Politics Ch. 01

Time to test them even more. "And one and two and three and four—"

Her regulars groaned. They knew from experience that Rebecca was taking them to the top of the mountain and despite the undoubted benefit, there were quite a few who weren't sure if they were going to be able to make it.

Hands raised, she clapped them above her head as she spread her legs apart and then pulled them together. Glancing at her reflection in the mirrored walls at the back of the room, she smiled to herself. A lustful, knowing, sexual smile. God, she was close to getting off on this.

Other women were watching her too, watching her near perfect body move. That only enhanced the feelings of arousal building inside her.

Half turning so that the curved profile of her ass was like one side of a heart, she swung harder, swinging to the left, then the right. Her tits, impervious to the forces of gravity, pushed out self-confidently against the already soaked multi coloured leotard. Her silky raven coloured hair, bounced perfectly on shoulders that were as athletic as the rest of her body.

Fuck, she looked hot!

Rebecca pulled her gaze away from her reflection; her eyes picking out the hottest women in the class, identifying which of their stares at her were tinged with pain, and which with arousal. Other than the bedroom, this was her theatre. Moments like this made her feel like a dancing Goddess.

Concentrate, she told herself! These people—all shapes and sizes—were giving their all. She had to focus, stay with them. A moment's loss of attention and all credibility would be gone. So would the numbers who attended. Hers was the only over subscribed class in North London, the only one with a waiting list. It was a matter of personal pride to keep it that way.

"Okay now, knee raising one last time. Go for it now. Feel the pain—"

Once again the staccato beat rocked the wooden floor of the small gym. Rebecca could see the calories burning before her eyes. Smell them too. The sweat soaked, skin-tight leotards in front of her revealed the contours of the firm, muscular bodies underneath. At moments like this, her fantasy of being with a woman was at its strongest.

She knew there were a few gazes out there, fixed on her, who were wondering, too. Maybe one day?

"And twenty, now twenty more, and one, and two—"

She was close herself, close to the aerobics nirvana—the exercise high. She was also close to an orgasm. Deus!

She may have been blessed with the sexiest, most responsive of bodies, but at moments like this it felt anything but a blessing. Her body was suddenly light as she reached the cloud on which she could float forever. If she squeezed her internal muscles, it would take her there, over the edge.

Yes, like that. Oh, dear God, like that…

She allowed the climax to wash through her as the music reached its crescendo, the intensity of movement required from the class taking their gazes away from her to concentrate on making the very end of their routine. Allowing the orgasm to ease in the way she'd previously perfected when in front of her class, she regained a semblance of control as the music dipped.

"Now we ease," she told them, panting hard. "Don't stop, ladies. Keep jogging, but relax now."

Groans of relief greeted her words, but the atmosphere of mutual congratulation was almost palpable. She felt good. They felt good. Her class adored her, respected her. It was incredibly rewarding, and she just loved that feeling. This was what she was paid for, and along with sex, what made life worthwhile.

Somehow she had to find a way of securing the investment needed to start out on her own. To run her own aerobics franchise! It was her dream…

***

The middle-aged receptionist opened the door of Katie's office and peered through the gap. "Your final patient's just telephoned. She's been delayed half an hour."

"Miss Wilkinson?"

"Yes," Diana confirmed, with that 'chewing a bumble bee' look of hers. "Late again!"

"Don't worry," Katie smiled. Thursday night was Diana's evening for visiting her mother. "You don't need to wait afterwards, I'll show her out."

"That woman is never on time!" came a voice from behind the matronly receptionist. Diana pushed the door open and stepped aside. When the Senior Partner was around, she knew it was time to make herself scarce.

"Still, it gives us time to chat," the heavy set man told Katie, easing his way into the room and sitting down on the chestnut, leather couch opposite the large desk. "Some coffee, please, Diana."

Brian Sterling looked anything but the Scotsman he was, with his slicked back thin grey hair, pencil moustache and Oxford accent.

"So, how are you?"

