Chapter 3

It was all set; an unspoken agreement had been reached between she and Roland. "I need a leave of absence; I don't know, a month maybe. I'll still be in the city, though, and I'd like to be able to come in and use my desk whenever I need to."

He looked at her queerly, but agreed. She was fairly sure he knew what she was up to, but not positive. It was probably better that way. If anybody ever asked him about her activities, he could respond in all honesty that he knew nothing.

Now she sat in a coffee shop in downtown D.C, a few remnants of her diet plate breakfast in front of her, a half-sipped cup of coffee cradled in her hands. A notepad was beside her dish, with a few notes scribbled on it, a few incoherent leads. Not much. But, she told herself, it will have to do.

She tried to decide where to start. Rutledge's secretary? Whitlock? She opted for Whitlock. On a separate page she jotted his name, then went back to her office. Nobody asked about her presence there during a leave of absence.

In a confidential phone book she found Whitlock's home number, and dialed it. His wife, a popular D.C. hostess, answered. "No, Miss Rogers, I'm afraid Congressman Whitlock is out of town, back in his state. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Daphne was about to hang up when it occurred to her any information Mrs. Whitlock had was better than none. "I'd like to talk to you, if I could. It's a matter of great urgency."

They set up a time, and Daphne whiled away the hours until she took a cab out to Whitlock's modest digs in Maryland. Mrs. Whitlock answered the door.

Daphne was stunned. She had seen Carolyn Whitlock on television, and a few times at a distance, but never close up. At thirty years of age, she was a bronze goddess, the perfect woman. Her face was slender, accented with full lips and huge brown eyes. Her neck sloped gracefully down to her torso, where milky white breasts strained against her chic terry cloth housedress. The terry cloth hugged her firmly, all the way down to her feet, revealing slender hips and sculptured legs. Funny, Daphne thought, how you're always finding it hard to talk to women more beautiful than yourself. Is it female competitiveness, or buried homosexuality?

It didn't matter; she had more important things to discuss.

Inside, Daphne turned down a drink, but Carolyn Whitlock took one-a large one-for herself. She lit a cigarette. "Now what is this about my husband that's so important?" she said when she was finally settled.

Daphne flipped open her notepad and, without hesitation, relayed all the information she had. "This must remain strictly between you and I, Mrs. Whitlock," she said. "I'm not acting in any sort of official capacity, you understand."

Carolyn Whitlock closed her eyes, and Daphne thought she looked as graceful as she must in sleep. She tilted her head back in thought, and Daphne watched a hidden vein pulse in her creamy smooth throat. She twitched a little in her seat.

"I'm afraid I really can't tell you anything," Carolyn finally said, snapping out of her reverie. "Of course, I knew about my husband's financial arrangements, and he had told me of the extortion threat. Who would do such a thing?"

"He never talked of his private affairs with anybody but you?"

"Me and your boss, Senator Roland. Oh, there was a time when he. . . " She stopped, and a frown crossed her face. "Yes?" Daphne urged.

"My husband is a decent man, Miss Rogers," she said. "It's just that sometimes he.. . well, he likes sexual activities that I just can't bring myself to perform for him. That's all over now, of course, but when he was in the state legislature back home, there was a girl he used to see. He.. . he paid her to do things with him. I guess they talked."

"Has he seen her lately?"

Carolyn laughed, a rich, wholesome laugh that sent chills up Daphne's spine. She loved that laugh. "Heavens, no. That was years ago. Besides, some other men in the capitol used her, too. You could find her, and some of her friends, on the street corner after dark."

Daphne blushed, and tired to hide it. "I see," she whispered.

"My husband is older now, Miss Rogers. He's content with normal sex. There were just some things he liked . . . well, frankly, I've never been a big fan of the penis." Her gaze penetrated deeply behind Daphne's eyes. "Before I married, I much preferred the company of women."

Daphne swallowed. Carolyn said: "Tell me, Miss Rogers. What's a lovely creature like yourself doing this type of filthy work for?"

Daphne froze in her seat. She could not move, not even when Carolyn rose and walked toward the back of the house. She stopped, and crooked a finger at Daphne. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

Daphne felt the blood flowing through her legs again, and she followed the woman, feeling like she was walking on clouds. She found herself in the bedroom, and Carolyn Whitlock had already pulled the terry cloth robe off. Again, Daphne's wits failed her.

"Don't you think I'm beautiful?" Carolyn said. Dumbly, Daphne nodded. "Don't you want me?"

