"'The Washintonian's' Most Eligible Bachelor in DC certainly didn't smile much as a kid, must have been because you were so accident prone. How many different bones did you break?"
"Why are you looking at my photo album? Is The Post now going to do a story on my childhood?"
"No, come on, let me look, we've been dating for almost two months now and I know nothing about you except being childhood friends with the First Lady, Yale law, Chicago community organizing, and whamo, you are one of the top advisors to the President of the United States. Oh, is this obituary of your father? That must have been difficult for your mother. How old were you?"
"12 but ..."
"You see, I knew you could smile! Oh, now I get it, I see the connection, you were a basketball star. Is that how you got to know the President?"
"It helped. Speaking of which, I'm suppose to be meeting Ryan shortly over at the neighborhood court. Don't you have that interview in a bit, or do we have enough time for a quickie?"
"A quickie? Really Stephen, please don't be so crass."
"Come on Lynda, you know you need a good fuck," Stephen said as he leaned over from behind her, placing his hands on her small tits.
"Stephen, stop! You know I don't like that, and get your hands off me. What's gotten into you?" Lynda pushed his arms away and put down the photo album she'd been glancing through. She stood up, glaring at him.
"Yes, yes," he said, almost sighing. "Will you be around tonight?"
"Sorry, but you know I have this dinner, it'll be late then I'm off with the President on his tour of Europe. I'm sorry you aren't coming. I guess I'll see you in about a week."
"Yes, I suppose in a week. Enjoy the trip."
Lynda gave him a light peck on the lips and let herself out as Stephen went upstairs to change for his basketball game. A little one-on-one would be good right now, he reflected; help get his mind off being so horny. He laughed to himself, "How did I ever end up with such a prude, must be my punishment for previous sins, no doubt."
Stephen walked over to the local neighborhood basketball court where he enjoyed playing and shooting, finding himself in another world from the one he worked in at the White House. There was a younger black girl shooting at one end by herself, so he began warming up at the other end of the court waiting for his colleague, Ryan. After a few minutes he heard his phone ringing, it was Ryan to apologize that he wasn't able to make it, his wife having made other plans for him.
Stephen continued to shoot by himself, enjoying the time alone, no thoughts of politics to disrupt him.
"Yo! Hey you. What you doing? Sleeping over there? Can you toss me my ball?"
Stephen was jolted from his quiet focus on his shooting, by the yelling girl. He looked around and saw her ball rolling by which he ran and scooped up. Rather than toss it to her, he dribbled it over to the other side of the court and introduced himself.
"I'm Reesa," the attractive young black girl replied. Stephen sized her up, guessing her to be in her early 20s, and noticing quite joyfully her well-endowed breasts that jiggled every time she moved.
"Yo, white boy, I'm up here!"
Stephen had been busted staring at her breasts and turned a few shades red as he moved his eyes back up to her equally beautiful young face. She was dark, with full lips, a thin face with high cheek bones, a long neck, and perfect black silky skin.
"What's your game, you into us dark ladies, or what?"
"Just appreciating the view, not too many beautiful sights in this neighborhood."
"Your lame. You gotta do better than that white boy if you want to get into my pants."
Stephen just started laughing, taken aback by her boldness.
"Looks like yous got stood up by your friend. So let's make this interesting. A lil one-on-one?"
"I don't know, I don't want to embarrass you or anything. I mean how would it look if you got your ass wooped by a 'white boy'?" slipping into his best ability to pull off a ghetto accent.
Reesa cracked up laughing, whether by his horrible fake accent or his claim to being able to beat her, Stephen didn't know. But amused none the less, particularly as her laughter made her big tits shake under her t-shirt.
"Oh, white boy talks big. Too bad you ain't big where it counts."
"My dear, you don't know what you are missing out on."
"Shit man, you's all talk. OK, let's put your money where your mouth is. Game of 21. You win, you get to see my tits that you keep staring at. I win, I get to see your puny ass of a dick and you pay me a hundred bucks."
"What? You've got to be kidding me. My dick plus a hundred bucks? That doesn't seem fair."
"Dayum, you should pay me more, but I'm going light on you. That's the deal, take it or leave it. You know who's going to kick who's ass, so you better have that hundred."
Stephen stood there for a moment staring at her, wondering if she was for real. And wondering if this wasn't some kind of setup. He could see the headlines tomorrow, White House aide busted in basketball sex scandal.
As he stood there wondering what to do, Reesa shook her tits at him.
"What you waiting for white boy? Ain't you tempted?"
Stephen couldn't help but laugh. This was too unreal to be a setup.
"Here, I'll even let you bring the ball in first. You ain't got a chance girl. I can't wait."
"You'll be waiting a long time, loser."
With that Reesa took the ball from Stephen and ran it back to half court and started dribbling her way in. Stephen played her loosely, trying to feel her game out. It was a mistake, she easily drove him in towards the basket and took a jump shot. Within a few minutes the score was six to nothing, Reesa.