I walked into the political office not knowing what to expect or even why I was going there. I am not a political activist and I didn’t even vote in the last election. Someone pretty much dared me to go in and check things out. Little did I know I was entering into a Bastogne of Craziness. (The names have been changed to protect the guilty and the innocent.)

I am, by my own admission, a fairly good-looking young twenty-two-year-old, the beneficiary of a mother who was a model and a father who was a weightlifter. I have been on my own since leaving home when I was eighteen, moving in with my nineteen-year-old boyfriend who seen abdicated for a seventeen-year-old teeny-bopper.

I worked at Wings for a while. I made some great money but got tired of having to play their stupid games. The manager was a pervert. He always insisted on checking out our attire before we could work the floor and if we didn’t show enough botty or boobs, we were told to readjust until he was satisfied.

I considered becoming a topless dancer - the money was great - but the things I had to do to earn a decent take-home pay was a little unnerving, to say the least. I figured that if I was going to prostitute myself to make ends meet, it had to be on my terms and not that of some sixty-year-old guy that I’d only see once or twice in a dark corner of the club.

A nice young lady greeted me at the reception desk. Her name was Emily and I soon learned she was responsible for assigning work to volunteers. I also found out, that everyone was a volunteer. This was a surprise to me as I thought working in a political party office was a paid job.

I was about to walk out when a rather handsome young guy, about thirty, stepped up and introduced himself. He said his name was David and that he was the office supervisor. He asked if I was looking for work. I told him that I was looking for a paid job, but that Emily had told me that everyone who worked in the office was an unpaid volunteer.

David gently grabbed my elbow and guided me away from the reception desk, saying that technically, Emily was correct, but that there might be opportunities to make money. David ushered me into a back office and closed the door behind me. He settled into a large office chair behind a large wooden desk.

“I think we have met before,” David said as he peered across the desk at me. I studied David’s face, trying to research where we may have met before.

“It’ll come to me,” David added, before inquiring about my job skills and why I had come to the office.

I told him that I had worked in a few clubs and that I was looking for a change of place. When David asked which clubs I had worked in, I froze.

“Several,” I replied, “but that doesn’t matter. I am looking for a paying job.”

David smiled and nodded his head.

“We don’t really have a paying job,” David replied, “But if you show up in the morning, one of our local Congressmen will be stopping by and I can introduce you to him. He is much more connected than I am.”

I nodded my head in agreement. I had never met a Congressman and while I guess some folks would jump all over the opportunity, I was not impressed. As far as I was concerned, a Congressman was just another elected official and not anyone special. I was about to learn differently.

Congressman Pete Samples was a young guy, probably about thirty-something. He stood every bit of six foot four and was an imposing figure. Everyone seemed to fawn over him.

“You can call me Pete,” the Congressman to me when I was introduced to him by David. “Pull up a seat and let’s chat.”

I slipped into the chair next to the Congressman as he looked at another volunteer and asked for a cup of coffee.

“David tells me you’re looking for a job,” the Congressman said. I nodded my head to indicate what he had just said was true. “David tells me you have some unique skills,” the Congressman remarked.

I hadn’t discussed my skills with David, so I simply nodded my head in agreement.

“Well,” the Congressman said, “I do need a new personal assistant since mine just went back to college.”

“Does it pay?” I naively inquired.

“Yes,” the Congressman replied.

“How much?” I asked.

Pete smiled.

“How much do you want?” he asked.

I wasn’t prepared for the question. I had no idea what a personal assistant’s salary range began or ended at.

“What do you think I might be worth?” I asked.

Pete scratched his chin, looked down at his cell phone and stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity.

“I’ll tell you what,” he replied. “Let’s do a trial period of one week, then we’ll discuss your compensation.”

I agreed to the proposition if only to give myself time to do some research. The Congressman smiled and said that he appreciated my taking the job.

“What do you think about ramen noodles?” he asked.

His question caught me totally off guard.

