NOTES:
Author: Yana
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 4 up to GNB
Disclaimer: I never conceived of The West Wing nor do
I own it. The slogan used herein likely belongs to some over-the-counter
painkiller. I couldn't find which, but in any case, neither positive nor
negative reference to that brand is intended.
Archive: Please ask.
Acknowledgements: To my sister, for telling me about
time spent on the wrong side of a Robaxacet. Or was it Doan’s? Though she
only said that for a few hours she got distracted easily and had trouble
concentrating...she was not delusional or hallucinatory :) Acknowledgements
also to my beta, Christine,
for slipping and falling, for dropping her breakfast and smashing her lunch,
for getting bruised and pulling a muscle, for remembering that she was
helped by a kind and concerned stranger...and then for allowing me to rip
a painful page out of her life and take fictional liberties with it for
entertainment.
AN: This is a sequel to Set Back,
which is a sequel to The Hour After, which
is an immediate sequel to Stolen Hour. You
should probably be familiar with those to know where this is coming from.
She’d actually been having a pretty good day. She’d had a sound, if not lengthy, night’s sleep. Her roommate had been up before her and had thoughtfully made extra coffee. Her English muffin had been toasted to just the right shade of golden brown and warm, melted butter had sunk easily into its soft, crusty nooks and crannies. There were even leftovers from the night before, that she’d been able to grab from the fridge to take for lunch.
It was a shame that the good part of her day had had to end so abruptly.
She always ran late. Well, not late exactly, since she always made sure she was running fifteen minutes ahead of Josh. That didn’t mean, though, that she didn’t cut corners. Today, she wasn't sitting down to eat her breakfast, wasn't even taking a minute to eat over the sink. She fumbled for her keys as she left her building, balancing her English muffin on top of her coffee cup, her bag slung over one arm while the other cradled her lunch container.
Black ice. Apparently it could form anywhere.
As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she found a slippery patch and her legs flew out from under her in a way that would have been amusing if it weren’t so painful.
Her leg buckled and her right ankle twisted under her as she tried to maintain her balance, but to no avail. She landed on her backside hard and heard a cracking sound. Alarmed, her eyes widened as she took stock of her body, wondering what had made the noise. Then she noticed her plastic lunch container, which had skittered into the middle of the street, completely flattened from where a car had run it over. It made a few more half-hearted cracking sounds as the traffic crunched it flatter.
Then she felt a warm wetness seeping up her pant leg, looked down, and groaned. Her coffee had spilled all over the ground, and now she was sitting in it. Her warm, buttery, perfectly-golden-brown English muffin had fared no better, the halves sitting butter-side-down on the cold, grimy concrete. She shut her eyes and groaned again.
She should have known the first forty-five minutes of her day would be the best. But no, she had optimistically assumed that the rest of the day would be just as good. Shifting her weight a bit in a token attempt to avoid the encroaching puddle of coffee, she lectured herself about getting her hopes up time and time again.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked.
She looked up and met the eyes of a concerned young man. “Thanks,” she smiled weakly, “I think so.”
“Let me help you up,” he said, offering his hand.
“I’m okay, really...”
“Just make sure you can stand,” he insisted.
She took his hand gratefully and let him pull her up. “I think I’m lucky,” she said. “Aside from the coffee on my clothes and a sore ass...” She took a step and pain lanced through her ankle.
Fortunately, her benefactor caught her before she fell and steadied her. “Do you need a hand getting somewhere?”
So a handsome, well-dressed young man helped her back to her door, refused any offer of recompense, and called her ma’am. A good kid, she thought. Then she thought, Christ, I’m getting old.
It took her several precious minutes to get cleaned up and changed, but soon she was limping out the door again, with only her bag to burden her. Having decided while struggling with her slacks that she would splurge on a cab, she sank into its warm, comfortable back seat gratefully, trying to collect her thoughts and get her day back on track.
At least, she thought, noone had been there to see her fall except the nice young man who had come to her rescue, and he hadn’t snickered or smirked while he helped her up.
That was a pleasant change.
Wait, that wasn’t fair. When she fell--metaphorically speaking--Josh never made fun of her.
And she didn’t tease him either, when he--or his pants--fell.
God, that had been funny. She was still surprised that he’d shaken it off so quickly.
And damn, he had a nice ass. Good legs, too.
She was still contemplating half-naked Josh in his polka-dot boxers when her cab stopped at the gate. She paid the driver and limped into the West Wing, hugging the walls in the hopes that the people rushing by wouldn’t bump into her. Bonnie spied her first and hurried over, concerned.
