"I did not have sexual relations with that woman."
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The first time Don Whittaker heard those infamous words was on January 26th, 1998, when then president Bill Clinton went on national television to deliver his verbal rejection of the notion that a...
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I was completely focused on getting this bed frame together before midnight, I had barely even noticed when Don left to change, or when he returned. In fact, I couldn't even say when exactly he dozed off. The only reason I recognized it at all was when I turned back to him, asking him to hand me the wrench he was laying next to.
Imagine my surprise when instead of seeing Don in his usual 16 piece suit, he was in a loose button down pajama set. A set where the shirt had since ridden up some from his position laying on his back, exposing his well defined stomach, while the pants had slipped slightly below his waist, revealing both the elastic band of his briefs, and his v lines, alluding to something else entirely.
My whole body stilled. I didn't know what to do as my eyes slowly raked over every last part of his body. Relax, I told myself. Fucking re-
Then I heard it. The slightest, softest moan. My grip tightened on this plastic front piece so damn tight I thought I was going to crack the framing. Don shifted his hand up to his mouth, still fast asleep, but I could see his cheeks taking on the slightest tint of red as they grew flushed.
I watched as that mouth of of his mumbled something against his fingers, causing me to cease all movement so I could hear. "...Car..." I heard him mumble, but the way he said it stirred a little more than just my heartbeat.
Shit, I-
I had to literally force my body to move, to continue working, but my eyes never left Don. I couldn't pull this now intense gaze I had, away. His skin looked so delicate, that exposed midriff section damn near permanently gluing my gaze there. Every so often his face would deepen in color, forcing me to essentially beg to see just a glimpse of what he was dreaming of.
It felt wrong working next to him while he was clearly have a dream about... something, and yet as soon as I finished the bed frame, and connected the mattress, I started to move his office equipment, finding any and every excuse to return to him in this room.
I just... I couldn't pull myself away. He just looked- I didn't know how to explain it. Well, I did. Him flushed like this turned me the fuck on in ways even I wasn't ready to address. And what he mumbled... was he going to say my name? Maybe it's the wine I had, I thought. That had to be it.
Regardless, it got me to disconnect Don's insanely messed up set up, and reconnect everything correctly in the living room. I set things up in the back corner of the living room against his wishes, because Don clearly didn't know what the fuck I was talking about when I told him there wasn't enough outlets near the bookshelves.
I knew he didn't know because he was daisy chaining, when you plug an extension chord into a power strip. Don probably thought I was being dramatic, but his previous set up was indeed a whole ass fire hazard.
