Living in a Plutocracy

[spicydish]

Madaline

She feels a blush spread over her face and chest at his words about her lips.

As she kicks off her heels, his legs slide open and she can feel his erection pressing against her ass. Reaching up, she begins the pull the pins from her hair. Her movements stretch her shirt tight across her breasts and the buttons threaten to pop.

Her balance on your lap precarious, she starts to tumble backward.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Lane

I feel the intensity build within me and he slows further. His eyes look into mine and I can't begin to fathom the expression. All I know is that we seem a little more joined than the sexual contact can account for and it is a little uncomfortable.

Every time I almost reach the peak, when I have the need to move faster he hesitates and backs off a bit. Making me moan and making me grip him harder.

This build up is exquisit and I can feel him react the way I respond. Both wanting to complete the coupling and both unwilling to let it be over.

I move faster against him, feeling him deep inside me, straining. When I see him grit his teeth and I rise up for more leverage and move down quickly. His face seems to open and when I begin my journey rocking against him heatedly, I lean in to kiss him and bear down on him, wanting him to feel what I feel.

 

[Somme]

rightio, mates...and quicking to the cut...I'd have you go for the presidency any day. The problem is, if Lit is not only populated by citizens of the US - what then? Perhaps it's time to bring in the international legal department? Oh god, I'd forgotten, they're in Turkey right now. Any suggestions?

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Ripley Taylor:

He watches as the shoes are kicked off and smiles into her eyes as she begins undoing her hair.

A fingertip begins to help those straining buttons slip through their button holes, but he's only gotten to the one directly between those luscious appearing globes of flesh when Maddi loses her balance by arching her back to push them out toward him even more.

His hands grip her sides to keep her from tumbling off his lap and pull to bring her upright again. Either he didn't realize his stregnth or she moved with his pull for she wound up with her partially uncovered breasts pressed hard against his chest and them looking into each others eyes mere inches apart.

In a soft voice as you look into each others eyes, "I want you Maddi. I want you in every way I can have you and every place you'll take me.
"What do you want?"

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

Lane's determination was impressive - she was a dame possessed with the lone mission of correcting a long-standing libidinal depravation. I enjoyed thoroughly the battle for turf, knowing that we were truly fighting for the same outcome. And she matched me parry and thrust - she was strong for a dame, and, of course, she had the massive advantage of - well, of being a dame to my pathetic status as a man. History has shown time and again that in the real struggle for power a man has no chance against a woman of will. And Lane had about all the will I had ever seen in a woman.

In time she bore down with such finality that there was no uncertainty as to the where we were headed, but fast. It occured to me that this might be what it felt like to be penetrated, as she moved over me with such force that she could easily have been moving through me. It was exquisite. I could not remember making love with this degree of both deliberation and abandon. As the tension built in each of us, I reached to give some last torturous twisting to her screaming nipples, and we erupted in simultaneous orgasm. The waves seemed to go on and on for her, and we continued our motion for the longest time. My ejaculation finished much sooner, of course, but the aftershocks continued, my cock twitching with expulsions of lingering drops of cum long after the rocket had left the pad.

I stroked her face, wiping beads of sweat that had gathered all along the hairline. She pushed her twisted head into my hand, like a horse hungry for attention. We kissed, sweetly now, a stark contrast to the passionate, consuming kisses of our lovemaking. But, maybe, truly, it wasn't such a contrast at all. I hadn't seen this deep deep passion in her when first we met at the bar. I had seen a lovely dame, but my work obsession had obscured my vision of her essence. I wondered for a moment what else I might have missed.

There weren't really words to describe what I had just felt, and I suspect that she was feeling the same - and so for the longest time we just stared at each other.

Finally I spoke, "Laney, sweetie, only Republicans fuck with such aggression as that." A smile crept over her face, and we both burst out in laughter.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

rightio, mates...and quicking to the cut...I'd have you go for the presidency any day. The problem is, if Lit is not only populated by citizens of the US - what then? Perhaps it's time to bring in the international legal department? Oh god, I'd forgotten, they're in Turkey right now. Any suggestions?

