Gubernatorial Pussy

DISCLAIMER: While this story refers to several persons other than the main characters, who currently hold, or formerly held, elected office, they are not participants in the events related in this story, which is essentially about how I and a good looking former governor came to have a relationship that was much closer than the employer/employee relationship that it was at the outset. The political figures mentioned here are in the story only as they provide some context to the relationship between the main characters. No opinion or commentary is offered as to the merits of any policies or conduct of their positions, pro or con, and none should be inferred. Expression of such views is best left to other forums. We're all here for the sex, which is what this story is really about. Enjoy.

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I've always been the driver. I have an innate ability to handle a motor vehicle, and have driven everything from cars to beer trucks, to 18 wheelers, to transit buses. I also have an ability to read a map, something that intimidates a lot of people. And I'm not squeamish about driving in traffic, probably due to learning to drive in lower Manhattan. Since my college days, any time anyone has had to go somewhere, they have asked me to drive.

I retired at 55 following a long career in transportation. After a couple of years, I again longed for the road, if only on a part time basis. A casual conversation with a friend led me to an opportunity, and I soon found myself in Lansing, Michigan, waiting for an interview with a former public official who was looking for a part time driver and personal assistant.

At the appointed hour, a secretary called me, and I was ushered into a back office. As I entered, a tall, slender woman with close cropped blonde hair, a bright smile and sparkling blue eyes came out from behind her desk to greet me. I quickly took in the sight of her in black pants, low heels, and a royal blue blouse, open about three buttons, just enough to give a hint of her B cup breasts-but only just a hint, just a tease of what was inside.

"Hi. You must be Tom. I'm Jennifer..."

"...Granholm," I completed her sentence.

"You know??" she asked, a little surprised that I recognized her.

"I didn't know it was you I might be working for, but when I saw you, I recognized you from seeing you on CNN. I follow politics pretty closely."

"Oh," said the former governor. "So you're a political wonk," she said, smiling.

"I don't know if I'm a 'wonk' necessarily, but I keep up. And I find your commentary insightful." That was true, but I figured it didn't hurt to suck up a little. What I didn't say was that I had also admired the governor's form for a long time.

The interview went well, and I was offered a job as the governor's part time driver and personal assistant. The hours would be flexible, and I would be driving her to events generally within 150 miles of the office, occasionally longer. The job suited me, and paid pretty well, which didn't hurt any.

It turned out that my services were required a bit more than I originally expected, but this was 2016, a presidential election year, and the governor was deeply involved in getting out the vote in Michigan, which turned out to be one of the pivotal battleground states. I didn't mind; I was getting along famously with Governor Granholm, and we soon developed a good rapport, discovering we shared a sharp wit and keen sense of humor, and I especially enjoyed her dead on impressions of Sarah Palin, though our relationship was entirely professional and courteous. Though she was a veteran of many political battles, she'd often ask my opinion or seek insight into various situations, valuing my observations from the "man on the street" perspective. These sessions led to many deep conversations about policy and strategy. My political leanings are generally centrist, and I think that position helped Mrs. Granholm keep a balanced outlook, though I don't want to give myself too much credit for that, as she's perfectly capable of forming her own policy platform without my help. What it did unquestionably do was bring us closer together, since I'd always give her a straight up answer, and I soon had her trust on many issues.

Following the election, as the Trump administration got underway, the governor, coming from what turned out to be a key battleground state, found herself in demand as a speaker and commentator, often appearing on CNN and other outlets. Some of those appearances would be done remotely, but some would be in studio, and we'd travel to them. Typically, that involved flying to wherever the appearance was on the longer trips, though I would usually drive Mrs. Granholm when we got there. She appreciated my knowledge of major cities, and that I was not flustered by heavy traffic and urban driving.

As the year rolled through spring and into summer, the governor's appearances on CNN became frequent, and we found ourselves one week in late August going to New York for several stints on CNN, as well as appearances on The View, Today, and several other programs. We were going to spend the week there. Following that whirlwind tour, we had been invited to Chris Cuomo's Southampton beach home for the weekend before heading back to Michigan.

