It was always the same when we got together. He didn't want me to be seen pulling up to his cushy condo in the Northwest quadrant of the city. God forbid someone in the press snap a photo of me parking my car and walking into his building. No. Instead, he always sent a car to my place to pick me up. That way he could plausibly claim that I'm a staff member coming over for an emergency late night work meeting.
All this Cloak and Dagger bullshit because I fell in with a politician. I guess "fell in" is a little bit of a misnomer. It makes it sound like our thing just randomly...happened to me. Like a freakin' meet cute where we'd both reached for the same head of lettuce in the Produce section of the grocery store and then chuckled and blushed when our hands touched. Random isn't exactly how it went down. I'm not proud, but the truth is I sought him out. I mean... A stud ex-military man in his late 50s all alone in the city while his wife and family were back in his home state? It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
Don't get me wrong. I don't fancy myself a homewrecker. Unless the guy's hiding his band from me, I don't typically fuck around with married men. But again... Warren McCutcheon was too hot to NOT take a shot at. Against all odds, I'd ended up hooking him. We'd started out as a once a month thing, but over the past couple years, it had been more like once a week. No one in my personal life knew. Certainly not my family. I couldn't imagine telling my country club snob parents and sister about him and the circumstances surrounding our involvement. I hadn't told any of my friends either...not even my closest, Brandon. I was borderline paranoid that Warren would somehow find out that I'd blabbed and he'd end things with me.
When he'd reached out earlier in the afternoon to ask about seeing me, I'd initially turned him down. I'd just gotten back home from a work trip and I thought I'd be tied up all day hanging out with Brandon. When he understandably ditched me for his high profile football coach FWB, I called Warren to see if he still wanted company. It could've been seen as the act of a desperate man, I know. But listen... If you'd seen the good senator nude and been on the receiving end of the talents he has in the sack, you'd have called him too!
That's how I found myself sitting in the back of a hired car as it pulled up outside of his secure building. I grabbed the "for show" binder full of papers that Warren insisted I carry with me, climbed out of the back seat and jogged up the four stairs to the landing where the doorman opened the front door for me.
"Good to see you again, Jason," he grinned at me as I walked past. I suppose I should've taken the fact that I was here so often now that the guy knew and remembered my name as a sign that I was in way too deep for my own good.
"Likewise, Clint," I responded with a smile.
He walked with me to the elevator and pressed the Up call button. While we waited, he turned to me. "Business on The Hill must be crazy, huh?"
"It can be," I said vaguely.
As the door slid open and I stepped on, he continued the casual conversation. "As often as you're here after business hours, I hope you're getting paid extra."
I searched his face for a knowing expression that told me we were talking about Warren and I having an affair without actually talking about it. Instead, I saw sincerity which made me feel like a cad for the briefest of moments. Plastering a good-natured smile on my face, I shot back quickly. "Trust me, man. I'm getting my just rewards for all my hard work."
As the door started to slide shut he stuck his hand out to stop it, startling me. "Almost forgot! The big guy called down and wanted me to tell you to come on in when you get upstairs. 'No need to knock' he said. The door's unlocked."
Stifling a laugh, I managed to croak out, "Thanks, Clint. Good night!"
"Good night, bud," he responded. Before the door finally slid shut, he called out at the last moment, "And have a good time tonight. You deserve it!"
I guess it doesn't matter how discreet you think you're being. Nothing gets past a doorman who sees everyone coming and going all day every day. Now alone in the car as it crept upward, I finally let loose a soft laugh. Even though Clint apparently knew what my weekly late night visits to Warren's penthouse suite were all about, he couldn't possibly know that Big Guy was my nickname for him because of his rather plentiful package.
The elevator opened in front of the double doors leading to his living quarters. I crossed the hallway, grabbed the handle and - true to what Clint had told me downstairs - I was able to push it open and walk in.
"B.G.?" I called out softly in case he was on a work call, but loud enough that he could hear me.
After a few moments, he strolled out of the hallway leading to the master bedroom, beaming from ear to ear when he saw me. Without a word, he crossed the room to met me where I stood in front of the door, brought his hands up to my waist and leaned in for a soft kiss. After our lips parted, he sighed with content. "Damn, I'm glad to see you."
I grinned and then teased him as a I ran my hand up the front of his dress shirt and across his broad shoulder to play with the second button on his dress shirt. "I should go away on business more often if that's how you're going to react when I get back."
He smirked at me then blushed as his hands slid around to cup my ass. "When you say things like that, you make me think I don't properly show you what you mean to me, J."
"Trust me. I know where I stand," I said as I popped the button loose on his shirt letting some of his salt and pepper chest hair out to play. I knew it was a non-reply reply that could mean a lot of things. And I guess it was my passive-aggressive way of letting him know that I knew I wasn't first, second, or even eighth on the list of things and people he most cared about. Truth was, he wasn't exactly high on my list either. But my list of best ways to pass a slow day? He was damn near the very top...and for good reason!
Before his mind had time to travel to the idea that I might have meant what I'd said in a negative way, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his for an extended kiss. When we parted, he gave a soft grunt and readjusted his pants. I grinned and reached down to feel his growing boner already starting to lengthen down the right side of his slacks. "Someone's ready to go!" I teased him.
"When you're around, always!" he smiled at me. "But that'll have to wait. I just got finished ordering us dinner from that fancy little eatery nearby that we like."
I popped open another button on his shirt and played with more of his fur, loving the feel of the worked-out mature muscle of his upper chest. "Nothing says we can't have a little fun until the food gets here," I countered.
He smirked at me. "I DO love foreplay."
"You're the king of it, Sir," I stroked his ego as I continued to stroke his cock through his slacks, remembering our phone conversation from earlier when I was at Brandon's when he'd insisted I call him Sir.
"Unf!" he grunted. "You know exactly how to turn me on, don't you?"
"I've learned a few things for as long as we've been getting together," I demurred.
He ran his hands from my ass up my back until he cradled the back of my head with his right one. "Now that you say you know where you stand with me, I can't wait until after dinner so I can show you where you lay."
With that, he leaned in and kissed me again, this time more passionately than before. As our clinch continued, I felt his tongue press against my lips, prompting them to open and let me in, which I gladly did. I wanted to battle with him, letting my own tongue chase his back into his mouth, but I know the senator likes to be in charge so I struck a more passive posture and let his tongue claim my mouth as its own.
