"Little" Sister Pt. 07

We went back to the main house. Other than the beginnings of the water project, we had seen all the work. Elspeth and I thanked Mr. Maneesen for his time. I promised to have someone on-site soon. To that end, I suggested getting one of the rooms ready for a resident. When I asked Elspeth which room she and Trip wanted, her mouth fell open. It was not the first time I had struck her speechless, but it may have been the record for time.

I explained to Mr. Maneesen that I intended to offer the site manager position to Elspeth's fiancé. Until a room was ready, they could have the apartment in Nashua. I warned him that Trip was not the most politic of persons, that he would have a fountain of ideas and that he would assume everything would be done his way.

Mr. Maneesen was getting nervous. I told him that Trip would respect boundaries, provided they were sufficiently clear, and that he would assume immediate responsibility for any commercial decisions. This brought considerable relief. I also told him that Elspeth would be available to act as his liaison, at least by email or phone. Then we took our leave.

On the boat, crossing the river, Elspeth asked me when I decided to put Trip in charge. I told her at the orchard. She stared at me. I said, "Trip would have done something very similar. Sean does it all day. Do not worry about it, because you need to plan a move. Trip can have the apartment, at least til there is room in the house. Keep me a guest room." That apartment is still their official residence. The room at Cloudrest is just their room, not their home.

The apartment in Concord did not work out as neatly. If it had been suitable for company use, I might have had the company pick it up. Unfortunately, it was a badly furnished starter apartment. Since I was not going to use it, likely no one would. Eventually, I just let the lease expire. It was too bad the nicer place in Hooksett was already gone. That's life.

Concord also underscored my growing celebrity. Before the election, I was often the topic of conversation at the Capital building. As a seated Representative, everything stopped when I was around. At FDC, it was even worse. By law, I was restricted from taking an active role in company management. That made my visit something of a farewell tour. We have words like "bittersweet" to describe such things.

After Concord, I squeezed in a few hours in Nashua, setting up my official US Representative office. As luck would have it, it was in the same building as Edward Gregg, the accountant I met the first day I investigated the Nashua real estate market. I considered dropping in on him, but decided to handle it through his aunt. Edna Gregg was the first of my lady's circle ladies. She was thrilled to hear the news.

On the way back to Washington, I managed a few more hours with Lars. We set Memorial Day weekend for our wedding. The actual wedding would be on the 27th, with a reception at the Residence on the 28th. That put Sean and Sheila one day ahead of us, which I thought was appropriate. Lars joked that we could also do it on the houseboat. Just thinking about the bobbing catwalk made my stomach turn.

In the end, there was very little hug and cuddle time. We sat in the back of my Infiniti, doing some heavy petting, when my monthly arrived. I rarely swear, but that time I was tempted. Not only did it ruin the time I had with Lars, it proved I was not pregnant. Instead, we went to the nearest drugstore, so I could restock on pads. The checker was about eight months along. Sigh.

Back in Washington, everything seemed to revolve around the situations in North Africa. In what become known as Arab Spring, a wave of violent protests swept the region. There was much debate as to whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. As a PhD in Sociology, my opinion was regularly sought. When a position opened in the Middle East and North Africa subcommittee of the House Foreign Affairs committee, I was plugged in over several more senior people.

For a while, it was like being back at school. My reading list was brutal. I suspect most Representatives would have had their staff do it. Tempting as that was, I was by far the best-qualified person in my office. I did the reading and let my staff cover everything else. A series of major tornadoes was a respite, though not a welcome one. My diligence paid off quickly. Ileana Ros-Lehtinen, the Chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee, asked me to read her brief on regions showing signs of violence.

She and I were already familiar. Ileana was one of the strongest Republican supporters of gay and lesbian rights. She had literally welcomed me to the Capital with open arms. In foreign affairs, she had a long history of humanitarian efforts in various parts of the world, which led her to be selected as the first Republican head of the Foreign Affairs committee since 2007. Repressive regimes she could handle. Serious fighting was not her cup of tea.

