If there were a time in my life where muffins, bagels, and general baked goods would be warranted, this is it. I'm thinking this could even be an occasion for some sort of fancier pastry. You know, éclairs or cannolis. One of those foreign fluffy things with enough fat grams to clog an artery. It's okay, though, because I am in an artery-clogging mood.

Why? Well, I don't mean to boast, but I am simply-- Joshua Lyman, master negotiator.

To take a term from my homies on the street, I am also the, 'bomb digity.'

Some day in history textbooks they will equate my name with words like, 'brilliant,' 'skillful,' and just plain 'cool.'

If grabbing onto republican senators and crushing them in your palm, making them beg for mercy were an Olympics sport then there would be no doubt of the gold medallist.

Are we starting to get the idea of just how good I am?

Excellent.

I'm walking --actually, it's more of a skip-- through the halls leading to my office. I have just succeeded in the task that Leo called, 'impossible,' CJ referred to as, 'ludicrous,' and Sam actually responded with a, 'whatchu talking 'bout, Willis?' when told what I was doing.

But I showed them. Senator Dorgman --who I affectionately like to call, 'Senator Dorkman'-- was one of the Senators that we had in the no column when it came to votes for the Education reform bill. He'd been a definite no for weeks. We're three votes short. Toby and Sam were putting together their plan to woo Senator Carter and Senator Gainer when I decided to give it one more chance with Dorgman.

He was putty in my hands. Well, not at first, but he formed into a nice putty after about five hours of showing him stats, giving him proposals, and finally using the argument that gets them every time. I looked at him, a slight mist in my eye, and said, "Senator Dorgman: don't do it for me, don't do it for the president, and don't do it for the Democratic Party. Do it for the kids."

Putty I tell you.

It's now midnight and in the past I'd celebrate this victory in my usual way. Work for about an hour and then go home, drinking Heineken and watching CNN until I pass out. Not tonight, though. There will be no working, there will be no drinking, and there will be no CNN. Instead I have plans of going home where my girlfriend, preferably naked, will be waiting. There will be sex- - lots and lots of celebratory, 'I am the bomb digity' sex.

As I turn into my office I realize that there might be a slight snag in my plans. Sitting at my desk would be the previously mentioned girlfriend. She's not naked and she looks far from ready for the celebratory, 'I am the bomb digity' sex. In fact, she looks pretty damn pissed.

"Donna?" I ask, approaching the desk.

"Josh?" She responds in the same tone.

She's sitting at my computer and hasn't even bothered to look away from the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Right now or in general?"

"Let's start with right now."

"I'm playing minesweeper."

I make my way over to the other side of the desk where she is, in fact, playing minesweeper-- Intermediate level for those interested. I give a slight, 'Hmph' as I look down at the screen.

"What, Josh," she says in an exasperated tone. "Did you think I was lying to you?"

"No, no," I start defending myself, seeing all of my plans of my 'bomb digity' sex deflate like a balloon loosing air. Right now I think I'll be lucky if she doesn't just kick me in my balls. "It's just that you once told me that you'd have to be bored as sin to ever play a game of minesweeper."

She nods slowly. "Exactly."

She's definitely trying to imply something with that comment. "Donna, why are you still here?"

"What's today, Josh?" She asks, pressing firmly down on the mouse and kicking the leg of my desk when she hits a bomb.

Better the desk than me. "It's Friday."

She spins around in the chair and stands up quickly, forcing the rolling chair to skid across the room, slamming into the wall. "Right. . .. Friday?" She says, 'Friday' as more of a question than a statement.

I'm now racking my brain to remember things about Friday. Let's see, it comes after Thursday and before Saturday. Traditionally, it's the last day of the workweek. In French it's 'Vendredi.' Let's concentrate specifically on this Friday. I had staff at seven, a meeting with the Secretary of Commerce, lunch with Sam and Toby about the education bill. At five I went to meet with Dorgman. Then at eight I was suppose to. . .

Oh. . . .shit.

Donna nods and raises her eyebrows when she notices the look of realization sweep over my face. "Oops," is all I can mutter.

"Oops is right, Joshua."

She's calling me Joshua. She only calls me Joshua when she's pissed, making a point, or in the throes of passion. I'm thinking I'm never going to hear it in the context of the last example. I look down and notice the very short, sexy, black dress she's wearing and I mentally kick myself a little bit harder. "I forgot about dinner."

"You sure did."

"We had reservations at that new restaurant near Dupont."

She's staring down at her fingernails "Yep,"

"The one with the fondue that you were really looking forward to."

"That would be the one, Joshua."

