Helen marched from the meeting with a resolute air of confidence even though her blood pressure was on dangerous overload and she had a sudden urge to pee even though she had just gone only 30 short minutes ago.
The American news releases had totally undermined her argument about easing up on fiscal responsibility. With the economy going belly-up Stateside and the continuing Greek debacle in danger of spreading across the European continent, her plea to make funds available for needed infrastructure was met with frosty silence by her very own cabinet members of own party.
As soon as she closed her private chambers door, she slammed her briefcase on the 300 year old desk and vented her anger.
"Bloody hell! What a fecking disaster. Those back-stabbing Chicago thugs could have at least waited till after I got my budget jammed through."
Her private secretary, Jason Goodnight was concerned that her explosive show of emotions would cause her some physical distress. He pressed a glass of plain lemon water on her and gave her a tiny aspirin to swallow. She tossed it down like it was a double shot of whiskey.
"That's what I really need - a good stiff drink", she thought to herself.
The need to relieve herself forced her to hand the glass to Jason and make a beeline to the private washroom. She did not bother to lock the door. This room was intended only for her own personal use and no one else would dare to enter it without permission.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The female that gazed back at her with an air of resignation was not unattractive. Perhaps a bit more subdued in a mid-forties kind of mature femininity. Her hair was silver but it looked very fashionable. Her tailored jacket accentuated the nice full curve of her slightly sagging breasts. Her waist was still presentable due to the daily workouts she accomplished with gritted teeth each and every morning. Her bum was a bit large due to sitting on it a good portion of the day but that was part of the job.
Helen pulled up her pleated skirt and then eased her half-slip down to her ankles. She didn't know why she still wore the bloody thing but her mum had always told her that no self-respecting woman would ever leave her house without wearing one. She looked in the mirror and was pleased with the view of her ample but nicely shaped ass cheeks. They still refused to droop much to her relief. She wondered how many years she had left before gravity began to change their perky presentation. The highest ranking female in the Empire was pleased she still had no need for a restrictive foundation garment even in her mid-forties. Her knickers seemed a bit out of place for her position. They were a gift from the French President. He was a total rogue who took great pleasure in bending over a different female each and every day. His appetite for seducing almost every strange female he met was infamous across the far corners of the world. She felt sorry for his lovely wife who suffered his adventures in silent support.
When he insisted she open his present in the safety of his inner chamber, she was at first offended and then amused and finally a bit excited at his dare for her to don them immediately. She did exactly that in the privacy of his small bathroom. The black lace with red bows contrasted nicely with her pale legs and curved ass cheeks. It was quite exciting to raise her skirt and display the lovely present to the sex-crazed leader.
Jean-Paul pushed Helen face down across the back of his Louis XIV sofa and played shamefully with her full ass cheeks before he showed her his impressive tool of French origin. Helen giggled expecting a possible expedition up her tight little rear channel as Frenchman are wont to do. But thankfully he addressed her well-trimmed pussy with his cock and slowly impaled her with a barrage of French dirty words. Words that she was all too familiar with from her days on the left-bank learning the French language and absorbing French culture usually delivered on the end of a long hard cock. She vibrated under his spirited instruction and shamefully groaned her obvious pleasure. She could not help but think that the French certainly have mastered the art of negotiation while the silly Americans are still setting up their power point demonstrations.
That memory brought a smile to Helen's face and made her feel a little more feminine and a whole lot sexier.
Just as Helen had positioned herself on her throne for a well-earned whiz, a timid knock on the door sent her blood pressure back up two notches.
"I am quite busy, thank you!"
The voice of Jason wafted apologetically through the solid wood door.
"Ever so sorry, minister, but there is an urgent communication for your eyes only!"
Helen sighed, the lengths she went to in her country's service was more than any woman could really take.
"Come in, dear boy and don't bring anyone in with you. I am in a delicate position here!"
Jason entered the private bath trying to avert his eyes from Helen's bare legs and bottom with very little success. She decided to tease the poor lad a wee bit and opened her legs to allow him a good view of her recently elected pussy.
The last time she could remember having a male in her bathroom with her was with her ex-husband, Terry Wainright. The thought of her ex-husband never failed to make her mad enough to spit.
Helen's ex-husband was hopping around Scottish castles with his California beach bunny, Tiffany Pokeright and he was no longer interested in perusal of her PM pussy. She was a bit interested to see Jason's reaction because she had heard the rumor that he was swinging for the other side in the battle of the sexes.
Helen took the sealed message and opened it as the sound of her tinkling made Jason's face turn a visible shade of red. The message was a "heads up" about some new dire news being released in Washington, D.C. in the late Friday afternoon dead zone hoping it would go unnoticed just before the weekend.
For some impish reason, she widened her legs considerably to pat herself dry and was pleased to see Jason gobbling up the view of his boss's well-trimmed pussy. She stood up and held his arm with one hand to balance herself as she pulled up the French knickers. Jason was looking at them with an air of disbelief. She made a point of turning around and flushing to allow him a very good look at her ass cheeks before she pulled up her half-slip. When she had smoothed down her pleated skirt over her hips, she asked him to check out her attire. She was surprised when he stroked her hind flanks with a tender touch to erase any remaining wrinkles. A quick look at his groin was enough to convince her that he was most certainly not of the non-hetero persuasion.
As they exited the restroom, an M branch sort was looking at them quizzically as if suspecting some disgusting hanky-panky had just taken place. There was absolutely no privacy for her no matter where she was. It was quite overwhelming and she sometimes regretted her decision to stand for the most responsible job in the nation.
