Part 7
Unlike the American President, British Prime Ministers do not have their own aircraft. That is a bit of a pain for her security but somehow it all seems to work. The black Jaguar led a small convoy as it swept across the tarmac at London’s Heathrow Airport and stopped at the bottom of a flight of steps leading up to a British Airways 747.
Sylvia Tenant and her entourage, including me, got out of the cars (I was in the third of four) and went up the steps, she into first class with Tony Riley (my boss) the rest of us into business. The doors closed as soon as we were all aboard, the seat belt light was lit and we belted in and settled back for the flight to Washington. It wasn’t a state visit but it was important. Three days of meetings loomed in front of us. I had worn a long, dark blue skirt, white linen blouse and a cream jacket for the journey. I’d packed an evening dress for the formal dinner with the President on the second evening and enough decent clobber to ensure I didn’t let the side down when we got there.
A member of the cabin crew, tall, slim and with legs to die for offered me a glass of champagne which I took gratefully. She smiled at me as she placed it on my table and, was it my imagination, her hip rubbed against my shoulder as she leant over to place orange juice on my neighbour’s table. Wishful thinking. My girlfriend, lover, whatever, Libby Manning was not part of the group. She’d had to stay home and manage her Ministry getting a complex piece of law through the Commons. The night before she’d taken me out to dinner at one of London’s finest restaurants then taken me home and fucked me, hard; one of her ‘remember whose boss’ fucks that left my arse red from the hand slaps she’d given me as she entered me from behind.
“Libby’s bitch needs to remember her.” How was I likely to forget? I squirmed in my seat as I remembered.
My neighbour was a particularly colourless civil servant who did something amazingly tedious in the Foreign Office. I used my laptop most of the way, writing a speech for the boss to deliver at the formal dinner. I was trying to avoid the ‘We’re your best friends, special relationship, common ancestry’ bollocks that PMs usually spout on such occasions.
The same hostess served the meal and either I was imagining things or her tit really did brush my cheek.
I got out of my seat and went to look for the toilet. There she was, standing in the galley beside the toilet. She smiled. “Did you enjoy your meal?”
“I really did, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can get you, Miss Lovett?”
At my request she poured me another glass of champagne and I stood talking to her as I drank it. She told me that the crew usually stayed at an hotel near the airport and asked where I was staying. We’re not allowed to say so I said I had no idea.
“Well, if you can find the bar at the Constellation tonight or tomorrow night I’d love to buy you a drink.” Her right eyebrow lifted as she said this.
“I don’t think that will be possible but I’d have loved to.” I turned to return to my seat but stopped and looked into her eyes. “How did you know? I have absolutely no gaydar.”
“You’ve either got it or you haven’t.” I was about to go but she put her hand on my shoulder. “And you came here looking for the toilet but you haven’t used it.” She grinned and passed me a slip of paper. I knew without reading it that it was her phone number. When I got back to my seat I looked at it. Tina was her name and there was her number. Nice.
We landed at Dulles and waited until all the other passengers had disembarked via the skybridge then made our way down the steps to the tarmac where limousines were waiting. The tyres screeched as the cars moved away at some speed. Blue lights and two tones heralded our presence everywhere which struck me as a bit like advertising the target but I said nothing.
The woman assigned to act as my liaison was called Terri. She met me in the hotel lobby and we went up to my room, with her assurance that my case would arrive soon. She was wearing a black trouser suit with black heels and a white shirt and carried a large, flat handbag. She had a rather sullen demeanour as if she didn’t really want to be there. We went through the schedule for the visit which was detailed on sheets she took from her bag.
“I have to stay with you, I am part liaison and part security.” I’d been wondering about the hard thing on her hip that had nudged me a couple of times in the lift. “You can do anything you want but I have to escort you. I hope that’s not a problem?”
I thought to myself it was just as well I hadn’t arranged to meet Tina. I’d have had to tell Libby, of course. One of her rules was that I can fuck anyone I want but I have to tell her. But then, I have to tell her if I wanted to fuck someone but didn’t so what the hell.
“No, it’s not a problem. I have to work this evening so you can leave me alone in my room. I’ll probably want to get a drink at some point.”
“Room service?”