It showed. Ileana's positions were all over the map. Many of them could be reduced to hand-wringing. When she asked my opinion, I did not try to spare her feelings. She went very cold. While she did not cut our meeting short, nothing more was accomplished. It took her a week to thaw. By then she had made some comments she would eventually be forced to retract. As often happens in Washington, the apology came in the form of an invitation.

The event was nothing much. Ileana was speaking at an LGBT fundraiser. During the course of Q & A, she introduced me as another Republican who supported equal treatment and same-sex marriage. This was greeted with skepticism. I eventually resorted to some before makeover pictures and invited them to see the Army boots in my office. However, the thing that turned the trick was the men's suit I wore at the wedding. Go figure.

In any event, Ileana and I became close. Herself a PhD, in higher education, she respected what I had done academically. I became a regular part of her circle of advisers and sat on several foreign policy hearings over much more senior Representatives. Since Arab Spring dominated the rest of the year, this gave me a very high profile for a freshman Representative.

Socially, Ileana became my Cuban mother. She's in my wedding pictures. My birth mother is not.

Chapter 36 – By the Power Vested in Me,...

People look at the six-figure salary of a Congressman and think they are sitting pretty. Hah. My miserable two bedroom apartment was two thousand a month. I spent another six hundred a month on garage space, not to mention what I paid Johnson. At some point I would need to entertain, which meant serious money on rentals and such. Ileana helped me through a lot of this, as did Representative Leonard.

My wedding was a chance to pay some of it back. The actual wedding was at the Morris County courthouse. We exchanged wedding bands and made our vows. My witnesses were Sheila, Elspeth and Ileana. Sean stood for Lars. Judge Leonard officiated. In retrospect, I was calling Ileana by her first name almost from the start. I never became informal with Representative Leonard. Even at our wedding, he was The Judge.

The Residence staff went all out for the reception. I sort of understood. Everyone that worked on Sean and Sheila's wedding had stories to tell grandchildren. It was a lot of work, which they did, yet I received the lion's share of the credit. Even Sean, who runs a billion dollar company, sings my praises. I only did what needed doing. I never tried to be popular, but for some reason I was.

Unlike Sean and Sheila's wedding, the weather was bad. I have no idea what we would have done with less than perfect weather that whole week. For my wedding, the bulk of the plans were indoors. The biggest loss was the patio seating. It meant dining tables needed to be set up on the dance floor. Still, even Francine did not complain about the quantity of food.

The first real surprise was when Francine announced Michael Foxworth and his orchestra. Dr. Foxworth directed the first wedding dressed as John Phillip Sousa. For Lars and me, he did Glen Miller, including the trombone. The party was World War II swing, which had to be a dig at my German spouse. Lars and I could cope. Besides, it was fun. Francine even sang a few show tunes for us.

Unlike Sean and Sheila, who spent half their honeymoon in airplanes, we had only a short drive to Manhattan, where we did it all again. Siemens and Lars' family went together for a Sunday afternoon white tie and tails reception at the Plaza. Once again, Francine acted as MC, this time in an outrageous flapper outfit.

The music was provided by an exceptional band, which turned out to be our gift from Pedro de la Garza. From Sheila, I received a note, two garment bags and an enlarged photograph. The note said I should ask for a package marked with my married name. The bags contained my long lavender gown from their wedding and a glittery above-the-knee gown in midnight blue. For me, this was beyond daring.

The photograph was of Lars and myself, riding carousel ponies. Lars had an evil grin, while I looked scandalized. What made the picture memorable was the suit I was wearing. It was a modified British men's morning suit, which I still had. The photo was also a challenge, since I was not presented in a flattering manner. In fact, I was acting like a girl. Trust Sheila to show me as feminine, while dressed in masculine clothing. Damn, that woman is good.

Once I followed all the convolutions, there was only one thing to do. I asked a hotel staffer to get the package and gave the picture to Lars, so he could install it at the gift table. I took the short, slinky blue dress to a changing room. Thank God I wore dance heels, because in that gown I would never get off the floor. At least I would get to see Francine's expression. Sheila likes to spring things on her too.

