The Professional Ch 01

I went to work in Congresswoman Dollarhyde's field office right out of college. My intent was to take a year or two to work and save money, then go to law school and finish with as little in student loans as possible. I got the job through family connections, and spent most of my time fielding calls and requests from constituents in the Congresswoman's district.

The Congresswoman was a beautiful and accomplished woman in her mid to late 40's. Having worked as an executive in the health care field, she parlayed her success there into a seat on our County Commission, then in the State Senate, and finally a seat in the United States House of Representatives. She was a powerhouse and a workhorse, putting in 15 and 16 hour days with little time off. In spite of that she maintained a youthful appearance and had a fit body that was clearly evident underneath her power business suits. Her skin was tight and youthful, her eyes clear, her legs curvy, and her breast full yet always tastefully concealed.

Often, when she came home from D.C., I would act as her driver. To be honest, I was intimidated by her at first. She was such a powerful and accomplished woman with so much success and self-confidence. But as I got to know her, I couldn't help but like her. She was so honest, so straightforward, so caring about everyone around her. I could see why she had gravitated towards a life of service to others; she truly cared about people. I thought she seemed kind of lonely, but she maintained an upbeat attitude about life and about her work.

She would always ask me about my family. She remembered all my siblings' names, my parents' names, and would ask about each of them from time to time. I felt that she cared about me, about my education, and about my future. And in spite of the fact that there were rumors that she was a lesbian, she was often very flirty with me. I think the rumors came from the fact that she had very little private time in her life and that she just didn't have time for any relationship, whether it be with a man or a woman.

There was an important vote coming up in the House, and she called me from Washington. I was surprised when the receptionist told me it was DH on the phone asking for me.

"Michael, I need something and I need it fast. You were a statistics major before your senior year, weren't you?" I could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Yeah, but I switched when I realized I wanted to go to law....". She cut me off.

"I need to know how our District feels about this issue and I need to know soon. The party's pressuring me to vote with them, but I don't think I'd be representing the wishes of our voters if I do. I need to know which way to go on this." She hung up.

Long story short, I put together a telephone and email survey and had over three thousand responses in two days. When I called her with the results, she asked me what the statistical margin of error might be.

"It doesn't matter," I answered. "Even if the margin was 15%, the people in your district would still be soundly against it."

"That's what I thought," she said. She took a lot of heat for voting against the party, but she gained even more respect from the people in her district, more loyalty from her staff, and what could only be called devotion from me.

I began thinking about her all the time. It was similar to when I had fallen for Amanda my first year in college. I thought about her constantly when I wasn't around her, and couldn't drink in enough of her when I was. I spent every day that she was in D.C. waiting for the day she came home, and every day she spent in the District dreading when she'd go back. And my devotion to her was more than just work. I began thinking about what she looked like underneath her dark business clothes, and fantasizing sexual episodes with her. I must have put my cock in her a hundred times. In my fantasies, of course.

Here I was, just 21 years old, and I was completely infatuated with a woman more than twice my age. I think she must have known somehow, because her flirtations became even bolder, and only added fuel to the fire I was feeling for her. She would say things like, "Michael, you're such a stud, you must have the girls falling all over you. I know I would if I was your age." It was hard for me in more ways than one when she said things like this.

To say I was shocked when she offered me a job in D.C. would only be half the story. I was shocked, but I was also delighted and almost immediately became aroused at the thought of spending time with her. The job was more than I dreamed of; I was to be her personal aide. That meant I'd travel everywhere with her, spend my entire workday at her side, ready to assist her in any way I could.

I moved to D.C. and was able to take over the sublease on an apartment that was being vacated by the person whose position I was taking. I soon got into the rhythm of her life, which was basically work, work, and more work. While she was on the floor of the House, I would accomplish the tasks of my job. When she was in her office, my office was right next door. When she went to a meeting, an event, or a cocktail party, I was either her aide or her "date". She had been ramping up her flirting with me and I often had trouble hiding the boner that would tent out my new expensive suit pants. I'm sure she noticed more than once.

Our relationship changed after an ugly scene on the steps of the Capitol Building. After another controversial vote, members of the press were pushing at her, badgering her with questions and blocking her way. Finally, exasperated, I walked in front of her and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Congresswoman Dollarhyde has had a rough couple of days of opposition on this matter. She will issue a full statement answering all your questions later today." I took her elbow and led her through the path that parted as my 6'2" husky frame started down the steps.

As we got into her waiting limo she took my hand. Once we were seated, she turned to me and looked me right in the eye. Still holding my hand, she said, "Michael, you are so good for me. For once in my life I was speechless and I was actually starting to panic. Thank you."

"All part of the job, my lady," I said, feeling somewhat lame.

She leaned into her seatback and closed her eyes, still holding my hand on the seat between us. I was half-turned toward her on her right, and she was holding my right hand, so I was trapped in this 45 degree position. She would often grab a 5 or 10 minute nap in the back of the limo, but never while holding my hand. With her eyes still closed, she gave a gentle tug on my hand. I wasn't sure that was what I felt until I felt it a second time. I let my hand and arm go loose and when she tugged a third time she pulled my hand toward her. She gently pulled until my hand was resting on her thigh. She placed her hand over mine.