“I like them,” I replied, confused as to the reason for the question.

“Good,” the Congressman replied. “It's about all I have in my refrigerator. Hopefully, they’ll be gone within the week and we can restock with something else.”

The Congressman slipped a set of three keys on a key ring across the desk.

“One fits my office,” the Congressman said. “One fits my Lexus and the other fits my condo. Make copies and give me back the originals within the hour.”

I took the keys in hand and searched for David, as the Congressman looked over a folder with several pieces of paper in it that a worker had brought him.

I found David by the coffee-maker in the break room and asked him where the nearest locksmith was located.

“You got the job,” David said, looking excited for me.

“Yes,” I replied. I thanked him for helping me out and proffered a hug.

“Just keep me in mind when you get to the top,” David remarked.

“I owe you,” I replied. I was ecstatic.

I returned to the office after a quick trip to get duplicate keys made. The Congressman was gone. A worker handed me an envelope and in it, I found a handwritten note from the Congressman.

“Meet me at my condo, at seven” the note instructed, “and wear something sexy, but businesslike.”

The note was signed, “Pete.”

I had no idea where the Congressman lived, but David quickly provided me the address. I showed him the note. David’s eyebrows arched.

“What is it?” I asked.

“He has a dinner appointment with the Speaker of the House, who happens to be in town on a layover out to California,” David informed me. I had no idea who the Speaker of the House was, but David quickly gave me a lesson in Congressional hierarchy.

“Isn’t the Congressman married?” I asked.

“He and his wife are separated,” David said. “Trust me, it’s complicated, so don’t bother to go there.”

“Am I his concubine?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” David replied matter-of-factly. “I think you’re his personal assistant and nothing more, unless he or you decide otherwise.”

David’s words hung in my mind as I drove to the Congressman’s condo. On my way, I stopped off at my tiny apartment and changed clothes. Then I changed clothes again and then again, trying on different outfits. I wanted to be both professional and sexy, to meet the request, but combining club outfits with a business suit was not something I was prepared to do.

I finally decided on a nice solid skirt, cut about an inch or two above the knee with a slit in the side that would show off a little thigh. My shirt of choice was a solid white button-down blouse, with an open collar, over which I slipped a light solid black jacket. I slipped on a string of white pearls and matching earrings and then into some six-inch spiked stilettos.

I brushed back my hair and headed out the door.

The Congressman lived in a rather upscale neighborhood. I was surprised it was not a gated community. I parked my red jeep in front of the condo and made my way up to the front door. Instinctively, I knocked and waited to see if anyone was there.

After a moment, I slipped my key into the door and let myself in.

The condo was impeccably decorated. I sat my clutch purse on the counter top pass through to the kitchen and looked around. The mahogany and leather furnishings gave the condo an elegant feeling. A fully stocked bar adorned a small cut out from the main room. There was also a small office that looked like a library more than an office. There were two closed doors, leading to bedrooms, I suspected. I didn’t open them to see.

There was a large bay window, framed by gold-colored ceiling to floor valance curtains, on another wall that overlooked a wooded area and a golf course behind the condo. I took up a seat in a large Queen Victorian chair and surveyed the walls, which were decorated with various paintings of the US Capitol and various landscapes. There were no family photos and nothing to indicate a family connection or kids.

Suddenly, one of the closed doors opened and Congressman Samples stepped out, dressed in a starched white shirt and dark suit pants. He quickly spotted me sitting in the chair.

“Oh wow!” he said, as I stood up to greet him.

He walked over and took each of my hands in his hand.

“Look at you!” he said as he looked down at my feet and then surveyed me from toe to head. “You look absolutely great. I like the pearls.”

I smiled.

“The pearls or the girl wearing them?” I replied.

“The lady is looking pretty good as well,” he replied with a smile. “Very sexy.”

“Thank you,” I replied, “You look pretty good as well.”

The Congressman smiled and nodded his head to affirm the return compliment.