"The one with the three cheese and herb fondue, served with small cubes of warm crusted french bread." I say, remembering how she showed up at my desk on Wednesday to read me the food review from the Post.

"Don't forget the melted Belgium chocolate and seasonal fruit fondue that they serve for dessert."

Right, how could I forget about the melted Belgium chocolate and seasonal fruit fondue? I am an idiot. "I'm really sorry, Donna."

She brushes past my shoulder and makes her way out of my office. "Sorry is just not gonna cut it, Lyman."

I hit the palm of my hand against my forehead, letting out a little groan before following behind her. "Donna, I. . ."

She grabs her purse and turns off the light next to her desk. "I sat there looking like a total idiot, waiting for you to show up. I don't want to hear it, Josh."

"It's just that my meeting with Dorgman went long. . ."

"This has nothing to do with your meeting with Dorgman. You would have forgot about dinner no matter what you were doing."

Well, she might have a point there.

"Come on," she says, storming down the hall. "I'm tired and I want to go home."

* * *

It isn't until I'm sitting on my couch about a half and hour later that I realize when she said she wanted to go home that she might actually meant her own home. I instinctively just brought her here. Although, I think she's enjoying stomping around my apartment much more than she ever would in her own. Here she gets to slam things and totally ignore me as I try to apologize. . . .again.

"Sorry," I say simply, watching her emerge from my bedroom, wearing one of my old t-shirts and a scowl.

She dismisses me with a grumble of, "shut up" and goes back to ignoring me.

A few minutes later she's making her way out of the bathroom and I can't help but think how cute she is when she's all pissed. She pads around the apartment in a very paced rhythm, the heels of her feet hitting the floor first to create a louder sounding thud with every step she takes. Her lips form this perfect little pout that hasn't left her face since we entered the apartment. It scares the crap out of me that I'm completely turned on by this massive display of anger.

She's got me. She's got me and she's got me bad.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" She demands, sitting down next to me and throwing her purse in between us.

"Nothing," I say, trying unsuccessfully to minimize the smile on my face.

She rummages around her and pulls out a hair clip. "Did you have any dinner?" She quickly knots her hair up into a bun, securing it with the clip, and gives me a questioning look.

"What?"

"Dinner. I hope you at least had something to eat."

For the last half hour she's said no more than twenty words to me. Now she's acting like my overprotective Yiddish Grandmother, making sure I've had enough to eat. "I had plenty to eat."

"Josh, a bag a Fritos and a can of Coke from a vending machine isn't a meal."

"I did not just have a bag of Fritos and a can of coke."

She raises her eyebrows and gives me an incredulous look.

"I had a Kit-Kat bar, too."

"Here," she removes a white wax paper bag from her purse and sets it on the coffee table. How much crap does she have in there? It's like a magic bag.

"What's that?"

"Fruit. Surprisingly, unlike Fritos and Kit-Kat bars, it's one of the four major food groups."

"You carry random bags of fruit around in your purse?"

"Josh," she rolls her eyes and starts to open the bag. "It's from dinner. You get this fixed dinner with dessert but I didn't stay."

I watch as she places a styrofoam box and a small soup sized container down on the coffee table. "Why didn't you stay for dessert?"

She leans back against the couch and slides a little closer to me. "Do you know how lonely it is to eat fondue all by yourself?" Her eyes fall over a little and she sticks her bottom lip out at me, just to accentuate the point of what a total shit I am.

"I'm sorry," I say for possibly the millionth time in the last hour.

She lets out this heavy dramatic sigh and shifts on the couch so she's now facing me. "It was so sad," she whispers. "There were all these couples there and I was sitting all by myself, Josh."

Everyone say it with me this time. "I'm sorry,"

"And then," she continues. "They brought me all this food- all these different kinds of breads and melted cheese. It was so yummy."

"Uh-huh," I say, shifting a little on the couch.

"Oh, and listen to this," she clutches her hand over her chest and closes her eyes. "The bread. The bread was so good. There was this one that was all soft on the inside with this really crisp crust. You put it on your fork--And not regular forks, these are special, like, fondue forks." She gets all animated as she starts to imitate the movements. "Then you dip really slowly into the cheese. And you wanna know the best part?"

I nod my head; mouth dropped open, not quite able to speak actual words.

"The cheese soaks into the bread, wrapping around the crust. It goes in all hard and it comes out wet." She bites onto her lower lip before giving me a sly smile.

I feel an extreme tightness in my pants as her tongue slides a little along her lower lip.

Like I said, she's got me bad.

