“No,” he shouted angrily into the mouthpiece, “you’ll have it Friday when I’m done,” and slammed the red phone back onto its plastic cradle. He snorted contemptuously, then raised his eyes towards the insistent rapping on his office door.
“Yes,” he shouted.
The door was opened by a young man of medium build, well dressed and distinctly scrubbed. He was twenty-five, with slicked-back, dark brown wavy hair.
‘Harvard or Yale?’ wondered the elder man, sitting at his desk.
“Well?” asked Senator Robert Edwards, in his gruff, early-morning, clipped tone.
“Senator Edwards?” an unruffled voice inquired.
“That’s what it says on the door young man.”
“Good morning, Senator, I’m John Phillips, your Personal Assistant.”
“Of course you are,” replied the Senator, smiling broadly, remembering the interview they had shared some four weeks ago. Walking around his desk he grasped the hand of his new P.A. His reply had disconcerted the Yale man, who realized that the Senator had forgotten who he was but had made no attempt to apologize.
The Senator’s years in office had schooled his thoughts and words to provide a verbal vehicle that promoted himself in any conversation. This form of expression, more commonly known as ‘one-upmanship,’ was usually regarded as everyday dialogue by most politicians on ‘The Hill.’
Robert Edwards was born in Columbus, Ohio; to wealthy and prosperous parents. From a young age he quickly learnt that the pen was, indeed mightier than the sword. First, by writing articles for the local paper, then after graduating from Harvard by writing political speeches for the Governor of the day. At twenty-eight he ran for election up his own political ladder and achieved his goal as the youngest Senator for the state of Ohio.
Two years later he married the state’s most eligible, wealthy woman, Harriet Chiddingstone, a family lawyer with her father’s law firm of Chiddingstone, Harley Associates.
Harriet’s father had once described his only child as, ‘an angel sent to defend the devil’s of this world.’
He had seen her blossom from a lanky, though attractive, blonde girl in her formative years, to a woman well endowed both physically and mentally. At six foot tall and with an I.Q. of 148 she commanded respect. Some men tended to back off when she wore high heels and had her long hair coifed on top of her head. She looked beautifully aloof, even distant to them.
Few men realized that all she wanted was a liitle love and attention and provided that they were not unattractive they could have shared something wonderful.
On the other hand, women saw what they wanted to see, a graceful, Scandinavian, blonde bimbo. Typical fodder for Hugh Hefner’s stable. However, once in conversation with her they found that she conversed exceptionally well on most topics and in an empathic way. Perhaps subconcsiously this was her safeguard against alienating them. All the same it had a warming effect on her audience which, through college and into law practice, enabled her to be extremely popular among all her colleagues.
Robert inherited a gene from his father’s side of the family. This gene determined by the age of twenty-seven that he became completely bald but far from being a disadvantage in his career and love life his baldness proved a positive advantage. To his electorate it made him look older and wiser. To women who were attracted to young, socially powerful men his baldness seemed to say, ‘Hey, it may have gone from up there but it’s up to you to find out if the cupboard is totally bare.’
Robert was socially introduced to Harriet at a tennis club function. The exchange of glances and shaking of hands sent a pleasurable tingle to her clitoris. The effect amazed and startled her.
They sat out most of the dances, just talking and listening. Passers-by commented that it must be love for they seemed never to take their eyes off each other.
They made a stunning couple on the tennis court and in their social circle they became known as ‘Bonnie and Clyde.’
Robert ‘Clyde’ Edwards, due to his elegant clothes style and hard-nosed politics.
‘Where did he get the money to pay for that suit?’
‘Oh, he robs banks.’
Harriet ‘Bonnie’ Chiddingstone.
She suddenly enthused over everything anyone did or said. She became, as one young man with Scottish ancestry mused, ‘A bonnie lass - a bonnie lass in love.’
The grand wedding was inevitable. Five hundred and sixty guests saw them off on a honeymoon that encompassed two weeks in Hawaiaii and two weeks in as many european countries that they could tour.
For the first two years they had an exciting, sexual marriage that each partner enjoyed but as time went on parents and friends noticed a change in their attitude, a change that became a rift, then a great divide.
They wanted children. They had discussed the topic at great length even before the wedding. They tried desperately to create life, perhaps too hard.
It hurt Robert more so than Harriet. He had it all. Money. Position. Power - an attractive wife - but he didn’t have a son.
It irked him, like an itching knife wound as it heals.
It was an uncomfortable feeling. In his mind it became an unsociable feeling. A feeling that during the past eight years he had achieved everything he had set out to do but could not produce, mold and characterize his likeness forward - into another generation.
He strongly believed that his accumulated knowledge of life over the past thirty-eight years, should be passed on to a younger mind to enable that mind to have a head start in life.
Medically, Harriet could have children and he was capable of producing
offspring even with his lower than average sperm count.
Every conceivable sexual position, described in the Karma Sutra, had been used. They had enlisted the aid of marriage guidance counseling and coincided their love-making to Harriet’s biorhythms but still nothing happened.
A hollowness impinged itself on their lives. It resulted in a stagnant marriage that ultimately foundered - then died.
Each partner, though still living together in the same house, had inevitably found solace with another.
