"Right Place, Wrong Time"

[Tony2015]

"Right Place, Wrong Time"​

I check my watch again -- sixteen after six -- and look three hundred and sixty degrees about me again. The parking garage is devoid of other humans, which would normally be good, considering why I am here. But, the one human who is supposed to be here isn't.

Then, I hear her. I hear her before I see her, heels clicking on the concrete and echoing off the thick walls. I wait until I can see her, assure myself that it must be her, and exit the rented Lincoln Towncar.

She sees me as I round the vehicle and stops. I open the rear door and tell her in a soft but serious tone, "You're late. I only have--" I glance at my watch again and finish, "--forty minutes."

Her expression and hesitation should tell me that she's not the call girl who was due here twenty minutes ago. But my yearning for physical release is overwhelming my good sense, so I gesture her to the back seat and say with a slight touch of impatience, "Thirty nine..."

 

[justmethatswho]

The last six months had not been kind to Tiffany Lawson as her husband had left her and because of his affair, she had lost her job as a law clerk. She had applied for several positions around town and all had talked to her ex-husband a well known lawyer in town. Needless to say her quest for work was coming up empty.

That is how she found herself here, a friend had referred her to the restaurant upstairs, and borrowed her an outfit for the interview. The interview had not gone well in her mind. She now felt a bit silly in the dress and the heels which made walking difficult. Though with each step she was reminded by her own echoes.

When she first heard the man, she paused wanting to look around as if to ask "Who me?" yet it was clear he was talking to her. What did he want? She wondered but it was easy to piece what he wanted together. She was desperate herself.

"Yes I am so sorry .... I should have allowed myself more time." She stopped, acting like he should know who she is even when she did not anticipate what he was expecting.

 

[Tony2015]

"Yes I am so sorry," she says "I should have allowed myself more time."

I wait for her to enter the car, but she remains where she is. I raise an eyebrow with an expression of expectation, gesture toward the back seat, and say with a low volume, "Well, it is all about time isn't it? I'm not paying for that time to watch you stand around in a public parking garage. So..."

I gesture again toward the back seat and look around again for any potential onlookers. I chose this parking structure for its security and solitude. After 6pm, the general public can't access the lower parking levels, which are for government parking only. That's why I am so certain that this leggy beauty is here to provide my afternoon delight, because she can't access this level otherwise ... or ... so I think.

Little do I know that the rookie security guard downstairs -- who'd thought she was hot and had fantasies about getting her number on her way out -- had allowed her to park on the lower levels. It's mistakes like this that bring down Congressmen like myself. Of course, by the time that I realize the error, it won't matter anymore.

 

[justmethatswho]

I stand still, though the man's voice is demanding and clear. He wants me to sit in the back of his car. Sill I pause, his voice and look are a bit familiar though I cannot place him.

I look to my left and right, then I approach the car. Again I pause hesitating, I look in my purse quickly seeing my cell phone. Though it does not even make calls as the bill is unpaid. I don't even have money to pay for my parking.

Desperate ... I think ... I ... oh my how desperate I am. Without thinking I move to sit on the back seat, my backside sits, as I do the dress hikes up a couple inches most certainly reveling my white tiny thong.

"Hi ... do you ...." I pause not even sure what I am asking for and soon again without thinking my legs swing into the back seat. Surely he must know by now this is not the type of woman I am. Still I force a smile as I sit back.

 

[Tony2015]

"Hi ... do you ...."

As I watch, I realize that she thinks I want to fuck her. I gesture her feet to the floor, then -- as I shed my suit jacket -- I tell her, "That's okay. Your mouth will be just fine this time around."

I slide in beside her, scooting to the middle and setting my jacket over the back of the front seat. I unbuckle, unsnap, and unzip my pants, telling her, "I already moved the seats forward ... to give you some extra room on the floor."

