What Goes Up…

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“No,” he shouted angrily into the mouthpiece, “you’ll have it Friday when I’m done,” and slammed the red phone back onto its plastic cradle. He snorted contemptuously, then raised his eyes towards the insistent rapping on his office door.

“Yes,” he shouted.

The door was opened by a young man of medium build, well dressed and distinctly scrubbed. He was twenty-five, with slicked-back, dark brown wavy hair.

‘Harvard or Yale?’ wondered the elder man, sitting at his desk.

“Well?” asked Senator Robert Edwards, in his gruff, early-morning, clipped tone.

“Senator Edwards?” an unruffled voice inquired.

“That’s what it says on the door young man.”

“Good morning, Senator, I’m John Phillips, your Personal Assistant.”

“Of course you are,” replied the Senator, smiling broadly, remembering the interview they had shared some four weeks ago. Walking around his desk he grasped the hand of his new P.A. His reply had disconcerted the Yale man, who realized that the Senator had forgotten who he was but had made no attempt to apologize.

The Senator’s years in office had schooled his thoughts and words providing a verbal vehicle that promoted himself in any conversation. This form of expression, more commonly known as ‘one-upmanship,’ was usually regarded as everyday dialogue by most politicians on ‘The Hill.’

Born in Columbus, Ohio Robert Edwards had wealthy and prosperous parents. From a young age he learned quickly that the pen was indeed, mightier than the sword. First, by writing articles for the local paper, then after graduating from Harvard by writing political speeches for the Governor of the day. At twenty-eight he ran for election using his own political slogan and achieved his goal as the youngest Senator for the state of Ohio.

Two years later he married the state’s most eligible, wealthy woman, Harriet Chiddingstone, a family lawyer with her father’s law firm of Chiddingstone, Harley Associates.

Harriet’s father had once described his only child as, ‘an angel sent to defend the devils of this world.’

He had seen her blossom from a lanky, though attractive, blonde girl in her formative years, to a woman well endowed both physically and mentally. At six foot tall and with an I.Q. of 148 she commanded respect. Some men tended to back off when she wore high heels and had her long hair coiffed on top of her head. She looked beautifully aloof, even distant to them.

Few men realized that all she wanted was a little love and attention and provided they were not unattractive they all could have shared something wonderful.

On the other hand, women saw what they wanted to see, a graceful, Scandinavian, blond bimbo. Typical fodder for Hugh Hefner’s stable. However, once in conversation with her they found that she conversed exceptionally well on most topics and in an empathic way. Perhaps subconsciously this was her safeguard against alienating them. All the same it had a warming effect on her audience which, through college and into law practice, enabled her to be extremely popular among all her work colleagues.

Robert inherited a gene from his father’s side of the family. This gene determined by the age of twenty-seven that he became completely bald but far from being a disadvantage in his career and love life his baldness proved a positive advantage. To his electorate it made him look older and wiser. To women who were attracted to young, socially powerful men his baldness seemed to say, ‘Hey, it may have gone from up there but it’s up to you to find out if the cupboard is totally bare.’

Robert was socially introduced to Harriet at a tennis club function. Their exchange of glances and warm embrace sent a pleasurable tingle to her clitoris. The effect amazed and startled her.

They sat out most of the dances, just talking and listening. Passers-by commented that it must be love for they seemed never to take their eyes off each other.

They made a stunning couple on the tennis court and in their social circle they became known as ‘Bonnie and Clyde.’

Robert ‘Clyde’ Edwards, due to his elegant clothes style and hard-nosed politics.

‘Where did he get the money to pay for that suit?’

‘Oh, he robs banks.’

Harriet ‘Bonnie’ Chiddingstone.

She suddenly enthused over everything anyone did or said. She became, as one young man with Scottish ancestry mused, ‘A bonnie lass, a bonnie lass in love.’

The grand wedding was inevitable. Five hundred and sixty guests saw them off on a honeymoon that encompassed two weeks in Hawaii and two weeks in as many European countries that they could tour.

For the first two years they had an exciting, sexual marriage that each partner enjoyed but as time went on parents and friends noticed a change in their attitude, a change that became a rift, then a great divide.

They wanted children.

They had discussed the topic at great length even before the wedding. They tried desperately to create life, perhaps too hard.

It hurt Robert more so than Harriet. He had it all. Money. Position. Power – an attractive wife – but he didn’t Eryaman Escort have a son.

