First Lady of Maine

Leslie Marie Blaine winced with pain with each step she took upon the marbled tiled floor that led from the visors center towards the anti-infection unit of the Maine Burn Center. As the First Lady of Maine, Leslie had already spent two hours touring the rest of the facility, and being a photo opportunity, several television crews were on tour with the group, snapping pictures and taking shots of her holding bandaged children and watching nurses' clean wounds. Those pictures conveyed the motherly side of Leslie; the dutiful wife of a politician who was dressed in a checkered brown dress that could be worn to any church function and be considered appropriate, while her matching beige pantyhose and black high heels clicked loudly with each step upon the tiled floor. It was the latter that was giving her pain, for the instep of her high heels were a bit to tight and the two hour tour was pushing her toes unmercifully forward into the pointed tip of her shoe. With each step her feet began to hurt more and more until the Director of the Maine Children's Burn Center stopped short of a double set of doors.

"We are about to enter hell. This area of the center is officially called the anti-infection room, but everyone calls it the vat room. Everyday the children are brought down here and soaked into these big vats. The vats are filled with chemicals that strip away the burned skin and keep infection down. While it is something that has to be done, it is excoriating pain for the children."

Even through the double set of doors that were well sealed, Leslie could here the faint cries of children screaming and crying. That horrific sound only intensified as the tour group slipped through the doors and heard a dozen children or varying ages all screaming out in pain. One little child, an African-American kid, gripped his mother's hand as a nurse was beginning to strip off his diaper and bandages in preparation for his soak into the vat of chemicals.

"No mommy, no. Please no. Please don't let them put me in there..."

It was all Leslie could do to keep from running from the vat room. Tears streamed down her eyes as she noticed the children's pain, the look in their eyes, and their god-awful screams. Leslie was not alone. Even the photographers and the nurses were not immune to the pain, carnage and screams that invaded every sense of humanity and compassion. When the tour concluded in the atrium, there was not a dry eye in the group.

"It's truly horrific isn't it? The sad part is, we need to add on. We cannot keep up with the number of children being burned in this state Mrs. Blaine. We would like to do something unheard of for a business and that is start an educational program that is so effective; we have to go out of business. Unfortunately we need government involvement. I hope this tour was enlightening, and that you have seen first hand what we are trying to accomplish. Anything you can do to help us would be greatly appreciated."

"You have my unparalleled support," Leslie said quietly, never in her life being so drained from such a tour. The pathetic look on the children's faces had conveyed so much pain, so much anguish, that no woman with a conscience could help but support such a lofty effort. Sitting behind an oak conference table, Leslie nonchalantly crossed her legs, not believing that twenty minutes ago she was lamenting to her aide that her shoes were too tight. Such discomfort paled in comparison to what those children endured, and it made Leslie ashamed to no end. As Leslie dangled her shoe off her toe, Andrea Houser continued her pitch at funding the centers new educational activities.

"We do have a fund raiser coming up next week. A motorcycle ride in, but unfortunately it lands on Laconia's Bike Week. I'm afraid we aren't going to get the publicity to bring in the donations that we really need. Perhaps your presence there will generate a bit more interest?"

"Whatever you need, in whatever you wish, you just let me know. You, your nurses and this center have my undivided support," Leslie said, but it still seemed weak despite her sincerest support.

______

As Leslie lay next to her husband on the bed, thoughts of the burned children screaming as their wounds were recovered screeched through Leslie's mind. Sex was the last thing she really wanted, but she gave no indication of that as she felt him position the tip of his cock on her shaven pussy lips. He was the most powerful man in the State of Maine and while he could have just about any lady he wanted, the fact that he still wanted her after all these years of marriage, meant Leslie let him have all he wanted, even if she was not really in the mood.

She felt the Governor use his manhood to open and explore her, the tip just dipping inside, sliding into her wetness that had slowly been growing. Just knowing he still wanted her, turned her on; so did taking his shaft, especially one inch at a time, which was what he was doing now. He gave her another inch and then rode her like that, just the tip, in and out.

