Aristippus - Marcia's Story

"Marcia," he started out. "I'm going to a meeting in St. Louis next week, and I need you to book the arrangements. Now it's political, so don't use the state card - use my campaign fund card."

"Okay," I said as I held my notepad and pen, waiting for the details.

"And when I'm there," he continued without making eye contact. "I'll need some help."

Now honestly, for about fifteen seconds, I didn't get where he was going with these instructions. But suddenly, it hit me. "And I'd like it if you would accompany me."

"Huh - well, what about Lilly? She's worked for you a lot longer than I have."

"Well," he said, raising his eyes to meet mine. "Well, Lilly is married, and she has young children, and it's just a lot harder for her to get away. Besides, you have been doing an absolutely amazing job here, and I think you would learn so much attending one of these meetings."

I might have only been twenty-two years old, but I knew full well what going to one of these meetings meant. It meant sleeping with him, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that. But I had to think fast. On the one hand, he was a very nice-looking guy, wealthy, educated, and well connected. But on the other hand - he was my boss, and after we got back, we would still have to maintain a working relationship.

"Assemblyman," I said as I tried to clarify his request.

"Oh, call me Jim," he interrupted. "Please call me Jim; I think you've earned it."

Earned it, I thought. I wonder what that means? But I knew what it meant. I paused momentarily before smiling and replying, "Okay Jim, I'd love to - thank you. What are the dates?"

A huge reciprocal smile spread across Jim's face. "I'll forward you the email with all of the details."

Sitting back at my desk, I reviewed the electronic convention flyer. It was a meeting of Republican state legislators from around the country. I went ahead and booked two first class airline tickets. Since the state wasn't paying for this, I figured there wouldn't be an issue with going first class. But what about the hotel rooms? I debated with myself for several minutes over what to do about our accommodations. Still unsure how to handle it, I emailed Jim, 'There is only one room left; do you mind sharing?'

It was a bald-faced lie, and I'm sure he knew that. But within seconds, I received his response. 'It's okay with me - as long as it's okay with you.' His intentions were now crystal clear, and I booked a lovely suite in the hotel where the convention was being held.

I told Lilly that we were going to the convention together, hoping to get any insight into the trip that she might have. But she just smiled and said, "Have a good time." I was hoping for more, but I think her smile said it all.

At the airport and on the plane, Jim treated me as if we were equals, just two people on a business trip together. However, once we were safely in St. Louis, he started holding my hand as we walked through the airport and held doors open for me whenever he could. When we arrived at the hotel, Jim was so giddy, that I was afraid he was going to carry me over the threshold. Luckily he didn't. I'm just spending three days with him; I'm not marrying him. But once in the room, he was obviously pleased with the accommodations I had selected, especially when he realized that the only bed was a very large king-size. He gave me a quick shoulder-to-shoulder hug and said, "Oh wow. Thanks, Marcia, this is great."

After changing, we had dinner with a friend of his, another Republican legislator from Colorado. And I wasn't surprised to see that he had also brought an attractive young aide with him. She was certainly friendly enough and very pleasant to visit with, but after dinner, they disappeared - I assume up to his room. Still not quite ready to wrinkle the sheets, I asked, "Would you like to take a walk?" To which Jim quickly agreed.

As we strolled the riverbank through Gateway National Park, he held my hand and asked, "Have you ever been to St. Louis before?"

"Well, only through it," I said. And then I told him about the drive our family took taking David out to Davis his freshman year. Reflecting on some of my family's misadventures on such a long cross-country trip, I actually had him laughing when I ended with, "And I don't think my parents will ever take a road trip again."

With that, he stopped, placed his hands on my shoulders, and turned me to face him. As the moonlight reflected off the Mississippi River beside us, he slowly brought his lips to mine - and kissed me. As our lips separated, he said, "I'm just so glad you were willing to make this trip with me."

"I'm honored, Jim. Thank you for including me." I know I was pouring it on thick, but at this point, I actually was getting horny, and I'd always heard, 'You dance with the one that brung ya.' And I was ready to dance.

