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Tactics

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It was a shame a woman who ate pussy with such skill had to die. There were so few people left in the world who could do it as well as Laura Roslin.

The Admiral hadn’t banked on learning this fascinating fact about the president when she was called to Colonial One in the middle of the night for an urgent briefing but she certainly wasn’t complaining when the politician pushed her unceremoniously down on the desk and divested her of her uniform pants.

But Helena knew better than anyone the only thing that could make someone hornier than the threat of impending death was condemning someone else to theirs.

When she came down from her orgasm she opened her eyes to find the president staring at her, lips still damp, with an unreadable expression. She looked far worse than she had earlier and Helena realized it would be easier than she’d imagined to make it look like the terminally ill woman had simply collapsed during their meeting.

She sat up and pulled up her underwear and pants in one motion and smiled at Roslin.

“That was quite unexpected, Madame President,” she said. “Do you always taste your enemies before you have them killed?”

When Roslin smiled back her eyes had gone cold.

“I generally expect them to return the favor first, Admiral,” she said flatly before pulling her into a bruising kiss. The older woman was stronger than she looked and she’d quickly maneuvered their bodies so that she was the one lying prone on the desk.

Helena kissed her roughly and drove her knee between the president’s legs to draw a strangled moan. She ran her fingers through her long hair until her hands were positioned around her delicate neck. She relished the look of fear in Roslin’s eyes when they snapped open.

“I admire your egalitarianism but it seems you’ve made a tactical error, Madame President,” she snarled as she clenched her fingers deep into the soft flesh. Roslin gasped and began to squirm under her weight, her hands flying to the side to grasp at the items on her desk, knocking her palm flatly against the comm unit in the process.

Helena barely heard the agents burst into the room before she felt her body being lifted roughly from the president’s and thrown to the floor. Her face scraped against the carpet as her hands were pulled behind her back and cuffed together.

“Are you alright, Madame President?”

Helena looked up to see a black suited man helping the president from the desk. She sagged against him weakly but the military woman recognized the look of triumph in her eyes.

“I’m fine, Agent Williams. I want Admiral Cain escorted to her own brig. She’s being charged with attempting to assassinate the president. I’ll have to consult with Commander Adama but I believe he’ll agree to co-sign the execution order in the morning.”

Helena, who’d been pulled into a standing position a few feet away, struggled against her bonds in an attempt to lunge at the president.

“You cowardly bitch,” she yelled as the agents held her back. Roslin lifted a hand to them and moved forward to look the bound woman in the eyes. She ran a delicate finger across Helena’s cheek down to her lips where she let it rest.

“It seems the tactical error was yours, Admiral.”