Politics Ch. 03byhal_tee©
Chapter 3: The Plot Thickens
Erika Johansson smiled at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Had Alistair not already left for his early morning meeting with Thomas and Sally, he would undoubtedly have approved.
She held the compact mobile phone away for a moment, and shook out the silken locks she'd styled into golden waves. They bounced on her shoulders, flirting with the delicate red strap of her low cut bra. Accompanied by her plunge-thong and nude stockings with their lacy red tops, she was the perfect, blonde temptress.
Yet maybe Alistair wouldn't even notice, she pouted. He hadn't been himself over the past week, less inclined to take advantage of the 'opportunities' she was suggesting. Or even fucking her! Either his libido was on the wane, or the pressures of the looming General Election were finally getting to him. With a quick glance at into the mirror, she decided that must be the case.
"Hello?" the familiar Dutch voice answered. The blonde wondered what Guus Kessen would say if he could actually see her now! He'd certainly "appreciate" her.
The call was necessary on two counts, of course. She was never just flirting. Because of Alistair's recent behaviour, the Dutchman was an 'option' she was keen to cultivate. A girl always had to have one eye on the future, after all!
He was also essential if her plan concerning Rebecca de Santos was to work…
"Guus," she sexily murmured, only too aware there was no mistaking her sexy Scandinavian accent. "How good to hear your voice."
"You, too, Erika," the multi millionaire retorted. Even down the line, Erika could discern the warmth in his voice. "You said you'd stay in touch," he continued, "but I didn't expect to hear from you quite so quickly. And especially as early in the morning as this."
Early morning? Yes, seven thirty was early, but the Dutchman had confided his working day began at six.
"You're disappointed?" she asked.
The Dutchman's laughter floated into her ear. "On the contrary, Erika. I'm delighted. And wondering whether it's simply a social call?"
The Swedish woman's seductive laughter mingled in with his. She'd only met the multi millionaire once, but had quickly realised he wasn't one for beating around the bush. "Both," she cagily answered. "You told me you're an early riser, so I knew I'd get you. And while speaking to you is always a pleasure, I do have a business proposition that I think will appeal."
"Really?" the clipped Dutch accent responded. "I'm always interested in making money."
Erika's laugh was softer this time. "Oh, this is much better than merely making money," she told him, wondering if her assessment of the businessman would prove to be correct. It could be embarrassing if not, but the twenty-five-year-old had always been able to read people.
"Better? I'm intrigued! Do tell."
"There's someone I know…" she began, then hesitated. "More accurately, I don't know her yet. We're meeting today. The point is, this woman is looking to start a business. An aerobics business. From what I understand, all she needs is thirty thousand to make it happen, but the banks aren't interested."
"And you think I would be, Erika? Tut tut! I don't do business deals for such tiny amounts of money; it's just not worth my time. My investments make thirty grand a minute without me needing to lift a finger. I thought you were much smarter than that?"
Erika gave a soft laugh. Men continually underestimated her. The Dutchman's flirtatious ways at Conservative Party Headquarters had told her all she needed to know about his attitude to women. All she had to do was reel him in.
"Oh, I am, Guus," she softly replied, thickening her accent to its sexiest. "Believe me, I am. It's because it's what the English call pocket money that I know you'll be interested. That… and the chance to have a beautiful woman in your debt."
"You know I'll be interested?" the clipped Dutch accent retorted. "Erika, with my money, I've no problem attracting all the beautiful women I want. Another makes no difference to me. Unless it's you…"
"Guus…" she pretended to giggle, raising her eyes to the ceiling as she pulled her hair onto the top of her head. So easy… "Unless it's me? What are you suggesting?"
"I think you know," the Dutchman answered without a hint of embarrassment.
Erika smiled at her reflection in the mirror. He'd be easy enough to wrap around her finger when the time was right.
"Well, Guus… I'm very flattered! But I think you'll be excited when I tell you the name of the woman in question."
"Really? And why is that?"
"Because it's Rebecca de Santos," the Swedish beauty gleefully said, playing her trump card. She remembered the look in his eyes when he'd talked about Thomas's girlfriend. "I think this might be an attractive proposition for you, Guus. Am I right?"