Now here, in his Washington office and shaking his hand, was the epitome of
what Senator Edwards carefully considered to be the, ‘Clay for his mold.’ If he could not produce children maybe he could mold this young man into someone who he felt would achieve greatness. With just a little guidance.
“John, it’s good to see you. My secretary phoned in sick so we have a great
deal of work to get through today. Though tonight we’ll kick over the traces and have some entertainment,” he said moving a straight backed, wooden chair, beside the burnished, mahogany desk.
“Coffee?” he asked, moving quickly to the percolator, perched boldly atop one of three metal filing cabinets.
“Yes. Please, Senator. Black. No sugar sir.”
“Same here, my boy,” intoned Robert, ensuring that John’s memory noted the
point he was making.
Robert brought the bone china cups of steaming coffee over to the desk and set them down.
“Over the next few hours I’ll bring you up to speed,” said Robert, easing himself into his comfortable chair, “both on what I expect of you and what you can expect of me. I know you’re good with figures so I want your input on the budget proposal for the upcoming Finance Committee. Can you provide the Committee and me with some new ideas?”
“Senator. I’m your man.”
“Good, then lets go for it.”
They worked diligently till two in the afternoon when John ordered out for some sandwiches. The sun arced through the one large window and lazily settled down on the horizon. The day turned to dusk and they finally completed the draft proposal by seven that evening.
Both men stretched tired arm, leg and neck muscles. The Senator argued a
strong case for neither man returning home that evening.
John was single and currently had no steady girlfriend while Robert knew
Harriet would neither care nor worry if he didn’t come home. And besides Robert wanted to get to know John. Not in the physical sense but mentally. He wanted to start on his ‘rebuilding project’ as soon as possible.
From his office phone, the Senator booked two rooms at a local hotel. They went there first to wash and freshen up with John needing little persuasion to go on later with Robert to a neighboring, upmarket, singles bar.
While Robert and John were manipulating figures, Robert’s wife, Harriet, had taken the day off from work and around mid-morning, when the phone rang, she received an unexpected emotional uplift.
“You have reached the home of Senator Edwards, Mrs Edwards speaking,” she said, with the self assurance that wealth instills.
“Hi, lover!” The husky voice imparted a sexiness that instantly fueled Harriet’s emotions. Her heart skipped a beat. Her voice inched up an octave as she asked, “Sonia, Sonia darling, is that really you?”
Harriet rolled over onto her stomach. The tiger skin rug softly crushed beneath her as she lay by the unlit fireplace in the lounge. Her head rested on one upturned arm. She still wore her white silk teddy that clung sensuously to the clean, peach skin of her freshly showered body.
An anxious Sonia asked, “I’ve missed you, Harriet.”
“I’ve missed you too Sonia, so very much. How is your Aunt?”
“She’s recovered from her illness and is fine now.”
“Can we see each other this evening?”
“Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“I can arrange a room in town say for around eight this evening?”
“That would be wonderful.”
“Can I phone you later with the details. Are you still on the same number? I can’t wait to be with you. Can we be together all night?”
“Same number, my love and yes, we can be together all night long.”
“God, I’ve missed your touch, your scent, your voice. You. I can’t wait. All night with you. See you soon, then. Bye Sonia, bye.” She blew a kiss down the phone and hung up.
They’d met at one of Harriet’s interminable round of benefit functions she attended annually. Half way through the proceedings she had gone to freshen up and almost bumped into a stunning, woman with vibrant red hair exiting the bathroom.
After a polite exchange of apologies, the ‘vision in red’ continued on her way. Harriet watched her departing figure. She was surprised by her own delight as ‘the redhead’ stopped, turned and came back to her.
“I’m fond of coffee at Eleznick’s around four,” she purred huskily, then abruptly turned on her high heels. Her hair swayed to her flouncing walk, her full hips sheathed tightly within a black, knee length dress. The black highlighted both the paleness of her skin and her hair colour.
She sashayed away towards the melee.
Harriet quickly freshened up and sought out the mysterious woman who had
struck such a sensual chord but she could find no trace of her.
The sight, scent and sound of the woman remained with Harriet for the rest of the day. The ‘red-head’ had both disturbed and excited her.
As an adult, Harriet had never experienced an intimate bond or sexual
relationship between herself and another woman. High school and university had thrown up a few occasions when a crush towards another female had surfaced and led to a certain amount of touching and embracing but nothing further had developed.
At three-thirty the following afternoon, it had taken all of Harriet’s emotional courage to enter Eleznick’s and sit at a table facing the front door.
She had not wanted to be late.
By four-thirty, after three cups of cold coffee, she was preparing to leave when ‘the redhead’ stepped through the opened glass door. She wore dark glasses. The figure hugging, black, Versace dress enveloped every curve above her mid-thigh. Flesh coloured silk stockings encased her long sinuous legs down to her black patent shoes. Harriet’s own dark glasses shielded her from the gaze of others but afforded little protection from this woman’s imperious stare.
She ‘drifted’ over to Harriet’s table and sat down beside her. As the waiter
approached she shooed him away with a wave from one carefully manicured
hand that exhibited long, red, perfectly lacquered fingernails.
Harriet inhaled deeply through her nose. The intoxicating perfume flooded her nostrils and spread like a narcotic through her veins. She unconsciously closed her eyes as a warmth crept along her own nylon clad thigh. She shuddered, deliciously, as the woman’s hand found her bare flesh between the top of her black, sheer stockings and her delicate, lace frilled, wispy silk panties.
