The Secret of the Secret Service

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Amy Lynn Steel was seething with anger as she finished changing into the clothes that had been provided for her by her superiors and now stared intently into the full length mirror. Never in her life had she felt so much indignation; so much contempt for a system that was obviously still male dominated.

“Heels,” she scowled to herself as she looked at the black pumps she had been forced to wear. Complete with four inch stiletto heels, there was no practical application for the shoes of a Secret Service Agent assigned to protect a prominent Senator about ready to run for election. She could barely balance on them in front of the mirror, let alone chase down a potential threat to the Senator’s well being. The rest of her outfit was no better with a white blouse that was interestingly a size to tight and restricted her movement, while her gray wool blazer did not have so much as a pocket to help her keep any of the paraphernalia a secret service agent was required to carry.

But aside from the heels, it was the skirt that truly angered Amy. Accustomed to wearing suit pants, Amy had never spent a day working for the Secret Service in a skirt, let alone anything this short. Even standing, the hemline of the matching gray wool skirt failed to reach the mid way point from her waistline to her knees despite numerous attempts to tug the skirt down. Amy found herself now gripping the edge of the skirt and pulling it taunt again even though it did little for her modesty. As her hands slipped over her legs however, they made a slight zipping sound on the beige nylons that had also came with the required outfit. For the first time since putting on the attire, Amy realized she could at least do something about the nylons, an article of clothing that she absolutely no loathed. While a case could be presented for the feminine look of the skirt and blouse, from afar it would make no difference if she was bare legged or wearing the hot, restrictive pantyhose Amy had always disliked. So raking her thighs with her fingernails, Amy flashed a devilish smile as the runs began to appear in the fragile nylon pantyhose.


With her nylons sporting a big run, Amy removed herself from the bathroom and walked on clicking heels back to the logistics room to show her boss. Standing before him, she pointed to her ripped nylons.

“I won’t be able to wear the nylons sir as I accidentally tore them while putting them on,” she said unable to hide her lie with a smile.

“We kind of figured you might go through a pair or two Amy,” he said sliding a new package across the folded table that he had produced from his pocket. Amy could feel her hands begin to shake as she looked down at the new package and realized she was as transparent as glass.

“I’m filing a grievance on this,” Amy said in a monotone voice, doing her best to control the rage she felt inside. “How am I supposed to chase potential threats while teetering on heels as high as this, or go for my weapon in such a restrictive blouse? This seriously hampers my ability to do my job and you know it.”

“Amy there is nothing to discuss. The Senator has specifically asked for you to be on this detail, but since he is about to announce his new proposal on women and infant nutrition, he wants you to look more lady-like. You could be in a news byte on tonight’s news you know? Besides you know the rules, if a detail requires a certain dress code, as Secret Service agents were are obligated to honor that request.”

“Bullshit, the man is a womanizer and just wants to see me in a short skirt and you know it.”

“Be that as it may Amy, the Senator has insisted upon these clothes. Unless you want to spend the rest of your Secret Service career chasing counterfeiters in Prudhoe Bay, I suggest you go into the ladies room and change out those nylons.”

“Yeah well you can change your fucking clothes too,” she said as Amy backhanded a cup of coffee that was sitting on the table. In amazing speed, the styrofoam cup went sprawling into her bosses thighs soaking him with hot coffee as she turned on one heel and walked out of the room. Even with steaming hot coffee searing his skin, he grinned a little at Amy’s fine form as it strutted in anger towards the ladies room again.

“She’s a spit-fire isn’t she,” another secret service agent said walking over to the Detail Commander?

“Yes she is, but you know she took it better then I thought she would.”

Amy was formulating the grievance letter to her superiors as she sat at the long table of the Senator situated in the Minneapolis Convention Center. Her suspicions about the true reason for her strict dress code were clearly evident by the plan described at the security briefing a half hour before. She would be four places down from the Senator at the convention center, and then accompany him in his limousine on the way back to the hotel. It was the latter part where Amy’s rather revealing clothing would certainly come into play. As a few speakers took to the podium and droned on about Washington’s latest ideas on how to improve women’s Travesti health, Amy wondered how many times she was going to have to push the Senator’s hand from off her legs while in the limousine. She was determined to count every time he did so, just to add sustenance to her letter.

