Jennifer was right, my work did improve. Whether it was the energy she brought to our group or the subconscious fear of having my ass blistered I don't know, but through the summer I turned out some of my best work and did not come close to missing a deadline. My analysis of the Bosnian situation was consistently on the mark and I knew Jennifer was scoring points with the top floor.
I had become intrigued by the situation in Chechnya and had written a proposal for a comprehensive study. My thesis stated that the Chechen rebels would certainly defeat the Russian Federation in a long war of attrition that would be a constant threat to the new oil and gas pipeline being constructed to the west from Baku. My preliminary research indicated the best policy for the new American administration would be to work covertly to increase the fighting strength of the rebels to the point where a settlement could be negotiated.
Jennifer was on a roll now and she told me she was pushing to have the study funded. One Monday I arrived in the office and saw a brief email from her advising me I would be attending a political fund raiser the next night. Our relationship was good and she teased me with her last line, an admonition to wear a decent suit "-- if you have one. J"
The Vice-President and the Governor of Texas were locked in a close duel for the White House that summer with most of the analysts calling it a toss-up. When I arrived at the stately Georgetown address I honestly did not know if it was a Republican or Democratic function -- and didn't care. I could tell you the ins and outs of most of the Balkan elections that year but really did not give a damn who became the next president of the US. When you work with the Outfit you avoid American politics if you're smart.
I wandered the crowd, enjoying the superb single malt provided by my host, or perhaps hostess. I still am not sure exactly who was throwing the party. Then I saw a stunning brown haired woman in a simple black cocktail dress. She wore it knowing it will always be in style on a beautiful woman and I knew, for that night at least, I was pulling for the Texas Governor.
Elizabeth worked as a staffer for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and was as connected as anybody in Washington. Her eyes caught mine from across the room and the warm smile that beckoned me was genuine, a rare sight in a town of phonies hedging their bets that summer. Twenty minutes later I found my way to her side to say hello. She introduced me to a western Congressman as "Craig, who is doing a new study on Chechnya that we will all be taking a hard look at next year."
Grinning like an idiot I just mumbled something as Elizabeth winked at me. Jennifer had done it! The rest of the affaire was less than memorable and I was soon on my way. That week we moved into overdrive at the office and soon I was swamped with work.
Everything would have been fine if Yugoslavia had not heated up in September. My work on Bosnia was continuing but rumours out of Belgrade suggested Milosevic was on the ropes which would affect everything if the Serb despot was toppled. While I was away on a dark trip to the East for a couple of weeks, a contingency was activated which moved my deadline up a week to the October Monday I was due in the office: Milosevic's Socialist government was overthrown!
The thing about a dark trip is that it is exactly that. No one knows where you are or what you are tasked with. My contact was William, an old friend in Sarajevo and a veteran of the Outfit. He only knew I would transit to Istanbul, although I'm fairly sure he knew my ultimate destination. We had worked in the field together before and he knew the score. Jennifer would not be in the loop on this one as there were just certain things the DC staff didn't need to know about. That was policy.
I strolled into the office a little before 9am that Monday fatigued from my long journey but feeling good about the trip. I had accomplished a great deal. That happy feeling lasted only long enough for me to turn on the computer and check my emails. There was a scathing note from Jennifer telling me how disappointed she was in my failure to meet my deadline. She informed me I was to be at her office at 8:15 that evening.
I spent the rest of the day figuring out what had happened. I was in a jam because I couldn't tell her about the trip and even if I could it wouldn't matter. I had missed the deadline and for the rest of the day I was edgy with fear. A quarter past eight found me standing at her door and knocking firmly.
"Come in", she said.
I entered the office and approached her desk. She rose from behind it and I knew immediately she meant business. The dark charcoal jacket matched her above the knee skirt and set off the black sheer stockings to perfection, and as she came around the desk I saw the high heeled shoes. Still giddy from the trip and mentally fatigued I was no match for her. I felt a tingling in my groin.
Her lips were painted a darkest of crimson that said, "Fuck me ... if you're man enough." Her blue eyes were glazed over and seemed deepened in colour, the effect of her blouse which I could just make out under the jacket. In her right hand she held the paddle, tapping it at her side. My dick was getting hard.
That sorority paddle was about 18 inches long and probably five wide. I had thought about it a good deal in the days after first seeing it. It was well lacquered and I knew the half inch hard wood thickness would wear my ass out. As she twirled it expertly in her hand, something about it caught my eye and for the first time I knew real fear. The smooth striking surface now sported several holes which I knew cut down on air resistance and would add velocity to her stroke.
