Politics

Chapter 2: The Charity bash

Thomas failed dismally to disguise the yawn. "Sorry, Sally, no offence."

The petite redhead grinned. "That's okay, we've been at it since six this morning. That makes it a long day. And with tonight's charity bash, it'll get a lot longer before we're home in our beds."

The fair-haired man nodded. In the week since he'd been working for Alistair Brinkley-Jones, they'd all been long days. Today had been no different, ten hours of slog, understanding everything he needed to understand.

He was grateful for the way Sally Howitt had shown him the ropes. The thirty-two year old PR Manager had worked for the Conservative Party leader for three years, and today's final briefing brought him fully up-to-date with everything there was to know.

Sally had given her time willingly, grateful herself for some support in the final weeks of the election campaign. The redhead seemed to know everything there was to know, and she was also about the only person on the team who wasn't in awe of Erika Johansson.

"You've noticed that, have you?" she laughed, as she and Thomas retired to the conference room for a break. The smiling woman unscrewed a bottle of Diet Coke. "Yes, Erika does have this thing about her. She rules Alistair's diary with an iron fist, and woe betide anyone who gets on the wrong side of her. But at the same time, she's fun to be around, and is as sexy as hell."

As sexy as hell? Was that a phrase that women used to describe one another?

"Knows her stuff, too," the PR Officer told her puzzled colleague, before he could ponder further. She pulled her chin-length red hair onto the top of her head with one hand, allowing it to fall back again as she took a swig of the drink. "And is astute as they come. My advice is not to get on the wrong side of her. Whatever it takes, stay in tune with Erika. Life will be a lot easier, I promise!"

"You know she wants to see me?" Thomas asked. Her week out of the country had delayed their introduction until this afternoon. Any time now, in fact.

Sally laughed that little girl laugh of hers. "Of course, she does. Likes to run the rule over anyone new. Look, Thomas, don't think of her as Alistair's girlfriend. Nor as his PA. Think of her as the woman with the most influence around here. That way, you won't go far wrong."

The new Campaign Manager nodded thoughtfully, tossing a hand through his golden, farmboy hair. "You've been spot on with everything so far," he told the redhead, "but this advice sounds like the best of all. I'll tread on eggshells around Erika, I promise."

"No, don't do that," Sally shook her head. "Treat her as an equal, it's the only way. Just... keep what I've told you at the back of your mind. What time's your meeting with her?"

Thomas watched the redhead take a sip from the coke and grabbed one for himself from the end of the table. "Five minutes ago," he winced, glancing at the round clock on the wall above their heads.

Sally's eyes followed his. "There's only an hour until Guus Kessen arrives. How the hell did you set that one up so quickly?"

"Contacts," Thomas replied with a grin, swigging back another mouthful. "I've got it all set up."

"Shouldn't you be involved?"

"Possibly," he answered, screwing his face up in indecision. "But I explained to Guus that I'd let him speak to the main man without any influence from me. But I'm pretty confident that if Alistair plays his cards like I've briefed him, that'll be another million donation in the coffers."

Sally's knowing laugh put him on the back foot for a second. "I'm sorry," she apologised, sliding her hand across her mouth to hide the grin that creased her glossy, red lips. "But if you've briefed Alistair, he'll perform even better than you could imagine. That man's a dream!"

***

"So good," the panting blonde grunted, her sexy Scandinavian accent filling the room. "So good!"

Erika Johansson's hands gripped her boyfriend's hair, urging him on. The sight of his head working between her legs never failed to excite her, though not quite as much as the feel of his talented tongue.

Her gaze fell on the blouse she had pulled up round her neck, then onto the tits she'd yanked out from the bra. They gently bounced in time with the thrust of her hips into his face. The trousers of her fashionable black suit were pushed down to her ankles, along with the sexy black boy shorts.

Getting Alistair to give her head in the chestnut coloured leather chair beside his desk had been a sudden whim. Particularly as she was meeting the 'new boy' any moment. But it was an urge the Scandinavian beauty couldn't resist.

"Yes, yes, yes, like that! Just there… just there…" she gasped through gritted teeth

Raising her hips, she threaded her fingers through Alistair's natural, wavy black hair. He'd need to comb it again before they met the millionaire and secured another donation. Thomas was off to a good start, much better than either she or her boyfriend had expected.

