by Chloe Lane
I cover my face with my hands. These kinds of thoughts—these filthy thoughts—have me wound up so tight there’s only one thing I can think to do to get any relief at all, and it’s not something a good professional girl should be thinking about.
But when I straighten up in front of my dresser, I know I don’t have any choice. It’s either this or I spend the entire evening with my pussy throbbing, aching with need for him.
No. Not for him. I can’t allow myself to get hung up on my boss. My boss who’s too old, too experienced…it would never work between us.
I slide open the top drawer of my dresser and move aside a stack of carefully folded panties. There, in the back corner, is the bag I’m looking for. Light and silvery and decorative, it holds the gift that my best friend Sarah gave me as a gag gift a few Christmases ago. I’ve thought about getting rid of it a million times, but I’ve always just tucked it back into my drawer.
In the bag is a dildo so large it makes my heart beat faster just looking at it. It’s long and almost as thick as my wrist. I sway my hips side to side and bite my lip, considering. I’m not a virgin, but the one college boyfriend who I had sex with—awkward, mediocre sex—wasn’t nearly this size.
I bet Senator Sterling is…
The thought sends a flush of pleasure down my back, and the throbbing between my legs ratchets up. Maybe it’s dirty. Maybe it’s filthy, the kind of thing a good girl would never do, but I need to be filled…and if all I have is this dildo, so be it.
I square my shoulders and go into the bathroom. The shower is hot in an instant, and I strip off the bra and panties and step inside, inhaling the steam that doesn’t even come close to matching my internal temperature.
The apartment complex recently renovated most of the units, and the shower design features a ledge for shampoo and soap. I move the bottles to the other shelf and sit on it, the hot water running down over me, and spread my legs wide.
“Oh.” It’s a relief to feel my own fingers slipping down over my folds, finding my clit, and rubbing in small, sweet circles, just the way I like it. The moisture from the shower combines with my own wetness, and in seconds I’m soaked. Who am I kidding? I was already soaked.
“Senator,” I whisper, and close my eyes, letting myself indulge in the fantasy that these are his fingers toying with my clit, his fingers slipping inside, one, then two, and then his rigid cock is pressing insistently at my entrance.
I grip the dildo with one fist and brace my other hand against the wall, pressing in its heft inch by inch, my pussy spreading around it, opening, encasing it. Soft, shuddering moans escape one after the other from my throat as it invades me, fills me, stretches me. I spread my legs a little wider.
“Please,” I beg, tipping my head back, even though it’s just me with this enormous dildo, even though it’s not him, even though, God, I want it to be him.
When the dildo is fully seated, I sigh. I am filled and spread, and the sensory overload sends tingles of electricity throughout my body. Drawing it out again, so that just one inch is inside of me, almost pushes me over the edge.
I slowly fuck myself with it—my mind filled with thoughts of him, of his muscled body, of his masculine scent—spread wide in my own shower, until at last I tumble into sweet release, my muscles clenching around the dildo, my body shuddering in time with my orgasm.
Then I open my eyes and stifle a giggle behind my hand.
He can never know that I’m so bad.
Chapter 4
Senator Sterling
One week in, and the size of this office is driving me crazy.
No. Not the size of the office. I’m grateful to have a position in the United States Senate, serving my constituents to the best of my ability. It’s just how close Marci is to me, hour after hour, day after day.
She’s so damn dedicated. She comes in early, she stays late, and she never lets anything slide. In the first week, there have been zero scheduling snafus, and she anticipates my every need.
This morning is no exception.
When I come in through the waiting area, she’s leaning over my desk, fanning out a small stack of folders, her sexy ass covered in a navy pencil skirt. She responds to the sound of me walking in by raising her huge green eyes up from what she’s sorting on the desk, a professional smile already blossoming on her face. But there’s something else there, too, a color in her cheeks that tells me she has a secret, that she’s been thinking of something else while she lays out the folders.
“Good morning, Senator.” She lifts a paper cup from the desk and crosses the room, extending it as she does. “Coffee, extra hot, with just the right amount of cream.”
The way her lips curl around the word cream has my cock harder than steel in a second flat, and the smile that crosses my lips is just borderline professional. The words out of my mouth, though, are over the line. “You know just what I want.” Her rosy lips part a fraction of an inch, and the breath she takes in is almost a gasp. The color in her cheeks deepens. I want to put my thumb into her mouth, up against those perfect teeth, but instead I take the cup from her hand and let a twinkle return to my eyes. “Maybe I should cut back.”
“On—on the coffee?” One corner of her mouth turns up in a smile, but I can hear in her voice the way her breath has gone shallow. “I don’t—” She straightens her back, bites at her bottom lip for a fraction of a second, and then remembers herself. “I don’t think you’ve gone overboard on the caffeine yet.”
“Let me know if I get too jittery.”
She responds with nothing but a smile, and then she steps carefully around me, heading back to her desk. As she goes, the phone rings and she picks up the pace, striding gracefully to the desk and smoothly picking up the receiver.
“Senator Sterling’s office.”