I look to the middle of the floor, where the drive shaft cover divides the rear floor into two. I have always loved cars driven by the back wheels, rather than the front. I always loved the feel of the carpeted drive drive cover under my ass and against my scrotum as I fucked a girl in the back seat. And of course the drive train cover is practically a cock sucking chair, isn't it, perfect for an energetic whore to sit upon while she polishes my nobber.

I lift my ass and pull my slacks and boxers down. My cock pops out. It's not the biggest in the world, but it isn't small either. Whether she thinks it's large or small, there is one thing it surely is: hard and hungry.

 

[justmethatswho]

My Mouth, I think, what about my mouth. For a moment I want to open the door and simply get out, why did I sit in his car, why didn't I simply tell him I had no idea what he wanted. He looks to the floor as if hinting I should move to the floor, but what good will that do. Then I see him begin to shift, soon unzipping his pants, and freeing his cock.

My mind stirs, he is going to ... me. I have no idea who he is ... the men I have been with I can count on two fingers. yet I look down and see his stiff cock, stiff for me. Honestly deep inside, there is pleasure in that for me. He shifts forward.

I move as he had hinted, finding myself kneeling on the floor of the large back seat, the fit is still tight. I should have taken my shoes off as the heels arch my feet, yet I did not.

If he would look at my face he would realize I have no idea what he wants from me even though I am kneeling before him, his cock at attention inches from my lips.

 

[Tony2015]

Still presuming the woman to be the call girl for whom I'd sent, I casually instruct, "You can keep the teasing and toying to a minimum. Just take it all in ... long and slow. I'll tell you when I want you to speed up ... to make me cum."

I look to her face -- to her eyes -- and I see ... hesitation. I see no reason for pause: the whore I was promised has years of experience. And the Madam assured me that she was very skilled at and comfortable with 'deep throating', so my only slightly larger than average sized cock shouldn't cause her concern.

Another thought comes to me, and I reassure her, "Your agency has a copy of my latest physical. I'm clean. You can swallow without concern."

I glance to my watch again, then say politely, "But ... I am on a schedule, so..."

 

[justmethatswho]

From his comments I it is clear what he is suspecting. I think for a moment how I was dressed, how I had told my friend it was to out there for me beyond my comfort zone, how the bra would make my breasts look huge and catch too much attention. How the dress was so tight that It would hide nothing.

Yet now I was kneeling on the back seat of this strangers car, he was obviously someone of power it was easy to pick that up. Now I feared not pleasing him, my eyes looked into his as I heard his words, to him I was nothing but someone to suck his cock, yet I did not know him what about disease I wondered.

Still he persisted, about medical checkups, I felt if I stopped he would force me to suck it. Still his cock now looked huge in my eyes, sucking cocks was something I had avoided, well overall sex in general I had avoided. Yet now to him I was simply a sex toy, for his pleasure, he cared nothing of my own. Then again sex had rarely been a pleasure for me.

I had no choice or at least that is what I told myself as my head bowed down, my lips parted and I touched it, his warm cock was in my lips. I moved down slightly and back up, repeating the action, taking more in each time. As he requested I kept a constant pace. To help steady and make sure his cock did not fall free I moved my hand first touching his balls.

My mind screamed. "What are you doing sucking this strangers cock." I felt so dirty.

 

[Tony2015]

She continues to be hesitant, and -- being a skeptical and suspicious person by nature -- it occursto me that I have been duped. This whore isn't the well trained servant I'd been assured she was. As I feel her lips carefully playing about my swollen bulb and her fingers clumsily fondling my balls, I have the urge to kick her out of the car and simply go to my Committee meeting unsatiated.

But I don't. Instead, I ask bluntly, "You are new to this, yes?"

I don't have the patience for amateurish blow jobs, so I urge her up out of my lap and demand, "Shed your panties. We'll do this the other way."

I hadn't wanted intercourse because it involved more shedding of clothes and possible perspiration, for either of us. But I simply can't face the idea of a six hour long meeting which will, in the end, produce no positive results, without first blowing my load in a dark, damp, warm hole.