Maybe he'd be as good in bed as he was at his job?

With each moan Erika gave, Alistair became bolder. She'd trained him well. She hadn't locked the door, and knew the danger fuelled his excitement. Feeling his tongue harden, the blonde beauty yanked his head away from her clit. Gratifyingly, he began to tongue fuck her just the way she'd taught him.

"Oh, yes," she croaked, pulling on his hair in delirious delight. Her legs widened until she could take no more. "My clit," she moaned, "back to my clit…"

Alistair grunted as he obeyed her urgings. His mouth sought out the slippery clitoris and took it inside. Erika smiled to herself, enjoying the power she was exerting almost as much the pleasure. Twisting slightly, her hands went to her tanned swells, pulling on the high, dark nipples that pointed skywards.

Letting out a series of grunts, the Scandinavian woman's hips began to thrust back in rhythm with the flicking tongue. Wave after wave of arousal raced directly to the pleasure centres of her brain.

"Nearly there," she groaned, a thin film of perspiration glossing her skin as her body began to quiver. "Don't stop, Alistair, don't stop, don't stop—"

Her voice was hoarse. Unsteady. She felt feverish. What would the media give for a picture of them right now? What would anyone of their staff say if they burst into the room? Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh fuck…

Her body stiffened. She began to pant. Short, sharp breathes. She began to shake, at first barely noticeable. It grew. Faster and faster, it grew. She jerked up, forcing more of her sex into the black face. "Ohhh… fuuuuuuck………"

***

"Tell me about the dinner tonight," Thomas asked as he glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes. Erika was quarter of an hour late now, and Kessen was due there in forty-five minutes.

"A charity bash," Sally grinned. "Big event. George Blair and his lot will be there. So will Paul Collinson and his cronies, not that we're bothered too much about them."

"We're bothered about everyone," Thomas told her, though he knew as much as anyone that the Liberal Party were a spent force. Still, Paul Collinson was a good guy, and could do them damage if they underestimated him.

"True," Sally responded, with that child-like grin. "But it's Blair who we need to knock back. He's been gathering some momentum in recent days."

The golden haired man nodded. Quite how the controversial Labour Party leader had done it, he wasn't sure, but this morning's poll had a three-point difference between the parties. Not good.

"Anyway," Sally added, slipping up from her chair as she stared over his shoulder and out of the glass Conference office screen. "The moment of truth has arrived…"

"Thomas," Erika Johansson murmured as she entered the Conference room before he had time to even swing his head round. "So sorry, but Alistair and I had something to finish off."

"I'll be going," Sally smiled, "but don't forget that Guus Kessen is due in—"

"Forty minutes!" The young Swede chuckled as she finished the sentence for the redhead.

"Okay, okay," Sally said with a grin, pushing her way through the open door. "I should have known better than to think you'd forgotten."

Erika watched her go, and then swung back to the watching man. "Hey, Thomas," she said, holding out her hand. "We meet at last."

Thomas took the proffered hand, but instead of shaking it, the blonde used her grip to pull him closer and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed instantly. The unexpected kiss and waft of perfume caused an instant twitch between his legs.

God, how long was it that a woman had given him an instant reaction, other than Becky, of course?

But then the Scandinavian beauty had swung away again, taking a seat across from him. Her adorable pale blue eyes indicated that Thomas should sit opposite. That way she could keep an eye on the activities in the office beyond the glass screen, as well as observe the fair-haired Campaign Manager.

"So…" she began, putting an extra growl into that Scandinavian accent.

Thomas waited for her to continue, before realising she was expecting him to speak. So? What did 'so' mean? He shifted slightly on his chair. He was being tested, without much to go on. For someone so young—twenty-five, Sally had intimated—she certainly had a presence about her.

When she adjusted her position slightly, he realised a button was open on her blouse, allowing him the undeniably sexy sight of her lacy black bra. Another test? Should he tell her, or respectfully ignore it?

Shit, the blonde stunner had only been in the room for two minutes and already he was second-guessing himself.

"You up for this?" he heard her suddenly ask, as if she was taking pity on his confusion.