At the present time however, she was just bored. It was the one aspect of being a secret service agent that the academy had not trained her for; the endless hours of monotone speeches that were so carefully worded that every one of them sounded identical to the last. The hours in the conference center would have been easier to endure if adding pain to an already insulting situation was not occurring. Unaccustomed to wearing pumps, much less ones with four inch stiletto heels to them, Amy’s feet were beginning to hurt.

Already her shoe play had consisted of heel popping, some dipping and dangling, but Amy would have loved to pull both shoes from her aching feet and sat there barefoot, but she knew that would have been wrong for a secret service agent that was always prepared. Instead, Amy pulled her foot completely out of her right shoe and curled her foot around her other foot and flexed her foot, stretchy what was a very aching foot. As she did so Amy made sure she spread them several times letting the drabby fluorescent lighting of the convention center soak through the nylons and show she had painted her toes a bright fire engine red color.

For the next few minutes Amy toyed with her shoes, rocking her foot back upon her black shoes, letting the heel tip back sharply as her toes pressed against the top of the pumps which brought her arches almost completely out of her shoes. With the table keeping anyone from seeing what she was doing, Amy shifted her foot so that her toes were forced down, but only for a second, and only long enough for her to pull her foot completely out of her shoe. Now completely withdrawn, Amy ran her nylon-clad foot slowly along the bottom half of her calf, letting the top of her foot massage her ever tightening calf as she toyed her shoes in boredom.

Amy also noted that she was not the only one that seemed to be bored. Across from her was Dr. William McAlhany, a man that had been introduced as a major contributor to the woman’s and infant’s nutrition fund. He was fidgeting in his seat and seemed rather distracted, looking around the large convention center as the current speaker droned on endlessly about obesity and children.

On one of his fidgeting moves, their legs collided and he looked own to see Amy’s feet shoving her shoes around in small figure eights. Looking up, his eyes met Amy’s and a grin formed. Amy had seen this before and surmised the man had a foot fetish and enjoyed how her feet looked out of her shoes rather then in them. What possessed Amy to do what she did next Amy was not sure. Perhaps it was the boredom of the moment, or maybe it was the rather the rather revealing outfit that made her feel seductive, but Amy began to play footsie with the man, first nudging his calves with her nylon covered feet, but then followed his leg and until she pressed her nylon covered toes into the apex of his legs to make the man really squirm.

Amy grinned expecting him to be thrilled by the prospect of what she was doing, but instead he looked horrified. Amy was not sure why until her toes pressed into something extremely hard and it was not his shaft growing in intensity from her foot pressing his genitals. She could feel a shaft indeed, but as the dexterity of her toes found the L shaped object and then the trigger guard, Amy quickly realized the Doctor had a pistol shoved into his waistband.

In a split second, the Doctor realized Amy knew what he was really there for. At the same time he scrambled for his pistol, Amy began to leap across the table. The Doctor was able to bring the pistol up and aimed it towards the Senator sitting at his seat watching the speaker respectfully. As if everything was happening in slow motion, Amy watched the man’s finger begin to contract, but her flying leap captured his arm just in time to throw it up as the weapon discharged. In quick succession several more rounds went off, but Amy’s sprawling body had caught the man fully in the chest, and together the two of them sprawled into a heap on the floor along with drinks, linen and appetizers. The Doctor was still scrambling to bring his pistol up and find a human mark, but Amy was quicker at finding her weapon, pressed it against the man’s chest, and pulled the trigger. In a deafening explosion of sound, movement and blood, it was over.

“The Senator wants to personally thank you for saving his life,” the Detail Commander said as Amy sat in the private office of the Convention Center’s Manager. Sitting on a small couch, she held her head in her hands completely in shock, a bit of high impact blood splatter deeply ingrained in the gray wool of her blazer. She could only nod as she lifted her head out of her hands and took a deep breath as the Senator walked in.

“Thanks Isaac,” he said, “but would you Ankara Travesti mind if I spoke to this young lady in private for a moment.”

