Statehood

It's only 6 p.m. and the Hart building is quiet as church. The summer recess doesn't start for another day but it seems like the whole place decided to take an early weekend. Senator Aldridge is the last name on my list. I want to go home too.

I knock three times on the door to his suite. It's open but there's no one to be found. I tentatively peek my head inside.

"Hello? Is anybody here?"

A fresh-faced guy with floppy blonde hair and a $600 suit emerges from one of the offices. His steps reverberate in the silence.

"Hi there! Sorry about that, I was just finishing something up." He sticks out his hand enthusiastically. "Blaine Mitchell. Constituent Services."

"Pleasure to meet you, Blaine." We shake. "I'm Eunice Watterson with the Douglass Commonwealth Project. We're a nonprofit advocacy group promoting statehood and sovereignty for the District of Columbia."

"Oh yeah? I like those 'Taxation without Representation' license plates. They're hilarious."

I try not to roll my eyes.

"Mmm hmm, those are pretty great. Anyway, I just wanted to drop off some literature for the senator and hopefully pencil in a meeting with our executive director. One of our attorneys has a standing reservation at the Bombay Club."

Blaine pushes up his shirtsleeves and shoots me a rueful smile.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. But I can take that folder if you want."

"Is he gone for the day?"

"Yes, he left, but I meant that he's not going to read it."

"I understand, he's a busy man. I'm sure someone on staff can brief him. It's a great beach read, and I'm not just saying that because I wrote it."

"Come on. We both know Aldridge will never support that bill. You'd have an easier time getting him to vote for mandatory abortions. He's not big on Indian food, either. He says only terrorists and homos eat curry. His words, not mine."

"I wouldn't necessarily write him off just yet. He's a patriot. He just needs the right perspective. No true supporter of state rights could possibly deny God-fearing Americans like myself a state of our own."

"Listen, I'm not disagreeing with you. I just don't want you to waste your time. Besides, you're not missing much with this do-nothing Congress."

"Seriously? This isn't a joke. People die because of nullification. Gun laws. Needle exchange programs. Health benefits for LGBT couples. It matters. It matters a lot."

Blaine winces and rubs the back of his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm a piece of shit."

"No, no, it's cool. Really. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

He slams his palm against the door frame. I startle at the noise.

"No. I'm horrible."

"Stop that! It's fine, really. You were just joking around."

"You should hit me."

"What?"

"You should hit me. I deserve it."

"Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to hurt you?"

"You'd feel better."

His face is stoic but there's a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Do you want me to hit you? Is that what's happening here?"

"You do want to. Deep down."

"No."

"Do it. Hit me."

I don't know what comes over me. I slap him across the face with the back of my hand. His cheek turns bright pink, and there's a small mark from my peridot ring.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I don't what came over me. Wow. Are you okay?"

Blaine rubs his jaw and turns his face back to me.

"Harder."

I slap him again. A tingle grows in the pit of my stomach. His hair falls across his eyes. His breath quickens. I lay my folder down on the reception desk. I run my fingers across the rich mahogany.

"Beg for my forgiveness."

Blaine gets on his knees. I feel powerful.

"I'm sorry. I'm fucking scum. Punish me. Give me what I deserve."

I'm kind of embarrassed at how turned on I am. My pussy pulsates. I lean against the wall and put my leg up on his shoulder.

"Kiss my shoe."

He takes my foot in his hand and lightly touches his lips to the toe of my pump.

"Like you mean it."

He slowly licks the sole. Sucks the spike. I watch his tongue twist and surge. Sparks shoot through my body. All the blood rushes from my head.

"I want you to go down on me in your boss's office."

"Okay."

We head back. I lead the way. The office is meticulous and smells like Pledge. We leave the door open.

I get up on the desk. Spread my long legs. Blaine works his hands under my skirt. His fingers are slim and smooth. He pulls down my panties and throws them across the room. I rest my hand on his head and push him down.

He starts slow, nuzzling my thighs and teasing me with the tip of his tongue. His breath sends shivers up my body. He penetrates me with his fingers and flicks his tongue against my throbbing clitoris. I moan quietly.

Blaine throws my legs over his shoulders. I lean back on my hands and close my eyes. He sucks and bites my labia, paying attention to every fold and layer.

