Our trip back to our District was great. I got to spend some time with my Dad and stepmother, Alicia, who was really the only mother I had ever known. My real mother had died giving birth to me, and Alicia was my Mom as far as I was concerned. I never knew my real Mom's family; Alicia's family was my family.
I was back in the office where I used to work, but this time I was the Big Man from the D.C. office. It was really fun, and my former coworkers spared me no grief in how they ribbed me. As always, the Congresswoman had a hectic schedule, but she did manage some office time, meeting directly with her constituents to listen to their problems and tell them she would do as much as she could to help them.
While there I was constantly mulling over her cryptic remark that she understood that it was tough for me to have to service her and give her pleasure, but that I got none in return. She said she had a plan, and that ramped up my erotic fantasies about her threefold. But I had no way of knowing if her plan included me fucking her silly or not. I certainly did hope so. How could I be this crazy over a woman twice my age?
Our return trip to D.C. was during the day, so it was filled with work instead of advanced foreplay. We landed at Dulles late in the afternoon and went directly to the office. It was a long limo ride, and I wasn't surprised when DH took hold of my hand and put it up her dress as soon as Karl closed the door.
"Ooh, I wanted you to do this on the plane, but I couldn't figure out how," she said as I lightly pinched the puffy outer lips of her vulva through her panties. It took me less than ten minutes to get her off, and when she had put herself back together I broached the subject of "her plan".
"You told me you had a plan before we left for the District. Are you ready to share?" I was hoping that maybe her plan was to return the favor and give me a handie.
"Yes I do, and yes, I am," she replied.
"I'm all ears," I said, sliding a little closer to her.
"Well," she started. "You remember my friend, Ada, the judge? She needs a little favor."
"What kind of favor?" I didn't like the sound of it already.
"I think you know what kind of favor, Michael." She leaned in towards me.
"Ada?" I asked, somewhat shocked. "She's got to be 55 years old if she's a day. And not all that slim and trim, I might add." Having sex with Ada would have never crossed my mind. "I don't know....." I said hesitantly.
"Oh, Michael, a pussy's a pussy. Anyway, the President has already told Ada that when the Chief Justice retires he's going to nominate her. She knows I'll support her vocally, even though we're on different sides of the political aisle. But if you sleep with her, we'll own her. Especially with certain proclivities she has. Like it or not, Michael, this is how politics works. It's about getting people to owe you favors. Ada will owe us big time."
"Still," I said. "I'm not even sure I could get it up for her." And I was more than a little worried about the word "proclivities".
DH laughed and said, "Oh, I don't think that will be a problem. Just think about what you were just doing to me. I noticed you had a pretty big hard-on just now. Just think about my hand wrapped around your cock while you're doing it to her. And who knows, if you're a good boy, maybe your dreams will come true." She gave me a sidelong glance.
Long story short, I eventually agreed and DH gave me Ada's address. I saw that it was in the Watergate Building. When DH wrote down the address for me she also wrote down '10:00 tonight' below it. Wow, not wasting any time, are we?
* * * *
I caught a cab at 9:45 from my apartment and told the cabbie that I was going to the Foggy Bottom area. I had gone home after work, grabbed a bite to eat, taken a shower, and put on some Dockers and a polo shirt. When the cabbie pulled up to the Watergate, I over-tipped him and told him to wish me good luck, which he replied to by saying something unintelligible in a foreign language.
I had been ready to turn back for the entire ride, and I still wasn't sure I was going to be able to go through with it. Judge Ada Sinsheimer? I couldn't imagine having sex with her, but here I was in front of the Watergate getting ready to do just that. She was old; she was chubby; she was married; and she just wasn't anyone with whom I would normally even think about having sex.
I found the front door and announced myself to the doorman, who told me I was expected. It took me a few minutes to get up to her apartment, and I felt ready to flee at any minute. Riding in the elevator made me feel like a trapped animal in a cage. When I finally found her door, it took all my willpower to knock. Once done, I was all in.
Ada opened the door and I was relieved to see she really wasn't as old and fat as I had made her out to be in my mind. Yes she was older, and yes she was a bit overweight, but she really looked very nice and fresh, dressed in a cream-colored linen pantsuit. She invited me in and as I stepped across the threshold I was taken by the size and beauty of her apartment. It was tastefully decorated and had a great view of the JFK Center and the Potomac. Ada stepped forward and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and thanked me for coming.
"I was thrilled when DH said you were going to come by, Michael," she said as she closed the door behind me. "Can I get you something to drink?" "Sure, I answered. "Martini if you've got olives, please."
"Martinis are my specialty, darling. Do you like yours dry?" I couldn't help but hope she was talking about the martini.
"Yes," I answered. "Very dry." I almost winced when I said it because a very bad image popped into my mind.
She moved behind the wet bar against the far wall and I followed her over and sat on a stool. She pulled a bottle of Bombay Sapphire from the back shelf and poured a heavy dose into the shaker, followed by four drops of dry vermouth. After adding ice, she closed the shaker and began shaking the drink with two hands above her right shoulder. I started getting cold feet again as I saw her overweight body shake every bit as much as the martini. Pulling two chilled glasses from a cooler below the bar, she filled both, dropped a couple of olives in each, then a coiled-wire olive retriever in each glass, and handed one to me.
"Cheers," she said as she raised her glass.