Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance (19 page)

A
nother New York event
, another reason to dress up. London waited in the lobby of the hotel where the mayor’s 60th birthday was to be held. This time her dress wasn’t quite as daring, or leaving her suffering quite so much in the net worth department. Her hair was done up in another chignon with a gold comb that matched the gold drop earrings dangling from her lobes and gold bangles on her wrists. She had on a simple, black, figure-skimming, floor-length dress. The front was a sleeveless, halter style. The back was the most eye-catching, with a bow-embellished, cutout behind the arm straps, that dipped not
quite
as far as the blue dress she had worn to the gala at the Botanical Gardens had. All the same, the bare back, combined with the slit that reached mid-thigh, was enough to draw attention.

She wasn’t sure if her father would be pleased or not. Richard Wright had officially announced his run for mayor this past Wednesday, throwing his hat in with the Republican side of the election, as expected. Amazingly enough, he had shot right to the top of the polls. The common folk seemed to love his complete and utter lack of political sophistication.

He no doubt would be making an appearance tonight. This meant he’d also have his attention-drawing current Mrs. Wright on his arm. London wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen the woman in anything that didn’t reveal just a
little
too much of one of her many assets.

London sat with Representative Davis and his lovely wife, who was dressed in a purple, cap-sleeved, beaded dress that draped to the floor in pleated taffeta. Mrs. Davis was nearing 50, but still managed to keep somewhat in shape, and the dress tucked and highlighted her in all the right places.

“My, what an…
eye-catching
dress,” Mrs. Davis exclaimed as the couple had come up to greet London.

“Thank you,” London replied, ignoring the subtle hint of disapproval in her voice.

“Yes, that dress definitely works on you,” Dion Davis said, reaching his head around to admire the back. “With the two most beautiful ladies in New York on my arm, how can I lose this election?”

He held out one arm for his wife and the other for London. She took it with an awkward glance at his wife. London
was
there specifically to represent Dion Davis and the firm after all. Best to do her part.

Once inside she tailed them, sipping champagne as they made the rounds. She had to give it to the couple. Representative Davis could schmooze with the best of them. He certainly gave her father a run for his money in that department, charming and joking his way into the good graces of every person in the room. No wonder he was, as yet, unopposed as the Democratic candidate. His wife played the smiling, adoring, flattering yin to his yang. London was just the wallpaper, or eye candy, depending on who they were with. Eventually she made her excuses, seemingly to the relief of Mrs. Davis, and wandered around the room on her own.

After grabbing another champagne, she stood by the bar to people watch.

“You know, you’re driving every man in the room crazy with that back of yours.”

She spun around at the voice and was surprised to see Michael standing there, looking debonair as ever in his tuxedo. She took a moment to overcome her breathlessness. Even though they had spent every night this week indulging in their secret tryst in room 1247 of the Roosevelt Hotel, she still got a thrill out of seeing him—especially in the unusual state of actually being clothed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around anxiously to see if anyone noticed the intimate nature of their interaction.

“A little birdie told me that the most beautiful woman in New York would be attending, so I had to come.”

She smiled at the flattery, then taking another daring look around, responded in kind. “Well, if I’d known the most handsome man in New York would be here,” she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I wouldn’t have worn underwear.”

With that she took her champagne and wandered back to the Davises to continue her duty as representative. She gave him a warning look as she left, telling him to keep his distance. He smirked at her from across the room as he was approached by a young blonde woman, forcing London to keep one eye glued in his direction. It served her right, she supposed.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time mingling (but then that was really the point of these things wasn’t it?), they were all finally seated to dinner. London sat dutifully on one side of Dion Davis, his wife on the other. From her table, she had a clear vantage point of Michael across the room, who was sitting with the elder Wright and his much younger, current wife. So that was how he scored a ticket. Both of them appeared to be catering to their father’s ambition, London out of obligation, Michael as a means to an end. London smiled to herself, knowing she was that particular end.

It was during the mayor’s speech that inspiration hit London. She excused herself from the table, knowing very few people would have the gall to do the same. Even the Davises gave her a perturbed look. At that moment she didn’t particularly care. Her ambitions lay elsewhere.

She caught Michael’s eye as she gradually made her way to the door. Once in the empty foyer she walked slowly down the hall in her strappy black heels, waiting to hear the door open and close behind her. When she heard the tell-tale sounds of it, she increased her pace until she was around the corner. She waited until she saw him round the corner as well, then she made her way into the nearest smaller conference room.

She stood in the half-lit room with her back facing him. Inside was a series of tables set up in a U shape facing a podium on a short stage.

“So, I’m driving you crazy am I?” she purred, making her way to the stage. “What exactly are you planning on doing about it Mr. Wright?”

“Hmm,” she heard his voice say, trailing her to the front of the room. “Well for starters, I guess I could help you with your
faux pas
of wearing panties. Though from my vantage point I don’t see how that’s even possible.”

She laughed. “This dress is what thongs were made for.”