“Certainly Senator,” and as the Senator helped himself to a bottle of brandy, the Detail Commander walked out, shutting the door behind him as he did. Handing Amy a shot of brandy, he took a seat across from her and met her eyes.

“You’re a national hero now young lady, and our country is certainly thankful, but I suspect you really don’t care much about that at the moment. You were just doing your job right?”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s almost ironic though, I heard you were some pissed that you had to wear that outfit I choose for you, yet without it, you would never have known that man was carrying a pistol in his waistband.”

“We are trained to observe behaviors Senator, when he started for his gun…”

“Oh bullshit Amy, it was your shoes,” the Senator said interrupting her. “If you had not have been wearing that outfit and had your shoeless toes toying that man in his crotch you would have never had felt his gun.”

“Senator my full attention was on your protection I assure you.”

“Amy please, why else would your shoes have been off when you tackled that man, or you got the drop on him before he had time to aim at me? Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful, but I know what you were doing. But,” the Senator said as he got up off his chair, “your secret is safe with me too.”

“Thank you Senator.”

“Well I have also asked that you be left alone for a few hours as well. I know you are going through a lot right now and are probably in shock. I don’t think it’s appropriate for them to hound you again and again on how the turn of events came about. You need a little time to sort out your feeling and I think their questions can wait.”

“Thanks,” she managed to say, reaching down to pull her skirt down a bit as it had ridden up a bit as she sat upon the couch. She was not sure if the Senator was looking at her legs or not as he said all this, but it was instinctive to do so. “You seem to know how I feel.”

“Oh more then you know Amy, more then you know,” he grinned as he tossed back the last of his brandy shot and started pacing around the room. “When I was in Vietnam I had the honor of being a sniper, and on more then one occasion I have pulled the trigger of a gun and taken a man’s life. With it comes this mix of emotion; hatred for having placed you in that situation, but there is another side of that, something so deeply ingrained in the human physic and yet few people ever realize it, a sheer thrill for taking on the most cunning of predators…fellow mankind…and coming out on top. For you it must be really thrilling, being a woman and yet taking out the hunter of one of the most prominent Senators in the United States.”

“I really don’t know what I am feeling right now sir.”

“Oh I do. I know none of us are supposed to feel that way, almost smug about taking another human life, but it’s there within you, I know it is…this intense feeling of superiority. It’s welling so powerfully inside you that it’s making your skin crawl and you just want to scream, but you can’t because you can’t possibly find euphoria in doing something as wrong as killing a man. Oh yes Amy I know how you feel and I know just what you need to let that feeling go,” he said and he reached out to her and began to slide his hand along her thigh, inching his hand closer to the hemline of skirt, until in a blink of an eye it was past it. Amy jumped at the touch, but her secret was revealed when he touched her sex and found a wet spot on her panties; a wet spot that was familiar and growing. “You need release don’t you Amy?”

“Yes, Amy said quietly. “Yes, yes, yes…”

Amy had already tilted her head, wetted her lips and greeted her new lover by kissing him rather then waiting for the Senator to take the lead. He was just as eager to kiss her again, and took his time, tasting every inch of her mouth before pulling back slightly to tease her by stealing light, teasing kisses upon her lips, forcing her to move forward in order to get the deep kisses she now craved. When Amy got three of the deep kisses she hungered after, he traced his tongue along the line of her jaw, kissing and caressing her young, heart-shaped face with his mouth. His hands played across her back, massaging, lightly squeezing her, his hands drifting down to cup both of her tight ass cheeks, pulling her even closer.

For the moment, Amy enjoyed being just where she was; despite his age over hers, she could feel the contours of his heavily muscled body. It was a euphoria she had never felt before, a thrill of knowing he was one of the most powerful men on Capitol Hill and yet knowing he was as gentle as a lamb. But as Amy molded her body to his, she could feel more then just his muscles against her body; she could feel every curve, every bulge, and especially the one pressing into her pelvis. The Senator was obviously very hard and the stiffness was beyond belief.

