Page Ch. 07

I walk over and step down with his assistance. I take a glass and take a big sip and then sit right on his lap. His cock is straining against me and I wiggle so the water sloshes between us. The bubbles fizz in the cool air as I work him into me with a satisfying release of tension.

"That's better," I say. "Yesterday was one of the nicest days in memory, but today is coming very close to topping it and it isn't even over."

"It's good to see you happy. Just a day or two ago, you looked pretty tense. Is everything going alright?" he asks in a concerned tone.

"Yes, there's always something in my line of work that brings stress," I tell him.

"Have you ever thought about doing something less stressful?" he asks and pushes the hair back from my eyes.

I hadn't realized, I was hiding my face from him. Maybe it was habit or another defense mechanism. My silence leaves him with nothing to go on and he hugs me close.

"Sorry, I'll stop," he offers and thrusts his hips upward a little.

"Well don't stop that," I say returning the action by lifting off him and back down forcefully.

"I just want you to know you can talk to me, off the record. I won't use it in any story."

"I know. I trust you. Look at us, there isn't much deeper trust from an older woman than nudity."

"Are you even thirty?" he asks sweetly and grips my hips to aid in our coupling.

"No, you're right. For some reason twenty-seven felt different," I reply.

I kiss him about his cheeks and neck and wonder why these feelings of my age difference are effecting me. Life has been fairly good ever since I arrived in America. Maybe something in this trip's over the top nature has made me listen to my internal voice and clock more carefully. How would adding a family change things? Could I even pull that off? I wonder. Without realizing it fully, I've been increasing my grinding atop his lap and I notice he's tensing.

"Mmm, go a little slower," he says softly. "This is nice being here with you."

Slowing a bit, I tell him, "I agree."

Distracting myself to keep our pace slow, I look out over the snow-covered hills. My hands grip the lip of the hot tub and my fingers hold the smooth stone. In an odd way the whole experience feels like home. It's not the home I grew up in; it's better. This one includes a warm loving man. That fact alone offsets the worry over material things this trip has wrought. My fear that they may gain sway over me begins to succumb to more primal needs.

Dave's hand on my breast and mouth on my nipple brings my eyes back to watch his pursed lips suckling. My fingers work into his hair while I consider how his behavior is sexy and cute at the same time. There is an irresistible influence he has over me demanding I increase my force and rhythm. Before the water begins sloshing over the sides, I relax back to a gentle grinding. I down my champagne while he greedily engages the other nipple. His tongue curls as he takes it into his mouth. The rough buds endlessly work my excited teat.

"I wish we could stay in this moment forever," I tell him abruptly.

It seems to trigger something in him and he buries his face in me. Mussing his hair, I hope I haven't said anything I shouldn't have. His long eyelashes flutter against my skin and I think there might be tears, but I don't comment on it. It is enough to keep moving gently in the water with him. After several moments, he raises his head.

"I think, I love you."

---

Pre-Christmas dinner at the lodge's fancy restaurant, is very low key. Dave's family is Jewish, but the lodge has subtle holiday ambiance. He's promised that this meal is last of the surprises.

"Is all of this your diabolical plan to sweep me off my feet?" I ask in mock seriousness.

"Oh, you figured it out, now I'll never get my hooks into you."

"Stop it, silly. You -"

"Sorry to interrupt, madam, but there's a call for you, sir," the waiter says handing Dave a cordless phone.

"Who is it?"

"Mister Aaron," he replies, bows and excuses himself silently.

Dave speaks quietly but remains sitting at the table. From what I hear and can infer, there's some event happening with a relative. There's a word I didn't quite get 'vort' and New Year's. Then my ears perk when I hear him say, "No, I haven't seen or spoken with Ryan, that's why I left the message with you." I continue listening, but look away when Dave's eyes land upon me. He proceeds to tell the other person that he's here with someone. I turn back to him and he smiles at me and continues with his low conversation. "Okay, I'll tell her. Have a safe trip," he finishes and hangs up.

I ask, "You'll tell me what?"

"My second cousin is having an engagement party on New Year's Eve. He said I can bring a date if you'd like to come," he offers hopefully.