“Donna! What happened to you?”
She told the story as Bonnie helped her to her desk.
“Did you put ice on it?”
“No time.”
“What do you need?”
“Bonnie,” she began, “You don’t have to...”
“I’m a busy woman,” Bonnie said with a grin. “The quicker you tell me, the quicker I can get back to my own work.”
Donna gave up, smiling. “I take it Josh is here.”
“He’s around somewhere.”
“Would you grab his schedule...actually...there’s a pile of stuff on his desk. Would you just bring it all here?”
Bonnie was laughing as she came back with a heap of files and folders. “Damn, you weren’t kidding,” she said, clearing a space on Donna’s desk and trying to organize everything into a neat stack.
While she did that, Donna tried to get comfortable in her chair, kicking off her shoes. She tried to cover her wince of pain as she said thank you.
Bonnie just snorted. “I’m getting you some aspirin.”
She was back quickly with some aspirin and water, and Donna thanked her again. Once she'd left, Donna did her best to ignore the ache in her backside, and tried not to think about the fact that she should be elevating her throbbing ankle.
She organized Josh’s phone messages into some semblance of order, then started in on the files he would need for the day. Because she hadn’t seen him yet that morning, he hadn’t given her any new projects to work on, so pretty much everything she needed was already within arm’s reach.
She worked solidly for a few hours with barely any interruption, shifting in her chair occasionally to keep her behind from getting sore again. Josh breezed in twice during that time, grabbed his schedule and messages, and left again with barely a word to her.
The aspirin hadn't helped; her ankle still throbbed. When Ginger suddenly ducked her head around the corner of her cubicle, she started in surprise and then yelped as her foot hit the leg of her desk.
Ginger winced in sympathy and held out her hand. “Bonnie told me. Here. Ibuprofen.”
“I took some aspirin earlier...”
“This is better.” Ginger bustled away and refilled her glass with water.
Donna downed the pills obediently and Ginger kept her company for a few minutes, chattering about all the things Donna would have known if she’d been up and walking the halls. On the plus side, she reflected, she was making some real inroads on the work she had. She might actually leave work at a reasonable hour.
Sleep. That would be nice.
Ginger seemed to notice her attention fading and put a hand on her shoulder, offering herself and Bonnie as extra help for Josh if Donna wanted to go home. Donna declined, but when Ginger insisted, she promised to consider it.
She went back to work and within an hour had completely finished one of the projects she’d been working on sporadically for the past two weeks. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, happy to take a quick break. Idly, she wondered why she hadn’t seen more of Josh. If he was getting tied up in meetings, that couldn’t bode well for her hopes for an early night.
Of course, she hadn’t had an early night since she’d come back from her vacation. Josh had been in a weird mood since the election...more edgy than usual...and the foreign aid bill had just...
“Donna?”
She realized Jack, spiff and polished in his uniform, had been standing there for a few moments, and had already said her name a couple of times. Startled, she sat up in her chair, then promptly yelped as her ankle bumped the desk leg again.
She managed a weak smile. “Hey.”
Jack frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah!” She tried for enthusiasm. “I just slipped on some ice this morning.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. So my ankle...”
“Have you had anyone take a look at it?” Jack asked, concerned.
“No, no...it’s just twisted...”
Jack was ignoring her, though, crouching down beside her and lifting her foot carefully to examine it.
“Are you a doctor?” she smiled.
“First aid is essential in the field,” he grinned back. “It doesn’t look too bad...but you have to keep it elevated.”
She sighed. “Not really possible at the moment. Josh is supposed to have a meeting in his office any minute now, so I can’t use it...and I can’t exactly put my feet up on the desk out here...where are you going?” she queried as he disappeared into Josh’s office.
He emerged with a stack of heavy binders. “From the top shelf, right?” he asked, grinning as he remembered her funny story about Josh.
“He won’t even look at them right now,” she chuckled. “But what...”
“Scoot.” He rolled her chair to the side and crawled under her desk with the binders. “There,” he said as he stacked them in a pile. “Your leg, madam...”
Obediently, she stuck out her leg and he pulled the chair closer, trapping himself between her and her desk. She let him rest her ankle on the makeshift footstool.
“Too high?” he asked.
She shifted and tried to sit up, but it was difficult to tell. “I think it’s o...hey, Josh.”