Leslie protested as she wanted it all. She wanted him to slam into her to the hilt, molding her skin to fit his hands, her sex to fit his shaft tightly. Her sex contracted on the head of his manhood, trying to pull her powerful husband deeper inside her, and finally he took pity on her and gave her more. She loved being filled by him, the warmth that spread throughout her body the complete loss of control. She was overwhelmed by his size, his massive hands around her slender waist, his hard thighs supporting her, pressing into her even. She arched up further to him, offering him more of her, all of her and he took it.

Then he began driving the full, hard length of his shaft into her, letting his balls slap against her, spanking her with them, easing off and then thrusting forward again. His hips snapped against her, forcing her into his rhythm, a rhythm Leslie loved. She dug her nails into the mattress for support and thrust back against him, moving with him, loving the speed and exhilaration of it. Her heart was also racing, her heart pounding even, and her breath was ragged.

She squeezed as hard as she could, loving the ache building within her. The walls of her vagina opened and closed on him like a fist. He lifted her up off the mattress feeling the memory foam shift under his weight as he began moving her body up and down on his cock. Leslie felt so small in his grip, like a lobbyist who was feeling the wrath of the governor, a tender roughness that only her husband could bring. She melted into his embrace as he kissed the curve of her neck, his tongue licking along the ridge of her shoulder, his teeth searching for purchase as he finally came.

Leslie felt it jettison inside of her, a warm, sticky sensation that filled up her womb and made her swoon with enjoyment even though he had not yet reached her own peak. As she lay there, he was still moving inside her, though it was more of a twitch than full thrusts as he tried to release every drop he had inside him. It spilled into her in a slight ooze even as he began to soften within her, her legs still wrapped around him dutifully.

_______

The sudden scream ripped through the Governor's mansion and echoed down every hallway. Instantly Leslie was awake and looking at her husband, unaware that it was her own voice that had made the shrill cry.

Leslie Honey, are you okay," her husband asked, his heart racing as fast as Leslie's from the scream she had just emitted. "You're shaking violently and covered with sweat. What's the matter?"

"It must have been a nightmare. I was dreaming I was at the burn center and they were dunking me into a vat of chemicals to keep the infection down. Oh God Hon it was awful. I was scared, I was in pain..."

"That place really got to you didn't it," he asked with true compassion? Leslie could only nod her head. There was no reason to answer really. Her screaming fit, her profuse sweating and her shaking hands all proved that.

"I just need a drink," Leslie said quietly. "Why don't you go back to sleep while I go down stairs and get a glass of milk."

Giving him a kiss on the cheek, Leslie watched her husband snuggle up next to the sheets and drift off to sleep again, no doubt their love-making a few hours before helping in the regard. Leslie was reminded of that by her nakedness and slipped on a bathrobe before padding quietly down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Leslie tried in vain to get the screams of the burned children out of her mind as she made the walk. At the same time, she tried to free herself of the horrific sight of the scars, wounds and infections they were subjected to. She was thinking of the educational program Andrea spoke of and the impact it could have on keeping other children from enduring what these children endured day after day. She was thinking of this when she slipped past the big cheval mirror located at the center of the hallway. As she passed by it, Leslie suddenly stopped at the sight of her own image. For a second she studied herself, her sleep-deprived body clad only in a terry cloth with robe. Pulling the robe back from her neck, Leslie gave the robe a push off her shoulders and watched it fall quickly to the floor in a puddle of white. All that remained was her own naked body, then she smiled at her ingenious thought and began to walk briskly towards the kitchen.

In a whirl of activity, Leslie ignored the milk and put on a pot of coffee. At the same time she picked up a note pad and pen and picked up the phone. She cared little that it was three AM or that she was blatantly abusing her power as the first woman of Maine. She first called the operator, used her position to obtain Andrea's home phone number and dialed despite the hour.

