Breakfast in America (3)
At the Fall Ball, following the Grand Tour of the Whitehouse and Gardens
“Mister Whiley, do you dance?” Grace motioned toward the dance floor where other couples were already gathering. With a smile, Joseph J Whiley II stood and held out his arm. Grace placed her right hand in his left and allowed him to lead her to the centre of the dance floor.
Just as they had been doing all day, the gathered throng parted to make room for the US Secretary of State. Special Agent Miller felt his touch upon her back, and placed her left hand upon his shoulder. When the music reached an appropriate beat, he sashayed her about the floor.
Although not a great dancer, it was apparent Secretary Whiley knew the steps and was capable of leading a partner. Having little dance experience, herself, Grace frequently had to correct her moves in order to keep up with him. He was patient and never showed the slightest annoyance over her missteps, simply delighted to be in the close presence of this sensual socialite as he guided the young beauty around the polished floor of the White House Ball Room.
The song was coming to an end. “Could you ask them to play another slow one?” Grace said to the Secretary.
“Real slow, you mean Miss Johnstone?”
Grace smiled her most flirtatious smile. Whiley nodded to indicate that he understood and went directly to the leader of the band while his gorgeous partner waited on the dance floor. A few words exchanged and the band began playing a very slow, romantic piece.
The Secretary returned with a look of accomplishment.
“Real Slow,” he announced. She smiled.
Once again, they assumed the commencement pose. However, this time she crept closer to him which meant her body brushed against his. As she swayed with the Secretary, Grace made sure her breasts were pushed hard against his chest. All part of the job. She needed this man to want to fuck her, and take her somewhere private in order to do so.
She moved her face close to his ear. “I like dancing with you, Mister Secretary.”
“Thank you, Miss Johnstone, I like doing this with you too.”
“Please call me Grace.”
“And you must call me Joe.”
Now, she was really making progress. Unaccompanied by his wife to this formal occasion, Secretary Whiley had been eyeing Grace all day, and the young Special Agent had made no secret of the fact that was enjoying his attention. Wearing tight, body-hugging clothes to the tour, Grace had pouted and smiled, acting both shy and forward … in short, she had spent the day trying to make Joe Whiley II crazy about her. It seemed now that her efforts were paying off. Grace nuzzled even closer, almost resting her head on his shoulder.
“Do you? Do you like me … Joe? Really? Am I the kind of girl you like?”
“Yes, you are, very much so.”
“Good. Because you’re the kind of man I like.” She eased her head into his fleshy jowls. “I like a strong man.”
“Strong?” His tone suggested he wasn’t sure of the what she meant.
“Big, strong and powerful, oh so powerful!”
“Ah!” he nodded.
“Would you like to know how much I like men like that … men like you?”
“How much?”
“Very, very much.” Grace purred. “For a man like that, I would do anything.”
His eyebrows rose. “Anything?”
“Anything that man wants me to do.” Special Agent Miller fluttered her eyes and then cast them down … perfectly submissive behaviour and it hit the spot flawlessly.
It suddenly occurred to Grace that they had stopped dancing. The same realisation must have come to the Secretary, because on the next downbeat, he started them moving again.
A couple, both fair skinned, blond, and probably in their thirties, were dancing to their left. The Secretary made a slight nod in their direction.
“Do you think that girl is pretty?” he asked. “Not so pretty as you, of course. But … pretty?”
“She’s pretty,” Grace agreed.
“Pretty enough to kiss?” He was starting to confuse his dance partner, and she tried not to overreact.
“Do you want to kiss her … Joe?”
“Not me,” he said. “Do you like her enough to kiss?”
“Do I want to kiss her?” Grace paused and then realised what he was doing. “I told you, Joe, I’ll do anything for the right man.”
“And who here tonight is the right man … Grace?” The Secretary looked down into her eyes.
“Only you,” Grace whispered her reply, pushing her chest harder against his.
He exhaled with some force. “May I see you tomorrow?”
Fuck – yes! He’s on the hook!
“I’d like that very much Joe. Should we meet here? Is your office here?” Grace Miller knew full well his office was at Foggy Bottom in the Harry S Truman building, but ‘Grace Johnstone’ wouldn’t necessarily have known that.
“No, my office is a few blocks away. We should meet at my house, or at least my Washington residence.”
“Your house?”
“Yes, I will send a car to pick you up. Don’t worry, my driver is very discreet. Where are you staying?”
“The Hay-Adams Hotel.”
“Okay, your transport will arrive at seven o’clock tomorrow night.”
“I will look forward to it, Joe.” Grace looked as bashful as she could and gave him her warmest smile.
The Hay-Adams Hotel, 15 minutes from the White House Washington DC
“How’d it go?” She had made the call directly to Marcus Devonshire’s private phone, as instructed.
“Fine. He’s sending a car for me at seven … tomorrow.”
“Whiley is? Really?”
“I’ve got a private date with him at his home.”
“Good girl.”
“Being good had nothing to do with it.” Grace sighed expressing the exasperation she felt at actually having to talk with a man she considered to be evil and moronic.
“Well,” he said, “… you know what to do.”
“Fuck him, search his home, find or create the required evidence and report back.”
“That’s it, Special Agent Miller, and I’m certain it’s a task you will warm to.”
Fuck you Devonshire … “Will that be all … Sir?”
“Yes Grace. Keep me posted.”
The call ended and Grace fell back onto the bed. How the fucking hell could she do this? What evidence could she actually find or create or … plant? She would need emails that talked about Whiley’s team being in London, and his knowledge of what happened there. Or … or … or what else?
At least now she would be inside his home, with him, and she would simply have to hope for the best.
To Be Continued …
