Sleeping with the Senator

Suddenly, Senator Wyatt slowed his pace to a crawl. His fingers massaged the wall of my cunt with the right amount of firm, consistent pressure. He focused right under the hood of my clit instead of the entire thing, narrowing in with a soft, persistent tongue. It felt like every nerve in my body was right there in his control.

And that did it.

The orgasm didn't crash into me the way it often did with other men. It seemed to begin in my thighs, clenching them tightly around his head. It brimmed and welled as my pussy clenched hard around the fullness of his fingers. My own fingers knotted into his hair as I ground against his face, riding his tongue through the moment.

I couldn't scream out, only gasp in tiny breaths, and that made me writhe and shake until he gradually pulled back, licking off his fingers and kissing my thighs.

He leaned up and kissed me, I tasted my sweet juices on his lips. He muttered, "You better get cleaned up; I think we're going to start the whole landing routine soon."

I looked into his crystal "You don't want me to...?"

"No, no," he chuckled. "As much as I'd like to, I can't get too disheveled before landing. You've already messed up my hair; wouldn't want to be too rumpled when the photographers inevitably swarm me at the airport."

"Fair enough." I took a deep breath and sighed it back out. "Well, maybe I'll see you around, then."

"Definitely. Make sure to give me office a call if you need anything while you're in school."

I nodded, still out of breath, and stood up, hiked my underwear back around my hips, and buttoned the bottom of my dress. I ducked into the bathroom to clean up and mentally switched back into work mode, wondering if I'd ever actually see him again.

-

When I arrived at my parents' sprawling rancher after landing in Cheyenne, Mom was watching the tape delay of Senator Wyatt arriving at the airport. She was as much of a fangirl as anyone. My family was very politically aware; Dad was a big campaign donor to anything that interested him and Mom somehow got an invite to every event that she could wear a gown to.

She didn't bother getting up to greet me, barely ripping her eyes away from the TV. Mournfully, she said, "God, he's looking like a mess. Hopefully those divorce rumors aren't true; it would break my heart."

"I'm sure he'll bounce back." I stifled a giggle. "You know, he was on my flight home. Got a few words with him during drink service."

That made her flip around. "Yeah? What was he like?"

I kicked off my shoes and tucked them into the hall closet. "Exactly what you'd expect. A real gentleman."

She sighed the romantic, wistful sigh of an older woman in a loveless but socially beneficial marriage. "Oh, wow."

-

Lucy and Freddy, a couple of my friends from high school, were getting married that Saturday in the city at some historic hotel.

I'd decided to dress up properly since I didn't get a lot of chances to do it. Plus, Lucy came from one of those families -- her father was practically an old-timey oil magnate with a monocle and twirled mustache, her mother had a tasteful amount of lip filler and a boob job, she did pageants and had been a contestant for Miss Wyoming, her brother would be wearing his suit from the Navy. My mom was thrilled to be invited even though five hundred people -- anyone from the area with social status -- would be there. It was black-tie.

Anyway, I wore this gorgeous dress I'd picked out weeks ago. Forest green with off-the-shoulder sleeves. It hugged my curves all the way to the mid-thigh slit, which revealed my nicely tanned summer legs. I'd even opted for my strappy stilettos and a French-tip manicure/pedicure combination. For my makeup, I went glamorous with a plum lip and false eyelashes. Glitzy, dramatic earrings and an updo that took me an hour.

We drove in Dad's Cadillac and arrived early enough to get in the front of the lot, which was very important to my father, like all fathers before him. I split off from my parents as soon as possible to sit with some of my hometown friends instead. Olivia, the girl who'd won Miss Wyoming over the bride; Jennifer, who was working her way up at Vogue in New York these days and always had a story about Anna Wintour; Marcus, queer as a three dollar bill but stuffed himself into a boring suit for events back home.

Jen leaned over as soon as I sat down. "Did you see Senator Wyatt is here?"

I took a deep breath and tried not to give off any interest, flipping through my program. "You're kidding."

"With his wife, too, even though they didn't fly in together." She said it like it was the most scandalous thing in the world.

That had me turn around to where she was pointing. And there he was: The man who'd been eating me out on a plane 48 hours ago. Next to him sat a gorgeous woman with slicked-back naturally ginger hair. Yeah, I could definitely see her sleeping with anyone she wanted to, any time. Behind both of them, standing off to the side as casually as they could manage, his small security team of big men.