OOC:

SRP... rightio mates?

Can be who you like.

When you like and as you like!

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Re: Win

Lane's determination was impressive - she was a dame possessed with the lone mission of correcting a long-standing libidinal depravation. I enjoyed thoroughly the battle for turf, knowing that we were truly fighting for the same outcome. And she matched me parry and thrust - she was strong for a dame, and, of course, she had the massive advantage of - well, of being a dame to my pathetic status as a man. History has shown time and again that in the real struggle for power a man has no chance against a woman of will. And Lane had about all the will I had ever seen in a woman.

In time she bore down with such finality that there was no uncertainty as to the where we were headed, but fast. It occured to me that this might be what it felt like to be penetrated, as she moved over me with such force that she could easily have been moving through me. It was exquisite. I could not remember making love with this degree of both deliberation and abandon. As the tension built in each of us, I reached to give some last torturous twisting to her screaming nipples, and we erupted in simultaneous orgasm. The waves seemed to go on and on for her, and we continued our motion for the longest time. My ejaculation finished much sooner, of course, but the aftershocks continued, my cock twitching with expulsions of lingering drops of cum long after the rocket had left the pad.

I stroked her face, wiping beads of sweat that had gathered all along the hairline. She pushed her twisted head into my hand, like a horse hungry for attention. We kissed, sweetly now, a stark contrast to the passionate, consuming kisses of our lovemaking. But, maybe, truly, it wasn't such a contrast at all. I hadn't seen this deep deep passion in her when first we met at the bar. I had seen a lovely dame, but my work obsession had obscured my vision of her essence. I wondered for a moment what else I might have missed.

There weren't really words to describe what I had just felt, and I suspect that she was feeling the same - and so for the longest time we just stared at each other.

Finally I spoke, "Laney, sweetie, only Republicans fuck with such aggression as that." A smile crept over her face, and we both burst out in laughter.

Wow. That was the only word for it.

When he spoke the bit about being Republican... we both cracked up.

"Change parties Win?" I asked, still giggling.

Damn. That was wonderful. At least he had given me a graceful exit... with the speech he had to finish and his meeting. So I decided to throw some a couple of his words back to him.

"Cad? Not a cad Mr. Candidate, but I need sleep too."

I gathered my things and put them on watching him as I did. He seemed so ... relaxed. Not his usual guarded expression.

"And my offer still stands, you want some help, let me know."

I kissed him, and was out the door.

I didn't really sleep the rest of the night. I didn't turn on my laptop either. I just thought of what transpired and wondered what the hell I was going to have to do to get past it.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

I didn't need to ask if it had been good for her, too. We both had genuine smiles from our unexpected coupling, and felt disappointment that our jobs required us now to move on. Lane gathered her wardrobe and wore it well.

"And my offer still stands, you want some help, let me know." , she kissed me sweetly, and was gone, leaving me with a jumble of thoughts to untangle. Some of my best thinking comes in the company of aged spirits, so I walked naked back to the barin the living room, and poured myself one last bourbon. As I sipped I thought of calling the wonder boy, but instead dialed the desk, and asked them to give him a 6am wake-up call. They tell me I have a message, and I hesitate, wondering if I should just have them read it to me, a dangerous idea without a doubt. "Thanks, I'll be down in a few minutes"

"No problem, Mr Peoples, we'll send it up."

"Why, thanks, Jack."

And I called Paige, my personal assistant, hoping to get an update on what I had missed since the press conference. She didn't answer -- asleep already as most sane people would be, or out herself enjoying D.C.'s nightlife? I was sure she'd call me as soon as she could. I put the finishing touches on the campaign finance statement, listened for a few moments to the dreadful news of little Shrub's new offensive on Iraq, wondering how he could possibly believe it would help our long-term interests in the world to alienate practically the whole world to get some oil. But oil may be all he understood, so I didn't dwell on the tiny brains at work in the highest level of government.

