CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Matt
Cocktails were boring but I was charming the crowd. I pressed the flesh of not a few high net worth individuals, laughing at their jokes, expounding on my views of the ongoing war in Syria, how to resolve our lovely city’s ongoing homelessness problem, yada yada yada. It was only when a hush came over the crowd that I broke off my glad-handing, turning to see what had happened.
Or more accurately, who had happened. Teresa stood at the front door, unsure of herself, looking around warily. She was gorgeous, hands down. A black velvet cocktail dress hugged her curves, a hint of cleavage apparent but not obscene. Her legs were sheathed in gossamer silk topped off with black stilettos, a perfect outfit for a curvy girl.
Our hostess though, was more than a little frosty. Usually the chicks at these events are model-types, tall, dressed to the nines, so painfully thin that you can almost see through them. Teresa was the opposite – curvy, ripe, with a body so bodacious that every guy here was salivating, wondering what it’d be like between those thighs.
“Can I help you?” asked Mandy Hurst in a clipped tone. She was our hostess for the night.
“Um,” murmured Teresa, “Is Matt Sterling here? I was hoping to catch him.”
Mandy was about to snipe some retort when I made my way over, smoothly leaning down to give Teresa a kiss on the cheek. She threw me a grateful glance, thankful for saving her from this social piranha.
“Mandy,” I rumbled, “I see you’ve gotten a chance to meet my girlfriend, Teresa,” I continued. “Mandy, Teresa, Teresa, Mandy. I think you ladies have a lot in common,” I winked.
“Oh?” asked Mandy with an eyebrow arched. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you a part of MOMA’s Young Patrons club? Or maybe the Firehouse Brigade out at the Aquarium?”
Teresa flushed but handled the questions evenly. “Yes, I’m in Young Patrons,” she said in a calm voice. “I haven’t been to many events recently, but I plan on stepping it up.”
That’s my girl. I was proud of Teresa for fending off these veiled attacks, and of course I’d be buying a membership to the Young Patrons club as soon as I could get my accountant on the line.
“And where are you from?” asked Mandy pointedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around San Francisco,” she said.
Most folks in our crowd hail from some tony suburb, maybe Hillsborough or St. Francis Wood, going to country clubs on the weekends or hitting up their chalets in Tahoe for some skiing. Teresa, however, didn’t miss a beat.
“I live in the Mission,” she said. “It was pretty rough when we settled in but there’s been a lot of gentrification,” she continued. “I was hoping to help Matt on the campaign trail by emphasizing his commitment to the working class,” she added, looking up at me with adoring eyes. “My Mission roots and City cred are strong, and we know Matt has such a commitment to helping the working man.”
I had to applaud Teresa for that one as well. Of course, it was exactly what I’d hired her to do, but I hadn’t realized she’d slip into the role so quickly and so well. Her speech was elegant, refined and articulate, the perfect example of a woman who’d risen past her humble origins to be here today.
“Isn’t my girl savvy?” I said to our hostess as I slipped an arm around my girl’s waist. It felt so good there, so right, and I was more than happy to trumpet our relationship to the world. “Sweet and smart, my favorite,” I said, nuzzling her neck.
“Okay love birds, what’s going on?” came a deep masculine voice. It was my younger brother Caleb, here to support me at the fundraiser. Although not a political guy himself, Caleb had seen fit to tear himself away from his computers for one night, to do his part in promoting my candidacy.
“Caleb, you haven’t met my girlfriend yet,” I said smoothly. “Little bro, this is Teresa, Teresa, Caleb, the CTO of Sterling Phara,” I said by way of introduction.
Caleb threw a swift glance my way. Given that he’d never met Teresa, it was surprising that suddenly I had a girlfriend but he knew better than to embarrass me at a public function.
“Charmed,” he rumbled, giving Teresa a peck on the cheek. “Don’t believe a word my brother says, he’s a politician, it’s all lies,” he said with a smile.
And the rest of the night went along swimmingly. I squired Teresa about, introducing her to folks, making sure that people knew she was my significant other. And the girl was wonderful, making real conversation, with a nice smile and even nicer ass. I could tell some of these old dudes, they were into it.
“Where’d you find her, my boy?” asked George Terkel. Terkel was an early investor in our company, someone who’d believed in Sterling when we were just four brothers trying to get an idea off the ground.