“I’d prefer to go to the bar. I’ll get stir crazy in here.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be outside, just tell me when you want to go.”
“Terri, you don’t have to stand outside. You can stay here and watch tv while I work.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Her smile transformed her face and she looked utterly lovely. The suite had a bedroom and sitting room as well as bathroom and walk in wardrobe. It may have been boringly corporate but it was perfect. I worked in the bedroom while Terri watched news on the tv. Around 10, I asked if we could get that drink.
The bar was typical. Men in suits chewing the fat over large whiskies. A few couples and one woman, I noticed, had the roving eye of the escort. As she talked to the guy next to her at the bar she was checking out the other patrons in case there was one more likely to pay. Her eyes settled on mine and she smiled. I ordered gin and tonic for myself and a coke for Terri and we retreated to a small corner table.
“Why are you armed?”
“Oh, that’s routine, Sam. There have been some reports of threats as you know but this place is pretty well locked down. Nobody gets in without a thorough check. You can relax.”
Actually I was relaxed. She proved to be a good companion. She was funnier than I had expected.
“Work like this must play havoc with your home life?”
“Yep, it does. Partners get pretty sick of it. You married?”
“No. I have a girlfriend and she’s a busy woman in a similar line of work to mine so she understands.” Her eyes told me that she was surprised I was open about being gay. “I think it’s easier being gay in the UK than here. Nobody seems to care much anymore.”
“It’s ok in places like Washington and New York mostly. Some of the stygian regions are a bit less accepting.”
“You too?” I asked.
Nodding, she smiled. “It’s not something I shout about.”
It was around 11.30 when we went back up to my suite. I was mellow with the gin and invited her in for a coffee but she refused politely and said she’d be back in the morning. Another detail covered the sleeping times. I was, I confess, a little disappointed. Was I now going to have to tell Libby there were two women I’d wanted to fuck but hadn’t. I showered and slipped into a pair of PJs and got into bed. When I fingered myself it was Libby’s fingers inside me. Somehow I felt good about that.
---
Day two and as I threw back the curtains at 6 it was till dark outside so I shut them again. I had another shower and there was Libby, a soapy finger pressed to my arse as we washed each other. I know, I know. My libido is out of hand but Libby does that to me. Naked but for a towel I sat at the table in the sitting room and watched local news and ate cereal with coffee. Yanks do great coffee.
Terri arrived at 7.30 in what I now assumed was her uniform and she escorted me to the PM’s suite, far grander than mine, where Tenant and Riley were drinking coffee and deep in discussion.
“Good morning, Sam. Help yourself to coffee.”
“Thank you, Prime Minister.”
I waited while they finished discussing the day’s meetings with the President and senior officials then Riley left to get things started. The room was huge, equipped like an office rather than a hotel suite’s sitting room. As her Deputy Chief of Staff I’d normally have been busier but it sometimes worked out that I had little to do and so it was that day. That didn’t mean nothing to do. We went through her speech for that evening, about which she was complimentary and she briefed me for a press conference that I had to do at about midday.
I went back to my suite and with Terry in the sitting room, I changed into my clothes for the press. I knew Libby would see it so I wanted to send her a little message. She’d bought a pair of nipple clamps which were joined by an unusual gold chain. The links were heart shaped. Before I dressed I removed the clamps, leaving them on the shelf in the bathroom, and wrapped the chain twice around my neck. It made a fabulous necklace. I selected a white silk blouse that would allow the necklace to be visible and, unusually for me, put on a soft silk bra not wanting the American press to see my nipples. I had matching panties and suspender belt and then rolled on some barely black stockings. The skirt was red and knee length. I checked myself in the mirror then put my shoes on and went through to the sitting room. Terri stood up as I entered.
“Wow, Sam, you look fabulous.”
“Thanks, Terri. Right, let’s get going.”
Press conferences are a pain. The press don’t really want to be briefed, they want to needle, to get you to be indiscreet. Well, they were going to get briefed at this one whether they wanted it or not. And briefed they were, to within an inch of their capacity to stay awake.
“I can take a few questions.”
I pointed at a man in the third row. I always go for the third row because it annoys those in the first and second.
“Guy Melrose, London Times. Why is Miss Manning not with this delegation.”