"Let me think about it," I respond noncommittally.

Things have been going so well and I've allowed myself to get very close to him. A part of me wants to tell him I'll go without even thinking it through. Something is telling me I should get more details and I let my suspicious nature take charge.

The meal is delicious, but I'm distracted somewhat. There's a worry in my subconscious. I can't put my finger on it. Too many things are happening at the same time and I may have had too many glasses of this wonderful wine. I try to keep them all straight: Page, Ryan, Peter's screw ups, our bosses, the election, my other assignment, this potential party, and on and on. The only stable item in the picture is David. With him comes the romantic quality of everything we've done, the allure of sex this evening and the possibility a permanent security. This last idea fills my mind and I let go of the other disturbing thoughts.

---

Christmas evening isn't what I'm used to. Dave is sitting on the sofa working on his laptop: checking his e-mails, typing away on some document and checking texts on his phone. I'm not watching closely; we've had sex every day of the trip sometimes more than once in a day. It's like my wish for a decent fucking has been filled and it is a present all by itself. Papachka never really celebrated it much either, but since coming to the states, I've come to expect little gifts that friends exchange. The trip and everything are better than any trinket and I release the feeling.

At that moment Dave's cell phone rings and he excuses himself to the restroom, leaving his laptop on the table. I cannot resist taking a peek at the open window there. I can't really call this snooping; it's natural curiosity. The document he's left open is a titled Congressman Ryan Levik Biography. There are several bullet points of very positive items, but there are a couple items dealing with his one-night stand with a married woman.

This item is highlighted yellow and it grabs my attention because it's the event that we'd blown up into the affair that sank his reelection. His notes don't mention that she'd been an unwitting accessory to his setup. The highlighted section marks that Ryan had reached out to her during the campaign to offer his regret at her being dragged into the mess.

There aren't many good men in the world and I'm feeling a little regret for the tactic that'd been used on him. I don't turn the page even though he's out of the room for quite a time and I haven't heard any water use in the bathroom. However, I'm rereading a section when I'm startled by Dave clearing his throat just outside the bathroom.

"Hey," I say turning toward the sound. I know I'm busted, so I cover my guilt with misdirection. "He's a good guy isn't he."

"I am trying to keep an open mind and collect facts, but full disclosure, I know him personally."

"Is he covered in one of your stories?"

"Yes, it's coming out in the morning. After going through some e-mail tonight, I'm adding more background in case he gets the nomination."

While Dave gets situated with his laptop, I attempt to avoid dwelling on the fruits of my snooping too long and say, "Are you going to be a while then?"

He looks over at me sadly and says, "I didn't plan on it, but we haven't allowed much time for me to keep up."

"You haven't gotten on your phone or laptop the entire trip. I know I've monopolized your time so it's fine really. I'm kind of tired. I'll go to bed and let you catch up, okay?" I ask giving him the out.

"Alright," he says. "I'll make it up to you in the morning."

As I stand, he stretches his arms out to me for a hug. We embrace tightly and say "Night" together. I head to the bedroom and close the door. While I disrobe, I dig out my phone to check in with Natalie, while he's occupied. There hasn't been much progress. They think the couple are still in Virginia, but there has been no further activity on the phone Page used to hack Nadya. I put my phone on the charger, slip into the far side of the bed and fade away dreamily thinking about where Ryan and Page might be hiding.

---

On the morning of December 27^th we are up early despite squeezing in some late night or early morning sex. After showering and dressing, we put our luggage in the RAV4 and head over to the lodge. There we have a nice breakfast, check out and are leaving the resort shortly after eight to head back to DC. At the bottom of the road down from the resort, Dave stops to start his navigation. It's suggesting an alternate route home and his eyes twinkle with mischief as he accepts it.

Seeing my question, he says, "This won't take any longer and there'll be less traffic. It avoids New York," he points out tracing his finger over the new path.

