POV: Donna
Spoilers: None
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Some Say - Chapter Two A West Wing Story
by MAHC
As she placed the half-gallon of skim milk and box of Special K on the faded linoleum check out counter, Donna's eyes fell to the candy rack, placed strategically, she realized, for the most enticing impulse buys. Glancing at her nutritious purchases, she shrugged and mentally justified the Pay Day bar that she flipped up beside them. The clerk glanced at her once, but didn't comment. She looked around, waiting for her total, aware of the customers hovering impatiently behind her.
To the right was another impulse buy rack, this one stuffed with sensational tabloids proclaiming stories that only people who frequented the Quik Mart would fall for. Well.most people anyway. She chuckled as she learned from the headlines that Jesus Christ had recently been seen - on Mars. And a 30-pound baby was born to a woman in Alaska. Yikes! That had to hurt! But her laughter stopped abruptly at the words jumping from The Star: "Bartlet's Babe Revealed." Snatching the paper from the rack, she plopped it down to the irritated sigh of the clerk, who had apparently already rung up everything else.
On her way home that day, she remembered that her only breakfast possibilities involved a dill pickle or leftover Chinese. Neither really appealed at six a.m., so she had decided to zip into a convenience store for something a little healthier. At least the Pay Day had peanuts. Now she scrambled out, anxious to see what the article revealed. Throwing the plastic bag onto her front seat, she ripped the paper out and read more carefully. Flipping past the Jesus and mega-baby stories, she found it, a subtitle proclaiming "Jed Bartlet's Long-Term Affair with Co-worker."
What? The ridiculous article laid out an affair between the President and an unnamed staff member, claiming that they had carried on for years and were in bed even as Abbey Bartlet fell dead. Of all the stupid-
Rage boiled behind her eyes. How dare they! She cursed loudly, drawing upon a word she rarely used, but one that gave verbal satisfaction, at least for a moment. Who would print such horrible lies? Who would read them? But more importantly, who would believe them?
Someone would, she knew. There were always people who went to wrestling matches thinking it was all real, or fell for infomercials like they were news. Should they refute the accusation? Or simply not even acknowledge it? She wondered if C.J. had seen it. Knew Jed had not, especially since his days of zipping into the Quik Mart were over. Would he laugh about it? Maybe, but not the nasty detail accusing him of having sex with his mistress while his wife had a heart attack. No, he would not laugh about that part.
Later, as she showered, preparing for a quiet dinner with him, she decided just to show it to C.J. and let her make the call. She closed her eyes as the warm water ran down her body, imagining his fingers doing the same, and that was all it took. She was charged and ready for him.
Dinner was casual, no tuxedos tonight. To her delight, Jed wore jeans and an open collar shirt. She wore almost the same thing, except her shirt buttoned all the way down. Afterwards, they sat on the couch, his shoes kicked off and his legs propped on the low table in front of them. His arm stretched behind her and she leaned into him, her head on his chest. Slowly, she eased open the three buttons at his throat and gently rubbed the skin there.
"Mmmm," he acknowledged, taking a sip of brandy and offering her some from the same glass. She let the smooth liquid roll over her tongue, mellow and sweet. Before she had quite swallowed all of it, he leaned in, his lips soft on hers, his mouth tasting of brandy. They shared the remaining liquid and the heat of it rushed down her throat.
She anticipated that he would set down the glass and move over her, beginning their lovemaking for the night, but he just sat back, swirling the amber liquor.
"A penny for your thoughts?" she asked.
Surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. "Do people say that anymore?"
"Well, I do."
His mood tonight was quiet, pensive. It didn't worry her exactly, but she wondered what thoughts flickered in that brilliant mind. Now he did set the glass on the table, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The sigh that escaped him sent a chill up her spine. It was not a relaxed sigh; it was a sigh that preceded some uncomfortable subject.
"Donna," he said, gaze on his hands. "At my age and with my - condition - I can't afford to waste time."
Okay. That seems logical. What do you-She gasped as he slid off the sofa, turning with one knee on the carpet. Oh God! His hands, warm and strong clasped hers. His eyes, cool and blue, held hers. Her heart pumped wildly.
