Wasn't planning on writing any more of this, but it just wouldn't leave me! Thanks for the positive feedback on the first chapter. This picks up immediately after.
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So I left the wedding with Blair and Rhett's personal phone numbers in my contact list. I had a few days off in my Wyoming hometown with my family and I waited anxiously to see if either of them would text me first. I didn't want to be that desperate girl.
When I received the brief text from Blair, it shocked me. "Come by the house this afternoon if you can. I'll be home until four."
Of course, I knew what she meant by "house." The senator's mansion at the very edge of Cheyenne.
I made up an excuse for my family and headed out around one, hoping that would be enough time without being too much.
As I sat behind the wheel of the same car I'd driven in high school, the traffic seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, taunting me with its congestion. The red brake lights of countless cars formed a sea of anxiety as my heart pounded. Even though I'd only known Rhett for a few days and Blair even less, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to what could be waiting for me.
The radio hummed softly, playing a mix of calming tunes and classic rock as I switched between stations, but my mind was too preoccupied to focus on anything good that came on. Instead, my focus remained on the road. My foot hovered over the gas pedal, ready to seize any chance to move forward.
I had no idea why the traffic was so heavy at first, but then I remembered, all at once. A scrolling headline from that morning's news pulled itself along my mind. PRESIDENT HAYES SET TO ENDORSE WYATT REELECTION. The actual, literal president was going to be in town the same time as me. Say what you will about his politics, but that made my little law student's heart flutter.
And I was going to the senator's mansion, presumably to have sex with his wife.
What a surreal weekend.
As I approached the gates of the classic marble mansion, a sense of awe washed over me. The wrought iron gates stood tall and majestic, adorned with intricate designs that spoke of a bygone era. They slowly creaked open and it felt like driving through the pages of a fairytale The mansion itself was a sight to behold. Its elegant facade boasted tall pillars and a sweeping staircase, exuding timeless elegance. Ivy crept gracefully up the walls, adding to the charm of the antique architecture.
A second gate -- this one more modern with a call box and small security booth -- separated me from the house. I pulled up and waited. A security guard dressed like a goddamn cowboy knocked on my window, taking off his hat as he spoke. "You must be Ms. Whitehawk?"
I tried to muster all the high-class confidence I lacked. "Yes."
He gestured to the security guy in the booth, who pressed a button that opened the gate. The man by my door said, "You can leave your car with the keys out front. We'll take it back to the private garage."
So I did just that. As he whisked my car away, I took a deep, deep, deep breath and walked up the recently refinished marble steps.
Blair answered the door before I could even knock. I'd only ever seen her in two states: Put together and formal and almost entirely undressed. Safe to say that being struck by her in black yoga pants and an oversized white tee felt almost more intimate than seeing her naked. Her shiny ginger hair was pulled back, half up and half down, behind her head. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed by my uncomfortable flats and tailored skirt that usually made me feel confident.
A playful smile danced on her lips as she leaned against the door frame, her gaze fixing on me with a hint of mischief. "Well, well, look who's here," she purred in that velvety voice that sent shivers down my spine. She gestured, a little sarcastically, to the entryway behind her. "Come on in."
And I stepped into their world, the world that had always been my goal, mesmerized by not only her magnetic charm but the house itself. Even the front room was adorned with contemporary art by local artists and carefully manicured with tasteful, classic furniture that blended decadent with contemporary. It felt both unpretentious and upper-class, an impossible balance. Like the two of them.
I cleared my throat and asked, "Is Rhett home?"
"No," she laughed like it was a stupid question. I remembered that it was. "He's in meetings all day." Then she leaned in close to me and touched the side of my face. "So it's just the two of us, if that's alright."
I sucked in a breath at even that simple, small touch. "More than alright."
"Perfect. Let me show you around so you don't feel...overwhelmed, I guess."
"It's a bit late for that," I offered with a nervous chuckle.
