Affairs of State Ch. 01

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Affairs of State

Chapter One

Clive sat in his chair twiddling his pen in his fingers as he watched Beryl, his new personal assistant, tidying up the cups and left-over biscuits from the table after his meeting. The meeting had gone well; he had won most of the concessions he had been seeking without giving an inch in return. That was why he was sitting where he was now, a junior minister in the Defence Department with promotion to a more senior role all but assured.

As he watched Beryl move around his office his mind drifted back to his previous p.a. — Sara — who was now on maternity leave, about to have his baby. She had married her childhood sweetheart barely two months ago, having convinced him that the child was his. Clive had effectively been blackmailed into paying for the wedding, a lavish affair that had hit his pocket hard — but it was better than the truth coming out, which might spell the end of his marriage and his career.

His wife, Rebecca, did not object to his extra-marital affairs; she was, after all, a confirmed lesbian who had only got married at the insistence of her father, Lord D’Estrage — a bigwig in the party and Clive’s benefactor. It was her father who would insist on divorce and withdraw his backing for Clive’s rise through the ranks. It wouldn’t matter how good Clive was at his job, with Lord D’Estrage against him he could hope to go nowhere.

He looked at his watch and then checked his diary — the rest of the afternoon was set aside for reading papers and signing correspondence — mundane tasks that he could not be bothered to face right now — he felt like going out and celebrating his success.

“Beryl — I’m leaving for the day,” he called out to her, “if anyone asks, I’ve just had a pressing engagement come up.”

He put the papers he needed to read in his briefcase and marched out of his office, telling Beryl to tidy his desk and ensure that everything was put away before she left. Crossing the road and turning down a side street, he entered his regular watering hole “Number Ten”, where he approached the bar and ordered a double gin and tonic. The barmaid knew him well and went to the bottle of Tarquin’s that it seemed only Clive Samuels MP drank from. She noticed his glance down her cleavage as she handed him the drink and added the cost to his tab — adding on an extra few pounds for a drink for herself when the shift was over. She knew that he only settled his tab infrequently and that he would never remember what it was he was paying for.

Clive leant with his back against the bar, surveying the other occupants of the room. There were a couple of other MPs he recognised and what appeared to be a group of tourists huddled in a corner. He turned his head and looked in the other direction, his eyes stopping at an attractive redhead, sitting alone at a table nursing a drink. Womaniser that he was, he was soon checking out her clothing, an elegant burgundy floral cocktail dress — not designer, he decided — but very attractive and defining her bust perfectly. Her legs, what he could see of them, were long and slender and his mind started wandering to the heavenly junction at the top of her thighs. He approached her table and introduced himself before enquiring whether he may join her. She looked at him and then lowered her eyes to his left hand.

“You appear to be married, Mr Samuels,” she said, “I do not encourage the attention of married men.”

“I’m only suggesting that we have a pleasant chat — there is no intention for matters to go any further than that. I just prefer to have company when I am drinking rather than drink alone,” he lied.

She looked at him again, before offering her hand, “Anastasia,” she said, “pleased to meet you. But please, just call me Stacy.”

Clive pulled out a chair and sat opposite “Stacy” — his eyes roving once more over her features and the upper half of her body, his member stirring in his boxers as he imagined her stripped naked.

“So, Stacy, what brings you to Westminster. I’m sure you don’t work in the House or I certainly would have noticed you?” he enquired.

“I’m new to London, here for a year and just wanted to get my sightseeing done before I go on a job hunt,” she answered, her ruby red lips opening seductively as she raised her vodka and lime to her lips, taking a small sip.

His eyes lit up as he heard that she was in the market for a job. “Well, Stacy, you make a very pleasant addition to the sights in this area, if I may say so.” He smiled at her and continued, “If you are at all interested, I have a vacancy for a research assistant in my office — you strike me as the sort of young woman who would fit into the team nicely.”

“But you don’t know anything about me,” Stacy responded, “for all you know I might be a Russian spy.” A smile spreading over those luscious lips.

“Well, as I work for the Ministry of Defence you would be thoroughly vetted, almanbahis adresi of course, but you seem an intelligent woman — I’m sure you would make an excellent assistant — not to mention how much you would brighten up my day.”

