Free The Rich Girls' Club by HoneyB Page B

discuss business.”
    “Yes, ye-yes. We are. So, are you a lobbyist or a philanthropist, or are you a member of an organization that wants to support my campaign because you want me to push your agenda?” he asked. The lust in his eyes shifted to curiosity.
    “I’ll get straight to the point, Mr.—” she paused then continued, “I mean, Johnathon. It’s no secret who my father is or that the Andrews family—”
    “I apologize for interrupting, but how are you Native American yet your last name is Andrews?”
    “It’s about Christopher Columbus claiming he discovered America, the Pilgrims betraying the Indians, and the U.S. stealing this great state from the Mexicans then denying them citizenship. What’s in a name? Pick one. You are seeking to represent California, aren’t you?”
    His thick brows drew close together. “Didn’t mean to put my foot in my mouth. I apologize.”
    “Accepted. Now please, I’m the one asking the questions, but if you don’t want the million dollar donation, I’ll let you ask all the questions you’d like.”
    Johnathon’s lips tightened as he nodded. Occasionally a woman had to slip a man a little bitch to hold her position.
    He definitely wasn’t as smart as Hope had anticipated, but she wasn’t here to be impressed by his intellect. The waiter placed the silver stand holding an ice bucket and the bottle of champagne by the table.
    “Please, send this to my Presidential suite. Hope Andrews.” She looked at Johnathon. “Why don’t we continue this conversation where no one will overhear us? Can’t be too trusting of people around you. Wouldn’t want any paparazzi taking pictures of us at this innocent luncheon then plastering them online.”
    They retrieved her coat from the host, then went back to her room.
    “Make yourself comfortable.”
    “Impressive,” he said, sitting on the sofa near the fireplace.
    The champagne arrived. Hope instructed the waiter to set up everything by the bar then tipped him accordingly. If Johnathon had had real class, Hope thought, he would’ve tipped the waiter instead of letting her do it.
    She filled two flutes, handed one to Johnathon, sat beside him then crossed her legs. The opening in her wraparound dress exposed her overlapping thighs. Noticing was his job. Pretending not to notice was hers.
    “You know, by accepting this donation,” Hope paused. Opened her purse and handed him the check payable to the Johnathon Waters Campaign Fund. “We are counting on you to make sure an initiative to tax casinos on reservations will never pass if you’re elected and as long as you’re in office. Never.”
    Nodding at the contribution, Johnathon said, “I reassure you that will never happen when I’m elected.” He stared at the check, folded it, then stuffed it in his wallet as though it would be deposited into his personal account.
    He scooted to the edge of the sofa. Glancing between his legs, he said, “Yes. Yes. Well, I thank you but I should be going.” The imprint in his pants grew larger.
    Hope thrust her breasts toward him, held up her glass. “There’s more where that came from if you do the right things.”
    Johnathon paused, picked up his flute, held it next to hers. “How rude of me; we should toast.”
    His glass tilted toward his lap. Champagne spilled onto the erection bulging in his pants. He sprang to his feet. “Oh, damn. I guess I’m so excited,” he said, placing the glass on the table.
    “Of course you are. A million dollars is a lot of money and you deserve every penny,” she lied. “You can’t leave like this. What would people think?” Standing beside him, Hope unbuckled his belt, unzipped, then removed his pants. “It’s a good thing we came up here,” she said, parting her red lips just enough for him to imagine sliding his dick inside.
    A real woman could undress a man before he realized he was naked. “I’ll tidy these up for you.” She selected a bottle of soda water from the bar, got a