"Donna, I love you. I need you. And, God knows, I always want you."
She blushed, but his words were an electric current straight to her erogenous zones. She wanted him, too.
"Donna, I want - I want to marry you."
Oh - my - God! From the surprise on his face, she realized she had said that out loud.
He cocked his head. "Is that a yes or a no?"
Focusing on long-abandoned yoga classes to calm her breathing, she reached out to touch his face, to trail her fingertips over his jaw, up his cheek, finally threading through his hair. Her answer was, at first, non-verbal, as her lips touched his, her hand slid behind his head to pull him closer, her tongue pushed into his mouth, still tasting the smooth brandy. When she pulled back, she made sure he saw the love in her eyes.
Then she said quietly, "I love you, Jed Bartlet and I want to marry you and live with you and eat with you and - " Her gaze fell along with her hand to the bulge in his jeans. " - and right now I just want you."
She saw the glistening in his eyes, but the tears didn't fall. Taking her hand, he urged her from the couch and they walked together to the large poster bed. Gently, he laid her on it, his hands removing her shirt, her jeans. He paused to admire the view, then slid her bra and panties away from her body. Then, he climbed up, fully clothed, between her legs. Oh! Her nerves jumped in anticipation. Now his lips touched her softly, his tongue ran like velvet through the swollen folds. He took his time, slowing when she began to whimper. Oh, this was incredible! Her hips arched upward, trying to rub harder against him, but he pulled back, smiling, before he eased down again.
She was on fire, every nerve screaming, writhing. His fingers entered her and she felt herself going over. He knew what to do, flicking harder with his tongue and thrusting with his hand.
"Jed!
His name burst from her lips just as the pleasure burst between her legs, and she worried distantly that she moved against him too hard, but he didn't stop, not until long moments later when she gently pushed him away and allowed her shaking legs to relax.
He grinned at her, looking young and mischievous, obviously pleased with himself. Well, he had a right to be, she decided. He certainly deserved a reward for all that hard work. Pushing him onto the bed, she eased the shirt over his head, dragging her fingers down his chest and stomach toward the straining jeans. Opening the fly, she pushed his pants and boxers down, allowing the erection to stand out boldly.
She teased him as he had teased her, taking in just the head, licking around it. He arched off the bed, gasping, groaning. When she finally took him in deeper, his tortured moan rewarded her efforts, but she was not prepared for his strength to stop her and pull her on top of him.
"Donna," he said, voice full and sensuous, "I want to come inside you. I want to see your face."
She nodded, aroused again by his words and feel of him in her mouth. So she let him guide her, let him spread her legs, let him push into her inch by inch, until she ached for him to thrust. And then he did. Thrust in deeply and smoothly, letting himself pulse hard against her tight muscles. He pulled back, withdrawing almost completely, with only the tip still in. Another slow push in. Another pull almost out. She thought she would scream. She rotated her hips, trying to draw him in, trying to push the pace, but he was stubborn and made her wait. Finally, with a deep groan, he plunged in hard and deep, on and on, in and out, the pace pounding, and she was coming again, drawing him in.
"Donna!" he cried, arching into her. She felt the hot pulses, the warmth that spread inside her. Oh what a feeling that was! A feeling of belonging, of intimacy, of love. A feeling of total satisfaction.
He turned them and she lay on top of him for a long time, enjoying the masculine feel of his body beneath hers, wondering if they might wake later and start over. Those were usually the quiet, gentle times when their climaxes were so sweet and relaxing that it was almost like an afterthought. Maybe - she hoped, unaware when sleep overtook her.
She woke, not to his midnight caresses, but to a knock on the door. Jed was already up, wrapping his robe around him. Donna blinked that he didn't bother to hide their obviously intimate connection from the visitor. She pulled up the covers as C.J. Cregg entered.
If the press secretary was shocked at this situation, she didn't show it. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mister President."
Jed nodded impatiently.
She handed him a newspaper. "I think you should see this."
Oh no! Rising a little, Donna asked, "Is that The Star?"
Her eyes met those of her friend, and what she saw there took her breath. "No," came the reply. "It's the Washington Post."
