The Intern

It was the kind of black tie event that is mandatory for the power elite in

Washington. The ambassador to Sweden was celebrating a new economic treaty and

high-ranking officials from the multi-national corporations benefiting most were

in attendance. Politicians who rely on contributions from the big companies were

working the floor and trying to take credit for the new legislation.

Light sparkled from the huge chandelier and reflected from the thousands of

diamonds encrusting the women in attendance. While an orchestra played softly

from one corner of the room, tuxedo clad waiters with white gloves circulated

silver trays of champagne and caviar. A small circle of Cabinet members talked

quietly with the President.

A long string of black limousines was still pulling up outside and passes were

being checked against the guest list. Suddenly there was a perceptible pause as

eyes turned to the beautiful young woman handing her wrap to the doorman.

"Who invited her?" a woman standing next to the President's secretary asked.

"The President added her name in his own handwriting when he approved the guest

list."

"I didn't think interns were invited to this kind of event."

"They aren't"

"Where's the First Lady?"

"Back in Arkansas dedicating a new hospital."

"Don't you think someone would talk?"

"She's used to it. He's been cheating for the last twenty years."

Conversation returned to normal as Monica joined a group of men and women that

she knew.

The President had long been known for his indiscretions and his inside team at

the White House made sure nothing leaked out to the press. This time it was

different. Monica had confessed her intimacy to a friend who had gone public

with the information. Now the press was having a field day and rumors swirled

around Washington of possible impeachment.

It was easy to see how the President could fall for this beautiful talented

young woman. She graduated from Harvard at the top of her class with a degree in

Political Science. Several of her professors were old friends of the President

and recommended her highly. She had a brilliant command of facts and figures and

could present an informed position on any current political event.

Tonight she wore a tight-fitting strapless blue silk gown and simple pearl

earrings. With her stiletto heals, she stood eye to eye with most of the men and

was a head taller than the other women. At twenty-four, she was the youngest

woman in the room by at least a decade and didn't need the jewels and heavy

makeup the others did. She wore her hair down and just enough makeup to let her

natural beauty shine through.

It was late when Monica finally danced with the President. A hush came over the

room and small groups whispered among themselves as the two circled the floor.

"Can you forgive me?" Monica whispered quietly.

"I love you. Meet me in the East Wing in an hour." Came the reply and then the

dance was over.

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Terry was a career soldier. He trained and served with the Army Rangers before

taking a job in Washington. Covert operations were his specialty and he never

questioned his orders even though they sometimes sounded strange. In the past he

had infiltrated military and commercial facilities and killed designated

political targets but nothing prepared him for what he was ordered to do

tonight.

Although he recognized her immediately from pictures he had no idea how

beautiful a woman Monica really was. As he watched her approach her figure was

silhouetted in a light down the hall. He was mesmerized by the full mounds of

her breasts, her slender waist and wide hips under the sheer silk of her gown.

She looked almost lost as she walked tentatively down the dark hall

When Monica was only a few feet away, he slammed the struggling woman hard

against the far wall.

"Nooo!" She tried to scream but the gloved hand over her mouth stifled her

cries. Struggling for her life she twisted first one way and then the other in

Terry's iron grip. When their eyes met she shuddered at the cold, emotionless

look she saw.

There was a bright flash of metal as Terry's switchblade clicked open and Monica

realized what he planned to do. He preferred to kill with a Marine KaBar but for

this mission the long thin switchblade would easily penetrate to the heart and

cause a lot less external bleeding.

Terry looked into the deep blue frightened eyes of the woman he had been ordered

to kill then hesitated for a second thinking about the women in his life. He had

known some beautiful women but nothing as elegant as the one now struggling in

his arms.

"What a waste."

Suddenly the soldier in him came back and he plunged the switchblade deep into

Monica's heaving chest. There was a ripping sound as the knife tore the sheer

silk of her gown and her body jerked back in an involuntary spasm of pain.

"Ahhhgg!"