I know it's probably a good idea since it is only a couple days after Christmas. The route displayed follows interstates 87, 78 and 81 and projects an arrival time of 7:00 PM without stops. I shrug and smile and he starts off down the highway. The snow-covered hills seem to mesmerize me and I doze until the first pit stop to recoup some sleep I've lost over the long week of activities. My mind spins and I am reflecting over how quickly the days have disappeared. In a way, I don't want them to end because each one has been full of activities. These were mixed with trips to the lodge for dinners we don't have to prepare and desserts that are to die for. All of the activity is making me wish I were a couple of years younger. I'm not having trouble keeping up with Dave, but I can feel the effects of it. I'm not complaining, but the number of times we've had sex has got to be some kind of personal record. Actually, I'm hoping we can continue on this track when we get back to DC.

We have a quick lunch and are back under way. He has some soft classical music playing along the scenic drive. We talk a little, but my thoughts are refocusing upon what may happen when I get back to DC. As the afternoon grows, so does my anticipation. As darkness and dinner time approach, Dave unexpectedly takes the exit ramp in Front Royal.

"Aren't we almost home?" I ask.

"Yes, but one of my favorite places to eat is here. Don't judge it by the outside, it's the inside that you'll like," he says.

"So, you had some ulterior motive for coming back this way?"

"It was in the back of my mind. You haven't committed to seeing me New Year's Eve, I'm hoping this one last stop might tip things in my favor."

"Ah, I see... That's pretty sneaky; I'm going to have to keep my eye on you," I tell him sternly.

The outside is as Dave has said, nothing to write home about. Inside a lovely hostess, Carol, meets us and escorts us to a private booth with leather seats and a thick oak table top. On the antique tables are nicely lit oil lanterns that gives the area a warm romantic glow. Each flame sways to random air currents and their dancing creates interesting shadows in the quiet enclave.

Carol places thick leather-bound menus on our highly polished table, turns to us and says, "May I take your coats?"

Dave answers, "Sure," as he helps me from mine and then removes his to hand to her.

As we are seating ourselves, she says, "Your waiter will be right with you. Enjoy your meal and let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"What a quaint little place; how'd you find it?" I ask him as I look across the table.

"My parents live up on the mountain here and love the place. Even my cousin Gary likes the place and he's a little picky. We often come up to go trout fishing and when we don't catch much, he insists on eating here. Saying that now, I wonder if the fishing might just be an excuse to come here," he says and laughs.

"It's like some place from an old movie," I say glancing around half expecting to see David's parents show up. It wouldn't be the end of the world to meet them, I had expected it might happen at the resort. For now, however, I'd like to avoid further entanglements until I decide how far I'm willing to let this relationship, or whatever it is, go.

Yes, it's kind of rustic while having an air of 'old money'. It isn't high end, like some of the restaurants in DC, but the food is phenomenal and the ambiance - well you can see for yourself. It's private, quiet and a little romantic," he says and gives my hands a squeeze.

I can feel myself smiling and tell him, "Thanks for bringing me here. Everywhere you've taken me has been extremely nice."

"So, you might join me for New Year's Eve after all?" he asks tentatively.

"It's looking favorable," I tease.

We both pick up our menus and start looking through them in silence for a minute or so. A very handsomely muscled waiter, Marcus, arrives at our table to deliver a fresh loaf of pumpernickel bread on a cutting board with butter. After setting glasses of ice water in front of us, he tells us about their specials and takes our drink orders. We both get tea and want to think about the main course.

Once he's gone I ask, "What do you usually get?"

"In the spring they have a very nice almond encrusted fresh caught trout, but I don't think that's on the menu this time of year, although they may have frozen. The special, the salmon with risotto is very nice and their steak is melt in your mouth," he offers.

"I wanted something a little lighter," I say rubbing my tummy. "We had too many desserts at the inn. Maybe I will try the salmon."

"We can ask Marcus if he has any other suggestions," Dave is saying as our waiter appears back at our table with glasses of ice tea.

"We've got some pan fried almond encrusted winter caught trout that will delight your taste buds," he offers with a smile.

"You've sold me," I say handing him the menu.

"Me too," Dave replies. "Can we get a couple glasses of this Riesling?" he asks pointing at an entry on the wine list.

"Yes sir. I'll have them right out. The meal comes with a mixed green salad, is the house dressing alright?"

