Chapter 20: Bobby Triumphant

Bobby looked at the half naked woman who knelt in front of him. The petite, tan blonde sucked energetically on Stuart's cock, her ass bobbing in time with her mouth as she swallowed the chief of staff's impressive pole. Bobby reached forward and slid his finger under her thong panties. He found her cunt squishy and wet. The woman moaned and pressed her hips back, encouraging him to put his finger deep inside her.

Ignoring her silent request for the time being, Bobby pulled the thin material out of his way and took a good look at Ms. Felicia Thompson. Her nicely rounded ass cheeks showed no signs of sagging despite the fact that she was in her mid-30's and had led a less than comfortable life. Bobby teased her with his hand. Tracing his finger past her pouting labia, he gathered some of her oily wetness and smeared it around her tightly puckered asshole.

Felicia took Stuart's cock out her mouth. "I like it in my ass," she whispered hoarsely to Bobby before turning her attention to Stuart's hairy balls.

Bobby smiled and obliged her by sinking his index finger into her little brown rosette. He could tell that she had plenty of experience taking things into her backdoor by the way he slid inside her up to the first knuckle without any problem. She groaned appreciatively and pressed back against his hand, driving his finger deeper into her anus.

Bobby allowed himself to enjoy finger fucking her ass. He was delighted by the way her ass was like a little mouth, sucking his finger as he pulled it out in preparation for the next stroke. He added a second finger without difficulty, feeling her muscles squeeze and grasp his fingers as he penetrated her.

"Smart money would just have her killed," he thought. People like her, made desperate and rootless during the Troubles, were cheap. "But what did she know and whom had she told?"

=)0(=

Bobby's morning had started off so well. He had held his weekly staff meeting at his palatial Norfolk home. He had sat at the head of the table as each of his carefully selected team briefed him on their part of the plan to get him elected as one of Virginia's Senators in the coming Special Election. Every part of his plan had gone like clockwork to this point. The incumbent had died of an unexplained malady; Bobby had given his eulogy. Endorsements from all of the major political blocks had been received; payoffs, blackmail, and a few "accidents" had made sure of this. His bank accounts were well stocked. The list of people who owed him favors was full of people with the right sort of connections.

"Nothing stands in my way," he thought with a smile.

The meeting ended as Bobby congratulated each staff member for their work, reminding them all that they still had to actually win the election before the celebration could start. That had gotten a good laugh all around. They all knew that Bobby was a shoe-in for the election. The staff had all left in high spirits, sure that they were on their way to Washington with their boss.

After the team had left, Bobby sat back in his large leather chair and casually picked a cigar from the humidor on the table and rolled it around on his fingers. He was already looking forward to an afternoon on his boat with a couple willing playmates. Looking up, he had addressed his chief of staff.

"Well Stuart. What's on your mind? You look like an old woman who's just smelled cat piss."

Ignoring Bobby's jibe, the older man had tossed a manila folder across the table. "Stepped in dog shit is more like it," Stuart said. He ruffled through a sheaf of folders in front of him. "We got too many loose ends. To start with we still haven't found that bitch of Paris Mawbry's or those disks."

Bobby wasn't in the mood to hear bad news. He didn't open the folder. "Listen Stuart. There was so much shit going on after the Federal troops rolled into the Shore, so many people moving or missing. Shit, man. She could be dead for all we know."

"Or she could pop up in the middle of the election with a microphone in her face and ruin our day." Stuart had the bit between his teeth. "And if that weren't bad enough, now we got a reporter running around the Valley digging into the 'plight of the refugees'."

"Well that should be good news." Bobby lit the cigar and settled back in his chair, wreathed in a thick cloud of smoke.

Stuart ignored his boss. "Her name's Penelope Penman and she's been real interested in The Reverend Lot's Hostel." Stuart slid another folder across the table. "You remember the Reverend. He was one of our better donors in the early days. He also ran a little slave trading outfit up around Afton Mountain."

"There ain't nuthin' that would link that to us." Bobby's eyes narrowed. He was starting to see where Stuart was taking this conversation. "The Reverend died in a bandit attack. I seem to remember that we used that as an excuse to increase the police presence in the area. It was a big PR coup."

"That's what we all thought at the time." Stuart picked up the phone next to his chair. "Send her in." He hung up the phone and turned to the door. "Bobby, I'd like to introduce Ms. Felicia Thompson. She's got quite a story to tell."

Bobby didn't say anything for a moment. The petite blonde that stood at the end of the long conference table looked to be another lawyer. The only thing out of place was the worried look in her wide blue eyes.

"What did you have to tell us, Ms. Thompson?"

"A reporter came asked me what I knew about you and the Reverend Lot."

"So what did you tell her?" Bobby started to get impatient but remembered that Stuart never wasted time on trivial matters. This woman had to know something important.

Felicia licked her lips before looking up. "She wanted to know about the Farm."