by Abby Angel
Jesus fucking Christ. I need to get ahold of this train before it destroys everything I’ve worked to build. I take out my phone and look through my contacts. I see it right there. I need to call him. I need to call Carter.
I never thought I’d ever be in this situation, but fuck it. I’ll do anything for the people of this town. And right now, the only thing that there’s left for me to do is go to the one person I used to hate to see if I can’t make this right.
“Office of the Governor,” the voice on the other side of the line addresses me upon picking up my call. She sounds like an intern. Working for free. Maybe put it on her resume for after college. Hoping to get picked up by one of the political clubs around the state. Maybe run for office one day. Look to break the fucking glass ceiling.
“Let me talk to the Governor,” I say curtly, taking a sip of the beer that’s in front of me.
I wait for a minute as the girl on the other end of the line takes a breath. “I’m sorry, but the Governor isn’t taking any calls right now,” she answers me calmly.
He’s probably in a meeting. I can understand what that guy must be going through. I mean, it may sound like a fucking cliché, but after we had sex—and yeah, I didn’t fuck him or anything like that—but whatever we did together I’m classifying as sex—I did a lot of thinking. Sure, the guy grew up wealthy. But that doesn’t make him responsible for the problems that I had growing up. He’s not the cause of it. I can see that he’s trying to do what he thinks is right. So what if I don’t agree with him 100% percent of the time? We’re both fucking American and we love this country. And this state. We’re trying to do the right thing in our own way.
“Let me leave a message for him then,” I say patiently. She’s just doing her job. No need to get snappy with her.
“I’m sorry, the Governor isn’t taking any calls or messages at the moment,” she replies back without any pause this time.
What. The. Fuck.
What the fuck is going on? Is Carter trying to lock me out of this? Doesn’t he fucking realize that I have as much invested in this shit as he does? That if he’s locking me out and trying to make plans that could screw me over that’s not fucking cool?
“What do you mean he’s not taking any fucking messages?” I snarl into the phone, my annoyance coming out. A few of the people in the bar look my direction. There’s wariness in their eyes. As if they’re trying to feel me out. “Why are you even bothering to pick up the goddamn phone then? Why not just turn it the fuck off?”
“I’m sorry,” the girl repeats. “The Governor isn’t taking any calls, making any comments or responding to any messages, Mayor Jeffries.”
Wait. Did you read that? Did you see what she said?
She called me Mayor Jeffries. She knows who I am. She knows why I’m calling.
Which means that Carter must have given explicit instructions not to take my call. He’s up to something. He’s planning something.
And he knows I’m not going to like it.
You remember what I told you about understanding where he was coming from? You remember what I said about him being an okay guy?
Well, I was fucking wrong now, okay? You can forget every fucking word I said.
Carter Andrews is a fucking snake. His Dad was a slum lord and he grew up with a silver fucking spoon that was bought by the suffering of the poor.
I take another gulp of my beer and hear the reporter on the television talking again.
“At the heart of the matter are the residents of New Kingston, led by their mayor, who are fighting for the economic survival of their town—courting the wealthy Boltiador family who has extensive mineral and refining operations around the globe to set up several factories in the community, potentially bringing tens of thousands of jobs and a much needed shot of vitality to the local economy. However, this initiative goes up squarely against the signature environmental legislation designed to protect the state that was recently passed by the Governor. As each man belongs to opposing political parties, it was widely believed that the Independent Senator, Vivian Hawthorne would be available to intervene…” I stop listening when I hear some people rustling and the door to the bar opening.
Fucking Christ. Just what I need right now.
Dressed in an expensive—and very tight—skirt and blouse that hugs her body like a second skin, and looking every bit the elitist walks in fucking Tina Ling.
Luckily, no one in the bar really knows who she is. She walks straight toward me, not even batting an eye at the stares that she’s getting. I guess the people who know me around here aren’t really surprised at beautiful women coming to meet me here anymore.
But seriously. Thank God no one knows who she really is. The fucking Mayor of Shanghai. Who is actively lobbying the Governor and I to let the Boltiador factories move to China. If that shit ever came out, these people here would kick my ass out of town so quick and end my political career so quick, I’d be lucky if I ever got elected to a housing board.
“I’m not surprised to see you here, drinking your day away,” Tina says, pulling out a chair but standing instead. “Careful, too much beer and you’ll lose your alluring figure.”
I snort. I still look good. The world might be going to shit, but I still got my muscles. My gorgeous fucking body. And my foot long pussy pleaser swinging between my legs.
But if my cock ever twitched for Tina, those fucking days are gone. I look at her coldly. There’s only one woman in my life now, and she’s made in the fucking USA.
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, growling.
She reaches over and runs a hand down my arm. “Nice to see you too, Mayor Jeffries,” she coos. “Looks like you’re having what you would call a ‘bad fucking day’.”
“What the hell do you care?” I ask sharply, and I can tell people are trying hard to pretend not to listen while straining to catch a glimpse of our conversation. “You came up all the way from the city to tell me that?”
“No,” Tina says, after a pause. “I came to help you.”