"Erika," the overweight Dutchman murmured, after a brief pause. "Remind me never to underestimate you again. Tell me more—"
Since Thomas had told Becky of Erika's offer to help, the couple seemed to be in a much better place. The early starts and late evenings during his first week had stretched their relationship to breaking point, and if anything, the Conservative Party's Campaign Manager was working even longer now. Yet the possibility of achieving her dream had completely changed the picture.
While their sex life was still suffering from his long hours, that was a short-term issue, and both of them could now see that. It was only a few short weeks to the General Election, and with them both immersing themselves in their different objectives, they could temporarily put up with their sexual deprivation.
Or could they? God knew Thomas was feeling the 'need' right now! As for Becky, sex was everything. Knowing his Brazilian girlfriend, he had no doubt that her vibrator would be working overtime!
Not this morning, though.
Her meeting with Erika would be on her mind, and the need to go over all the finer points of her proposal with a view to finalising the business plan. At Erika's insistence, Becky had provided Thomas with as much background detail as she could. When he'd passed it on, the Scandinavian beauty had told him she'd read it all, and that she was lining up a financial backer.
Shit, with Becky's hopes raised as much as they were, he hoped it worked out!
"Okay, guys," Alistair said, breezing through the glass conference door and dropping his file of papers onto the long glass table "Pour me a coffee, Sally, would you?" he asked, sitting down beside them. It was his preferred seat, back to the window. No distractions.
The redhead smiled. "Want one?" she asked Thomas, pouring two cups when he nodded. "Coasters," she said, taking the cups to the table.
"Tiffany or Conservative Party crest?" Thomas asked with a grin. The two options had become a running joke between them. He'd noticed she'd become flirtier with him as they got to know one another. Not that he encouraged it, of course. Still, it helped the days pass a little more quickly.
"Let's go Tiffany this morning," she laughed, plonking down the mugs before pouring herself a tea. She hated coffee.
"Okay," Alistair started, taking the coffee and pulling a face as he took a sip. "God, that's strong. Have you guys seen the breaking Daily Telegraph story on expenses? This whole bloody thing is going to blow up in our faces if we're not careful."
"It looks like it's the government on the receiving end…" Sally began.
"For now," Thomas said. "It'll come our way, too."
"That's right," Brinkley-Jones agreed. "I've sent some stuff to both of you, just make sure you get up to speed. Right now, I really don't have long," he continued. "I have a shit of a day ahead."
"Okay. You want to start without Erika?"
"Where is she?"
Thomas looked at Sally and shrugged his shoulders. She pulled a face. "Want me to find her?"
The black politician waved a hand in the air. "No, let's wait. You guys are sure this debate is a good idea?"
Sally and Thomas surreptitiously exchanged glances as Alistair rummaged through his papers. The party political debate had been set up for a while now. Hell, they were flying to Belfast tomorrow morning.
"It's a good idea," Thomas carefully began. "We're still a couple of points down in most opinion polls. We need the extra push. Besides, you'll be great at this face-to-face stuff—"
"It always dances around the real issues," Alistair interjected. "Becomes more personal, less about what's important. I can get my points over much better in a solo session or an interview..."
Thomas glanced at Sally again. This was unlike the confident politician. Something was troubling him. Maybe there was more to this Daily Telegraph story than he'd thought?
"Alistair," Thomas said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the glass table. His tone brooked no argument. "You're made for this. You're a better public speaker than either Blair or Collinson. More charismatic. Your views and ideas are much superior, and you bring a freshness that people love. The public will get a feel for how passionate you can be, and they'll understand how much you believe in what you're doing. How much you believe in Britain."
"You think so?"
"Absolutely," he answered, "Televised public appearances like these can make all the difference. We get the maximum audience. With the forthcoming Newsnight interview and the televised appearance in Scotland, we're building up nicely."
"Okay," the politician conceded, rising to his feet. "Look, I have a few calls to make. Find Erika and we'll go through what to expect. I don't want to walk into tomorrow morning's debate without being fully briefed. Back in here in half an hour. Okay?"
Sally stared after him as he left and then turned her gaze back on Thomas. "Geez, I've never seen him in that mood before," she sighed.