"I am, Erika." His reply was confident, decisive.

Erika nodded, stretching one arm along the back of the chair. The gap in her blouse widened. "Good start," she smiled. "Long days, so you're not a slacker. And Kessen's a pretty good introduction, if everything I've heard about this self made millionaire is true."

Thomas smiled. "Multi millionaire, Erika. And it'll be a good day's work to get Guus Kessen on board. Not just for the money, as welcome as it is. He'll be a powerful ally, too."

She nodded thoughtfully. "How did you convince him to support us?"

His smile widened. "I worked with him at Barnardo's. He sponsored the project I was heavily involved with and we spoke about many things, including his political beliefs."

"I thought he was Dutch?"

"He is," Thomas acknowledged, leaning forward as he warmed to the conversation. "But he's lived in England a long time and this is where he made his money. Like most people, he realises the country is in trouble. And I know for a fact that the recent problems with MP expenses have sickened him. I called him after I first met Alistair last week, and told him I'd met someone I believed in. Someone who could change the political climate for the better."

Erika nodded. She'd heard all of this from Alistair, but it did no harm to double check that the new recruit was telling them both the same thing.

Thomas was only too well aware her eyes hadn't left him throughout his explanation, and he finished the half drunk bottle of coke to ease his dry throat. Why did the young woman make him so nervous?

"Alistair is brilliant," she simply said, as if that explained everything. He could have responded, but it wasn't a statement that seemed to call for one. It was simply a declaration of the obvious. "He's going to win."

That was an interesting follow up. Not

we're

going to win. Or the

Conservative Party

is going to win.

He's

going to win!

"It'll be very close," he calmly told the stunning blonde. He didn't know her well enough yet… and there wasn't any room for complacency.

"I know," she agreed, feeding him that beaming smile. "But Alistair will find a way. He has good instincts. He has a good team. And he has fate on his side."

"Fate?"

The beautiful Swede laughed. Her self-confidence was astonishing in someone of her age. Was she really only twenty-five? "I believe in fate. I believe in Alistair. And now you're here, Thomas. I believe in you."

He sat up proudly. It was a bit like a teacher telling a child he'd done well. Her endorsement made him feel good. Shit, he was ten years older than this woman, and yet she had him feeling like a little puppy, wagging his tail at her approval.

"Sally is wonderful," Erika continued. "A Godsend. But Alistair and I need more support. We have a great team, but I need someone we can trust, someone on a similar intellectual level. I need someone to support me in looking after him. You're that man."

The change in emphasis from 'we' to 'I' wasn't lost on Thomas, but despite the way she was establishing control, he wasn't going to ask the obvious question as to whom he was working for.

Think of her as the woman with the most influence around here

, Sally had said.

That way, you won't go far wrong.

"Looks like your man is here," she lazily told him before he could carry the conversation back to her. He followed her intense blue eyes as they flicked over his shoulder, swinging around to follow her gaze.

"That's him," he confirmed, rising from his seat. "I'll go and say, hello."

"I'll get him," she contradicted him, gracefully easing herself up from her seat. "Was it your or Guus's decision not to involve you in the meeting?"

Another test? "I told Guus I wouldn't," Thomas explained, refusing to bite. "That way he can make up his own mind without fear of influence. I promised him that."

Erika nodded. "Very sensible, too. Why don't you and Sally head home to get changed? You've both had a long week, from what I hear. I'll brief you on the result of the meeting at tonight's dinner."

"Okay," Thomas quickly agreed. Becky had been pretty pissed with him when he left at five this morning. This morning? Every morning since he'd taken on the job. An earlier finish might help, and would give him time to collect some flowers on the way home. He badly needed the brownie points.

"By the way," he added, pausing at the door and then nodding at her blouse. "Just to warn you, a button seems to have come undone."

"I know," she told him, in a matter of fact way. "Thanks for telling me, but it took you long enough. Very naughty, Thomas…"

***

Rebecca de Santos pushed her class harder. "And more, ladies! One, two, three, four… Come on, push it, go that extra mile… work those bodies."

In truth, she'd pushed the class a little too hard. She always did when she was this frustrated. Not that they objected. It was good for them. Her too. Forced her irritations out of her hard, athletic body.