“Kathryn, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “But I like to be called Kate.”

“Kate it will be,” the Congressman replied, as he slipped a tie around his neck and knotted it. He turned and asked how he looked.

I stepped forward and readjusted his tie.

“Thanks,” he replied, grabbing a jacket from a nearby closet.

He opened the front door and I followed him down the steps and around a walkway to the garage. He opened the passenger side door for me and I took a seat on to the leather seats of his Lexus.

“I’m going to introduce you as my personal assistant,” he said as we backed out of the driveway. “Just be yourself.”

I was nervous, and I was pretty sure it showed.

It was all I could do to settle the butterflies floating around in my stomach. This guy was very handsome and he had a persona of self-confidence unlike anyone else I had ever been around. He was also funny.

“The Speaker,” he said, “He’s a charmer, but I’m not easily charmed. He has his political agenda and I have mine. I tolerate him only because he is the Speaker, but other than that, we don’t exactly see eye to eye on things, except when it comes to cigars and women, but even then, we differ.”

I listened as he told me a story about a personal aide the Speaker had tried to set him up with.

“She had a dick bigger than mine and it didn’t quite work out for either of us,” he regaled. “So, I arranged a transvestite stripper. To hit on him at a lobbyist event”

I didn’t know what to say.

“He was not amused,” the Congressman said. “So, I’m now on guard for the reprisal.”

“So the Speaker is a pervert and an asshole?” I asked.

The Congressman laughed,

“Yes, he is.”

My head was spinning with revenge ideas, something that might impress my new boss and secure my job in the process.

The dinner was at a nice upscale restaurant. The Speaker had a young aide with him. Pete introduced me as his new personal assistant. The Speaker politely shook my hand and smiled.

“Nice looking lady, Pete,” said the Speaker as he took a seat next to Pete.

The aide and I sat across the table from our bosses.

I leaned over to the Speaker’s aid and whispered that I was new to the political scene and didn’t understand “quid pro quo”.

“It means the Speaker wants something in return for a vote,” the aide whispered back. I may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but even I knew what that probably meant.

I leaned in closer to the aid and whispered, “Tell your boss to move the item up on the docket and I’ll give you the blowjob of a lifetime.”

I grabbed at the aide’s crotch under the tablecloth to underscore my willingness to do whatever it took to help my new boss. The aide’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

The Speaker noticed the aide’s look.

“What is it Jim?” the Speaker asked.

“Nothing,” the aide answered, gulping down some water. I applied a little more pressure to the aide’s crotch.

“Maybe we can move the docket item up a little,” the aide said.

“Quid pro quo,” the Speaker replied.

“We have quid pro quo,” the aide replied.

“We do?” the Speaker asked.

“Yes, we do,” the aide replied, looking in my direction.

The Speaker and Pete both looked in my direction. I simply smiled and replied, “What’s quid pro quo?”

The Speaker looked at Jim and remarked,

“You’ve got a winner there.”

I know a slam when I hear one.

Pete replied and said that I was new to the political game. The Speaker laughed.

“Fresh meat is always welcomed,” he joked.

“She’s learning,” Pete replied in my defense.

I arched my back and reached up under my dress to slide off my thong.

“I’ve got to use the restroom,” I said, excusing myself to the nods of my fellow table guests.

As I did, I slipped behind the Speaker and gently rested my hands on his shoulders.  I serendipitously dropped my thong into his lap and whispered, “I know what quid pro quo means. I’ll be right back.”

When I returned to the table, the guys had exchanged cigars and finished off a brandy. The Speaker suggested we retire to the patio. Unfortunately, the patio was off limits to ladies. Why is that no one bothered to even tell me the real power of the Speaker of the House? Or his significance? I knew he was an important guy, but really, I was that clueless. I can’t believe I did what I did.

