For the Record (Record #3)(53)
Author: K.A. Linde

The next part was what Brady added, and it made her blush every time.

“A particularly precocious young woman spoke during this colloquium regarding education policy. I asked her one question—what important factor from her research should I take back to D.C. regarding education? Her response stuck with me to this day. She said to treat students as individuals and not as numbers on paper. I could never agree more. I never want to treat any of you as a number, but rather as individuals. And the only way I can do that is to win another term in the Congress.”

The crowd cheered uproariously at the mention of him seeking another term. Brady waited until the crowd died down and then finished the remainder of the speech that his speechwriter had put together. It was brilliant. He was brilliant. He had the crowd at attention and she knew just by hearing the chants and seeing their enraptured faces that they were with him through and through.

Brady barreled down the stairs and scooped Liz up. He planted a kiss on her lips before releasing her. “You were incredible,” she told him.

“They loved your words, baby.”

“They love you!”

“We’re a team,” he whispered. She shivered at the way he said that and couldn’t keep from inwardly jumping up and down. That was nothing short of what she wanted with Brady.

“That was fantastic,” Heather told him. “Now let’s move on to the interview and soon enough you’ll be on your way to dinner.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Brady answered question after question regarding his reelection efforts. He smiled and stood for photos. On occasion she would even stand with him when interviewers asked if their photo could be taken together. Heather scowled every time it happened, but she could hardly deny them when Brady himself seemed eager for her to be standing there.

Liz excused herself from the donor meeting that Brady had to be in attendance for to work on her next article. Since her previous columns were still getting some good press, the editor had offered her a feature piece. He still tried to get her to use her real name, but after she had explained to him that she had no desire for it to show up in papers, he had stopped bothering her. He had started jokingly titling her papers Dear Congress, as a play on the advice columnist Dear Abby, and the name had stuck.

This was the first article that she had written where the idea had manifested from a conversation with Brady. It had taken hold while she was helping him write the speech he had just delivered, where the emphasis was on the individual rather than the masses. She hoped that it didn’t align too closely with his speech, and she might even have him take a look at it just to be sure. In the meantime she just needed to get something down. She couldn’t fix a blank page.

“Knock-knock,” Brady said, appearing in the open doorway.

“Hey,” she said with a smile.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Dinner?”

He nodded. “I wish we were going straight home.”

“To bed?” She closed her laptop and stood.

“That works.”

“Do we have time for me to change?” She had been in this blue cotton shirtdress all day and she wouldn’t mind a change in appearance before they met with a lobbyist.

“Not much time.”

Liz sidled up to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’ll be quick.”

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Only when we’re in a crowded theater.”

“Tease,” she purred.

“No. If I was teasing,” he said, turning and pressing her back into the wall. His hand slid up her thigh and pulled it up around his hip. “I would tell you about how much I want to fuck you just like this.”

A moan escaped her lips and all she wanted to do was tug him closer.

“But I’m not a tease,” he said before stepping away from her.

Liz dropped her leg and stuck her bottom lip out. “Not nice.”

“Come on, baby. If you want to change out of that dress before dinner, we need to leave now.”

She threaded his tie through her hands and tugged him closer. “Two can play at this game, Congressman Maxwell.”

“I look forward to it, Miss Dougherty.”

They took the town car out to his house so Liz could change. She latched on to his arm when they pulled into the driveway. “Come with me?” she whispered.

He gave her a searching look. “We don’t have time.”

“Please?” she pleaded.

“Begging,” he groaned. She loved using his weaknesses against him.

Brady followed her out of the car and spoke briefly to the driver before following her inside and up into his bedroom. She plucked a green strapless dress out of the closet and a pair of nude pumps.

“You requested my presence?” he asked, walking toward her.

“Stand right there and don’t move.” She must have sounded convincing enough, because Brady stopped and did as she told. “You can look but not touch.”

He arched an eyebrow, but made a big show of stuffing his hands into his pockets. If he could slam her into walls and turn her on then she could certainly do the same to him.

Ever so slowly, Liz started turning in a circle so that he could feast his eyes on her body. Her hands went to the buttons on her dress and from top to bottom she plucked each one open. By the time she reached the last one, Brady had taken two steps closer to her. She could see the desire on his face.

She turned her back on him, shaking out her blond curls, and then dropped the dress over her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, leaving her nearly naked from the behind save for her baby-pink bra and matching silk thong. She heard Brady suck in a breath behind her and she couldn’t help but smirk.

Her hands reached behind her and undid the hook and eye that released her breasts from the bra. She tossed it to the ground behind her at Brady’s feet and then slowly turned back to face him. He had moved forward another few feet. This time his expression didn’t just hold desire; it was outright need. He looked ready to pounce on her, but she held her hand up.

“Uh-uh. Look. No touch,” she cooed.

His breathing was increasingly ragged as she continued to boss him around. She plucked the side of her thong like a guitar string. His hands twitched in his pockets as if he wanted to be the one doing that. Then she dragged the underwear down her thighs to the floor. She was left before him in nothing but her black heels.

“What do you think?” she asked, twirling.

“I think that you’ve teased long enough.”