* * * * *

Let's get something out in the open right now. And there's no need for the drooling idiot sitting next to me to know about this. I'm not exactly all that mad at him. In fact, I was never actually mad at him. That whole thing with the stomping and the silent treatment? That was all a show. I'm pretty good, huh?

I know Josh was going to miss dinner hours ago. Hell, I could of probably told you Josh was going to miss dinner on Wednesday when I asked him if he wanted to go and he said, "Melted cheese in a pot? Sounds girly." But I knew I wouldn't see him for hours when he told me he was going to meet with Senator Dorkman. . .Dorgman. . .whatever. I also knew he'd come back victorious, chest all puffed out, ready to go home and prove his manhood by, 'conquering his woman.' Not that I don't enjoy those times. Believe me, I do. Performance levels are often at their best and he's very willing to use that 'manhood' for all it's worth.

The Joshua Lyman ego trip has been replaced this evening by the Donnatella Moss guilt trip. I have full intentions on benefiting from this and getting what I want. And what I want is about four feet away from me in a small soup container.

Oh, right. . . .Josh will be involved. In fact, he's the key player in this plan of mine.

"I just wish you were there, Josh. It was so good but so lonely with out you." I drop my eyes down to the floor and sigh. I really wish I could fake tears.

"Donna," he starts. Wait. . .here comes my favorite part. "I'm sorry."

Ha. . . .love that. I gotta get that on tape.

"It's. . .okay," I drawl out, putting my head down on his shoulder.

"I'll make it up to you."

"Really? Maybe you can take me out to dinner tomorrow night." Misdirection . . .just part of the game.

"I could do that. . ."

Damn.

Hmm. . . .time for plan B.

I slowly put my leg up on the coffee table and gently give the container of chocolate fondue a light shove in his direction. "Or. . ."

Okay, so subtle hints aren't exactly my specialty.

"Or. . ." I can hear him laugh as his hand slips up on my knee and squeezes it a bit. "I could make up for it now."

BINGO!

"Okay," I squeal, practically jumping off the sofa. Wait, I should probably act a little more demure. "Okay," I say in a solemn tone. "You know," I roll my eyes. "If you wanted to."

"Oh, I think I want. . ." He grabs onto my waist and pulls me on top of him so I'm lying across his lap. "You still hungry, Donna?"

I nod my head as I watch him start to pull my tee shirt over my hips. "Uh-huh."

"Donna," he says, looking down at me and rubbing the tips of his fingertips around my hipbone. "You're not wearing any underwear."

Observant and cute. What more could a girl ask for? "Nope, I'm not. Is that okay?"

He nods. "That's fine. Makes my job easier." He motions for me to put my hands over my head.

"Wouldn't want to stress you out," I say, as he pulls off the tee shirt and tosses it behind him.

His hands creep around my waist and start to push me off his lap. I tighten the grip I have around his neck, wanting to stay here with his arms wrapped around me, his erection pressing firmly into my ass. "It's okay," he whispers into my ear, bringing his hands up to my arms. "Lay down. I want to see you."

I fall back against the cushions and scoot back a bit so my head is almost propped up on the sofa arm. His eyes roam all over my body as his hands start to brush against my calves and knees. He focuses on my breasts and I can feel my nipples harden at his stare alone. He leans over and bites one gently in between his teeth and I start to squirm underneath him. "Joshua," I whine.

He lets his tongue roll around my nipple a couple times before looking up at me. "What?"

I motion my head towards the table. "Fruit. . .chocolate. . .please?" Apparently I can now only handle one-word statements.

He shakes his head. "Be patient, Donna."

"I've been patient."

"Good, then you have practice." His hand parts my legs and travels down past my knee. "We'll get there. I just want to do this first."

I close my eyes and bite my lower lip as I start to feel his fingertips tease the skin of my inner thigh. I tremble the slightest at the touch, and he places his hand firmly against my thigh to steady me, pushing my legs further open. I moan as his hand moves to cup my sex, placing this amazing pressure against the entire area. His fingertips brush up until they're over my center and he slowly slips two fingers inside of me. "Oh. . . Josh. . ." I growl, hearing the noises his fingers make as they exit me and dive back in.

"You're soaked, Donna," he groans, starting to make his way off the couch, his fingers still buried inside of me. He kneels beside me and when I feel his tongue surround my nipple again it's enough to make me start to buck my hips against his hand. "Josh," I plea.

His fingers continue to move even faster and his thumb starts brushing occasionally against my clit, teasing me briefly. His mouth leaves my nipple and travels up my neck until he's directly over my lips. "Just come for me. I want to feel you come around my fingers."