 

[justmethatswho]

It must show I am not good at this, as I hear the anger in his voice. For a moment I consider confessing, that yes in fact I have never done this before, that I had been here simply looking for my car.

Yet for a moment, I push my head deep upon his cock, trying to please him trying not to anger him. Then I here him tell me to remove my panties, he wants to screw me. I stop and look up and realize who he is. He is one of the most powerful men in the city, no the country.

I convince myself I have no choice, but to let him take me. My hands move down pushing my panties down, first to my thighs, then past my knees, still I try to tease his cock with my lips. The thongs gets stuck on my heels but I look up at him, and begin to crawl on the seat to straddle only the third man in my life that will make love to me ... but this is not making love, this is simply screwing me.

Again i want to confess who I really am. But all my lips can say is ... "I am sorry." For a moment I feel like a failure, like so much of my life has been. Then as my legs part, I feel my own heat, my pussy soaked at the idea of this stranger screwing me.

 

[Tony2015]

"Don't be sorry," I say with the tone of a father chastising his son for leaving the hedge trimmers out in the rain. "Just it right."

As she straddles my thighs, I reach to her legs, caressing them a bit before sliding my hands up them to grasp her buttocks. She feels good ... great. Firm and warm in my hands, well rounded. My wife never felt this good, at any age. Of course, I married Susan for her family's wealth not her body ... wealth that, combined with my political connections and ambitition, vaulted me rapidly to a leadership position of great power and influence.

I try to forget that part of my life as I maneuver my lower body under this whore. I feel her wetness and warmth at the head of my cock and murmur, "Nice."

I clutch her ass tighter and pull her forward. I 'miss', the tip of my cock -- now wet with her juices and saliva both -- sliding over her clit. I see her reaction and repeat the movement four or five times. I know that this encounter is about my own pleasure, but I am a man, of course, which means I have an ego as well as a need. I like to see my lover -- paid or otherwise -- enjoy herself, too.

But I am limited for time, so I pull my cock back again, probe until I find her hole, and push...!

 

[justmethatswho]

I feel him holding me, as my legs are spread the tight dress is gathered at my waist. He is going to screw me, I realize this is inevitable. He moves back and forth, his cock feels hot as it teases my clit. I bit my lip in anticipation of what is coming. I know how long it has been since I have had sex, it has been well over a year. When he pushes into me my pussy will be tight, it may hurt. Still I tilt my head back and moan softly, trying to urge myself down, to ease him in. Yet he is in control.

I wonder why I am doing this, it is wrong, terrible, something I do not do. I could scream and make him stop, though I do nothing of the sort. I allow him to manipulate my willing body. Is this really my desire, do I want this man who does not even care what my name is to screw me.

"mmm yes." I whisper. "Screw me" I say in hopes he will finish soon.

Then I feel my body shift, his cock penetrating my tight pussy. I let out a moan, hoping in his mind it is a pleasurable moan. I think to myself how terrible I am, how wrong this is.

 

[Tony2015]

I am surprised at how tight she is. Too tight, if those words can be used together during an act of intercourse. She doesn't allow me inside her without serious pressure. Most of the Agency's girls only fuck once or twice a week, so I've come across tight pussies before, but ... Jesus, penetrating her is like ramming my cock into a Coke bottle.

"Mmm yes," she whispers. "Screw me."

"Save it," I murmur casually. "I've been here before.

A professional would understand that I don't need the play by play about how good I'm making her feel. I'm not some John with his first street walker, who wants to believe that he's giving his whore something no John has ever given her before.

Of course, while I believe that this particular call girl is newer than Madam Mimi led on, I am still at least under the believe that she is, indeed, a call girl.

Suddenly, I penetrate her, groaning deeply as I feel my cock sink into her warm, wet hole. She only allows a few inches of me inside, the bulb at the end of my seven inches coming up against her cervix. I quickly begin stroking to and fro what length of my shaft I can. Each stroke goes a bit deeper as her internals relax and adjust to the intrusion.