“Now, now Clive,” chided Stacy, “no flirting was the first rule of the day, I believe.” Even so, she smiled at him and her eyes locked on his. “If you were not married, I would very much enjoy spending time in your company but, as I said, I do not make a practice of keeping the company of married men.”

“If I told you, married in name only?” he enquired

“How so? And why would I believe you?” she looked at him quizzically.

“My wife is a confirmed lesbian — she would no sooner look at you than have her head under the table and between your thighs. We only married at the insistence of her father with the benefit to me that he would ensure I was a rising star in the party. If she were here, she would be happy to confirm everything I’ve said.”

Stacy studied his face, seemingly searching for any evidence that he was lying. “Well, Politics was my Major back home,” she said, “I’ve always had a fascination for the way countries are run, the different systems, capitalism, communism, democracies, dictatorships — it sometimes seems to me that they are all as bad as each other — the rich get richer, the poor remain poor. But I still have a yearning to see it in action, to work in that environment and see how the wheels of government turn.”

“Back home,” repeated Clive, “Where exactly is that? Your English is near perfect.”

“I was born in Nowa Huta, a town just outside of Krakow. English was my second subject at University and I passed with Honours,” Stacy smiled at Clive, fully aware that he was looking at the swell of her breasts in her dress.

“Well, well, that rare breed — a red-haired Pole. I am truly honoured,” Clive joked, “Can I replenish your glass?”

“That would be kind. Thank you, Clive, — I’m drinking Belvedere Vodka and lime.”

Clive went to the bar, thanking his lucky stars that he had decided to finish work early today. He ordered the drinks and looked back at Stacy, who was watching him. She smiled as he looked at her and, possibly unwittingly, licked her lips. The gesture sent a tingle down his spine and to his cock as he imagined those red lips around his appendage. He was brought out of his daydream by Claire, the barmaid, saying his name repeatedly until she got his attention.

Returning to the table with the drinks, he handed Stacy her glass and clinked glasses with her, “Here’s to your new job,” he said as he tilted his glass towards his mouth and swallowed about a quarter of his Gin.

“I haven’t definitely said yes, yet,” responded Stacy.

“True, but you haven’t said no either and I’m the eternal optimist,” he smiled as he said this. He was known for his disarming smile and it had been responsible for a number of his bedroom conquests.

“So,” began Stacy, “if I were to be interested in the position, how would I go about applying?”

“Well,” grinned Clive, “you’ve passed the interview — all I would need are a couple of references and you could start.”

“References could be a problem……..unless you’re happy to accept Polish ones.”

“Well, we’re all part of the European Union, at least for now we are — so I don’t see why that should be a problem,” responded Clive.

Stacy smiled at him; if my smile is said to be disarming hers is downright captivating, he thought, his mind once again imaging those red lips engaged in erotic activity.

Looking at his watch, he stood “Got to dash,” he said, “We’ve got friends round tonight for drinks.” Taking a card from his pocket, he handed it to Stacy, “If you’re serious about the job — and I hope you are — please call me on this number — it’s my direct line — and I’ll start all the necessary paperwork. Just have a couple of references available — in English would be preferable — and it should be plain sailing.”

Stacy took the card and watched Clive exit the pub, admiring his athletic build from behind as he departed. She examined the card and put it into her bag before taking out her phone and making a call.

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A couple of days had passed, and Stacy hadn’t been in touch. Clive now assumed that she had decided against applying for the job — which he had, in all truth, invented, just to get her into his life — and tried to put the delightful Anastasia out of his mind.

He was about to make his way to the “Number Ten” for lunch, when his phone rang. He left it to go to voicemail but, upon hearing Stacy’s voice he rushed back to his desk to pick the call up. “Stacy, are you calling to say you want the job?”

“Yes, Clive — I’ve been, how you say, mulling it over and decided that it could prove an interesting step in my career,” her sultry tones, somehow made sexier over the phone.

“A step in your career eh? almanbahis adres So, you’re thinking of a career in politics. I would warn you it’s very much a cut-throat business — even someone you think of as a friend can turn around and stab you in the back — that didn’t all end with Julius Caesar.”