Feeling eyes on him, the senator began to turn in our direction, so I whipped my head back around and trained my eyes forward.

"Oh my god," Olivia squealed, "he's looking right over here."

I scoffed, pretending that the candles at the front of the room were the most interesting thing I'd ever seen in my life. "Since when do you care about political figures, Liv?"

"I only care when they're sexy bad boys."

I rolled my eyes. "I doubt he's as much of a 'bad boy' as they're making him out to be."

"What makes you say that?"

Before I could answer, the music for the bride swelled to cut me off. Thank goodness.

The ceremony was lovely, of course. Lots of tears. Lucy's dress was a massive princess affair with a veil that trailed well down the aisle behind her; the extravagance made me think there would be a reception change of clothes. And I was right; she switched into a sleek little cocktail dress with a short veil for dancing. Freddy looked positively smitten with her every second, which was sweet.

The reception hall was as grand as they come. High vaulted ceilings, dripping crystal chandeliers, dark wood floors. Each table had massive floral centerpieces lined with candles on top of clean white linens. The definition of class despite the handful of black cowboy hats on top of tuxedos.

I spent the cocktail hour fielding questions about law school and New York and having my hand smacked away from ouer d'oeuvres by my mother. She was always quick to remind me that I used to be a size four and now I was a size twelve. Never mind that, in my view at least, I looked better than I ever had with my face filled out and my curves suited to my frame.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was practically starving to death and regretted getting the vegetarian options instead of the prime rib. Seemed like a sound decision at the time. All the speeches were pleasant and boring; everyone was on their best behavior with so many important people arranged around the room. The raciest thing that happened was the best man telling an anecdote that included premarital sex, which about half the room laughed charitably about while the other half looked at their laps for a sense of humor.

After sitting between my parents and my high school friends for an hour, I was absolutely craving a strong drink. The cake had been cut and the dancing had started; it was my best shot at getting drunk before the night was over. There was a live band and enough young people there that it picked up to almost an actual party environment.

I scoped out the walk to the bar to make sure there wasn't anybody there who would want to bond over a storied professor they'd gone golfing with or a long-passed anecdote from my childhood. That was the problem with knowing everyone in town. No privacy in public.

The path was clear but, at the end, of course, there was Senator Wyatt, sitting at the bar and nursing a beer. He was shaking hands with a whole line of respectable men and women who were thrilled, just thrilled, to meet him and had some great ideas about policy he promised to hear later on. His wife was out on the dance floor with someone I assumed she was related to by the amount of distance between them.

Senator Wyatt looked, frankly, sexy as fuck. He was in a black-on-black tux with his hair moussed up and back into a modern fresh cut. Something about a man in a suit always did it for me and it fit him impeccably. Simple, timeless, and in charge of the room.

Mom followed my gaze and gasped. "Oh my god, you should try to network with him; that's what these things are all about."

I laughed and put my napkin on the table. "Really, I thought this was all about celebrating Lucy and Freddy's eternal love?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Get over there, Ridley, I'm begging you."

"Fine; I could use a drink anyway." I stood up and added, "I promise not to get too drunk. Wouldn't want to tarnish your glittering reputation."

Mom tutted and pushed me in his direction. "And get his autograph for me if you can."

I shook my head and mumbled, "I'll certainly try."

With her eyes on my shoulders, I walked up to the bar, ordered a drink, and waited for it to appear in front of me so I could find someone to dance with for a few minutes. I planned on getting out of the wedding as soon as it was socially appropriate so that I could get some actual sleep. And I figured Senator Wyatt wouldn't want to acknowledge me at all -- except maybe for Mom's autograph -- and it would be more appropriate for me to dodge him at all costs.

I got my drink, swallowed half of it, and turned to walk back to my table.

That familiar voice found my ear and a hand touched my upper arm. "Trying to avoid me, Ms. Whitehawk?"

I turned toward him and said, "In fact I was, Mr. Wyatt."

As soon as our eyes met, I felt my pussy get wet, which was so, so ridiculous and so, so embarrassing even though there was no way he could tell. I adjusted the slit of my dress so it wasn't quite so high on my thigh. He watched my hand. Fuck.