Some Say - Chapter Two A West Wing Story
by MAHC
As she placed the half-gallon of skim milk and box of Special K on the faded linoleum check out counter, Donna's eyes fell to the candy rack, placed strategically, she realized, for the most enticing impulse buys. Glancing at her nutritious purchases, she shrugged and mentally justified the Pay Day bar that she flipped up beside them. The clerk glanced at her once, but didn't comment. She looked around, waiting for her total, aware of the customers hovering impatiently behind her.
To the right was another impulse buy rack, this one stuffed with sensational tabloids proclaiming stories that only people who frequented the Quik Mart would fall for. Well.most people anyway. She chuckled as she learned from the headlines that Jesus Christ had recently been seen - on Mars. And a 30-pound baby was born to a woman in Alaska. Yikes! That had to hurt! But her laughter stopped abruptly at the words jumping from The Star: "Bartlet's Babe Revealed." Snatching the paper from the rack, she plopped it down to the irritated sigh of the clerk, who had apparently already rung up everything else.
On her way home that day, she remembered that her only breakfast possibilities involved a dill pickle or leftover Chinese. Neither really appealed at six a.m., so she had decided to zip into a convenience store for something a little healthier. At least the Pay Day had peanuts. Now she scrambled out, anxious to see what the article revealed. Throwing the plastic bag onto her front seat, she ripped the paper out and read more carefully. Flipping past the Jesus and mega-baby stories, she found it, a subtitle proclaiming "Jed Bartlet's Long-Term Affair with Co-worker."
What? The ridiculous article laid out an affair between the President and an unnamed staff member, claiming that they had carried on for years and were in bed even as Abbey Bartlet fell dead. Of all the stupid-
Rage boiled behind her eyes. How dare they! She cursed loudly, drawing upon a word she rarely used, but one that gave verbal satisfaction, at least for a moment. Who would print such horrible lies? Who would read them? But more importantly, who would believe them?
Someone would, she knew. There were always people who went to wrestling matches thinking it was all real, or fell for infomercials like they were news. Should they refute the accusation? Or simply not even acknowledge it? She wondered if C.J. had seen it. Knew Jed had not, especially since his days of zipping into the Quik Mart were over. Would he laugh about it? Maybe, but not the nasty detail accusing him of having sex with his mistress while his wife had a heart attack. No, he would not laugh about that part.
Later, as she showered, preparing for a quiet dinner with him, she decided just to show it to C.J. and let her make the call. She closed her eyes as the warm water ran down her body, imagining his fingers doing the same, and that was all it took. She was charged and ready for him.
Dinner was casual, no tuxedos tonight. To her delight, Jed wore jeans and an open collar shirt. She wore almost the same thing, except her shirt buttoned all the way down. Afterwards, they sat on the couch, his shoes kicked off and his legs propped on the low table in front of them. His arm stretched behind her and she leaned into him, her head on his chest. Slowly, she eased open the three buttons at his throat and gently rubbed the skin there.
"Mmmm," he acknowledged, taking a sip of brandy and offering her some from the same glass. She let the smooth liquid roll over her tongue, mellow and sweet. Before she had quite swallowed all of it, he leaned in, his lips soft on hers, his mouth tasting of brandy. They shared the remaining liquid and the heat of it rushed down her throat.
She anticipated that he would set down the glass and move over her, beginning their lovemaking for the night, but he just sat back, swirling the amber liquor.
"A penny for your thoughts?" she asked.
Surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. "Do people say that anymore?"
"Well, I do."
His mood tonight was quiet, pensive. It didn't worry her exactly, but she wondered what thoughts flickered in that brilliant mind. Now he did set the glass on the table, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The sigh that escaped him sent a chill up her spine. It was not a relaxed sigh; it was a sigh that preceded some uncomfortable subject.
"Donna," he said, gaze on his hands. "At my age and with my - condition - I can't afford to waste time."
Okay. That seems logical. What do you-She gasped as he slid off the sofa, turning with one knee on the carpet. Oh God! His hands, warm and strong clasped hers. His eyes, cool and blue, held hers. Her heart pumped wildly.
