Alphas – Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Member of Parliament for Dentham East.

Harry was seeing double. He put the report down and rubbed his eyes. The good citizens of Dentham could go fuck themselves. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back in his chair. Rose, his PA, poked her head round the door.

“Oi! Wake up!”

“I’m thinking.”

“Well, remember you’ve got Jim Newsome at three – the Education and Employment Bill. He’s bringing the witch with him.” She meant Dame Belinda White, effectively the head of the Department for Education. Rose had worked there a few years back. She wouldn’t talk about the details, but Harry knew there was no love lost between the two women. He stretched his arms and yawned.

“Jesus! What a sight.”

Ever since he’d asked her to run his office, she’d started bossing him about. Still, he didn’t know what he’d do without her. He lumbered out of his seat and turned to the window. He could see his reflection in the glass, a bit pudgy around the middle but not bad for a man pushing sixty. Traffic zipped back and forth across the bridge while tourists took pictures of each other in front of the gothic monstrosity that was the Palace of Westminster. The hands of Big Ben showed 2:45. Rose was right – he needed to wake up.

“Get that new intern, what’s her name – Clara? In here will you.”

Rose looked doubtful.

“It’s her first week.”

“Call it part of her induction.”

Rose shook her head and left the room. He walked around his desk to the meeting area. Five wide club chairs were arranged in a circle with side tables between them. In the corner, half a dozen thick foam cushions were stacked on top of each other. He grabbed one and then picked the chair facing the door, placing the cushion against the seat-back so he’d be perched at the front. He sat down and spread his legs wide.

Clara appeared in the doorway. Maybe nineteen? She wore a skinny black top and carefully distressed jeans with no knees. Her dark brown hair was drawn back from her face. Pale skin, dark eye make-up and burgundy lipstick gave her a kind of punk look. He was getting hard just looking at her. Her smile faltered as she saw how he was seated. She looked ready to bolt.

“Come in Clara, grab a cushion.”

She didn’t move for a moment. Then reluctantly shuffled into the room and picked up a cushion from the pile.

“Plonk it down there will you.”

He pointed between his legs to the floor in front of the chair. She dropped it in front of him.

“Sit on it.”

She sat cross-legged on the cushion. Looking at the floor.

“Budge forward, as far as you can.”

She slid forward so that she sat between his legs. He swung his feet forward and then pulled them together, so that he encircled her body with his legs – over the years he’d found this to be an important signal that they weren’t going anywhere. She sat rigid in his grip. She was staring at the bulge in his trousers. He waited for her to begin. He was an old hand and had found they would usually accept their place. This one was being difficult. He stroked her hair and traced the delicate outline of her jaw with his fingertips. He could feel her shivering between his legs. His cock felt like iron. He thought he might tear a hole in his trousers. He moved his hands to his fly and unzipped himself. She flinched backward but he tightened his grip on her with his legs, squeezing hard to make the point. It was like training a horse – you had to show them who was boss.