Special Assistant.
Part 10
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
Kevin became a friend. His connections were in the day to day life of Washington. This was an entirely different world from that of the upper tiers of the administration. He told me he'd check out the bottom feeders and see if any of them knew Randall.
He called me a few days later. "Nobody, no where, no how knows Randall," he said. "I did turn up something that might relate to your friend."
"What is that?"
"There's a trick hookers call the Fat Guy. They describe him as a baby-faced man who like rough trade, military types," Kevin said. "He likes to get drunk and then get fucked after he gets pissed on."
"Why do you think it relates to Randall?"
"Well, when the guy got really drunk, he told his trick he was the President of the United States," Kevin replied. "The trick, Bubba Davis, told him he was full of shit. Bubba's a sophisticate. Well, the guy told him he was the real president. They fought over it, then Bubba made him drink his piss. Bubba said the Fat Guy liked that. Bubba said the man told him his name was Martin Stevens. Bubba noticed the man's wallet was monogrammed SM."
"My God, do you think it's Steven Martineau, Darth Vader?"
"The description is right," Kevin replied.
"What does Bubba look like?"
"He has a shaved head, is a body builder and is aggressively macho." Kevin replied. "He was a freelancer when he met Martin Stevens. He ran into some bad luck and slipped off the "A" list, but he was a good-looking guy. He was an all American type when things were good."
"Drugs?"
"Yep, he was the self confident type. He thought he could take them and not get hooked," Kevin said. "When you're into what he was into, you can turn from a pisser into a pissee. Water sports and kink can be a harsh mistress."
"You think Steven Martineau is Randall's patron?" I asked. Martineau was known as Darth Vader by those who like him. Those who didn't like him were less flattering. He was known for his no-holes-barred election strategy. No lie, no slander, no misrepresentation was too far fetched for him not to use. He was best known for creating "independent" attack groups who could spread his slanders while maintaining plausible separation from the President.
I had never met him, but he was a god to some of the political types in the White House. If you were a believer in the win at any cost school of politics, Steve was your man. Rolf hated him. "Mr. Martineau knows how to win battles. He doesn't know how to win a war," Rolf claimed.
"He got the President elected," I retorted.
"Nixon won a second term too. It was a real landslide though, not a 2 percent win," Rolf explained. Rolf used his more to be pitied than censured tone of voice. "Nixon realized polarizing the nation could give him a victory. Nixon discovered he just couldn't rule the nation with it turned into two camps, one of which hated his guts."
"Watergate brought him down," I said.
"Watergate is child's play compared with what's going on now," Rolf said. "Nixon was fundamentally right about it. Watergate was a second rate burglary. Billions are missing in Iraq. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the billions vanishing in the Pentagon. Throw in a few hundred sweet heart deals for your closest and dearest friends and the total must be astounding."
"Why isn't anyone exposing the scandals?" I asked.
"My fear is a straw will break the camel's back and the administration will fall like a stack of cards," Rolf said.
"If it's that corrupt that may be best."
"If the world were a perfect place, I would agree with you, but I'm worried," Rolf said. "We aren't talking about petty crimes. The sums involved are in the billions. Perjury, treason, embezzlement, perhaps war crimes are involved. We're talking serious jail time. Cornered rats are dangerous."
"You don't really think treason is a problem, do you?"
"Yes I do. There are two problems. One is Israel. There are many high-ranking government officials who have been in the employ of Israel at one time or another. While Israel is a friend, its interests are not identical to our own," Rolf explained. "Iran is the other problem. Some of our "friends" in the Middle East may be Iranian agents. State secrets are not to be divulged to anyone, friends or enemies. State secrets are just that. Lose lips sink ships, and our ship of state looks leaky. By hook or crook we have destroyed Iran's foremost opponents, the Taliban and Iraq. If you were to devise a policy to strengthen Iran's position in the Middle East, you couldn't do better than we have done."
"When you look at recent scandals, you start with Watergate. In Watergate the Attorney general was implicated and went to jail. State and Defense were untouched. In Iran-Contra the CIA and Defense were involved, but the major players were in a shadow government at the White House. It didn't reach into the departments." Rolf said. "As I see it now, the President, Vice President, Secretary of Defense and his staff, the Attorney General, homeland security, the CIA and the FBI are all involved. If the house of cards collapses, who will be the president?"
"The Treasury Secretary? President Pro-Tem of the Senate?"
"The Speaker of the House, but the leadership of the house is so corrupt, it's hard to know who will be left after the bloodbath. It's a frightening proposition," Rolf said quietly. "Once men and women made up the cabinet. Most now are old friends of the President or proven incompetents."
We went back to work. I thought Rolf overstated the problems. After I thought about his fears for a few hours, I began to realize he might be right. Marty, Rolf, Bernard or Admiral Billy were naturally political allies of the President. They were conservative and conventional men, with a slight tendency to be libertarian in a moral sense.
Not one of them was happy. I was born after Watergate so I had no idea what was like when a President's administration fell apart. I had little knowledge of the history of that period. That night I wandered into a used book store and bought a copy of All the President's Men. The shop clerk, a wild looking bearded man named Watson, knew all about Watergate. He looked like a wild man, but turned out to be a Civil War reinactor. Watson was also a flaming liberal. He hated the President and everything the President stood for. In his view every action of the President was pure political calculation. I should have been insulted, but Watson had a sense of humor as which was as wild and unconventional as his beard. It was near closing time and several of Watson's friends appeared. I had fallen into a den of unrepentant liberals.
It was as if I was back in a college bull session at the dorm. There was one difference. These guys were both a lot smarter and a lot funnier than any of my college friends. Watson closed the shop and we went to Watson's apartment to continue the conversation.