"Andrea this is Leslie Blaine, the First Lady of Maine. I know its kind of early, but I was just hit with inspiration. I know how I can help you with your fund raiser for the children's burn center. I am going to do the motorcycle ride...but with a twist, I am going to do it naked," she said letting her idea sink in for a second.

"What," Andrea asked completely shocked, the statement instantly propelling her to a state of full alertness.

"Exactly Andrea. If I show up with my usual attire no one is even going to pay attention. But if we make it known I am going to do the entire ride naked, every news group, media company and newspaper will be covering the story. That will give your burn center some serious media coverage."

"Well yes Mrs. Blaine I concur, but you would have to go through with what you said though. Are you sure you can stand the public ridicule, the endless jokes on late night television...the political fallout?"

"For the children I will."

"You will do no such thing," the Governor yelled when he had overheard Leslie talking on the phone.

"You have no say in this John. I was asked to help these children and I will. You were not there, you did not hear their screams, see their wounds or see the tears on the nurses faces as they tried to help these kids."

"I will not have my wife gallivanting through the roads of Maine naked on a motorcycle Leslie. No way, not for a burn center or any other charitable cause...."

"Why because you're afraid you won't get re-elected in two years? Well you won't get re-elected if your going through divorce either John. I have never asked for anything, never done one thing to compromise your precious political agenda, but its time the First lady of Maine does something good for the children of Maine. If it means taking off my clothes to do it, then I will. Your god-damn election be damned John." With fire in her voice, Leslie turned back to the phone. "Andrea, make the calls, make it happen. I'm doing this."

_______

Life in the Governor's Mansion was not exactly marital bliss as Leslie steamed forward with her plans to generate publicity for the motorcycle charity ride for the children's burn center. The Governor and First Lady of Maine slept in separate beds and would often have dinner together and yet not say a single word to one another. This animosity would have angered Leslie more if she had not been so busy doing interviews, joining radio and television talk shows and planning for what would be the most humiliating day of her life.

Despite the lack of sleep and her looming marital problems, Leslie was able to maintain her sense of humor. Everywhere she went she had to laugh off the jokes, the sexual innuendos and even the negative comments streaming from her husband's political opposition. At the latter issue, Leslie felt guilty that her husband's chances of re-election were being compromised by her publicity ploy, but her conviction was so strong, Leslie knew she had to go through with what she proposed despite the costs.

Thankfully Andrea Houser was becoming a true friend. Everywhere Leslie went, Andrea was beside her, supporting her and answering questions about the burn center and their proposed educational program. Andrea was even present as the day of the motorcycle ride approached.

"You look a little pale Leslie, are sure you are okay with this," she asked as the two sat in a classroom inside the Cony high school where the motorcycle ride was to start from?

"Not really, but I'll do it".

"Well if it means anything to you, there are hundreds of motorcycles out there. There has been a huge outpouring of support; for you, the center and what you are doing for it. We would not have had a dozen riders if it had not been for you Leslie. Don't think the center does not appreciate that."

"I can't believe hundreds of people would come out just to see me display this fifty year old body. You would think they would rather stay home and see something a bit more impressive."

"Don't let that bother you. They are here to support what you stand for, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are a very, very beautiful woman Leslie," Andrea said slowly, then surprisingly pushed her head forward, tipping her slightly to deliver a kiss on Leslie's lips.

The first Lady of Maine watched in silence as the woman tilted her head towards her, but was expecting her to whisper something to her, or at the most, give her an understanding peck upon her cheek. Instead her lips landed squarely upon hers, open and embracing. When her tongue probed, Leslie parted her lips, and allowed the woman the pleasure of swirling her tongue about her mouth, lashing her teeth with it until Leslie returned the passion with her own sweet tongue. The kiss had lasted for a full ten seconds, and now that the other woman had broken it, she was waiting for Leslie's reaction.

Leslie's mind reeled as the woman pulled her mouth away from hers, the woman now searching Jennifer for an expression... any expression, to prove whether the kiss they just shared had been consensual.

"I'm...I'm a married woman Andrea."

