who am I? That’s the first question you had, and I didn’t even answer it. Sorry, I was just staring at your tits and thinking about what it would be like to squeeze them. You just read about me, babe. I’m Lance fucking Anders. Only, there’s no Jocelyn right now. She’s given me a chance to come out and get to know you. Although, we should really call it what it is, shouldn’t we? More like reward you, I think you’ll agree. Trust me.
Do I even need to describe myself? You know the tats that go up and down my arm. You’ve seen my pecs on the cover. You can feel my abs. What? You didn’t see the cock? You know it’s there, under my pants. Throbbing. Pulsing. Growing.
Don’t fucking worry, babe. It’s going to be all yours soon.
Just go find a quiet place where no one’s going to bother you if your cheeks get red. Because they fucking will.
And if you can’t find a place, just drown it out, and imagine yourself in my office. Deep, plus carpets. Overstuffed leather chairs. Fucking books on shelves all around me. And a mahogany desk, waiting for us.
Imagine me as I stand over you.
Imagine Lance Anders as I lean into you and close my eyes, my heart thumping harshly during that eternal fraction of a second during which I wait for our mouths to touch. When they do, I part my lips ever so slightly, fitting them on your mouth. I feel that dark energy of desire pulsing under my skin, an uncontrollable need to claim you. That’s right - since the first time I laid eyes on you that I wanted to claim you. To make you mine.
My hands go down to your waist while we kiss, my tongue wrestling fiercely against yours. My heart is racing, all of my blood boiling as it races through my veins. Raw, violent desire - that’s the only thing I’m feeling right now. And all because of you, baby.
I take my fingers to my collar and hurriedly untie my blood red tie. After I take it off and pull it around my neck, I push you back with my body, your ass pressed against my mahogany desk. Opening my hands, I place my fingers under your ass and lift you up slightly, making you sit on the flat surface of the desk. As you sit, I use one arm to sweep away everything that’s on our path - I don’t even flinch when I hear the sound of a keyboard, a myriad of papers and God know what else tumble down from the desk to the ground.
“I can’t fucking wait to be inside of you,” I say against your ear, pulling out from our kiss. I nibble at your ear while you slide one hand down my chest and over my belt, flattening it against my crotch - oh, I love it, baby. There, throbbing with an almost violent desire for you, is my massive hard cock. Yes, it’s this hard because of you.
I don’t say a word - I’m under your spell, one of lust and desire, and now there’s no going back. Not that I want to go back - not now that I feel the warmness of your body, the eagerness in your eyes.. I want this as much as I do, don’t you?.
I hook my fingers on your top and, with a simple vicious tug, I rip it open, baring your black lace bra. I’m completely out of control and, damn, do I love being like this - I’m so hard right now that the fabric of my pants is on the verge of tearing apart. You throw your head back as I grab you by the hair; you can’t help but moan as I bury my face between your breasts, my tongue tracing the whole length of the valley between your tits.
I don’t even bother with unclasping your bra, I simply hook two fingers on the cup of your right breast and pull, freeing your hard nipple. I pull on it with my index finger and thumb, and your skin prickles as I do it. With both hands you grab my head, forcing me down towards your chest; I go willingly, parting my lips and taking your rosy nipple inside my mouth. It feels delicious, let me tell you. I can feel you breathing raggedly through gritted teeth as I circle your nipple with my tongue, lapping at it with the ferocity of a man that won’t be denied. Oh, trust me on that, baby… I won’t be denied.
As I keep licking you, you let go of my head and I unclasp your bra, pulling both straps down your shoulders. The moment I feel the cups on your tits loosening, I yank them out of your body harshly, throwing the bra onto the ground before lunging at you again with my open mouth. You run your hands through my hair, pulling on it with almost enough strength to hurt me, but I don’t care - I’m grabbing your breasts, taking my time with each of your nipples.
Fuck, I didn’t know that it was possible to feel this much pleasure just from sucking on your nipples. Where have you been hiding all of my life, baby? You’re so fucking delicious that I just want to taste every inch of your body.
You start to rub your hand in circles over my crotch, massaging my hard cock in a frenzy. With my free hand I untuck my dress shirt, pulling it from my pants. Letting go of my crotch, you rest both your hands on my chest and push me slightly back - I look at you with wide hungry eyes, desperate to feel every inch of your body. With a wicked grin, I push on my shirt with as much strength as I can muster, the buttons popping up with a muffled sound and scattering around on the carpeted floor. I push the crisp white shirt down my shoulders, anxious to feel your fingers on my muscles. I know you want to touch my pectorals and abs, no need to hide that from me, baby - I’m more built than any man you have ever came across, we both know it.