A husky voice intruded on her wanton thoughts, “Shall we go on to your place or find somewhere here in town that’s more discreet, Harriet?” She said removing her glasses and gazing deeply into Harriet’s eyes.
Harriet’s eyes opened. “I. I. had hoped we might get to know one another a little better before. Well. I’m not sure what you. You know my name?”
The caressing warmth on her sensitive inner thigh dissipated as the woman
removed her hand. Harriet felt a loss; even a sense of disappointment.
“I made a point of inquiring whom I would meet here today.”
“May I know your name?”
“You may call me Sonia.”
“Is that your real name?”
“It’s a name I reserve for my. special friends and I believe we can become very close friends Harriet, if you wish it. Do you want it Harriet?”
The double meaning to her words did not go unnoticed. Gazing deeply into Sonia’s brown eyes with their long, dark upswept eyelashes she slowly fell under their spell. She was becoming mesmerised by her flaming hair, seduced by her rich, full lips. Ensnared by the sharp nose and flared nostrils, lost in a void of lust for a woman whose demeanour had suddenly captured her thoughts.
“I’m sorry. What did you ask me?” said Harriet, shaking her head and rapidly blinking her eyes.
A hand reached out across the table and descended over Harriet’s own. Its
feather light touch caressed her skin.
“Did I wrongly conclude from our first meeting something that you now wish to reject?”
“No. I feel. felt. something.”
“Do you want me, Harriet? Do you feel that we can become close friends.
Intimate friends. Perhaps even passionate friends?”
Distantly Harriet heard herself say, “Yes, I want you, Sonia. I want to be close to you. Closer than I have been with any other person. I want you.”
She was aware that she spoke the truth; had known it since their first meeting.
As she spoke her own hand closed over Sonia’s, crushing and embracing the
warmth that flowed from the depths of the beautiful apparition that beguiled her thoughts and senses.
They left the coffee shop arm in arm, hailed a cab and before Harriet had
composed herself in her seat, Sonia had leant across and kissed her with a
passion that had made her swoon. She had no time to think what this meant with either sense or sensibility. She returned the warmth of her companion’s kiss with equal ardor.
All too quickly they were at a hotel, not one of Harriet’s choosing but one with a respectable facade that would serve their purpose - for a price.
The elevator ride proved awkward for both women as each partner lustfully
surveyed the other within a profound silence.
They walked briskly hand in hand down the empty, silent corridor to their allocated room, unlocked the door, entered and gently closed it behind them.
Sonia quickly went to the window curtains and drew them. She rounded on Harriet and in the darkness their lips touched, hands found buttons and clasps. As their passion mounted the rustle of divested clothing drowned their laboured breathing.
Naked, they fell panting onto the large feather bed.
Wandering hands explored warm areas of silky smooth flesh; wet tongues licked aroused and thickened nipples, while emotions soared from gentle caresses.
Sonia sat up, twisted round and by lifting one svelte, tanned leg over Harriet’s prone body she lowered her moist opening to Harriet’s waiting tongue whilst gently licking and probing Harriet’s own swollen vulva.
Harriet was swept along by a feverish, sexual excitement.
Her charged body suffused with an electric desire for this woman who touched and thrilled her body with her tongue’s darting movements. Time stood still as the fluttering within her belly ebbed and flowed, her inner thighs trembled, her thoughts finely attuned to the knowledge of her approaching orgasm.
She was dumbfounded by the speed at which the burning in her belly ignited in a fire that pulsed upward and flamed onto her chest.
Harriet bucked upward as she came with a force that left her gasping, her
spasms slowly subsiding into affectionate memory.
Sonia twisted round and fell beside her. They embraced affectionately. Gentle kisses followed fingertip caresses. Love’s afterglow began slowly dissipating.
“I’ve been extremely selfish Sonia. Can you forgive me?”
“Lover, I could tell that this was your first time with another woman. I know what you are feeling and knowing those feelings means that you must experience other delights to know the true meaning of a woman’s love. Don’t ask for my forgiveness when there is nothing to forgive.”
“Would you teach me Sonia. Show me how to make love to another woman.”
Sonia thought for a few moments then rose up and walked over to the bathroom doorway. She flicked on the interior light, then moved over to their discarded clothes. Bending down with her back to Harriet she picked up the two discarded black silk stockings.
“Do you trust me?” She asked Harriet, walking provocatively back toward the
bed, the glow from the bathroom clearly showing the black stockings moving
through her hands.
“Yes,” breathed Harriet, her torso squirming as she raised her arms up to the edges of the headboard.
Sonia slipped onto the bed, clambered over Harriet’s supine body and,
reaching across the naked woman, she tied one hand to the strut of the wooden headboard. Her full breast swung across Harriet’s face and her rigid nipple was eagerly engulfed by a warm wet mouth whose teeth bit tenderly into her protruding flesh.
“Ow!” Squealed Sonia, smiling delightedly but twisted her breast away from
Harriet’s grasping mouth. “Not now Harriet. Time for that later.”
After both hands were firmly bound to the headboard Sonia left her partner and went into the bathroom. Moments later she returned with a tray on which stood a glass of hot water, soap, flannel, two towels and a razor.