Still looking at my hand as I raised it up to tuck some hair behind my ear, he asked, "Why would that be?"

"Seemed like you were awfully busy-" I gestured behind us "-with all your adoring fans."

"Never too busy to speak with a brilliant up-and-coming legal mind," he replied. "Would you like to dance with me?"

My mouth opened a bit in surprise but I snapped it shut quickly to avoid looking like a trout. "Dance with you? It's an election year, senator. You'll look like -- what is it they said on Fox the other night? -- an incipient womanizer."

He laughed. "I hadn't heard that one yet. And, hell, maybe I won't run again."

I scoffed, "Why not?"

He leaned in against my ear, lips nearly touching me. "Maybe I want to sleep with beautiful law students and dance with them in public and not have it be seen as a faux pas."

I murmured, "In that order?"

My mother materialized behind him and I ripped backwards, feigning small talk. "So, how do you know Lucy?"

Responding to my wide eyes, he awkwardly replied, "Ah, actually, I know Freddy. Well, his older brother, really. Played some golf together for a while. I think I was more of a show-off invite than anything. But, hey, free drinks, right?"

"Gotta love an open bar," I agreed, sipping on my whiskey sour. I cleared my throat and waved Mom over. "Senator, this is my mother, Wendy."

He kissed her hand like an old-school casanova. "I see where Ridley got her good looks."

She play-slapped him on the arm. "You flatter me."

"Never; I only ever tell the truth." He cut me a smirk and immediately lied, "I was just about to steal your daughter away to introduce her to some of my team."

I grimaced. "Networking."

Mom gushed, "Oh, how wonderful! It was such an honor to meet you, Senator."

He smiled an award-winning, photographable, voter-schmoozing smile. "Please, call me Rhett."

Blushing from head to toe, she nodded and excused herself back to my father.

Senator Wyatt laughed. "Lovely woman."

"She's madly in love with you, I think. You could probably 'take her to meet your team' any time you wanted and she'd be thrilled."

"Did you think that was a come-on?"

"It wasn't?"

He held his hands up and then finished off his beer in a deep swig. Once again, he leaned in close to my ear. The rumble of his voice right against my skin made me sigh. "Fine, you caught me. I thought maybe you'd like to, ah, catch up someplace."

It wasn't a good idea and I knew that. The rational part of my brain knew how stupid it was to stand so close to him, in public, in front of people who mattered, in a slinky dress. But the part of my brain directly connected to my throbbing cunt cared a lot less.

I finished my drink and said, "I think that could be good. Where did you have in mind?"

He suggested, "I've got a room upstairs."

"That's a little obvious, isn't it? Heading into an elevator alone with another woman?"

He eyed me up and down. "We'll take separate elevators; I'll tell my team I'm going to make a confidential business call. Tell your family you're...I don't know, need to get some air or whatever. You're smart; you'll come up with something. Sound good?"

"Is it a nice hotel room?"

"Best in town."

"Deal."

"Five minutes, room 508. Take the first elevator and I'll meet you."

Senator Wyatt ducked away from me and resumed some handshaking and farewells with his entourage. As he went to mumble in his security guards' ears, I had a shot at the bar and told my mom I was going to get some air or whatever as suggested. I honestly can't remember exactly what I said with the fog of my horniness clouding my better judgment.

A couple minutes later, I was waiting near the elevator with a respectable amount of distance between Senator Wyatt and me. He was pretending to analyze the brush strokes in a painting in the seating area nearby, occasionally glancing my direction while I glanced in his. Somehow, I doubted we were being particularly subtle, but I didn't really care. There was something so erotic and exciting about the whole situation.

My elevator came and I took a step past Senator Wyatt, careful not to look back at him or smile. I turned into the elevator, pressed the button for the fifth floor, and sucked in a deep breath. Before I could even exhale, the senator had crossed the threshold behind me. He waited until the door closed before closing the space between us, his hands instantly all over me.

Between fevered kisses, I joked, "So getting 'rumpled' on a plane is a no-go, but an elevator at a wedding is acceptable?"

He muttered against my lips, "Well, it's different when I've been thinking about that pussy of yours for two days."

I raised an eyebrow. "That memorable, is it?"