"Good," Katie grinned. There was something about the smart, stuffy Senior Partner that appealed. Ever since she'd had that dream of sucking his cock. But then, she often had that sort of dream…

The Senior Partner smoothed his immaculate, grey business suit as he grinned up at her. Like most men who looked at Katie Nichols, his eyes were filled with affection and a tinge of lust. Even at his age. Retirement wasn't that far away.

He'd felt that way ever since he'd employed her, and there was no doubt her physical appearance had been a factor in his decision. It went against the grain, and many years of experience. But she had that sort of effect on men. He couldn't deny that. Still, her references had been compelling, and they had been enough to allow him to disguise the real reason behind her appointment.

Since then, she'd proved her worth many times over, progressing favourably to his mentoring and gradually developing her wider business knowledge. He regarded her as the most valuable member of his team, despite her position as the junior partner, an anomaly he intended rectifying before too long.

"You look good today," he told her, as Diana returned with their decaffeinated coffee. "You know how much I love you, I hope."

"I know," Katie laughed. Brian was the ultimate flirt.

"I know, too," Diana chipped in as she placed the coffee tray on the side table. "But half the practice is in love with Katie."

"True," the sixty-year-old Scot laughed. "The difference is, it's your mind I'm after, Katie, not your body."

"Hmmm," the matronly receptionist smirked, handing each of them a china cup and saucer. "That's what all the males in the office say…"

"Bye, Diana," he dismissed her, his warm smile following the receptionist as she threw her head back and left the office.

Katie picked up the silver coffee pot and filled both cups, then perched herself on the corner of her desk and took a sip from hers. "Forgive me, Brian, but you've never been one for small talk. Was there something specific?"

"That's my Katie, never beats around the bush," he said, flashing that confident smile of his. "Just a word about your final patient. She's always late, treats our staff like dirt. Do we really want her on our books?"

There was only one answer. "She pays well, and on time."

Katie watched the overweight man nod his head as he drank from his cup. She knew only too well how much clients' fees counted with him. They were food and drink to the practice.

"Mmmm… you make a compelling argument, my dear," he growled.

Katie smiled as she shifted position on the desk, swinging her long legs almost absent-mindedly under his gaze. But the move was calculated. Some distraction was necessary! Angela Wilkinson was an important client and that income maintained her reputation as the practice's best fee earner.

"Okay, okay," he continued, somehow pulling his eyes away and easing up from the couch. "Just make sure she behaves a little better, will you?"

"I will," she grinned, grateful for the small victory.

Shifting position again, she allowed the Senior Partner a better view of her dark stocking tops as he headed for the door. Wanted her for her mind? Bah humbug! Despite his age, Brian Sterling was just like any other man she'd met. And she knew exactly how to handle them.

What would he do if she slid to her knees and enacted her dream, she wickedly wondered as he left? Damn, what had brought that back to the forefront of her mind? What was it about a man's cock that had brought about her… problem? She didn't need to ask the question, of course.

The first time it had happened had been at her prom night. Her date had been everything any girl could want—handsome, clever, articulate, and the captain of every sports team in school.

It would never have worked, of course. Even then, Brad was beginning to find men as attractive as women. Since then, the Jets quarter back had enjoyed a couple of well-publicised liaisons before settling down with the love of his life, a fifty-year-old music impresario.

Prom night had been beautiful and barmy. She remembered it like it was just last week, not a dozen years ago. She remembered how scandalous her green, sequined dress had been. It was the strapless top of the slinky gown that caused her mother to fret, and the way her already deep, creamy décolletage spilled forth. It was also the night that Katie discovered she had hidden desires of her own, tastes that still haunted her.

Brad had spent much of the evening table-hopping and talking to the male teachers. With her efforts to look as beautiful as she did wasted, Katie had strolled out onto the lawn that bordered the parking lot in disgust.

Leaning against the fender of one of the more expensive cars was one of the gardeners, a five-foot, wispy moustached Costa Rican old enough to be her father. Smoking a cheroot, his crumpled white shirt open to his waist, something about the way he had looked at her hit Katie in the stomach.

By no stretch of the imagination could the swarthy-skinned man have been considered attractive, and yet there was some attraction there. The forbidden…?