I take off my coat and walk it back out to the coat rack, feeling her eyes on me as I go. She shook off my comment, but there’s definitely an unspoken tension lingering in the air between us.
As I move back across the waiting area, Marci picks up a pen from a holder on her desk and bends to write something on a pad of paper. “Mm-hmm,” she says to whomever it is on the other end of the line, and I wonder how those lips would feel wrapped around my cock, wonder how that hum in the back of her throat would reverberate all the way to my center.
I take a seat behind my desk and pick up one of the folders she’s left there, but the words on the page inside are useless to me. I’m caught up in something else, and that something else is a damn fantasy, something that will never happen, not as long as I hold this office and probably not ever if I plan on pursuing an advanced political career.
It’s just that the little navy skirt that Marci’s wearing with its matching jacket, tailored to her lithe curves, the way she’s speaking low and soft into the phone, makes me picture her on her knees on the plush carpet right next to this desk, looking up at me with those eyes, her back straight, breasts pushed out, breath unsteady in her lungs.
“Take me into your mouth.”
“Yes, Senator.”
And then the vision of her bending forward, wrapping her sweet, wet mouth around my cock, struggling a little to fit it all in because of its size, but ultimately accepting it, licking, stroking, sucking…
Not just here, but at my new apartment, her knees sinking into the thick rug where my armchair rests, my forearms resting on the cool leather.
The thought of her coming home with me jolts me back to reality.
She can’t come home with me. Even if we were careful, even if we were discreet, there’s no way we’d be able to hide something like this from the DC rumor mill, and that’s not the kind of senator I want to be. That’s not the kind of thing I want to be remembered for in history—fucking my personal scheduler. And Marci—innocent Marci, who works herself to the bone for me—she doesn’t deserve that kind of reputation either. I know how seriously she took earning her political science degree. I could never take that away from her by
making her look like a whore in front of the political epicenter of the world.
My cock disagrees wholeheartedly, and I reach down and adjust my rigid length so that—I hope—my erection isn’t quite as obvious.
I hear Marci hang up the phone, and moments later she steps into my office and closes the door softly behind her. “I’m not interrupting, Senator?”
“Not at all.” I let the folder fall back to the desk.
“It’s just—” There’s a flash where I think she might say something entirely different than what comes from her mouth. “The first meeting today is with a constituent, and his wife just called. She was a little concerned that her husband might be—” She pauses, thoughtful, reflecting on what to say next. “In a bit of a temperamental mood.”
I laugh out loud, and the stiff line in her shoulders relaxes a little. “That’s all right.”
“I can cancel the meeting, if—”
“I can handle it.”
Marci dips her chin, a little smile on her face. “Yes, Senator.” Then she turns to leave, opening the door. “He’ll be here in just a minute. I’ll let you know as soon as he arrives.”
No time to escape to the bathroom, no time at all—for anything except wishing she’d come back into the room, close the door behind her, and ride me until we both found release.
Chapter 5
Marci
You know just what I want.
His tone was different, sensual, sexual, even if it was just for that six-word phrase.
I’m sure I’m not imagining it.
Back in the waiting area, I perch myself in the chair behind my desk, and then pick up the phone, dialing down to the staffers. My heart beats a crazy rhythm in my chest, and there’s nothing I can do to settle it.
I need morning updates.
Yes. Morning updates. I should have just enough time to get them before the Senator’s first appointment arrives. I dial the number, hands trembling a little, and John’s secretary picks up on the first ring.
“Morning, Marci!”
“Hi, Kathy. Can I speak with John, please? I need morning updates for the Senator.”
“Of course! Hey, how are things going up there?”
“We’re settling in. Everything okay down there?” I ask the question even though I know it is because I’m in contact with the group every day.
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” Kathy enthuses. “You sure you can…you know, handle it?”
“Handle what?” I answer with a little laugh, keeping it light to match Kathy’s tone. She’s bubbly almost to a fault.
“Being so close to him all the time. Those little offices—it must be hot in there!”
I laugh a little louder because her words make my stomach twist. It’s scorching in here, and we haven’t even touched. Kathy can’t know that. Nobody can know that. “You’re a hoot. Let me talk to John.”
His voice steadies me, but not enough, as I jot down some notes to take in to share with the Senator after his meeting. I’ve just hung up the phone when there’s a knock at the door. I put on my brightest smile. Leonard Smith’s wife sounded a little hysterical on the phone. Maybe I can head this off at the pass.
I rise from my chair, my most professional smile on my face, and come around my desk to greet him. “Good morning. Mr. Smith?”
He frowns at me, his wrinkles growing deeper. “That’s me.”
“Welcome to Senator Sterling’s office. Could I get you anything to drink? Coffee? We also have tea, water, and soda, if you’d prefer.”
His eyes narrow and he purses his lips, as if he’s wondering whether this is some kind of trick. Finally, he grunts an answer. “Coffee. Black.”
“Right away, sir. You’re welcome to have a seat,” I offer, gesturing to the loveseat.
I let my hips sway a little more than usual as I step over to the credenza where I keep everything we need to prepare beverages for guests—coffee mugs, some thick glasses—and pour him a fresh cup of coffee from the machine. I buy the Senator’s coffee at a café down the block, but everyone else gets premium Folger’s.
