Two Years Earlier….
It was a bitter cold February night in Washington. Washington D.C was covered in snow, leaving the normally bustling capital hushed. But the palpable feeling of excitement still permeated in the air. The Grant administration, newly ushered in on a tidal wave of excitement was in its honeymoon phase. And it was perfectly understandable why. The Grant family, good-looking, young and photogenic had generated a level of interest from the media that had not been seen since the Kennedy years.
The proverbial cherry on the cake was what had been going on at the Trowbridge House, one of the townhouses apart of the Blair House. It was President Grant's 45th birthday and anyone who was anybody was invited. It was a White Tie event, something that had become rare in the past decade (his predecessor had been a complete stiff). Hollywood celebrities (ones who were just as enamored with the new president, but were not in sync with his politics) were there as well as CEOs, former heads of state and the political elite.
Another thing that had made the event even more exclusive was its location. The Blair House was to act as a guest house for former Presidents visiting Washington but upon the First Lady's insistence, it was being used for the President's party. After all, it was much more luxurious and suitable for an event of this caliber. Not to mention, the basement after years of restoration had been redecorated into a beautiful ballroom. Perfect for 200 guest.
Olivia Pope was seated in the backseat of a government black Lincoln Navigator, dressed to the nine's for the President's event. This is the first time since her cotillion about 15 years ago that she had worn white gloves. She was dressed in an elegant white backless gown, made out of buttery silk with a long train. It was a vintage 1950s gown that had belonged to her grandmother that she had tailored. She pulled a compact mirror out of her clutch and reexamined herself. Her hair, a sweeping chignon was still holding up well as was her make up…she wanted to look good for the president.
"Ma'am, we are here." The driver announced, causing Olivia to taking in a deep breath. She looked out the tinted windows seeing the gorgeous townhouse. But at the foot of the stairs, were the press, snapping away and waiting for people to arrive. She threw her matching bolero jacket over her shoulders to guard her form the cold and waited for the driver to open the door for her.
When the door opened, she was briefly blinded by the flashing lights.
"Ms. Pope, Ms. Pope…." They yelled. There had to be about 100 or more photographers. She could barely see, but trying hard not to trip, there was snow everywhere and the lights form their bulbs were completely blinding. But before she knew it, there was a warm arm wrapped around her steering her safely toward the entrance. She looked up to see a familiar Secret Service guard, blond and freckled helping her.
"Thanks Tom", she whispered to him as they made their way into the warm house.
He smiled at her and gave her a brief nod. Tom was one of the president's personal detail. He should probably be stationed inside.
He sent him out here for me. Olivia thought, smiling to herself.
"Right this way ma'am" he said, guiding her down a plush hallway with velvet halls, toward a gilded elevator. Tom pushed the button with the arrow motioning down, and motioned for her to enter first.
"Thank you, Tom." She said kindly. Olivia always admired Tom. After all, he was typically the agent on standby when she and the President were together. Whether it was late night visits to her apartment or their secret rendezvous on the Grant Cape Cod compound a few weeks ago. He had been with them since the campaign so there was an unspoken understanding between the President, Olivia and Tom about how to arrange these things.
The elevator dinged along and finally reached the basement. The door opened to reveal a party in full swing. The ballroom was large, with Jeffersonian style architecture. It had a beautiful high dome ceiling and a magnificent marble dance floor. There were elegant tables, covered in linen table cloth and beautiful ornate gold centerpieces everywhere, surrounding a dance floor.
An elderly man dressed in tails, who she knew to be the White House usher, lead her to the table at the head of the room. As she got closer, all she could think as she saw the President, holding court at the table she was apparently to sit at, was:
Dear lord, how did you create a man so damn good looking?
She could only see him from about waste up because he was sitting but he was dressed in white tie. His hair was coifed (as usual); his shoulders looked broad in what appeared to be a tuxedo jacket with tails. He looked like a movie star from the 20s.
"Hello everyone." Alerting everyone to her arrival. The President seemed to be telling a good story because the whole table was laughing. The table consisted of the First Couple, Cyrus Beene, her friend and White House Chief of Staff, his partner, James, Vice-President Sally Langston (peculiar seating choice, but probably an effort for the President and her to get along) and her Chief of Staff, Billy Chambers. All eyes turned to her. And they all looked stunned.
"Wow, well, Olivia if I knew you were going to get so dressed, I would have tried a little harder." Mellie said jovially. Her face looked amused but her eyes told a different story.
"Sorry, I hope I'm not overdressed." Olivia said smiling, winking at Fitzgerald. His face spreading into a Cheshire grin.
"Ha! Leave it to Olivia to make us all look like crap." Cyrus said, being the gentlemen that he was, helped Olivia get seated. She removed her jacket, draped it on the chair and joking said
"Eat your heart out boys". The whole table roared with laughter. She chuckled at her own joke, never taking her eyes of the president.
"Oh, believe me, we are" Billy said jokingly. "Seriously, I envy the son of a bitch who gets lucky enough to pick you up tonight."