The first hurdle was that the gown could not be donned alone. Fortunately, there was a female hotel staffer nearby. Knowing Sheila, that was no coincidence. The second hurdle was the design of the dress. A card said that straps were optional. I am full figured. Strapless would work, but there would be the constant fear of a malfunction because strapless is also braless.

I trusted Sheila and took off the bra. Getting the gown zipped up was a challenge, but the clamp on my ribs was reassuring. That was Sheila again. She loves corsets and bustiers. Once everything was in place, my assistant showed me something small that I had missed—a garter belt and stockings. Damn. She licked her lips as I pulled off my pantyhose and panties. The hose I discarded. The panties would go on over the garter stays. What's the point of good black lace if you cannot take it off?

While I was at it, I stuck a couple of fingers in to check the oil. I was not fully lubricated, but well on the way. I held my damp fingers under my assistant's nose. Her name tag said Patricia. She surprised me by reaching her head forward and licking my fingers. I allowed her to suck on them for a moment, while I decided what to do. It was almost too easy.

I held out my hand. There was a momentary battle of wills, while Patricia pretended to not know what I meant. When her eyes dropped, it was over except for the details. She took off her shoes and pants, then stood. She pushed her underwear down to her ankles, without bending her knees. Sorry, Dear. Show it to someone that does not know Francine Martel. I stuck the panties in her mouth and told her she could cum all she liked, as long as they stayed there.

Patricia came on the third swat, and the tenth, and the twenty-first. Naughty girl. I wondered if Sheila had arranged a lesbian submissive, or if I was just lucky. I would never know, because hell would freeze over before I asked. My hand was covered with Patricia's moisture, which I allowed her to lick off. Once my hands were dry, I applied scented hand cream. By then Patricia was dressed again, sans panties. I told her to keep them because she would not wear any panties til she found someone to put that pair back on her.

Patricia's eyes were very big as she touched up my make up. While she made sure I was all put together, there was a discrete knock on the door. Patricia looked to me. I nodded. At the door was one of the hotel managers, holding a familiar jewelry box. Somehow Sheila and/or Elspeth had arranged for my ruby and diamond set to be delivered. This was the reproduction set, but it was still Tiffany. Patricia's lips parted in a silent "O".

One nice side effect of the spanking was that I was over my shyness. I needed the confidence for what came next. Patricia pulled my hair back, the pinned it in a coil. The hotel manager hung the necklace, then gave the other pieces to Patricia. One of the rubies hung just low enough to tickle my breasts.

I placed the earrings myself. As Marie pinned on the brooch, I asked her full name. She said, "Patricia Warner. Most people call me Trish, but you can call me Pet." I could not leave that alone.

I said, "I would love to call you, but we both know it will not happen. There is a very tall German I intend to fuck senseless tonight. You may think of me when you get off, if you like. Pet."

She did an Elspeth and crushed herself to me. I told her she was desirable and responsive. After a long moment, we separated. I went to look at myself in a mirror. Damn Sheila is good. In the blue dress, with black heels and gray pattern stockings, my legs seemed to go on forever. The bustier pushed my size Ds together and up, showing impressive cleavage. The red of the rubies play well against Marie's understated makeup. When I nodded my head, she seemed to glow. Then I opened the door and let life back in.

I would like to say the party had more surprises, but not. As a dance, it was enjoyable and exhausting. Lars proved quite adept at swing, while half the men lined up for my unclaimed dances. I flatter myself to think it was only partly a shortage of other women. After a couple of hours, my feet were getting seriously annoyed with me. I asked Lars to call the last dance. The two of us had the whole floor for Begin the Beguine.

As we finished, Francine said, "If I didn't know better, I would swear they knew each other." There was laughter, but it cut short. Most of the people there knew how little we had seen each other over the last three years.

I shot back, "Did the Gideons stop by? I want a Biblical reference." That played much better.

Francine tried another shot, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Mister and Doctor Gunter-Richards, or is it Richards-Gunter?" Not bad.

I said, "We're going now. Try to leave room service something to serve for breakfast. Maestro, everyone, it has been an honor." If Francine said anything, it was covered by applause. Francine still had the last laugh. Our room had a basket of sex aids, running from condoms and lubricants to restraints and floggers, complete with explicit how-to videos.