It irked him, like an itching knife wound as it heals.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. In his mind it became an unsociable feeling. A feeling that during the past eight years he had achieved everything he had set out to do but could not produce, mold and characterize his likeness forward – into another generation.

He strongly believed that his accumulated knowledge of life over the past thirty-eight years, should be passed on to a younger mind to enable that mind to have a head start in life.

Medically, Harriet could have children and Robert was quite capable of producing offspring even with his lower than average sperm count.

Every conceivable sexual position, described in the Karma Sutra, had been used. They had enlisted the aid of marriage guidance counseling and coincided their love-making to Harriet’s biorhythms but still nothing happened.

A hollowness impinged itself on their lives. It resulted in a stagnant marriage that ultimately foundered – then died.

Each partner, though still living together in the same house, had inevitably found solace with another.

Now here, in his Washington office and shaking his hand, was the epitome of what Senator Edwards carefully considered to be the, ‘Clay for his mold.’ If he could not produce children maybe he could mold this young man into someone who he felt would achieve greatness. With just a little guidance.

“John, it’s good to see you. My secretary phoned in sick so we have a great deal of work to get through today. Though tonight we’ll kick over the traces and have some entertainment,” he said moving a straight backed, wooden chair, beside the burnished, mahogany desk.

“Coffee?” he asked, moving quickly to the percolator, perched boldly atop one of three metal filing cabinets.

“Yes… Please, Senator. Black. No sugar sir.”

“Same here, my boy,” intoned Robert, ensuring that John’s memory noted the point he was making.

Robert brought the bone china tea cups of steaming coffee over to the desk and set them down.

“Over the next few hours I’ll bring you up to speed,” said Robert, easing himself into his comfortable chair, “both on what I expect of you and what you can expect of me. I know you’re good with figures so I want your input on the budget proposal for the upcoming Finance Committee. Can you provide the Committee and me with some new ideas?”

“Senator… I’m your man.”

“Good, then lets go for it.”

They worked diligently till two in the afternoon when John ordered out for some sandwiches. The sun arced through the one large window and lazily settled down on the horizon. The day turned to dusk and they finally completed the draft proposal by seven that evening.

Both men stretched tired arm, leg and neck muscles. The Senator argued a strong case for neither man returning home that evening.

John was single and currently had no steady girlfriend while Robert knew Harriet would neither care nor worry if he didn’t come home. And besides Robert wanted to get to know John. Not in the physical sense but mentally. He wanted to start on his ‘rebuilding project’ as soon as possible.

From his office phone, the Senator booked two rooms at a local hotel. They went there first to wash and freshen up with John needing little persuasion to go on later with Robert to a neighboring, upmarket, singles bar.


While Robert and John were manipulating figures, Robert’s wife, Harriet, had taken the day off from work and around mid-morning, when the phone rang, she received an unexpected emotional uplift.

“You have reached the home of Senator Edwards, Mrs Edwards speaking,” she said, with the self assurance that wealth instills.

“Hi, lover!” The husky voice imparted a sexiness that instantly fueled Harriet’s emotions. Her heart skipped a beat. Her voice inched up an octave as she asked, “Sonia, Sonia darling, is that really you?”

Harriet rolled over onto her stomach. The tiger skin rug softly crushed beneath her as she lay by the unlit fireplace in the lounge. Her head rested on one upturned arm. She still wore her white silk teddy that clung sensuously to the clean, peach skin of her freshly showered body.

An anxious Sonia asked, “I’ve missed you, Harriet.”

“I’ve missed you too Sonia, so very much. How is your Aunt?”

“She’s recovered from her illness and is fine now.”

“Can we meet this evening?”

“Yes, I’d love that very much.”

“I can arrange a room in town say for around eight this evening?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Can I phone you later with the details. Are you still on the same number? I can’t wait to be with you. Can we be together all night?”

“Same number, my love and yes, we can be together all night long.”

“God, I’ve missed your touch, your scent, your voice… You… I can’t wait… All night with you. See you soon, then… Bye Sonia, bye.” She blew a kiss down the phone and hung up.

They’d met at Sincan Escort one of Harriet’s interminable round of benefit functions that she attended. Half way through the proceedings she had gone to freshen up and almost bumped into a stunning woman with vibrant red hair exiting the bathroom.