Watson's apartment was a book lover's delight. It was an entire floor of a large town house and was well furnished, very well furnished. His friends were mismatched. Brandon was a dapper and rather elegant State Department protocol officer. Leonard looked like a football player, but worked in the National Park Service as a planner.
Brandon had stories about what he called the "Hooterville Mafia." Brandon complained, "It's one thing to be yourself, it's another to be an insensitive asshole. Some don't understand that. Some are proud of their ignorance." Brandon and the President shared the same educational background, but Brandon spoke three languages fluently and was proud of his knowledge of world affairs.
Leonard was an environmentalist and was interested in protecting wild areas. Both he and Brandon were waging guerilla war within the administration, trying to save what they could. I had been accustomed to the "us verses them" attitude in the White House and the good natured, but serious tone of these men was a pleasant surprise to me.
At some point in the conversation I realize all three men were gay. I also began to get interested in Watson. In spite of his eccentric looks, he was easy going and had an unforced sense of humor I liked. He had a way of making his points without being too aggressive. I think he looked at the world in a different way, and his comments made you look at things with a fresh eye.
Somehow I bumped into him and he didn't seem to mind. When Brandon and Leonard left, Watson told me I could stay if I wanted.
"This has been a great conversation, but I've got to get home," I said. "I'm worn out from all the talk."
"To tell you the truth, I wasn't thinking about conversation," Watson replied. I looked him in the eye and knew exactly what he was thinking. It was what I was thinking too. "Let me show you to my bedroom," he said.
"I hardly know you," I said.
He smiled. "I not asking to marry you, I was hoping to suck your cock," he said.
"That certainly sounds fair enough," I replied.
We both laughed as I followed him into the bedroom. "I need to shower," Watson said. "I'm covered with the dust of ages." We both stripped and went to his bathroom. Watson's shaggy beard merged with the hair on his chest. The beard was dark, but his body hair was reddish brown.
He stared at my cock. "It's pretty," he said. "I hope you don't mind playing with Chewbacca." Watson wore baggy clothes, mostly tweedy and professorial looking. Naked he was well built, not stocky as I had thought. We got under the water and cleaned off. He slipped to the floor and began to suck me.
After three or four minutes he got up. "I hope I don't offend you, but I love cocks," he said. "I know you're supposed to be into relationships and the whole person, but I like cocks."
I laughed, as I felt his cock. It hadn't been impressive soft, but it had grown. "I've got no problem with that. It's wonderful that our reproductive organ is also a toy."
"That's the way I see it," Watson said. "It still amazes me how exciting it is when another man plays with it. When I was a teenager, I must have been the jerk off king of Manhattan, but your touch is more exciting than anything I could do myself."
"I bet you say that to everyman you meet," I said.
"Damn right, and it's true each time! Let' get into bed." We dried off and jumped into his bed. Watson was a master sucker and we were a perfect fit. After I while I asked if he would like to fuck me.
"I'm not good at that. I don't know why, but I lose my erection," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Not a problem," I said.
He smiled. "From the tone of your voice, I can tell you're not being frank. Brandon's a top. He lives in the next block. He can come over."
"He's in bed by now," I said.
"Don't worry about that. Brandon's the Energizer Bunny. He's always ready, willing and able. We aren't lovers but we play together." Watson relied as he reached for the phone. It couldn't have been more than five minutes before Brandon and Leonard were at the door.
"I hope you don't mind if I brought another top along," the State Department official said. They came to the bedroom, stripped and jumped into bed.
"You're a life saver," Leonard said. "Brandon and I are both tops. It was going to be like a dinner without desert." Leonard was blond and had a goatee. His body was that of a tackle, but had somewhat gone to pot. His cock was uncut and looked like a fire plug. Brandon was groomed and elegant, like a 1930s statuette. His cock was pure caveman, thick and gnarly.
"I hope you don't mind if I skip the preliminaries and get down to business," Brandon said as he coated his cock with lubricant. Leonard cuddled up to me and began to kiss me as Brandon lifted my legs.
Brandon's cock eased its way into my ass as Leonard's tongue headed for my tonsils. Both the cock and the tongue were longer than I expected and for a moment it seemed as if they might meet.
"Damn, that's hot looking," Watson said, as he bent over and started sucking my cock again. I got confused. It seemed as if feelings were coming at me from all directions. Separating sensations was hard. Brandon's cock wasn't fat, but it was long and seemed to have a bend in it. Whatever it did, it was hitting new places. His cock was rubbing my cock from the inside and Watson was rubbing it from the other. I was in heaven.
I had almost figured out who was doing what where, when Brandon and Leonard rotated. I sucked Watson while Brandon took care of my cock. Leonard's fat fire plug got me going again. He was a pile driver and popped my nut after a few minutes. Leonard shot off. I almost cried when I climaxed, but Watson filled my mouth with his cream. My orgasm set him off.
We rested briefly, then Brandon fucked me again and shot off. Brandon and Leonard went home and I just stayed on the bed, exhausted. Watson returned to the bed and got beside me. I was surprised when he began to rub his cock against my ass. I shifted to give him easier access. Two or three minutes later his cock was pumping in my ass.
We had both shot off already and were tired. This was more of an anal massage than intercourse. I may have been tired, but a half hour later I had a prize winning orgasm. I fell asleep with Watson slowly pumping his cock in my ass.
Watson cooked breakfast for me the next morning. I got to read the Post as he cooked. On page three was a photograph of the President, Steven Martineau and Randall in deep conversation. The caption said, "The President and his top advisors discuss the next move in the Middle East." In my wildest dreams, I never thought Randall would meet the President.