Mr. President

“Guess,” I respond in a calm and poised voice, and the door swings open as if someone yanked on the doorknob from the other side. Lester is standing in the doorway, barefoot and wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. “Hi there, handsome,” I purr with a smile, and walk past him and inside his house. I smile inwardly at the look of confusion on his face, but then I hear the door slam shut and I remember what’s at stake here.

“Destiny,” he simply says, his lips a straight line.

“Oh, you remember me,” I tease him, walking straight into his living room and sit down on the couch where he was just watching a game. There’s an open beer sitting on the coffee table, and the Giants are preparing their next play on the flat-screen TV. I lean back against his couch, crossing my legs and allowing the hemline of my tight dress to climb up and reveal more of my legs. At the same time, I take my jacket off, revealing the low cut of my dress, Lester’s eyes darting straight to my cleavage. “Lovely place you have here.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Destiny,” he hisses, walking around the couch and staring me down. “What are you doing here?” I sigh and look down at my hands, trying to organize the right words into a coherent sentence. Then, I look up at him and let my smile fade away.

“I’m sorry, Lester,” I start, putting on an expression of commiseration. “I was an idiot.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks me, a confused frown on his face.

“I… I let myself be fooled by Austin,” I stammer, pursing my lips and trying to look like a damsel in distress. “He sweet talked me and he… I was a fool, Lester. All these months I had the perfect man right in front of me, but I guess I never realized it before,” I continue, my heart galloping inside my chest. This has to work, I pray to myself, this has to work.

Slowly, Lester walks up to me and sits by my side, placing one hand right on my knee. “You came to your senses, then?” he asks me, that awful grin dancing on his lips. After what he did to me—and after I discovered who he really is—I can’t help but feel disgust every time I glance at him. He shouldn’t even be in jail, he should be hanged. You think that’s harsh of me? Well, just remember who he really is; Lester, someone who profits from human fucking trafficking. From selling women. Scum of the Earth.

“I did come to my senses, yes,” I tell him, running my tongue between my lips and looking into his eyes. I place my hand on top of his and squeeze it lightly. “I don’t even care about the club anymore, Lester… I don’t know, when I realized what you can do, the power you hold… I want someone like that in my life. A real man, a powerful man… Someone like you,” I whisper, lowering my voice as I stroke his ego.

He grins at me, his hand slowly moving up from my knee to my leg. I got him, I think as I take in the delighted expression on his face. Since the first time I saw Lester, I knew he had a thing for me. Call it lust, passion or even a twisted sense of love, but I knew he wanted me. He wanted me bad, and still does. It drove him mad that, even though he got to fuck me, I never gave him more than that. He knew that I just tolerated him, and that made him seethe with rage; he isn’t a man accustomed to not getting what he wants. But now here I am, sitting on his couch, telling him everything that he ever wanted to hear, calling him a powerful and real man.

I uncross my legs and part them slightly, and Lester starts to breath harder, lust taking over him. From the corner of my eyes, I see a hard shape straining against his jeans, his cock stiffening as he slides his hand under my dress. I put one hand on his shoulder, and then lean my head against it; I place my other hand on his chest, gently massaging him.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for days,” I purr into his ear, and I can feel his whole body relaxing.

“Then why didn’t you come here before?” he asks dryly, but still keeping his hand on my leg.

“I was afraid you’d be mad… I was afraid you wouldn’t want me,” I whisper, grabbing his free hand and taking it to my rig

ht breast. He lays it there and curls his fingers, squeezing my flesh softly.

“I want you, you know I do,” he tells me, his words fraught with lustful tension.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” I smile, my hand still on top of his. I press down, making him squeeze my breast harder. He does it willingly, now breathing so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if he just came in his jeans. Moving slowly, my movements patient and deliberate, I reach for the straps of my dress on my shoulders and push one down, making it droop over my arm. He reaches for the other strap and pulls it down, the fabric of the dress falling over my chest and revealing the outer edges of my black lace bra. His eyes dart right to it, and he squeezes even harder on my breast.

“I put this on just for you,” I purr again, and place one hand on his knee. He trembles at my touch, and I look into his eyes, lust and desire flickering there. Finally letting go of my breast, he opens his hand and traces the outer edges of my bra with one fingertip, going down the curve of my right breast and then up the curve of the left one. I reach for the straps of my dress, now hanging limply over my arms, and I push them further down, bunching up the upper part of my dress on my waist and baring my bra to him. His eyes become as wide as plates, and I can see the gears turning inside his head as he imagines all the things he’s going to do to me.

With a grin, I stand up suddenly and turn to him; bending over, I place both my hands on his chest and push him back against the couch. He goes with a groan, and then I climb on top of him, straddling him. I press my forehead against his, just one inch between our mouths, and then run my tongue over my upper lip. His lips part slightly, anxious to feel mine, and I take a deep breath and kiss him. I do it for just an instant, and then I pull back, still smiling.

“I want to see your body,” I whisper, my hands slowly moving to the collar of his shirt. I unbutton the first button there, and then my fingers work on the second and the third, baring his chest. I can feel the beating of his heart against my knuckles, and it’s pounding so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a stroke right now.

“You can see everything you want, babe,” he tells me, and I shudder at the way he says babe. That word on his lips seems as wrong as taking an umbrella out with you on a sunny day. But, then again, everything’s wrong about Lester.

“I intend to,” I continue, unbuttoning all of his buttons. I then push his shirt down his arms, and he places his hands on my ass, sliding them under my dress and cupping my ass cheeks. His long fingers brush against the small string of fabric tucked between my cheeks, and I feel his hard cock throbbing under his jeans. Looking into his eyes, I start swaying my hips back and forth, pressing my pussy against the hard shape between his thighs. He sighs loudly, and then groans as the rhythm of my hips grows and grows until I’m rocking my body so fiercely that he closes his eyes, surrendering to the way I move. You know, you’d be surprised at how many guys I drove to an orgasm just by grinding against them. Maybe you think it’s an easy thing to do, but I can assure you it’s not. It takes some skill to drive a man to climax just by dancing over his cock. But when I feel his cock throbbing harshly, I ease my pace; I don’t want him to come just yet. Oh, no, I have a lot in store for him.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks me, disappointment in his voice, as if cumming in his pants was the most natural thing.

“Because, babe,” I place one hand on his cheek, and then slide it up and tangle my fingers in his hair, “I still want to do a lot more.” I bite down on my lower lip, teasing him and driving him completely mad.

“I like that… I like that a lot,” he whispers, and then I yank on his hair and force him to throw his head back. Moving fast, I lean into him and press my mouth against his neck, biting at his skin, probably more harshly than I should, but oh well. He groans louder this time, the pressure of his hands on my ass growing.

“Your cock,” I whisper into his ear, nibbling at his earlobe, “I want it.” I roll to the side, climbing off of him, and then run one hand from his knee up to his crotch. There, I flatten the palm of my hand against his hard shape and press down on it harshly. I can see him gritting his teeth and breathing hard, and I know that he’s at my mercy right now.

I pull out the top button of his jeans, and then run my finger over the patch of skin just above the fabric. “I have a surprise for you, Lester,” I whisper, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “I’m going to make it up to you… I’m going to fix everything.”

“I love surprises,” he tells me, having no idea about what I have planned.

“Then wait here,” I tell him, slowly taking my hands off of his body and going up to my feet. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he responds, but I know that he really won’t be able to sit still for more than a few seconds. But that’s all I need. I wink at him and then, turning on my heels, I walk in a hurried step toward the door of his house. I grab the doorknob and turn it, yanking at the same time.