Back in the hotel room, Jim wrapped his arms around me, and we kissed passionately for the first two or three minutes. Then as soon as our lips parted, he spun me around and unzipped the dress I had been wearing. He briefly hugged me again before pushing the straps off my shoulders and allowing my dress to fall to my feet on the floor. Then, without turning me back around, he unsnapped my bra and let it also slip from my shoulders. As he started kissing the back of my neck, his hands cupped my breasts, and as he gently hugged me, I think I could actually feel his heartbeat.

Jim must have been a breast-man, for he held me with my back to him for a good four or five minutes while he softly fondled and kneaded my heavy boobs. I know he's been dying to do this for months, and now that it was finally happening, he was going to savor every minute of it.

Ready to move on, I nudged my way out of his grip and stepped out of my dress that was piled on the floor. Then turning around, and pushing his tie to the side, I started to unbutton his shirt. "One of us is clearly overdressed," I murmured. To which he quickly shed his jacket, loosened his tie, and pulled it off over his head, before kicking off his shoes.

When he reached for his belt. I playfully slapped his hands away, and kneeling in front of him, I finished the job he had started. His boxers didn't fall to the floor with his slacks, so after slowly returning to a standing position, inches from his face, I brought my lips back to his and softly kissed him. With our arms wrapped around each other, we stood kissing for a minute or two until I began rubbing that massive bulge in his shorts. We were both wearing nothing but our underwear when I whispered, "Do you want to take a shower?"

I'd never had a man decline this request, but Jim quietly mouthed, "No, I want to taste you exactly the way you are." And with that, he pushed me backward onto the bed and followed me down, landing between my legs. Now I hadn't showered since dressing for the airport that morning, and I wasn't sure of my personal hygiene, but apparently, Jim didn't care. He quickly slipped my panties from my hips and buried his face deep between my legs.

For the next five minutes, Jim gave me a tongue lashing like I hadn't had in years. But just as I was about to reach my first orgasm of the evening. Jim raised his head, slid off the bed, and dashed to the bathroom. He still had his boxers on when he disappeared into the next room. But seconds later, he reemerged, stark naked and with a bottle of complimentary hotel body lotion in his hands.

Returning to the bed, he straddled my legs and squirted maybe half of the contents of the sample-size bottle on the vale between my knockers. And then scooted up to my chest until his dick was between the girls, and his balls were resting on my chest, several inches above my belly button. At first, I had no idea what he was doing, but as he pushed my boobs together, surrounding his pecker, I realized he was going to titty fuck me - or fuck my tits, whatever you call it.

At the time, I had never heard of anyone doing that, though thinking back, I guess I've had a few guys try it, but never with body lotion or lube. And I was surprised at how nice it felt. Jim rocked back and forth for probably only two or three minutes when I realized the end was near. I braced myself for the explosion that I knew was coming. And wow, what an explosion it was. His steaming hot expression of appreciation shot up my chest, covering my neck, and splattered onto my face and up into my hair. Jeez, I didn't know one man could produce so much warm spunk. I didn't think it was ever going to stop.

When he finally did cum to a conclusion, he was utterly spent - exhausted. But I was still revved up and unsatisfied. He had brought me to the edge of fruition but left me just hanging there. Breathing like a marathon runner, Jim rolled off me and onto his back. As he continued panting like a dog in the sun on a hot day, I cuddled up next to him, and as I slowly stroked him with one hand, I continued to diddle myself with the other, keeping myself aroused while he recovered. He'd had his magical moment, but I was still awaiting mine.

After allowing him to rest for maybe ten minutes, I had him hard enough to fuck. And while Jim remained on his back, I swung my leg over his body and mounted him like a horny cowgirl. As I bounced up and down on his rigid pole, he tried to participate, but he truly was depleted. And it was okay, for after maybe ten or twelve minutes, I did manage to get myself off. And I have to say, that after a good night's sleep, he did fuck me the next morning to a happy ending for both of us.

The following two nights, Jim and I had sex in a more normal and predictable manner. I'd gotten used to his desire to titty fuck me every time we had sex, and I just made sure he saved the finale for someplace where we both could appreciate it. Generally, deep between my legs. However, on our third and final night in St. Louis, I did give him a blow job to completion, and he loved that I swallowed every drop.