"Donna, I love you. I need you. And, God knows, I always want you."
She blushed, but his words were an electric current straight to her erogenous zones. She wanted him, too.
"Donna, I want - I want to marry you."
Oh - my - God! From the surprise on his face, she realized she had said that out loud.
He cocked his head. "Is that a yes or a no?"
Focusing on long-abandoned yoga classes to calm her breathing, she reached out to touch his face, to trail her fingertips over his jaw, up his cheek, finally threading through his hair. Her answer was, at first, non-verbal, as her lips touched his, her hand slid behind his head to pull him closer, her tongue pushed into his mouth, still tasting the smooth brandy. When she pulled back, she made sure he saw the love in her eyes.
Then she said quietly, "I love you, Jed Bartlet and I want to marry you and live with you and eat with you and - " Her gaze fell along with her hand to the bulge in his jeans. " - and right now I just want you."
She saw the glistening in his eyes, but the tears didn't fall. Taking her hand, he urged her from the couch and they walked together to the large poster bed. Gently, he laid her on it, his hands removing her shirt, her jeans. He paused to admire the view, then slid her bra and panties away from her body. Then, he climbed up, fully clothed, between her legs. Oh! Her nerves jumped in anticipation. Now his lips touched her softly, his tongue ran like velvet through the swollen folds. He took his time, slowing when she began to whimper. Oh, this was incredible! Her hips arched upward, trying to rub harder against him, but he pulled back, smiling, before he eased down again.
She was on fire, every nerve screaming, writhing. His fingers entered her and she felt herself going over. He knew what to do, flicking harder with his tongue and thrusting with his hand.
"Jed!
His name burst from her lips just as the pleasure burst between her legs, and she worried distantly that she moved against him too hard, but he didn't stop, not until long moments later when she gently pushed him away and allowed her shaking legs to relax.
He grinned at her, looking young and mischievous, obviously pleased with himself. Well, he had a right to be, she decided. He certainly deserved a reward for all that hard work. Pushing him onto the bed, she eased the shirt over his head, dragging her fingers down his chest and stomach toward the straining jeans. Opening the fly, she pushed his pants and boxers down, allowing the erection to stand out boldly.
She teased him as he had teased her, taking in just the head, licking around it. He arched off the bed, gasping, groaning. When she finally took him in deeper, his tortured moan rewarded her efforts, but she was not prepared for his strength to stop her and pull her on top of him.
"Donna," he said, voice full and sensuous, "I want to come inside you. I want to see your face."
She nodded, aroused again by his words and feel of him in her mouth. So she let him guide her, let him spread her legs, let him push into her inch by inch, until she ached for him to thrust. And then he did. Thrust in deeply and smoothly, letting himself pulse hard against her tight muscles. He pulled back, withdrawing almost completely, with only the tip still in. Another slow push in. Another pull almost out. She thought she would scream. She rotated her hips, trying to draw him in, trying to push the pace, but he was stubborn and made her wait. Finally, with a deep groan, he plunged in hard and deep, on and on, in and out, the pace pounding, and she was coming again, drawing him in.
"Donna!" he cried, arching into her. She felt the hot pulses, the warmth that spread inside her. Oh what a feeling that was! A feeling of belonging, of intimacy, of love. A feeling of total satisfaction.
He turned them and she lay on top of him for a long time, enjoying the masculine feel of his body beneath hers, wondering if they might wake later and start over. Those were usually the quiet, gentle times when their climaxes were so sweet and relaxing that it was almost like an afterthought. Maybe - she hoped, unaware when sleep overtook her.
She woke, not to his midnight caresses, but to a knock on the door. Jed was already up, wrapping his robe around him. Donna blinked that he didn't bother to hide their obviously intimate connection from the visitor. She pulled up the covers as C.J. Cregg entered.
If the press secretary was shocked at this situation, she didn't show it. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mister President."
Jed nodded impatiently.
She handed him a newspaper. "I think you should see this."
Oh no! Rising a little, Donna asked, "Is that The Star?"
Her eyes met those of her friend, and what she saw there took her breath. "No," came the reply. "It's the Washington Post."