I stepped out onto the terrace, still naked in the chill capitol air, and sat watching the bustle go by below me, amazed that even at this hour masses of people moved about this town. Worse than Manhattan. I felt myself nodding off finally, when the buzzer startles me, and I remember the message. I open the door only slightly, trying to hide my lack of clothes from the cute courier at the door. She passes the envelope through the door, and I ask her to wait a moment, while I grab a few bucks from my pants. As I return I catch her peeking, and feeling not the least bit embarassed by it. She grins, nods her thanks, and politely goes on her way. I open the note:

Mr Peoples:

My name is Madeline Snow. I have a Master's Degree in Sociology from John Hopkins. I believe that I could be of some assistance with your campaign.

If you are interested in speaking with me, I will once again be working in the bar tomorrow night.

I look forward to speaking with you.

Madeline Snow

Hmmmmm, the bartender. I thought she seemed like more than the usual mixologist.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

OOC: FYI for you both... Maddi, spicy dish, is dealing with rt that's why posts are so sporadic and so much time between them.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

OOC

OOC: FYI for you both... Maddi, spicy dish, is dealing with rt that's why posts are so sporadic and so much time between them.

that's fine, of course, take your time
real life comes first
best wishes for spicy

in the meantime, if someone else once to introduce
a character, there's room for all

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

OOC: while some of our characters are taking a much needed time-out, i'd like to invite others to get involved. we even take republicans, tho we don't guarantee we'll be nice to them
it's a pretty wide open thread at this point, so if you have an idea or a character you'd like to develop, just jump in.

IC:
Rip did fine at the morning interview, charming each of the players in his own unique way. They didn't go easy on him, but he proved himself capable of the challenge, pushing his wit, wisdom and fortitude out front. They awarded him the coveted position of press liaison before he even learned of the unpleasant withdrawal of his predecessor. Fenton Formlas had found the task beyond his abilities, and had resigned shortly after the press conference that has reduced him to tears. Nobody informed Rip of how vicious the press had become on our campaign trail, but they all felt he would be capable, at least until he was worn down.

While he was taken downtown to get settled into his office, I proceeded on to a photo op at the Capitol Mall. A large anti-war group had staged an impromtu rally there and invited me to be among the speakers. We arrived to a far larger crowd than any of us had expected, and it appeared to be equally divided between flag-waving patriots and those patriots who believed that this war was about lining the pockets of the 'Little Shrub's' buddies.

When the time came for me to speak, I realized that having prepared no notes, I was going to have to extemporize. "Good morning. I recognize that it will be hard for us to all find common ground here, because this war is a subject that polarizes many good people on both sides of the battle. I'm not here to convert anyone. I'm certainly not here to convince you to love America any less than you do. What's going on right now is not about how great America is -- we all agree on that subject. That IS our common ground. I ask you only to take a close look, a real close look, a realistic look at WHY we are at war. The President would like you to believe that it is about national security, about 9/11, about the greatness of our country, about the evil of Saddam Hussein."

I paused looking around the area for signs of trouble, but so far I seemed to have everyone on the same page. "That's NOT what this war is about." Some jeers rose up from the crowd. "We all know those things are true. That's why they try to draw your attention there, becasue they know how hard it would be for anyone to argue those points. I ask you only this: Who is making money from this war? Please don't trivialize the importance of this question, because it says everything about the WHY of it. Please, please, please, try to take an unbiased, close hard look at the answer to that question. I have -- and when you do -- you may realize that the real patriotism comes not from blindly following the corporate interests that direct this conflict, that actually benefit from fanning the flames of death. True patriotism comes from knowing the truth, and acting bravely in the face of it. I come here today trusting that each and every one of you has what it takes to take an informed and heartfelt stand of your own about what this country REALLY stands for." I looked around the mall, and found that while I didn't have everyone's attention, more than I would have expected were riveted by my improvised remarks.

"Thank you -- and please, tell your congresspeople how you feel. Your thoughts can make a difference if you will only express them."

 

[Somme]

http://www.scoop.co.nz/mason/stories/HL0304/S00097.htm

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

OOC to SOMME:

Thank you so much for the link. I'm less than half through it and haven't stopped nodding yes in agreement as yet.