"My god..." I murmur. "My god ... you feel great."

It is only now that I truly look into the woman's face, beginning to study her reactions and expressions. I see something I don't expect. I see ... what is it ... I don't know. It ... it simply seems different...

 

[justmethatswho]

He scolds me for encouraging him, to him my body is simply a commodity for him to seek pleasure, I feel as though he has no care in the world for me other than pushing his cock into me. Finally, my tight pussy accepts this man, this powerful man, mot completely yet enough to secure his place inside of me.

My eyes are still closed, as a man screws me, a man I do not even know, a man I met less than 15 minutes ago. What type of woman am I, what type of woman would allow this. This is not who I am, though I recall looking at myself in the mirror before I left today, this is the type of woman I saw in the mirror.

I open my mouth a bit, releasing my teeth from biting my lip. With each breath my breasts heave, each time he rocks me, my breasts are more exposed. I hope he cums soon, then I will be done or so I hope.

I have to see him, I do not want to forget, my lovers, lovers are supposed to etched in your soul. My eyes open, I see him, he appears much older than I am, as I feel his hands still on my ass. It seems clear his only objective is to screw me. He makes no effort to kiss or pleasure me besides screwing me. I feel like an object, I wonder if he will recall me after this, will he remember me in a year, in five, as for he will always haunt my thoughts.

To my surprise, he compliments how good it feels. The pain of my tight pussy has gone, yet I feel him, but little more. I was never a woman to orgasm easily. Still I try to smile, though I can see by his look he knows .... he knows I am not who I should be.

I want to tell him .. fuck me and finish ... yet I stay silent, my eyes closing, as I move up and down upon him at a pace he sets, my breasts pushing against him, rising close to his face.

 

[Tony2015]

As I slowly increase the speed and depth of my strokes, I watch her face intently. There's something there. I know it. I wonder if she is even newer than I imagine. No. Mimi wouldn't have sent me a rookie without telling me. Some clients like to break in the new recruits. Me, I like an experienced mouth -- or in this case pussy -- that will bring to me the 15 minutes of pleasure, satisfaction, and release that makes up for the remaining 10,065 minutes in the week.

I am penetrating her fully now, my entire shaft sinking deep inside her perfection. I don't remember the last time I enjoyed intercourse this much, and I begin to wish we were in a downtown hotel, rather than the back seat of a motor pool sedan.

As she rocks atop me, I lower my gaze to her incredible breasts. I assume they are fake -- par for the industry in these times of bigger is better -- but even so, I wish I could see them ... touch them ... kiss them ... suckle them...

But ... I'm there. I try to slow the progression of my orgasm, not yet wanting the pleasure to end. But grasping her buttocks and pulling her body firmly to my own, I give out a great grunt of satisfaction as my cock begins leaping inside of her...

 

[justmethatswho]

I see him look at my eyes, I can tell he sees who I truelly am, yet all I can do is return a nervous smile. His pace has increased, he must be close, I panic in the moment. It has been so long ... so long since sex ... gawd no ... no.... no. i feel his cock tremble inside my walls as he pulls me close, there is no escape. I feel his trembling cock inside of me, I bury my face into his shoulder, by breasts pushing fully into him. My breasts I think a gift to myself after my divorce, a gift to make me feel better, more like a woman. Yet I can tell from his gaze I am little more that a toy. He has no idea of my intellect, my masters degree. Worse he dose not care.

I feel the hot gush into my pussy, filling me. I want to cry. I know better ... I am not on birth control. Each hot thrust of his seed fills me reminding me, the timing could not be worse for, 11 days into my cycle, i am fertile. "please God" I pray silently.

