Stories From The 6 Train 2(162)
My mother’s on the stage, shaking a few hands from the veterans that have come up on the stage, and then she leans toward one of her assistants and whispers something. Except her whisper isn’t really a whisper; the microphone in front of her picks up what she’s saying and the words echo throughout the room.
“How long is this going to take?” she asks the assistant, smiling to the veteran that’s shaking her hand. “I’m tired of these idiots. I can’t stand all this Army stupidity,” she continues, and then she snaps her head toward the microphone in front of her, realizing that it has amplified each and every one of her words. A loud and confused boo takes over the crowd, and then the image pans back to the newscaster.
“Well, I guess we can put down Governor Meelios on the list of people having a worse day than us, right, Michelle?” he asks his co-presenter with an amused smile. “And now, let’s cut to the Puppy Fair taking place at the --” I turn the TV to mute and let the remote slip from my fingers and fall on the desk.
“Oh my God…” I whisper, turning toward Parker. “Did you hear what I just heard?”
“I did… And so did everyone else,” Parker chuckles, pointing with his head at the door to his office. His staff’s whistling and clapping, almost as if they’re celebrating a home run from their favorite baseball team. Which, really, is pretty much what this feels like.
My mother really fucked up this time. A faux pas like this won’t be easily resolved, and it’ll probably be enough to sink her bid to the Senate. Of all people, she had to go and pick on the veterans. I can probably imagine her in her hotel room right now, tearing her hair out as she replays the images I’ve just seen over and over again. I figure the guy in charge of the microphones is going to be on the hunt for a new job soon enough.
“I hope this does it for her,” I tell Parker, taking a deep breath and feeling as if someone has taken a heavy weight off my chest. If her faux pas ruins her bid, she’ll have to drop out, which means she won’t need to come after Parker and I anymore.
“Well, we should probably keep our guard up all the same,” Parker replies with an easy smile, and I can tell that some of the stress caused by this election has been lifted off of his shoulders.
“I guess the road toward the Senate is going to be an easy one now,” I say, getting up from my seat and closing the distance between Parker and I. I grab the hemline of my dress and, hiking it up just a few inches, I climb on top of him, straddling him. “Senator Trask… I like the sound of it.”
“You do, huh?” he whispers, his hands trailing down the side of my body and going over the curve of my ass.
“I do…” I purr. “I can be your intern, Senator. And this particular intern would love to do her country a service and fuck her Senator,” I continue, biting down on my lower lip teasingly.
“I don’t think a Senator’s supposed to fuck his interns, Amy. Although I could make an exception for you,” he says, squeezing my ass cheeks.
“It’s not like you have any choice, Senator Daddy,” I continue, placing one hand on his chest and letting my fingers trail down to his crotch. I grab his cock over his dress pants and, squeezing it, I lean in and nibble at Parker’s lower lip. “Let’s do something different tonight. Let’s celebrate.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Have you ever heard of Python?” I ask him, a wicked grin on my lips. I haven’t been to Python, a club where women’s dreams come true, in ages… And it seems like the perfect place for a celebration. Although it’s not like we can go there without drawing unwanted attention.
“Heard of it? I used to work there, Amy,” Parker replies, sliding one hand up my leg and under the hemline of my tight-fitting dress. “Back in the day with my buddy Aidan Stone.”
“Worked there…?” I ask him with one arched eyebrow, holding my breath as I feel him flattening the palm of his hand over my thong.
“Yes, I used to moonlight there when Python was still in Queens.” He presses his hand hard against my pussy, and I let out a soft quivering moan.
“Are you going to take me there?” I grin again, fully knowing that this is nothing more than a fantasy. It’s not like we can simply stroll inside Python’s in the middle of a Senate race. The media would crucify us, and that’d give my mother another shot at winning. Still, it’s fun to fantasize.
“You know we can’t,” he whispers, looking straight into my eyes. “Which is a fucking shame.”