You run your fingertips over my pectorals, letting them fall down the hills of my washboard abs. If I was hard before, I don’t know what to say about the state I’m in right now. Your touch just makes me go fucking delirious.
Smiling, you unbuckle my belt; I know you want to take it off and lower my pants, but I give you no time for it. Before you can react I’m on you again, my mouth tightly pressed against yours. You part your legs wide, allowing me to fit my body between your thighs. I’m thrusting with my hips already, an almost unconscious desire to feel my shaft against your pussy taking control of me.
But, lucky for you, I’m a patient man.
Pulling back slightly, I reach in between your legs with one hand, taking my fingers under your skirt and up your inner thigh. I can’t help but grit my teeth the moment my fingertips touch your drenched thong. I flick my index finger at it, tracing the contour of the fabric with maddening patience. Then, without warning, I press my flat hand between your thighs; I hear you moan through gritted teeth, and the sound of it makes me close my eyes as flames of pleasure go from my hard cock to my brain.
With your hands on my lower back, you lace your legs right above the hem of my pants, trapping me in place. Your fingers slide down my back and under my pants, feeling the tight and hard curves of my ass.
As you pull me in, I flick your thong aside, brushing the tip of my index finger over your wet folds; I do it slowly in an upwards motion, and then circle back around your clitoris with the precision of a man that knows what he is doing - because, trust me, I know what I’m doing. I rest my other hand on your knee, slightly hiking up your skirt; then, with an abrupt movement, I place both my hands on your outer thighs, my fingers grabbing at your thong. I pull it down and you lift your ass up as I slide the soaking wet underwear down your legs and heels. For a moment, I think of taking your heels off, but then I decide against it - they look good enough on you for me to want to keep them on during sex.
You lean back, supporting yourself on your elbows as I grab the hem of your skirt and start pulling it out down your legs as well. You sit there on top of my desk, completely naked if it weren’t for your heels. You look so fucking perfect, and I’m aching to have my thick cock pushing through your folds and lodging itself deep inside of you… I’m so utter and completely hard that it’s starting to fucking hurt.
With a smirk, I place one hand on your chest and push you down; you lay on your back, propping your heels up on the edge of the desk as I grab your knees, making you open your legs wide. You throw your head back, your eyes closed as you wait and anticipate my next movement.
I move closer to you, my hands running up and down your side, lingering over your breasts and then exploring every single curve of your body. I lean in, my lips softly on
your right knee; I go up, kissing your leg almost all the way to the waist before I take a shortcut towards your inner thigh. You gasp as my lips take a route that leads to your pussy, always avoiding to touch it entirely. Pressing with my thumb right above your clit, you just lose it - you thrust your hips up, trying to meet my mouth with your pussy, but I lay one forearm across your stomach and pin you down to the desk. You try to break my hold, but you’re no match for my strength.
I want to set the pace and and you have no choice but do whatever I want.
A quivering moan escapes your lips as the tip of my tongue laps at your pussy, gently running across your slit’s length. I do it painfully slow, taking my time as I scoop your juices - then, when you least expect it, I lean forward and place my open mouth over your pussy, sucking eagerly. You lift your feet up, placing your legs over my shoulders as I ravage you with my mouth; I suck and lick furiously, each time my tongue hits your clit your body trembling as if a jolt of electricity is running up and down your spine.
Your fingers run through my combed hair, dishevelling it as you guide the motion of my mouth. When I wrap my lips around your clit, sucking on it, your fingers turn into claws as you push my head down. My tongue continues circling around in a perfect rhythm, lapping at that sweet spot in you as if you were the most perfect woman on Earth… And right now, you are. And you taste fucking delicious.
I take my forearm out of your stomach and, feeling your body free, you grit your teeth and start to thrust at me, rubbing your pussy harshly against my face. You move your hips from side to side, spreading your juices all over my face as you start breathing heavily.
You try to speak between shorts breaths, but it’s hard for you, I know it. You want to tell me not to stop, but there’s no need for it - I can read your thoughts on your body, and I won’t stop. Not because you’re asking me, but because I can’t.
My tongue lashes out at your clit with unrepentant fury and, as you lace your legs behind my neck, you explode in ecstasy. Your moans tell me that your soul is boiling, consciousness drifting away from you as pleasure demands to take every available space inside your mind.