“Hey.” He gave them both a quizzical look. She realized what she and Jack must look like, her legs planted on either side of him as he crouched in front of her, half under the desk. Whoops.
“I slipped on some ice this morning,” she explained hastily. “Jack was just...”
“Making her a little footstool,” Jack said with a fond grin as he rose and stepped away from her, still looking as polished as ever.
Josh looked from her to Jack and back again. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Sure,” she managed. “Whoops,” she snickered once he was out of sight.
Jack’s face showed his amusement briefly. “Yeah. Look, Donna...”
The sudden change in his tone of voice had her sitting up straight. “What?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’m going to have to break our date for tonight,” he confessed.
“What?” She hadn’t remembered anything about a date.
He took her puzzlement for annoyance. “I’m sorry, I know. We haven’t really been out since we got back...”
Should she admit that she’d forgotten?
Hell no.
“That’s okay,” she said.
“I’m really sorry...”
She waved away his apology. “I haven’t exactly been available either.”
“But still...”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.”
He gave her a brief peck on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She smiled. “I’ll look forward to that.”
When he left she racked her brain until she finally remembered. Something about their two month anniversary. She hadn’t even made the connection, though they’d made plans for it over Christmas.
Whoops again. She’d blame her distraction on her ankle if he asked.
Settling back in her chair, she found her leg was much more comfortable now that it rested horizontally. As she started to work on her next half-finished project, though, she realized that while her ankle was in a better position, the rest of her, particularly her lower back, had to stretch to compensate as she typed.
People came and went from Josh’s office, and in the interim she did her best to ignore her discomfort, shifting one way, then another, trying to avoid cramps. Her rear end, however, was already having a bad day, what with cushioning her initial fall, and she found herself trying to compensate for it as well as her ankle.
“Aaaagh!” She finally pushed away from her computer and leaned back in her chair. Her other ankle joined the first one on the pile of binders under her desk. Better, she thought, staring at the ceiling. Horizontal is so much better than vertical. She let her eyes drift closed.
Carol found her that way five minutes later. “Hey.”
Donna cracked an eyelid and turned her head in the direction of Carol’s voice. “Hey.”
“I heard. You okay?”
“You know, I’d be so much better if my computer screen were suspended from the ceiling.” She leaned back again and raised her arms in front of her. “Right about there.”
“Problems?”
“My back is killing me.”
“Ouch. I have something for that.”
Donna chuckled softly. “That’s okay. I’ve already taken aspirin and ibuprofen.”
Carol hmmphed. “Kid’s stuff. Let me get you a back pill.”
“Uh, thank you, but I don’t think I should be taking any prescription painkillers while I’m sitting outside the door of the third most powerful man in the White House.”
Carol looked in the direction of Josh’s door. “Him?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’d think sitting outside this office would be the best excuse for heavy medication you could find.”
Donna smiled wanly. “You’re probably right. But...”
“It’s not prescription, anyway,” said Carol. “The label says, ‘The strongest relief for back pain you can buy without a prescription.’”
“Oh.”
Carol took her lack of response for assent and was back within moments with two pills and yet another fresh glass of water. Donna suppressed a smile. These high-level executive assistants certainly thought of everything.
She looked down at the pills in her hand. “Two?” she asked doubtfully.
“That’s all you’ll need for the rest of the day,” Carol promised.
“Okay...” She swallowed them and mustered a smile. “Thanks, Carol.”
“You need anything, you let me know.”
“I will,” Donna promised. She shifted in her chair until she found a part of her rear end that wasn’t sore, then started to work again. Minutes passed, and more minutes, until she realized that she wasn’t paying attention to the words on the screen. Sighing, she told herself to keep going. It would be easy enough to go back and pick up any errors after the whole document had been roughed out.
For some reason, though, her mind seemed to perform more and more slowly. It was as if the words on her screen were gradually changing into unrecognizable characters. She couldn’t get her brain to focus, and she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Then she realized what the problem must be: she hadn’t eaten anything that day, except for a few precious swallows of hot coffee and one bite of a warm, golden-brown, buttery English muffin that was almost certainly pigeon food by now. And the lunch she’d planned on was roadkill.
She resolved never to start a day with a positive outlook ever again.
Should she go down to the Mess? Could she make it without being bowled over? Was it worth it for food? Did she really want to go anywhere at all?
She leaned back in her chair and made sure both her feet were resting comfortably on the makeshift footstool. Rationalizing her break by telling herself she had already accomplished more today than she usually got done in ten hours, she let her mind wander.
