Over the years Alison had accompanied her husband to many official functions and even represented him at some herself but none had made her feel as uneasy as the one she was due to attend tonight. John, her husband, had gradually climbed the ranks in his favoured political Party and now he was one of only two men who were being considered for the top job. The other was Peter Campbell, a brute of a man, the exact opposite of her kindly husband but someone who had a charisma and an attraction that even she couldn't deny. And it was to his house that she had been invited tonight.
John had unexpectedly been asked to attend a conference in Europe and had left that morning but had insisted that she still attend Peter's house. It was officially a fund raiser to help raise money for the upcoming election but everyone knew that it was really John and Peter's last chance to impress the party's grandees who would make the decision as to who would lead the party into the imminent battle. John was furious that he was going to miss out on this chance but there was nothing he could do so pleaded with Alison to represent him one more time. She wasn't interested in politics herself but she did enjoy the social life that came with her husband's position and she certainly enjoyed the trappings of his wealth and position so, reluctantly, she agreed to go.
By mid afternoon she was getting ready, She would often feel neglected by John at these events but she always made a big effort to look her best, and her sexiest, wherever she went, especially when she knew the other members of the Party, along with their wives or latest mistresses, would be there.
She took a long hot bath and, as her body soaked, wondered what to wear. Climbing out of the large bathtub, she wrapped herself in a soft, white towel and walked from the en-suite into their luxurious bedroom. Patting herself dry and searching through her extensive range of body lotions, she selected the new, scented body lotion that she had purchased earlier that day. Opening the cap and pouring some of the white lotion into her palms, she slowly rubbed them together before smoothing the silky lotion over her newly shaved legs. The lotion was cool, refreshing, and her skin warmed beneath her touch, soft and smooth.
Deciding to choose her underwear first, she picked out a black quarter cup bra, her favourite suspender belt and black seamed stockings. She toyed with the idea of not wearing any knickers but eventually decided to play safe and to wear the tiny black thong that matched the rest of her ensemble. Fitting her bra under her round breasts, she knew she didn't need the extra support it gave, pushing her tits forward. They were still firm with only the slightest sag, a testament to the many hours she had spent in the gym in her younger years, and now, at her yoga classes. And she loved the way this bra freed her nipples to rub against her dress. All night they would be stimulated every time she moved but only she would ever know. Rolling her stockings up her logs before attaching them to each of the straps hanging from her suspender belt, she knew that she was being naughty but no-one would ever know. She loved the fantasy of a man taking her by surprise and not having to worry about pulling down tights. With stockings her pussy felt much more accessible – and she felt much more sexy, even if it was all just for her..
Alison stood in front of her full length mirror and her eyes drifted down her body. She may have been a woman of nearly sixty but she knew her firm, sexy body convinced everyone she was at least a decade younger. She loved the feel of her silk stockings on her smooth skin and it wasn't just her legs she had shaved in the bath. Her pussy was equally bald and she ran her finger tips over her soft lips wishing that John hadn't had to go away. Not that he would have noticed the effort she was making. Politics and the party were the loves of his life and Alison couldn't help but be reminded of the fantasies she used to have when she was younger; fantasies of being taken roughly and used by a real man, one who would push her to the very limits of her tolerance and awake the desires in her that had for so long been neglected. Only once had that come close to happening to her recently and that had been a mistake.
With one hand she stroked her smooth stomach while her other slipped under the tiny thong, allowing her long finger to penetrate her smooth slit and brush against her clit. At once it stiffened as her whole body trembled, tempting her to bring herself to yet another self-induced orgasm. But she resisted, telling herself she had to stay fresh for the evening ahead. Maybe later, she promised herself.
Carefully, sparingly, applying her make-up, making sure her shoulder length blonde hair sat perfectly, she dabbed on a few spots of her favourite Chanel, before finally slipping into her dress. She had bought it specifically for this party, hoping to impress the old men of the Party for John's sake. It showed off plenty of her smooth skin but all the important parts were covered. The neckline plunged to the very strap between the cups of her bra while the hem was just touching her knees as befitted the current fashion and her years. But it was the wrap-over style which felt so daring to Alison as a brave hand could easily make it's way up to her stocking tops, and beyond.
Making her way down the elegant staircase, she was helped into her fur coat by their loyal butler who then opened the front door for her. Waiting at the bottom of the stair was the limousine and their chauffeur. For a moment Alison hesitated because it was with this driver that she had made the biggest mistake of her married life. She had tried to convince John to fire him but he said he was too busy to find a new one so the current one would have to do.
Alan, the chauffeur, opened the car door for her with a smug grin on his face. She tried to ignore him but couldn't ignore the tingle in her pussy as she remembered what they had done in the back seat of the car only last week. Settling into the leather seat for the short drive, she spent the time forcing an image of her sucking the chauffeur's cock out of her mind.
She really didn't need the limousine tonight as Peter was a neighbour but she liked to make an entrance to these events. In no time at all she was being driven up the long drive to his equally impressive house and then the car stopped. She waited until the door was opened for her and, once again, she was met by the smug grin of her driver. She refused his assistance out of the car and haughtily climbed the stairs to Peter's front door.
"Your time is coming, bitch," swore the chauffeur under his breath, secretly wishing he could stay to watch the fun.
The door was opened to her by Peter's wife and they kissed each other warmly on the cheek before her coat was taken from her and she joined the party. She didn't see Peter at first and it was a full thirty minutes and more before he appeared at her side as she discussed the recent fashion show with a few other women of the Party.
"Could I have a quick word, Alison," he said to her, excusing them both from the company of the other women. "I've had a message from John."
She didn't care for the way he forcibly took her by the elbow and led her away from the party but she was intrigued as to why John would send a message for her to Peter. He led her down a long corridor, the walls covered in expensive, original art, until the music was only a tiny sound in the distance.
"In here," Peter said, opening the last door to what was obviously his private office. It was dominated by a huge wooden desk and was exactly what she would have imagined his office to look like, big overstuffed sofas, the walls lined with bookshelves and everything giving the impression of a man of power.
"It's on my desk," Peter said, letting go of her arm. Alison was in too much of a hurry to see the message to notice her host flicking a switch, even though the room was already well lit, nor to notice him locking the door.
As she hurried across the room to the desk all she could see was a large envelope.
"Open it," commanded Peter in a tone she didn't care for as she began to turn to question him.
Alison snatched the envelope from the desk but hesitantly lifted the flat, filled with a sudden sense of foreboding that something was badly wrong and that something even worse was about to happen.
