Thurston campaign headquarters, nestled in the center of downtown Chicago, in the heart of all the action, was usually dead silent at 11:30 p.m. Even though a political campaign was usually a 24-hour operation -- particularly in a position as high-profile as mayor of Chicago -- much of what went on after-hours took place outside of campaign headquarters and in the realm of 24-hour cable news and the Internet.
Simply put, Spencer had no qualms with bringing Jamie to headquarters for an after-hours romp. No one was around to catch them, so why not spice things up a little and give her a larger taste of the power Spencer himself was but inches away from? If she found that sort of thing sexy, it would prove advantageous to him.
Flipping on the lights, Spence glanced over his right shoulder with a grin. "Here it is," he said, turning to face Jamie and spread his arms. "Ground zero. Where roughly 84 percent of the action happens."
A red tie hung loosely from Spencer's white shirt. He hadn't yet changed out of his suit; Spencer spent so much time in it of late, he felt odd wearing anything else. Naturally, though, the Georgetown grad had no such qualms when wearing nothing at all.
Jamie smiled, looking around the office, picking up a framed photo from on top of a desk and setting it back down again. "And what about the rest of the, um, action? Where does that take place?" She had dressed up a bit, expecting Spencer to take her something more ... public. She tried to remind herself that their more fun times happened in private. Still, it was a shame no one else but Spencer could see her.
"Where's your desk?"
Spencer pointed to a room in the back left of the office, with its own door and window blinds. Spencer's name was etched on a black plaque to the right of the door. "I'm right back there," he announced proudly. "Got my own office, none of this cubicle bullshit all the nobodies get."
He waved dismissively at the rows of desks and computers and phones, sneering a little. Most of the people working in this office were mindless opportunists, not entirely convinced or even aware of what kind of campaign they were working for. Professional experience was what they were after, hoping to put the future mayor of Chicago's name on their resume and find a nice job somewhere after the election. Spencer wanted a nice resume, too; he just actually believed what Adam was selling everyone.
He led Jamie to the office, pulling the door open and flipping the switch. His office was bare bones when it came to decorations; all he needed were the computer, phone and a white dry-erase board where he kept track of all of Adam's public appearances. The following day called for a luncheon with the local teachers' union, followed by a press junket in front of the capital.
Next week, CNN would come calling.
"My home away from home away from home."
She took off her black jacket, revealing a slinky green halter dress. “I like it,” said Jamie, smirking mischievously. “It’s very you.” She put the garment on a hook on the wall before closing the distance between them, taking the bottom of his tie in her hand and leaning in so her lips were inches away from his.
“You’re the type of guy who always gets what he wants,” she told him, her blue eyes looking up into his dark ones. “But I know how to get what I want, too.”
Approaching Jamie, Spencer smiled and removed his tie. He flipped the garment over Jamie's head, pulling it against the back of her neck to pull her closer to him, his lips touching hers for the briefest of moments. "Do you now?" he teased, reaching behind her to close the blinds. He didn't want to risk anyone -- even if it was just a lowly janitor -- coming in and seeing them in his office like this.
"Well, why don't you show me?"
Jamie nodded before nipping his lower lip playfully. She put both hands on his shoulders and steered him toward the desk, planting brief kisses on his lips as she did so. Unbuttoning his shirt hastily, peeking behind him to make sure the surface was empty, she pushed him down onto the desk.
“So, how sturdy is this thing?” she asked as she straddled him, her palms still holding him down. It seemed to support their weight ... for now.
"I'm ... actually not sure," Spencer said, a sideways grin plastered to his face as his hands roamed along Jamie's hips. "But I'm suddenly dying to find out."
Outside, in the general area of the campaign office, Adam Thurston entered. He was late for a very important meeting with one of his most ardent supporters, and he'd forgotten to grab something from his office before attending the meeting. This supporter wasn't really aware of his impending presence on this night, but he figured their interests were aligned enough that they could arrange a mutually beneficial agreement.
Then again, if Adam could get away without being seen, he'd horde all the benefits for himself.
Walking into his office, and pulling a bundled cloth from his desk drawer, Adam turned out the light and glanced over the bulk of the office. A sight caught his eye, and Adam looked to his right with a frown. The light was on in Spencer's office. Why was he still here? It was almost midnight, and Adam was pretty sure Spencer had to study for midterms. That law degree wasn't going to get completed by itself.