I shall pass it on far and wide here in the US, I assure you, as all of us support those thrown in 'harm's way' but damned few of those who can see past the propaganda being ladled out with earth moving bucket scoops buy into the male bovine excrement coming out of the The Resident's mouth or that of his lock stepping, or should that be goose stepping, followers, and by the way I'm not a liberal either. I'm a registered Indepentent and hope to have a 'real of, for and by the people candidate' to vote for one day.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

OOC To Somme again:

Thank you once more for the link. I'm going to include it in my Signature Line to is won't be lost as it drops back in the pages of the story.
I do hope that all will take the few minutes needed to read it with an open mind, then think about it to reach there own conclusions about what is being said. Perhaps at the same time reflect back on how many of our Constitutionally guaranteed rights have been ignored and abridged by the gov't under the guise of 'fighting terrorism', which could, sadly, come from other than abroad to bolster the claims and keep those in power- in power.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

I stepped back into the crowd and tried to mingle. Lots of people would stop me, wish me well, ask me what I thought about such and such. Occassionally I even would get flirted with. So it was slow walking, but I had always enjoyed people watching, probably one of the things that drew me to political life in the first place. And I was still trying to assemble the right team to take me all the way to The White House in 2004, so I was always looking for undiscovered talent at my campaign stops.

I had asked Rip to meet me for lunch so we could do some brainstorming for next week's events, but that still gave me a few hours to explore.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

As I worked the crowd I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of Laney just twenty feet away. A wave of embarrassment came over me, unusual for me, and I was torn between trying to slip away without being noticed, or getting up close enough to see if there was still a magic for us, even without the bourbon.

A fan touched my arm telling me how much she had enjoyed my speech, and how much she hoped that I could make it to the seat of power.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Lane

I watch as Win works the crowd and smile. He certainly did have a way.

I remember the passion we shared and feel a shudder. Jesus... How bloody unprofessional. I probably shouldn't have gotten so intimate with him.

I feel myself walking toward him in the crowd, moving through the masses of fanatics eager to touch the MAN. Was this what I was supposed to be doing? Dammit.. I seem to have a hard time concentrating.

I move until I stand just behind him, a little to the side.

"Can I have your autograph?" I ask with a smile.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

I had to admit I wasn't in this for the thrill of campaigning. Some politicians thrived on that attention, their adrenaline driving them all the way to political success, and then they would fumble as they tried to figure out the totally different job of governing. But for me, campaigning was something I had to do in order to get into a position where I could make a difference. I was convinced, perhaps naively, that once people saw my commitment to make life better, that future campaigns would be less stifling to my own personal life and living. But that was certainly naive, because special interests would be sure to make my life hell if I became successful enough to enact my agenda.

In the meantime I would have to suffer throught he endless photo ops, inane press conferences, and the eternal pressing of flesh that lined my road to the White House. As I turned from one eager admirer to another, "Can I have your autograph?" I heard at my side. The voice vibrated deep within me, and I turned, having forgotten my earlier sighting of her, to stare into the beautiful eyes of Laney. Without thinking, I embraced her, lustfully, but also as I would a long lost friend, someone with whom I had shared meaningful times. Then I realized how inappropriate it was, for the space we were in, and for the uncertainty of our bond.

Laney seemed unruffled by my enthusiasm, but I felt the need to apologize anyway, "Sorry, love, that was probably more greeting than you were looking for, but I'm really happy to see you." I thought about the double entendre of that line, and tried to discreetly check the bulge in my pants to see if it showed. "I'm really glad you came over last night, I hope you don't have any regrets." I looked around to see if anyone might be listening in to our chat, and was relieved to find that the crowd was mostly focused now on a new speaker, the right Reverend Irving Jones, hoping to make it to congress the hard way, by being honest. She looked back without speaking, but with a silent acknowledgement that she was happy to have been there for me.

"Laney, can we talk? Like really just be honest, totally honest with each other? I truly like you," and in a whisper "not to mention the sex was out of this world." She smiled. "But I'm pretty sure I'm discerning that you are not here for the campaign, and I don't think you're here for, you know, the sex , so I just want to try to get clear with you, cause I would like you to be working with us. But if you need to serve a different master, I'll understand, and I'll still lov... er, like you just as much, but, you see what I mean, I can't just give you the keys to the castle if you're just here for the good silver. You know what I mean?"