Making her way down the path, Katie had stared defiantly back, watching as the diminutive, thin-as-a-rake man took a long draw of the cheroot, blowing the smoke high so that it spiralled away into the evening air. A half smile on his face, he had practically dared her to walk closer.

The look in his eye had been one that she'd seen many times in the boys at school, particularly when she was in her cheerleader uniform, or dressed for the gym. She'd recognised it so well. But the hormone deficient boys her age had engendered nothing like the feelings of sexual arousal that this old feller had. God, the thin, grubby looking Tico must have been sixty, at least, and even now, years later, she felt a shiver pass through her.

She'd walked deliberately out of her way to make sure she passed near to him, knowing that he'd realise that, too. Let him see the goods. Let him see the way her already full breasts were squeezed into her slinky gown. What he couldn't have. When his gaze had run all over her, making no attempt to hide the desire in his eyes, she'd felt a surge of heat run through her loins.

It was a sensation as strong as she'd felt in any of her passionate embraces with Brad. It was stronger, different. Now, after years of training, she knew it was the danger, the illicitness of the situation that had created the arousal. Back then, she'd just been drunk with lust.

Katie remembered feeling faint as she'd walked closer. Allowing this wiry old man's eyes to undress her in the semi darkness of the parking lot, while the party went on in the building behind her, had been exhilarating. She had taken a risk, approaching him this closely, but that thought had only enhanced her arousal.

The sensible option would have been to turn back to the path and return to the safety of the party. The other, heart-stopping alternative, had been to… to…

Without speaking, the narrow eyed gardener had extended his right arm as she drew level, as if offering the cheroot to her. It had been enough to make her hesitate. Before she'd gathered her thoughts, she'd found herself standing in front of him, so close that she could see the little rivulets of sweat on his bared chest.

She'd brazenly taken the proffered cheroot as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She took a long drag, blowing the smoke skywards in the same way that she'd seen him do. The tobacco, if that had been what it was, had a strong, heady flavour to it, causing her to cough uncontrollably as the unexpected taste hit her lungs.

"Ees good," the little man had growled, amusement in his eyes. "You need drink?"

Katie nodded, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand while the other rubbed across her stomach. Tears had collected in her eyes from the after-taste of the smoke in her mouth. The half drunk bottle of water he'd handed her lasted only a few seconds as she gulped it down.

"Wanna see Costa Rican snake?" he'd breathed, his narrow eyes watching every expression on her face.

"Snake?" she'd gasped.

"Yes. You frightened?"

"No," she'd lied, pushing a strand of coiled hair back into place. "Of course not."

"Good," he'd grinned. "Wanna see my snake?"

She remembered nodding, wondering why he had a snake…

When his small hands had dropped to his belt-less white trousers, she'd suddenly understood. Turn and run, she'd told herself, but her feet had become glued to the spot. The Tico had dragged his zip down before pushing his trousers to his knees, his boxers quickly following.

Katie remembered the wave of physical desire that had swept through her, an almost blinding rush of unbridled lust, as the gardener's long, thin cock had been revealed. She dreamt of it. He had been already half erect.

Leaning back against the bonnet of the car, he'd stroked himself. "You want?" he asked. "Costa Rican snake very powerful. When you play with the Costa Rican snake, its spits venom."

Katie had moved forward automatically, her eyes glued on the long cock. Sinking to her knees, she came—hard—as soon as she had him between her lips. The pale young brunette didn't stop sucking until the Costa Rican snake had spit load after load of its venom into her eager mouth.

Life would never be the same again.

***

Despite having fucked Thomas as soon as he'd returned home, Rebecca was ready for more. They'd enjoyed their light evening meal with a celebratory bottle of champagne and she had raised the idea of them considering an open lifestyle again. He wasn't impressed!

"Open lifestyle? You mean fucking other people. Aren't I enough for you?"

"Of course you are," she'd replied, as she always did, letting the subject drop.

She had mentioned it three times over the past few months but had always received the same reaction. Quite why she was feeling the need for more sexual freedom right now she wasn't sure. Yes, her lifestyle in Brazil had been not exactly been monogamous, but since settling down with Thomas, she'd thought she'd put that behind her. She'd fallen in love after all.

