Disclaimer: "The West Wing", the characters and situations depicted are the property of Warner Bros. Television, John Wells Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This site is in no way affiliated with "The West Wing", NBC, or any representatives of the actors. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
Author's Disclaimer: The usual they are not mine stuff.
Authorís Notes: You will guess who's POV this is pretty quickly. It's probably pretty lame as I never write, so be gentle with me, but it came to me in a flash and I thought I'd better write it down quickly before it disappears again. Apologies for any errors in advance.
I have been watching her all evening. Something I know I shouldnít do. Not just because it's wrong, but because it's too dangerous.
Itís not like she wouldnít be used to being the center of attention, she usually steals the show everywhere she goes. Her height not taking away from her graciousness, and her quick wit never quite managing to push aside her sensual nature.
I have been watching her all evening, keeping an eye on her like a lioness on her prey, I didnít miss a single moment of her show. Flashing smiles and echoes of her laughter are tickling my skin. Only I know it isn't the drinks having my head all blurry, and my fingers twitching.
It shakes me like a storm when her eyes find mine and suddenly I am the deer caught in headlights. Staring for just a few seconds too long. Knowing right well I am telling the stories of a thousand books with just the one gaze, but not daring to break the connection.
The corner of her mouth curls up, and her shy smile answers every question I will never have to ask.
She excuses herself from a group of admirers, putting her mask back on for just a few moments.
But as she whisks past me, taking step after step to anywhere but here, her scent and fire washing all over me, my eyes close of their own accord and I know I lost the fight.
So I follow.