That was not of course the real question. He was going to go on about our relationship. “Ask her.”
A New York Times reporter. “Is the Prime Minister aware that the President recently said she was wasting money on trying to help in the creation of new antibiotics and that it was best left to private industry?”
“He didn’t actually say that. He said, if you read his remarks carefully,” a little acid is good for them, “that her ‘Britain for the 22nd Century’ was a bold but expensive initiative, which it is. He did not say it was wasting money. I think from memory he said that he could not afford to assist research as much as she was. He did say that paying tuition fees for selected subjects might lead to a reluctance in students to study unsubsidised courses and that might lead to waste and lost opportunities for some students. We’re monitoring that.”
A lady from Fox. “What will the Prime Minister be wearing to the dinner tonight?”
“I have no idea but I suspect she’ll look fabulous.”
And on and on until I called it to a close. I was relieved, no gaffes.
Terri walked with me back to my suite. She came in with me and she made coffee while I secured my papers. She asked if she could use the ‘bathroom’ – an example of American English usage – which of course she could.
A text arrived on my phone. It was from Libby. “Nice necklace! Love you too xxxx.”
I was leaning over a table, sorting some papers and suddenly felt a hand on my back. Terri’s other hand appeared in my line of sight, dangling the clamps I’d left in the bathroom.
“Forget something?”
How embarrassing. “Just my partner’s little fun.” I tried to sound unperturbed.
“She sounds like my kind of girl. Why did you bring them with you?” I wanted to stand up but her hand pressed me gently to remain where I was. She placed the clamps on the table and then cupped my right breast. “Seems a shame to bring them and not use them.”
“She likes me to – I wore their chain as a necklace so she could see it if she watched the press briefing.”
“You two exclusive?”
“When we’re together.”
“But she doesn’t mind if you have fun while you’re separated?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
The hand on my breast squeezed gently and then left it and I felt it slip up under my skirt. The weight of her leaning over me increased and her mouth was beside my ear.
“I could get into trouble unless you’re discreet.”
“The only person I’ll tell is Libby.”
The hand that had been holding me down slipped around to my left breast, the other went further up my skirt and covered my crotch.
Abruptly, she pulled me up, turned me round and I was intently aware of her strength. She kissed me, hard. Her tongue entered my mouth like it was taking possession. One hand went back up my skirt, the other covered my breast and the kiss intensified. She bit my lip.
Stepping back, Terri looked me directly in the eyes and began undoing her jacket. She discarded it over the chair, then took the clip-on holster from her waist band. Her eyes never left mine as she stripped, revealing a white sport bra under her shirt, her flat belly, her strong arms. Her pants went down and there were those fantastic legs, white boy shorts covering, briefly, what proved to be a neatly trimmed pussy.
“Now you.”
When I had got to the point where all I had left on was my suspender belt, she took my hand and led me to the bed. She was gentle now, sitting on the bed and pulling me to her, having me sit, my legs either side of her hips, her mouth now on my tits, now on my mouth. She moved me as if I had no weight at all and I found myself lying on the bed with her over me, holding herself up on her hands, her mound against mine. We were both wet and she began to rub against me. It would have been impossible not to react similarly. Her hips moved slowly, deliberately and gradually as she saw the rising arousal in my eyes. That same arousal was in hers and her lovely smile turned first to a far away absence, then to a rictus as she orgasmed. Her climax was wet and somehow that precipitated my own. Her body flat on top of me, I lay there, shattered, exhausted and utterly satisfied.
Terri dressed hastily. I watched through the bedroom door as she slipped into her clothes. Turning to face me, she smiled. “You’d better get ready, I’ll be fired if you’re late for the dinner.”
---
Hot water streamed down my body as I showered. I stepped out of the shower to find her holding a towel for me. It’s fluffiness enfolded me and once again I felt the strength of her arms.
I dried my hair and dressed. She watched every move I made.
“Love that dress.” So did I. It was long, a deep red, with a tight bodice and slightly full skirt. The back below my shoulder blades, the front decently low cut. Nothing was going to escape but then, my tits being what they were, it would hardly matter if they did.
“Will you be at the dinner?”
“No, but I will be waiting to bring you back.”
“Not the night shift?”