“What are you. No. Please Sonia no,” pleaded Harriet, as Sonia settled the tray next to the anxious woman’s naked body.
“If you move I will cut you, Harriet, so please don’t be afraid, I’ve done this before without complaint.”
Sonia knelt beside the bed and picked a towel, rolling it into a long length of material. She lifted Harriet’s head and used it as a makeshift blindfold.
Sonia stretched Harriet’s legs apart and between them she worked her meticulous magic. Occasional strangled moans emanated from Harriet’s dry lips. Her legs stayed apart, the muscles flexing and relaxing as Sonia’s fingers moved the folds of her skin to accommodate the razor’s edge.
“There, all done,” Sonia proudly announced, slowly pouring the soapy water into the other folded, white towel.
“Now I have a gift from you that no one else has ever received,” she said softly. She plucked out the tiny damp wisps of blonde hair and placed them in a small tissue that eventually found its way into her clutch handbag.
“One day I’ll let you do the same to me but only when I truly believe that you love me. Do you understand.”
“Yes,” gasped a tenderly aroused Harriet.
Sonia removed everything from the bed and eyed her evening’s work. Bending between Harriet’s outstretched, long, peach tanned legs, she blew a stream of cooling air onto the shaven mons. Harriet groaned.
Sonia dipped her head down and smelt the aroma of hotel soap mingle with
Harriet’s musky sex. She kissed and sucked Harriet’s clitoris, licked her sensitive slit from top to bottom while using the tip of her petulant nose to rhythmically caress her engorged clitoris. Sonia lost herself in a world of lust. Her senses inhaled Harriet’s sweet muskiness and she tasted the delicious nectar of her labour.
Harriet’s torso bucked at the pleasure performed on her aroused body. She wrapped her legs around Sonia’s head and thrust her lower body upward. Sonia’s crushed ears felt the first muscle spasm, then Harriet’s inner thigh muscles trembled uncontrollably as the first sign of her approaching climax rushed upon her. Sonia felt Harriet’s body shudder as she climaxed.
Sonia ceased moving and released her subjugated lover. As Sonia left to take a shower Harriet looked away and curled her legs up into a tight ball.
Sonia had nearly finished washing when Harriet drew back the glass door and
stepped inside the warm, humid cubicle. Her arms went around Sonia’s hot, wet skin and she embraced her; kissed her wet cheeks, her eyes, nose and mouth. She locked her lips to Sonia’s in a
Three months into their torrid affair and Sonia told Harriet that they had to part for just a short time. Aunt Augusta - her only close, living relative and who had raised her for a short time - was seriously ill.
“Of course you must go to her, Sonia.”
That was two months ago - now she was back in Washington.
Realising that she was soon to meet her lover again, after such a long period of sexual abstention, Harriet became increasingly aroused during the remainder of the day.
She was not able to book a room at their usual hotel. A convention had taken all the available accommodation. She tried several others until at last she succeeded.
Unable to speak to Sonia on her mobile phone, she reluctantly left a message with Sonia’s answering service. She hated the condescending tone of the managers voice.
“Katrina’s Answering Facility, Frances speaking, how may I be of service to you?” said the woman.
“I wish to leave a message for Sonia,” said Harriet, using the clipped
monologue she usually reserved for bumptious waiters. “Please ask her to meet Juliet Stevens tonight at eight at the Russell Hotel here in Washington. Thank you.”
She hung up, not wishing to hear another word from the obnoxious Frances.
Nothing was going to spoil her day.
She had used their code word - Juliet - for a lover’s liaison. Sonia knew to ask at the hotel desk for any messages under the Stevens surname. Once Harriet registered she would write down her room number and seal it in an envelope and mark it for collection by Juliet Stevens. Sonia would then know which room Harriet occupied and, when the coast was clear, she could go up to Harriet’s room at any time.
Her heart skipped a beat. A feeling of elation, like that of a High School girl on her first date, washed through her.
After so many weeks of loneliness she felt ecstatic. She was alive again.
Robert and John struggled through the crowded early evening singles bar to a corner seat reserved for his use a few hours earlier. Almost immediately they were served by Randolph.
“Well, good evening Robert,” he said, in his gay effusive manner. “Will you introduce me to your friend or shall I make the necessary introductions?”
“Good evening Randolph, this is John - John Phillips. John this is Randolph
our waiter for the evening. He’ll provide you with anything you want and I
do mean anything.”
Robert ordered two beers to drink and a bottle of Scotch to take with him later.
Their conversation for the next hour revolved around John who sensed that this was an informal get together for the Senator to find out what made him tick.
During John’s account of his lost virginity a distinct hush quelled the general hubbub in the room and both men raised their eyes to see what was happening.
A woman had entered the room.
Now, there are those women who crave attention, those that get attention and those who demand attention. This was a woman demanding and receiving the
attention of every male in the bar.
She wore black leather high heels that encased her small feet; feet also hugged by black silk stockings that swelled up from the ground embracing her long shapely legs and strong thighs to disappear under her petulant pink, crotch length, lam mini-skirt. It almost revealed more than it concealed. Her sheer, see through, satin blouse, tucked into the waistband stretched over her large, full upthrust breasts highlighting her proud nipples and their surrounding darker areola. Around her throat hung a slender red choker, set with a single, large, sparkling, diamond.