 

[Tony2015]

I let my head -- swimming in the euphoria -- fall back upon the top of the seat as the moans continue to accompany the twitching in my groin. She has gone still in my lap, having received no instructions from me as whether to continue or let me revel in my climax.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I can even hear the rush of blood in my ears. It's been some time since I came this hard from intercourse, and -- despite the sheen of sweat building on my not-quite-fit-enouth body -- I'm thrilled that I decided to forgo the earlier blow job.

When I've enjoyed all the pleasure I have time for, I tell her with a soft voice, "I enjoyed that ... very much. I'd like to see you again soon ... for the evening ... Saturday if you aren't already booked."

I pull my hips back, and as my slowly softening cock slides out of her, I add, "The money is on the front seat."

On the front passenger seat of the Lincoln is a manilla envelope. In the unlikelihood that I would ever need a cover story, the words 'Boy Scout Fund Contribution' are typed on one side. Inside it are three one hundred bills, the standard fee for a skilled blow job by one of Mimi's girls.

 

[justmethatswho]

My world is swirling more than the this powerful strangers seed in my womb. Any pleasure from the sex was halted at the thought of pregnancy. I felt him lay his head back as my head was still buried in his.

His cock still in me, I thought how I changed int he last year, the changes my friend had convinced me to make, the breast implants which were suppose to give me small c-sized breasts, yet my friend changed the form to d-size with out me knowing util it was done. It was shortly after the implants I was let go from my job. My hair, once light brunette was now blonde. Blondes have more fun right. If that means getting screwed int the back seat than yes.

I hear his compliment as if that is suppose to give me assurance all was ok, yet the words burned, maybe he told all his girls that. Still I pulled back, so he could see my soft smile.

"Again ... I paused .... but how will you find me." I ask thinking how stupid I must sound. I slide back off his cock, which is now only semi rigid, and move to the seat to his right, as I do I pull my dress down, but now before, I inadvertently display my freshly shaven pussy glistening from sex. Still I quickly pull my dress down.

He tells me of the envelope and I reach over the seat to pick it up. I pause not wanting to. In my mind it is one thing to have sex with strangers, that makes a woman a slut, yet to be paid, well that makes her a whore. Even though I do not want to pick up the envelope I do, I read what is written. "Maybe it should say girl scout cookies" I laugh nervously at my own joke. I look at him and look inside seeing the three hundred. Then I look back at him a bit surprised. In my mind I know what I am now.

As I sit wondering, that this was suppose to be a blow job, shouldn't screwing me be more.

 

[Tony2015]

(OOC: I throw one of my many future little twists in below. It's subtle, but fun. I will tell you that this story takes place a couple of years from now.)


"Again?" She pauses. "But how will you find me."

I don't question her meaning: I am still so lost in the pleasure of the great fuck. Normally, my date -- one of Madam's girls -- would have responded something to the effect of I'll wait for your call or I'll let Mimi know. But she has no knowledge of the woman for whom I think she works.

"Maybe it should say girl scout cookies."

I smile, but don't respond. I know she's trying to be funny, and -- actually -- the quip was indeed funny and nearly drew an inappropriate comment from me. But despite my powerful position in the government, I know too well that to be caught in the back seat of a government car with a hooker would end my career. Because of this, my funny bone becomes a bit flaccid during such encounters, just as my cock has become over the last moments.

I remember how new she seemed to be as she blew me and wonder whether she understands the implication of making appointments without Mimi's knowledge. Punishment for betraying the madam is harsh, but -- as I am so ironically unaware -- this woman doesn't work for the vindictive bitch.

I reach to my jacket, slung over the back of the front seat, and pull out my wallet. I select my government printed business card and offer it to her, unconcerned with the fact that it identifies me as Congressman Robert Robertson.

Even if I had realized that this woman wasn't who I thought she was -- the call girl who hadn't shown because she'd been caught up in a prostitution sweep just two hours before we were supposed to meet -- I know that my identity isn't going to be secret to her for long. My bill on Education Reform is quickly becoming the most important issue in Washington, and as it does, I am spending more time on television talk shows and in nightly news sound bites than the President-elect herself.