It wandered back to work. Of course, she thought. What else would she dwell on? Her boyfriend had cancelled the date she hadn’t remembered they’d made, so that whole thing was... well... depressing, on more levels than she cared to contemplate. It was much easier to wonder why the hell she'd been able to work uninterrupted for more than three straight hours.
Josh just hadn’t been around, bellowing every second minute. And his phone hadn’t been ringing. None of that boded well for her ‘go home early’ idea.
She decided to blame the foreign aid bill. Josh had been in a strange mood for the last month or two, probably since they’d started in on it. Ever since Christmas, though, he’d been edgy. It was like he was trying to prove something by getting it passed.
Of course, seeing Josh on edge was like seeing a cloudy sky in November. It wasn’t that, in itself, which was unusual. It was the weird mix of tension and pensiveness. Occasionally she’d catch him staring blankly at the section of wall directly behind her while they worked together, and she’d have to wave at him to get his attention back.
She had no idea what he’d been thinking about, but she assumed that the strategies for the foreign aid bill probably still weighed heavily on his mind, especially since he’d been outvoted twice and then seen the chosen stratagem fail. When he stared off into space, though, a part of her wondered if he was thinking about foreign aid at all.
Of course he was thinking about foreign aid, she told herself sharply. Ever since Amy, the man had been all about work. No nights off, no fun, barely a break for election night. For months they’d had their heads down, working steadily, late into the night.
There was one change, though: Jack. Josh had been nicer about Jack than he’d been with the other gom--boyfriends she’d had. He usually ignored anything she might say about her dates, but this time, he seemed almost interested.
Almost.
He didn’t completely shut her down when she mentioned Jack. He didn’t actively ask questions, though, and often steered the conversation to another subject after a minute or two.
Maybe he was vaguely curious because of his role in “getting” Jack for her. She smiled to herself. She couldn’t help but talk about Jack to Josh a little bit. Jack was almost perfect for her, treating her the way she’d always wanted to be treated. Finally, she'd picked well, and she had to let Josh know that.
And Josh must have realized that Jack was good for her, and was trying to encourage her in his own twisted way.
Unless he was making up for the fact that he’d kept her late almost every night to work on the foreign aid bill with him. Maybe it was an attempt at restitution: he knew she could have had a social life if they weren’t so busy, and had reasoned that the second best thing to having a social life was talking about having one. It wasn’t ideal, but Josh was all about the subtleties of the situation.
Jack, of course, understood perfectly when she had to work late. She told herself again how lucky she was. Romance, she reminded herself, isn’t about finding a fairy-tale prince. It’s about finding a real, flesh-and-blood man who supports you and invites you into his life.
She smiled. Real life notwithstanding, Jack would look really hot decked out as her fairy-tale prince. He already looked damned fine in his uniform, though she hadn’t managed to convince him to wear it for her in the bedroom. But Jack as a prince...and her as a princess... She’d always had a thing for Cinderella. And Jack could whirl her around a ballroom like the professional athlete he was. Such strong arms, such a sure grip on her, and yet he was never proprietary.
Not like Josh. Josh just grabbed her whenever he needed her. Just took things, just assumed that things were going to go his way. Just assumed she was going to do what he said. Of course, that’s why he paid her. He could indulge his proprietary urges because he paid her...owned her for the time she was at work.
So where was he in this little Cinderella fantasy? Was he the fairy godmother, watching as his matchmaking attempts finally came to fruition? Or was he her wicked stepmother, who kept her working her fingers to the bone and didn’t let her have any fun?
Or did he have to be in this little fantasy at all?
Well, yes. The idea of Josh in a pink frilly ball gown, a little gold tiara perched rakishly on his curls and a little magic wand in one hand, saying “Bibbity bobbity boo” was too good to pass up.
She snickered out loud and wondered if he’d have wings.
Then she realized that if she was imagining Josh in a dress, the combination of medication and an empty stomach couldn’t be a good one
Sitting up in her chair again, she stared at her screen and tried to focus. Her brain rebelled, though, refusing to comprehend the words she was reading.
Fortunately, Josh showed up at the door to her cubicle right then to provide some more distraction. “Hey.” His expression was one of trepidation.
“Hey.”
“CJ needs to know what we’ve been doing on foreign aid.”
“She does know.”
“She needs soundbites. Carol’s swamped with the other thing.”
Another reason to work late, she thought. Of course. “Josh...” she whined.
He winced. “I’m sorry. I’ll call Jack and tell him...”