Stacy laughed at Clive’s reference to Caesar, “Well, Clive — I’m happy to take my chances, eventually, but a foot through the door by joining your team seems a good idea.”

“Look Stacy, I’m just about to go to lunch at the pub we met in — why not join me there and I’ll bring the HR papers you need to complete.”

“Sure, I’m just around the corner anyway — I can be there in five minutes,” she answered, “I’ve got the name and addresses of my referees for you to pass on.”

Clive collected the HR papers from a drawer of his desk and re-commenced his journey to “Number Ten”; it was his ambition to be an occupant of the real number ten and with his father-in-law’s help he felt this was achievable within the next eight to ten years.

He arrived at the pub and ordered his usual drink and a Ploughman’s lunch, selecting a table in an alcove away from prying eyes but where he could still watch the door. About five minutes after his arrival, Stacy walked in. He almost choked on his mouthful of food when he saw what she was wearing; a low-cut black blouse which showed the edges of a lacy black bra, a black leather just above-the-knee skirt and four-inch stiletto heels. She saw him at his table and smiled that beguiling smile before sauntering over to him, her hips swaying to a silent tune as she approached.

“God, you look amazing,” he stuttered, wiping his mouth with his napkin before shaking her hand. “Please go to the bar and order what you want, including food — I’ve instructed Claire to add it to my tab.”

As she walked away, his eyes followed her arse, tightly encompassed in the leather skirt, her round cheeks clearly defined — his eyes were drawn to the zip running the length of the skirt which was undone for the last six inches -revealing her lower thighs as she walked. As she neared the bar, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him, catching him ogling her from his table. He felt himself blush; not a usual occurrence for him but for a moment he felt like a naughty schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Stacy returned to the table with a Gin and Tonic and a chicken salad. “Decided to drink what the boss man drinks,” she said, smiling, “I thought I would see what you like.”

As she leaned forward to lower her plate and glass, Clive was treated to a view down her blouse of her breasts encased in a half-cup bra, the lacy material doing nothing to hide her nipples from view. Clive dropped the piece of lettuce on his fork onto his lap as he stared at the offering on show; Stacy, fully aware of what she was doing held her position for longer than necessary, ensuring that he had a good long look, before standing upright.

“Let me get that for you, boss,” she said, emphasising the last word and making her voice slightly huskier as she moved towards him and picked up the lettuce leaf, her hand brushing his thickening cock as she did. “Mmmm — someone seems pleased to see me,” she continued, looking down at the bulge in his trousers.

“God Stacy — have you just come here to tease me? You look so damn hot in that outfit.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she responded, doing a twirl for him, “You don’t think the zip should be a little higher?”

“I would like to undo it completely and explore what’s underneath, truth be told,” Clive stated lustily.

Stacy backed up towards him. “I dare you,” she whispered, as she watched Claire behind the bar staring in their direction.

Clive reached for the pull tab of the zip, pausing as he wondered whether she was serious, and then started to pull the zip up, slowly revealing more and more of her legs. His free hand reached inside and stroked the inside of one thigh and then the other. He stopped undoing the zip when he was about half way up her panties and slowly moved first one hand and then both of them up the backs of her thighs until he reached her buttocks, gently squeezing them before slipping a hand between her thighs and lightly rubbing her pussy. Stacy could see that Claire was aware something was happening but the front of the skirt was still fully in place so nothing could be seen by anyone else in the bar. After she felt that Clive had had enough opportunity to explore her intimate region, she reached behind herself and lowered her zip to just below the start of her panties, before turning and sitting in her seat.

“So, have I got the job?” she enquired, as she cut a piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth.

“When can you start?” asked Clive, draining his drink and gesturing for Claire to bring another one over.

“Well, as you know, I am currently unemployed so I could start tomorrow,” she looked at him as she spoke, noticing the almanbahis adresi hunger in his eyes, “then again, I am also free for the rest of today if you wanted to give me a private briefing, or should I perhaps say de-briefing, before I start officially.”

Clive pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled the office, “Beryl, cancel my appointments this afternoon — something has come up.”

