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From: "Ann Douglas" <ann_douglas@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} AnnD"Morning Ritual" (1/1)   
Date: Sat,  5 Oct 2002 02:10:02 -0400
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	Morning Ritual
	by Ann Douglas

	Broad beams of sunshine filtered through the
thick frames of the large bedroom window as the
short haired brunette rolled over in her bed. The
warmth of the rays spread across the room, washing
across the face of the forty-eight year old as she
reluctantly left the arms of Morpheus and returned
to the real world.

	"This had got to be a record,"  Sandra Jessica
Kent said to herself as she opened her eyes and,
looking at the digital clock on her night table, noted
that an entire night had actually passed without her
having her sleep interrupted.

	In the four and a half months since she had
taken over her new position, Sandra had only managed
to have twenty-nine nights of uninterrupted sleep.
True, a number of those disturbed slumbers had
merely been early wake ups, but there had been more
than enough of them for her to appreciate those long
ago days when she could afford the luxury of sleeping
in.

	"Well, you wanted to be able to play with the
big boys,"  Sandra reminded herself as she pulled back
the covers and sat up.  That phrase had been one
she'd told herself nearly every day since she was
approached by her predecessor two years ago and
asked to join his team.

	That request, would be destined to be one of
his more controversial decisions, one that few of his
associates agreed with.  But Jim Forrester was
nothing if not his own man, and once made, the
decision stood.

	Of course his associates and backers might've
fought harder to change his mind if they could ever
have imagined that Sandra would actually wind up in
the number one spot.  Yet, in those days when all
seemed to be going their way, who could've believed
that the former All State Running Back, who was
actually eighteen months younger that Sandra and in
great shape for a man his age, would just drop dead
one fall morning when a tiny artery in his brain burst.

	After they have carried him to his rest, the
associates would've given almost anything to have
been able to send Sandra packing and back to the
California University that Jim had rescued her from.
But the system didn't work like that, and as much as
they disliked the idea of her being in charge, there
was little they could do about it.  Jim's job was too
important to leave empty while people debated about
a successor.  The men who had written the ground
rules had decided that a long time ago.

	Rising to her full five foot seven height, Sandra
stretched her body, wiping away the last vestiges of
sleep.  As she did, her eyes surveyed her environment.

	The quarters that came as a perk of the job
were certainly a long way from the run down studio
apartment that she had shared with her husband back
when they'd first married right out of college.
Personally, she'd have been just as happy to have gone
on living in her old house, but people around here were
big on tradition.

	The memory of her husband drew her attention
to the empty space on the other side of the full sized
bed.  George Kent had died four years before and for
a time, Sandra had no interest in filling that void in
her life.  Now, after time had helped heal the jagged
hole in her life, the constant demands on her time
seemed to always take precedence over any personal
life.

	"Well you wanted to play with the big boys,"
she echoed in her head once more.  Of course, why
was it that so many of those big boys also managed to
get a little on the side when they wanted.

	Walking across the plush tan carpet, Sandra
stepped into a bathroom that was just as spacious and
opulent as the bedroom.  At times, it all seemed a bit
much, but this room at least contained a walk in
shower that the former History Professor had come
to love.  It was her refuge from the world, a chance
to step away from the worries and pressures of the
job.

	Undoing the simple blue pajama top she wore,
one of her husbands that she had saved, Sandra stood
topless in front of the large wall mounted mirror.  The
woman looking back at her in the reflection looked
pretty good for her age, she thought.  She'd put on a
few pounds over the last few years, but nothing too
drastic.  In fact, she could name a half dozen of her
friends who would kill to be in as good a shape as she
was.

	As she finished taking stock, Sandra ran her
hand across her small, firm breasts. Not that she'd
ever admit it, well at least not to anyone other than
George, but the forty-eight year old had always been
proud of her rounded mounds.  A pride that went all
the way back to her junior high school days in Kansas
when they had first begun to develop.

	Feeling both their softness and firmness,
Sandra smiled.  She remembered with some irony how
some of her more endowed classmates used to make
fun of her small breasts.  Comments that didn't
bother her then, or now.  In fact, how many of those
big boobed tormentors could say that their breasts
were in as good shape as they were twenty-five years
before.

	Absentmindedly, her slender fingers caressed
her small pink nipples, feeling them grow hard at her
touch.  It had been a long time since they had been
touch by any hand but her own.

	The misty cloud of steam that began to cover
the mirror told her that the shower water, which she
had turned on a minute before, had already reached a
comfortable temperature.  Sandra never wore the
bottom of the pajamas, so it only took a moment to
slide off her panties and drop them in the hamper
before stepping into the shower.

	The splash of hot water against her skin from
the dual jets felt refreshing, washing away, at least
for the moment, the worries she carried in her head.
Filling both her hands with liquid soap from the
wall-mounted dispenser, Sandra began to soap herself
up.

	"Oh, that feels good,"  she thought to herself
as her soapy hands pressed against her flesh,
massaging her skin.