To her amazement, Daphne nodded again. "Well, then. Come here."

Daphne did not move. Carolyn's eyes took no a look of command. "Come here, Miss Rogers."

One step, then two, she lost count of how many steps she took, or how she even managed to take them, before stopping a half-foot from the naked woman. Carolyn spread her legs, and stood before Daphne, her hands on her hips. "Put your hand on my cunt," Carolyn said. Daphne could not move, not even lift a finger.

Carolyn took her hand, and put it between her legs, then slid it up until Daphne's palm held her satiny pussy. With her hand still holding Daphne's, she used her middle finger to push Daphne's middle finger through the moist, slippery crack of her vagina and inside.

Daphne shuddered, but it was not a shudder of revulsion. The finger inside the cunt of the

Congressman's wife felt warm and wet, and a musky odor rose to her nostrils and made her dizzy.

"Kiss me," Carolyn said. Again, Daphne was riveted to her spot, and Carolyn used her other hand to cradle Daphne's neck and pull her close. Daphne offered no resistance. She allowed herself to be maneuvered up against Carolyn's warm, naked body, and she allowed her to plant her firm, full lips against her own. When their mouths were locked, Daphne let out a guttural moan that sent shivers through Carolyn's finger-filled cunt.

Carolyn parted her lips, and Daphne obediently followed suit. Carolyn's tongue, large, full and soft, slipped from between her lips and found Daphne's mouth-serpent, and caressed it. Daphne felt a twitching above her own thighs, and the finger buried deep in Carolyn's tight little hole began to quiver, flicking gently against the firm little clitoris she found there, big enough to be like a miniature penis.'

"Take your clothes off," Carolyn said.

Now Daphne was able to act, motivated by a welling excitement expanding within her. She slipped the zipper down the length of her wool dress, and stepped out of it, then unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall from her shoulders, dropping to the floor behind her.

Carolyn's eyes widened when she saw Daphne's globular breasts, creamy smooth and milky white, spilling over the top of her flimsy brassiere and straining to burst free from it.

"Go on," she said, her voice shortened by her quickened breath. Daphne, inspired by a wickedness inside she had never known before, lifted her finger to her upper lift and breathed deeply the fragrance of Carolyn's sweet cunt juice. Her heart beat sped up, and she stepped out of her pumps and unlatched the silk stockings that coated her long, slender legs. Her nervousness made her undress slowly in order to avoid clumsiness, and the woman before her was impatient, but aroused at her sluggish pace. Unaware that she was doing anything, Carolyn had cupped her pussy with her own hand, and pressed against it hard, trying to contain her excitement.

"I. . . I've never . . . loved a woman before," Daphne said, her voice shaking.

"I have," Carolyn said confidently. "Take your panties off. Oh, for the love of God, take them off."

Daphne hooked her thumbs over the sides of her skimpy panties, and pushed them down over her knees, and let them settle around her ankles. She hadn't known it, but the stimulation she had received from Carolyn had turned her own vagina into a reservoir of female lubricant, and her sparse pussy hair glimmered from the juice that had leaked out. Without provocation from Carolyn, she reached up behind her back and unlatched her brassiere, and flung it forward, her compressed, restrained tits freed.

"My God," Carolyn said. "You're beautiful." It was more than her fiance had ever told her, and the words rang like an orgasm in her ears and flooded her pussy with a flash of heat. Carolyn settled her hands on Daphne's hips and pulled her close again. She had arched her midriff out, and their pussies were the first parts of their bodies to make contact. Carolyn's hands slid around and gripped Daphne's cheeks, and pulled her cunt as hard as she could against her own, and ground her hips lewdly. A bolt of lightning exploded along Daphne's spine, and a fine layer of sweat burst out over her forehead and her lips.

She wrapped her arms around Carolyn's shoulders and kissed her again, hungrily thrusting her tongue deep inside the woman's anxious, awaiting mouth. Her tongue traced a line along her gums, then felt her teeth, and finally settled beneath Carolyn's tongue. But Carolyn wasn't interested in kissing. Her nails dug sharply into Daphne's ass, pulling it toward the floor. Willingly, Daphne sunk to her knees, not letting her hair fringed fissure separate from Carolyn's.

On their knees, though, Carolyn pushed Daphne on her back and crawled between her obscenely splayed legs. Again, her cunt came to rest on Daphne's, and Carolyn buried her head between Daphne's fleshy mounds, her hand pulling and pinching her distended nipples.

