My job, if you could call it that, is to keep track of the lobbyists who flit in and out of here all day long, to note their comings and goings, to find out who exactly they are and who they work for, and the relationships and conflicts between their own personal beliefs and the people they represent, the kind of information that can be incredibly useful in surviving, and thriving, in this environment.

My name is Dennis. Unlike my boss, the Senator, I am not the kind of guy women normally give more than two looks, and certainly not the type they throw themselves on with complete abandon. Forced to survive on my wits alone I have become a patient and persistent seducer, a master of the challenge, the raised eyebrow, the quizzical look, the obvious stare, the half smile and the pointed ignoring.

I had not been here very long when one particular lobbyist caught my eye, a Presbyterian minister by the name of Erin; the kind of high-cheekboned, freckle-skinned, laughing-eyed, short straight brown haired, long-leggitty thingy that I frequently pray will go bump in my night.

She was exactly what I look for in a woman, a little older, socially liberal, personally very controlled, convinced she's happily married, but hopelessly flirtatiously giggly around the right sort of man (the Senator), and curious around the wrong sort (namely me). A caged tiger. A woman with a secret need to hunt, to strike, to rip flesh with her claws and her fangs. And I, I am the one who takes it upon himself to sneak in and unlock the cage door when the keeper turns his back.

This one, however, had a challenging keeper. I'd seen her with her husband once at some black-tie-and-martini politically-necessary fundraiser. He looked like the Senator, only more so, but without the quiet spiritual side; a huge trim muscular square-jawed Australian surfer-dude doctor no less. The kind whose looks alone make women powerless. Especially her. Around him, she was like melted ice cream. The caged tiger was nowhere to be seen.

One fine April day two years after I started working on the job and her, Erin stopped in front of my desk. I looked up, startled. She was looking flushed and thrilled as she usually did after one of her 30 second flirting opportunities with the Senator, and she was staring at me as though I were a giant mouse. I stared back. She asked if I wanted lunch. I smiled my biggest smile. Curiosity always gets the better of the cat.

Lunch was fun. We actually had a great deal in common, and some that we didn't have in common I finessed. I stared deeply into her eyes, I did a lot of accidental touching, I dropped some hints of compliments, and mostly just let her talk, then suddenly glancing at my watch I yelled "gotta go" and sprinted back to the office.

The next day she wanted more. I put her off until the day after. By the second week she was asking me out of habit. The third week we went to my apartment to eat. By the fourth week we were forsaking food and heading straight for my bed the second we were in the apartment door. Sometimes we didn't make it further than the living room couch, or the floor of the hall, or even the inside of the apartment door, before she was grabbing me and kissing me hard. Some days, for a change of pace, she would walk me to her van, drive me to the river, and sit in the front seat talking, though even on those days we would sometimes end up making out in the back seat.

I am by nature cautious, not wanting to take her too fast, but she was rabid. She was blossoming. Her skirts were shorter, her heels were higher, her blouses were more revealing. Her flirting became intentional. I loved watching how the Senator was noticing her more. Usually he's very mindful of the existence of his wife, even when she's far away at home, but Erin, Erin was suddenly distracting him. It turned me on knowing that she was in there flustering him, and then coming out and sneaking away to fuck me. I loved fucking her. I loved the idea of her being fucked, just as I both enjoyed kissing her and enjoying the idea of her being kissed, of getting to watch her being kissed. Lying in my bed I loved listening to her fantasies, of the ways she wanted me, and her husband, and the Senator, and strange men who whistled at her on the street. I encouraged her fantasizing, I encouraged her flirting. I reveled in it. She seemed not to believe I meant it. But I did. I really did. Besides, as much as I found myself loving her in spite of myself, I knew deep down that I didn't own her, that nobody owned her, and that if anybody had a right to be jealous it was her husband.

One afternoon as I was fucking her flat on her back on my living room couch I started to talk to her about the Senator. "You want the Senator, don't you? You want him fucking you like this, you want to blow him you want to ride him you slut!" She screamed when she came and scratched me bad, apologizing profusely and bandaging me up before we headed back to work.

I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I didn't know if she was busy, or avoiding me, or what. But then all of a sudden she was there, blowing past me, blowing me a kiss, into the open door of the Senator's office. She was in there longer than usual. I could hear them talking. I put off lunch, waiting for her. Finally they emerged together. The Senator told me they were going to lunch, and I just sat there flabbergasted. The man doesn't do lunch. But there they were, strolling out the door together. Twenty minutes later they were back, carrying lunch with them, back into his office again. I could hear them talking again, just barely. I wondered what the hell was going on. He was due on the floor in fifteen minutes.

And then the door closed.

In the two years I'd been working for him he had never, ever, ever, closed his office door. I waited. The voices had stopped. I was alone in the outer office, the only one who hadn't gone to lunch. Alone with my lust. Alone with my fear. I sat. I watched the clock. The minutes stretched. The hour hand reached 1. He was due on the floor. Dare I knock? The door opened. The Senator rushed by, grabbing papers off his legislative aide's desk, into the hall, almost knocking over the receptionist returning from lunch.

Out came Erin. She winked and gave me a little come-hither tilt of her gorgeous head. I waited 2 minutes, then followed her into the hall. We walked in silence, her leading, me following. We walked to the garage and entered her van. She sat, smiling quietly, before driving to the river and parking. We unfastened our seatbelts and turned to face each other.

"What happened?" I finally asked.

"Well...." she drawled out slowly.

I waited. "You are such a tease. Go on."

She took my hands in hers and told me the story. "I went into see him. He seemed engrossed, and distracted. I asked him if he was OK. He said yes at first, but then he started talking. I just listened, and looked at him. I told him how much I admired him and how much I had wanted to spend time with him. He told me he admired me too, and how great it was to talk to me. I asked him if we wanted lunch. We went to the cafeteria, but people kept bothering him, so I asked him if he really wanted to spend our time together in public, and he said no. We grabbed a sandwich and came back upstairs. We went back into the office and sat in two chairs at the conference table. I pulled my chair around next to his and leaned in close. I told him how much I had fantasized about spending time with him, how I always imagined him closing the door and clearing off the desk, or sneaking into his house and waking him up with my mouth on his cock. He told me how much he had thought about me since the first time he saw me, how he admired my energy and my spirituality and my sexuality, the aura I gave off, the good vibrations I transmitted. I leaned even closer. I was wet. My nipples were hard and I knew he could see them, but all he was looking at were my eyes. I asked him if he could read my mind. It didn't take more than that. He didn't wait for more hints. He didn't hem and haw, or ask clarifying questions. He reached out. He grabbed my arms, and french kissed me."

I sat, in stunned silence. Happy for her. Turned on. Jealous. "So was it as good as you anticipated?" I finally asked, as jovially as I could muster.

Erin leaned closer, stared intently into my eyes, and clasped my hands even tighter. "Dennis," she whispered, "it was better. It was much, much better"