We finished up Friday on CNN Tonight, planning to head to the Hamptons on Saturday morning. We had flown into La Guardia, where CNN sent a car to pick us up. That would be our primary method of getting around town. I normally like to drive, since I prefer to have control over how we get places, and I had developed a somewhat protective attitude toward Mrs. Granholm, not really trusting anyone else to drive her. I had learned to drive a car in lower Manhattan, so I'm not squeamish about New York traffic, but just the same, I was glad not to have to drive in it. It also gave me time with the governor, helping her prepare for her TV spots. This was quite welcome. We had become close during what was now a year of our working association, though our interactions were entirely professional; still, the close working contact seemed to bring us closer than we were already.

During the week of being taxied by a limo, Jennifer had noted how bad Manhattan traffic had gotten. I reminded her that sometimes Detroit was worse, which got me a look, but her point was well taken. Driving in New York was never a picnic, but it was a lot easier in the 70's when I learned. Now it was constant congestion. She wondered idly how bad the traffic would be on our trip to the Island that weekend.

Saturday morning came, and we were ready to go. We went downstairs, and out into the street. The governor looked around, wondering where our car was.

"I have an alternate plan," I said. We were at the Hotel Pennsylvania on 7th Avenue at 32nd Street. "Follow me." I took the governor's hand and crossed the street, going down the stairs into Penn Station. I got two tickets for Southampton, and led her to the gate for Track 18, where we boarded a Long Beach train.

Jennifer had not experienced this method of going out to the Island, as she had always been driven, or flew in to Islip. "This is different," she said, as we boarded the train in the bowels of Penn Station.

"It's the height of elegant travel," I said, giving her sarcastic look. "Actually, we'll be on this train only about 20 minutes. At Jamaica, we'll connect to the Montauk train. It'll be a little nicer." Jennifer gave me a 'what have I gotten into??' look as we settled into a couple of seats. I explained as we rolled toward our connection in Jamaica how in years past, the trains to the east end had parlor cars, some even with rear platforms, and were a really elegant way to travel. We were soon on our way, blasting our way through Queens once we cleared the East River tunnel, arriving in Jamaica on time on Track 7.

The scene at Jamaica is carefully choreographed chaos, as any commuter will tell you, and I didn't want the governor to get away from me, so I took her hand as the doors opened, and led her across the platform to track 8, where a train was waiting. Jennifer was headed for the door, when I held her back.

"Not our train," I said, pointing to the overhead sign. "This is the Oyster Bay train. Nice place to visit, and you should see Teddy Roosevelt's home there, but not today. We're on the next one." Jennifer smiled. I relaxed my grip, but she was not letting go. I felt her engagement ring digging into my finger, but tightened my fingers back up anyway. If a sore finger was the price of holding this lovely woman's hand, I'll gladly pay it.

We watched the Oyster Bay train slowly roll away through the maze of tracks east of the station, and the Montauk train moved in behind it. It came to a stop, and we boarded. The newer LIRR equipment is bi level, but an alternating up-and-down arrangement. The upper seats have a better view, but the lower are a little cozier, if such can describe a commuter train. Jennifer elected one of the lowers, and we climbed down, taking two seats on the window, facing each other. Busy as it was-a lot of people take those trains on a summer Saturday-we had the seats to ourselves, and were soon enjoying a semi private ride east, with me pointing out points of interest along the way.

The governor seemed surprised I knew the area as well as I did. "I grew up here, and lived in Queens Village for a few years, and have a long history in Nassau County. This is my home turf. Some time when we're here and have some time, I'll take you on a tour of some of the more interesting and pretty places that are in Queens and nearby Long Island. There's more to it than just sprawl."

Jennifer's face lit up. "I've been to New York on many occasions over the years, but never with a native. I'm looking forward to it."

"You'll love it. I'll show you a lot of places out of towners never go, that are well worth the effort. Maybe next time we're in New York."

"It's a date," said Jennifer, a big smile on her face as she took my hands in hers. This was now a lot more like a date already, the business part of the trip having been completed. We were now much more relaxed now that we had a couple of free days.

We got to Southampton and were met at the train by one of Chris Cuomo's assistants, who got us quickly to the house, which was a little way out of town, and faced out on the ocean. Jennifer knew most of the people there already, and I knew some. We had a quick bite as we said our hellos, and got to our rooms.