Back in Sacramento, we both pretended that nothing had happened on our little field trip. Lilly was probably dying to know what went on, just as I was dying to know how many times she and Jim had done the nasty, if ever. But both of us were too shy to ask the other. So, it just remained a mystery for both of us. Betty was still friendly, but never again in the way she was when I first joined Jim's office. It quickly occurred to me that she was now aloof toward me the way she had always been to Lilly. So, that just confirmed to me that Jim and Lilly had more than just a business relationship, at least at some point.

The Assemblyman and I never had another out of town trip together. And he never had another opportunity to fuck my tits. But I did occasionally give him blowjobs in his office, and I also allowed him to fondle my naked hangers while I was doing it. It didn't do much for me, but it certainly did for him. And due to term limits, when he wasn't eligible for reelection, he gave me an excellent letter of recommendation as he left office.

3 ^rd Job - Legislative Aid to Mark Hinojosa (D)

In the following session, I managed to get a job with State Senator Mark Hinojosa. Hinojosa represented central Los Angeles and had another four years in office before he was due to reach his term limit. So first, I was fortunate to get on with a Senator instead of another Assemblyman, and it was also lucky that he had four more years in office. I think the letter of recommendation from Jim Reynolds helped a lot, and I felt good about moving up the chain of legislative aides. Additionally, I was Senator Hinojosa's first Aide. Well, actually, his only Aide, as he also had a Deputy and a secretary. The deputy position is much more political than the other staff positions. And usually doubles as the Politician's campaign manager. I really wasn't interested in that, as I preferred being a state employee and hopefully moving to a higher position with each change in administration.

Much like Reynolds when I first started working for him, the Senator was rather formal towards me and very professional. I love working for him, as he clearly relied heavily on me for assistance. That gave me both amazing opportunities to learn more about the art and science of politics, as well as great satisfaction in that he trusted me to such a high degree and respected my opinions.

On a personal level, I could never tell if he was married or not. There were family photos on the credenza behind his desk. But they appeared to all be of his grown children - none of the photos showed anyone that looked like a wife. So, he obviously had one at one point, or he wouldn't have five kids. But he never mentioned her, and I never asked. I assumed that he was either divorced or possibly widowed.

Further, he never did anything to even suggest that he had any interest in me other than professional. He never touched me, stood inappropriately close, or even hinted at anything personal. He was a true gentleman in every regard. That is until about a year into my tenure. He had been working for over six months on what he hoped would be his signature piece of legislation - his legacy, so to speak. And he was determined that it would be bipartisan. However, not one Republican had signed on to the bill, even though it would have easily passed the Democratically controlled Assembly and Senate. But that wasn't the point.

"Marcia," he said, calling me into his office. I could tell from his face that he was exhausted from working on this bill, but he also appeared nervous about what he was about to ask me. "Marcia, I need a break." There was a long pause. "But I need your help - I can't do this without you."

I smiled and nodded my understanding.

"I have a house - a cabin, up at Lake Tahoe. I'm thinking of going up there for a week to work on this bill without any of the normal office distractions or interruptions."

"Senator, I think that would be a great idea," I said with a friendly smile.

"But I can't do it without you. I have grown to rely on you for so much, and I need your help."

The smile temporarily drained from my face. I honestly wasn't expecting that. But before the Senator raised his eyes to make contact with mine, I quickly turned my look of surprise back into a look of innocent optimism. "Oh Senator, absolutely," I said in my most professional voice. "I would love to help you. I would be honored."

The Senator picked me up at my apartment just before noon the following Saturday. And to my surprise, he wasn't driving his usual car; he was driving his twenty-year-old pickup truck that he uses while campaigning. A 'Man of the People' pickup truck, as he calls it. It didn't have air conditioning or a working radio, and it rattled. But it was safe, and besides, it's only a two-hour drive from Sacramento to Lake Tahoe.

And he was right about it being a cabin. Many wealthy Californians have bought up smaller cabins like the Senator's and torn them down to build McMansion weekend houses. But Hinojosa's was still one of the old originals, probably forty or fifty years old, but sitting on a million-dollar lot. It was cute and very quaint, an authentic rustic mountain cabin, not actually on the lake, but with a gorgeous Lake Tahoe view.

