A/N: I felt like writing something fun again. This is my take on the "Male-Character-of-choice walks in on CJ getting dressed for a White House function" cliché. I am almost finished with the final chapter of "Until We Bleed" and I will start crafting a sequel as soon as school lets up, which could be a while though. I want to thank you for sticking with me, and in the mean time I will be posting lots of little CJ/Jed drabbles and oneshots.
On another note, I just want to point out that the description of the report CJ reads aloud is from the series MI-5/Spooks.
Disclaimer: I don't own CJ, Jed or The West Wing. This is purely for fun, no money is being made.
Of Red Lips and Black Silk
He didn't register any of the signs. That's what he told himself when he stood in the doorway of the chief of Staff's office, listening to the faint strains of music featuring some obscure smoky voiced waif. The door was slightly cracked open so he hesitated before knocking; curious about the music she was playing. He did the unthinkable and peeked through the crack and he was arrested by the sight that greeted him.
CJ stood in her bra and black lace panties, barefoot, humming quietly to the song. She was stepping into her gown, the undulating black silk clinging to her figure and he wanted to avert his eyes, he knew he should avert his eyes but he just found he couldn't. He wasn't really joking when he told her that he wasn't comfortable working so closely with a woman. It wasn't so much that he had to work with a woman, but that it was CJ Cregg in all her quirky glory.
She slipped into the rest of the gown but was struggling to zip it up herself. He remained deadly still, in fear that she'd turn around and find him ogling her. But she didn't turn around. Several seconds went by as she struggled in vain to close her zipper, arms turned out at a weird angle. He almost chuckled when he heard her curse beneath her breath.
Finally, she sighed and gave up, taking a few breaths to calm herself. It was then when he fumbled at the door and gave himself away.
"Sir!" CJ cried out in surprise.
He couldn't have been more discomfited if he tried. He was aware that his jaw was working but no sound was coming out and that she was looking at him, holding up her gown which was still completely undone in the back.
He pushed the door further open, stepped in and then shut it quickly so Charlie or Fiderer wouldn't barge in and make assumptions.
"I heard the music." He offered lamely. This—from the man who'd definitively shown he was NOT Uncle Fluffy. He approached her tentatively.
"I'm sorry, I would have changed in the bathroom but I didn't want to take a chance with this dress," She motioned downward with one hand. He was compelled to admire her again and he was acutely aware that he was blushing.
"I heard you cursing, Claudia. I don't know what this dress has ever done to you. Other than possibly breaking the bank."
She softly snorted at his quip.
"Let me help you."
Without protest, she turned around to let him finish the zipper. He took his time with it. He didn't want to snag the exquisite fabric was what he told himself while trying to ignore the even more exquisite sensation of brushing the skin of her back with his fingers.
When he was done, she faced him again with darkened eyes and a sparkling diamond necklace in her palm.
"Will you fasten this for me too?"
He was truly damned. He watched her bend at the knees slightly so he could comfortably put the necklace on her.
"This is far too big to be real." He muttered. Perhaps it was the music, or his recent behavior, but she found that she had no objection to playing right off his energy.
"The same can be said for a lot of things, sir." The honorific didn't at all detract from her sultry tone. He closed the clasp but allowed his fingers to graze her skin again, this time he brushed them over her nape which was conveniently bare on account of her loose French twist.
"We should get going, Mr. President."
"Yeah. Do I look alright?"
She assumed he was asking her because Abbey wasn't around at the moment and wasn't attending this party.
"I thought Debbie already straightened you out."
"I want to know what you think about my tie."
"Some people joke that you couldn't choose your underwear without a second opinion."
"Want my opinion on the ones you're wearing right now?"
She appeared scandalized. Secretly, she was alight with pleasure.
"You were looking even then?"
"You're a brilliant lady Claudia but I guess no one's ever taught you the concept of locking a door."
"And I suppose no one's ever taught you to respect a lady's privacy."
They were both a tad breathless by the end of their exchange. CJ fidgeted with the cocktail ring on her right hand.
"You should go ahead, sir, they'll be waiting for you. I need to touch up my lipstick."
He nodded wordlessly and made to leave. Just before he opened the door back to the Oval, he looked at her again.
CJ opened her compact mirror and applied a thin layer of red lipstick. She noticed that he was still staring and was about to kick him out so he wouldn't be late but he crossed the room so rapidly she didn't have time to say anything.
He reached up and brushed the corner of her mouth gently. She knew her lips parted involuntarily at his touch, and his eyes smoldered in response.
"There was some lipstick there."
"Thank you," She breathed her reply.