Then Carolyn began to move. She swung one leg over each side of Daphne's torso, and settled her sopping cunt on her belly. Daphne felt the warm stickiness of her lubricant rubbing on her stomach, and a hot itch invaded her own little hole. Carolyn shifted upward, and her cunt now ground against her breastplate. Then, to her shock and surprise, Carolyn rose above her and settled her pussy, her sizzling lips held open with two shiny-wet fingers, over her right breast. With her other hand, she guided the huge, erect nipple of Daphne's breast inside her fleshy cleft, then closed her thighs around her tit.

Daphne latched onto her by the ass, and pulled her cheeks apart as she felt her supersensitive nipple make contact with Daphne's cock-like clitoris. Carolyn moaned, and began to jiggle erotically atop the breast she had captured in her vagina. Daphne stroked her other free breast, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be overwhelmed by sensations. Her cuntal walls shivered, and she knew she had to be satisfied. Wanton arousal overtook her, and she shoved Carolyn off her penis-substitute breast.

"What . . . ? " Carolyn moaned, but Daphne had already straddled herself over Carolyn's face, and she shoved her anguish-ridden cunt against Carolyn's mouth.

Immediately Carolyn extended her tongue, navigating through the tight curls of pussy hair, spreading cunt lips and burrowing deep inside Daphne's warm, wet cavern. It had been a long time since anything had been inside her vagina-and a lot longer since anything had been inside that she wanted there. Her eyes screwed shut as Carolyn's tongue curled around her little, rock-hard clitoris, and began sucking on it. She felt a scream rise in her throat, and she tried to contain it, but there was no control. The scream passed her lips, and she opened her eyes to a world filled with haze and color. Every feeling she had was concentrated in her centimeter-thick clitoris and on her cuntal walls, which were massaged by Carolyn's animated lips.

She looked down, and saw Carolyn's knees were bent and her legs spread. Amazed, she watched as the woman's pussy walls expanded and contracted, the lips quivered visibly, the flesh jumped. Grinding her cunt harder against Carolyn's face, almost suffocating her with her flesh, she dove between Carolyn's milk-white thighs and began licking the liquid from between her pink pussy lips.

When the fluid was gone, she pushed her tongue beyond the lips and inside, seeking more juice. She found it, a lot of it, and she drank deeply of it, like mead from a gauntlet. In her quest for the intoxicating liquor, her tongue flicked occasionally against Carolyn's monstrous clitoris, and each touch of the hard button seemed to make it grow. Her own clitoris was being pulled and rotated inside her with the curl of Carolyn's tongue, and rivers of heat rushed through her body until she exploded, gushing waves of female cum juice over Carolyn's face. As she climaxed, she nibbled unaware on Carolyn's clitoris, which was so big now it stuck slightly out of her pussy. It burst inside her mouth, and she felt it go limp, then she dove back to the pussy and drank away all of the orgasmic residues.

"Baby, but you're good," Carolyn said. Daphne crawled off her and looked at her stretching like a contented cat. Her glorious black hair was a mess of tangles, and she shone from the exertion-sweat over her entire body.

Shocking herself, Daphne realized she had not had enough. She knew she wasn't a lesbian, but she needed more of this now. She rolled Carolyn over on her side and lifted her upper leg.

Carolyn laughed. "Haven't you had enough, Miss Rogers?"

Daphne croaked out, "No."

She slid herself between Carolyn's long, tapering legs, until their raw vulvas were jammed against one another. She lay comfortably on the soft, fleshy inside of Carolyn's thigh, and gyrated her cunt madly against the other's. She squirmed, trying to mash their pussies closer together, and she felt Carolyn's amazing clitoris harden again, and penetrate the sore, red lips of her vagina.

She gasped when Carolyn took hold of her foot and began sucking sensuously on her big toe. The pressure from the flat of Carolyn's gaping hole stimulated her own clitoris, and after thrashing about, locked together, for several minutes, they climaxed together.

Daphne lay on the thigh peacefully, spent. Slowly, her senses returned to her, and a huge red blush rose in her face. Suddenly, she was ashamed. Quickly, she slid off Carolyn and began to dress.

"What's your hurry, darling?" Carolyn asked.

"I. . . I've got work to do." She hooked her stocking to her garter, and began pulling the other one over her leg. She cursed silently to herself when she saw a long run streaking down the lower length of it.