And there were plenty of those to force out.

Thomas hadn't had time to fuck her that morning. His new job was taking up more of his time than even he'd anticipated. Did he really have to leave home that early every morning? What about her sex drive?

Telephoning every bank she could think of in an attempt to secure funds for her desire to buy her own aerobics studio hadn't helped her mood. "Get a business plan," they'd told her. Then they might deign to give her an appointment. But the sort of money she was looking for was out of the question. They all said the same.

And if that wasn't enough, Thomas was heading out to one of London's biggest charity dinners tonight, and hadn't manoeuvred her an invite. It would have been a nice treat to get all dressed up and spend the night on his arm. But one thing she'd learned about him was that unless you were a client, Thomas could be pretty thick at times. Maybe when she made her success with her business, she could hire him for the express purpose of servicing

her

.

And with those thoughts, her frustrations returned.

She reacted in the only way she knew how: she pushed her class even more.

In front of her, the tortured bodies twisted and strained as they fought for physical release. She had a spectrum of women, all intermingled. Boring gym-ware mixed with designer leotards; grubby sneakers working alongside expensive trainers; cheap haircuts and glamorous hairstyles both gone unkempt and sweat stained.

They were all beautiful to Rebecca. Beautiful in the grunts and grimaces.

Of course, some were more beautiful than others, she thought with a blush. The slackers formed themselves at the back. The triers were confident enough to take middle positions. And the confident ones—the sexiest ones—invariably positioned themselves in the front row.

Sammi, the blonde cutie from Essex, gave her that look again. That 'Sammi look.' The one that said,

I'm part of the first completely bi generation and I'd fuck you given half a chance

. The young woman's blonde hair danced on her freckled shoulders, those wonderfully thick nipples tantalisingly on show as they pressed against the front of her sweat-stained leotard.

And then there was Brooke, a dark haired model with the most alluringly tight body. She had been coming to the class for a few weeks now and was like a ball of energy. There were times when even Rebecca felt it hard to keep up with her.

Her eyes swept across to Julian, who stood out to her not only because he was the only male in her class, but that he was also devastatingly beautiful. He always wore tight fitting micro fibre shirts that showed off his thick arms and toned upper body. At first, she'd assumed he was gay, but after she'd caught him looking at her ass more than a few times, she'd quickly dispelled that notion.

It was moments like this when Rebecca felt at her weakest, frustration circling around her body, pent up sexual arousal flowing through her veins. If she ever were to stray, fuck someone other than her boyfriend, it would be during a moment like this. The sexual morality of the English always amused her - after all, it was only sex! In Brazil, no one made it that big a deal.

Her focus returned to the class again as she pulled back from her thoughts. Sammi was smiling coyly at her, her tongue playfully darting along her lips. After sending a non-committal smile in her direction, the raven-haired beauty turned her attention away from the blonde hottie and concentrated on the end of the routine.

It wouldn't take much effort to drive herself to orgasm. She'd start to feel much better after that.

***

"Alistair," the overweight man said, firmly grasping the Conservative leader's hand. "I've enjoyed meeting you. You too, Erika," he smiled, swinging around to kiss the blonde on both cheeks. "You have my support."

"I'm very grateful," Brinkley-Jones grinned, sliding his arm across the large man's broad shoulder. "Thomas told me what an impressive man you are, but I think he understated the fact!"

The businessman was nobody's fool. "Now, Alistair, you have my support. Let's not overdo things. But let me tell you one thing," he added, looking from one of them to the other. "I was told you believe in employing the best. You've hit the jackpot with Thomas. He's an impressive young man."

"Young man?" Brinkley-Jones joked, as he held the clear glass conference door open. "I'll tell him that, Guus."

Erika joined in the laughter. "Don't forget you've got to make that call," she reminded Alistair. "Guus and I will finish our coffee before he goes. I hope that's okay?" she added, her pale blue eyes sparkling at the Dutchman.

"Most certainly," the big man answered, the last word coming out as

shertainly

as his clipped Dutch accent kicked in.

"Of course," the politician beamed, wondering what Erika was up to. There was no call to be made, but if she wanted time alone with the Dutchman, he knew there'd be a good reason.