"Wow," I said as we pulled into the driveway. "This is beautiful." He didn't immediately say anything but mumbled an abbreviated thank you as we came to a stop, and he put the truck in park. He grabbed both of our suitcases from the bed of the truck and raced with them to the front porch. Where he nervously fumbled with the key to the front door, as I just stood helplessly watching. I wanted to help him, but at the moment, there was nothing I could do.

Once inside, I realized how small the cabin really was. There was a relatively comfortable living room, with a beautiful stone fireplace. Two small bedrooms, one bathroom, and a tiny kitchen. "I'll take this room," Hinojosa said as he carried his suitcase to the larger of the two bedrooms, and you can take that one." The room he took for himself had a view of the lake and a queen bed. The smaller of the two rooms, only had a view of the driveway and his truck. Plus, it only had two twin beds. But it was okay - it was his house, and I was just a guest.

As the Senator nervously began unpacking his bag. I went to check out the kitchen. The refrigerator was absolutely bare, not even bottled water. And there was nothing in any of the cabinets except salt, pepper, and aluminum foil. But the kitchen was spotlessly clean and even smelled fresh.

"Hey," I yelled. "There's absolutely nothing in the kitchen."

Hinojosa stepped out of his bedroom and said, "Yes, we rent the house out when we're not using it. And the cleaning crew has instructions to clean out everything."

"Well," I said. "They did a good job." He just stood there looking at me, with an awkward expression on his face. I guess he hadn't thought about what we were going to eat. To break the silence, I finally said, "I'll go to the store. Why don't you go ahead and unpack and start working on your bill? I'll be back to help you in an hour."

He didn't even question me; he just handed me the keys to his truck and his personal credit card. "Anything in particular you want?" I questioned. And he just shook his head no.

I had seen the Safeway back in town when we drove in. And figuring we would probably eat out several times during the week, I bought enough groceries for six breakfasts, five lunches, and four dinners. I hadn't actually eaten that many meals out with him over the last year. But I had picked up lunches and dinners for him many times when he was too busy to leave the Capitol. So, I felt I had a pretty good idea of what he'd like.

Returning to the cabin with a truckload of groceries, I found him sitting at the dining table, with his laptop open and papers spread all over. He looked up, smiled at me, and asked, "Can I help you?"

To which I shook my head no and said, "No, I've got it. You just keep working." I brought in the sacks of groceries myself and put everything away. And once finished, I asked, "Would you like a glass of wine?" To which he nodded yes. I poured us both a glass of Merlot and sat down next to him at the dining table.

"How is it going," I asked after taking a sip of wine.

"I've got several angles I want to go over with you," he said after taking a sip from his own glass.

"Great," I said. "You can ask me while I fix dinner."

"Fix dinner?" he said with a surprised tone to his voice.

"Of course, Senator, why do you think I went to the store? I'm going to totally take care of you this week. You don't have to lift a finger."

"Marcia," he said with a look of sincerity on his face. "Please, up here, don't call me Senator or Hinojosa. It's Mark - please."

"Got it," I said as I slipped from my chair and stepped back into the kitchen. "Now you talk while I'm cooking. Ask me anything you want. I'm only five feet away; I can hear everything you say."

As Mark (as I now call him) continued to work, I set out to make my grandmother's lasagna. I don't have a great deal of experience in the kitchen. But my Nonna was a fabulous Italian cook. My grandparents on mom's side were Italian - that's where my Sophia Loren boobs came from. And my dad's parents were Irish - so that's where my Amy Adams flowing locks of strawberry blonde hair came from. The best of both worlds, my parents always told me.

As I cut up and sautéed onions and garlic for my sauce, Mark read me aloud several papers others had written on the subject. I commented when I thought I could add a perspective, but otherwise, I just listened while I cooked. As the lasagna baked, I made a salad of fresh greens, tomatoes, and loads of avocado. I knew Mark loved avocado, as he ordered guacamole on almost every sandwich I ever picked up for him.