Her makeup accentuated her high cheek bones. A wide generous mouth, graceful nose, large dark brown eyes and broad forehead, set onto an almond shaped face. Her long upswept red hair flashed with the reflection of a few tiny diamante as too did the diamond earrings almost hidden by the tiny strands of coiled hair that hung gracefully beside delicate earlobes.
For a few seconds she surveyed the hushed assembly, then, her mind made up, she strode directly towards the washrooms situated at the rear of the building. People parted in front of her, seemingly like a hot knife through butter. Once she had disappeared inside the toilets a buzz broke out that swelled to a crescendo.
Robert, looked directly at John whom he’d noticed had kept his eyes on her
body for every second.
“Would you like to make love to her, John?”
“I reckon so Senator, though my salary could never buy her love.”
“The cost is irrelevant, however my question still remains unanswered.”
“Yes, Senator I’d love to make it with her.”
Robert stood up and beckoned towards Randolph who came over immediately. The Senator whispered what appeared to be instructions and as Robert sat back down, Randolph summoned a waitress. She listened intently, nodded her acceptance and disappeared towards the ladies washroom.
“What was all that about, Senator? What are you cooking up with Randolph?”
“Patience, my boy, patience.”
Minutes later and the sea of bodies began parting again. ‘She’ emerged to stand at their table. Robert immediately stood and ushered her between himself and John sitting on the richly padded bench seat. Her heady perfume beguiled John’s already inflamed senses. He couldn’t hear above the din what initially passed between them but realisation dawned when Robert ordered a round of drinks and he was introduced.
At first he wasn’t sure what melted his heart, her smile, or the warmth of her hand caressing his inner thigh. From then on she somehow controlled the
conversation.
Both men had difficulty averting their gaze from below the table as her
short skirt inevitably revealed in the dim light a slash of red hair.
Between her thighs she was naked.
Robert leant over and in a muted tone said to him, “John take care of our
guest for a few minutes. I can’t be seen leaving with this gorgeous creature but I’ll meet you both, in your room, in thirty minutes.” Robert stood up holding the bottle of Scotch contained within the ubiquitous brown bag.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure ma’am,” he said, aloud. “See you tomorrow John. Nine sharp. Have a good evening.”
John waited a discreet ten minutes. They walked through the bar, arm in arm, fully aware of a throng of admiring stares.
Amazingly, their entrance into the foyer of John’s hotel went unnoticed. No one saw them enter the foyer or get into the elevator.
Harriet arrived at the Russell Hotel twenty minutes early.
She wrote her room number on a slip of paper and left it in a marked and sealed envelope. Taking her room cardkey she went directly up in the elevator to the sixteenth floor. Her early arrival was to physically pamper her body for the evening’s passion but more importantly to attune her thoughts to the questions she wanted to ask Sonia. Her answers would ultimately determine Harriet’s future.
She was determined to leave Robert and ask Sonia to share her life instead. It was a huge leap for a woman prepared to forfeit her marriage and career for the love of another woman.
As she removed her clothes and slipped into a sensual silk thong teddy she
thought of what she would say and how she would say it as the evening, and
their lovemaking, progressed. A gentle tapping on the door interrupted her
thoughts. She was ready.
“Yes, who is it?” she asked, her voicing quivering slightly.
“It’s me, Juliet. I have some papers for signature and hoped we could EAT somewhere later on,” came the husky voiced reply.
Harriet threw open the door smiling broadly, a knowing sparkle in her eye,
at the last remark.
“Come in ‘Juliet.’ It shouldn’t take long to finish our business then of
course we can EAT.”
She closed the door and they hugged each other tightly.
Their kisses lasted an eternity until Harriet broke free and stepped back to allow her eyes to feast on her lover. Sonia had other more urgent ideas and slipped easily out of her clothes. Naked she stood before Harriet’s lustful gaze. Harriet quickly slipped off her silk teddy. The warmth of her smile was tinged with a slight mixture of anxiety.
Sonia knelt down, her eye’s level with Harriet’s neatly trimmed and perfumed pussy and asked, “Can we EAT first?”
Their laughter filled the room, dissipating the sexual tension surrounding
the two naked women, and as Harriet took hold of Sonia’s head she stepped
closer to Sonia’s moistened lips.
“Eat now, drink later, lover,” she whispered affectionately.
Sonia wrapped her arms around Harriet’s upper thighs. With one knee on the
floor and one leg bent at the knee she lifted Harriet off the floor and walked the few steps to the bed where she tossed her body onto the bedspread.
“In comfort, Harriet,” Sonia retorted wickedly.
Sonia’s tongue, lips and fingers busied themselves furiously between Harriet’s outstretched legs. Her perfumed and hairy pussy was new to Sonia’s
remembrance of their past love making. It excited and aroused her to know that Harriet had taken the trouble to provide a different scenario for her exploring tongue.
Harriet had hoped to prolong their initial round of love making. Such a long time without love had left her craving and coping with her sexual excitement throughout the day had left her moist. She whimpered with sexual emotion as she climaxed after a few pleasurable moments.
To both women it was a relief. Sonia knew instantly that Harriet had been
faithful to her while away and Harriet had at last been granted what she had
yearned for these past two months, together with the firm knowledge that Sonia could still arouse her passion.
Raising herself up on both elbows, Sonia said in a voice rasping with incredulity, “So quickly my love? Have you missed me so much?”