As Sheila says, you have to love Francine or strangle her.

Chapter 37 – Kraft Disziplin Kinder

Fortunately, we did not notice Francine's gift for hours. We were busy. I may not have Sheila's liquid grace, but she had taught me a lot about staging a scene. Lars was already kissing my neck on the elevator. I stopped him just inside the door.

Moving back, so he could see my whole length in his peripheral vision, I held his eye. I removed the heavy earrings, then pulled up the hem of my gown. Using my thumbs, I hooked the skimpy black lace panties and pushed them down below the dress. Still keeping eye contact, I lifted each knee through the leg hole, then dropped them to the floor and stepped out. His arms were out as I strode into his embrace.

Hours later I knew several new things. I had already known that Lars was not as long as his height suggested, but I learned to appreciate his thickness. I learned I could take it all into my mouth and throat, without too much effort, but the better approach was to kiss the balls while I stroked the shaft. He was circumcised, which made the underside of the crown another interesting place. I licked it while stroking his balls, or his anus, with one fingernail. We met in a bondage club, so some kinks were expected. The way Lars reacted to small touches on his anus were interesting. Girls don't have prostates, but they usually like having that portion of the rectum stroked. I resolved to see how a man reacted to genuine prostate massage, but that was for another day.

Most of the other things I learned were about myself. Lars shot his first load into my mouth, per my plan. He understood my thinking but added his own touch. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me with his cum still on my lips. My heart swelled a little right then, which distracted me from what he was doing. He picked me up and threw me on the bed. It was a page out of my own manual—let them feel your strength.

For the next few minutes, we had a very straightforward wrestling match on the bed. I had always been the biggest and strongest. Lars was bigger and stronger. It settled out with him holding my hands over my head while he nuzzled my neck and nibbled on my jaw. I was more than ready when he moved between my legs and slammed home with a single thrust. I liked that I still had on the gown and he still had on most of his tux.

We did straight missionary position the first time. Don't knock it. It let me look at his face. After we finished undressing, we did a long period of exploration with fingers and tongue. For the next round, I rode cowgirl. I found he liked me wearing stockings and heels in bed. What I liked is the way he played with my ass during a slow ride and with my tits during a faster one.

We showered together, though we were too exhausted to do much. I was drying my hair when Lars found Francine's gift. In our condition, some of the videos were hilarious, but we did not linger. Instead, we dressed casually and went to find food. Dining at the Plaza was not my idea of fun and my expectations were low.

We did stop at the Tearoom to discuss their selection. Their tea expert was very taken with Dr. Gupta's family blend. I gave him my on-hand stock. He promised to have a pot delivered in the morning, with complimentary scones. I never gave him Dr. Gupta's contact information, but I did mention his name and that he was a Yale Professor.

We walked down 5th Avenue. After days of rain, the stars were out. Everything was well washed and smelled wonderful. A few blocks away we found an Albanian bar, Fund Day'e, which the Plaza's doorman recommended. In truth, it was more Greek than Albanian, but that was fine. I like ouzo, even if you call it raki. We ordered drinks and stuffed grape leaves. Things were a bit silly when our waitress asked if we were newly wed. I realized I was playing with my rings.

Lars had given me a family heirloom ring at our engagement years before. This was a concession to American style, since German's traditionally use only the wedding band. This ring was a simple floral pattern in white gold. As the engagement grew lengthy, I usually wore it on a chain around my neck. It was on my finger during the ceremony, when we exchanged matching bands. So, I had two rings on a left hand that was used to having none. No wonder I fidgeted. I held them up for her to see.

Lars was amused. He suggested I wear the promise ring on my right hand or put it aside for a daughter. That was very Lars—simple, practical, family-oriented. In that light, I gave up trying to get the rings to coexist. The band was the one that mattered. It gave me an idea. We had passed Tiffany on our way down 5th Avenue. This would give us an excuse to go back. We dined on gyros and cucumber salad, then went back to our room to make our first child.