I looked at her like a little boy trying to ask out the prom queen. It wasn't my finest moment, and DUH, I realized that she wasn't about to be honest with me anyway, but the only way I knew how to confront such questions was head on.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

All right. I admit it. When he embraced me it sent a shiver through me I hoped like hell he didn't notice.

Can we talk and be honest? Yeah, if I wanted a really long trip to nowhere fast.

Keeping my face carefully neutral, smiling, was so very hard. His mention of the sex... and for a moment I can still feel him in me. He's canny. As careful as I have been, he knows somehow... I have other motivations.

I didn't come into this job thinking to have real FEELINGS about him. I didn't have sex with him to have his secrets. I thought I had sex because it had been so bloody long since I had it, I needed it.

I don't need this to get messier and cloud my judgment. Yet, that is what it's doing. Dammit, he's really good at faking honesty or he's really sincere.

For a moment, I'd do anything to be out of the political arena, out of Washington, out of a job. Just to sit with him and see what could come of it. To get to know him, laugh with him. Let my guard down. For God's sake, I want to run my hands over his brow and sooth him. I want to pull him close and have his arms slide around me.

I realize he's waiting for an answer.

My mouth opens and words come before I can run them through the censoreship fellows residing in my head.

"I'd like to see more of you Win. Helping or not. Want to just start as friends? Have a drink? Go to lunch? Eat a late dinner?" I hestitate a bit as I filter through what I just said. I have to make a stab at it.

"We can talk of whatever you like, you can test my motivations if you are uneasy."

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

Laney stared at me for what seem like forever, smiling, but otherwise blank in all the facial features I had learned to read so well. Perhaps that's what worried me about her - she was as good at being a blank page as I was at speed-reading people's intentions. Didn't matter really -- I could tell already that I was running down a parallel course with her. I was going to try the impossible. I was going to try to keep my private and professional lives separate, while being a politician. I was nuts!

Her face was intoxicating to me. Maybe it was more so because I had to look so deep in such a futile search for information. I loved a challenge. Why else would I be taking on The Little Shrub at the height of his popularity, and at the same time vie with the Democratic dwarves for media attention? Well that was a commitment of a whole different kind. Laney WAS different. I could probably just have casual sex with her whenever we wanted to go there. But, damn it! I really liked her, despite the nagging feeling that we were about as opposite as we could be, philosophically. And I didn't want this to be JUST about sex.

"I'd like to see more of you Win. Helping or not. Want to just start as friends? Have a drink? Go to lunch? Eat a late dinner?" There! She said it. Could I believe her? "We can talk of whatever you like, you can test my motivations if you are uneasy." I wanted to, but that was I far as I could go with it. Desire. Damn it all!

"THAT would be great, Laney." I couldn't believe those words escaped my mouth, and I instantly felt smaller for them, not because I had succumbed to my desire, but because the phrase itself was soooooo trite and overused. "I know a place where nobody goes, we could get a booth, great food, take our time, and explore under the surface. I really like you, kid. You touch me in a very unusual way, and I just don't quite get it, but I think I want to. Does that make any sense?" I waited for a cameraman to pop out from behind the mall shrubbery, and go "Ah HAH!", but no one did, and I took another breath, and stared at her sweet face.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Lane

"I'd love to Win." The grin on my face felt huge. Then I did something I haven't done in years.

I blushed - just hearing the way the words came out of me. Damn.

Me, the one that's supposed to get the goods on him. Sabotage his campaign. Dammit. I'm not supposed to FEEL. I should run quickly the other way. My god. What am I doing? A little shiver hits me, the sexual shiver of rememberance. It was so good with him. Is that it? Just the need for sex? As much as I want to tell myself yes. I'm afraid it's not all it is.

Pushing that thought down as deep as I can get it, I finally look back up into his eyes.

He's sort of smiling. He must have seen the blush. And I'm damned if I don't blush again. ME. BLUSHING.

