Note: This story has been published on Literotica before, however I took it down recently in a flurry of editing. Hopefully it is now a little closer to perfect since I took another look.
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Malcolm Worthington was a second; not a Jr., a second. His campaign manager had told him, back when he was just starting out, that people found it off putting to hear his title. He used it now and again when he was combing pockets for donations but Malcolm had learned long ago that impressing them was overrated. He was much better at getting what he wanted when he could squeeze them a little. Begging, especially now that he was running for his second term in Congress, was really not his forte.
Unfortunately, that never had worked with his wife. Virginia Worthington never hesitated to drop the fact that her husband was a second, especially when it impressed the neighbors. Although you would think that for a woman whose primary job in life was gold-digging, that enough doors had opened for her. He couldn't really complain though, she was the perfect politician's wife. She had enough Botox in her face to keep it almost perpetually blank. She wasn't too thin or too fat. Every dark brown hair was always in place and her clothes were always elegant and never too flashy. Virginia fucked that way too. She could rise up from the bed when Malcolm had finished, smoothing her hands through her still perfect hair and have the same frozen expression on her face.
He'd stopped fucking her long ago but that didn't mean it was mutual. This morning was the perfect example of how much Virginia still liked to stick it in. Just as he was about to leave, he heard her calling his name in the icy tone that usually froze him in his tracks, "Malcolm, dear, I need to have a word with you." She was already perfectly dressed, as usual, in a navy, blue suit that looked the same as every other suit that took up more than half of her walk-in closet.
Using the word "dear" or any other term of endearment was always trouble, he had discovered, since they despised each other. Malcolm knew perfectly why he hated her guts but had absolutely no idea what Virginia was such a cunt about. Malcolm tried every trick that worked so well with everyone else, donors, constituents, employees and they all thought he was a great guy. And if they didn't, they had the decency to shut the fuck up about it, but not Virginia. "Honey, I'd love to talk to you but I'm running late as it is," with every word, her right eyebrow rose higher and higher on her forehead. She should really work on the Hill, she wouldn't take no for an answer.
"It won't wait," she curled her red, manicured nails over his forearm and Malcolm thought if they were just another inch longer, she would look like she had talons. Virginia would make an excellent dragon, it would actually fit her personality perfectly. "Tomorrow Ashley is coming home from school."
He almost dropped his briefcase and immediately, he felt too warm in his clothes. "What the fuck, Virginia? Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" Malcolm was grateful that he hadn't eaten breakfast. As it was, the coffee seemed to curdle and churn inside.
She looked triumphant, removing her hand and placing it on her hip. She stuck her chin out, "because I knew that you would react like this."
Virginia had a point but he'd never admit it. When it came to Ashley, most things were better left unsaid, "what did she do now?" She was completely foreign to him and she had been for longer than he could remember. She was like a hurricane, Ashley wasn't happy until everything around her was in shambles.
Virginia rolled her fingers together and Malcolm knew that his wife was craving a cigarette, an indulgence that she had told everyone she had given up long ago. He knew that she would sneak one occasionally. His wife was so fucking fake, but so was he, which was why Ashley was such an anomaly. "There was a misunderstanding with the headmaster and one of the teachers had some accusations of cheating." There was more, she hadn't finished but he exploded.
"Goddammit! Why do I spend fifty thousand a year on school for that little bitch?" She might as well go in the city with all of the other thugs. She's already a fucking criminal, might as well learn something goddamn useful." Private school and the promise of molding her into a young lady was bullshit and they both knew it. What Ashley needed was a cage. Better yet, to be cut loose altogether. He'd done his time and he felt like the prison sentence should be over. "I'm going to go make some phone calls, she's got to stay," his face was red and Malcolm assumed that the large vein on his forehead was bulging.
"One more thing," Virginia wasn't done with the knife and her thin smile gave him the goosebumps, "she'll be coming to work for you when she gets back. She needs a job. If she's not going to stay in school, she has to do something," Virginia rushed to add the last part, "and she totaled the car."
Malcolm shook his head no, "no way in hell, Virginia. She's not coming to the office." His wife knew what their daughter would do there. It would be non-stop chaos and knowing Ashley, it would all be newsworthy.