I offer her the card, saying, "Call me with your contact number. I'll set something up with Mimi on my own."

As I pull my boxers and slacks back into place, knowing that I will have to change before the committee meeting -- I continue, "Saturday night, 9pm. I have a room -- 1212 -- booked at The Regent. Wait in the lobby. I'll send someone down for you."

I look about the car before I scoot to the door and open it. I again look for prying eyes, but as I expect see none. I offer her a hand as I smile -- sincere, not feigned -- and tell her, "Really. I enjoyed this very much."

 

[justmethatswho]

I sit nervously as he speaks, hearing most of what he is saying. I shuffle and notice I have not put my thong back on but as I look cannot see it, as the thong was pushed under the seat as he screwed me. Still in shock by what just happened even more so after he hands me his card. I had heard of him as it was hard not to.

"Saturday. umm sure." I respond, figuring I will just not show up. "He mentions a Mimi whom I have no idea who she is. I do not know any Mimi's. The only Mimi I have heard of is my friend who has a bitchy boss named Mimi.

I take his card and read it, confirming he is a congressman. Why I did it I do not know but I handed him a card. "I am Tiffany by the way." as I hand him the card, stating my name and cell phone number. The cards are from when I was a law clerk doing research and contain only my name and cell phone number.

"It may be best to contact me." I tell him. Hundreds of times I have given men false numbers at bars, and could have done so here and disappeared, he would never know who I was. Why did I give it to him. I could have smiled and walked away. Gawd I am so stupid I think.

 

[Tony2015]

"I will," I respond to her suggestion that I call her instead. I help her out of the car, wish her nice day -- which I know sounds corny coming from the client she just fucked -- and drop into the Towncar as she walks away.

I'm running late now that I have to shower in my office bathroom before going to the committee room. But I can't help but watch after her as she heads away. That ass and those legs, already perfectly sculpted but also emphasized by the tall heels, make me wish I could put off the Country's business and spend the day sweating against her in never ending passion.

I don't typically yearn for one of Mimi's girls like this. But ... there's just something about this woman, something that goes far beyond her erotic looks.

I leave, rush through the meeting as quickly as I can, and return home for dinner with my wife and college age children, all of whom live at home with us by my insistence. I masturbate in the shower to the memory of the parking garage goddess, and while I cum, my orgasm is very unsatisfying.

The next morning, I'm on the phone early, already preparing for Saturday night. I confirm the hotel room, which is in a Campaign Contributors name, thus protecting me. I arrange for dinner, champagne, and strawberries, something that always makes me think of that scene from 'Pretty Woman' because the only time I ever order the duo I'm with a prostitute. And after I remember how good 'Tiffany' looked, I use a burner phone to send her a text with the nights plans and the address of one of Washington's most exclusive women's clothing boutiques, where the Manager knows I like long, form fitting dresses and sexy undergarments.



I'm at the room early, already out of my jacket and tie and on my second Scotch before there is a knock at the door...

 

[justmethatswho]

I could not look back as I left as I did not want him to see my tears. As I heard him leave I found my car and got in, itting there, debating what I had just done. I sat for over an hour, then Holli called, asking how the interview went. I told her I did not think it went well and ended the conversation with "Thanks to the way you dressed me I got a tip in the parking lot though .. I gotta go." I said angry with her for doing this to me. I needed someone to blame.

Arriving at home I took a long bath, trying to soak away the memory still it hurt, what had I done. It was late now and I went to bed, though the dreams of the congressman haunted me. The next day I laid around in sweats and baggy clothing, hating myself. That afternoon I went to the pharmacist for a morning after pill. I did not want to be pregnant.

Then the message came, I ignored it at first not recognizing the number before finally looking at it. It was from him, I was suppose to go to a boutique and meet him Saturday at the best hotel in town.

I was not going ... I could not go ... I had convinced myself before reminding myself how powerful he was. Did I have a choice.

