Scandal
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Scandal free porn video
“Yes Nina,” I nod across the multitude of voices, microphones and cameras thrust in my direction.
The final question section at the end of any Oval Office briefing were always a law unto themselves. Imagine a wild pack of animals clambering for the merest scrap of food and you will have a pretty good picture as every journalist and broadcaster fought to get their question aired.
“Doesn’t this latest scandal point to an Administration embroiled in turmoil and disarray?” Came the question from the floor.
Again, the throng of press packed into the briefing room bayed for a response. Foreign policy, international trade disputes and home turf politics put aside for the grainy images that the adorned the front pages of the Post in the days earlier.
“Not for the first time today, this Administration denies any such allegations. Those images are speculative to say the least and I echo the earlier statements from the President where we hope journalism gets its head out of the gutter and focuses on the real matter to hand,” I respond swiftly and firmly.
Not willing to get drawn into this further I cut short the questions, thanking them for their time before leaving the stage to a flash of camera lights and a wave of unanswered noise.
I hurriedly stomp back to my office. My new intern barely keeping pace as I thrust her my papers before closing the door on her.
It had been a hell of a last 48 hours and my feet had barely touched the floor. My office a brief sanctuary to gather my thoughts and take stock of situations, that these days seem to come rather relentlessly.
Thankfully, my calendar was much clearer baring another catastrophe, yet, in this role you never knew what car crash was waiting around the next corner.
Unsurprisingly, and if on que, my thoughts were soon broken by the cackle of the intercom.
"I know you don’t want to be disturbed Sir,” came the slightly nervous interns voice, her first month a true baptism of fire. “But I have Nina Rothman, from the Washington Post and she is very insistent,” she continues.
I smirk. Oh, I bet she is very I insistent, knowing the tenacity of the young Miss Rothman.
"Send her in," I respond.
Leaning back in my leather-bound chair, the office door opens and the sound of heels echo against the marble floor, accompanying the aforementioned Miss Rothman into my office.
Head held high with a purposefully stride, her dark tresses bounce softly upon her shoulders. In a crisp white shirt and pencil skirt, accentuating a perfect hourglass figure, she could easily be mistaken for one of the young, power hungry seekers, who lurked within this Administration. Only her green press card hung around her neck gave her away.
Smiling, she waits for the door to click shut behind her before saying a word. Time, she knew full well for my eyes to enjoy her sultry silhouette. Time for me to also see not a hint of remorse for the scandal her article had caused despite the whirlwind that had ensued.
"I thought you’d have rescinded my access," she smirks with a smile of her glossed lips.
"Oh, trust me, it was! I had to do a lot of persuading not to have you, and the Post, barred altogether," I answer.
My fingers play with my pen, flicking it in a repetitive circle. Nightmares of fraught discussions over the preceding hours still etched firmly in my mind. "If it wasn't for the fact such actions would only be seen to add fuel to the fire," I continue.
“No smoke without fire,” she hints suggestively.
“Well, your article definitely did that,” I retort.
And that was putting it lightly. The explosive accusations had caused a raucous the likes I has not seen for several years. The Administration and Office had been on edge ever since the grainy still images that adorned the front page and commandeered every news-stand in the city.
No one could deny there was a resemblance of her. The look of pleasure as in the throes of passion with an unknown lover, a million miles away from that of her husband. The suggestion of a member of the security team mildly plausible yet equally ludicrous at the same time.
Rebuffed externally, internally the walls to the Oval Office had shook with anger. Meetings with Security Chiefs ensued with many a coincidence that could allow dots to be joined if you wanted to believe. But it was not long before the Press Office took the brunt of the anger.
"An Administration fuelled by lust and illicit sex?" I question with a raise of an eyebrow. Reference to one of the many claims written within the features that followed the headline story.
"Cute intern,” she smiles with a hint of playfulness. A hand resting on the dip of her waist, her eyes holding my gaze knowingly.
Deciding not to take her bait, I simply smile.
Sassy and forthright she eluded a confidence that was both alluring and intoxicating. Fresh to scene, despite her youthful persona, she had not been afraid to ruffle the feathers of the old brigade. The signs had been there for a while, a series of edgy column inches to test boundaries, yet this article was another level. She had gone for the jugular. Ambitious or fool-hardy it was too early to tell.
“So, what can I do for you Miss Rothman?” I question.
“Well it seems I owe you a thank you, seeing as the Post and I aren’t barred altogether,” she begins glancing her eyes from mine. “And, well,” she continues as they return to mine.
Stepping forward she begins to walk around the desk, tracing a manicured finger against the dark oak desk, her heels echoing with every forthright step.
“So, my source tells me it was a member of the security staff?” She questions.
“Your source?” I answer with a wry smile as I wheel my office chair back allowing her room in between. “The one who slipped those images into your inbox and caused me this world of pain?” I question ironically.
“Yeah, him,” she answers as she idles her way around the desk with a sway of her hips. Watching her intently, she slowly comes to a halt in front of me, leaning back against the imposing desk.
“Makes sense really,” she continues, as her eyes continue to hold my gaze. Her white blouse tight enough to tease sight of the lace beneath that encases her pert, sculpted breasts. Tucked into her pencil skirt, only emphasising the dip of her waist and shapely rise of her hips. Dark nylon legs combined with matching dark heels to accentuate toned calves.
“Stood around all day, those little earpieces stuck in their ear,” she continues, a coy smile etched upon her glossed lips, knowing full well my eyes are upon her.
