thrilling Dutch.
“Oh, sir ,” she said as he massaged her, as those sensations began to pulsate with higher and higher intensity.
But he didn’t stop there. With his free hand he reached inside her suit coat and lifted her purple blouse and matching bra. And he began kissing and sucking her breasts, the heat becoming almost unbearable with every lick, every massage, every kiss he seared onto her.
And just as that unbearable heat had him so caught up that he actually considered taking her right on that yellow couch they sat upon, knocks were heard on the door.
Dutch stopped all movement. He had to take a moment first and regain control his erratic breathing. Only then was he able to help Gina reconfigure her clothing and get off of his lap. Her breasts were still so wet that she feared the saliva would seep through her blouse.
“Yes?” Dutch yelled, able to appear surprisingly calm, it seemed to Gina, considering the tornado they had just been whirled into.
Max Brennan, the man she recognized from TV as the president’s best friend and chief of staff, walked into the room.
“Mr. President,” he said, his small, tired gray eyes glancing at Dutch, but staring at Gina. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we need to get started.”
Dutch stood up, wiping his hands with his handkerchief, and in standing, caused Gina to stand, too. But unlike Dutch, she felt flustered and knew she looked it.
“Is everybody assembled?” Dutch asked him.
“They’re assembled in the Situation Room now, sir, yes, sir.”
Dutch exhaled, opened his suit coat, and placed his hands inside his pant pockets. He had another long day ahead of him. But when he turned to tell Gina that he had to go, and saw that bewildered look in her eyes, he turned back to his chief of staff. “Give me a moment, Max,” he said.
It was obvious to Gina that Max really didn’t want to give him another second with her, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. He eyed her suspiciously again, as if it was all her fault, and then left back out of the room.
Dutch looked at her. “I have a meeting.”
“I understand.”
“You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, of course.” What Gina didn’t understand was why he was wasting time still talking to her. She didn’t know a lot about the White House, but she knew enough to know that when they were assembling in the Situation Room, it was serious.
“I want you to have dinner with me tonight,” he said to her. It was a spur of the moment thing, something he hadn’t even expected to say just a moment ago, but wasn’t about to take it back.
Gina was hesitant and it showed.
“You can lobby me some more,” Dutch said encouragingly. “I make no promises, however, on what I’ll do when that bill hits my desk. But I’ll listen to your concerns.”
That was at least something, Gina thought, although she also knew that having dinner with him could be bad for her emotional health. Especially the way they were just going at it already. She could only imagine what it would be like tonight. But she couldn’t turn down this chance to air her very serious grievances about that budget bill. “What time?” she asked.
Dutch looked upward. “It’s probably going to be one of my long days. Christian will come for you, say, around ten? ”
Ten at night? That seemed a little late to her. But she wasn’t exactly talking about a typical date. “Okay,” she said with a nod of assent.
“You wait here. Chris will be in to take you where you need to go.” He kept his hand on her arm, however, and began caressing it. “What do you have on your agenda today?” he asked her.
“Lobbying Congress about that
“Oh, sir ,” she said as he massaged her, as those sensations began to pulsate with higher and higher intensity.
But he didn’t stop there. With his free hand he reached inside her suit coat and lifted her purple blouse and matching bra. And he began kissing and sucking her breasts, the heat becoming almost unbearable with every lick, every massage, every kiss he seared onto her.
And just as that unbearable heat had him so caught up that he actually considered taking her right on that yellow couch they sat upon, knocks were heard on the door.
Dutch stopped all movement. He had to take a moment first and regain control his erratic breathing. Only then was he able to help Gina reconfigure her clothing and get off of his lap. Her breasts were still so wet that she feared the saliva would seep through her blouse.
“Yes?” Dutch yelled, able to appear surprisingly calm, it seemed to Gina, considering the tornado they had just been whirled into.
Max Brennan, the man she recognized from TV as the president’s best friend and chief of staff, walked into the room.
“Mr. President,” he said, his small, tired gray eyes glancing at Dutch, but staring at Gina. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we need to get started.”
Dutch stood up, wiping his hands with his handkerchief, and in standing, caused Gina to stand, too. But unlike Dutch, she felt flustered and knew she looked it.
“Is everybody assembled?” Dutch asked him.
“They’re assembled in the Situation Room now, sir, yes, sir.”
Dutch exhaled, opened his suit coat, and placed his hands inside his pant pockets. He had another long day ahead of him. But when he turned to tell Gina that he had to go, and saw that bewildered look in her eyes, he turned back to his chief of staff. “Give me a moment, Max,” he said.
It was obvious to Gina that Max really didn’t want to give him another second with her, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. He eyed her suspiciously again, as if it was all her fault, and then left back out of the room.
Dutch looked at her. “I have a meeting.”
“I understand.”
“You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, of course.” What Gina didn’t understand was why he was wasting time still talking to her. She didn’t know a lot about the White House, but she knew enough to know that when they were assembling in the Situation Room, it was serious.
“I want you to have dinner with me tonight,” he said to her. It was a spur of the moment thing, something he hadn’t even expected to say just a moment ago, but wasn’t about to take it back.
Gina was hesitant and it showed.
“You can lobby me some more,” Dutch said encouragingly. “I make no promises, however, on what I’ll do when that bill hits my desk. But I’ll listen to your concerns.”
That was at least something, Gina thought, although she also knew that having dinner with him could be bad for her emotional health. Especially the way they were just going at it already. She could only imagine what it would be like tonight. But she couldn’t turn down this chance to air her very serious grievances about that budget bill. “What time?” she asked.
Dutch looked upward. “It’s probably going to be one of my long days. Christian will come for you, say, around ten? ”
Ten at night? That seemed a little late to her. But she wasn’t exactly talking about a typical date. “Okay,” she said with a nod of assent.
“You wait here. Chris will be in to take you where you need to go.” He kept his hand on her arm, however, and began caressing it. “What do you have on your agenda today?” he asked her.
“Lobbying Congress about that
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