Politics Ch. 04

Still, the unspoken threat left her cold. It was so unfair. "Of course I understand that, Brian," she calmly answered, gracefully climbing from the couch and heading for the office door. She stopped for a moment, unable to stop herself. "But please remember, Brian,youputmein this position.You'rethe one who's mademevulnerable. I didn't ask for this."

She pulled the door closed behind her before he could respond.

***

Rebecca screamed at him.Leave me alone, you bastard!!!

But it was a silent scream. Shock and disgust overwhelmed her. Shock at the way the Dutchman was blatantly taking advantage of her, and disgust with herself that she was allowing him to.

Under normal circumstances, she would never succumb to this sort of blackmail. But... but... the aerobics studio was her dream, and this was probably her only opportunity of achieving it. Don't blow it!

That wasn't the only factor right now. Somehow, the knowledge that she was being coerced was a turn on, too. Being taken against her will had been a fantasy for some time. Plus, he'd found her weakness.

Her breasts!

His hands were cupping them, feeling their shape, caressing with just the right degree of pressure to increase her arousal. He took each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling just the way she liked. Pleasure flooded from her tits to her sex, tiny electrical currents of unadulterated gratification.

"Guus! No! You have to stop," she groaned as she slipped her hands over his. Her rapid, shallow breathing made the words sound like a moan.

She knew she couldn't trust this man. The bastard was supposed to hold her boyfriend in high regard, yet his desire for her overruled any such consideration. What sort of man was he?

"Stop, Guus," she whimpered again, but they both knew she was losing the battle. Her hands piggybacked on his. Other than her words, she made no attempt to stop him. Instead, she arched her back and pushed her full swells into his hands. His thumbs flicked her aching nipples.

Rebecca's fingers tightened on his. But rather than wrench them away, she dug them into her engorged flesh, the surge of warmth centring directly between her thighs growing further. She told herself that if this was necessary to achieve her dream, then she should go with it. But she was also only too well aware that her weakness for breast play was starting to overwhelm her.

Her legs edged apart as her wetness grew. Her hands left his and slid under her short dress. She was desperate to find relief. Behind her, his hardness pushed into the back of her head. He was as aroused as she.

Her rapid breathing gave the game away. She knew that. So did the way she thrust her breasts forward. His hands were kneading them now, digging into them, rotating them, and mashing them. Her arousal was burning through her and the bastard could smell it.

He timed his rough kneading of her breasts in line with her throaty growls.

The topless beauty couldn't help herself. Her legs widened. The balls of her feet dug into the floor. Her fingers slithered onto and then underneath her thong. An unstoppable fire coursed through her body. This was wrong, this was lewd, and this was unforgivable. She didn't care.

With a throaty growl, she attacked her swollen clit.

Within seconds, the combination of both sets of hands had achieved their objective. Her hips jerked as she cried out. Her body bent forward as the spasms racked through her.

Kessen continued to knead her tits. Her nipples burned into his palms. Her legs widened further as she continued to buck on her working fingers and somehow, a second explosive orgasm followed the first.

The Dutchman took advantage. He slipped around in front of her. As she recovered, he took her hand and placed it on his cloth-covered cock. Rebecca cupped him through his slacks. The warm, heavy weight of his erection felt so good in her palm. Another tremor of arousal fed itself through her. The feeling intensified when he let out a groan of pleasure.

Despite his size and weight, she loved the way his heavy hips arched towards her in eager response. Kessen dropped his hand to grip her hair. Rebecca grunted. He pulled her face up so that he could stare into her eyes. Loving his roughness, another surge of lust washed through her.

His hand slid to his zipper, roughly tugging it down. He pulled out his hard cock. She wanted it. Wanted it in her mouth, and then wanted the bastard to fuck her. Fill her, take away the ache in her pussy. He was much bigger than she expected, and fully erect. Bigger than Thomas...

Thomas! Thomas?!?

She panicked at thought of her boyfriend. She couldn't do this! Not even for her dream! Somehow, she pulled herself away, stumbling to her feet and dragging the dress up and over her exposed breasts.

"No," she gasped, though it took a real effort to deny herself. "No, Guus," she repeated, backing away to the door. "I can't!"