After a polite exchange of apologies, the ‘vision in red’ continued on her way. Harriet watched her departing figure. She was surprised by her own delight as ‘the redhead’ stopped, turned and came back to her.

“I’m fond of coffee at Eleznick’s around four,” she purred huskily, then abruptly turned on her high heels. Her hair swayed to her flouncing walk, her full hips sheathed tightly within a black, knee length skirt. The black highlighted both the paleness of her skin and her hair color.

She sashayed away towards the melee.

Harriet quickly freshened up and sought out the mysterious woman who had struck such a sensual chord but she could find no trace of her.

The sight, scent and sound of the woman remained with Harriet for the rest of the day. The ‘red-head’ had both disturbed and excited her.

As an adult, Harriet had never experienced an intimate bond or sexual relationship between herself and another woman. High school and university had thrown up a few occasions when a crush towards another female had surfaced and led to a certain amount of touching and embracing but nothing further had developed.


At three-forty-five the following afternoon, it had taken all of Harriet’s emotional courage to enter Eleznick’s and sit at a table facing the front door.

She had not wanted to be late.

By four-thirty, after three cups of cold coffee, she was preparing to leave when ‘the redhead’ stepped through the opened glass door. She wore dark glasses. The figure hugging, black, Versace dress enveloped every curve above her mid-thigh. Flesh colored silk stockings encased her long sinuous legs down to her black patent shoes. Harriet’s own dark glasses shielded her from the gaze of others but afforded little protection from this woman’s imperious stare.

She ‘drifted’ over to Harriet’s table and sat down beside her. As the waiter approached she shooed him away with a wave from one carefully manicured hand that exhibited long, red, perfectly lacquered fingernails.

Harriet inhaled deeply through her nose. The intoxicating perfume flooded her nostrils and spread like a narcotic through her veins. She unconsciously closed her eyes as a warmth crept along her own nylon clad thigh. She shuddered, deliciously, as the woman’s hand found her bare flesh between the top of her black, sheer stockings and her delicate, lace frilled, wispy silk panties.

A husky voice intruded on her wanton thoughts, “Shall we go on to your place or find somewhere here in town that’s more discreet, Harriet?” She said removing her glasses and gazing deeply into Harriet’s eyes.

Harriet’s eyes opened. “I… I… had hoped we might get to know one another a little better before… Well… I’m not sure what you… You know my name?”

The caressing warmth on her sensitive inner thigh dissipated as the woman removed her hand. Harriet felt a loss; a sense of disappointment.

“I made a point of inquiring whom I would meet here today.”

“May I know your name?”

“You may call me Sonia.”

“Is that your real name?”

“It’s a name I reserve for my… special friends and I believe we can become very close friends Harriet, if you wish it. Do you want it Harriet?”

The double meaning to her words did not go unnoticed. Gazing deeply into Sonia’s brown eyes with their long, dark up swept eyelashes she slowly fell under their spell. She was becoming mesmerized by her flaming hair, seduced by her rich, full lips. Ensnared by the sharp nose and flared nostrils, lost in a void of lust for a woman whose demeanor had suddenly captured her thoughts.

“I’m sorry… What did you ask?” said Harriet, shaking her head and rapidly blinking her eyes.

A hand reached out across the table and descended over Harriet’s own. Its feather light touch caressed her skin.

“Did I wrongly conclude from our first meeting something that you now wish to reject?”

“No… I feel… felt… something…”

“Do you want me, Harriet? Do you feel that we can become close friends. Intimate friends. Perhaps even passionate friends?”

Distantly Harriet heard herself say, “Yes, I want you, Sonia. I want to be close to you. Closer than I have been with any other person. I want you.”

She was aware that she spoke the truth; had known it since their first meeting.

As she spoke her own hand closed over Sonia’s, capturing and embracing the warmth that flowed from the depths of the beautiful apparition that beguiled her thoughts and senses.

They left the coffee shop arm in arm, hailed a cab and before Harriet had composed herself in her seat, Sonia leaned across and kissed her with a passion that made her swoon. She had no time to think what this meant with either sense or sensibility. She Etlik Escort returned the warmth of her companion’s kiss with equal ardor.

All too quickly they were at a hotel, not one of Harriet’s choosing but one with a respectable facade that would serve their purpose – for a price.

The elevator ride proved awkward for both women as each partner lustfully surveyed the other bound within a profound silence.

They walked briskly hand in hand down the empty, silent corridor to their room, unlocked the door, entered and gently closed it behind them.