“Tonight I said I’d cover because you have to get to the airport early.”
Security was tight and getting into the dinner took a while. I was seated at a table with my boss, Tony Riley and a few members of the American team. The band struck up and the President, Carlton Tombs led the way with Sylvia Tenant down a grand flight of stairs, the First Lady, Cheri Tombs and Mr Tenant following up. I’d been right. Tenant looked fabulous. She chosen to wear a lesser known British dress designer’s work and that would be a huge boost for the lucky woman.
After dinner the speeches. Here’s a bit of Tenant’s.
“People talk about our historical relationship. I am not going to. I have decided that my period in office should be about the future. The future is, to some extent unknown but what we can predict is that depending on the goodwill and affection of our strongest ally is no longer enough. Whatever other NATO countries might do we have increased our defence spending to over 3% of GDP and it continues to rise.
“We have not merely spent, we have spent in a way that is complementary to our American ally so that we can truly say that we are not asking you to defend us but that we are contributing to our mutual defence.
“This co-operation means that we have a national defence capacity that is closely aligned to yours but independent of it when our interests require.
“We have sponsored a great deal of research into pharmaceuticals and much of that research is being done here in your finest Universities. The sponsorship does not come free. We expect the pharmaceutical industry to remember who paid for the development of new drugs and sell them to our health services at affordable rates.”
It ended, “We are in interesting times. Many politicians feel able to criticise other countries for their isolationism or their aggression. We do not. We recognise the amazing generosity of the American people and, perhaps after too long, we are determined not merely to play our part but to play more than our fair share as you have for so many years.
“We hope, as our talks to day have clearly shown, that our co-operation, our common goals and our mutual affection will demonstrate to all Americans that we are not mere friends, not just allies but a powerful partner.”
It went down well and Riley patted my shoulder as the applause rang out, even some cheers. The President’s speech was in similar vein and the two of them glowed in the aftermath.
Admiral Caroline Booth was seated at a table nearby. As I walked past she stopped me and introduced me to an American Admiral, also a woman, who was also the first to achieve that rank in the US Navy. Cheryl Coyle was a handsome woman, no other adjective would cover it. She was very tall, hard looking with a grimly determined look about her. I exchanged a few words with her then, as I was leaving, Booth stood up and looked for all the world as if she was going to kiss me. She didn’t. She whispered in my ear, “I hope you get fucked over, you bitch.” Old world charm is so rare these days.
Riley was suddenly at my side. “Come with me, the boss wants a word.”
Somewhat to my surprise Tenant was standing with the President. She introduced me and I didn’t know whether to curtsey or bow or what so I took his proffered hand and shook it.
“The Prime Minister says you wrote her speech. My congratulations. If ever you feel like a spell here in DC I am sure we could find a place for you.”
“You’re very kind, Sir but I must say the words were all the Prime Ministers. All I did was order them for her.”
“Old British joke I heard once when a guy was playing piano badly and the conductor said ‘You’re playing all the wrong notes.’ The pianist replied, ‘I’m playing all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order.’ Always made me laugh. Whatever, you did a great job and we thank you.”
I was, naturally, delighted.
Later, the party over, Terri was waiting with the fleet of cars to ferry us back to the hotel. Arriving at my room she came in, shut the door and locked it. Before I could move she pinned me to the wall and reached down to unzip her pants. A purple dildo poked out. She was grinning as she lifted my dress and cupped my cunt.
“Hey, where are those beautiful panties?”
“In my handbag.”
With a growl she slipped a finger into me and, finding me wet and ready, she adjusted her position so she could get the dildo into me. I lifted one leg around her and groaned with pleasure as she entered me. She fucked me like that, kissing my mouth and baring my breasts. She withdrew and almost dragged me to the bedroom where she pushed me onto the bed on all fours. She flipped my dress up and entered me again, firmly, driving into me, her body bent over mine.
I heard her cumming. It was like a wind building behind me and it broke over me and somehow took me with her. I don’t remember mush else until I recovered enough to realise she was lying beside me, panting and flushed.
What, I thought, an amazing two days. Rather a lot to tell Libby too. At the thought of her I sighed happily, got out of bed and my dress and stockings and crawled into bed beside a now snoring Terri.