After the meet and greet, Jennifer pulled me aside. "Wanna go walk on the beach??"

I winked at her. "You betcha!!" I said, in my best Sarah Palin voice. Jennifer laughed out loud at the unexpected style of the reply. We went to our rooms, and changed. I put on a boxer style suit and a t-shirt. Jennifer came out in a loose, mesh top and cutoffs. Under the top, I could see what looked like a black bikini top. I'm not much of a beach person, but I was now hoping for some time in the water. The idea of Jennifer in a bikini was enticing.

We waved at the rest of the gang, and headed out the back, down some steps and onto the beach. It was busy, as one would expect on an August Saturday, but the governor took my hand as we walked, smiling up at me as her fingers entwined with mine.

"This is beautiful," she said as we walked. "As pretty as the lakes are in Michigan, this is wonderful. I love the sand, and listening to the waves."

I squeezed her hand. "It has a lot of appeal. I'm not much for the beach, but I can see why people like it. There is something peaceful about listening to the ocean roll in. We should come out here at night. There's a full moon, or close to it. The ocean can be really pretty in the moonlight." We had gone almost a mile from Cuomo's house, and were now well out of sight of it.

"Wanna go in the water??" asked Jennifer.

"Sure. It should be fairly warm by now, maybe 70 degrees. Hope that's not too chilly."

"Hah!!" said Jennifer. "You should try lake water in Michigan. If you're lucky, it might get to 60."

"My late wife was from the Gulf Coast. She wouldn't go in unless the water was at least 80 degrees, and even that was kind of iffy."

"Well, 70 should be a piece of cake." Jennifer walked over to a dune, and dropped the bag she had brought along, in case we wanted some waters, or a warmer shirt. She smiled at me, lifting the top over her head, revealing a black bikini top as I expected. It was a little loose, and in it her B cup tits swung around like they were in a sling. She looked really good, now in just flip flops, cutoffs, and the bikini top. Then she unbuttoned and unzipped her cutoffs, letting them drop to the sand. I took in the sight of my 58 year old boss in a black bikini.

"Good night, nurse!!" I exclaimed, almost speechless at the sight of Jennifer's athletic form in a small black bikini. Stunning didn't even begin to describe her: nicely hanging B cup tits, swaying in the string top; her belly had a small mommy pouch, just barely noticeable; the bottom barely covered her pussy, and I thought I saw a few stray blonde curls escaping the leg bands. And her ass!! All that atop a set of long, toned legs.

"Governor, actually. And Attorney General before that," she teased me, smiling.

"Holy Crap, governor!! If the guys at the auto plants saw you like this, you could get reelected forever!!"

The ex governor laughed. "I don't know, mid 50's woman, starting to droop in places..."

I cut her off. "I don't see anything drooping anywhere on you!! And you must be familiar with the term 'MILF??'"

Jennifer laughed again. "Yes, I've heard that before."

"Well, in the Dictionary of American Slang, next to 'MILF,' will be your picture."

Jennifer laughed at that, as she walked toward the water, her feet getting washed over as the surf came in. "Coming in?? Water's fine!!" She went in up to her knees. I tossed my t-shirt over to the bag we brought, and followed her in.

We had been splashing around for about ten minutes when the breeze picked up. It caught Jennifer by surprise, giving her a chill. I didn't mind, as it made her nipples poke prominently through the thin material of her top. She moved over close to me, and I shifted position to block the wind.

"Wow, it gets chilly out here!!" she said, apparently surprised at the sudden coolness.

"Yeah, it can. Keep in mind, it's already ten degrees cooler than in town, and the wind is always blowing out here. Wait til dark. If the wind picks up, you'll almost need a coat."

Jennifer laughed even as she was shivering from the cool wind on her wet suit. She snuggled close to me, and I put my arm around her, pulling her face to my chest. "Wow, you're warm!!" She said, burying her head in my chest, her right hand running through the thick hair as her left went around my waist. I leaned my head over, resting my face on her hair.

"I'm always the warmest guy in the room. People stand next to me to stay warm. I'm like one of those vacant lot steel drum fires."