...

The boutique was expensive, though as I arrived, the attendant seemed to be expecting me, bringing me to a private room, were I tried on several dresses. I told her I probably could not afford this, then she told me there is an account set up for me and not worry about it. I let her pick the right dress.

......

Saturday morning I went for a jog, trying to ease my stress. once home I showered ... did I really want to do this ... no ... did I have a choice ... truth was I did .. but could not admit it to myself.

...

I drove my car to the station and took the train into to town. I was already dressed and looked quite out of place. The train stop was only a block from the hotel, I entered the doorman smiled, but not as if I was a guest, he knew why I was there. I found the bar, my purse empty I asked for a glass of water. The money from the other day, was spent on gas, bills and food. I stood sipping my water looking at my phone as looking for an answer to what I do next.

Dress

Heels

 

[Tony2015]

"You're not one of Mimi's girls."

When the woman who had told my boss her name was Tiffany looked from her drink to me, I leaned in closer and said softly, "I called her ... and she apologized for her girl not being able to keep her appointment the other day."

A waitress passed by. I waited until she was out of ear shot, takjng a moment to ogle the young beauty. It was understandable why the Congressman had such an interest in this woman. She was simply incredible.

I leaned in close enough to breath in her intoxicating scent and whispered, "Which leads to the question ... who are you ... and what are you hoping to gain from this little ruse of yours."

 

[justmethatswho]

There was that name "Mimi" again. I turned and looked at the man, not recognizing who he was..

"I don't know any Mimi's .... girl ... what ... sorry buddy ... but I have no idea what you are talking about."

I begin to get up to move, but the crowd and heels limit my movement as I see the man looking like I am some piece of meat.

I had no idea who the man was as i pulled back a bit catching the bartenders attention as he started to move over.

"Look you jerk .. I have no idea who you are or what you are asking ... as for what am I doing it is none of your interest."

As the bartender approached to see if everything was ok he looked to the man for assurance as if I was not even there. I was more intellectual than both of them combined, yet in their eyes it was clear they saw some bimbo.

"hey if you will excuse me .. I am waiting for my date?" I say and make my way to the ladies room and touch up my makeup and return to the bar finding a quiet place to stand and wait or so I think.

 

[Tony2015]

(OOC: Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to the bathroom ... the girl's bathroom. )

I watch her walk away without speaking or trying to stop her. People in here know me: the bartender for one, but other Politicos, Staff Members, and whores. The last thing the Congressman would want is for me to identify beyond a doubt who this beautiful woman was here to meet ... and fuck. The simple fact that I am -- or was -- talking to her at the bar means, for those in the know, that Tiffany is intended for the Congressman. There is really no other reason for me to be talking to a beautiful woman at this hotel's bar.

I wait until she has entered the hall that accesses the rest rooms, then quietly follow after her. She looks up at me with ... surprise...? shock...? fury? It's hard to tell, particularly since I don't give her much time to react to me entering the ladies' lounge.

I grasp one of her wrists firmly and back her forcefully into a stall, pinning her to the wall with the great strength of a man who spends two hours in the gym every day.

Responding to her declaration that she doesn't know who I am, I growl, "I work for the Congressman. As do you, now. But you don't, really ... do you ... because you aren't one of Mimi's whores. Which means that you're either a plant ... a spy ... from the tabloids ... the Opposition Party ... maybe even Susan's lawyers, trying to get dirt for a future and ill timed divorce."

My body is pressed firmly against hers, squishing her to the polished wood of the rather upscale bathroom facility. I growl, "Who the fuck are you...? I have to know, now! Because..."

I don't finish my statement. You don't tell a woman your boss is paying to have sex with him just how badly he wants to have sex with her before a pay schedule is arranged. I know that no matter who she is, this Tiffany needs to be upstairs soon to fulfill my boss's night of joy and pleasure. I simply can't send her upstairs without knowing what her angle is.