“Turn around Amy,” he said İstanbul Travesti softly as he stole one more kiss. Amy reluctantly did as she was told, and turned to face the wall of the office as the Senator stepped directly behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders he began to slip the blazer off her shoulders. Tossing it unceremoniously to the office floor, he gripped her blouse in turn, and using his thick, but nimble fingers to thread the buttons through the tiny button holes, Amy focused on a single spot on the wall as she felt the constricting fabric of her blouse being removed. Amy’s focus did not even change when she felt her white bra being undone, his hands struggling with the clasp as most men did. But as he finally managed to get the fastener undone, Amy felt the cool air rush over her nipples as her bare chest was revealed for the prominent man.

Amy expected for her breast to be cupped, to be fondled from behind as he ran his hands over her fleshy globes and tweaked her nipples expertly. Instead he moved to the waistband of her gray woolen skirt and gently tugged it down until it was in a puddle at her feet. Only then did Amy step out of it, and as she did, the Senator began a tortuously slow exploration of her body with his hands and mouth. Kissing her shoulders, the back of her neck, then letting his fingertips glide down her back until it stopped at the curvature of her left ass cheek., Amy was just about to spread her legs so that he could plunge a finger within her sex, or perhaps if he preferred, into her anus, but instead he gave her bottom a little spank.

It was not too hard, but it still made Amy jump. As she did however, her sex, covered only by a thin layer of nylon, rubbed against the back of the couch, the slick leather cool to the touch. Amy swooned with enjoyment at the smooth contact and did not murmur a complaint. Sensing this, the Senator gave her opposing ass cheek another swat and watched as Amy twitched but did not verbally complain. He landed a few more, but when he stopped after only four or five, Amy knew he had no intentions of spanking her like a naughty school girl. Secretly she wished he would have, because with only a few more swats she was certain she would have gotten off.

Giving her bottom one last little pat, the Senator backed away from her a bit and told her quietly to bend over and put her hands on the back of the couch. Amy quickly obliged, more then ready to be taken. This was of no help to his composure because Amy was half his age, provocatively stooped over, with nothing covering her pear shaped cheeks but the thinness of her beige nylons.

This the Senator took care of quickly; being crafty he slipped a finger into the stretchy fabric and shoved a hole in her nylons, then pulled slightly so that there was a gaping hole in them strategically located in the crotch area of Amy’s nylons. At first Amy sucked in her breath at the sight of such a powerful and politically connected man hell bent on taking her. She knew the Senator had been infatuated with her, and having spent a small fortune on her nylons and heels, and she had no reservations about him cutting a slit in them so he could have sex with her dressed in that way.

After a slot had been cut, he placed his hands on her round hips and let them roam over her voluptuous bottom, pausing at her thighs, and continuing down the entire length of her legs. Amy secretly enjoyed the feeling of his hands gliding over the unique texture of her nylons, as well as enjoying the zipping sounds they made as he did so. When he reached her ankles, he returned to the top and repeated the exercise but this time moved his mouth slowly down her legs, making sure to kiss the sensitive places behind her knees for added effect.

Amy honestly felt as if she would collapse as she began to falter on her teetering high heels when the Senator spread her legs and placed his tongue on her inner thigh. Never in her life did she expect such an older man to be doing such a thing, and yet somehow he knew that was exactly what she needed. Now brushing his fingers over her, and touching her with his tongue, it caused her to shiver and certainly not from the buildings central air conditioning. Pushing her thighs further apart, he finally touched the tip of his tongue to her already swollen lips, tasting the wetness that manifested itself there. Her heels were really beginning to wobble as the Senator licked and sucked her inner lips, moving up the crease between her legs, lightly nibbling with his teeth, causing her to spread herself wider on the slippery leather couch for stability.

The Senator was determined to take his time, to bring her to the brink again and again, and then give her the most intense release possible. Amy truly deserved that for she had saved his life. For that dedication, he licked his way back to the entrance between her inner folds and slipped his tongue in once again as far as he could. The resilient secret service agent was as tender as she was delicious, and he was content to inhale her feminine sex for all that it had to offer. He was not even distracted when another loud cry escaped Amy’s lips and she pushed back against him. He held her firm and moved his mouth further towards her clit, using the tip of his tongue to lick all around without actually touching it.

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