“I’ve talked to every one of my representatives in person for thirty years,” Smith booms when I hand him the cup.
“That’s quite admirable,” I say, looking at him with what I hope is the perfect amount of admiration. Then I cock my head to the side. “Do you always offer similar advice?” I shake my head a little. “There’s a lot going on out there.”
Mr. Smith’s face is softening, his expression turning indulgent. “You’re right about that, young lady.” His eyes slip down from my face to the neckline of the powder blue shell I’m wearing with the navy skirt suit.
I give a little sigh, like it’s all too much for my pretty little head to contemplate, then turn purposefully toward the Senator’s door. “Shall we?”
Mr. Smith straightens his back, and I lead the way across the small waiting area and knock gently on the door. “Senator Sterling, Mr. Smith is here.”
“Send him in!” His voice is jovial, yet commanding, and there’s not even a hint of the tension I felt between us only minutes ago. Another quick grin at Mr. Smith, and I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it, opening it wide to the Senator’s office.
“Mr. Smith, Senator Sterling.”
Mr. Smith shuffles a little closer to me than necessary as he passes by me to go into the office, his shoulder brushing against the front of my jacket. Instinctively, I stiffen, holding myself away.
I don’t want anyone to touch me but him.
The thought comes from somewhere deep inside my core, and I can’t stop the shiver that makes its way down the back of my spine. The Senator is the only one I want to touch me, even if that’s a ridiculous thought, even if it can’t happen, can never happen.
His blue eyes are zoned in on me intensely right now.
I glance up just as I’m making a move to return to the outer office, and he’s watching me over Mr. Smith’s shoulder. Color rises to my cheeks. Did he see me shivering? Can he read my thoughts, even now?
I incline my head, just a fraction of an inch, then turn and make my way back to my desk, sitting down in my seat like my skin isn’t on fire for him, like my heart isn’t still hammering away in my chest.
You know just what I want.
That’s what the Senator thinks of me—that I know what he wants. But even if I had a chance with him…would he be right? I bite my lip and look down at my desk calendar, the letters and numbers meaningless. I might not know what the Senator really wants. A man like him—powerful, older, more experienced…he probably wants…
My next breath is nearly a gasp, and I stifle it with one hand, quickly looking toward the door to make sure that nobody’s about to come in, that nobody saw me.
The Senator is older, more experienced. He’s probably been with other women who know so much more than I do. There have never been rumors of untoward behavior—he ran his campaign squeaky clean and still acts that way as a public figure—but a man like the Senator doesn’t sleep alone for years on end. He’s had years to discover what he really wants, even if the press hasn’t had a whiff of it.
And those desires—they have to be the desires of a powerful man. Desires I’ve never dreamed of taking as my own, until now, like…
An image of me bent over his desk, my skirt jacked up around my hips, his hand pressing down on my lower back, pinning me in place, hits me like a tidal wave.
Between my legs, my pussy gets hotter and wetter.
It’s not the kind of thing I’ve ever imagined with any other man. Not even a little bit. But with the Senator…he ignites a fire inside me that I can’t ignore, that I can’t put out.
I shake my head firmly.
No. It’s not going to happen.
It’s not. It can’t.
Chapter 6
Senator Sterling
The little shiver that goes through Marci’s body stays with me all day. When I come out of the meeting with Mr. Smith, her cheeks are s
till flushed pink, but her attitude is brisk and professional.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Smith. It was so nice to meet you.” She tells him this so sincerely that I almost believe it, even after the phone call she took from his wife earlier this morning.
The old man looks back at Marci with a gleam in his eye. He may have started off all fury and hellfire when he got up this morning, but somewhere between the waiting area and my desk, he came into contact with something that mellowed him out significantly. Something…or someone.
Marci…
He clears his throat. “You’ve got a good one here, Senator.” Then he turns and follows Marci to the door, his footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
I’m still standing in the threshold of my office when she returns to her desk, and she’s halfway across the small waiting area when she lifts her eyes from where they’ve been focused on the floor, and they lock on mine. Her breasts rise—a little breath that she takes in silently—and I see it in her eyes. I see the words I said earlier echoing there.
Behind her, a petite woman with a riot of red hair bustles in, folders in hand. “Good morning!” Her voice is as bright as her grin, and Marci startles like we’ve been caught doing something illicit, even though we’re just standing here, looking at each other, and it’s just one single moment.
I can’t move at all, because if I do, it will only highlight the fact that my cock is making a tent out of my pants. Marci turns to address the interruption.
“Kathy, thanks.” She steps up to her and takes the folders from her hands, and Kathy’s sunbeam grin focuses on Marci’s face. I can finally turn away and go back to my desk.
This is torture of the worst kind.
I might have to fire her.
The thought is so abhorrent that I push it away the instant it comes into my mind. I can’t fire Marci just because she’s young and beautiful and looks at me with those eyes, with an expression that’s a little bit awe and a little bit dirty somehow, even as she radiates an innocent professionalism that intoxicates me, one that keeps me up at night.