"OKAY - so I blush."

Then I laugh. I can't help it really.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

"I'd love to Win." Laney blushed, making her even more appealing, and then, self-conscious of her blush, turned an even deeper crimson. Be both laughed, and let go of our nervousness. I cradled her face in my warm hand and gave her a provocative kiss, without lingering.

"Ok, I'll see you at Sammi's, down on Mill St. The neighborhood's a little rough, but don't let that scare ya. Around seven good?" I touched her cheek again, and then her neck, her shoulder, along her bare arm. If I wasn't careful the campaign would end right here.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Lane

"That's fine Win, seven."

I am glad that my voice is so normal and that I'm able to hold in the shiver that threatened when he ran his hand from my cheek to my arm.

With a smile, I turn on my heel and fade through the crowd, almost running before I calm down enough to hail a taxi to the hotel.

To tell the truth, I'm very surprised that he kissed me there in the crowd, not once but twice. It worried me that it was with so many people about. If no one got pictures, if no hill gossip writes of it, it'll surprise me. Why would Win do that? And what the hell will my boss say when he's briefed on it? Well, hopefully nothing will be said.

Once in my room I am on my laptop first thing, flying through the protocol, to get to my secure site and the first message on the screen is a grainy low-res photo of Win and me.

With the message flashing on the screen:

"GOOD WORK".

Dammit.
Dammit.
I slam the top down and barely resist the urge to send it flying out the window. It's not what I want. I don't want them thinking I'm screwing the man as a part of my job.

Is that what I'm doing? No. I already came to that conclusion. I don't think I can do this. I didn't expect his warmth and passion. I didn't expect to genuinely care for him.

My boss. His popularity was soaring. He's taken some shots, but for the most part is holding steady with the events of the day.
With a sigh, I open the laptop again and begin a SITREP to the boss.

"I have found nothing to use. He doesn't appear to have any exploitable angles."

Perhaps the shortest report I've given. As I stare at the words, a thought comes to me. Why can't I quit? I have enough dirt on both parties to make them nervous. Enough to have to look over my shoulder the rest of my life, or enough to persuade them to allow me to be... "Lane".

And just why am I thinking this? For Win? For a man I've just met?

With a decisive gesture, I send the message and shut down. Pouring a drink I move into the chair near the window, pulling my legs up and sipping.

Maybe not just for a man. Maybe just because I'm tired of it all. I'm at the point that politics, parties, any of them, are useless. I've lost the blush of political hope that a party, man or woman can make a difference. I'm tired of gathering dirty laundry. I'm tired of changing my name with every new assignment. I'm tired of not being able to have friends, meeting people I like and not being able to be honest with them.

As the afternoon melts into evening, I watch the light change. It's beautiful, spring. With a deep sigh, I get up and start the shower. I have but an hour to meet Win. Teettering on whether to send him a message to tell him I can't make it, still I get ready.

The doorman gets me a cab and I am at Sammi's by a couple minutes past 7. I'd dressed casually, in a slightly shorter and less tailored dress with sandals and left my hair down to soften my face. I just want to be a woman tonight, on a date, getting to know an interesting man.

I arrive before Win. Sitting at the bar, sipping a drink, I know when he comes in. Not because I see him, but the tingle on the back of my neck announces his presence. I'm glad he's not too late, I'd began admonishing myself for having such childish hopes of being able to...

When I turn to look he is there, a smile lighting his features.

 

[TheOlderGuy]

Win

Our rendevous set, I stumbled around for the rest of the day meeting the players who had my political future in the palm of their hands. I managed to tend to all the details that I needed to but my edge was gone, I was asleep in many ways, reliving the dream of last night with Laney. I had convinced myself it was to be a one night stand, and that I would have be satisfied with that. It was hard not to be completely satisfied with the experience, but it was harder still not to yearn for more, not just more of the same, but more of her. She was dazzling, she was one of the brightest women I had ever known, coupled with that killer bod, and the courage to use it -- well, let's just say that Winton Peoples was smitten, lay down, run me over, in love.