With a shrug, Adam began walking toward the exit. Then he stopped, realizing he had something to ask Spencer.
She kissed him again, deeper this time as her tongue parted his lips. They tasted like the liquor store champagne they had consumed at her apartment. Her fingers worked on the fly of his dress pants as Spencer hiked up the hem of her dress. Jamie’s hips pressed against his, and the desk still held. “Good old American craftsmanship,” she grinned, pulling back so he could get a good view of her. Tugging off his shirt, she tossed it to the tiled linoleum floor.
Spencer growled into the kiss, pressing himself against Jamie as his hands worked feverishly on removing articles of her clothing. He'd leave her dress on, bunched up around her waist. Why waist time removing clothing completely, when it was so much quicker -- and sexier-- to be half-naked in the act of pure, lustful sex? Spencer wasn't trying to be tender or cute; he was going after what he wanted, and he didn't want to waste any time.
Adam turned the doorknob without knocking, pushing the door open and stepping into Spencer's office before stopping in his tracks. The sight of Spencer shirtless laying on the desk, a young, half-naked woman straddling him wasn't exactly what the mayoral candidate expected, and the shock took a few seconds to go away. Once it did, though, Adam folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat.
"Pretty sure this isn't what I hired you for," he said sarcastically with raised eyebrows.
Spencer raised up on his elbows, eyes wide as he felt his heart jump into his throat. Adrenaline turned into shock, which slowly morphed into fear. Spencer took extra care to keep his liaisons private, and seeing his boss catching him in various states of sex-related undress was disconcerting, to say the least.
"Mr. Thurston," he said, eyes darting about. "What ... what are you doing here?"
Jamie had the sudden feeling of a deer in headlights. “Oh my God.” She nearly got toppled by Spencer sitting up, and she hopped quickly to the floor before she ended up eating it, trying to simultaneously pull down her dress and hide the pair of panties that had currently taken up residence around one ankle. She felt her face burn red as she stepped behind Spencer, trying to deflect attention off of her.
The Republican mayoral candidate had nearly seen her boobs.
Adam chuckled, shaking his head. "Far be it for me to tell a young, 20-something guy who looks like I hired him out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue not to have sex," he said. "But do you really need to come here to do it? Are you that desperate to impress whatever panty-less girl you can? 'Oh, look at me, I have a nice office working for the guy who's running for mayor.'"
Spencer hunched his shoulder. "No, sir."
Adam stepped forward again, glancing at the girl for a second before staring a hole into the top of Spencer's head. His hands disappeared in his pockets. "If I lose this election, it will be because this city is full of horribly simplistic, idiotic liberals who don't even care about their own safety," Adam lectured. "It will not be because the media catches wind of the fact that I employ people who don't embrace Jesus and can't keep it in their pants!
"Is that understood?"
Jamie swallowed and bit her lip, hard, her eyes trained on the floor. She felt completely humiliated, and now Spencer might be losing his job, too. Being referred to as ‘whatever panty-less girl’ stung, too. She was dying to grab her jacket off the wall and put it on, but that would have meant crossing the room, and walking past Mr. Family Values. No thanks.
She wasn’t quite sure if she should say something. And what could she say? It was Spencer’s idea to come here tonight, but she had also brought up the idea of the desk ... her head was starting to pound trying to process it all.
Spencer nodded, unable to say anything that wouldn't sound stupid. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
"Good," Adam said, glancing at the girl once more. She wasn't bad; if Adam were about 10 years younger -- and not happily married -- he'd probably try to give it a go himself. But Spencer needed to be more careful. The media was like sharks circling a corpse hanging on for dear life -- just waiting for the slightest hint of blood to pounce. He wanted to give those vultures nothing. If he could, he'd bar them from the campaign completely.
"I need you to work the phones in the morning, get in touch with Senator Franklin," he added. "His endorsement would be huge for our chances."
Adam shook his head. "And for God's sake, do it in your own fucking room."
Closing the door behind him, Adam chuckled and shook his head again. Spencer was a good worker, plenty capable of helping run an efficient, successful campaign. Hell, Spencer might one day make a good elected official himself. This wasn't something worth firing Spencer over ... Adam just wanted him to be careful. Having sex at the campaign office -- no matter when it was -- would help no one.