From there, Blair expertly guided me through the various rooms in the mansion I'd always wondered about, sharing intriguing tidbits about the property's past and the families that had lived there. I got the sense she'd rehearsed this countless times as part of her wifely duties. Still, though, her voice was like music, and I hung on to every note, enchanted by her knowledge and poise.
Finally, after seeing multiple sitting rooms and old servants' quarters and countless bathrooms, Blair opened the double doors to the bedroom suite she shared with Senator Rhett Wyatt. Not that it surprised me, but the suite -- a small sitting room with a vanity and boudoir, a huge bedroom, two walk-in closets, and an extensive bathroom -- was magnificent. The warm lighting mixing with crisp clear sunlight through sheer curtains created an undeniably intimate atmosphere.
And, in the center of the main room, stood a California king four-poster bed, draped in sumptuous cream-colored linens that cascaded just to the floor. The thread count was probably higher than my weekly paycheck.
Blair took a few steps toward me, running her fingers along my arm. She looked at me through thick dark lashes and asked, "Should we just skip the small talk?"
In the soft bedroom lighting, her features sang. Her delicate, perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched in a sultry question. Beneath them, those long lashes framed her bright eyes, accentuating their depth and giving them a hint of vulnerability that tugged at my everything. Her coy smile reached up full cheeks that blushed when our eyes met. It was a comforting thought that my presence might make her blush just like hers did to me.
"Yeah, I think that could work for me."
There was a moment of suspended silence, but it felt like an eternity. My heart pounded, hoping she'd feel the same way I did. In that instant, the tension broke, replaced by a shared understanding of our mutual attraction.
As if guided by an invisible force, we inched closer, our breaths quickening in unison. I didn't know how many women she'd been with, nor did she know the same about me, but there was an undeniable magnetism drawing us nearer. The warmth of her hand gently found mine, fingers interlocking gently. She moved intentionally, without rushing, without pouncing on me.
And she kissed me. Or I kissed her. Or it didn't matter in the slightest because then my arms were around her waist and hers around the back of my neck and I felt her breasts against mine and the curve of her ass just below my hands. Our lips moved in sync, exploring each other tentatively but gaining confidence by the moment.
There was no holding back then. The fire between us consumed any sense of restraint. Hunger rose up from deep inside of me as her hands found their way into my hair, pulling me somehow even closer. The heat of her skin against mine, contrasted with the cool air conditioning rooted me in the moment.
I heard her next breath and it shook just slightly. She was nervous. Despite her beauty, despite her status, despite the million miles between her life and mine, Blair Wyatt was nervous. That helped me tap into a confidence I didn't know existed as I drew my hands up her back and then to her shoulders. I pushed her down onto the bed and she sat there expectantly.
I sucked in a deep breath and just let go. I'd been with girls before and knew the broad strokes of what to do and where to start. Every woman was her own puzzle that needed to be unboxed, sorted, organized, and put together to reveal the picture. So I started with what I wanted. Gently but quickly, I lifted her tee over her head.
Underneath, she wasn't exactly wearing a sports bra. Instead, an unlined mesh white bra revealed everything to me. Even though her skin was ten shades lighter than mine, her nipples were nearly as dark, a warm pinkish brown. Like her breasts, they were small but full, almost puffy, much as I hated the word. Perfect to suck on. Which I did, through the slightly rough mesh, until a tiny gasp left her mouth. I knew the tiny scratch on her sensitive tits would get her started.
I reached behind Blair and unhooked the two clasps that held her tits in place. I helped her shrug the bra off and dropped it on the bed next to us. I didn't know her well yet, so I started with the slightest flick of my tongue on her left nipple. That alone caused her to suck in a sharp, yearning breath, which urged me onward. I took her whole nipple in my mouth then, sucking a tiny bit, not too hard, just enough to get her groaning and curling her toes. Her skin tasted perfectly clean like she'd showered while I was driving here. Maybe she had. Maybe the casual clothes were a ruse for how horny and sex-ready she really was.