"Something's on his mind," Thomas muttered. "We'd better check our in trays and get up to speed on that expenses story."
Sally eased herself up from her chair and bent forward to kiss him on the top of his head. "And I haven't seen that side of you, either, Thomas. Very persuasive. I'm impressed!"
Thomas felt his cock twitch as the redhead slid her pert breasts against his shoulder. Damn. He really had to create some quality time with Becky…
At seven thirty in the morning, Eduardo Dias glanced out of the paned front windows as he opened his small café. He was late. Katie had sat in her car for a good ten minutes, trying to convince herself not to go through with this.
In the end, she couldn't stop herself.
She'd sucked three cocks in her masturbatory fantasy that had lasted most of last night. They belonged to Brian Sterling, Alistair Brinkley-Jones, and the sixty-year-old café owner.
The first two were out of bounds. Eduardo wasn't…
It took her only a few seconds to lock her car, and then hurry across the road. There was no turning back. That destructive force inside her needed this like she needed food and drink. Her body wouldn't operate without it.
"Miss Katie!" the surprised South American greeted her as she quickly entered and leant back against the closed door. "Where have you been? I no see you for a week now! You always say when you on holiday!"
She ran a hand through her chestnut coloured hair, trying to control the breath that came in short pants. "I haven't been on holiday, Eduardo," she breathlessly told him. "I… I can't get breakfast here anymore. My… my employers… they prepare breakfast for me now."
The small, South American owner paused. The cappuccino machine could wait. His brow creased in pain, as if she'd slapped him across the face. "I no see Miss Katie again?"
"I… I came to thank you," she answered, unable to move. She leaned back against door, needing the support.
"Thank me?" He looked close to tears.
"For all you've done," she explained, knowing from the way his eyes dropped to her tits that her thick nipples were hard and fully on display against her cream blouse. "I wanted to… thank you…"
The sixty-year-old man nodded, his mind appraising the situation and her words. That was twice she'd said that. She'd left her suit jacket in the car and her thin, pale arms were laid bare by the sleeveless blouse. Resting against the door like that, she looked lost. And incredibly sexy.
The sudden gleam in his eyes told Katie that the penny had dropped. She'd thought this was going to be difficult. Wondered if she could go through with it, even. The light in his dark eyes was as frightening as it was reassuring.
He picked up a grubby white towel and slowly wiped his hands on it before dropping it back onto the worktop. Leaving the confines of the counter area, he slowly walked around to her position by the door. "How you thank me?" he asked. "How you thank me, Miss Katie?"
The psychiatrist didn't reply. Her heart was thumping like a jackhammer on concrete. She couldn't find her voice over the noise. The café owner took her non-response as approval. He nodded and with a single movement, reached behind her and clicked the lock.
Keeping his small eyes on her apprehensive face, he took her hand, pulling her with him into the small stockroom at the rear of the café.
His movements changed as they entered the tiny room, like a lion realizing he'd stumbled upon a helpless gazelle. He could feel her hand shake in his grip. Feel her palms grow clammy. This beautiful woman was hot for him. He had no idea why, but as he watched her long, dark lashes bat nervously up at him, he knew his instincts were true.
And besides, he didn't care why she felt that way. It was enough that she did.
With one swift motion, he grabbed her slim wrists and forced them above her head, as if worried she might have a sudden change of mind. With a snarl of arousal, he pushed her back against the grubby wall and jammed his lips against her voluptuous mouth. Raising a foot, he kicked the door beside them half closed, the sound of it rattling against the frame as it rebounded.
His searching mouth didn't ease until she was grasping for breath. His hands released her wrists and attacked her blouse, yanking it from her dark grey skirt. Disappearing under the garment, he roughly dragged up the cups of her bra and cupped her jutting swells.
Katie closed her eyes as his cold fingers teased her breasts. It was his cock she wanted, but his eagerness felt so good that she was willing to wait. He pushed her blouse up higher, exposing the fullness of her creamy tits. The small South American dipped his head to suck in a hard nipple. She let out a gasp of joy, which quickly turned to a grunt as his hands roamed under her skirt.
Her body arched into his touch. She spread her thighs, giving his callused fingers access to the treasure between her legs.