Somehow she needed to resist the occasional urges that seemed to flutter through her body when she saw a particularly hot guy. She didn't need that, did she, not when she had Thomas fucking her as wonderfully as he did.

"So, you think this guy will win the General Election?" she asked, changing the subject as she pushed her golden haired boyfriend down on the couch. She almost devoured his mouth with her own before allowing him to answer.

"Well," he mumbled, kissing her again while cupping her tits through the thin dressing gown she'd been wearing since their lovemaking session. "The polls have the Conservatives a couple of points behind Labour, so it'll be touch and go. But you should hear this guy, Becky. He talks sense and he has the country at heart. He really believes he can make a difference!"

This time her kiss was softer. "Don't they all?" she murmured into his mouth. "Isn't that the whole point?"

"Maybe," he answered, kneading her breasts in that way she liked. "But occasionally someone comes along and grabs you by the balls…"

"Like this?" she asked, cupping him through his black boxers. "Mmmm, and do you always grow like that, Thomas Kincaid, when someone grabs your balls?"

He squirmed slightly as her hand moved onto his cock, playfully squeezing his long shaft. "Geez, Becky," he grinned, releasing her tits and pushing his ass upwards. "You're always this way after a class. Can't you take more than three a week?"

The way her hand left him and she eased her body across his thighs told him his thrusting hips had her attention. "No, I can't get more," she said, breathing faster as her excitement built. "But I've been thinking, Thomas, I want to buy my own place, set up my own business."

"Oh, yes…" he began. It wasn't the first time they'd had this sort of conversation.

"I'm serious," she insisted, momentarily putting aside her sexual need and cupping his face in her hands so that she could stare into his eyes. "Most of my regulars tell me they'll come with me if I start up on my own…"

"You've talked to them about it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "How do you think your employer's will take that if they find out you've been soliciting business from their customers?"

"Oh, fuck off! Don't be such a wimp!" she exclaimed, throwing both arms into the air in that Brazilian way of hers. "Do you always have to think so logically? Is that why the Conservatives want you? I haven't solicited anything. They told me, Thomas. They're always suggesting it."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts," she told him, her brown eyes blazing in line with her rising voice. "They all say the same thing. They've been to a few different classes in London and mine is the best by far. We only had half attendance when I took over and now – look at the waiting list."

"Then why don't you put on more classes?"

"Damn, Thomas, I've told you this before," she almost shouted. "Because the bloody fools won't let me!"

"I know… I know…" he soothingly told her, hugging her into his body.

She wasn't going to be denied.

"Look," she said, trying to control her annoyance. "Things are going well and I love what I do. I'm very lucky. But I want to do this full time, Thomas. You know I've offered to buy out the franchise, but I can't even afford that. So what happens? That bastard Tommy Fargo keeps paying me peanuts in the knowledge that my dedication will keep me there."

"Yes, but…"

"No fucking buts," she shouted, her Brazilian accent becoming thicker as her annoyance increased. Why did he never understand? "Look, he doesn't appreciate me and when I've had enough, he'd find someone else. And it'll go back down the pan again. If I had my own business, I could double the number of classes and still be oversubscribed. The demand is definitely there. I'd reduce the fees, too. It's ridiculous what Tommy charges. The bastard is taking advantage of my popularity. He has a little goldmine there, there's no need to rip me off, or his clientele, either."

"I'm not against the idea," Thomas told her, reaching up to affectionately stroke her cheeks in an attempt to calm her. "You know that, Becky. I'm aware how much it means to you and I want you to set up on your own. You'll be fabulous. But where do we get the thirty thousand pounds from?"

The beautiful Brazilian went quiet. She'd been to every bank with the idea, but no one was prepared to back her. The economic climate was all wrong for that type of business, the fools had said. Why couldn't they see that it was a sure thing? It was so obvious…

"I don't know, Thomas," she said, quieter now. One hand went to her dressing gown, pulling it open to expose her full breasts. The other went to the back of his head, pulling his mouth to her erect nipple. "All I know," she continued, letting out a small moan as his lips went to work, "Is that I want to take control of my future, not be jerked around on that loser's string!"