***

Katie glanced around Alistair's impressive living room from her comfortable position on the sofa. It had taken her some time to find his period house, located just off Cadogan Square. The inside was every bit as impressive as the exterior. Everything from the antique furniture, the art collection adorning the walls, the well-stocked bookshelves and the impressive Victorian marble fireplace spoke of money.

Money and taste.

"You seem impressed," the politician observed. He was much more relaxed than on his visit to her office, sprawling back in one of the mahogany armchairs, one arm hooked over the back. His enthusiastic and warm smile told her he was pleased she was there. He was happy to see her again.

"You've had a busy day," she told him, ignoring his subliminal request for a compliment on the decor. "I watched some of the debate..."

"And?"

"You were very good," she told him. "But then, you knew that already."

His confident laugh reinforced just how comfortable he was feeling. It made her feel comfortable, too. If she forgot the reason she was here for a moment, she could imagine being there as his lover, enjoying some easy conversation before a bout of lovemaking. The thought sent a shiver through her.

"Yes, it went well," he modestly told her. "But I cut the visit short because I wanted to get back here to see you."

"For our second session," she confirmed.

"Yes," he slowly answered, drawing out the word. "But mainly to see you."

Katie's glance covered his body. With his hands holding the front of the chair arms, legs splayed wide, that's how he'd be sitting if she were on her knees between his legs. Fuck! Where did that thought come from?

"Are you flirting with me, Alistair," she asked, her tone suggesting that the idea was appealing enough.

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting upright as if he'd just been caught out. At that moment, his expression made him appear like a bashful schoolboy. "I don't know. I was just being truthful."

"Well, I'm pleased to see you, too, Alistair," she found herself saying, the banality of her words occurring to her. They were mature people, not love struck teenagers. Why did she feel so nervous?

"Good," he softly responded, the unspoken words between them much more telling than their actual conversation. They both wanted to get closer to the other, but for different reasons knew they shouldn't. "And... I wanted to thank you for yesterday, Katie. It was a real relief talking to you. Somehow helped me get things in perspective. It's made a big difference."

"Well, I'm happy about that," she told him, his words reminding her of the reason for her visit. "This session should give us a real feel for whether I can actually help."

Brinkley-Jones nodded. "You can, I'm sure..."

Her gaze covered his face, attempting to read his mind. Was he flirting again, or was he serious? Let's find out. "Alistair, the slow progress yesterday was understandable, but I need you to be completely open with me. If not, let's call it a day now. We can't make progress otherwise."

He grimaced. "I understand. But this still feels strange, Katie. Maybe you could ask me some specific questions to start with? Help me open the door?"

The dark haired woman nodded thoughtfully. There was one question that had been lingering on her mind. And not just from a professional perspective. "Your girlfriend," she asked. "Tell me about her."

"Tell you what?"

What she's like in bed? How often you fuck? Which positions do the two of you prefer? Does she give good head? FUCK! She had to get rid of those thoughts!

She settled for something less provocative. Something to get him talking. "How long have you been together?"

"A year or so," he responded, his thoughts flowing over the happenings of those twelve months with the speed of a fighter jet. His eyes caught Katie's intense gaze. "She's the sexiest, most beautiful woman I've ever met," he continued. "At least, until I walked into your office..."

Katie felt her throat grow instantly dry. "You're flirting again," she scolded, leaning forward to take a drink from the glass of iced water beside her. She crossed her legs, as if that would disguise the growing moistness between her pale thighs.

Alistair pulled a face. "Possibly. But you said to be open. And truthful."

"So marriage is in the cards?" she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the tide of arousal surging through her body. A straight bat was the best way of dealing with the situation. She was his psychiatrist, for God's sake.

But why ask that particular question?

He laughed, a loud, wistful laugh. "No, marriage is not in the cards," he firmly said, leaning forward in his chair. "Erika is... is great fun, but she's not in love with me. She's in love with what I am, not who I am."

"And you?" Katie asked, wanting to complete the circle. She could feel her heart rate increase with each answer. "Are you in love with her?"

