Leslie Marie Blaine winced with pain with each step she took upon the marbled tiled floor that led from the visors center towards the anti-infection unit of the Maine Burn Center. As the First Lady of Maine, Leslie had already spent two hours touring the rest of the facility, and being a photo opportunity, several television crews were on tour with the group, snapping pictures and taking shots of her holding bandaged children and watching nurses' clean wounds. Those pictures conveyed the motherly side of Leslie; the dutiful wife of a politician who was dressed in a checkered brown dress that could be worn to any church function and be considered appropriate, while her matching beige pantyhose and black high heels clicked loudly with each step upon the tiled floor. It was the latter that was giving her pain, for the instep of her high heels were a bit to tight and the two hour tour was pushing her toes unmercifully forward into the pointed tip of her shoe. With each step her feet began to hurt more and more until the Director of the Maine Children's Burn Center stopped short of a double set of doors.
"We are about to enter hell. This area of the center is officially called the anti-infection room, but everyone calls it the vat room. Everyday the children are brought down here and soaked into these big vats. The vats are filled with chemicals that strip away the burned skin and keep infection down. While it is something that has to be done, it is excoriating pain for the children."
Even through the double set of doors that were well sealed, Leslie could here the faint cries of children screaming and crying. That horrific sound only intensified as the tour group slipped through the doors and heard a dozen children or varying ages all screaming out in pain. One little child, an African-American kid, gripped his mother's hand as a nurse was beginning to strip off his diaper and bandages in preparation for his soak into the vat of chemicals.
"No mommy, no. Please no. Please don't let them put me in there..."
It was all Leslie could do to keep from running from the vat room. Tears streamed down her eyes as she noticed the children's pain, the look in their eyes, and their god-awful screams. Leslie was not alone. Even the photographers and the nurses were not immune to the pain, carnage and screams that invaded every sense of humanity and compassion. When the tour concluded in the atrium, there was not a dry eye in the group.
"It's truly horrific isn't it? The sad part is, we need to add on. We cannot keep up with the number of children being burned in this state Mrs. Blaine. We would like to do something unheard of for a business and that is start an educational program that is so effective; we have to go out of business. Unfortunately we need government involvement. I hope this tour was enlightening, and that you have seen first hand what we are trying to accomplish. Anything you can do to help us would be greatly appreciated."
"You have my unparalleled support," Leslie said quietly, never in her life being so drained from such a tour. The pathetic look on the children's faces had conveyed so much pain, so much anguish, that no woman with a conscience could help but support such a lofty effort. Sitting behind an oak conference table, Leslie nonchalantly crossed her legs, not believing that twenty minutes ago she was lamenting to her aide that her shoes were too tight. Such discomfort paled in comparison to what those children endured, and it made Leslie ashamed to no end. As Leslie dangled her shoe off her toe, Andrea Houser continued her pitch at funding the centers new educational activities.
"We do have a fund raiser coming up next week. A motorcycle ride in, but unfortunately it lands on Laconia's Bike Week. I'm afraid we aren't going to get the publicity to bring in the donations that we really need. Perhaps your presence there will generate a bit more interest?"
"Whatever you need, in whatever you wish, you just let me know. You, your nurses and this center have my undivided support," Leslie said, but it still seemed weak despite her sincerest support.
______
As Leslie lay next to her husband on the bed, thoughts of the burned children screaming as their wounds were recovered screeched through Leslie's mind. Sex was the last thing she really wanted, but she gave no indication of that as she felt him position the tip of his cock on her shaven pussy lips. He was the most powerful man in the State of Maine and while he could have just about any lady he wanted, the fact that he still wanted her after all these years of marriage, meant Leslie let him have all he wanted, even if she was not really in the mood.
She felt the Governor use his manhood to open and explore her, the tip just dipping inside, sliding into her wetness that had slowly been growing. Just knowing he still wanted her, turned her on; so did taking his shaft, especially one inch at a time, which was what he was doing now. He gave her another inch and then rode her like that, just the tip, in and out.