Now close enough that I catch the aroma of her perfume and see her subtle make up that compliments her natural, youthful beauty.
“A gorgeous woman continually in their presence,” as she moves her hand to her blouse. An action to make me gulp as her manicured fingers begin to playfully tease with the first button.
Her eyes smoulder as she holds my gaze intently. Her glossed lips smile tempting as perched against my desk, she looks down upon me, as if offering me the chance to intervene and stop this charade yet I remain silent.
"I imagine minds wander with all that standing about,” as her manicured nails pop the first button of her blouse free.
“All those dinners and banquets, her dressed up so beautifully,” as another button comes undone, her blouse loosening with each button, exposing her shoulders and the strap of her bra.
All the time her gaze not moving from mine.
“Always watching her,” she continues with a pout, slowly and devilishly sensually captivating me. I can’t hide my growing smile as perched against my desk, she slowly undresses.
Always in control, this is solely on her terms. Our positions and roles irrelevant.
“I don’t know him I’m afraid,” I answer, watching her attentively. Feeling the growing hunger within as she toys with me.
“Shame as I’d love to have him off the record,” she teases as another button causes her blouse to sensually slip from her shoulders, fully exposing the intricate lace that cups her breasts. Her play on words deliberate and yet dangerously enticing.
My eyes feast on her body as she reaches behind to unfasten her bra that soon joins her blouse discarded on the floor.
Her breasts so perfect. So pert and sculpted as she begins to cup and caress before me. Thumbs lightly tease her nipples that begin to pebble under her hypnotic touch.
Her body gorgeous. Skin sun kissed and curves in all the right places. The head of a rose inked upon her skin just evident just above her hip, disappearing beyond the top of her skirt.
“I can imagine how they’d get turned on. And let’s be honest, I’m sure she’d enjoy the attention,” she whispers more huskily with an ever-naughtier smile.
“I can’t possibly comment,” I answer unable to completely hide the curl of my lips. She giggles as she turns around from me. “Oh, the perfect politician’s response,” she teases. Her fingers caress her curvaceous behind as she finds the delicate zipper of the pencil skirt.
“Look at the wild pleasure she’s having,” she whispers before the sound of the zipper cuts through the air. The playful wriggle of her hips, enough for her skirt to loosen from her hips but needed a little tug of her hands to slip over her pert bottom before falling in a crumpled heap at her heeled feet.
Before me, my eyes feast on her. The intricate lace tops of her stockings cling against her toned and bronzed thighs. Matching lace upon the rise of her hips that disappears between the cheeks of her pert derriere.
Leaning forward across my desk, her head turns back so our eyes meet once again. Her eyes smoulder as the office simmers to the explicit sexual tension.
“But the thing is much as I like the idea, I’ve got another theory,” she purrs, deliberately letting her words hang in the air.
“How come that doesn’t surprise me?” I answer finding the words that spill from my lips deep and gravelly. Hunger consuming my veins as she saunters into my office and with a sheer audacity uses her gorgeous body to get what she wants.
“Maybe we both know a little more than we’ve let on,” she answers as her fingers reach between her thighs, peeling the lace aside to expose her perfectly smooth pussy.
My eyes feast on her bent over my desk, her dark heels and perfect stocking clad legs, her manicured fingers parting her pussy lips to expose her glistening velvety heaven.
“There is only one man here,” she gasps audibly, her sentence unfinished yet failing off as she curls a finger inside her. A soft moan escapes her lips, her head lolling forward, lost to her pleasure as she slips her finger inside her glistening sex.
“There is only one man here who knows how to treat a lady like that,” she gasps into the desk. Her fingers slipping slowly back and forth, sinking inside her evident wetness.
My heart thunders in my chest as my breath quickens. The aural seduction combined with the scent of her essence, has my arousal straining deep in my suit pants as she brazenly fingers herself over my desk.
Her breathing and soft moans more evident as with a flick of her hair she lifts her head, tilting her gaze back to mine. Lips parted, her look of want, erotic and suggestive. Act or not, I could not tell, yet either way she was dangerously tempting.
“And he doesn’t work in security,” she purrs. Words to make me growl as the temptation becomes too much. Rising from my leather chair, hands reach for my suit pants.
Her hand reaches for the intercom. A cackle and then a response, “Yes Sir” came the intern’s voice. Before I can say anything, she takes charge. “You’ll need to cancel his meetings sweetie,” she purrs, any attempt of subtly discarded in her heavy breaths. “He’s agreed to give me an exclusive,” her words hanging in the air, as she bits her lip, grinding her cute behind against my crotch.
“Sir,” came the uncertainty in the cackling intercom. “You’re due to be meeting the foreign minister in 30 minutes and then a policy briefing after that.”
“Cancel them,” I answer as my hands trace the curve of her cute behind bent so inviting over my desk, watching as she smiles back at me, playfully wriggling against me.
“Miss Rothman is explaining details of recent events, so no disruptions” I continue, enjoying the delight sparkle in her eyes as my words compliment my hands that explore her silky-smooth skin.
“Ok Sir,” cackled the intercom before disappearing, replaced by the soft moan as my hand slips between her thighs, fingers gliding against her wetness.
The office now ours once more, her head tilts back. Smouldering eyes finding mine as she pouts pleadingly, between more rasping breaths.
“Fuck me, like you fucked her,” she whimpers, pushing herself back against me…
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