“Oh, Sonia. You have no idea just how much I have longed for your touch. To
you that may sound unbelievable but I have yearned for your return. I’ve been counting the days,” she said, embracing the warmth of Sonia’s body alongside her own. “Today has been one of the happiest I can remember for ages.”
For a time they caressed and kissed. Each kiss becoming longer and deeper
until Harriet broke free and sat astride her lover’s belly; bending down to kiss and twirl first one nipple then both in unison. She slowly inched her way down to lie outstretched with her face buried between Sonia’s legs.
Sonia’s own feelings during the day’s wait had had their effect on her. With Harriet orchestrating her body’s intense physical emotions she rushed towards her own sexually charged climax. She trembled and shuddered under its fierce warmth and impact, clasping Harriet’s hands to her aching, pink flushed chest.
Together they showered, washing each other’s body, feeling familiar flesh and wallowing in their arousal. Fingers instead of tongues stimulated their passion. Their emotions inflamed and ignited they cried out together during simultaneous orgasm.
Back in bed again Harriet produced their favourite brand of Scotch which they drank deeply.
“Sonia?”
“Yes, Harriet.”
“Earlier I had prepared myself for what I wanted to ask you tonight but, for the life of me, I can’t remember how I was going to ask you.”
“What is it my love? What’s so important that you needed to rehearse a speech beforehand?”
“Sonia. I. I would like us to be together always and. and to that end I’m prepared to divorce my husband and give up my career to be with you,” she blurted. She turned towards Sonia, her eyes searching for the right reaction.
Sonia sat up. Her pallor mirrored in the white pillow.
“I understand your motives Harriet and my feelings for you run strong and deep but I cannot live with you.”
“Why not?” implored a distraught Harriet whose world was beginning to crumble at the edges.
“Because in the world where I live our love would not survive.”
A premonition surfaced in Harriet’s mind. It found her heart as she whispered, “What world are you living in Sonia?” She searched Sonia’s eyes for some clue. Her lover looked away and down at the floor as she spoke. Harriet heard the words distantly, her world came crashing around her and tears welled and ebbed from her eyes.
“Call girl?” She mouthed the words but heard no sound. “Call girl? I don’t
understand. Sonia, why didn’t you tell me. Why? Oh, no, no, say it’s not true?” she wailed.
Sonia clasped Harriet’s hands saying, “I’m sorry Harriet so very sorry. How
could I even begin to tell you. Stop a moment. Think. Put yourself in my place. How do you tell the one you love that you will stay faithful to her but the work you do means that promise is broken twice daily.”
“Leave me alone. Don’t rub it in. Please leave me alone.”
“Oh fine, I see. When the going gets tough you cave in Harriet.”
“Please, just go. I’m not giving up on us. I need to be alone to come to terms with what you’ve said.”
“Fine Harriet. You come to terms with it and give me a call when you’re ready to forgive me.”
Sonia rolled out of bed, stood up and began dressing. An awkward silence
followed until Sonia had dressed and applied some make-up then opened the
door.
“‘Bye Harriet.” Not waiting for a reply she closed the door.
Click.
Sonia’s exit echoed in Harriet’s head.
Silence.
Harriet drank the remaining Scotch. The how and why of Sonia’s bombshell
statement resounding in her mind. She fell into a drunken stupor from which she did not surface until early the following morning.
Sonia left the hotel in a hurry, emotionally drained. She had not meant to get sexually involved with anyone but Harriet had met her at a time in her life when she had needed someone’s shoulder to cry on.
Someone other than Frances - her Madame - or her younger, slightly less attractive, sister who also enjoyed life ‘on the game.’
Out of habit Sonia had picked up Harriet’s room cardkey and placed it in her bag. The key was for her sister. For a while, it would provide her with a room she could use with her own client’s and at no cost.
Sonia walked idly along the bustling Washington sidewalk, soon realising that she needed to use the bathroom. She stopped outside a singles bar and as the door opened to disgorge a young, smiling couple, she caught hold of the door before it shut and went inside.
Taking stock of her surroundings she knew her presence had made an immediate impact as most male eyes in the crowded room swiveled their heads towards her. The hubbub muted and, as she glimpsed the bathroom sign, she was aware that she knew at least one person in particular from the forty or so people gathered there.
The irony was - she had just left his wife.
On the fifteenth floor of the Russell Hotel, Senator Edwards quickly prepared for an interesting evening’s sexual interlude, unaware of his wife’s presence in a room on the floor above his.
He added an extra five minutes to their agreed thirty, then walked the short distance down the deep carpeted corridor to John’s door and knocked.
The door opened onto subdued lighting harmonised with some late night music emanating from the bedside radio. He walked in and John, naked, closed the door behind him.
Sonia lay gloriously nude on the bed; her skin, burnished and tanned, was in stark contrast to the hotel’s white linen.
“Have you guy’s started without me?” Robert jokingly asked, as he undressed surprisingly quickly.
Sonia swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Her eyes locked
with his. “Not so fast Robert,” she said, huskily. “You don’t mind if I use first names do you? I find ‘titles’ or surnames sometimes get in the way of business.”
Robert’s ears pricked at the word ‘titles.’
“John told you who I am?” he questioned, rounding on a defenseless John.
