The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 47

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Finishing their meal, Frank paid the bill, and as they walked out to Betsy’s car, she brought up the fact that he had not answered her question. “I guess I don’t have an answer just yet,” he said. Betsy was not surprised, knowing that politicians usually have a habit of evading questions—not because they don’t have an answer, but because they do. They simply don’t wish to share an unpleasant agenda with those who could vote them out of office. Politics is no longer about doing right for the country and its people. It’s about power and money, and many members of Congress hold a net worth into the millions of dollars. Politics is good business.

As much as it pained her, Betsy was forced to withhold any more questions, believing that continuing might affect their rather unusual friendship. The benefits of which went back to college, and both of them wanted to see it continue. Love was still out of the question, and neither felt any inkling of the need for a committed relationship. They were simply two grownups having fun treating each other’s bodies as playgrounds of sexuality. With Betsy at the wheel, they made their way back to her apartment. Now that Frank had won the election, both of them felt that his house might be under the eyes of people looking to discredit him. He also believed that the men who had often visited him would have him under surveillance, as he was now of more value to the group they represented—one step away from the most powerful position in the country.

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The drive to Betsy’s apartment was not far, but unable to control herself, she kept one hand on the wheel while the other found its way into Frank’s pants. He had never seen her in such a state and, surprised, commented on her behavior. “In a bit of a hurry, aren’t we?” he asked. Squeezing down, she began stroking him while replying to him.

“I told you,” she said. “I need to be fed. Don’t you remember?”

He had remembered every word, and as they pulled up in front of her apartment, she exposed him, and leaning down took him into her mouth. Frank suddenly became nervous, not wanting to be seen in such a compromising situation.

“We need to go inside,” he said. “Anybody could see us like this.”

So tense had he become that he felt the need to gently push her away.

“We can’t do this out here,” he continued. “This could affect your career too.”

Suddenly sitting up, Betsy organized her thoughts, and realizing the potential consequences of being seen in such a manner, she checked her rearview mirror as well as the side mirrors. This late at night, there were very few people milling about, so the area was free of prying eyes, hopefully. It was two in the morning when they walked into Betsy’s apartment, and with stomachs fed, Betsy removed her shoes and quickly peeled off her nylon stocking, all while Frank made himself comfortable on her couch. But after the busy day he had and all the energy he had expended, Frank began to drift off. This did not go unnoticed as Betsy rushed over and,

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straddling his legs, lifted her skirt. As in many times before, underneath, there was nothing but shaved skin and perfect tone.

“Don’t you fall asleep on me,” she said. “We had dinner. Now I want dessert.”

Unzipping him again, she decided the only way to fully wake him was to stimulate him, and bringing her head down, she again took him deeply into her mouth and occasionally further into her throat. Frank was now awake. But this did not bring an end to Betsy’s favorite meal as she continued to deeply bury him, then, nearly letting him free, bury him again. This was performed repeatedly until he was fully turgent, and suddenly getting up from the couch, he picked her up with one hand between her legs, his fingers deep within her. With this act, Betsy’s arousal was mounting, as she let out a series of gasps and moans.

“So, you want dessert, huh?” he asked. “I’ll give it to you on a fucking silver platter.”

Betsy smiled as his fingers slipped deeper into her warm, moist body. Soon he threw her on the bed and commenced to removing her clothes—then his own. Once disrobed, they tumbled around on the bed like teenagers preparing to give up their virginity. Suddenly putting Betsy on her back, Frank looped his arms under her knees and, bringing them up near her shoulders, worked his way into her. Once he was in the right place, he forcefully drove himself into her willing body, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. “You’ve never done this before,” she said. Continuing to force his way in, Frank replied between moans of arousal.

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“I thought this time you might want to watch,” he replied.

Bending her head back, Betsy’s breathing began to quicken as she brought her hands up and began stroking her fingers down his back. Soon, both were covered in sweat as Frank continued his repeated, forceful entry. Betsy was suddenly struck with an idea of her own and asked to change positions. She had already achieved release once and was determined to do so as many times as her body would allow.

“Let me on top,” she said.

Releasing her from his grip, He withdrew himself and, lying on his back, watched as Betsy straddled his hips. Guiding him in, she slowly turned around with her back towards him. For Frank, the sensation was, at first, unusual, but after a slight repositioning, both felt an odd pressure as Betsy quickly achieved release twice more. A third time was met with his body exploding with passion. The energy of their sexual adventure was now ebbing away as exhaustion began to overtake them. Soon, they found themselves on their backs; their breathing still quickened as the sweat that covered their bodies began to lose its warmth.

“Holy shit,” Betsy said. “It is fucking cold in here.” Grabbing the covers, she pulled them up over her chilled body as Frank, feeling the cold as well, covered himself up to his neck.

“Does this mean I’m staying for the night?” he asked.

After a moment’s thought, Betsy asked what she thought was an important question.

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“Well,” she began. “That depends. Do you want to be seen leaving my place in the morning? You are only weeks away from being sworn in, you know.” Reality suddenly forced its way in as Frank got out of bed.

“You know,” he replied. “You’re absolutely right. I can’t afford a scandal before I’m even sworn in.” As he got dressed he took the opportunity to glance at his watch.

“Four in the morning,” he said. “Good, I can get back to my place without being seen. Can you give me a ride?”

Betsy was already getting dressed, having anticipated Frank’s request.

“Of course,” she answered.

Since he had won the election, she had begun asking herself an important question, and now seemed as good a time as any.

“So,” she began. “Do you think there will be a place for me once you take office?”

He was nearly frantic to leave but took a moment to consider her request.

“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “I’m going to need someone to act as a go-between for me when it comes to the media, and since you’ve worked as a journalist, you probably know all the ins-and-outs of how all of that works. So consider yourself hired.” Betsy was ecstatic. Knowing she would be working for a senator meant that, by some miracle, if he ever became president, she would likely work for him in the same capacity.

“Thanks boss,” she said.

Frank was not one for titles and insisted that in private she refer to him by his name.

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