Virginia had turned and was headed up the stairs, "it's not really up for discussion, Malcolm. Until you find something else for her, she's coming to work with you."
He was fuming and marched to the car, pushing past the driver as he opened and closed the back door for him. Once inside, out of the way of Virginia's prying eyes, Malcolm sighed and rubbed his forehead. There had to be somewhere she could go. She wasn't going to ruin anything else, he couldn't let her. The problem was that it had never mattered in the past. Anything that they had tried, the girl was a goddamn genius at skirting consequences. He wondered for the hundredth time about military school, knowing that they'd never accept her. She never respected authority.
That and the fact that she was so beautiful.
Malcolm told himself to stop right there, he couldn't afford to reminisce right now. There was a damn good reason for her to not be under their roof once again and it hadn't started that night but that was when he knew that he was definitely powerless when it came to Ashley.
It was just a barbecue, something simple, other families did these kinds of things all the time. Why couldn't they? It was just a couple of his real friends and a few of Virginia's fake ones. Ashley was home and grounded as usual and her ghostly presence was a minor annoyance but after a few cocktails, it was even possible to look past her. She had slunk away and Malcolm supposed that he knew she must be up to no good. When his neighbor Patrick, a circuit court judge, pulled him aside, a look of sheer panic on his face, Malcolm suspected it had something to do with Ashley. "Malcolm, I've got to say something. I am so fucked," he grabbed Malcolm's forearm. "You know me, if she says I started it, you know she's lying, right?" the man's eyes were wild and he was almost whispering, obviously terrified of the wives overhearing.
He drained his cocktail glass and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. For a while, maybe almost a month, Ashley had actually been on her best behavior. Still a beast, but Malcolm was beginning to think that school was helping. "What did she do now?" he asked Patrick, sounding exhausted.
"She was in the kitchen and leaning over the counter, and well, you know what she was wearing," they all knew. Essentially it was a tee-shirt that ended about two inches below her ass and it had been painfully obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra all evening. The breeze had kept her nipples hard and the fabric was snug and Ashley did everything deliberately so Malcolm just tried not to look. "I walked past and said excuse me and she pushed her ass out and rubbed up against me," his friend looked sick. Patrick was about as square as they came but he was a red-blooded male for Christ's sake, "I had a hard-on." Malcolm wondered who looked more ashamed, Patrick or him, "how could I not?"
It was the same excuse Malcolm had been using with himself all evening. She was young and ripe and about as fuckable as she could be with her long, black hair, her big, blue eyes and her pale, pink lips. Ashley had the face of an angel with a body for sin although neither seemed to be entirely accurate. "I know," he nodded, "so what happened next?"
Patrick didn't want to tell him. He looked over Malcolm's shoulder, just to check and make sure that the wives were still busy gossiping. "She grabbed my hand and put it on her breast," and although he clearly regretted it, the judge was still in a haze of want and shame, something Malcolm was more than familiar with. Poor Patrick, he hadn't ever stood a chance against that. Malcolm didn't think that anyone could. "Her nipples, well you know, they were hard all night," he shook his head, staring at the ground, "well, I guess I was feeling her up but then when I stopped, she said she was going to tell my wife."
Fucking Ashley, leave it to her to pull something like that. Ruining a man's marriage just because she wanted a little attention. In Patrick's case, if rumor of something like this, feeling up the neighbor's teenage daughter ever got out, even his job would be in jeopardy. Malcolm bent his head and whispered in his friend's ear, "don't worry, I will talk to her and she won't say a word. I know you," he clasped his hand on Patrick's shoulder, "you're a good guy. It's her. It's always fucking her."
"But I was, I mean I was doing what she is going to say I was doing," the judge sounded sick, "Christ, Malcolm, believe me, I thought of doing a lot more."
The wives were wondering what the two of them were up to, "go back to the table, don't say a fucking word and let me take care of this." Malcolm never questioned Patrick's story and he was shaking with rage by the time he got to the kitchen. There she was, bent over exactly as Patrick had described, headphones in her ears, oblivious to what she had just put a decent man through.