Sighing, she gave in to the inevitable. “You don’t have to. He’s already broken it off.”
“Broken it off?” Josh’s face was suddenly jubilant, then concerned again.
She frowned at him, annoyed. “Don’t look so happy.”
“Sorry.”
“He’ll make it up to me another night.”
“Sorry?” For a moment, Josh looked puzzled. Then he regained his composure. “Oh. Right.”
“What did you think I meant?” she asked, curious.
“Nothing!” he protested. “Just sorry that he’d broken off your date.”
“You looked happy, not sorry.” Direct observations seemed to be the best way to shake him these days.
“Donna! No, of course not... I was just...relieved...not to have to apologize, is all.”
She decided to let him off the hook. “Right.” She was probably just being oversensitive. Josh was always making innocent comments that could be taken the wrong way.
From behind his back he produced a styrofoam container. “Lunch. Because you can’t get to the mess.”
She looked up at him gratefully. “Thank you.”
He smiled in return. “I told them to give you my fries as well.”
“Voluntarily?” she asked in mock amazement.
“It was that or let CJ steal them. This way, they stay in the family.”
She snickered. “Thanks. I’ll give them a good home, I promise.”
He chuckled. “I have the thing now until five.”
She handed him a file. “Check page two and the summary at the back.”
“You finished this?” He looked surprised.
“I amaze even myself.”
He smiled. “You are indeed amazing, Donnatella.” Then he left her again.
She nibbled on the fries one by one in between bites of sandwich. It was nice of him to be that thoughtful on a day like today. Plus, he'd given away his fries. Lately he’d been doing that--voluntarily--more often than not. She wasn’t sure what had triggered the sudden desire to eat fewer fries, because he hadn’t been to the doctor in ages. But she was certainly going to encourage him to keep up his sudden urge to be healthy.
She started to organize the foreign aid information on index cards, and felt her eyelids start to droop. Of course, she told herself. The medication plus a heavy meal--why wouldn’t she need a nap? Idly she wondered how long they’d be that night. It was like the foreign aid bill would never end. He was never finished with it.
Never finished with her.
If it wasn’t foreign aid, though, it would be something else. Every week it was another excuse. Once foreign aid was through, he’d be using her for something different.
That sounded a little...dirty...
She shook herself. Not *using her* using her. It wasn’t anything like that.
Though, technically, being on salary, she was selling him her mind, her body, and her skills every day. And he always made use of what he’d paid for. Every night, using her, till late...very late...
She really needed to stop that train of thought.
Breathe, she thought. She stared at the index cards laid out in rows on her desk and tried to focus on them, tried to clear her mind. With little effort, she could imagine them wriggling on the desktop, dancing back and forth and taunting her with their blankness. Then they’d march off the desk like a row of big white ants, across the floor, over the filing cabinet, and out the door into the corridor.
She was never, ever going to take another back pill in her life.
Leaning close to the file she was scanning, she started moving her lips as she read to try and stay focused.
“Donna?”
“Donna?” Someone was trying hard to break her hard-won concentration.
“Donna?”
She gave in and looked up. “Hi Will.”
“You okay?”
She paused, then decided to lie. “Yeah,” she said with a brief smile. “Just concentrating.”
“I could see that. Does Josh have a minute?”
She checked his schedule and winced. “Maybe around five?”
“Can’t do five,” Will said. “Will he be here later?”
“Oh, hell, yes.”
Will noted her tone and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Foreign aid?” he guessed.
“What else?” she answered with a long suffering sigh.
“Josh practically has you handcuffed to his desk day and night.”
“Josh isn’t going to be happy until he and I have screwed every...” Her eyes dropped to the index cards. Why the hell had she written ‘Bill Gates - India’ on one of them?
“Cent,” Will supplied.
“Huh?” She looked back up at him and realized she hadn’t finished her last sentence. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Will grinned. “Say, did you know that sixty-eight...”
“If you want to get back to your office alive, you won't finish that sentence,” she said through gritted teeth.
Will’s smile widened. “Okay, I’m leaving now.”
She made a face at his retreating back.
She stared at the index cards a while longer, then decided to work in Josh’s office until he got back. She could wait the pills out there and not worry about how it looked for the Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff for Strategic Planning to be zoned out on medication at work.
She limped into his office carefully with an armful of files, not wanting to get bowled over. Shutting the door behind her, she sank into one visitors’ chair and put her feet up on the other.
She stared at the index cards again. He wouldn’t let her out of here until they were all finished.