She was wearing a navy blue suit and her skirt had ridden up when she sat down. I glanced up to make sure Karl, her driver, couldn't see. The smoked glass partition was up and the windows were darkened so no one could see inside. Then I glanced back down and could see the creamy insides of her legs under her skirt. She began to move my hand in little circles on the top of her thigh, guiding it across her smooth skin. At this point I still thought that this was just a "comfort" thing, but I had a rock hard erection that I could feel throbbing in my pants.

I let my hand and arm go completely slack and she continued guiding my hand in small circles on her thigh. She was moving my hand higher and higher on her leg until I was well up under her skirt. Small circles, then up and down the top of her thigh, always moving higher each time she brought my hand up. Finally on one trip up, she guided my hand up across her panty line and I could feel where her leg met her pelvis and that funny sharp little bone there. Back down she guided my hand until it was at mid-thigh. She made a few small circles there, then parted her legs and pulled my hand down to the inside of her thigh. My mouth went dry and my heart started racing as she moved my hand in small circles across the soft skin of a spot that normally was well hidden under her dress. I could feel my hard, trapped cock pressing upward against the fabric of my pants and desperately needed to adjust, but I was too transfixed by what might be happening.

Then it happened. She began moving my hand up and down the inside of her thigh, across the creamy white skin. A little higher each time, then down. A little closer to the cunt I had been dreaming about each time, then down. Finally there was no doubt in my mind where this was leading. I was rubbing the inside of my fantasy woman's leg, only inches from her pussy. I didn't care that 20 years or more separated us. This was the body, the pussy, the woman I had been craving for months.

She moved my hand back up her thigh and spread her legs a little more. Then back down the soft skin, then immediately back up until my fingertips lightly brushed her panties. It was like a bolt of electricity went straight to my cock. Without lingering, down she pulled again and I let my fingertips trace gentle lines on the insides of her legs. She paused for just a moment, then pulled my hand back up until it was clearly placed against her panty-clad pussy. I could feel her heat. One more time she pulled my hand down the inside of her thigh, then pulled it up again, this time pressing it against her cunt as she pressed back with her pelvis.

She began moving my hand up and down her pussy while she gently pressed back against it. I could feel the heat and the moisture begin building in the thin fabric that separated my hand from her wet cunt. She moved her hand down and put pressure on my middle two fingers as she rubbed them against her wanting pussy. I felt the wet cleft of her slit as she pressed my fingers into her, then pulled them up to the top of her hot cunt. I began to feel the nub of her clit each time we reached the top.

The fabric of her panties was becoming soaked and moved easily across the wet folds of her labia, but prevented me from burying my fingers in her wet hole, which I desperately wanted to do.

Suddenly the car stopped and I looked up and realized we had arrived at our destination, a meet-and-greet. Evidently she had done the same because she leaned up for a moment and pressed the intercom button and said, "Karl, we're right in the middle of an important conversation. Please drive around until I let you know."

As the car pulled away from the curb, she began moving my hand again. Her eyes were open now and she looked at me. "I need you to finish me off before we get out." I smiled and leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped me with a hand on my chest.

"I don't need that, Michael. I'm not looking for romance, I'm looking for relief. It's been a tough day." With that she closed her eyes again and reached down with her free hand to pull the gusset of her panties to one side as she moved my hand back over her drenched cunt. She guided my hand on two or three more trips up and down her wet slit, then let go, still holding her panties aside with her other hand.

I began to move my hand on my own, up and down her cunt, slightly penetrating her with each down stroke and making sure I gave lots of friction and attention to her erect nub with each up stroke. She was moaning quietly in a low-pitched voice as my fingers did their job. Her pussy was completely bald, and was wet and slick with her juices. After five or six up and down motions, each time slightly penetrating her, I plunged my finger into her up to the top knuckle. She gasped. Again I slid my hand up and rubbed her clit, then down and plunged two fingers deep into her. Another gasp and a hard push against my hand. I began thrusting my fingers in and out of her, moving up every five or six thrusts to run the length of my index finger against her clit.

She was soaked and my entire hand was coated in her slick juice. I looked at her, so beautiful with the little wisps of gray at her temples, her brow knitted in concentration. I could tell she was getting close to coming and began concentrating on her slick clit, rubbing it with my fingertips, with only an occasional dip into the deep hole of her cunt. Suddenly she gasped, grabbed my wrist, clenched her thighs together and started bucking as she came hard against my hand. My fingers fought between her clenched thighs to find the inside of her pussy again. As she moved against my hand in wave after wave of orgasm, I forced my fingers back into her wet cunt and buried them deep inside her. That gave her one more forceful wave of orgasm as I felt the inside walls of her cunt contract on my hand.

When her orgasm subsided, she took a deep breath and relaxed against the back of the seat, eyes still closed. Still holding my wrist she opened her legs and slowly pulled me out of her vagina. I had somehow gotten most of my hand buried in her and I could feel every inch of her as she slowly pulled me out. She placed my gleaming wet hand on the seat between us, then sighed again and I thought she might have fallen asleep.

I leaned back in the seat and waited quietly, and finally after a minute or two, with her eyes still closed, she told me, "Tell Karl we're done with our conversation and he can drop us for 30 minutes at the location." She pulled her panties back over herself, pulled down her skirt and smoothed it, then instantly fell asleep.

I woke her when we arrived within minutes. She sat up straight, and looked at me with clear eyes. Reaching for the door handle, she laughed. "I'm going to be a little gooey at this event, Michael, and it's all your fault.

I quickly adjusted my hard-on and followed her out of the car into the waiting crowd.

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