Sonia quickly went to the window curtains and drew them. She rounded on Harriet and in the darkness their lips touched, hands found buttons and clasps. As their passion mounted the rustle of clothing drowned their labored breathing.

Naked, they fell panting onto the double bed.

Wandering hands explored warm areas of silky smooth flesh; wet tongues licked aroused and thickened nipples, while emotions soared from gentle caresses.

Sonia sat up, twisted round and by lifting one svelte, tanned leg over Harriet’s prone body she lowered her moist opening to Harriet’s waiting tongue whilst gently licking and probing Harriet’s own swollen vulva.

Harriet was swept along by a feverish, sexual excitement. Her charged body suffused with an electric desire for this woman who touched and thrilled her body with her tongue’s darting movements. Time stood still as the fluttering within her belly ebbed and flowed, her inner thighs trembled, her thoughts finely attuned to the knowledge of her approaching orgasm.

She was dumbfounded by the speed at which the burning in her belly ignited in a fire that pulsed upward and flamed onto her chest.

Harriet bucked upward as she came with a force that left her gasping, her spasms slowly subsiding into affectionate memory.

Sonia twisted round and fell beside her. They embraced affectionately. Gentle kisses followed fingertip caresses. Love’s afterglow began slowly dissipating.

“I’ve been extremely selfish Sonia. Can you forgive me?”

“Lover, I could tell that this was your first time with another woman. I know what you are feeling and knowing those feelings means that you must experience other delights to know the true meaning of a woman’s love. Don’t ask for my forgiveness when there is nothing to forgive.”

“Would you teach me Sonia. Show me how to make love to another woman.”

Sonia thought for a few moments then rose up and walked over to the bathroom doorway. She flicked on the interior light, then moved over to their discarded clothes. Bending down with her back to Harriet she picked up the two discarded black silk stockings.

“Do you trust me?” She asked Harriet, walking provocatively back toward the bed, the glow from the bathroom clearly showing the black stockings moving through her hands.

“Yes,” breathed Harriet, her torso squirming as she raised her arms up to the edges of the headboard.

Sonia slipped onto the bed, clambered over Harriet’s supine body and, reaching across the naked woman, she tied one hand to the strut of the wooden headboard. Her full breast swung across Harriet’s face and her rigid nipple was eagerly engulfed by a warm wet mouth whose teeth bit tenderly into her protruding flesh.

“Ow!” Squealed Sonia, smiling delightedly but twisted her breast away from Harriet’s grasping mouth. “Not now Harriet. Time for that soon.”

After both hands were firmly bound to the headboard Sonia left her partner and went into the bathroom. Moments later she returned with a tray on which stood a glass of hot water, soap, flannel, two towels and a razor.

“What are you… No. Please Sonia no,” pleaded Harriet, as Sonia settled the tray next to the anxious woman’s naked body.

“If you move I will cut you, Harriet, so please don’t be afraid, I’ve done this before without complaint.”

Sonia knelt beside the bed and picked a towel, rolling it into a long length of material. She lifted Harriet’s head and used it as a makeshift blindfold.

Sonia stretched Harriet’s legs apart and between them she worked her meticulous magic. Occasional strangled moans emanated from Harriet’s dry lips. Her legs stayed apart, the muscles flexing and relaxing as Sonia’s fingers moved the folds of her skin to accommodate the razor’s edge.

“There, all done,” Sonia proudly announced, slowly pouring the soapy water into the other folded, white towel.

“Now I have a gift from you that no one else has ever received,” she said softly. She plucked out the tiny damp wisps of blond hair and placed them in a small tissue that eventually found its way into her clutch handbag.

“One day I’ll let you do the same to me but only when I truly believe that you love me. Do you understand.”

“Yes,” gasped a tenderly aroused Harriet.

Sonia removed everything from the bed and eyed her evening’s work. Bending between Harriet’s outstretched, long, peach tanned legs, she blew a stream of cooling air onto the shaven mons. Harriet groaned.

Sonia dipped her head down and smelt the aroma of hotel soap mingle with Harriet’s musky sex. She kissed and sucked Harriet’s clitoris, licked her sensitive slit from top to bottom while using the tip of her petulant nose to rhythmically caress her engorged clitoris. Sonia lost herself in a world of lust. Her senses inhaled Harriet’s sweet muskiness and she tasted the delicious nectar of her labor.

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