twonines
LIMERICUS
Amazed would be more likely!
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A Tale of Two Barbs: A Pirate Cay Adventure
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
M
montycrusto
Guest
Barb. Please don’t try to seduce the President.., if he has a heart attack you’ll be arrested for treason!
I noticed, but it is only 8am here. By the way, Barb could have stayed at the Trump Hotel... I hear it is quite nice
The worrying thing is that nobody noticed!
windar
Teller of Tales
@Barbaria1 needs more "likes". 230,881 isn't enough for her!
oh shit. The first time the site timed out, so I hit the green button again
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
twice is much preferable to none at all ... I mantra I try to live byoh shit. The first time the site timed out, so I hit the green button again
twonines
LIMERICUS
Or at least for carrying a concealed weapon!Barb. Please don’t try to seduce the President.., if he has a heart attack you’ll be arrested for treason!
ledoux
Governor
Just to be clear. This is the wardrobe malfunction in play here. I thought it was rather nice (albeit really stupid) of him to point it out.
ledoux
Governor
OMG Fossy. Great minds think alike. You beat me by a couple minutes.
I must have been finishing mine when yours posted.
twonines
LIMERICUS
Be careful with those, you could have someone`s eye out!
Migoz2
Senator
You regularly hit my buttons, Barb.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Is this really Barb?
Oh yes, it is!
Thanks for writing me in, @Barbaria1, and allowing me to cop a feel while flashing your succulent tits!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Careful Barb. You might hit the site crash button by mistake.oh shit. The first time the site timed out, so I hit the green button again
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
A real 'gentleman' stands up from his seat to let a lady pass to her middle seat!
ledoux
Governor
3.
Following a perfunctory identity check and security screening, Barb found herself being escorted down a West Wing corridor by a young staffer who introduced herself as ‘Sherry’. Being there was just as she had imagined … strikingly like the sets for the television show, ‘The West Wing’. It seemed a beehive of activity, with staffers everywhere.
“You’re scheduled to meet with Leo McIntyre, the Chief of Staff, at 4:15”, said Sherry breezily. “And then with POTUS in the Oval at 4:30.”
“Wow,” thought Barb. “They’re really rolling out the red carpet!” She tried to remember exactly what the Chief of Staff looked like, but there had been so much last minute shuffling of appointees right after the new administration took over that it wasn’t at all clear to her exactly who was who and what they looked like.
Moments later she was ushered into the Chief of Staff’s office. He was on the phone and had his back to her as she entered, but invited her to take a seat with a backwards wave of his hand.
She settled into a chair facing his cluttered desk and, as she waited, busied herself with tugging at her tight skirt which had a habit of riding way up high on her thighs whenever she sat down. She avoided trying to eavesdrop on his conversation, which wasn’t difficult as he was mostly listening to whoever was on the phone, answering in monosyllabic words of agreement or disagreement.
Then as he hung up and turned to face her, she and he both recoiled in surprise and shock.
“You!” he said.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, checking the buttons on her blouse while simultaneously tugging at the hem of her skirt.
Recovering quickly, he smiled and said, “… so, we meet again.”
“Small world,” she replied, unable to think of anything better to say.
“Our little secret,” he said with a wink as he opened a dossier on his desk, “Ms. Moore, is it? Barbara Ann Moore, from Minnesota, right?”
“That’s me. Nice pair of tits and all,” she replied, deciding it best to make light of the whole situation.
“Well, Barb, that offer to hook up still stands.”
“I don’t think my husband would approve, but thanks.”
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“No, not really, but I’m honored.”
“Well, it’s because of the amazing job of political organizing you did back in Minnesota during the campaign. Thanks to you the President got those ten critical Minnesota electoral votes in his column. You put us over the top in November. And you’re here today so that the President can thank you personally. But there’s more. You’re also here so that he can offer you a place in this administration as a reward for all you’ve done.
“Oh, my God. Thank you. It was nothing. I mean, that’s what I do. Political organizing. It’s nothing … sorry … I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
“Understandable.”
“May I ask what kind of position in this administration?”
“I’ll leave that for the President to tell you.”
“Now, if you’re ready for this, I’m going to take you into the Oval now.”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good. Two things, Barbara Moore from Minnesota, before you go in there.”
“Sure, what?”
“Keep your knees together. That skirt is awfully short!”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. And the other thing?”