I dig my heels into his back and thrust. He plunges deeper. I grind into his face, over and over. The room spins. I feel dizzy.

"I'm cumming," I moan. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck me..."

He pushes me down, back against the desk, without breaking his stride. He applies pressure to the soft, tender space above my pubic mound. I grab a hank of his hair, roll my hips, and cry out in ecstasy.

Blaine gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of hand. He stares at me with a dreamy expression as I look for my underwear.

"I want you," he says.

"So do lots of people. Join the club."

"I'd do anything to have sex with you. Anything at all."

I glance back at him. He's dead serious.

"Did you mean what you said before? Are you sorry you work here?"

He looks at his shoes with a frown and doesn't answer. I hand him a pen and legal pad.

"Quit your job. Effective immediately."

"Yes, ma'am."

There's not a moment of hesitation. I watch over his shoulder as he composes the resignation letter. His handwriting is crisp and fluid.

"Put it in an envelope, but don't close it."

He obeys my command.

"Okay, time to go. Say good-bye."

I tuck my underwear inside my bag and fix my hair. Blaine turns out the lights and locks up.

"Put your key in the envelope and slide it under the door."

He does exactly what I say. I admire his ass when he bends over.

And then it's done. I grab him by the tie and pull him into the supply closet. A single light bulb dangles and sways above our heads.

I push Blaine against the wall and seize him by the balls. He holds his breath. Our eyes lock. He's waiting for me.

"Kiss me," I say.

He kisses me hard. Holds me in his arms. His body vibrates with energy.

I unzip his pants and take out his cock. It's wide and veined, and the head is pearlescent pink. It twitches in my hand as I stroke its length.

"How bad do you want me?"

"So bad. So, so bad." He bites his lip and looks me up and down. "I'll tear down every shelf and kick through the walls. I don't care."

"Is that it?"

"I'll burn the building down. Burn everything."

"And?"

"I'll punch a whale. I'll smash the moon. I'd wreck everything for you."

"Show me."

Blaine kisses me again. Passionately. He's stronger than I expected. He spins me around. Presses my cheek against the wall. My nipples tighten. He kisses the back of my neck. Bites my earlobe. My skin prickles.

"Don't move," he whispers.

I arch my back. Rub my ass against his bulge. Clockwise. Counterclockwise. Clockwise again. In one swift motion he pins my arms behind my back.

"I told you not to move."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Blaine yanks up my skirt, spits on his palm, and rubs it against my pussy. I'm already wet. He hugs me tight and glides in. I grit my teeth and brace myself with both hands.

He fucks me ravenously, and I push back into him with all my strength. Sweat drips down our bodies. The creases and seams of his clothes leave impressions on my skin.

In and out and in and out and in and in in in. He pulls out and reenters. In and out and in and out. His balls slap against my cunt. In and out and in in out in.

He picks up speed. I struggle to stand. My shoes skid and slide on the linoleum. I start to pleasure myself but he swats my fingers away.

"It's my turn."

The sensation builds and builds with no relief in sight. Blaine digs his fingernails into my flesh. He stiffens. Shudders. Collapses onto the floor. Cum drips out of me. I wipe up with my underwear and hide them under the toner cartridges.

Blaine grabs me by the wrist as I start to leave.

"Have dinner with me."

"What was that you were saying about turns? Yours is over, prep school."

"I'd do anything to have dinner with you."

"Anything?"

"Name it."

"Take off your clothes."

Blaine carefully undresses. His body is lean and muscular with hair so blonde it's almost silver. He stands up straight and waits for me to speak.

"Touch yourself."

He slowly, deliberately, jerks himself off. I watch with interest, then check my phone.

"I have one more thing to do while I'm in the building. Wait here for me."

I gather up his clothes and put them in my bag. He looks around nervously.

"Are you really coming back?"

I touch his chest with my fingertips and circle him like a shark.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"I don't know."

"Then it doesn't matter. All you have to do is stand right there and hope I don't find something better to do."

"Yes ma'am."

I flounce my hair and blow him a kiss on the way out. I look to the left. Look to the right. It's a ghost town. I smile secretively to myself and hurry to the green room.

*

Originally published in "Stories To Bang By, Vol. 50: The District"