He pulled the stop button on the elevator and it halted at his command. I was surprised that no alarm went off, nor did anything else happen to signify that there was any kind of problem. The only sound was the whimper that escaped my lips when he shoved my dress up around my waist and ran his fingers under the hem of my tiny panties. A white, lacy thong that matched the unlined bra that the senator hadn't yet seen.

At the sight of my thong, he smirked. "A little virginal for you, don't you think?"

I was too busy looking up at the elevator's fisheye security camera to respond.

"Aw," he teased, "scared of a little exhibitionism? Even after our last encounter?"

I gasped as his fingers inched lower through my pubic hair. "No."

"Trust me," he said as he made contact with my clit, "I'm sure whatever poor sap has to watch these things will enjoy every second of that cute little surprised look on your face." His two fingers dipped another few centimeters to the entrance to my pussy and he chuckled. "You're so wet and I've barely even touched you."

"Well...it's, ah-"

"And can't even form a coherent sentence. How are you going to survive a courtroom, kitten?"

I gave him a half-hearted shove on the chest. "You're a real jackass, you know that?"

He removed his fingers from my panties, pulled back a step, and said, seriously, eyes searching mine, "If you don't want to do anything with me, you don't have to.

I rolled my eyes and yanked him back to me by the lapels of his suit jacket. "Oh, please. Take a joke if you're going to play all dominant."

"Play? I don't play."

Roughly and with urgency, he resumed touching me. He made forceful circles around my swollen clit and the suddenness of the contact was overwhelming. Rhett plunged his fingers inside of me and pulled against my g-spot, his palm still in the right position for me to grind against it.

With his other hand, he reached up and knotted his fingers in my hair, right at the base of my neck. He pulled my head back hard, the almost-pain shooting down my spine and only making me wetter. When my cunt clenched around his fingers, he moaned. "Jesus, baby, that pussy of yours is just...made for pleasure."

I gasped as the intensity of his touch ramped up. "Mine or yours?"

"Both, I hope." He removed the hand from my hair and reached behind himself to push the stop button back in. The elevator made its way upward again. He pulled his fingers away from my pussy and touched his wet finger to my lips. "Have a taste."

"What if the elevator opens?"

"Then you'll be caught with your dress all disheveled and my fingers in your mouth and I'll have to resign, I suppose."

I parted my lips for him without thinking, regardless of any potential consequences. He slipped his two fingers into my mouth; the sweet, slightly bitter taste of my own pussy coated my tongue. I sucked on his fingers and was rewarded by a wanting, intense, greedy look in his eyes.

"Fuck, that mouth," he sighed.

"Good idea." I gave him a wink as the elevator door opened. "Which way-"

Rhett placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me down a hallway to the Executive Suite. Two security guards stood outside the door; neither looked at me, staring straight ahead as the senator swiped his keycard. The door swung upon to reveal Wyoming's finest hotel suite -- which meant one room with a cozy California king leading to a simple living room with a flat screen and couch. I hoped that the bathroom had a jet tub and hoped even more that I might get a chance to use it. There were plenty of much nicer hotels all over the world -- I'd stayed at enough courtesy of my job -- but being here with Senator Wyatt made this one feel special.

He led me over to the bed but stopped me when I moved to sit down. He said, "You know, it just occurred to me that I haven't seen you naked yet. That seems like a damn shame. Let's get that dress off of you."

"It occurs to me-" I said as I turned around and he began to slip the zipper down my back "-that I haven't seen your cock yet. You're at a significant advantage here."

As his fingers trailed down my spine with the zipper, I shivered. He slipped the off-the-shoulder sleeves down my arms, which quickly puckered with goosebumps. He pressed a soft kiss into the crook of my neck, then down my shoulder. His lips made their way down my back as he shifted the dress off my waist and it dropped to my ankles. He stood, held me close to him for a moment, and mumbled, "Let me hang that up for you. Don't want the silk to wrinkle while I have you here."

"So chivalrous," I chuckled. He followed through, scooping my dress up on the floor and gingerly hanging it on a velvet hanger in the closet. For some reason, the gesture made me blush. "I appreciate it."

"It's important to be a gentleman when I have the opportunity." Rhett took a step back toward me, his eyes absolutely devouring every inch of me as I stood there in my already wet thong. My nipples poked through the thin mesh of my unlined bra and his gaze fixed on them. "Especially considering the filthy things I want to do to you."