Audrey's high heels clicked along the smooth hard floor of the terminal, her pink rolling suitcase trailing behind her, as the rows of gates stretched out interminably before her. She was glad that hers was the farthest at the end because she needed to burn off some anxious energy and kill some time. Somehow she'd already managed to brush aside her strange experience with a TSA inspector and focus only on the immediate future: an unexpected weekend break with Adam, both of them agreeing to swear off work for days of indulgence.
She wanted to text him but he was already flying towards Los Angeles ahead of her, so she contented herself with scrolling through Twitter for the latest chatter about their campaign. "It doesn't count as work if it's Twitter!" she smiled to herself, "and anyway I'll swear it off completely once I land." After reading through some journalistic takes on Adam's latest policy proposals (they were always going after his strong digital privacy platforms) and an instagram model's praise for his latest outfit ("he looks FUN," she gushed), she checked the time a dozen more times and then was first in line to board.
The flight from San Francisco was blissfully quick, with the announcements between "we've reached our cruising altitude" and "prepare for initial descent" straddling about 20 minutes. As she stepped off the plane and wound her way through the terminal to where she knew he'd be standing outside she was breathing fast and sweating slightly. She adjusted her midriff-bearing peasant top and pulled on her new Lennon-esque sunglasses as she stepped onto the sidewalk, scanning the crowd for him. Then there he was: in a crisp blue suit, a delicately patterned button-down shirt, and his trademark sexy brown aviators. It was risky to act too familiar in public but they were 3000 miles from their campaign headquarters and, fuck it, she couldn't help herself.
"Hi," she smiled as she stepped towards him languidly.
"Hey," he breathed as he sized her up approvingly. He would normally try to be cool and contained but he was all in. This weekend was theirs and there was no time to waste. He took another step and his arms encircled her tiny waist, pulling her roughly towards him. Her eyes widened in happy surprise at his eagerness, and her lips parted into a big grin, inviting a kiss whose force pressed her against the concrete wall and thrust his tongue against hers.
"I need to get you out of here," he groaned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the taxi line, but not without stopping one more time to press her up against a fence for one more deep, hard kiss.
"What are you doing?" he asked as their taxi sped along highway 1 to their Venice Beach hotel. She was twisting her arms under her shirt and adjusting something. "I'm overheating," she teased just as she pulled her lacy black bra out from under the thin silky shirt and stuffed it into her purse with a sideways glance towards the oblivious driver. "You're killing me," he whispered, moaning, pulling her long brown hair to the side for his lips to touch her ear desperately. She was enchanted by his excitement -- the Adam from the campaign trail never lost control, never expressed any weakness. Yet here he was. Weak. Desperate. For her.
Check-in at the hotel was mercifully quick which meant that they were through the door of their ocean-view suite in minutes, and even before they could examine the room he had pushed her suitcase from her hand and pressed her up against the wall, his hardness straining through his suit pants and his breathing already ragged. They kicked off their shoes. "Let's go see the bedroom," she chided, but he knew exactly what she wanted: to be thrown across the king-size bed and devoured. He could take care of that. He picked her up easily and tossed her down lightly onto the bed. But after he looked down at her, spread out on the white sheets, he paused.
"No! What are you doing?" she begged, but he smiled and grabbed her phone. "You look perfect, I'm taking your picture." She tried to look at the camera lens but her eyes settled on watching his face as he photographed her. She could see how he looked at her, hungrily, and it lit her up.
"I told you that I was going to need time to warm up and relax," she said hesitantly, "but... I think I'm already there."
"I know, I can tell," he smiled, and, as if to prove his point, he pulled down her gray jeans just enough to reveal her thin cotton panties and finger the growing wet spot at her slit. She groaned in pleasure as his big strong fingers nuzzled their way between her lips with the wet cotton still protecting her entrance. "Please," she moaned weakly.
"Please what?" he asked.
"Please... please take my panties off."
She grabbed her shirt by the hem and pulled it up and over her head as he yanked her panties and jeans down in one smooth movement, revealing her pale lithe body and its heaving breaths of desperation. He took her abandoned shirt and used it to bind her wrists together, pushing them above her head, which accentuated the size of her large round breasts. He grabbed lustily at them, pinching a pale pink nipple in each hand, contorting her face with a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Her pained moans drove him wild with pleasure and, without thinking, he let his teeth sink deeply into the flesh of her upper left arm. "Ouch!" she started to say but it turned into yet another moan, and they both looked lustily at the bite marks imprinted on her skin, spurring them onwards.