Leslie protested as she wanted it all. She wanted him to slam into her to the hilt, molding her skin to fit his hands, her sex to fit his shaft tightly. Her sex contracted on the head of his manhood, trying to pull her powerful husband deeper inside her, and finally he took pity on her and gave her more. She loved being filled by him, the warmth that spread throughout her body the complete loss of control. She was overwhelmed by his size, his massive hands around her slender waist, his hard thighs supporting her, pressing into her even. She arched up further to him, offering him more of her, all of her and he took it.
Then he began driving the full, hard length of his shaft into her, letting his balls slap against her, spanking her with them, easing off and then thrusting forward again. His hips snapped against her, forcing her into his rhythm, a rhythm Leslie loved. She dug her nails into the mattress for support and thrust back against him, moving with him, loving the speed and exhilaration of it. Her heart was also racing, her heart pounding even, and her breath was ragged.
She squeezed as hard as she could, loving the ache building within her. The walls of her vagina opened and closed on him like a fist. He lifted her up off the mattress feeling the memory foam shift under his weight as he began moving her body up and down on his cock. Leslie felt so small in his grip, like a lobbyist who was feeling the wrath of the governor, a tender roughness that only her husband could bring. She melted into his embrace as he kissed the curve of her neck, his tongue licking along the ridge of her shoulder, his teeth searching for purchase as he finally came.
Leslie felt it jettison inside of her, a warm, sticky sensation that filled up her womb and made her swoon with enjoyment even though he had not yet reached her own peak. As she lay there, he was still moving inside her, though it was more of a twitch than full thrusts as he tried to release every drop he had inside him. It spilled into her in a slight ooze even as he began to soften within her, her legs still wrapped around him dutifully.
_______
The sudden scream ripped through the Governor's mansion and echoed down every hallway. Instantly Leslie was awake and looking at her husband, unaware that it was her own voice that had made the shrill cry.
Leslie Honey, are you okay," her husband asked, his heart racing as fast as Leslie's from the scream she had just emitted. "You're shaking violently and covered with sweat. What's the matter?"
"It must have been a nightmare. I was dreaming I was at the burn center and they were dunking me into a vat of chemicals to keep the infection down. Oh God Hon it was awful. I was scared, I was in pain..."
"That place really got to you didn't it," he asked with true compassion? Leslie could only nod her head. There was no reason to answer really. Her screaming fit, her profuse sweating and her shaking hands all proved that.
"I just need a drink," Leslie said quietly. "Why don't you go back to sleep while I go down stairs and get a glass of milk."
Giving him a kiss on the cheek, Leslie watched her husband snuggle up next to the sheets and drift off to sleep again, no doubt their love-making a few hours before helping in the regard. Leslie was reminded of that by her nakedness and slipped on a bathrobe before padding quietly down the hallway towards the kitchen.
Leslie tried in vain to get the screams of the burned children out of her mind as she made the walk. At the same time, she tried to free herself of the horrific sight of the scars, wounds and infections they were subjected to. She was thinking of the educational program Andrea spoke of and the impact it could have on keeping other children from enduring what these children endured day after day. She was thinking of this when she slipped past the big cheval mirror located at the center of the hallway. As she passed by it, Leslie suddenly stopped at the sight of her own image. For a second she studied herself, her sleep-deprived body clad only in a terry cloth with robe. Pulling the robe back from her neck, Leslie gave the robe a push off her shoulders and watched it fall quickly to the floor in a puddle of white. All that remained was her own naked body, then she smiled at her ingenious thought and began to walk briskly towards the kitchen.
In a whirl of activity, Leslie ignored the milk and put on a pot of coffee. At the same time she picked up a note pad and pen and picked up the phone. She cared little that it was three AM or that she was blatantly abusing her power as the first woman of Maine. She first called the operator, used her position to obtain Andrea's home phone number and dialed despite the hour.
"Andrea this is Leslie Blaine, the First Lady of Maine. I know its kind of early, but I was just hit with inspiration. I know how I can help you with your fund raiser for the children's burn center. I am going to do the motorcycle ride...but with a twist, I am going to do it naked," she said letting her idea sink in for a second.
"What," Andrea asked completely shocked, the statement instantly propelling her to a state of full alertness.
"Exactly Andrea. If I show up with my usual attire no one is even going to pay attention. But if we make it known I am going to do the entire ride naked, every news group, media company and newspaper will be covering the story. That will give your burn center some serious media coverage."