I laugh darkly. “By giving up and letting you take those factories?” I ask her, looking into her dark eyes. “By sacrificing those jobs.”
She signs and leans closer as she whispers into my ear. “By knowing who your friends are, and helping them now, so that they can help you later.”
I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I can feel her hand rest itself on my thigh and give me a gentle squeeze. It slowly starts travelling up, heading toward my cock.
“Ms. Ling,” I say, controlling my temper and keeping my voice at a whisper as I turn to her and look her in the eyes. “I have never said this to a woman, but get your fucking hands off of me before I knock you the fuck out.”
Tina seems to straighten up at my words and her demeanor changes. She looks at me coldly.
“I’d watch your back if I were you, Liam Jeffries,” she says as if talking down to a fucking peasant. “You never know when you might lose even this,” she says gesturing toward the bar.
And with that she turns around and begins to walk away.
I watch her go, and wonder if I should have maybe taken her back to my place. That ass, as it flexes would tempt any man. But I’ve had better with Vivian.
A few minutes pass after Tina walks out of the bar and I realize the only thing keeping me together in all this is thinking of Vivian. And the night that we had—me, her…and yeah, Carter. I could sit here and think about that night all day but wouldn’t you know it, the news anchor has got to fucking keep ruining my day.
I listen in fucking horror as he begins, “The Daily Journal has also confirmed just now the fact that there is a fourth player in what is turning out to be the political scandal of the year in this quagmire. A Miss Tina Ling—from the People’s Republic of China and apparently the head of the local Communist Party in Shanghai. Ms. Ling is the de facto mayor of Shanghai and has just confirmed to this station in an exclusive statement that she has been meeting secret
ly as well with Liam Jeffries about the possibility of relocating the Boltiador family factories to China to comply with Governor Carter’s environmental legislation.”
Fuck. I’m fucking sorry, but I have no more fucking words. This entire political world is filled with snakes. And if they’re not snakes, then they’re fucking vipers.
“Can I get another fucking beer?” I ask the bartender.
She nods, her face dark, and pours me a pint. Then she looks at me as she spits in it. And calmly places it in front of me.
Yeah. I fucking deserved that right now.
Shit.
50
Vivian
Alright, hun, I think I can understand Carter cancelling yesterday. I mean, he’s got a problem with someone inside of his team or someone outside who’s trying to screw him. When a Democratic Governor gets accused of sending jobs over to Communist China, the last thing he probably wants to do is go out to Le Cirque with a Senator who is an avowed Independent and likes sex, and a Republican playboy mayor. At least, not to a restaurant where a steak costs $115 before sides.
So yeah, I mean, I can totally understand calling off dinner. But then, as the situation gets worse the next day, I would have maybe thought he’d give me a call to keep me apprised of the situation, you know?
But even if he didn’t I guess I can understand that. He’s probably thinking that it’s best right now to be in lockdown mode—completely hermetically seal himself off in a bubble. That’s why he’s a man, and I’m a successful woman.
When shit like this hits the fan, I usually go the opposite route. Go find allies as quickly as I can, and build a wall. It’s how all the times in the past some zealot has tried to make an issue about me being a “fallen woman” I’ve had the political capital and firepower to blow them out of the water.
I mean, I’m telling you this, but you probably already know. When you’re in trouble, you can retreat, or you can reach out to those closest to you.
I would have told this to Liam over dinner yesterday night, but we both decided over text that if Carter was in trouble, maybe we should just postpone by one night. I mean, we’ve actually done a lot of progress on getting these guys to see eye to eye. And I think we’ll like the outcome.
But dinner tonight? I got a phone call from Liam a couple hours ago, where he politely begged off.
“I just need some stuff I gotta fucking do,” he said into the phone.
I thought to myself that either something else has happened or he’s a bit worried. Maybe even someone on his team is telling him to put some distance between him and I.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. Sure, I’m a bit worried.
“It’s fine…” Liam says and trails off. “Just some things I got to sort out.”
Well, that leaves me with no plans for dinner, you know? I mean, if I had known, I’d have flown back to DC. I was really hoping to let our relationship—or whatever we have going between both men—grow and evolve.
I know, I know. I’ve been hot and cold with both of them. First I sleep with Liam. Then I have sex with Carter. But, you got to understand, hun, after each time, I just couldn’t decide.
I still can’t choose.
Liam has qualities that are irresistible. Carter has facets that make me want him more than anyone else. I can’t get either men out of my head.
That’s why I pulled away from both of them.
That’s why I stayed away.
And then…in the limo?
Let’s just say I got tired of not being able to decide. And let me tell you, babe—indecision paid off.
But I don’t know if I can keep doing this.
I mean, have you ever heard of a public servant—a Mayor, a Governor, or even a Senator having a relationship like this? Who would even vote for me? The Anti-Monogamy Party? Yes, it really does exist, by the way.
This entire situation is wrong. It’s immoral. It’ll cost me votes. It’ll give fuel to the fire for those people who paint me as this oversexed corrupter of Western democratic values. The Conservatives will hate me for sleeping with a Liberal. The Liberals won’t like that I’m sleeping with a Conservative. Pretty much the only people who will be in my camp are women who like hot men.