"I know, but there is something special about another woman...a woman's touch...a woman's kiss.." the lady said, and gripping her hands in the manner that she did, Leslie felt secure as the leather couch that was pressing around her round bottom. Still searching her soul for a reason why she felt the way she did, Andrea did not let Leslie dwell to long on her soul searching before she tilted her head and moved in for a second kiss.

Leslie leaned towards Andrea, her hands going around her back, pulling her closer in an unmistakable display of consent. Andrea's lips did not waste precious time and quickly found the first lady's; her probing tongue helping the woman feel comfortable in what she was about to do. Leslie's lips parted in turn, quicker and more open than they had the first time, as she accepted the wave of passion that now overwhelmed her.

"No", Leslie cried when Cynthia broke the ten second kiss, her lips trailing off hers to draw a path down her chin, over her neck where it paused to suck, to nibble, to tease...

"Yes," Cynthia said in response, for she knew Jennifer was not referring to disgust over their steamy moment of passion, but from the retreat of her tongue from deep within her mouth. "That was to encourage you Leslie. Now its time...it's time to walk out there and do what everyone is waiting for."

Leslie slowly nodded. She could hear the motorcycles gathering outside, their loud exhausts and rumbling motors turning the quiet Augusta streets into a North-Eastern Sturbridge. Leslie quickly reapplied some lipstick to her lips, straightened her sundress and made the long walk from the empty classroom, down the hallway and out to the podium that was set-up by the flag pole of the school. With her commanding view from the granite steps, Leslie could see the results of her decision to publicize the fund raiser.

Everywhere and in every direction motorcycles lined the streets. Police cars milled around, keeping the reporters, spectators and motorcyclists at bay as hundreds of cameras flashed and news crews' video taped the unusual proceedings. Leslie took a deep breath, surveyed the vast scene and then tried to conceal her fear with a voice that was strong and true. A few words into her speech she found her strength and spoke with conviction.

"Some say that what I am about to do is not becoming of a first lady. In fact one headline called me the First Stripper of Maine. Now while that is laughable, there is no question what I am about to do is embarrassing. I'm fifty years old for goodness sakes, I have no right to show anyone anything at this age," she said with a slight laugh. She paused a second as the crowd let out a collective chuckle at her humorous take at her own aged body.

"I have been asked if my stunt here today amounts to nothing more than a publicity stunt. My answer to that is a resounding you're damn right it is, because as embarrassing as it is to stand here and strip completely naked and ride for a hundred miles on the back of a motorcycle, what I am about to do is nothing...nothing...compared to what those children must go through."

"Every day they are stripped naked and put into a chemical bath that eats their burned, charred and dying skin off their body. You cannot imagine the pain of what that feels like. In fact you have to go there and hear the screams, hear the cries, here them begging not to be put into those vat's to realize that what I am doing here is nothing. It is not painful, it's not going to eat my skin off or keep me alive; it's merely embarrassing."

"But today the people of Maine have an equally hard task. That task is to write checks. Not for me, not for what I am doing, but for an educational fund that will keep kids....Maine kids...from getting burned in the first place. Did you know 80 percent of the children in that burn center would not be hurt if a few precautions were taken in the home? We need to educate parents on those precautions and ensure Maine children stop getting burned needlessly. That is the goal...to be able to shut down the Maine Children's Burn Center because there are no patients to admit. To do that we need money for education and that is the hardest part. To write a check bigger than what you intended. Honestly, that is truly going to be the hardest job in this charity event. Not riding a motorcycle for a hundred miles, not organizing this event, hell not even taking off every stitch of clothes so everyone in the nation can see me naked. No the hardest job today is writing a check for the Maine Children's Burn Center for a bigger amount than what you intended," Leslie paused a second at this point in her speech to let her point sink home. As the crowd fell silent, Leslie started again.

"In six hours my naked image will be posted in every news story in this country. It will be on television, in the newspapers and on the internet. I humbly ask that the people of Maine make this publicity stunt worth every minute of it."