When he was announced upon arrival at the party, he half heartedly waved and greeted people. Red lips and black silk burned bright in his mind.
It was around midnight when things wound down. He went back to the Oval to read a forty page brief on Iran's possible purchase of plans for nuclear triggers. He sent Debbie home, Charlie had to leave early to have a late dinner with Deena.
He sat at the Resolute desk with the report lying open before him. Words blurred together. Minutes passed. He read and re-read, he couldn't retain anything no matter how he tried. He slumped back in his chair in resignation as his thoughts wandered back to the woman next door.
He knew she was still in there. Probably going over tomorrow's schedule and the exact same report he'd been reading but in her case it would be the third time she's looking it over and she probably had it memorized by now.
He didn't know why but he found himself approaching the door again. It was decidedly closed this time. The president stood at the door, a thousand images flooding his mind of what she could be doing in her office, each more scandalous than the next.
When she was his Press Secretary the danger was less obvious. She was tucked away in her office in the outer rim of his turf. If CJ needed to see him, she'd have to come to the Oval accompanied by one of the spin boys or even Leo, depending on the occasion. Now she was right beside him only one door away. His second-in-command.
He entered her office without knocking, only to find her sitting on the edge of her desk with some papers in her hands. Her hair was a touch out of place, in a way that made him want to dismantle it completely. Her lips were still stained red.
"I saw Russell try to talk to you earlier." He said by way of greeting.
"Yeah. Amazing what a ball gown can do for a girl, isn't it?"
"You give too much credit to the dress."
"I should just show up in a paper bag one day."
"All the easier to put on—" He coughed a little. "And get you out of."
She looked up from the report at that.
"Sir, how much did you drink tonight?"
He bristled at the implication, "I was perfectly sober after dinner."
"Remember when you took Percocet and Vicodin at the same time-"
"I'll never live that down, will I?"
She laughed loudly at his pouting face.
They grew quiet but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. In the silence, the President settled into the chair opposite her.
She looked at the paper in her hands once more and face turned serious.
"I don't know if I'll ever get used to reading these things." She sighed and her eyes traveled over the words. "Have you seen this yet? It should have gotten to your desk today."
He rubbed at his eyes and nodded. "I picked it up a few minutes ago."
She continued, knowing that even if he had picked it up a few minutes ago, his body language declared that he hadn't been focused on it.
"Summarize it for me, Claudia." He just wanted to listen to her speak.
Another sigh and then she began.
"This is a CIA brief from which the intelligence was mostly shared by MI-5. They had a source in the Iranian embassy in London. The senior officer in charge of the operation seduced the Iranian Ambassador's wife in order to siphon information about Iran's nuclear program."
CJ paused and looked at him.
"Suffice it to say, things got ugly. The Ambassador found out about the affair and threatened to send her away. She kept seeing the officer despite her husband's anger, probably hoping he'd swoop in or something. Anyway, the British officer discovered that blueprints for American made nuclear triggers were being smuggled out of London and back to Tehran, but he failed to switch out the real triggers for fake ones."
"So now the Iranians have prototypes of our triggers." Jed concluded gravely.
CJ nodded.
"How the hell did such highly classified tech make its way across the Atlantic?"
"You know there are men who make a living by selling illegal weapons to our enemies. They're called arms dealers." She said wryly.
"Touché. Now I remember why I made you Chief."
The mood shifted from the somber topic of the brief back to familiar ground; their increasingly suggestive exchanges. CJ didn't want him to be sad tonight, not when he was sitting in front of her with his bowtie undone and his hair slightly ruffled. Frankly, she didn't want to be sad either so she put the report down, on her desk behind her.
"For my foreign policy experience, and because you like my legs."
"In fact I do like your legs CJ, I don't deny it."
"Just as much as I like your sass."
"You left the door open on purpose, didn't you?" The thought suddenly occurred to him.
She smirked.
The bantering commenced in the same tone as before the party. Jed's eyes trailed down her body slowly. He knew she was watching him watch her, the feeling was heady. She crossed her legs provocatively and he watched as the silk fluttered around her slim ankles. She noticed his fascination and decided to play upon it.
"What exactly is it that you like about my legs, Mr. President? Most people would say they're long but I think you'd be more creative than that."
She was mildly shocked when his hand traversed the distance between them and traced the silk along her thigh. He was so close to her, close enough for her to see the slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that she thought made him look distinguished and that much more attractive. She unconsciously flexed her thigh beneath his hand and watched his eyes move to her lap. He looked back up at her and leaned slightly more forward and she was preparing to accept his kiss when…
He abruptly moved away from her.
"Goodnight Claudia."
When the door closed, she moved a hand to touch her lips.