This time his laugh was full of cynicism. "Hell, no, Katie. Erika's taken me to a new world. It's an exciting world, especially for someone with my upbringing. I have to confess I've been a willing traveller. But it's not a place for the Conservative Party leader. Or the next Prime Minister."

"So..." she thoughtfully continued, "it's your position that make you want to relinquish the 'world'? Or a belief that it's not for you?"

The previously confident man exhaled a long sigh. His shoulders slumped. His eyes traced the pattern in the carpet. It was a good minute before he raised them to meet her gaze again. "I don't know."

Katie smiled at her confused patient. A smile that was meant to be comforting, tell him she was on his side. They were making good progress, and it was important to keep pressing. "Yesterday, you described yourself as a sex addict..."

"That's how I feel," he answered, slumping back in his chair. He sounded deflated.

"With your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Lot's of people have fantastic sex with their partners," she told him, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Unfortunately, it had been some time since she fitted into that category.

"Oh, I see," he said as realisation dawned. "Not just with my girlfriend."

"I see," Katie breathed softly. "So, Erika doesn't know of the other women, and you're worried—"

His shrill laugh stopped her in her tracks. "You know, Katie, up to this point I thought you were ahead of the game. But you've taken a wrong turn. I donothingwithout my girlfriend knowing. She sets up the sex. Threesomes. We fuck women. Together."

The words made Katie's blood run cold. But they excited her, too. More than she thought possible.

"That's the problem, you see?" he went on before she could respond, his voice rising. "Erika introduced me to the pleasures of the flesh. She's brought out sexual desires I didn't know I had. She's turned my life upside down. And if the media catches on, I'm finished."

Her breath caught in her throat. There it was again. The million-dollar question! "So... it's not that you want to give it up. It's that you're worried about the consequences if the media find out?"

"This is where we were some time ago," he answered, crossing one leg over the other and throwing his hands behind his head. "I've told you, Katie. I don't know."

The beautiful woman shook her head. "I think you do."

***

"We've got to think this through," Thomas told Sally, sipping from one of the glasses of wine she'd poured in the bar of their Malmaison Belfast hotel.

"Good?" she asked, knowing that he rarely consumed alcohol. But the allegation that they'd just been hit with seemed to call for something more than a soft drink. "It's my favourite."

He licked his lips. "Not bad. What is it again?"

"Cloudy Bay. Maybe not one for the connoisseurs but it suits my palate perfectly. Maybe a couple of glasses will help?"

Thomas nodded. He certainly needed something to clear his mind, stop the muddled thoughts that ran around the inside of his head and collided with one another.

"Mind you," she said with a laugh, dropping her hand from his arm to his thigh. "If it doesn't, I can think of much better ways."

He almost choked on the drink, spitting some onto the round glass table in front of them. "Does Jeremy know you're such a tease," he asked with a grin.

"Oh, Jeremy knows what I'm like," she responded. "It's what makes the world go round. Besides, don't pretend you haven't."

"Haven't?"

"Haven't imagined us fucking," she calmly told him, her fingers running up his thigh and settling dangerously close to the cock that was now making its presence felt.

"Sally!"

"All men do it," she said with that child like laugh of hers. Only it didn't quite sound so child like anymore. "Think of sex every six seconds or so. That's what they say, isn't it?"

"Sally..."

"Oh, come on, confess." She moved closer, pushing her perky left breast into his arm. "Tell me, what position have you imagined us in?"

"Sally!" he said, raising his voice as he picked up her hand from his thigh and placed it in her lap. "Sounds to me like you're the one who's had too much to drink."

"Maybe," she murmured. "That Chianti was superb, I have to admit. But don't change the subject. You're my hero after all. You never know, you might get lucky! Am I on top? Or do you prefer doggie?"

"Geez, Sally..."

"I know," she smiled, her eyes twinkling at his discomfort. "You want my ass!"

"It's not your ass I'm worried about," he said, waving a hand to call the waitress over and this time ordering an orange juice. "It's Alistair's."

The diminutive redhead settled back in her seat, accepting that playtime was over, for the moment at least. "Okay, okay, but I think we should tell Erika."

