Chapter 38 - Bluest Oyster Cult

Following a discreet, yet well-treaded path exiting the grounds of the Naval Observatory, a pair of dark blue SUVs escaped the property with near invisibility by way of a seldom-used, northwestern maintenance gate then proceeded south-eastward along Massachusetts Ave. Inside the rear vehicle, Christie Stallworth had removed her glamorous blue sequined knee-length dress, bra, and pantyhose and was naked except for her white-laced thong. Knowing what to expect at dinner she chose to change into a far more comfortable and less-recognizable pair of sweatpants and matching hoodie. The two Secret Service agents riding in the front seats gave her no notice. They were well-used to the Second Lady’s covert trysts and each had seen her naked more than enough times before to make this backseat costume change completely unremarkable. Christie trusted completely the four agents from her personal security detail that were transporting her to tonight’s dinner. These agents were professional to their very cores, yet provided Christie with utter secrecy regarding her personal affairs. The Washington Post and Camera On America couldn’t pry dirty details from these agents even if they tortured them. As was the case twice already this week, Christie was en route for an extramarital escapade with her domineering lover while official duties kept her husband occupied elsewhere. For the third time this week, she was headed to her lover’s favorite hide-away.

Scurrying along the route past the most significant properties that construed Embassy Row, the mini-motorcade turned south on 14th Street, crossed the Potomac River via Interstate 395, then continued onto the Jefferson-Davis Highway and into Crystal City, VA. Both SUVs dimmed their headlights simultaneously prior to exiting the six-lane highway at 15th Street, shortly after crossing from DC into Virginia. The exit ramp dropped down from the highway to a lower-level of city streets lined with towering office buildings bearing the names of the world’s largest military contractors. Noticeably unique among the building skyline, at the base of the exit ramp, stood the mere four-story Americana Motor Hotel - an iconic DC area landmark known for its 1960’s architecture and appearance. The motel’s name glowed red along its roofline with a halo-like aura created by the neon sign’s projection onto the fog that was settling in the air along the river.

Christie’s vehicle pulled into the small parking lot adjacent to the south side of the motor lodge, while the accompanying SUV in her motorcade pulled in behind two similar looking SUVs along the curbside, such that it completed a vehicular barricade of the parking lot’s entrance. Christie didn’t wait for her door to be opened by her escorting agents and exited her vehicle with a hurried pace, then headed into the building through a dimly-lit, rear entrance door to the Bridgeside Raw Bar restaurant which adjoined the motel. As was always the case for these clandestine rendezvous, the restaurant was closed to the public for the evening through a secret arrangement made with the owner allowing Christie complete privacy with her dinner companion, DEFSEC Jon-E Gautrachs.

The restaurant’s owner, a grey-haired, portly-round Greek, named Theo led Christie to the back of the restaurant to find her awaiting companion seated alone in a booth with food and drink already served. Jon-E had devoured half or more of the jumbo shrimp cocktail and eight of the twelve oysters that topped an ice-lined serving tray in the middle of the table. As Christie took her seat across from him, Jon-E drained the last drops of the single-malt scotch from his glass pouring it down his open throat while gesturing towards Theo to bring him another.

“Martini or Chardonnay?” he asked her with little difference about the answer.

“Theo, may I please have an extra dry, Bombay Saphire martini with three olives?” Christie requested politely.

“Have some oysters. They’re from Chincoteague and taste delicious. Definitely doing the job, too. My dick is as hard as Japanese arithmetic right now.” With that perverted disclosure the DEFSEC grabbed Christie’s forearm and led her hand to the bulge in his lap.

“I’m not hungry, but I do want that drink.” Christie replied with a sly sexy smile and a deep stare into the DEFSEC’s eyes while her hand continued to massage his throbbing manhood under the table.

Theo returned with the two drinks in hand. He set them down in front of the scandalous couple without judging their current activities and retreated without a word. DEFSEC Gautrachs picked up his scotch and stood up from the table revealing his full sexual arousal. He took Christie by the hand and led her off toward the restaurant’s rear exit which led to the motel’s inner courtyard and the secret suite they had shared so many times previously.

Christie wanted to believe that she was the one controlling this relationship through her seduction and sexual attention, but she knew the opposite to be the sadistic truth. Jon-E was always the one in control, and he dominated her physically in bed - which gave her much pleasure. The couple retreated into their secret love nest and made love with passionate aggression for nearly an hour.

Christie emerged from the room first. Her hair was tangled and wet with sweat that dripped down her forehead. She exited through the restaurant and entered her awaiting vehicle without concern for the sights seen by or the thoughts made by her trusted security detail. The ride back to the Vice President’s mansion was silent as Christie, again, stripped nearly nude to change back into her cerulean blue cocktail dress and then applied a new layer of cosmetics to her face to hide any visible traces of her extramarital transgressions.

Aside from the pleasure gained from her covert appointment, Christie had also obtained confirmation that plans to elevate her husband to the Presidency were still moving forward. Christie’s post-coital pillow talk with Jon-E was deliberate, serious, and constituted nothing less than treasonous conspiracy. Christie took joy in knowing that President Iglesias would be assassinated before the end of the weekend. Finally, it would be her turn to live in the White House. She could feel how close she was to realizing her goals, and it excited her immensely.