Opening the top file, she started to scribble.
Two-thirds all aid. Israel. Egypt.
Top ten: Columbia. Russia.
0.7% target.
What the hell did that mean? She found the reference and scribbled more detail on the card.
Yen. Devaluation.
That reminded her...she hadn’t eaten Japanese in a while. Someone had given her a sushi kit for Christmas, but she hadn’t used it yet because she didn’t know where to get the rice. And Charlie had got to go to Japan once, but she had had to stay in DC. Her next job should be working for a foreign policy advisor, she decided, not a domestic one. Then she’d get to visit more exotic places than North Dakota.
She stared at the index card, drawing a complete blank as to why it was important, then decided she couldn’t be bothered. She was going to be there late into the evening anyway. Staring off into space, she let her mind wander again.
It was like he had something to prove. Maybe it was the whole giving-away-french-fries-going-to-the-gym thing. It was hard to believe that Josh would admit to needing self improvement. Whatever the reason, though, he was looking good. Not that he didn’t always look good.
She let her body slump down in the chair so that her head could rest against its back, and closed her eyes. Better, she thought with a sigh. Much, much better.
Whatever it was, he was acting differently. Getting caught up in his thoughts, assessing the foreign aid bill as he stared through her. Maybe the diet and exercise thing was just a symptom of something else. Something else that would explain his tense, driven attitude over the last few months.
Or maybe he’d noticed her checking out his ass that one day.
God, that had been funny.
And he had a really nice ass. Tight.
You didn’t mind being handcuffed to the desk of someone who had an ass like that. Add to that the pensive, assessing gaze...
God, he was hot.
Add to that the fact she’d accidentally found out a while ago...that he liked to snuggle...
God, he was sexy.
It was a good thing she was seeing someone, or else the phrase ‘working late at the office’ would have taken on a whole new meaning.
Or not. She wouldn’t really jump him.
Maybe if Carol gave her a couple more pills.
And one to loosen him up, too.
She snuggled deeper into the chair and sighed, closing her eyes. Nah, he wouldn’t need loosening up. He was big into the lustful staring thing right now. A little encouragement and he’d...
Lustful stares?
No, no, no. No lustful stares.
The pills she’d taken were dangerous in more ways than one. Now she was free associating.
Besides, he didn’t mind her being with Jack. Even though she hadn’t actually been able to spend an evening with Jack for longer than she cared to remember, because Josh needed her himself every night.
Scratch that. Josh availed himself of her skills, every night.
That didn’t sound much better.
Well really, it wasn’t like he...
Well, metaphorically speaking, you might say...
If she wanted to acknowledge the metaphor, it might mean that his entire office was one big den of sin.
She chuckled at the thought. You couldn’t call this cluttered, traditional office a den of sin. If she wanted to make it a den of sin, she’d have to get rid of the furniture. The desk and chairs and table and computer.
Maybe the floor could be one giant mattress. It wasn’t as if he had a huge office, anyway. Wall to wall, bigger-than-king sized mattress. Then she wouldn’t be falling asleep in a visitors’ chair.
With a box spring underneath, of course, so it wasn’t too low to the ground. Maybe a couple of mattresses, just to raise it to the right height. Bed height. So she could just tumble in the door and curl up whenever she needed a nap.
She snickered, picturing Josh taking meetings with senators, sitting crosslegged in the middle of a wall to wall mattress.
Naked.
Why the hell not?
That would be funny. Josh’s office as the den o’ sin. If you wanted to meet with him, you had to go sit on his mattress naked.
It would be so much easier to manage his schedule then, she thought. The sheer number of people who wouldn’t bother meeting him under those circumstances...
Of course, any time she went into his office...climbed on his mattress...it was the same thing, right? With wall to wall mattress...
Any time she opened the door to his office and climbed inside...
She’d be naked too.
Would she undress for him every time? A little heat spread through her. No. That would take too long on a regular day. Maybe when she climbed inside his office her clothes would vanish. They’d magically reappear when she left.
So now his office was a magical den o’ sin, she snickered.
And I’d have to work here every night. Late.
In the magical den o’ sin...
*****
She’d open the door. He’d look up from where he sat, crosslegged in the middle of the office/mattress, a big file folder open strategically in his lap.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You ready?”
“Sure.” With those words, she’d toss her index cards and pen onto the mattress.
They promptly changed themselves into handcuffs and a key.
Damn Will Bailey.