From meeting to meeting I wandered, always seeing her face in front of mine, always inhaling the sweet smell of her juices being reheated on my back burner. At last freed from my harried schedule, I ran back to the hotel to shower and change, dressing very casual, leaving my hair tousled, and all remnants of the candidate in my room. I grabbed my shades from the nightstand and took one more long look in the mirror. Yeah, I think I can slip outta here without being recognized. I hope Laney can appreciate a loose cotton Hawaiian print shirt tucked into baggy cargo pants. I slipped on sandals and headed out the door, taking the back stairs, and the employees entrance by the kitchen.

I had time to walk the twenty blocks to Sammi's and I used the time to change gears, to remove the rest of the rat race from my addled brain. I was sick of the pace already, and we were just beginning. And I knew by now that my strong views on how this country should change its course was going to be a tough one to sell to many. I suspected that Laney might be among the unconvinced, but she had been respectful of my convictions, or at least cleverly careful about revealing her own.

As I walked into Sammi's many eyes checked me out, but only Sammi seemed to recognize me. She flashed me a wide grin, and nodded her head over to the far corner of the bar. Not even sure how Sammi knew who I was meeting, I verified that the angel I sought was perched just ten yards away. I slide in behind her, and she turns to acknowledge me, her smile lighting the darkness. Before she can speak, I wrap strong arms around her shoulders and envelope her with a deeper than hello kiss, but keeping it brief in the hopes it will go mostly unnoticed beyond present company. She looks startled and begins to say something. I place one index finger to her pouty lips, "Laney, no shop talk tonight, OK? Let's just leave it all behind for now. I want to really get to know you, the real you, the you that you see when you're feeling your finest, or your saddest. But not what whoever those corporate thugs you work for see."

She looked at me as if she understood. I took her elbow and helped her from the stool, nodding at Sammi to follow us with drinks, and glided Laney into the deep dark corner booth. Only then did I remove my shades and stare into her marvelous orbs.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

He looks good. Very casual and evidently the veneer of the candidate is left at the hotel. He looks younger, more open. And I feel myself relaxing. For the first time in months, I relax and can smile at him, openly.

“Okay, no shoptalk, no Mr. Candidate for you and no chatting of my work for me.” I take a sip of one of the best drinks I can remember tasting and look at him over the rim of the glass. “I could tell you how much fun I had last night, but I guess you already know that.”

“Yeah, Laney, I figured that. Me too.”

“It’s a little hard to make small talk Win. We sort of skipped the preliminaries last night.” I like the smile I get from that statement and grin.

“Okay, so what do you do when not campaigning? Any sports interests, hobbies?” We both start to laugh and for the next hour or so we are able to converse lightly, feeling each other out with words and our likes and dislikes.

We order and eat, trading stories, anecdotes from childhood, some embarrassing moments in our lives and really, just have fun together. Underneath it all though, we are busy. Busy sizing up one another, I imagine. I watch the way his expression changes from topic to topic, notice the way his hand grips the knife to cut his food. I watch his mouth move with his words and I feel a slow tension building under the surface of our light conversation.

The light in Sammi’s gets more intimate as the sun fades from the sky and the front window. There are more shadows now and I find myself leaning forward, towards Win, our voices pitched lower seemingly in deference to the waning light.

The conversation slows and stops and we both are lost for a bit in our own thoughts. I’m startled when I catch myself staring into his eyes and when his hand reaches for mine, I meet him more than half way. Just a touch, but there’s heat in that touch. With a shaky hand, I finish my drink while he peels some bills off his clip to place on the table. Offering me his hand again, I rise without any thought whatsoever, follow him out of Sammi’s. It’s almost full dark now, the streetlights are on.

We walk a bit and when he draws me into a shadow, my arms go around him and we kiss, until I’m breathless. His hands on my back drawing me closer, my arms around him, moving against him. The passion that’s been lurking in Sammi’s now openly acknowledged. I shiver.

“Where are we going Win?” I ask, somehow I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back to the hotel and I don’t think I’m making assumptions asking the question either.

I feel his arousal and I know I want nothing more than to be in his arms, loving him, feeling him move against me, in me.