Jed grabbed my right wrist and brought it down between me and the desk, set my hand over my pussy. “Get yourself there. I’ll help.” I felt his fingers inside me, parting me, then moved back so I was over my clit.

As he kept at my g-spot, rubbing and pressing in some magical way, I worked my clit with my fingers, circling it in just the right way that I knew worked.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he said, which broke away the shame and spurred me to come.

I tossed my head back, moaned low and deep as the orgasm hit me. The g-spot stimulation combined with my clit being worked was so intense. My palm slipped on the desk and Jed lifted me up, held me as I came and came.

Only when I sagged into his hold did he slip his fingers from me. My own were damp and sticky from touching myself, my brow sweaty.

He held me as I caught my breath.

“Again,” he murmured. This time, when he spun me about and lifted me up so I sat on the desk, I didn’t object. When he put a hand between my breasts and had me lay back on the hard surface, my dress up around my waist, I didn’t say a word. When he lifted my heels up and over his shoulders and knelt on the floor, I only moaned. Then I grabbed his hair and held on for the ride as he took me with his mouth, totally okay with me helping with my fingers.

A few hours later, when my brothers and I buried my father in the family cemetery, the minister remarked on how relaxed I looked.

Maybe Jed was right. Orgasms sanctioned by God were the way to go.

3

JED

I pushed into Marshall’s office and dropped into the chair across from him. Removed my hat. He was behind his desk and on the phone. I lifted my foot and crossed it over to my opposite knee, leaned back into a slouch and took on my usual air of indifference.

That wasn’t faked.

I was thirty minutes late for our scheduled weekly meeting. Intentionally.

John Marshall was known in some circles as a hero. A saver of jobs. Revitalizing towns. In reality, he hired people to destroy the state. Logging, drilling, mining, fracking. If it hurt the planet, he was doing it.

Sure, it brought in jobs to remote towns, but while doing that work, men and women were polluting the water their kids drank. Depleting their natural resources, disturbing the ecosystem. The paycheck might put food in their kids’ bellies, but when those kids grew up, there’d be nothing left to stay for.

He was killing Montana.

And he was getting away with it.

He didn’t care about laws. All he got was a fine and then went back to work. It helped to have allies.