“Meet me in the Mayflower Hotel bar at nine this evening so I can buy you a drink to celebrate your day!”
“How did you know I’m staying at the Mayflower?”
“It’s here in your dossier. The White House staff booked your room and flight, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
“Does that mean we have a date?”
“Uh … okay … I guess so,” she stammered, wondering if there was a difference between a date and hooking up.
“Nine o’clock then … Mayflower bar.”
“Got it. I’ll be there.”
“Great. Now follow me. POTUS is waiting,”
Following a perfunctory identity check and security screening, Barb found herself being escorted down a West Wing corridor by a young staffer who introduced herself as ‘Sherry’. Being there was just as she had imagined … strikingly like the sets for the television show, ‘The West Wing’. It seemed a beehive of activity, with staffers everywhere.
“You’re scheduled to meet with Leo McIntyre, the Chief of Staff, at 4:15”, said Sherry breezily. “And then with POTUS in the Oval at 4:30.”
“Wow,” thought Barb. “They’re really rolling out the red carpet!” She tried to remember exactly what the Chief of Staff looked like, but there had been so much last minute shuffling of appointees right after the new administration took over that it wasn’t at all clear to her exactly who was who and what they looked like.
Moments later she was ushered into the Chief of Staff’s office. He was on the phone and had his back to her as she entered, but invited her to take a seat with a backwards wave of his hand.
She settled into a chair facing his cluttered desk and, as she waited, busied herself with tugging at her tight skirt which had a habit of riding way up high on her thighs whenever she sat down. She avoided trying to eavesdrop on his conversation, which wasn’t difficult as he was mostly listening to whoever was on the phone, answering in monosyllabic words of agreement or disagreement.
Then as he hung up and turned to face her, she and he both recoiled in surprise and shock.
“You!” he said.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, checking the buttons on her blouse while simultaneously tugging at the hem of her skirt.
Recovering quickly, he smiled and said, “… so, we meet again.”
“Small world,” she replied, unable to think of anything better to say.
“Our little secret,” he said with a wink as he opened a dossier on his desk, “Ms. Moore, is it? Barbara Ann Moore, from Minnesota, right?”
“That’s me. Nice pair of tits and all,” she replied, deciding it best to make light of the whole situation.
“Well, Barb, that offer to hook up still stands.”
“I don’t think my husband would approve, but thanks.”
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“No, not really, but I’m honored.”
“Well, it’s because of the amazing job of political organizing you did back in Minnesota during the campaign. Thanks to you the President got those ten critical Minnesota electoral votes in his column. You put us over the top in November. And you’re here today so that the President can thank you personally. But there’s more. You’re also here so that he can offer you a place in this administration as a reward for all you’ve done.
“Oh, my God. Thank you. It was nothing. I mean, that’s what I do. Political organizing. It’s nothing … sorry … I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
“Understandable.”
“May I ask what kind of position in this administration?”
“I’ll leave that for the President to tell you.”
“Now, if you’re ready for this, I’m going to take you into the Oval now.”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good. Two things, Barbara Moore from Minnesota, before you go in there.”
“Sure, what?”
“Keep your knees together. That skirt is awfully short!”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. And the other thing?”
“Meet me in the Mayflower Hotel bar at nine this evening so I can buy you a drink to celebrate your day!”
“How did you know I’m staying at the Mayflower?”
“It’s here in your dossier. The White House staff booked your room and flight, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
“Does that mean we have a date?”
“Uh … okay … I guess so,” she stammered, wondering if there was a difference between a date and hooking up.
“Nine o’clock then … Mayflower bar.”
“Got it. I’ll be there.”
“Great. Now follow me. POTUS is waiting,”
M
montycrusto
Guest
That used to happen every time she went to see the Dean
Sure.. like that’s going to happen…
Great chapter Barb!
Remember, don’t get the Potus too excited!!
I misread that at first … and thought you wrote “to see the Queen”. I need to write a story now about the time I did that. All that protocol to keep straight. I’m sure I could make a right proper mess of it all. Isn’t it a rule that when offered cakes or sweets during an audience with HRH, one must wait to see which one the Queen chooses before grabbing one for yourself?That used to happen every time she went to see the Dean
M
montycrusto
Guest
I don’t know, I just know that if you get it wrong, she’ll have your head cut off.