Her back-pill-induced version of Josh didn’t mind, though. He looked happy.
“Excellent.”
She climbed onto the office/mattress and her clothes disappeared, just like she knew they would. Josh’s eyes widened appreciatively, and he said, “I have the polling data. Let’s get started.”
He tossed the file folder into the air, and as it arced, it turned into a long, wooden post.
The post planted itself firmly upright near one wall.
She looked at the handcuffs. Then at the post. She supposed this was all her own fault, as she crawled towards the post on her hands and knees. If she hadn’t brought such informative index cards, they never would have turned into handcuffs.
She rolled over onto her back, head near the post, and let Josh handcuff her. He did one wrist, then stretched her arm up above her head, coaxing her to grip the post. He wrapped the handcuff chain around the pole before stretching her other arm up to join the first.
Secured this way, her hands pinned above her head, her breasts jutted upwards more than usual. As always, he spent a little time on preliminaries, asking her for an overview of the statistics she’d put together. As she ran through them, he nibbled idly at her erect nipples. Occasionally, he paused to ask a question, and while she answered, he slipped a finger down between her thighs.
He really didn’t need to bother with preliminaries; she was wet for him already.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Let’s get down to it.” He spread her legs and positioned himself between them. Handcuffed as she was, she couldn’t sit up, but she lifted her head up far enough to see his huge erection.
Wow. She wet her lips in anticipation.
He drove into her with one swift stroke, causing her to arch her back and cry out. Grunting, he lifted her hips and jerked forward a bit more, seating himself fully.
She gasped for breath.
“So let’s start with a comparison of the GDP stats,” he said, apparently oblivous to the fact he was buried inside her.
She started to recite facts just as he started to move, so her recitation was punctured by little moans and cries. He pumped his cock into her slowly, rhythmically, as he asked for clarification on one point or another.
As they worked through her facts, he worked on her. It was almost a normal conversation, if not for the fact that she would occasionally whimper with pleasure.
Then the phone rang.
Phone? Where?
Ah. The phone materialized on the mattress a foot or so away from her.
“Damn,” said Josh. He thrust into her deeply and held himself there with a hand on her hip, not seeming to register her body arching up against him or her gasp of shock. He answered the phone. “Lyman....No, Donna and I were just...I’ll be right there. Yes, I’ll tell her,” he promised, smiling at the receiver. When he hung up he said, “Leo needs to see me for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” She smiled up at him.
“He told me not to take advantage of you or your generous nature.”
“You do that all the time,” she pointed out.
He slipped out of her body and sat up. “True,” he grinned. “Be right back.”
He climbed off the mattress, and she raised her head just enough to see his blue suit materialize on him as he left the office. Then she slumped back. Somehow, it didn’t bother her to be lying there, naked, flushed, wet, and handcuffed. It was actually quite relaxing. But she did wonder why they always worked here and never at his place.
Right. His place didn’t have a big, mattress-filled room. All it had was a couch. Well, it probably had a bed, too, but they would never work in his bedroom. That would be inappropriate. No, it was best that they work here, where anyone who walked in could see that their relationship was clearly...
“Donna.”
She lifted her head up enough to see who was standing at the door. “Oh, hi Jack.”
He took in her naked, aroused, handcuffed body. “Working late, I see?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I had to cancel.”
She smiled. “That’s okay, Josh has plenty to keep me occupied into the next decade.”
“I can tell.”
“Hey, Jack,” came Josh’s voice from behind. “Donna said you cancelled.”
“I did. I can see you were quick to take advantage of that.”
Josh slipped past him into the office. “He who hesitates is lost.” His clothes vanished again and he wasted no time crawling across the mattress to Donna. “I learned that the hard way.” He climbed onto her and she spread her legs for him eagerly.
His attention had been on Jack, but he turned to her and watched her face as he entered her, taking more time and care than before. She moaned and he smiled widely in response, his dimples practically creaking.
Once he was sheathed in her he looked back over his shoulder at Jack. “I’ll make sure she gets dinner.”
Jack gave him a rueful grin. “Thanks, Josh. Donna?”
“Call me?” Donna piped up.
“Absolutely.”
Josh started to move then, so her acknowledgement turned into a little shriek.
“Oh, and Josh...” Jack said. Josh looked over his shoulder to meet Jack’s gaze but didn’t stop his thrusting.
“Yeah?”
“She needs to keep her ankle elevated.”
Consternation creased Josh’s face and he lifted himself away for her, pulling out of her almost completely.