She was choking on the blood rising in her throat but the gloved hand wouldn't

let her scream. She thrashed around in complete desperation and her eyes were

wide with fear. Her body finally gave a long shudder and then hung limp. Her

eyes took on a blank stare and began to glaze over.

As Terry relaxed his grip, her legs buckled and she started sliding down the

wall. He put one arm behind her and then reached down and picked up her legs. He

carried the limp body down the hall to one of the small conference rooms and lay

her out on the oak table.

Closing the door he turned on the lights and looked over the body. The strapless

gown had slipped and both naked breasts stood out in all their glory. The

switchblade was still sticking in her chest where he left it to prevent external

bleeding. The body seemed to move when he pulled the knife out and a little

blood welled up around the wound. He wiped the blood off the knife and then felt

along her long slender neck for a trace of carotid pulse. He found none and

confirmed she was really dead.

His orders were to prepare the body so he rolled her on one side and started

fumbling with the long zipper on the silk gown. He gradually worked it down and

the blue silk peeled away from the beautiful white skin. He slipped her shoes

off and then set to work sliding her nylons off her long slender legs.

Manipulating the soft warm body of the dead woman left him completely aroused

and by the time he pulled her panties down he couldn't help stroking her brown

pubic patch.

"At ease, soldier!"

The command startled him and he stood straight up. The President was standing

there in a bathrobe and slippers and what appeared to be nothing else.

"Relax and help me move her." The President's tone was softer now.

The two men grasped Monica's arms and pulled her on her back to the edge of the

table until her head fell back with her mouth open. As the President untied his

bathrobe Terry noticed his tiny penis. It was barely two inches long fully

erect. He held Monica's head between his legs and pushed it in her mouth, balls

and all.

"About face, soldier! Came the command and Terry responded immediately.

He stood there for what seemed like a long time listening to panting and

grunting from his Commander in Chief.

At last it was quiet in the room and Terry heard the door slam. When he looked

around, Monica was still lying there with her blue eyes staring sightlessly up

at him. Her mouth was wide open and tiny drops of cum were scattered around her

beautiful face.

He shook his head in disgust. "She deserves better than that." He thought wiping

her face with a handkerchief. He rolled her back on the table and closed her

dead eyes. He carefully composed her features and then kissed her full pouting

lips. He cupped her still warm breasts in his hands and felt her firm nipples.

By now Terry's balls were ready to burst and he needed to do something about his

problem. He wrapped his hands around Monica's slender waist and pulled her hips

to the edge of the table. He dropped his pants and his huge erection sprang out

to meet her soft warm pussy. He drove himself into the beautiful corpse again

and again until he couldn't hold back any longer. When his cum finally gushed

into the dead woman he felt a wave of relief flow over his body.

Now he needed to concentrate on the rest of his mission and dispose of the body.

He rolled out a body bag and started zipping Monica in. Her feet were first and

he couldn't help running his hands over her long, beautifully shaped legs. As he

pulled the zipper over her soft brown pubic patch he paused to feel the warm

moistness. The expanse of her flat stomach and long slender waist felt warm

under his hands and he touched the knife wound that hardly showed in her chest.

He transferred a drop of her blood to his tongue and tasted its sweet saltiness.

Her high firm breasts and brown nipples were a special attraction. His hands

lingered over them for what seemed like a long time before he pulled the zipper

up to her neck. He cradled her head in his hands and admired her beautiful face.

He stroked her long dark hair with his hands and gave her lips a tender kiss. At

last he pulled the zipper over her face.

Terry quickly moved around the room and cleaned up any evidence he could find.

He stuffed the bloody dress, the shoes, the sheer nylons and the rest of

Monica's things in his tote bag. When he was ready to go he turned off the

lights and hefted the body over his shoulder. He picked up his tote and walked

quietly to a back exit. Amazingly there were no guards in the area and he lay

the body in the trunk of his car.

As Terry drove on into the Virginia hills the lights of Washington faded in the

distance. He thought about the beautiful dead woman in the back of his car and

could feel a warm glow in his groin.

He needed to dump her in one of the big incinerators down near the border before

dawn but her body was still soft and warm and there were a few hours left.

Timberwolf