Thomas shook his head. It wasn't that he wanted to hold anything back, more that instinct and experience suggested he seek more facts before he disclosed the problem to either Alistair or his girlfriend.

"Why?" Sally asked.

"Because if it's true, and they hold out on us, I want to be ahead of the game. If it's nonsense, why worry them immediately."

He paused while the waitress brought their drinks.

"I can see your eyes on her ass," Sally whispered as the young Irish server returned to her station. "You must be hot for it."

Thomas pulled a face and shook his head. His look told her he wasn't playing that game anymore, although hehadbeen looking. "Listen, Sally, I want to think it through first. How about this? I'll have another conversation with Murphy, try and glean more detail. You check out whether Alistair was in Belfast eight months ago. When we have that information, we'll talk it through and decide on the next steps. Okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said thoughtfully, refilling her glass from the green bottle. "There'll be no chance to do that tonight, though, will there? God knows how long these two functions will last."

"Another late night," Thomas agreed, sighing softly. He'd somehow have to find time to call Becky, too. He should have done that immediately after they'd left the hall. If everything had gone as expected, his girlfriend would have secured the financial backing to make her dream a reality.

"You think it might be true?" Sally asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He shrugged his shoulders. "From what you've told me about their lifestyle, there's every chance itcouldbe true, don't you think? If we don't sort this, we're fucked. The campaign is fucked. Alistair is fucked. But I don't want tojustask them. I want to know as much as I can before I do that. Form my own opinions. Then we'll hear what they have to say."

"Isn't that kind of disloyal?"

"No, Sally," he sighed, swallowing his juice. "It means I'm doing my job to the best of my ability. But it also means I'm not going to be jerked around. We need the truth. You with me on this or not?"

"Of course," she said, giving him a why-would-you-doubt-me look.

"Good! Look, we have a mid morning flight back tomorrow. Let's both make sure we do our work before then!"

Sally pulled a face. "With everything we have on tonight? You don't ask much!"

Thomas glanced at her alarmed face. "I know, I know. But it's essential we have as much as we can before we speak to Erika and Alistair. This is fucking serious, Sally. The timescale's are out of our control."

"I understand," she answered, nudging closer to him again. "But just tell me one thing."

"Anything," he said, reaching for his wallet. They were running out of time before the first of their two press functions.

She batted her eyelashes. "It is doggie style you want to fuck me, isn't it?"

***

"Aren't we splitting hairs?" Alistair asked his beautiful psychiatrist. "Whatever the reason, the point is that I need to do something about this before its too late."

Katie shook her head. "No, we're not splitting hairs. If it's the lifestyle per se you were rebelling against, then it would be simpler for you to give up the obsession. Being addicted to it makes it a different ballgame."

The troubled politician stared at her, a haunted look in his eyes. He knew it and she knew it. They'd reached the crossroads.

Katie was only too well aware she'd be unable to help much further. At the fringes, perhaps, but that was all. Maybe if she was a sex therapist? But this was outside of her normal remit.

"Look, Alistair," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I deal with people who suffer from genuine psychiatric illnesses. Things like depression, schizophrenia. Clearly, you don't fit into those categories. I don't have the expertise in this area..."

"I need you, Katie," he answered, cutting off her argument. "In fact, right now, I'd say you were the only chance I have of getting out of this mess. Please help me."

She looked at him and saw the agony on his face. The little child inside the man shone through like a beacon on a dark night. It melted her heart. But who was she to try and offer a solution? When the slut inside her drove her to find strangers and suck their cocks. She had an addiction, too. If she couldn't cure herself, how could she help him?

"What is it about the sex that you enjoy so much," she fond herself asking. It wasn't a professional question, it was curiosity.

He was good looking, charming, humorous, wicked and very bright. It was a heady cocktail of all the characteristics she found so attractive. There was no doubt that the instant chemistry they'd experienced had grown further the longer they spent in one another's company.

Katie realised what was happening and was helpless to do anything about it. She watched the way he looked at her and it excited her further. With every flicker of his eyes across her full breasts, her nipples rose and her body grew hotter. She tried to resist the implications of his gaze, and the undoubted thoughts that accompanied them.