John palmed both hands saying innocently, “Hey, not me Robert that’s more
than my job’s worth.”
“No nothing like that,” she continued. “It’s just that the circles I move in, you get to meet a great number of important people at various functions. I met your wife, Harriet, a few weeks ago. That’s how I know you, Senator Edwards. I believe we agreed tonight’s ‘entertainment’ at two thousand dollars with payment in advance. Do you have that amount with you or would you like to charge it?”
“Cash my dear, here,” he acknowledged, handing over a wad of banknotes.
She counted the money and placed it safely inside her bag.
“It’s time to play boys. What do you fancy John? I see you’ve been busy while we’ve been talking,” gazing at John’s erection.
“It’s okay John, this one’s on me. Make love to her anyway you want. But make sure she comes first,” he said, pouring a stiff drink. “I’ll watch.”
For Robert the next half an hour proved sexually stimulating. His eyes missed nothing and his enormous erection captivated Sonia’s attention. Her eyes watched him as he stroked his manhood.
John proved a worthy lover and although most prostitutes showed every sign of pleasure in order to provide their client with the erotic stimuli to come, Sonia never did. She enjoyed her work too much and took sexual pleasure whenever she could. This ocassion was no exception and John’s urgent, rhythmic thrusting, in the usual ‘missionary’ position, aroused her.
She came; thrusting her pelvis up to meet his perspiring flesh. She groaned long and low in her throat. It was enough to bring John to orgasm who cried out and thrust deeper for a few strokes then rested. He lovingly kissed her and she responded.
“Well done both of you. Have a deserved rest, then we can continue.”
Sonia showered. They drank some more Scotch, joked; briefly discussed a few
topical news items and as usual the men asked various questions about Sonia’s trade. It was around this time that John fell soundly asleep on the bed.
Robert suggested she accompany him to his room so John could rest.
They dressed adequately for their short walk and made their way without
incident to Robert’s larger suite. Whilst Robert used the bathroom, Sonia quickly inserted his cardkey into the false bottom of her handbag, then, turning on the radio to a late night music channel, she proceeded to enact a slow, sensual dance routine that always impressed and aroused her clients.
Within moments she was nude and Robert had the proudest erection of his life.
Their love making provided each partner with the sexual gratification they
needed to fulfill their desires. As their sweat streaked bodies approached
simultaneous orgasm Robert’s hands closed around Sonia’s neck as her head
hung over the side of the bed, her arms trapped beneath her body. Clenching his hand in an orgiastic cataclysm of sexual emotion Robert clung to her throat as she bucked and trembled beneath him. In his mind, time stood still, as he continued to thrust and grip his lover. He came and came again until his penis went limp and he dropped down from his plateau of pleasure.
His eyes met hers.
She was dead.
The staring, limpid brown pools, gazed lifelessly at the ceiling. He groaned and rolled away.
John’s head ached. The shrill tone came and went, came and went. He knew its
origin but found it hard to roll over in bed and pick up the phone.
Weakly he said,”Yes.” His tone tired and sleepy. He looked at the bedside
clock that indicated a luminous four o’clock.
“John, its Senator Edwards. Get washed and dressed and come to my room when you are able, please. It’s important.” The phone whirred.
The Senator had hung up.
Robert put the phone gently back into its rest and for the hundredth time glanced across to Sonia’s lifeless, naked form.
He spent the next twenty minutes washing and dressing himself, then cleaned
the room of her presence. With some difficulty he managed to dress her body.
His last gesture was to close her eyelids.
His hand whipped away as he heard a gentle tapping on the door.
“Yes?” he inquired apprehensively.
“It’s me. John.”
Robert opened the door and allowed the young man entrance to the room then
closed it quickly.
John saw Sonia’s unmoving body and knew.
“Christ, Senator what have you done? What in God’s name possessed you?” he hissed, moving over to Sonia’s body and grabbing the phone.
For a man weighing one hundred and eighty pounds Robert’s body moved
surprisingly quickly as he reached out and plucked the phone from John’s hand.
“No,” said Robert, vehemently. “No police. We can sort this mess out together. It’s simple. all we need do is put the body in another room and no one will trace it back to mine.”
“Simple? Simple?” reiterated John’s suddenly high pitched voice. “It may be
simple to you Robert but I don’t want to spend ten years in jail for conspiracy to murder.”
“You won’t have to if you put her body in the room this cardkey fits,” he said, brandishing the plastic card to room 166. “If you don’t do as I ask then I’ll say you killed her in your room and put her body in mine to implicate me. Don’t forget there are probably traces of your semen still inside her.”
The air hung heavily between them. John’s mind whirled with the possibilities of his actions. If he helped the Senator now perhaps later he could use this to his own advantage. If anyone saw him moving the body he could say she was drunk, paralytic. He made up his mind.
“Robert, help me put her over my shoulders.”
John’s laboured breathing in the confines of the stairwell echoed in his mind. ‘I must get himself into better shape,’ was a thought that filtered through as his right hand held onto the woman’s cool legs.
His hurried stride over the corridor’s dense carpet led him to the door marked 166. He deftly inserted the card and turned the handle. She was getting heavier and he wanted this over.
He shut the door noiselessly behind him and waited for his sight to adjust to the dim light.
The darkness uttered a single loud snore.
It was at that point John knew he had made a bad decision.