London made her way up the stage and to the podium. She stood behind it, looking down at Michael. With one eyebrow raised, she addressed him. “So are you going to just stand there or do something about it? The mayor’s speech isn’t going to last all night. People will start to notice our absence.”

He rushed to the stage, jumping up onto it with one, long-legged leap. He came up behind her and she leaned back into his embrace. He smelled and felt so good, she closed her eyes to take in his scent. The danger of what they were about to do already had her wet with anticipation.

He bent her forward and she placed her hands over the top of the podium. His finger slid down her bare back making her body shudder and flinch. She felt his lips kiss the line it made until he reached the edge of the dress. From there, his fingers continued down, fingering the line between her cheeks where the thong was hidden underneath the dress.

He grabbed the fabric of her gown with both hands, collecting it up the sides of her hips until first her legs, then thighs, then bare ass was exposed. She leaned over to an almost 90 degree angle so he could pile the fabric securely at the small of her back, leaving her standing there in nothing but a pair of heels and thong panties below the waist.

“Nice,” he purred, giving her a slap on the ass.

She yelped in surprise, but stood her ground, biting her lip in anticipation of another.

“I love watching that ass of yours shake,” he said, slapping her again, harder this time.

Michael kept the hand there, rubbing the bare, smooth skin. He worked his way closer to the line where the tiny strip of lace was hidden. She felt a finger slide underneath the cotton crotch at the center.

“Hmm, somebody enjoys getting her ass spanked,” he said, fingering her dripping wetness.

“I love getting fucked even more,” she hinted.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “How about both?”

With that he grabbed the panties and ripped them down her legs. She stepped out of them accommodatingly and arched her back waiting for him to take her. At some point this week they had moved beyond the condom stage, her being on the pill, and each assuring one another that they were STD free.

Thus there was only a moment for him to unleash his erection before she felt the tip of his cock pressing against her opening. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back, impaling her on his throbbing dick.

“Michael,” she moaned, embracing the familiar, but still so stimulating invasion.

She closed her eyes and steadied herself on the podium while he did the work of sliding in and out of her, sighing her name over and over as he increased his momentum.

“How are you going to feel having my cum dripping down those gorgeous legs of yours all night, London?” he growled behind her.

“Like a dirty little whore,” she moaned in response, knowing it would turn him on.

“Yeah?” he said, getting into it. “Every VIP in New York is going to see it all over your face, and smell me on you. London Jefferson, the dirty little slut who got fucked at the mayor’s birthday party.”

The thought of it was driving her wild. “Yeah, make sure you come good and hard. Mark your territory, make me your bitch.”

This was the filthiest she had ever been with someone and it was making her come even harder than Michael’s well-endowed dick was, as it pumped away inside of her.

“I’ll make you my bitch all right.” He said, slapping her ass again. “You’ll feel it inside you all night long. It’ll be dripping on the mayor’s shoes while you dance with him. Then he’ll know you belong to me.”

It was enough to push her over the edge and she squeezed tight around his shaft, stiffening as the orgasmic waves crashed through her body. She stifled the scream that wanted to escape, still somewhat cognizant of the fact that this was a taboo situation.

The next moment, Michael made good on his promise, filling her so hard that she felt it dribbling out of her before he even finished. He too held in his voice, giving a stifled groan as he let loose. Once he was done, he bent over to press himself into her back, recovering. Finally he pulled himself off of her and out of her.

She turned around to face him with a grin. “Such a filthy mouth on you.”

“I could say the same for you, London,” he smirked in response.

She gave a soft laugh. “Well, as much as I relish the idea of, um, ‘dripping on the mayor’s shoes,’ I would rather not leave a wet spot on my dress, so if you could kindly help me back into my undies, it would be much appreciated.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said bending down to place the thong underwear at her heels. She stepped into them and he slid them up her hips at a leisurely pace, admiring the view on the way up.

She stared down at him with a wicked smile. “You never miss an opportunity do y—”

She was interrupted as she heard the door handles being turned. Instinctively she fell down to the floor beside him, scooting into the opening of the podium, pulling him close behind her so they were both hidden as much as possible. The
thought
of getting caught was exciting.
Actually
getting caught was most certainly not.

In the semi darkness they stared at each other wide-eyed as they heard two voices.

“
Y
ou hear something
?”

“Stop being so paranoid. Everyone is listening to that idiot drone on. Just get to the point already.”

Michael saw London staring at him with anxious amusement at their little predicament. Obviously the intruding duo were guests of the same party they were attending. All the more reason to stay hidden.

“Alright. I’ve got something that’s going to put the kibosh on that little scandal you somehow uncovered about the next mayor,” said the first man.

Michael’s ears perked up and he looked at London in surprise. Her expression was just as stunned. Right now, there were exactly two leading candidates who could legitimately be described at this point as “the next mayor”: his father and Representative Davis.

The second man laughed. “Next mayor? Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself. The guy is at best an idiot who has no idea what his team is up to and at worst a crook. But by all means, enlighten me as to why I shouldn’t rat his ass out today.”

