crisis point in her life and she was acting like a prostitute. She
needn’t approach the issue in this way. She knew that. The tugging she
was feeling from another sector of her being was disrupting her
decision-making processes.
She could not allow that, not now.
She should go change again, retreat back to the living room, or Peerhaps
to her study where the dark oak paneling and walls of books would quash
the unsettling rumblings.
He eyed her steadily. “Yes.”
She was about to get up but never made it.
“I’d take one for you too, Gloria.”
“For me?” Her voice quavered. She looked at him again, her strategic
plans forgotten, her eyes wide.
“Without thinking. Lot of Secret Service agents. Only one Chief of
Staff. That’s the way it works.” He looked down and said quietly, “It’s
not a game, Gloria.”
When he went again for more beer he noticed that she had moved close
enough that her knee touched his thigh when he sat down. She stretched
her legs out, rubbing against his, and then she rested them on the table
across from them. The pullover had somehow worked-itself up, revealing
thighs that were full and creamy white; they were the legs of an older
woman, and a damned attractive one. Collins eyes moved slowly across
the display of skin.
“You know I’ve always admired you. I mean all of the agents.” She almost
seemed embarrassed. “I know sometimes you get taken for granted. I want
you to know that I appreciate you.”
“It’s a great job. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He chugged another
beer, and felt better. His breathing relaxed.
She smiled at him. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“Anything to help, Gloria.” His confidence level was going up as his
alcohol intake increased. He finished the beer and she pointed with an
unsteady finger to a stand of liquor over by the door. He mixed drinks
for them, sat back down.
“I feel I can trust you, Tim.”
“You can.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel that way
with Burton.”
“Bill’s a top agent. The best.”
She touched his arm, left it there.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I know he’s good. I just don’t know about
him sometimes. It’s hard to explain. It’s just an instinct on my part.”
“You should trust your instincts. I do.” He looked at her.
She looked younger, much younger, like she should be graduating college,
ready to take on the world.
“My instincts tell me that you’re someone I can depend on, Tim.”
“I am.” He drained his drink.
“Always?”
He stared at her, touched his empty glass to hers. “Always.”
His eyes were heavy now. He thought back to high school.
After scoring the winning touchdown in the state championship. Cindy
Purket had looked at him just like that. An allgiving iook on her face.
He laid his hand on her thigh, rubbed it up and down. The flesh was just
loose enough to be intensely womanly. She didn’t resist but instead
inched closer. Then his hand disappeared under the pullover, tracing
over her still firm belly, just nicking the undersides of her breasts,
and then returning into view. The other arm encircled her waist, drawing
her closer to him; his hand dropped down to her bottom and gripped hard.
She sucked in air and then let it out slowly, as she leaned into his
shoulder. He felt her chest push into his arm, up and down. The floating
mass was soft, and warm.
She dropped her hand to his hardening crotch and squeezed, then lingered
her mouth over his, slowly pulling back and looking at him, her eyelids
moving up and down in slow rhythms.
She put her drink down, and slowly, almost teasingly, slid out of the
pullover. He exploded against her, hands digging under the bra strap
until he felt it give way and she poured out to him, his head buried in
the loose mounds. Next, the last remaining piece of clothing, a pair of
black lace panties, was ripped from her body; she smiled as it was sent
sailing against the wall. Then she caught her breath as he lifted her