"Ooooohhh?" I ask, my voice catching as I feel a finger and a tongue now rubbing at my clit. I’m going to cum soon. I can’t stop it. The fires are spreading. I’m starting to go numb in my toes. It’s like this man’s tongue is operated by batteries or something. Oh God, it feels so fucking good. Fuck.
"I have a small problem happening in New York, and since it's your state, I was hoping you could take a look. It looks like Governor Carter, with his environmental legislation that he just passed is running into some trouble," the President says and I have to say I’m barely able to comprehend. My mind is burning with pleasure at the sensations I’m feeling.
"Apparently the mayor of New Kingston, I think his name is Liam Jeffries—and if he sounds familiar it’s because all the papers call him America’s Mayor and he’s the youngest or something at being mayor ever—just got a foreign company to open several factories in the town. Bring back 10,000 or so jobs," the President continues as I thrash my legs in sweet pleasurable agony. "This flies smack in the face of the Governor’s environmental bill and I don’t have to tell you it sets us up for a pretty ugly fight between red states and blue states, Viv."
I’ve slipped past the point of no return and I can feel my body begin to have that delightful seizure as my muscles clench all along my body.
"So if you can go down there and help them negotiate this out, it keeps the Federal government from making a bad situation worse, you know?" he asks me. "Have you ever dealt with either the Governor or the Mayor?"
"Oh yes!" I scream out in pleasure. I feel a fire of pleasure travel across my body and I tighten my legs around Mr. Lobbyist. Momentarily, I forget myself. When I come to, the President is still talking and I’m breathing hard.
Wait, what did I just say yes to?
I’ve never met either man. I’ve been in Washington most of the time. My staff has most likely dealt with and pretended to know and like both men, but personally, I can’t even remember what either looks like.
"Good, so maybe you have a shared place to pick up with them," the President is saying.
"Yes," I say again, a bit more subdued as the post-orgasm endorphins start to sluice through my body.
"Great, I knew I could count on you, Viv. I definitely owe you one, and I’m willing to pay up for whatever you need me to do," the President says. "Thanks and goodbye."
I don’t have a chance to say goodbye, I’m just laying there, enjoying the last of my orgasm before the day starts.
"Is it my turn?" Mr. Lobbyist raises his head, asking me. What a wimp. I can’t believe this man runs his own business. That before he met me, he was supposedly considered a badass by the Washington women who swoon after powerful males.
I swing my legs out over him, and get off the bed. I need to take a shower. And it sounds like I’m going to New York.
"What about me?" the Lobbyist asks, getting out of bed too. I look over his body. His cock may be tiny, but his body was alright. Standard 6-pack abs, maybe could stand to work out a little more—get some more definition.
I head to the shower. Anyone who has to beg me for sex isn’t getting any.
"I need to shower, feel free to show yourself out…babe," I tell him as I turn on the water and then turn to face him. He looks crestfallen. I feel so bad all of a sudden.
"Oh, don’t be sad, babe, it’s okay," I tell him. "It’s not your fault. I just don’t fuck losers in the morning is all."
He nods, and leaves, tail tucked between his legs. Hopefully he rescues some girl from someone or something to get his ego up soon.
As for me, I have a plane to catch.
Vivian
Get in. Tell the Governor that he can’t openly cut down on jobs if he wants to keep his seat next time around. Twist his arm if I have to. Smile nicely and let him know I have a knife behind my back. And then get the hell out. I should be able to make time to catch the midnight shuttle from La Guardia back to Reagan if I stick to this plan.
That’s what I’m telling myself as my limo drives down along Park Avenue past 59th Street as it heads toward the Waldorf.
I hate coming to the city. I don’t mind it so much when I’m here, but every time I fly into either JFK or La Guardia, it seems just a bit more fake. A bit more gentrified. Common people pushed out in favor of the wealthy. International billionaires who come in and buy $2 million dollar apartments just to park their money. But everyone forgets the people who had to get evicted so the old walk-up apartment buildings could get bulldozed for these new gleaming towers.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go back to the days of high crime and a broke, dysfunctional New York City. And I’m not socialist. I’ve made enough money from the system, and my investment portfolio would leave many people green with envy. I’m definitely in the 1%.
But despite all that, sometimes it makes me sad, seeing Manhattan go from the place that brought out the best in America and slowly turn into an upscale shopping mall
for the well-to-do. Not everywhere. And not always. And there’s still a long way to go.
But it just seems like more, every time.
I sigh. I need to get my head out of the clouds. Maybe this is what women worry about when they don’t have kids. Although, I’m only 29. And honestly, getting to be Senator was hard work. I’ve never had a chance to think about kids, and why am I even thinking about kids right now? I mean, look at me, hun. I’m wearing Vera Wang—dressed to kill in a black cocktail dress—heading to a fundraiser with the most powerful people in the country. And I’m wondering about kids? And a gentrifying city?
The car comes to a stop and the chauffeur opens my door and I tell myself I need to just follow the script and I’ll be out of here in an hour to be able to get back onto my plane and back home. Maybe I’ll even invite Mr. Lobbyist with the small dick back to my place. He gives great head.