“How about these?”

There was silence while the second man was “enlightened.” One minute later he spoke up. “Jesus H. Christ, where’d you get these?” he asked in a shocked tone.

“Never mind where,” the first man said. “The fact is, they exist.”

“You’re honestly going to compare
this
to what your guy did? Helping out his, already filthy stinkin’ rich pals, by covering their asses as they stole money from the Summer Lunch Program. All because they got to greedy investing with Siverion?”

“Allegedly.”
The first man said.

“Allegedly my ass!” spat the second man. “Your guy is a crook and you know it. There’s no comparison here.”

“We can always put it out there and let the public decide,” laughed the first man.

“For Pete’s sake, the guy has kids. You really want them exposed to this? Imagine what they’ll have to face at school?”

“Perhaps their father should have thought about that when he did….whatever the hell is going on in those photos,” the second man said, disgust in his voice. “At any rate, now we both have something to lose…or gain, take your pick. I’m going to call it a wash. Never underestimate the prudishness of the American public.”

“Whatever, man. You know the truth is bound to come out, don’t you?”

“That goes for both of us,” said the second man. “As long as it doesn’t come out until after the election. As it is, may the best man win. Deal?”

After a pause the first man sighed. “Deal.”

Michael heard the door open and close. The two waited a beat before he shifted out of position and stood up, reaching a hand down to help London up.

They both stood there looking at each other, processing what they had just heard.

“Do you have any idea what they were talking about?” she asked him.

“None,” he confessed. He was still trying to figure out whether his father was a “crook” or…something just as bad.

“Are you sure?” he saw her giving him a penetrating look.

“Jesus, London!” he cried, realizing she was pumping him for information. “Are you really concerned about your fucking candidate? This is my father we’re talking about here.”

She blinked and flinched back a little. “I—I didn’t mean it like that,” she stammered. “I just—”

“You just what?” he asked, angrily. “Wanted to cover all your bases? Get a handle on things? Give your candidate and edge? Even if it means my family is ruined?”

“Hey,” she said, getting angry as well. “It’s not as though my family doesn’t have a stake here as well. We’ve thrown all our eggs in this one stupid basket. If Davis goes down for stealing money from children or, I don’t know, something worse? We’re royally fucked.”

“You’re really worried about your career right now?” he asked with disbelief. “I’ve got two little brothers who could be damaged by this. And you think
my
career won’t suffer by association? Heck,
you
don’t even want to be seen in public with me because of who my father is, no matter how much I try to distance myself from him.”

“I noticed you had no problem sitting next to him tonight.” she spat back.

“I came to see
you!
” he yelled.

“Well, you got your little fuck in,” she snapped. “It’s what you came for, right Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Marriage?”

Where the hell had that come from?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he yelled.

“It means, I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. We’re both just in this for a good time, right?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t want it made public.”

“And you’re the one who doesn’t want to settle down.”

“That’s a huge leap, London. Maybe we should actually get past the stage where it’s okay to hold hands in public first,” he said sarcastically.

“Well it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Enjoy the rest of the night. I guess we both have some damage control to take care of. First I have to make a trip to the ladies room. I feel a bit dirty all of a sudden.”

With that she turned and stormed out of the room ahead of him. By now he had far too many things to process to try and stop her. What the hell was going on with his father? What the hell was going on with Representative Davis?

Most importantly, what the hell was going on with London?

* * *

H
e made
his way back to the banquet hall. The mayor had finished his speech and the dancing was just about to start.

He searched her out and found her sitting by the Davises staring straight ahead. He knew better than to approach her but hoped to at least make eye contact. After a few tries, he could see it wasn’t going to happen.

Giving up, he decided to focus on his father, sitting right next to him. Ever since wife #2, Michael had always had a strained relationship with Richard. He watched him as he joked with the man sitting on the other side of Svetlana, no doubt indulging in one of his usual off-color jokes.

Had his father helped swindle a bunch of children in order to help his rich friends?

Michael was vaguely aware of the minor crisis that had hit the Summer Lunch Program years ago. It was discovered that the charity had, for some stupid reason, invested all of its funds in Siverion. Then the mutual fund company had gone under, supposedly due to embezzlement, but there was talk that it was simply a cover up. Either way, there was a public outcry about oversight as to where charitable funds managed by the government were being invested. It blew away with the wind of the next big scandal a few weeks later. Had his own father been responsible for that?

Michael wasn’t particularly fond of the man, but he had a hard time picturing him as a crook. On the other hand, he did have a lot of wealthy friends and, as the saying went, one hand washes the other. You don’t get to be one of the richest men in New York without playing a little dirty.

Then, there were his proclivities when it came to women. If he wasn’t a crook, it had to be something that would embarrass the entire family. In Richard Wright’s case, that was a fairly high bar. He’d had multiple affairs, which by this point had become pretty much a running joke. What could be worse than that?

Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know.