She had taken out her frustration with the holiday on her costume. Monica. Blue dress and black wig with a jaunty black beret set at a rakish angle. And a rubber mask that covered her face down to the mouth. She looked down. The dress even had a small stain in what she assumed was the right place. What a joke.
And this party. Too loud, too frantic, too…well just too. But she had promised her friend Val that she would attend, so attend she would. She had said her good evenings to Val, and hopefully, without too much notice, she’d slip out again after as short a time as possible, go home, and watch TV.
“Would you do it?” a voice said in her ear. She spun to see a Bill Clinton just behind her. He wore a well-tailored blue suit, wing tip shoes, and a rubber mask that covered most of his face. He was tall, his body lean, but she could make out little more than that and the fact that his eyes were brown.
“I’m sorry. Would I do what?”
“Give Bill Clinton head.”
“Not a chance. I’m a devout Republican. I’d probably bite it off.”
“I wouldn’t like that,” the man said, putting his hand on her arm, “but judging from the gorgeous sexy mouth of yours, you’d be great doing the Monica thing.”
“Would you let me?”
“Okay, now I’m confused.”
“Would you let someone you didn’t know get her teeth that close to your prized possession?”
His laughter was spontaneous and genuine. “I don’t suppose I would. But then in a few minutes we wouldn’t be strangers, would we?” He smiled down at her. “Drink?”
A few moments ago she’d been planning her escape, but now she nodded. “I’d love a white wine.”
“A Monica drink if there ever was one.” He turned toward the bar. “Don’t disappear.”
“Would Monica do that to Bill?” Linda answered.
And she waited, amazed and exhilarated. She had no clue what the guy looked like or what kind of a person he was, but somehow she liked him. And he had sexy hands. She caught herself up short. Where had that thought come from? Well, I’m just being honest. He does have great hands. She had noticed his long, nicely shaped fingers as he had briefly held her arm. She was a sucker for sexy hands.
And that hand now held out a glass of white wine. “Let’s go out onto the terrace,” he said. “It’s much quieter there, and maybe we can talk. Discuss politics, my being a Democrat and all.”
Although it was the last night of October, the air was just warm enough to relax outside without getting chilled. They stood and talked for a while as they sipped their drinks. The talk never got personal enough for them to learn much about each other, but they laughed a lot and Linda felt charmed and completely comfortable. As she leaned on the railing, she shivered a bit.
“Chilly?” Bill asked, moving behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands just beneath her breasts. “I have a great idea about how to warm you up, Monica.”
This was moving much too fast, Linda thought, but his arms felt so good. His thumbs began to rub the undersides of her breasts, and she felt her body responding. This is nuts, she told herself. I don’t know this guy’s name or even what he looks like beneath that mask. Yet, I’m letting him touch me, and I’m enjoying it. Her Monica dress buttoned up the front, and she felt his fingers undo the buttons then his warm, sexy hands slip inside. As his fingers cupped her breasts, she allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder.
She didn’t realize just how quickly things were moving until he flipped open the clasp at the front of her bra, and suddenly his hands were on her bare breasts. Her breasts, and particularly her nipples, had always been her downfall. Several of her ex-boyfriends had discovered that and taken advantage of her weakness, touching, biting, pinching until she was moaning, and willingly accepted anything they wanted to do with her.
His fingers were pinching her nipples, making heat lance down her body to her groin. She felt herself opening, moistening, readying herself for him. Oh God, she couldn’t help responding to him.
And what would be the harm. He didn’t have a clue who she was, and she didn’t know him. A quick fling, then anonymity. What’s the problem? She mentally shook her head. No problem.
Her back was still against his chest, and her buttocks detected how excited he was becoming as well. Hard, fully erect male flesh, only thinly covered by his Bill Clinton suit pants pressed into her cheeks. A soft moan escaped her lips. She was still looking over the city when one of his hands slid down and grabbed the front of her skirt. Slowly he lifted and pulled until his hand could grasp the front of her panties and slip inside. With one of his hands still kneading her breast and one rubbing her mound, she moaned. “Oh yes,” he whispered. “Yes. So wet.” He seemed to know just where to rub, touch, invade, and she tipped her pelvis so his fingers could slide into her channel. She wanted. Now!
She reached down and grabbed his hand, pressing the heel into her clit. She rubbed her body against his hand and arm like a cat in heat, until, with a small cry, she came. God, waves of pure pleasure rocked her. She grasped his wrist so tightly she wondered whether she would cut off the circulation. But she didn’t care. She just needed.
It was long moments until the spasms subsided. “Oh God, baby,” he moaned in her ear. “So incredibly responsive. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Linda caught her breath, then turned. “You asked me a question a while ago. I said I was a Republican.” Her hands went to his zipper, and she slowly lowered it, feeling the huge mass of hardened cock beneath. “Would you trust a Republican?” As she worked his cock free of his clothing, she glanced around. Thankfully the terrace was empty. She slipped to her knees and wrapped her hand around the base of his turgid member. Knowing she wasn’t able to take too much of him she wrapped her hand around the base of his hard prick, made an O with her mouth, and slowly sucked him inside. She had too active a gag reflex to do a deep throat, but her hand worked its magic. As she sucked on the end of his cock, she worked her hand rhythmically, squeezing her fingers in a pattern from her index finger on the base to her pinky about halfway up the shaft.
She knew he was close so she worked one finger in through his fly and rubbed his balls. He came with a loud groan, semen filling her mouth and making a fresh stain on her blue Monica dress.
She stood up and watched as he struggled to get his breath. What had she done? This was unthinkable. She wouldn’t have dreamed of doing anything like this except for the costume. It was a Monica thing. Suddenly she was so embarrassed she wanted to slip into the house and disappear. She wasn’t like this. She wasn’t.
“Can I get you another glass of wine?” he asked.
“Thanks,” she managed to say.
He walked into the living room, and quickly Linda slipped in behind him. She worked her way to the bedroom, grabbed her coat, and rushed out the front door. Almost running down the stairs, she pulled off her mask. What kind of a slut does he think I am? It doesn’t matter, she told herself. He doesn’t know who I am. She sighed. And it’s really too bad. We made each other laugh a lot. Under other circumstances…
She tossed and turned all night, and, by eight the next morning, thankfully a Sunday, she was up, dressed, and sitting in her tiny kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. When the phone rang just after nine, she slowly picked it up. “Hello?”
“Don’t hang up, Monica, and don’t be upset.” He spoke quickly, getting the words out before she could think. “It’s Bill. Last evening was wonderful, but much too fast. I didn’t mean to behave like that, but I guess I just