“Mmmm — I noticed that earlier,” Stacy commented as she run her hand along his thigh under the table.

Clive rose to his feet, somewhat conscious of the bulge tenting in his trousers and took hold of Stacy’s arm. “Come on — I know just the place for your de-briefing.”

On leaving the bar, Clive led Stacy down several streets before turning down a narrow alleyway. Tracy was wondering whether this high-flying member of parliament was about to give her a knee-trembler up against the wall when he pushed open the door of a club called “Secrets.”

“The owner is an old university mate — discretion guaranteed,” he said, as he led her to the bar. “Hi Steve, can I have a room please.”

Steve looked Stacy up and down and smiled — “I don’t know how you do it, you old warthog,” he said as he pulled a key from a nail behind him and handed it to Clive, “Number Four” he said, as he watched the two walking towards the stairs, enjoying the amount of leg that Stacy had on show.

Clive unlocked the door and ushered Stacy in, locking the door behind them.

Once inside the room, Stacy wasted no time in removing her blouse and skirt, standing there in her black lace bra, nipples pushing against the thin fabric and her matching black panties.

“Do you want me to remove my heels? Or are you one of those guys who likes to fuck a girl with her heels on?” she asked as she slowly twirled for him.

Clive couldn’t bring himself to answer; it was not a question he had considered before. Usually the girl would strip naked, he would fuck them and that was that. Did he want to fuck her with her heels still on? He looked at her long legs and allowed his eyes to drift down to the stilettos — he did find them sexy in some way, although he couldn’t fathom why. Eventually he managed to say, “Leave them on — the first time at least — we’ll see how we go from there.”

Stacy closed in on him and slid his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms before undoing his tie which she then pulled between her thighs, rubbing it against her crotch. “Clive baby — I need something harder than this down here — what have you got for your new employee?”

Clive pulled at the buttons on his shirt and quickly removed both that and his shoes and socks before lowering his trousers, leaving him in just his silk boxers.

Stacy ran her hand down the front of his boxers “I do love the feel of silk,” she said, “Is your cock nice and silky too?”

She gradually lowered herself to her knees, her hands lowering his boxers as she did, and took the head of his cock in her mouth; lightly sucking and licking it, her eyes staring into his.

“Oh God, Stacy, yes — oh God take more of it honey — try to get it all in,” he groaned.

Still staring into his eyes, Stacy moved her lips along the length of his cock until her mouth was up against his pubes. Clive could not believe what was happening; he had never been deep-throated before — some girls had managed to get about two-thirds into their mouths but here he was, buried to the hilt in the throat of this Polish beauty.

“Fuck Stacy — where have you been all my life,” he exclaimed, as his hands moved behind her head and held her there as he started to move his hips. When he withdrew slightly, a mixture of his pre-cum and Stacy’s saliva dribbled from her mouth and fell onto her breasts — with each plunge in and out more and more of this fluid dripped onto her until her breasts were coated in the sticky mixture.

“You look such a slut down there. Fuck, you are the hottest woman I’ve ever known and that includes all the high-class call-girls I’ve had.”

He pulled his cock out of her mouth “Strip naked — and lay on the bed — I’ve got to sink my cock into your pussy,” he commanded.

Stacy stood up and unclipped her bra, peeling it off her breasts before cupping them for him.

“Just get rid of your panties and lay down. I need to fuck you — my cock is itching to fill your pussy with my cum.”

Stacy looked at him and smiled as she slid her panties down and off, “Really, Clive — you’re not worried whether I’m on the pill or not?”

“That’s your look-out,” he said, as he manoeuvred her onto the bed, “If you get pregnant don’t expect me to cough up — I’ll have you deported.”

With that he crawled on top of her and pushed the head of his cock into her. Her pussy was wet in anticipation and he slid in easily as she spread her legs and wrapped them around his back.

“Fuck me Clive, welcome me to the team with your cum. I want you to fill my pussy up with your juices.”

“Oh fuck, Stacy, you are incredible — I love how dirty you are.”

He started to pump his cock in and out of her, she was using her vaginal muscles to squeeze his cock and within a matter of minutes he was shooting his load inside her.

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