Her secretary handed her the thin dossier with the background information on Jason Goodnight. She dismissed the mundane details and honed on the fact that he had recently broken off his engagement to the daughter of the Swiss Ambassador because of her indefensible behavior at an Oxford orgy. It would not have been too bad except the media had a goodly number of lurid photos of the very photogenic Helga on her knees. She was definitely not praying.
Jason was replete with a stint in the Royal Air Force and even had completed his law exams the previous summer. She called Jason into her office.
"Jason, I need to use you as a sounding board for my speech to be delivered tomorrow at Parliament. Are you free this evening after dinner?"
He didn't even hesitate for an instant.
"Of course, ma'am, I will be at your quarters right after dinner."
Helen took a very soothing and relaxing shower before dinner and made sure she was super clean and smelled like fresh flowers in the morning all over. She ruminated on the possibility of encouraging young Mr. Goodnight to explore her physical attributes as well as give her verbal input on her speech.
The brandy seemed to loosen them both up and she told Jason to accompany her to the private gallery room where she kept the most valuable pieces of her famous French Impressionists period. They stood close to each other as she explained the perspective in the Utrillo blue period. Each time she viewed that particular painting her pussy flowed with her female juices as she remembered her escapades on the left bank with the many bearded and penniless young men who entertained her on silent cold nights.
It seemed so natural when she leaned back into his enfolding muscular arms and felt the presence of his impressive masculinity pressing urgently into her soft and yielding ass cheeks.
Helen lifted her head around to meet Jason's greedy lips. They merged into each other's mouth with a single spark of electricity that sent a tingle down her spine and right into the depths of her heated crotch.
It was as if a signal had been given for the race to begin.
They frantically disrobed each other and they slapped their flesh together with a lively coupling like honeymooners on their wedding night. The beautiful impalement by Jason's lovely cock made Helen pant with an emotion she had never achieved in 10 years of marriage. Even when the assertive lad ventured to push his curious finger into her bung-hole, Helen just relaxed and gave him full rein to rob her of every last vestige of her powerful dignity.
She was beginning to feel like a slut and it was a comforting feeling to be so free in her submission to his urgent desire. Helen realized that if this young man wanted her to drop to her knees and satisfy his sexual craving with her well-publicized mouth, she would be more than willing to do so.
For a proud and powerful woman, it was an admission that shocked her to her very core.
Even now, as they were coming into the homestretch of the glorious cleaving, she wanted to shout out for him to pull out before he shot his seed into her unprotected vagina. But she knew it was too late in more ways than one. His balls were churning ceaselessly and his cock was swelling with the telltale indicator that she was about to be flooded with creamy cum. She mollified herself with the acceptance that her age most likely precluded the possibility of any eggs ready for fertilization.
When the force of Jason's spunk hit her deep in her core, Helen whimpered like a lovesick University student being introduced to kinky new tricks.
They both stayed coupled together like animals in heat resting for another round of frantic humping. Her pussy was filled to the brim but Jason's cock acted like a stop-plug to keep most of it inside her quivering vagina. Helen looked up into his serious blue eyes and knew that he was going to make her do it again. She could feel him getting hard as a rock inside her well-stuffed slit. Before he even started on round two, she felt herself spiral down into a bottomless pit of orgasmic release and held onto his muscular body to steady her uncontrollable convulsions. No sooner had they subsided somewhat, than young Jason began to probe her hard and deep. He was going into places she didn't even knew existed and made her tremble like a helpless sheep in the grasp of a relentless ram.
Helen heard him shout something at her just before he flooded her again with the sticky remnants of his male juices. She didn't understand but the liquid deposit was enough to make her shudder in sheer delight.
When Jason took his leave, Helen pulled him low to whisper in his ear.
"We have the monetary fund meeting in Brussels next week. I want you next to me at all times. I do mean all times, dear boy!"
Helen dozed intermittently on the flight back from the Brussels Conference.
The entire three days had been so boring with constant droning on about currencies and interest rates that she had almost fallen asleep sitting in the comfortable leather chair at the circular mahogany table. She remembered being startled awake by the strident voice of the Italian minister berating the Greek treasurer about their loose accounting methods.
She had looked around, but the only one who had noticed her temporary departure from reality was Jason Goodnight, her personal assistant. He smiled at her with a devastating charm that never failed to turn her pussy into a quivering bowl of gelatin.
Her most memorable part of the trip was the quickie in the executive restroom in an area totally devoid of any listening or visual devices. The introduction of Jason's sturdy member up deep into her heated vagina seemed to sooth away all of the stress of the highly charged confrontational issues under discussion. She bent forward with her head down toward the commode and allowed her wet pussy to open wide for her lover's tender penetration. Neither of them spoke a word, not from any sense of fear, but more in a studied concert focusing their entire attention on reaching the finish line as quickly as possible and, hopefully, at the very same time.
Jason carefully rearranged her attire so that she appeared unruffled and fully in control of her dauntless dignity. She knew she would have fallen to her knees if her lover had pushed her head down in the signal he wanted her to attend to his needs with her world-famous face. Helen was conflicted about the required submissiveness of such actions, but she knew deep inside that she would do anything to please the handsome young man. She realized that she had grown used to her submissive role in their relationship. It was most unfamiliar to her persona of a strong-willed and determined woman with a brittle exterior, but for some strange reason it felt comfortable and it felt right.