My mouth opens to gasp and his tongue slips in my mouth to replace the noises trying to escape my lips. The pad of his thumb presses hard against my clit and I start to spasm around him. My tongue almost violently darts in and out of his mouth, supplementing the noises that would usually be tearing from the pit of my stomach.

My hips finally drop back down to the couch as his thumb gently swirls my now sensitive clit. The inner muscles that are surrounding him relax a bit and I moan against his mouth as he pulls out of me, already missing the feeling of him inside of me.

"See. . .you were so patient" He says, pulling away from my lips.

"Do I get a reward now?" I ask, smiling as he's already reaching behind him for the two small containers.

"You sure do."

I turn on my side and start to unbutton his shirt as I watch him open up the container with the chocolate sauce. He dips his finger --one that was moments ago inside of me-- in the chocolate and I observe the thick brown liquid as it slowly drips back into the container. It's enough to make me actually groan out loud.

Yummy.

"Here," he brings his chocolate covered finger up to my mouth- little drops landing on my chest in the process. "Taste it. . ."

He brushes my lips lightly with his finger, covering them with a gloss of chocolate, before parting them and entering my mouth. My tongue swirls around his finger, as I taste the combination of the chocolate and me. "Mmmmmm. . ." I moan, smacking my lips as I pull my mouth away from him.

"Is it good?"

I bring my hand around his neck and pull him to my lips, letting him try for himself. I now have this taste combination of chocolate, Josh, and me. It's enough to make me want. . .

"More, Josh," I moan.

He smiles against my lips and I start to feel sticky chocolate sauce pool below my ribcage, still a little warm from being in the confines of the container. "Josh," I gasp. "What are you doing?"

"Just giving myself a little supply here." He puts the carton down on the floor and starts swirling the chocolate up around my breasts with his fingertips.

"What about your couch?" I ask, watching as chocolate drips off the side of my body onto the cushions.

He shrugs his shoulders and grabs for the carton of fruit. "I'll flip the cushions over."

"Such a male thing to do."

"You know," he says, scanning the contents of the container before finally picking up a strawberry. "I wouldn't be offending my entire gender right about now if I were you."

He licks the tip of the strawberry before lowering it to my breast, twisting the tip into my nipple. Compared to the chocolate sauce it's cold, and I gasp at the feeling.

He dips the strawberry into his little supply of chocolate and drizzles it around my chest and neck before licking it all away with his tongue. "You tastes so good," he moans into my neck as I attempt to remove his shirt, spilling chocolate sauce all over the couch in the process.

"I think it's the chocolate, Josh."

"No," he says, laying the strawberry on my chest so he can shrug off his shirt. "It's you."

He drizzles a little more chocolate onto my nipple and begins sucking on it as I start to press my hand into his erection, feeling it become even harder against my palm. He grinds against my touch and groans into my nipple, which creates even more ripples of pleasure through my body.

"Face me," he says, starting to pull against my leg to swing me around.

I turn slowly, trying to create as little mess as possible. Not exactly the easiest task considering how it's now all over my chest and stomach. He grabs onto my calves and throws my legs over his shoulders, giving me a smirk before dipping the strawberry back into the chocolate and making a curved pattern down my stomach.

"Josh," I groan, lifting my hips towards his face.

"Patience," he says, giving me a quick kiss on my inner thigh.

I watch the strawberry travel slowly down my stomach until it disappears and I feel it brush against my clit. I moan as it quickly passes by and then gasp as I feel the heat of the chocolate and the cold of the strawberry mix with my own warm fluids. Josh brings the strawberry up to his mouth and devours it with one bite.

I swear-- it's quite possible that I might just come right now.

His fingers travel around my inner thighs, leaving traces of sticky chocolate with every touch. His head buries into my legs and I shudder at the feel of his warm breath against me. His hands reach up to my stomach, tapping his fingers in the chocolate and creating little splashes that land on various parts of my body and on the couch cushions.

His tongue dips inside of me and I grab one of his hands, bringing it to my mouth and sucking the chocolate off his finger. His tongue moves to my clit and I can feel another orgasm about to erupt from inside of me. "Ohhhhh. . . .God."

"Donna," he gasps, removing his head from between my legs and rising to his knees, pulling me down off the couch a little bit.

I attempt to keep my balance on the couch while trying to help him remove his pants. It's a bit of a challenge so I lean back and watch him pull down his pants and boxers. I lower myself a little more so his cock is pressed into my lower stomach, chocolate dripping over its head.

He grinds into me a few times --the chocolate now dripping all over his body and down to the floor-- before lifting my hips and pushing me back up on the couch. He guides his cock to my center and we both groan as he starts to push inside of me.