Carolyn sat, then rose and shrugged back into her terry cloth housedress. For an instant, the desire cascaded back into Daphne when she saw the terry-cloth hugging her voluptuous figure.

"Come back any time," Carolyn said. "By the way, I'm sorry I wasn't able to help any more." She went into the living room and poured herself a drink.

Daphne stepped into her shoes and walked out, not saying another word to her brief lover, or even looking at her. She was afraid to look at her, afraid of the lust that would course through her. She was Humiliated by that lust.

She parked her car at her apartment and went upstairs for a long shower that did not wash away as much of the experience as she wished it would. Then she left again, taking a cab into the Capitol.

As the Capitol Dome rose in front of her, she began to feel better. She was back in D.C, back in the thick of politics and back at her task-finding out who is responsible for those damaging leaks.

She realized she was ravenously hungry, and had the cabbie take her to the House cafeteria. She preferred eating there instead of the Senate cafeteria, because she liked avoiding nosy aides of other Senators prying into her boss's doings.

She felt the cabby's eyes watching her swiveling ass as she walked away from the cab, and was grateful for the security of the cafeteria, where hundreds of nameless, faceless Congressmen and assistants and secretaries were stopped for a quick, tasteless bite to eat.

She found a secluded table, and sat down with her tray, which held a limp-looking roast beef sandwich and a glass of milk. She wolfed it down, and was about to leave (where? where do I go from here?) when a hulking figure of a man sat next to her.

"So how's tricks, Daph?" the man said. She looked up at his looming bulk, and saw it was Dan Gore, the president's press secretary.

"Hi, Dan," she said.

"I heard you were on a leave of absence. Nothing serious, I hope."

God, but news travels fast in Washington, she thought. Then it occurred to her: if anybody knew anything about leaks in D.C., it would be the press secretary. "Dan, you must be aware of all the secrets that are being made public in the city," she said.

"Hell," he sputtered, his mouth full of chicken salad. "Everybody's aware of it. It's a fuckin scandal is what it is."

"Confidentially, I'll tell you that I'm trying to find out who's behind it."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Roland know that what you're up to?"

She shook her head. "I'm doing it on my own."

"Good luck," Dan said. He brushed back his drooping curls of red hair and wiped a napkin across his rugged, Irish face. "You already seem to know that one person or group is responsible, but they're real pros. Hard to nail down."

"Can you give me any leads?"

He smiled, and shook his head. "Sorry, Daph." And from his smile, she knew he knew something. The only question was, how to get it out of him.

The answer hit her like a rock. Sex. She tried to dismiss the idea, telling herself it was crude and unnecessary. She refused to go fucking every man and woman-in Washington who might have a clue about this affair.

She watched her chew his sandwich, staring off at the crowd of lunchers in the cafeteria, a sly smile on his lips. Sex was what he wanted; it would be.. . easy.

She steeled herself and reached under the table, caressing his cock through his pants. He stopped chewing, and stopped smiling, but his eyes lit up and she felt his penis-proportionally large to his towering body-stiffen. She sipped her milk as she squeezed his thick, meaty shaft under the table, pulling on it and stroking it.

"What do you know?" she whispered. He said nothing, but his mouth worked in the throes of ecstasy. She kept squeezing, his cock so large now that she had no problem grasping its entire shaft through the material. She was amazed that it continued to grow, then suddenly he closed his eyes and sighed, and she felt her hand turn warm and damp. He had come in his pants.

When he opened his eyes, she asked again, 'Tell me what you know."

"Not much," his voice told her in a weak tone. "Honestly. Just that Greg Stafford over at the Trib is looking into it. Has been for some time."

Daphne smiled. She didn't know Gregory Stafford, but she had read his by-line a hundred times in the Washington Tribune. He was considered by some a muckraker, by others a superb investigative reporter. He had uncovered more scandals in D.C. than most entire newspaper staffs uncover in the entire world. He had twice won the Pulitzer Prize, and was one of the journalistic elite. Next stop, she told herself, the Washington Tribune.

She rose, and Dan grasped her hand. "Look what you did," he said, mock pouting. A dark stain had covered his crotch.

"I would suggest you go home and change," she told him.

"How about if you come with me?"

She shook her head. "I've got work to do." 'Tonight, then? Dinner?"

She smiled, entranced at the new power she held over such a powerful man. "I don't think so, Dan."

She left the table, and walked back out into the muggy Washington summer.