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 Allison Janney or Stockard Channing. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: RalSt was celebrating the 5000th entry over at Passion & Perfection. I thought I'd throw together a West Wing couple for her. I'd thought it would be either CJ/Abbey or CJ/Ainsley, but my Ainsley muse decided to let Abbey have a little fun this time Mainly because she couldn't figure out a way to turn the story into a threesome. *veg*
CHALLENGE: Written for Passion & Perfection's Big 5000.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
BETA: Shatterpath, as usual
By A. Magiluna Stormwriter
"Tell me you're not seriously going to be spending Thanksgiving holed up here in your office while the rest of us get fat on turkey and all the fixings."
It's not even worth looking up to see the confused puppy look on Josh's face. "Sorry, Joshua, my boy, but I don't need to get fat and lazy on tryptophan while you boys try to tell me how football should be played. I do have brothers, you know, and I've played my fair share of football."
"Aww, c'mon, Ceej!" he whines, and I can see him lounging against the doorframe like a gawky teenager. "You can't be alone on Thanksgiving!"
I won't be alone on Thanksgiving, you idiot. I'll be eating my turkey dinner off Abbey's skin.
"Josh, just give it a rest, okay? I'm going to get caught up on my work here, then go home and have my TV dinner, call my dad and my brothers, and finish off the night with a bottle of merlot and a couple of classic movies. I'll probably drag out my copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's, to be totally honest. I haven't seen it in ages."
It's Abbey's favorite movie.
"It'll be fine, Josh, really."
"It'll be lonely."
My head snaps up. That's not Josh's voice, or any of the boys, for that matter. Crap! "Ma'am!" I shoot to my feet without thought, scraping my thighs against the edge of my desk. Oh, that'll leave marks. Thank god, I didn't wear a skirt today; I'd hate to see what would left of my nylons after that.
Well, at least they should heal by the time Abbey decides to add matching marks to my back.
"Sit down, Claudia Jean," she replies, the smirk teasing at the corners of her lips, as if she can read my thoughts, "before you sprain something." I don't need to be told twice. "Now did I hear Josh correctly that you're going to be spending Thanksgiving working alone instead of spending it with your friends and family?"
"As I told Josh, I'm just going to get caught up on a few things while it's quiet, then I'll go home and call my dad and brothers, and I'll round out the night with a movie, a bottle of merlot, and dinner for one. Really, it's completely fine."
Quit making me explain this over and over again, damn it! I'm gonna fuck up the lie at some point. Then what?
She narrows her eyes at me, lips pursing as if she's trying to come up with a good rebuttal. "Fine. Be an overworking hermit. But you're stopping by the residence before you leave. I'll have your dinner packed up and waiting for you." And with that, she turns and wanders back to wherever it is she came from.
"You're distracting me from seeing if my thighs are all scraped up, Josh." My words startle him from staring after the First Lady, and he has the good sense to look at me sheepishly. "That means get out!"
He blinks in confusion, then turns around to sidle past Carol, who's trying to get into my office. She has the damned first aid kit with her. I hate being this accident prone, but at least it's a nice cover for when the First Lady decides to get particularly amorous. And after her mood just now, I'm in for a world of hurt on Thanksgiving. I'll be lucky if I can sit the next day
But I'll be thanking God that my boss understands this thing between his wife and me.
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