“Right under my nose,” I replied with a sly wink. “The Mission is filled with undiscovered treasure.” And I was being truthful in a way because Teresa was from the Mission, but instead George inferred something totally different given the neighborhood’s sleazy vibe.
“The Mission District?” he asked dumbfounded. And then leaning in, “And does she still dance? She got an older sister for me?”
I snorted. Just because a girl has a bodacious bod doesn’t mean she’s taking it off for dollars, pulling her g-string aside for men to ogle and touch. In fact, the thought was fucking infuriating. No way my Teresa was showing her puss to any man but me.
“Nah, never danced,” I said with as much country charm as I could summon, the rage simmering underneath. “But I’ll find a dancer for you if that’s what you want. Just a sec, I gotta unload the fire hose,” I said, making my way off into the crowd.
I went upstairs in search of a restroom when I was suddenly halted by a silky voice, a manicured hand on my arm.
“Well well well,” purred a familiar voice. “What have we here?”
I turned to find a ravishing brunette sheathed in a clinging red dress, dripping with jewels. The predatory glint in her eyes was going strong, her voice high-pitched and insistent. Oh fuck, I knew this girl from somewhere.
“I’m Vanessa,” she reminded me seductively. “We met at Delinda’s party a couple weeks back? You promised we’d hit up L’Osseria’s wine-tasting event later this month,” she pouted. “I haven’t heard from you.”
“Um yeah,” I replied vaguely, “about that.” I’d completely forgotten about the so-called date, but it’d just been a brush-off. Women today were so pushy and aggressive it was insane.
“I work as a sommelier, I’d love to teach you about mouth feel,” the brunette continued seductively. “In fact, we can start right now.” And damned if she didn’t hike up her skirt to reveal a peachy pink pussy. It was pretty, I have to admit, ripe and juicy for someone so thin. Seductively, she ran a hand through her wet folds, coating her fingers in cream and pushed them into my mouth, forcing me to suck.
“Tastes good, right?” she asked huskily, eyeing me from under her lashes.
And reader, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I closed my mouth over her fingers and tasted. It was instinctive, pure reflex, all base reaction, and fuck, I’m into pussy no less. If it’s in my mouth already, I’m going to sample the cream.
But Vanessa’s particular brand of juice wasn’t my type. It was bland and mealy, probably because she was underfed. I wanted to spit her fingers out of my mouth, but it was too late. A gasp on the stairs let us know we’d been caught.
Who would it be but Teresa, ascending to the second floor, watching as I sucked another woman’s cunt juices. Her red lips were pursed in a silent “O,” her eyes wide with shock. And I have to admit, I was in a compromising position. Vanessa’s fingers dripping with juice were in my mouth, her dress was pulled up to her waist, and her snatch was obviously bare, gyrating against my crotch.
With a quick gasp, Teresa turned on her heel and fled downstairs immediately, my heart sinking as she left. Oh shit, oh shit.
“Who was that?” asked Vanessa silkily. “Oh well, doesn’t matter, probably just another ho who wants the hottest up-and-coming politician in San Francisco,” she purred, humping my crotch even harder with her bare twat.
But I’d had enough. I pushed the bitch away and snarled something, I have no idea what, my thoughts completely focused on hunting down Teresa and explaining what had just happened. But the crowd below was still mingling, still clinking their champagne glasses, and fuck, I couldn’t make a scene with so many potential donors. So I ambled downstairs and forced myself to mix with guests, to smile jovially and shake more hands until the event ended. Never had I been at a party so fucking tedious, so fucking unbelievably long, when all I wanted to do was to talk to my girl.
And I found her at the end of the night, when I got into the car’s backseat. She was waiting for me, her eyes dry but oddly bright, as if she’d been crying.
“Teresa,” I began. “Let me explain. Seriously, it’s not what it looked like.”
“No Matt,” she said slowly. “Don’t start. I’m just a hired gun and what you do on the side is your business. We never talked about getting nookie elsewhere, it’s an undefined part of the contract,” she said frozenly. “I just need twenty five thousand more,” she concluded swiftly.
“Teresa, seriously, please,” I pleaded. “It’s not like that. I only met that bitch once before in my life, she came onto me, I had nothing to do with it, I swear!” Even to me, it sounded like the lamest bullshit.
“Twenty five thousand,” she said again woodenly, looking out the window, not meeting my eyes. And what else could I do but agree?