The table roared with laughter again. But Olivia could see the Fitzgerald had not been able to take her eyes off her…
Jackpot. She thought to herself. Tonight was going to be fun…
Fitzgerald Grant could not stop staring at Olivia all night. Five courses, many drinks and even dancing with almost every woman in his administration later, he could not concentrate on anything else but Olivia's beautiful body in that dress. He kept envisioning the smooth silk on his fingers, and wondering if she was naked under her dress, if she could even fit anything under something that looked like it was painted onto her hourglass frame…
He was having a good time, hobnobbing with old and new friends but he had better things on his mind. The Marsalis brothers, the surprise musical guest, thanks to Mellie, were playing some of their greatest hits and had kept most of the guest on the dance floor. Even the Dragon Lady as he liked to call his VP had let her hair down and was swing dancing with what looked like Robert De Niro.
Olivia was standing away from the dance floor with a champagne flute in her hand. She had been dancing all night so her hair was coming apart a bit, a few strands grazing her lovely shoulders. Her eyes looked a little glassy. She had been drinking…
He walked up behind her, leaned in close to her ear and whispered softly, "Hey kid".
She shrieked with delight, turning around and smiling widely at him. She gave him a little smack on his shoulder.
"Don't do that! You scared me." She said laughing.
"Whatever you say…" he winked at her.
"You look good, Mr. President" she said playfully. Fitz could feel himself getting warm.
"Look who's talking" he said, his voice getting deep. She took a swing from her champagne flute and put it down on the table behind her. As Olivia turned around to put the glass down, he swore she stuck her shapely bottom out to entice him. She turned around; her eyes heavily lidded what appeared to be unbridled lust and too much champagne. She stood on her tip-toes, brought her lips boldly to his ear and whispered seductively:
"Let's get out of here so I can show you how good looking you are…"
They had successfully snuck out of the ballroom unnoticed and made it from the basement through a pathway into Blair House. They had made it into one of the ornate guest bedrooms drunk with lust, kissing passionately as they made their way to the bed, still clinging to one another.
Fitz's hands were running all over Olivia's body, alternating between lustfully grabbing her ass, cupping her breast. Olivia was running her hands through his hair, messing up his coif haired. She broke the kiss to undress him.
"God…Liv'" Fitz said, his voice overcome with longing. He pinned her down not being able to take it anymore. He pulled of her dress, as fast as he could without ripping it, revealing she was wearing nothing but a lacy white thong. He cupped her breast and buried his head in her neck, sucking the area behind her neck, triggering Olivia to moan. He could feel her wiggling around underneath him.
"Fuck!" she said, grinding her hips into him. He could feel himself harden.
He kissed down her body, hungrily kissing her breast, her stomach all the way down to her heat. From his vantage point, she could see her face, overwhelmed with pleasure. She was breathing heavily, calling his name….
Two hours later...
Fitz and Olivia had lost track of time. But they did not care. Olivia could not contain herself. She was lying on her back, with Fitz on top of her. He was such a good lover it was impossible for her to even process anything properly. Her body was slick with sweat, every inch of her skin on high alert as he masterfully rolled his hips into her. She could feel herself getting close to climax. His head was buried him her hair, whispering sweet things over and over again.
"Ah…ah…oh don't stop baby! I'm so close." She said moaning. "You feel soooo good….Don't stop."
His lips met her mouth, kissing her passionately. She knew it was to shut her up. They could not make too much noise. She loved the feeling of him, so strong and big inside of her, she was torn between wanting to release and wanting to prolong this feeling for as long as she possibly could.
She broke the kiss, throwing her head back, her toes curling as he purposefully slowed down.
"Fuck Fitz! I'm….I'm….." Her body was going haywire, her hips bucked. She could feel herself coming apart at the seams like she always did. She had lost count as to how many times it had been…
They both reached their peak at the same time, leaving them breathless and covered in glistening sweat. He stayed on top of her, softly laying kisses on her face as they attempted to recover.
"Wow" Olivia breathed.
"I know how you feel" Fitz said softly, looking into her eyes. He looked so sexy, his face covered in sweat, his hair, curly and wet. His grey eyes hooded. He looked content.
"We should be getting back soon…" she said, the rational part of her brain taking over.
"Yeah we should."
And with that, they regretfully peeled away from one another, and got dressed. When they were done, they locked lips passionately for the last time. But before they could get carried away, Olivia pulled away.
"Hey!" Fitz said laughing as they made their way out of the room. "What's that?"
She laughed shaking her head as they made it down the hall and into an elevator.
"I know how you are, we start kissing and you won't stop."
"Yeah right, like you would." He said with a playful slap to her ass.
"Will…you..stop!" she said smiling. The elevator dinged open, revealing a young brunette in a red dress. Olivia recognized her from around town. Julia Lopez, a Time political magazine reporter. Damn it!
Julia was tired and sick of hobnobbing with celebrities…..she had an appointment with Billy Chambers for an interview in the morning. Her boyfriend, Derek, wanted to stay but she didn't care. She was going home. And besides the dress she was wearing was way too tight. She shuffled disgruntled to the elevator. But as soon as it opened, it revealed one of the strangest sights…
The President of the United States, looking a bit sweaty, playfully…almost too playfully bantering with his Deputy Communications Director, Olivia Pope.
That was weird, She thought as she they walked out the elevator and she walked in. She had barely seen them all night? Come to think of it, she had not seen them since the room had been buzzing about how gorgeous Olivia Pope had looked when she arrived. But looking at her in the elevator, she looked like she had been running a marathon, her hair was a little messy and her eye makeup was a bit smeared.
Why were they just coming back to the party now?
And then a strange thought popped in her head….her reporter instincts were on high alert.
Why is the birthday boy hanging out in an elevator with his damn subordinate?