His third wife, Helen, she had been told, was away upstate at a charity function.
But there was something about him that DesirЋe instantly disliked. It had to do with his arrogance and total self-confidence, his almost overt contempt for his guests, and for the women in particular. She could see it in the tilt of his brows and the haughty flare of his nostrils as he dipped his head in acknowledgement of one of the women that seemed to know him, the wife of one of the men she had overheard talking about Mark during the before-dinner-drinks time. Quizzically, the husband noted her expression, the way her bosom heaved and her eyes fluttered. Yes, DesirЋe thought, there was much more going on here that met the eye.
Buchanan sat, shook out his cloth napkin with a sharp snap, and looked up. "Let's get to it, folks," he said tersely. "This is a thirteen-course meal. I hope you like good food."
Buchanan smiled broadly, but DesirЋe saw it as a Cheshire Cat, or perhaps sabre-tooth cat, smile. The man was dangerous and he frightened her. Anything that frightened Mark – and there was little doubt that Buchanan held her husband's future in his hands – filled DesirЋe with fear doubly, for no matter how Mark felt, or didn't feel, about her now, he was still her lord and protector and the only man she respected besides her own father.
Trying to shrug off her discomfort, she began nibbling at her starter. It was a delicious, dainty dish with prawns and she tried to enjoy it while she sensed Buchanan's eyes on her.
"I'm glad you could come tonight, Mark," Buchanan said. "It's always good to meet your most important associates at the beginning of your political career. And I assume this beautiful young woman is your wife, DesirЋe."
Mark smiled and nodded, glancing at her, so that she saw the warmth and light of love return to his eyes very briefly. Yes, she had made him proud. That was what she was here for. Now would he remember as well that she loved and adored him and could never think of ever hurting him intentionally, or unintentionally? Under the table, her hand stole over to his, and, finding it barely responsive, moved over to lightly brush across his flaccid penis. Mark snorted and jerked slightly.
Buchanan went on. "I hear she's a music teacher," he said, quaffing from a goblet of expensive rosЋ. "I would be delighted if she sang and played piano for us later on."
DesirЋe squirmed, but replied positively. "I'd love to, Mr. Buchanan." Singing and playing would have been easy in other company, but this whole crowd made her uneasy. If this was a political meeting, how could there be any interest in her music? But, of course, she knew that all these things went into breaking the ice, and that she had now been called on to do her part. She only hoped Mark could find it possible to break the ice surrounding his heart and return once again to the warmth of her arms. She was so aroused now, just sitting beside him. How she hoped she would be able to rekindle his natural desires again tonight so that he would make love to her! Yes, make love to her as he had before Lobo had invaded their bedroom and taken Mark's place within her soft and tender belly!
Mark saw her passive acquiescence to Buchanan's wishes and was glad that she had not decided to be arbitrary in her response. She was such a good girl, and supportive of him in every way. How could he have treated her so coldly these last few days? Lobo had not been her fault. Not at all. She could have made it difficult for him just now, but she had done her best to please Buchanan and left herself exposed in the process. Mark knew that she would be naturally diffident in the company of these people with whom she shared so little.
Dinner went uneventfully, except that DesirЋe seemed to be receiving more of Buchanan's attention than she really wanted, and making the other women envious in the process. But the food was marvellous, some of the best French cuisine she had ever had, and that at least to some extent disarmed her. Over dessert and after a steady diet of political talk that the intelligent and unaffected DesirЋe found faintly idiotic, she felt Buchanan's words particularly directed at her, though nominally they were meant for Mark and the other men at the table.
"It's always important for a politician to know where his power and money are coming from, and who has to be ultimately pleased. That's why these little get-togethers are important."
DesirЋe looked up and found the man's eyes on her, and her mouth moved before she could muster the discretion to curb her tongue.
"I should think that the taxpayers and voters were the biggest contributors of power and money in any political process."
Mark shot her a mute, horrified look and she felt his leg muscles tense beneath his trousers where her hand rested.
Hearing nothing in reply from anyone, she went on to fill the silence. "I mean," she said, "that constituents contribute billions of dollars to the government and thousands and hundreds of thousands of votes to all politicians. How could anything be more important than that?"
And of course, Sid Buchanan could make no reasonable rebuttal to that. DesirЋe looked around the table slowly, saw the expressions of those convened, and felt a blush of terror and embarrassment sting her cheeks. She glanced fearfully back at Buchanan, whose eyes had hardened to stone.
"That's right," Buchanan said incisively. "You do have to answer to the constituents, but before you can do that, you've got to get elected, and that takes money, lots of it, because taxpayers don't finance campaigns. So, after you get elected, you spend the rest of your time in office trying to remember where you drew the line, the line between debt and duty. We're all here tonight to decide where that line should be."
DesirЋe sat quietly, feeling all eyes on her.
Clete Anderson felt the sweat running down the backs of his heavily-muscled thighs and increased the speed of his pumping arms. A hundred forty pounds on the bar, he curled it ten times from the front of his thighs to his solar plexus, flexing the massive biceps of his powerful, black arms. Clete liked to work out at the end of his shift, here in the back room of the police station he dominated. He worked out totally naked, rivulets of hot perspiration running from his forehead and neck to his toes, his huge black penis bobbing with his efforts.
Nancy was waiting for him, for his massive, hard cock. Their wedding was to take place in just a few weeks, but he had already made love to her many, many times. Yes, he knew that she had fucked Mark Denning in his Range Rover out by the quarry, but neither Nancy nor her politician paramour knew that Clete was aware of the infidelity. Of course, he had exacted his revenge and it would all come out in due time, when the black sheriff wanted his enemy, Mark Denning, to know that he had enjoyed his little DesirЋe's tight and tender pussy in a way only a man with a huge male-member like Clete's could.
And he fully intended to repeat the experience.
Clete looked down at the massive, gnurled, ten-inch penis that grew out of his groin like another leg. As he contemplated fucking DesirЋe again, he saw the powerful member begin to rise and he picked up the leather sling from the table. As the head broadened and deepened in color to a purplish ebony, he fitted the leather hood over the corona and tied a two-pound weight to the thongs it supported. Concentrating, he tightened his bunching-muscled buttocks and flexed the growing erection, lifting the small metal ring, flexing his cock so that it lifted the weight from the end of his formidable prick, his great, potent testicles drawing up, then slapping against his upper thighs as he let the weight drop, then flexing it again. He watched the veins pop into view, the erectile tissue swelling, straining the outer skin, the mushrooming glans expanding beyond the bounds of the leather hood covering it. He did ten repetitions, rested for thirty seconds, and did ten more.
Nancy had begun to notice the increase in his cock's girth. Removing the sling from the wide-flanged tip of his penis, Clete picked up the calipers, watching the pulse of his heartbeat in the taut bobbing of the end of the shaft. He used the calipers to span the diameter of his penis, then laid the instrument against a ruler. Seven centimeters, one and a half more than what he had given to DesirЋe last week. Two and three-quarter inch. Longer too, and the flanges of the knob were like the head of a king cobra. Nancy, still young and tight, had nonetheless become accustomed to his penile size, but now the exercise was expanding the blood vessels in a way that had made it grow awesomely.