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I learned a long time ago that you don’t have to be in love with someone to enjoy sex. Being paid to enjoy it doesn't make the orgasm spin you out of control any less than if you weren’t paid. In fact, it might even be better.
Men like Senator Langley like to be in control. After all, that’s the very basis of being in politics: having a hand in policies that affect millions of Americans, especially the ones that safeguard his own wealth. Fingering me under the table with his friends only a few feet away is all a part of his game, and I play along because that’s what I’m paid to do.
His skilled fingers begin to lull me into a haze. I have to resist pumping my hips in order to chase the high and relieve the building pressure at my apex. Slowly I’m falling into submission, internally begging for his thumb to skim my clit once again, but that doesn’t mean that I’m powerless. In fact, it’s the other way around, because I know he’s dependent on getting me off.
When the waiter returns with the plate full of desserts, all I hear are the taps of utensils against porcelain plates and the sound of ice tumbling against glasses as chatter resumes. I am close—so close that I don’t care if the other prominent members of the House and their wives can hear me because my orgasm is right there, inching its way up my throat – and he can feel it.
Nearby I hear a shrill, “Oh my God!” come from the table followed by a collective gasp. My eyes snap open, and Jonathan’s fingers pull out of me so suddenly that it’s like a punch to the gut.
My heart hammers in my chest. I adjust my dress and settle back into my seat, but no one is looking at me or Senator Langley, who’s awkwardly adjusting himself under the table. The phone sitting next to me lights up with a news alert: Senator Kerry Walker and wife Merrill Compton-Walker Dead in a Helicopter crash.
My eyes widen at the news, and I instinctively place a hand to my chest as if to keep my heart in place.
Senator Kerry Walker.
My heart feels as though it has stopped in the middle of a beat, pressing against my ribcage.
“Oh dear, did you know him?” Elsie asks, and that’s when I feel a tear spill over onto my cheek which I quickly wipe away with the back of my hand.
I want to say that I did know him once, that I never stopped thinking about him. But of course, I can’t, especially with Jonathan sitting next to me.
I just shake my head. Jonathan clears his throat and reaches over to pick up his phone. The platter of desserts sits at the center of the table half-eaten as guests are glued to their phones while more news comes in.
“Such a shame,” someone across from me says.
“Shit,” Jonathan mutters, getting up from the table and throwing his napkin on the chair. He motions hurriedly for the bill as several of the guests stand, collecting their belongings as they ready to leave.
“I need to know if we can swing someone else,” Jonathan says gruffly into his phone. “Yes, I’m aware,” he says angrily and turns away from me, lowering his voice, but I don’t care to listen to his conversation.
When the waiter returns with the bill, Senator Langley motions across the table to Otto Reynolds, who makes a face but reluctantly takes the billfold.
“Holly,” Senator Langley holds his hand out to help me up.
We stand awkwardly at the entrance while other guests pass by, still voicing their condolences and shock over the news.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I say, attempting to leave, but he grabs my arm, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough that they’re sure to leave a bruise.
Jonathan’s eyes rake over my body and I blink momentarily, losing myself.
“I thought…”
“I’ve already paid for the evening,” he cuts me off, his eyes flaring.
He lets go of my arm as another guest, Marcus Wimbley, stops to shake the Senator's hand, and I can tell by Senator Langley’s body language that he’s annoyed at being delayed his dessert.
Marcus turns towards me with his clever brown eyes. “It was a pleasure to meet you, but we have some things to discuss.”
“I will speak with you later, Marcus. I need to see Ms. Hart home safely.”
“I’m afraid this cannot wait,” he says sternly, “and I’m sure Ms. Bowen can find herself safely home.”
He knows who I am – and he wants to make sure Senator Langley knows that he knows.
2
Frivolous Matters
Darren