“Donna, I’m sorry...” he began.
“It’s okay,” she assured him.
“I didn’t even think...”
“It’s just to keep the swelling down,” Jack interjected.
Josh frowned at Donna. “You should have said something.”
Donna nodded. “It’s okay, though.”
“No, no. I’m going to take care of it now. Which leg is it?”
She shifted one thigh. “That one.”
“All right.” He lifted her long leg up and draped it over his shoulder, then pressed forward into her again.
Donna couldn’t smother her cry of pleasure.
Josh sank into her a couple of times to get a feel for the new angle of penetration, and leaned forward over her, lifting her leg higher, making sure it was locked securely over his shoulder. “Is that elevated enough?” he asked Jack.
“Couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“You comfortable?” he asked Donna.
Comfortable wasn’t the word she’d use.
He pushed into her with renewed vigor now. Donna didn’t even notice Jack leave. It took all her concentration to focus on Josh's words while her body clamoured for him, welcoming him into her again and again.
She could feel it coming...a rising tide of pleasure riding through her...he moved faster, she gasped in time to his thrusts...his questions were incoherent to her now...she couldn’t form answers to save her life. Faster...faster...it was coming...she was coming...
Then someone cleared his throat.
She and Josh were way past...
*****
No, they weren’t. She opened her eyes, realized she was waking up approximately ninety seconds too soon, and squeezed them shut again. “Oh, god.”
“You okay there, Donnatella?” Josh--clothed Josh--asked from the doorway.
She looked up at him and immediately flushed. No, she thought. I’m dreaming about fucking you right here, right now.
His eyes darkened as he took in the arousal on her face. Arrested, his lips parted and he stopped breathing.
She realized what her face must have betrayed. For a moment, though, she was tempted not to hide it. His eyes began to burn into her, and she felt that familiar falling sensation in her chest. The connection between them started to deepen...thicken...pull them together...
She came to her senses two seconds later and slammed her professional mask back into place. Just as quickly as it had formed, the connection severed. Josh, too, suddenly looked completely professional, as if he had never so much as thought of her with any trace of lust.
If that’s what it was.
Visitors’ chairs, she decided, were a new torture device. Comfortable enough to fall asleep in, but too uncomfortable to stay asleep in. Her backside really ached. She set her feet back down on the floor gingerly. “Sorry. I took something for my ankle, and then...”
“It's no problem,” he said gently.
“Will wants to see you. He said he couldn't do five, but...”
“It's only four-thirty.”
“Oh?” She checked her watch. “You can probably catch him.”
And then, she thought after he’d left her alone in his office again, then she was stuck without an office-sized mattress and definitely without a naked Josh endeavouring to service her for the night. Instead she had acquired a conscience, which was asking her what the hell was going on with Jack.
And whether Josh had indeed responded to her arousal with an equally lustful stare.
And then, suddenly, everything slipped into place. The puzzle pieces clicked together; the picture slid into focus.
She had her moment of clarity.
Then she took a moment to wish, yet again, that the first, perfect forty-five minutes of her day had stayed around.
Of course Josh had been looking at her like that. He considered everybody like that. Hadn’t he said it himself? He liked everyone.
No, that wasn’t exactly true. She’d had to point out to him that he liked everyone. What he’d actually said was, “Guys’ll go out with anybody.”
Guys like him.
Fortunately, not all guys were like him. Some had standards.
She wanted to date someone with standards. Someone who didn’t automatically go for any petite brunette who happened to be walking by. Someone who could be swayed by an honest, if not entirely reasonable, argument. Someone who could gracefully ignore the weird, strange stories he heard about a person.
Of course Josh was staring at her with lust in his eyes.
Because this was Josh, who liked everyone. This was Josh, who absolutely refused...she recalled the question he’d evaded the night before Christmas...and the one he’d brushed off during the last foreign aid vote...who absolutely refused to give her a straight answer about any aspect of their relationship.
And it wasn’t just her, she realized. Amy had never been able to talk to him. Neither had Mandy. Smart women. Decisive women. Professional political operatives.
It was a lustful stare, she decided, and she was going to ignore it, just like she ignored her own subconscious. Because she had no hope in hell that she’d end up any different than the others who had come before her.
Eventually it would all go away. Maybe not that day, or that week, but eventually.
The days wouldn’t be to bad; they would be filled with work. The nights would be harder, as, for the sake of argument, would any other impromptu naps she took in the workplace.
Thank goodness she didn’t talk in her sleep.
THE END