The panting man's lips switched nipples. "Ngh!" The moan that tore from her throat sounded almost painful. He was sucking so hard that she buried her hands in his greasy black hair and pulled him closer.
She adored the moment when a man succumbed to the need for her body that first time. Was it the power that overwhelmed her? The delight she took in his frenzy when he was completely unable to contain himself?
The moment had come. She wanted his hardness, wanted it in her mouth.
But… the way his hand had dragged her thong to one side… the way he rubbed his fingers along her wetness! God, it was proving too much. Wait, she insisted to herself. Don't do this. I'm the one in control. I'm the one who wants to devour your 'snake,' feed on your salty seed!
Katie couldn't stop him. Didn't want to stop him. She so needed this…
His fingers found her swollen button, nestled in the bed of her dark curls. That was all it took. He didn't even need to penetrate her to make her cum like a fountain being turned on for the first time, after a winter of rest. For a moment she clung tightly to him, using his small, slender body to stay on her feet as the orgasm ran through her body. Her knees buckled. She groaned. She savoured the violent orgasm, allowing it to consume her.
Then she was sliding to her knees…
He'd already released himself from the confines of his blue jeans. He was smaller than she expected—and not as thick—but she didn't care. Her mouth took him inside with an urgency that had been missing for too long. When his hands dug into her soft hair, she began to mouth-fuck him.
She could feel his shaft push against the sides of her throat as she slid her pink lips all the way down to the base and back up again. When the café owner grunted as she worked on him, another orgasm began to brew inside her. Katie didn't care about the niceties; she wanted that seed. Her eyes danced upwards into his, revelling at the contorted look on his face. A look that she, an eminent psychiatrist, was creating!
"Stop, Miss Katie," he grunted, gripping her hair more tightly. "Please… stop…"
She knew why. The old bastard wanted to fuck her. That was one pleasure she wouldn't allow! His hands gripped her hair more tightly, trying to pull her head away. They were in their own private battle, Katie racing him towards his orgasm, Eduardo desperately trying to resist.
Her large brown eyes stared up into his again. He had no chance! With just the crown of his cock in her wet embrace, she swirled her tongue across the hypersensitive ridge. He groaned, releasing her. She plunged her mouth back onto his ramrod stiffness, deep-throating him again. He was throbbing. He was there now. There was no escape.
She paused and raised her head one final time, a string of saliva dangling between her lips and the tip of the glistening mushroom-shaped head. She stroked his shaft, masturbating him with her hands. Short jerking movements. He began to pulsate.
It was enough.
Eduardo's body jerked. As his snake prepared to spit its venom, she jammed her mouth back on him. Just in time. His creamy seed surged between her greedy lips, her mouth sucking in everything he could offer. She swallowed like it was manna from heaven, gratefully taking every last burst. Her hands continued to pump his shaft until he had nothing left to give.
As the sixty-year-old crumpled back against the wall, eyes closed, knees bent, the beautiful psychiatrist began to regain her senses. Oh, God!
Eduardo heard rather than saw the door to the stockroom open. When he somehow squinted through cum-fuelled eyes, all he saw was Miss Katie pushing through the outer door and rushing into the street.
She didn't look back. She didn't dare. The fuel of arousal was still reverberating through her body. Catching her reflection in a shop window, she realised why passers-by had been glancing at her. Stopping in an as yet unopened shop doorway, she adjusted her state of undress as best she could.
She'd tell them she'd tripped and fallen when she reached her office.
Looking down to see a small blob of cum on one of the buttons of her blouse, she took it on her fingertip and fed it between her full lips. One day, her secret could destroy her career. But a stranger's creamy cum tasted so good, so thrilling, she feared that she'd never be able stop.
Alistair gulped down the last of his lunchtime sandwich and took a couple of minutes to reflect. His hour-long telephone conversation with Brian Sterling earlier that morning had been a tough one. So was the Scot's suggestion. But his mind certainly felt more settled for having had the discussion.
Erika had been intrigued when he'd told her to create a gap in his diary that afternoon. It meant he was putting off Tom Broadhurst again. The Deputy Secretary for the Environment was frothing at the mouth at the need to discuss his strategy for cleaning up the riverbanks.