	More and more, it seemed like her time in the
shower was all that remained of her personal life.  It
was a pity, she always thought, that it couldn't last
longer.  A small sanctuary against the pressures of
her responsibilities and the chance to just relax and
remember what it was to be a woman.  But it was what
it was, and however brief, Sandra tried to make the
most of it.

	Her fingers caressed her breasts, playing with
her nipples, bringing them again to a hard attention.
Back in her college days, Sandra had once seen an
adult film in which a woman had large enough breasts
that she could suck her own nipples.  Remembering
how long it had been since someone had sucked hers,
the brunette felt a small bit of envy at the actress.

	Taking a deep breath, Sandra slid her hands
down her body, teasing the wet flesh as she went,
finally coming to rest against the graying but
carefully trimmed mouth between her legs.  Slender
fingers pressed inside of her, parting the folds that
protected her inner joys.

	More than half a lifetime's familiarity with her
own body allowed her to quickly bring herself to a
heightened state of sexual excitement.  Her fingers
massaged her clitoris, sending tiny bursts of pleasure
across her body as her other hand continued to play
with her soapy breasts.

	Memories of pasts loves filled her thoughts,
some long past, and one who had only recently sparked
her interest.  Unfortunately, circumstances being
what they were, she had been unable to act on that
desire to see if it might be reciprocal.

	"Oh yes,"  Sandra said to her imaginary lover,
pretending that the hands urging her to climax
weren't her own.

	The heat of her flesh was almost enough to
rival that of the water from above as the rising tides
of lust within her doubled, then trebled.  The world
beyond her glass enclosure faded away for the
moment, leaving only the reality of an onrushing
rapture.

	"Oh God, yes,"  Sandra said softly as her
fingers quickly moved in and out of her, the soft
ripples of pleasure now replaced by powerful crests.

	So lost in bliss was Sandra, that she didn't hear
the first two knocks on the outer door.  The third,
was too loud to ignore.  Already the urgency of the
day's business was trying to intrude on her moment of
solitude.

	"Go away!"  Sandra mouthed softly, knowing full
well that they wouldn't.

	She was so close.  No matter what the urgency
of the interruption, it would have to wait - at least a
few more seconds.  Sandra increased her efforts, her
climax close enough that she could taste it. Her heart
was racing like a jackhammer, her breaths shortened
to quick gasps.

	"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"  she cried out
triumphantly, the volume of her excitement tempered
even now by the need to maintain a certain decorum.

	Always afterwards, the grown woman found it
amusing that her Catholic school background always
came back to her at times like this.  It wasn't
something that the good Sisters at Saint Mary's
parochial school would've approved of, of that she was
sure.

	"Oh God!"  she called out, her voice growing
louder as she was unable to restrain herself any
longer.

	The orgasm that ripped her body was as intense
as she knew it would be, washing away the pressures
she carried in a way few men would understand.  It
was a secret she had first learned soon after her
thirteenth birthday.  Her legs felt weak beneath her
as she leaned back against the warm tiles.  But it was
a good weakness, filled with a pleasing satisfaction.

	Another, even louder knock, told her that her
brief escape had once again ended.  Reluctantly, she
shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.  As
she wrapped a blue terry cloth around her trim form,
she called out that she would be right out.

	Sandra took a few more moments to wipe clear
a small section of the mirror to check her appearance.
Then, tightening her wrap, she opened the door and
stepped back into her bedroom.

	"Good morning, Clara,"  she said to the tall,
impeccably dressed black woman who was waiting for
her.

	"Good morning, Ma'am,"  the forty-one year old
said.  "I'm sorry if I knocked too hard but I didn't
think you'd heard it the first time and you did say you
wanted to see this report the minute it came in."

	"It's okay, Clara,"  Sandra said as she took the
two page printout from her and quickly read it.
"Sometimes I think I'm my own worse enemy."

	Waiting for her boss to finish reading, Clara
glanced down at the half dozen multicolored folders in
her hand.  Each of them filled with items of interests
that had happened in various parts of the world.

	"It looks like it was a quiet night,"  Carla Martin
said as she scanned the summary sheet on top of the
folders.  "but the Secretary would like a few minutes
of your time before your first appointment if he can,"

	"Tell him he can join me for breakfast,"  Sandra
said as she handed back the two pages and stepped
over to the other side of the room where she took off
her robe and put on her underwear.

	"Very good, Madame President,"  the National
Security Advisor smiled as she pulled out a small cell
phone and made a discrete call to arrange the
meeting.

	 It always amazed her how refreshed the
President looked after her morning shower.  She
couldn't get that relaxed with only a fraction of the
responsibilities the President carried.  One of these
days, she had to find the right opportunity to ask her
how she did it.

	"Could you give me a hand for a moment, Clara?"
Sandra said as she stepped back toward her aide.

	"Of course, Ma'am."

	With that, Clara put down her folders and
stepped forward to help the President of the United
States zip up her dress.

END

Ann Douglas Web Page

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Ann_Douglas/www/

ASSTR Donation Page

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html

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