We both reply, "Yes" at the same moment and laugh.

When the server is gone, Dave reaches across the table and takes my hand again. "You don't know how much I've enjoyed your company this week."

A flutter in my midsection makes me hesitate, but I answer, "It is something I won't forget."

I put my hand atop his smooth warm hand and feel the strength of his grip on mine below. His other hand joins and we stare into each other's eyes. The dancing candle light flickers and I can see a hint of blue in Dave's steel grey eyes. I'd seen it in front of the fire at the cabin, but tonight they seemed to penetrate into my soul. For a moment I feel like he can see things I'm hiding, but that passes and is replaced by a comfortable glow. Time must have been standing still, because Marcus is suddenly there with us placing our plates and wine glasses in front of us and asking if we need anything?

We eat and converse lightly. The meal is exceptional, but I'm lost in my feelings for him. For the first time in my life, I wonder if I am doing what I want and if I wouldn't be happier if I could be open with him. On the drive home, my silence continues when we reach my place, he shakes me gently awake.

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

"It was a long week and you're tired," he replies understandingly.

"No, that's only part of it. I have some thinking to do," I say caressing his cheek. We kiss a long tender kiss but eventually I break away and climb out of his SUV. "I'll get my stuff; the trip was wonderful."

"No ma'am, I'll help you to the door," he replies.

I'm glad for the help, but am wanting some time to think over everything I'm feeling. After he places the larger of my bags inside the door, I hug him tightly and we kiss again. There is a huge temptation to invite him inside, but before I can, he's broken it off saying "Give me a call." With that he's walking back to his RAV4 and then drives away. I close the door almost disappointed he didn't ask to come inside. Dreamily, I strip off my clothes for bed. Despite all of my napping, I find I'm exhausted and succumb to sleep moments after my head touches my pillow.

---

Early the next evening I'm still in my bed daydreaming about my trip with Dave. What I decided last night, was to take today to recover from our trip. Other than the clearing of snow from the driveway and eating a light lunch, I have done a lot of nothing. A couple trips to make tea or visit the bathroom, but most of my time has vanished with me reliving events from our vacation at Dave's glorious family resort.

Our time together had been great fun but it was also mentally tiring somehow. Interacting with Dave I found myself completely captivated. He was full of surprising stories and playful behavior. Last night was the second time he'd arranged reservations without me realizing it. The one on our return home had triggered something in me. That quaint little restaurant in Front Royal was so romantic and his gentle words had a way of touching me that I hadn't thought possible. My resistance to falling in love seemed to be at the heart of my mental weariness. My opinion wasn't just evolving, it had turned one-hundred-eighty degrees. A deep desire to share myself completely has consumed most of my waking thoughts today.

Memories of the love making in that little cottage kept me moist most of today. I can hardly think about anything other than the love and attraction I have for him. These obsessive thoughts seem to play on a loop as I close my eyes. I want to visualize him atop me as my fingers ache to imitate him between my puffy outer lips. Losing myself to these impulses, I am regretting not having asked him to stay. My eyes flick open when a buzzing on my night stand diverts me. I'm hoping maybe Dave is calling, but picking up the phone, I find it is Nina.

"Hey Rayne, they're back at the condo."

"Are you there or watching the video links?" I ask as I reluctantly climb from the warmth of my bed.

"I'm on my way over there; Nat alerted me that the video was picking up activity. She doesn't think they're staying put but I'm pulling in now," she says.

"We need a tracker on his car," I tell her.

"Right, the A6 first and then should I follow her?"

"No, stay on him even if they split up," I tell her as I start pulling on some clothes.

"I'll head that way, I should be there in half an hour, with traffic."

"It's pretty light, now. Probably from the holiday."

"Okay, text me if anything changes," I tell her and disconnect.

It doesn't take me long to finish dressing and I head to my car. I am considering how important following Page might be as I walk across calcium chloride pellets sprinkled on the driveway. When I get to it I'm glad I cleared the snow this morning. Getting in I start it up and hurry across town. I'm about half way there when I get a text, "On the move. Pyotr is shadowing. Tracker not installed."