Senator Charles Bladsworth let out a deep breath, threw his handkerchief on the table and stood up to address his colleagues and staffers.
“Well fuck,” Charles muttered. “Looks like we’re no closer to figuring out this debt crap than Krugman is to explaining that trillion dollar coin to Jon Stewart.”
The room filled with a smattering of laughter. Charles continued, “I think we all know what we need. A night to relax.”
“Here here,” Chief of Staff Frank Monroe piped in. “Let’s hit the Debt Ceiling.”
A murmur of agreement filled the room as everyone shifted out of their seats and started to grab their personal belongings.
“Wait!” A lone voice broke through the cheerful buzzing. Jim Hicks knew he was just a low level staffer one week into the job, but something didn’t seem quite right. He scanned the room of faces that ranged from curious to amused. “I’m… I’m sorry everyone, but what do you mean hit the debt ceiling? I know it would make the Democrats look bad but it would make us look even worse, don’t you think?”
There was a quick pause before the room erupted into explosive laughter.
“Oh, you’re the new guy,” Senator Felicia Hearns said in between snorts. “You must not know what we’re referring to!”
Jim’s mood immediately lightened as several staffers and senators came over to pat him on the back or playfully ruffle his hair.
“No, silly!” Charles said as he walked over to a now smiling Jim. “The Debt Ceiling is a sex club down the street. It’s where we go to fuck and let off some steam. Let’s go!”
Minutes later Jim was in a stretch limo with all of his new colleagues. He wasn’t quite sure what to think as he watched two staffer pass ecstasy tabs around the group while an intern snorted a line of coke off a well respected senator from the East coast.
Upon reaching the club, they bypassed the velvet rope with ease, and all 20 of them were led into what looked like a VIP area. Immediately, a very attractive and busty young woman sat on his lap while two senators began dry humping in the corner. Someone handed him a glass of champagne and a ballgag.
When Jim first moved to DC, he was looking forward to making new friends, but it was all happening so fast. While he watched his boss strap himself to a sex swing as two female senators affixed nipple clamps to his bare, hairy chest, Jim silently sipped his champagne. He barely noticed that Frank had slipped his hand down Jim’s pants and was jerking him off under the mirrored table.
And as a senator from the Midwest inserted a double ended dildo into the wet, eager pussies of two high level staffers, as his cube mate, an intern, took a beating with a wooden backscratcher while blindfolded from another senator, as he climaxed inside Frank’s pruney, withered hand that had rubbed him to white-hot eruption, he couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t at all what he imagined his first week would look like.
A few hours later, Jim, now alone in the corner, was approached by who he thought was Senator Charles Bladsworth, but it was hard to tell due to the latex clown mask on the man’s face.
“Everything ok son?”
“Well, it’s just… different.”
Jim turned to the senator. “What do the democrats do on Friday nights to blow off steam?”
The senator lifted his mask and faced Jim. “They go to the Olive Garden.”
Jim shook his head and sighed, “Well that’s just fucking disgusting.”