Slowly he discerned the area from where the snoring emanated - the bed. He walked over and accidentally kicked an empty glass bottle into the woodwork of the bedside cabinet. ‘Shit!’ he thought.
The snoring continued without missing a beat. Realisation dawned that whoever was snoring was in a stupor. Even an earthquake would have difficulty waking them.
He slowly released his burden onto the bed alongside the snoring figure. Deftly searching Sonia’s handbag he pocketed the Senator’s money, discarding the bag on the floor and left the room.
In the stairwell he vowed the Senator would pay dearly for this night’s work.
A coldness in her back was the first unquiet indication Harriet experienced as she dragged her numbed mind from sleep. She turned over and felt a cold hand then opened her eyes to see Sonia’s profile in the grey of early morning.
“Sonia?” she said, shaking the bleary remnants of sleep from her cloudy mind. “Sonia what is it?” Reaching over Harriet shook the woman’s shoulders.
Then, it hit her. She was dead. Somehow she must have killed her but the how and why eluded her. She burst into tears as she sobbed her heart out for the loss of her lover.
A thought shattered her grief. She would be tried for her murder. Suddenly her guilt flew out of the window as she schemed for a way out of her predicament. Nothing came to mind. She continued to weep.
Her grief lasted longer than the horror of what she had supposedly done. She tried to find solace by searching Sonia’s handbag that lay at the foot of the bed. The contents spilled onto the floor and she rummaged through them, searching for something, she knew not what. There were only the usual articles a woman carries with her.
‘So few possessions with which to die,’ she thought, breaking down again.
She picked up the clutch purse to put everything back when she felt a stiffness to the base of the purse that she knew should not be there.
Once she found the opening the plastic card was easily removed.
‘Why?’ she thought. ‘Why would Sonia have booked herself another room in the same hotel when she knew she was spending the entire evening with me?’
The room number was 156. The floor below.
She hurriedly washed and dressed and left the room taking Sonia’s key with her.
Once beside the door of room 156 she held her breath and placed an ear to the cool wood for a few moments. No sound. She unlocked the door.
Stepping inside, her immediate perception of the room’s interior was that it was much larger than her own. The faint smell of male cologne hung in the air. An image of Robert stepped into her thoughts.
The curtains were drawn but all three rooms were empty. She checked the
closet, drawers and bathroom cabinet but apart from the hotel’s own linen and ornaments there were no visible signs of occupancy.
‘Strange,’ she thought, ‘not even a change of underwear.’
She quickly made her way back to her own room and sat on the bed next to
Sonia’s cold body, contemplating what to do next. Somehow she had to get
Sonia’s body into room 156. ‘But how?’ she wondered.
It was seven o’clock when a noise in the corridor jolted her to the door to find the cause. Peering cautiously down the hallway she caught sight of a stockinged leg and a broom handle disappearing through a doorway. Outside
of which stood a large mobile laundry basket together with another cart containing household cleaning equipment.
Her lethargy disappeared in a flash of inspiration. She lifted Sonia from the bed and dragged her under the armpits to the door where she left her propped upright against the wall.
Stealing a glance along the hallway in both directions she walked casually to the laundry basket and looked inside the room. Two maids were busy scrubbing out the bathroom. She whisked the trolley along the corridor and
prayed mightily no one would come along. She took out most of the dirty linen then dumped her lover’s body into the cart and covered it over. Gently closing her door she made for the service elevator that took her swiftly down to the next floor.
Would her luck hold?
With her heart in her mouth, Harriet strode up to the door, unlocked it and
reaching into the bin lifted off the covers. She tossed them aside and grasping the body’s legs she hung them over the side of the cart. Reaching under the woman’s armpits she lifted with all the strength she could muster. Her exuberant momentum carried her backwards through the doorway.
Sonia’s cold body pinned her to the floor.
Harriet nearly panicked and rolled Sonia away from her. She dragged her into the bedroom, drew down the covers, undressed her with practiced ease and placed her in the bed. She threw the bedcovers over her body, tidied her
clothes, wiped clean the room’s cardkey and left it on the bedside table.
Glancing round she tried to picture in her mind what she may have touched and thoroughly cleaned every surface. With a quick look around she wished her lover farewell and quickly retrieved the discarded linen.
The return journey was uneventful but she decided to reconnoitre first before wheeling the trolley into position.
No one was about and she placed it back into its original position.
She skipped away to her room. Swiftly and silently shutting the door behind her. She rested her shaking body against its cool surface.
‘I did it,’ she thought. ‘I really did it.’ Tears welled in her eyes as she shivered and sobbed her heart out. For the next twenty minutes she was inconsolable.
The first Harriet knew of her husband’s involvement with Sonia was at breakfast the following morning as she opened the folded newspaper. Its headline stabbed at her heart - ‘SENATOR HELD ON CALL-GIRL MURDER.’
Hungrily devouring the front page story she began to realise that what she had smelt in the hotel room had been Robert’s cologne.
She felt used and abused but knew her actions had been vindicated. Robert
had killed their marriage. Sonia’s death would ultimately rid Harriet of
Robert.
Absentmindedly her fingers played with the hollow, gold crucifix hanging from her pale neck.
Inside, the warmth found Sonia’s coiled, red, pubic hair.
Continued in ‘.Must come down’