Don’t smile. This is serious.
This is what I’ve been thinking about all night—after a quick salad for dinner and a few glasses of wine.
I’m lying in bed, lounging after a long hot bath, and wondering just where in the hell I’m supposed to go.
I haven’t watched any television today. Cut myself off from the news. All so I could think about what kind of a grave I’m digging for myself.
I mean, imagine a life with Liam and Carter as we try to juggle our political careers.
Mmmm. Actually, let’s just imagine Liam and Carter first.
Imagination—it might not be as good as the real thing, but it’s pretty close. Especially when you’re all by yourself and the memories start bubbling up to the surface.
Laying in bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy nightgown and a lace thong, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The memories start to flood me, and I remember how it felt to run my fingertips over Liam’s and Carter’s naked bodies… Pressing my legs together, I feel that familiar wetness grow between my thighs as the memories become more vivid. My nipples become hard and sensitive, and the rosy tips brush against the fabric of my satin gown as my chest rises and falls steadily.
Vivian. I hear them whisper my name, their voices echoing inside my mind. Vivian, they repeat, the sound of my own name making my throat grow dry. I run my tongue over my lips, wetting them, and remember the taste of both men’s mouths. They tasted like a man should taste—leather, and salt, and warm desire—and their lips fit against mine as if the whole world had conspired for us to kiss.
I take one hand to my shoulder, my skin prickling as I push the strap of my gown down my arm. The fabric droops over my right breast, baring it, and I brush two fingers against my hard nipple. I don’t even dare open my eyes, afraid that reality might push away the dream state I’m in—I imagine both men here, lying next to me, their hands on my body as they explore every curve of my body.
Rubbing my nipple between my thumb and index finger, I sigh heavily, that familiar electric feeling spreading from my nipple toward my inner thighs. My pulse quickens, and with every beat of my heart, my pussy grows wetter. I press harder on my nipple, pinching it, and I start to feel the wet fabric of my thong sticking to my skin.
Behind my closed eyelids, I see Liam and Carter brushing their lips down my skin, their mouths eager to taste me… To devour me. I open my legs wide, almost as if they were really here with me, and allow my hand to slide down to my stomach… and then further down.
I reach for my thong and press on my clit with two anxious fingers. One touch and my breathing becomes deeper, a slight moan caressing my lips as I press down harder. I feel the urge to push my thong to the side, and to slide the fingers I’m using deep inside of my pussy. I almost do it, but I manage to resist it; I don’t want to rush this. Imagination might be all that I have, but that’s not an excuse to be hasty. If anything, it’s more of a reason for me to take my time.
I push down the other strap of my dress and bare both my breasts; using both hands, I squeeze them as I arch my back, my pussy burning in a slow boil. I hold off for as long as I can, but in the end I can’t resist the fire between my thighs: raising my ass from the mattress, I hook my fingers on my thong and push it down my legs. Slowly, I let my hand slide to my inner thighs, my heart drumming louder and louder as I go near my pussy. Using only one fingertip, I brush it lightly against my wet folds in a upward motion, only stopping when I’m touching my naked clit. Biting on my bottom lip, I press on my clit with two fingers and start moving them in a gentle circular motion.
It doesn’t take long for my soft pace to grow into maddening punishment. I remember how it felt to go down on my knees and see the two most perfect men I have ever met looking down at me
, and that… Well, that just makes it impossible for me to touch myself in a way that you’d call gentle. I let instinct take over, my fingers moving furiously over my clit as pleasure rages through my veins. With my free hand, I go back to grabbing my own breasts, squeezing them harshly as I imagine Carter sucking on one nipple while Liam uses his tongue on the other.
Why can’t they be here right now? Why does reality have to be so harsh? Forget all about money or status; I’d give all of that away just to have them in my bed right now. But I’m all alone, the sins of imagination my own company… I wonder if they’re in their homes right now, stroking themselves as they think of my naked body. God, I hope they are. I really do. Thinking of them, alone as I am, remembering how it felt to have their cocks ravage my mouth and pussy… That just makes me wetter.
Gritting my teeth, I let go of my clit and move my two fingers downward; I push them past my folds and move them inside, curling them upwards as if they were a hook. I go straight for my G-spot and press against it, electric sparks crawling up my spine and setting fire to my brain. But it’s not enough; I want more. Much more.
I let go of my breasts and move my free hand down my stomach; once again, I start rubbing my clit as I press harder on my G-spot, the sparks of pleasure growing brighter and wilder. I moan, the sound caressing my eardrums and covering me in goosebumps; arching my back, I start to moan even louder, that harsh pressure mounting inside of me.
For an instant, it’s as if I’m back in the limo with Liam and Carter, their naked bodies pressed against my own… Their cocks stretching my pussy and mouth. My body theirs to use and abuse. All this flashes behind my eyelids in just a heartbeat, but it’s enough; my pussy becomes tighter around my fingers, and I feel the whip of pleasure lashing out at my mind. I come hard, my fingers trembling over my clit as the muscles in my arm start to twitch.