Jennifer laughed at the description. "I can see why. Maybe it's this chest," she said, nuzzling the thicker hair in the center. "This is wonderful. I love a man with a hairy chest. It feels so warm and comforting." She pushed into me, then looked up. I was about to kiss the top of her head when her face turned up. Our eyes met, and we gazed at each other a moment, each searching the other's for a sign.

I've been around long enough to know the potential of an unbalanced relationship. This was clearly one of those situations. Mrs. Granholm, aside from being my boss, had been the governor of a large state. The power balance here was way out of whack. But here was I, looking into the captivating blue eyes of a woman whom I had admired from afar for a long time, and whom I had now gotten to know pretty well, and with whom I had not only a really good working relationship, but also a personal one now as well. In the few seconds we looked at each other, all this went through my mind, along with the possibility of starting a scandal that might derail any career she might have, as well as a long term marriage. On the other hand, Jennifer had been quietly coming on to me since we changed trains at Jamaica, so she was clearly interested in more than the professional relationship we had so far. We had walked up to a plainly visible line in the sand, as it were. Would we cross it?? If this goes awry, I thought, I can just go back to retirement. And I really, really, want her.

Jennifer, looking up at me, forced the question. She stood up on her toes, her face reaching for mine. 'The hell with it,' I thought. I leaned down, meeting her halfway, our lips coming together first softly, then more forcefully, as our kiss lingered almost a whole minute. We parted, again looking into each other's eyes. I leaned forward again. Jen closed her eyes, and we kissed, a long, gentle kiss, longer than the first one. As we kissed, I felt Jennifer turn her body so it was a full press into me, her arms wrapping around me. I felt her right leg wrap around my left as she pulled me even closer.

Finally, she released her hold on me, and we broke our kiss, looking at each other, now out of breath. Jennifer smiled up at me. I still wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but the growing tension in my suit was giving me away. Jennifer reached down, slowly stroking me.

"I've wanted that for a long time," she said, gently rubbing up and down as she looked up and down the beach. It wasn't crowded, but there were too many people out to do much, especially if you're a well known former governor.

"I have, too," I said. "I'd like to take this further, but this isn't the time."

"No," said Jennifer, looking around. "Too many people on the beach. And I'm too well known. Maybe we can escape for a walk tonight. We won't be able to get away in the house. Andrew will be here tomorrow, so that's probably out. The place will be crawling with state troopers."

"Yeah, you governors are so disruptive," I said, making Jennifer laugh.

"I wouldn't know anything about that!!"

We started back to the house, hand in hand, a new closeness between us. "We should probably let go," I said, holding up our interlocked fingers, "before we get into sight."

"Yeah, good idea," said Jennifer, stopping. She pulled me close, and we kissed again. "That will have to hold us for a while."

We went back to the house, where Chris had the grill warmed up, and was about to start on burgers and hot dogs, along with all the fixings you'd expect-spicy mustard, relish(no ketchup. New Yorkers don't put ketchup on hot dogs. It will get you deported to Jersey), along with macaroni salad, and potato salad made only as New Yorkers can do it. We mingled with the family and several guests. After a while, when the food was ready, we all sat together and had a congenial dinner, followed by drinks and tales of politics and broadcasting. As the light faded, and the air cooled, people started moving inside. Jennifer saw the shift, and excused herself. She came back out ten minutes later, still in her cutoffs, but now in a zip front sweatshirt.

"Wanna go for a walk??"

"Sure!!" I said quietly. It was now close to sunset, and the moon was just coming up over the horizon, casting a long reflection on the water. We slipped off the deck and onto the sand, grabbing a towel as we went, heading in the same direction we had gone in the afternoon. As we got away from the house, we again joined hands, taking our time as we took in the glory of an ocean sunset, neon orange and pink, the rush of the waves for a sound track.

We walked down a little over a quarter mile, where Jennifer had noted a ripple in the dunes, the kind of spot that was hidden from immediate view. By now, the day trippers had mostly left, and everyone else was in for the night, and we had the beach to ourselves. Jennifer led me to our little alcove, turned to me, and kissed me. As we were walking, she had pulled down the zipper on her sweatshirt partway, and I could now easily see a good portion of her left breast. I reached in, giving it a squeeze, rolling the nipple between my fingers, making Jennifer giggle.