I waited by myself, in the small alcove of the restaurant, for a good hour. Finally, Pete and the Speaker walked in laughing, with the Speaker patting Pete on his back and saying that he felt like the dinner was an excellent opportunity to get to know one another. The Speaker looked at me and smiled. He walked over and extended his hand in my direction. I politely extended mine. He drew me in close and whispered.

“If you want your underwear back, stop by my office in the Capitol and come see me sometime.”

I smiled, and said that it had been a pleasure to make his acquaintance. I didn’t really know what else to say.

Pete seemed in a very happy-go-lucky mood as we made our way back to his condo.

“If you want,” he proffered, “I can drop you off at your apartment.”

“But my car is at your condo,” I replied.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, “I forgot.”

“Do you have some free time that we can chat a bit?” he asked.

“My time is your time,” I told him. “It’s not like I need to go to work tomorrow, unless you have a special project for me in the morning.”

“I probably do,” he replied, his voice trailing off. I waited for instructions, but none followed.

We pulled into the garage at the condo. He led the way back to the condo and opened the door.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he instructed as we stepped in the door. He slipped out of his suit jacket and hung it in the closet near the front door as I took up a seat on a couch. He loosened his tie and then pulled it from the confines of his starched collar.

He reached into his pocket and tossed a wadded up black object at me. It landed on my lap and fell on to the couch beside me. I looked to see what it was. It was my thong.

“You might need them at some point,” he remarked, plopping down on the couch right beside me.

I quickly apologized.

“No need to apologize,” he deftly replied. “The Speaker was impressed.”

“I know,” I replied, “He asked me to come visit his office.”

“So, do you plan to go visit him?” he asked.

“Should I?” I inquired. I didn’t have any intentions of fulfilling the invite, but I wanted to see what he would say.

“That’s your call,” he replied.

“You’re a fast learner,” he remarked, placing his hand on my uncovered knee and slowly working his hand back and forth on my uncovered leg. “You’re also a very pretty and very sexy woman.”

His touch sent a shiver up my spine- not one of fear, but of desire. His touch was not provocative, although I admit it was a huge turn on, but was reassuring. I placed my hand on top of his and held his hand in place.

‘You’re a cool guy,” I said. “You seem to know what you want, and you know how to get it, in a wildly unorthodox manner.”

“I am a politician,” he replied, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his starched white shirt.

“You’re a pretty risky girl,” he replied.

“How so?” I asked. I didn’t see myself as a huge risk-taker.

“Well,” he replied, “For starters, you agreed to stay and chat with me, even though it is close to midnight and I am a single, unattached guy.”

“You’re my boss,” I replied. “I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

I batted my eye-lashed nervously. He slipped his hand back on to my leg, only this time, he pushed the hem of my dress upwards, stopping short of becoming overly invasive. I slipped my hand on to his, as I uncrossed my legs.

“You’re entering dangerous territory,” I remarked, looking down at his hand.

“Do I make you feel uncomfortable?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I replied. “In fact, if you keep going, I may be forced to get a little more comfortable than I probably should.”

“Get comfortable,” he replied, wiggling his little finger on the inside of my leg.

I silently parted my legs, slipping out of my heels, and arching my back, as I sat back on the couch, closing my eyes.

He slowly moved his hand under the hem of my dress, in closer to my “Oh My God!” zone.

“You’re very sexy,” he said, as he worked his fingers in toward my inner thigh.

“Do you want to get more comfortable?” he asked.

“If I get any more comfortable,” I replied, “I might end of making coffee and breakfast for you in the morning.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” he asked.

“No,” I replied taking in a deep breath and forcefully exhaling  “That would be perfectly fine with me.”

He pushed a lone finger up against my vagina and a shiver ran up my spine. I grabbed his hand and held it in place.

“Don’t stop,” I breathlessly begged.

He pushed his finger into my dripping wet pussy. I thought for sure I was going to climax right then and there. I unbuttoned my shirt, and pulled it from my skirt, giving him access to my lacy bra-covered boobs.