"This is going to be kinda fast, Donna." He says in an apologetic voice.

"Me, too," I gasp as he pushes himself deep inside of me. "We've got plenty of chocolate for later."

He smiles and starts to slam into me quickly, holding onto my hips to steady me. My back arches as he pushes into me as far as he can, pausing for a second while deep inside before repeating the process. One of his hands slides up to my breasts, tweaking and pulling at the sugar covered bud.

I begin moaning, and soon I start screaming this combination of his name and these incomprehensible noises, as he shortens his thrusts. "I'm so close," I say, bringing my hands to his shoulders to hold on.

He pulls out of me completely and thrusts back into me hard one last time, forcing us both over the edge. I feel him spill inside of me just as the tremors take over my own body. There's this added feeling and smell of and chocolate that sends me into this sugar and sex induced haze.

He lets go of my hips and I'm forced to slide of the couch, collapsing on top of him as he leans back against the coffee table.

"Well," I say, looking at the mess that's just not chocolate anymore. "This is gonna be one hell of a cleaning bill."

* * * * *

I look around and assess the situation. Federal relief funds might be necessary to clean up this disaster area. Although, I'm not exactly sure what I'd do when Leo sees the aide report and asks about the money we gave for, "chocolate and bodily fluids cleanup."

No matter what, though, my housekeeper is going to be pissed about this. She's sixty-five, from Colombia and rather questioning about every aspect about my life, including sex. I can hear her now--

"Mr. Joshua, you make whoopee on couch with snickers bar?"

Truthfully, none of this is of much concern to me now because all I can concentrate on is how I can feel Donna's nipples graze along my chest as she reaches over my shoulder to the coffee table.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking through the fruit. I'm hungry." She rises a bit more on her knees so her chest is almost at my eye level. She's still has chocolate dripped all over her chest and stomach, not to mention her face and hair. Not too sure how it got in there. As she leans a bit forward the temptation is too great and I start to lick the chocolate covered skin in between her breasts.

"Mmmmmm. . ." she says, lowering back onto my lap.

"You like that?" I ask, starting to circle a finger around her nipple.

"No," she says, grabbing a piece of melon and popping it into her mouth. "There's cantaloupe. I love cantaloupe."

I give her a little pinch and watch as her back arches to my touch. "Okay, I love that too." She finally admits.

"Good. Besides," I start, watching her stuff piece of fruit after piece of fruit into her mouth. "How can you still be hungry? I just covered you with chocolate and did very creative things with fruit."

"You got to taste it. I was just there for the ride." She pauses and gives me quick smile. "Literally."

I laugh and wrap my arms around her, burying my face into her neck as she continues to scarf down various pieces of fruit. "I'm sorry about tonight," I finally say, licking of a small drop of chocolate below her earlobe

"S'okay," she mumbles with a full mouth.

"No, it's not. I forgot about dinner and you had to go by yourself."

"Actually, I wasn't by myself."

"Huh?" I ask, leaning back, watching her pick at the last of the strawberries.

"I took Margaret to dinner with me."

"But you told me you were alone."

She grins and her eyes start to get the mischievous glow. "I know."

I despise being confused. "You thought I was going to meet you there."

She shrugs her shoulders and throws the now empty fruit container back on the coffee table. "Not really. . ."

"But. . .but. . .you were all pissed at me back at the White House. You stomped around the living room. Donna. . . I thought you were going to kick me in my balls at one point."

She wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes. "Really? I'm good. Maybe I could be one of those political people who go into acting. I could be governor of Wisconsin some day."

"Donnnnnna," I whine in this voice that even grates on my nerves.

"Joshua, calm down. You went off and played Political superhero for the night. You got Dorgman on board, right?"

"Yes," I pout.

"Remember last week when you destroyed Miller on Meet the Press?"

"Yeah," I smile a bit at the memory. He almost cried.

"Remember what happened when you came home after destroying Miller?"

I grin at that memory. "You mean how we almost broke that chair in the spare bedroom?" I pause for a moment as I start to catch her drift about this whole thing. "Wait. . . .I thought you had fun."

"I did. I just decided to create a little fun of my own." She bites her lower lip before leaning forward and kissing my shoulder. "And I got what I wanted."

"What's that?"

She tastes some sauce off my collarbone and looks up at me. "Chocolate. . .and you."

I'm pretty sure I can no longer refer to myself as the, 'bomb digity.'

She's conniving, she's ruthless, she's creative, and she's evil.

And she's absolutely perfect for me.