Obadiah's Journey (chapter 2)

“You know, Obadiah, you’re really too much of a gadget freak to work security.”

“And you’re a Luddite, Bill.  What’s your point?”  Obadiah did not bother to look up from his laptop to answer the older security guard on duty with him tonight.  A complicated array of cords, boxes, and connectors ran across the table between the monitors and Obadiah’s laptop.

“I just don’t see the point of all this.  You can simply watch the screens.”  Bill grumbled.

“You can watch the screens, Bill.  I’m working on my final project for my computer science class,” Obadiah explained patiently, silently thinking that his project was far more interesting than one for any class.

Bill grunted, “I’ll leave you to it, then.  Want anything from the snack machine?”

“No,” Obadiah paused before adding, “Thanks, though.”  With everything connected, he settled back in his seat to watch the monitors.  “Excellent timing,” he muttered to the empty room, “But the guts of this pair!”

He wasted only a moment shaking his head at the figures that appeared on the screen showing the interior of the capital dome.  A few clicks and several keystrokes later, the monitor showed footage of the capital dome Obadiah had captured earlier in the week.  The current scene was transferred instead to a video file on his laptop.


-           -           -

Violet paused at the top of the stairs, looking about the large open area between the interior glass dome and the exterior copper dome.  Numerous windows let in enough light that the area was gloomy, but not dark.  Jordan smiled at her from near one of the larger windows.

“Too bad an elevator isn’t included in the renovation plans,” Violet said, breathing deeply.

“You ought to work out more, Vi,” Jordan said, half-teasing.

Violet glared at him, “It’s not just the stairs.  The dome is still closed.  I had to be quiet!”

Jordan took several quick steps to her side, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and pulling her to him, “Is that really the attitude you want to take with me?”

“Um…no?” Violet offered quietly.

“Strip,” Jordan ordered.

Violet removed her suit jacket first, laying it neatly over the railing on the stairs.  Her skirt and blouse followed.  She hadn’t dressed for this scene, because the location was secluded enough to give them sufficient time to pull themselves together.  Still, her fingers trembled a bit as she unfastened her bra.  For some reason, it was more unnerving to remove her underthings than not wear them at all.  Her bra and panties joined the neat stack of clothing.

“You can leave that,” Jordan said, nodding to her garter belt and stockings.  “I want you over there, shoulders against the window.”

Violet stepped over to the indicated window.   A deep window well had her leaning far back to rest her shoulders against the mullion. The window sill was level with her hips, keeping her pelvis forward.  Moonlight shone through the window, leaving her face in shadow but highlighting the length of her body.

“Hands out, here,” Jordan directed.  Violet spread her arms towards the corners of the window, her hands grasping the window frame where he indicated.

“Simply beautiful,” Jordan said with a satisfied smile.  He picked up his crop, tracing the black leather over her ivory skin.  She took a shuddery breath, arching her back and offering her breasts to him.  He started there, raising red patches on her pale skin.

The crop moved down her body, coloring her tummy, her sides, her arms, her hips, and even between her legs.  She bit back a cry, managing only to whimper occasionally.  Her eyes closed tight, she gave her body over to him.

-           -           -

Obadiah pointed casually to the two suited figures captured by one of the capital hallway cameras, “Wonder who is working so late.”

Bill glanced at the screen, “Couple of suits, probably legislative staff.  Nothing to worry about there.”

“Wasn’t worried,” Obadiah shot back, “Simply curious.”

Bill took a closer look at the screen and chuckled, “Oh, the notorious senator and staff.”

“Notorious?”

“Don’t you follow politics at all, boy?  Ran on a ‘consenting adults’ campaign in the face of all those smear ads about their affair,” Bill nodded to the pair on screen.  “Gutsy, that one,” he added.

Obadiah took a longer look at the screen.  The gentleman wore an expensively tailored suit, the charcoal gray complimenting his dark hair.  He carried himself like a man used to being watched, a man with power.  The lady wore an immaculate skirt-suit, hers a lighter gray that would suit her dark hair and ivory skin.  She was in no manner submissive now, for all her face remained turned from the cameras.

Obadiah did not follow politics, so it was no great surprise that he recognized neither the individuals nor the campaign Bill thought so memorable.  But Bill found Obadiah’s curiosity amusing and refused to tell him anything more.  Obadiah spent the rest of a frustrating shift flipping through the legislative directory.