Things were progressing fast. I kept my eyes closed, simply enjoying the sensual way he was pleasuring me.  He withdrew his hand from under my skirt and helped me out of my jacket and my button-down shirt. I reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra, slipping the spaghetti straps down my arms, discarding the bra to the floor. I pinched my boobs with my fingers, as I looked over at my new lover.

He leaned in and silently placed a light kiss on my fully exposed neck, as he cupped one of my bare breasts into his hand. His hot breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. There was no turning back at this point.

I unsnapped the side snap on my skirt and pulled at the zipper. I stood up and wiggled out of my skirt, allowing it to fall to my ankles. I was now totally exposed to my new boss.

“Very nice,” he replied, extending a hand in my direction.

I settled on to his lap, my knees astraddle him, facing him. He had the greenest of green eyes. I swear they sparkled. I could feel his erection pushing against his trousers and my pussy. His hands found their way to my hips and then to my ribs. I leaned forward, biting down nervously on my lower lip, anticipating what was about to happen.

He slipped his lips on to mine, easily and gentle-like. Oh, my God, I loved his slow and methodical touch.

Guys my age were usually over me and done within a matter of seconds. Pete was the exact opposite. It was as if he enjoyed the tease.

I pushed my tongue into his mouth and in an instant, we were physically connected in a way that was unexplainable. He worked his way to my neck with kisses. I melted right then and there. I swear to God, this guy put the “x” in sex. He knew right where to go to make me feel special.

I unbuttoned his shirt. Oh my God! What a chest! I pulled his shirt from his pants and helped him out of it. I slipped on to the floor between his spread legs, and unfastened his belt. I then unzipped his pants. He arched his back and lifted his buttocks off the couch, allowing me to slip his trousers and his boxer shorts from his muscular body. His stiff manhood rested lazily against his lower abdomen, begging for attention.

I used a lone finger to trace the backside of his penis, from the tip to his balls, as he placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. I leaned forward and gently kissed the base of his shaft and then worked my way up the entire length of his stiff circumcised tool, lifting it upwards as I kissed my way to the tip end.

I slipped the bulbous end of his tool into my mouth and hummed as I attempted to go down on him. Pete grabbed my hair and the back of my head.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled as I slipped his massive tool further and further and further into my mouth. He was a bit larger than I had expected. I took in a deep breath through my nostrils and worked my head up and down, his cock reaching the back of my throat. I could feel his muscles tightening up as I worked his tool in and out of my mouth, my saliva coating it.

I was horny as I could be. I wanted to feel him inside of me. While I was in good shape, I silently wondered if I could take him in, because his penis was so thick. I looked up at him and bit down on my lower lip.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

I straddled him again, as he held his cock upright. I pushed the tip end of it into the outer folds of my vagina, then took control of it, altogether. I worked his tool around the outer bands of my vagina and then back and forth across my labia.  I pushed the head of his thick and unusually large penis into my vagina, as I settled down on to his lap.

Oh my God!

I bounced up and down with unabated excitement, digging my hands into Pete’s bare shoulders as he gripped my hips with his strong and very manly hands.

I lost track of my orgasms. I flooded his lap. Tears streamed down my face. I felt light-headed. I settled my head on to his left shoulder, digging my fingers into his back, pressing my boobs against his body. My entire body shook.

He lifted me from his lap and carried me to his bed. I was in ecstasy beyond belief. I was glad I was on the pill. At least I didn’t have to worry about that issue. I fell asleep that night, my head on his chest, listening to his breathing. My sex life had been OK, but never like this. I felt like this was something very special.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of bacon and coffee in the air. I looked around. I sat straight up in bed. Was this real or a dream? The door to the bedroom opened and I instinctively grabbed the sheet to cover myself.

My boss walked in carrying a tray with breakfast on it.

"Good morning, sunshine," he beckoned as he approached with the tray.

I was hopelessly hooked. Politics was now my new profession.