Page 55 of Presidential Bargain
On the way home, I sat in the back of the SUV, eager to hear only one voice. I slipped my cell phone from my suit jacket and scrolled until I found Georgie’s name. When she didn’t answer, I hit “END” without leaving a message. I wanted to talk to her, not hervoicemail.
I wasn’t worried about Georgie, though, because while I was in D.C., taking care of business, she was with Avon, campaigning. I was grateful that she and Avon had formed an alliance because Georgie needed someone to lean on, to go to when I wasn’t around. I closed my eyes and leaned against the headrest, enjoying the quiet as we passed through the streetsofD.C.
My condo in D.C. was the exact opposite of the townhouse in Boston. It was cold and sterile, all glass and steel. It was two stories and nearly every single exterior wall was floor-to-ceiling windows. I lived there most of the time and it was comfortable for me. It was enough for the bachelor who brought the occasional woman home for a night, but I couldn’t picture Georgie living there. She belonged in the comfortable elegance of my home in Boston. I made a note to put the condo on themarketsoon.
When I entered the unit, I dropped my bag in the entryway and unloaded my pockets, dropping everything in a tray that sat on a long table. I walked toward the galley kitchen and pulled a beer from the sub-zero refrigerator, then turned toward the entire wall of windows that gave me an incredible view of the city. The lights twinkled in the darkness and in the distance, I could see the glowing dome of the Capital. This view was the reason why I purchased this unit. I felt like a king looking out over my dominion whenever I stood in front of these windows. Now I just felt lost and a little hollow without my queen. I finished my beer quickly and disposed of it in therecyclebin.
I started toward the stairs when I heard my phone ringing. I hurried toward the hall where I’d dropped my things and fumbled for my phone. The caller ID let me know that Georgie was returningmycall.
“Hello? Georgie?” I hoped I’d answered the phone inenoughtime.
“Jameson?” Her voice on the other end was the sweetest sound I ever heard. I closed my eyes and leaned againstthewall.
“Yeah,it’sme.”
“How are you doing? I saw that you called while I was in the bath.” An image of Georgie, up to her neck in bubbles, flickered into my mind and my cock stiffened. I ignored it because there was no way I was wasting a perfectly good erection onmypalm.
“I’m exhausted. I just had dinner with some colleagues andlobbyists.”
“Howwasthat?”
“Awful. They’re the most lecherous senators, but I need their support because they’re all from swing states. Is it terrible of me to hope they get snared in some kind of corruption scandal? Or defeated by the next person whochallengesthem?”
She giggled on the other end and I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. I stretched my legs out in front of me and tried to relax against the hardsurfaces.
“Just give them the worstambassadorships.”
“You’re an evil genius.” I sighed and on the other end, sheechoedit.
“I miss you,” we both said at thesametime.
“One more day and then I’ll see you again. We’ll be hobnobbing withcelebrities.”
I was scheduled to fly out the next night to California. We were going to meet there for the West Coast leg of my campaign. With only a week until the second debate in Phoenix, the schedule was jam-packed. I had a slew of celebrity dinners to attend and while I knew that would be exciting for Georgie, I really didn’t care. Then we would make our way back east. I was working on having the renovations on her family home completed by then and planning to surprise her during a campaign stop in NewHampshire.
“I’d rather hob with your nob,” she repliedcheekily.
I laughed out loud, the sound thunderous in the nearly emptyhallway.
“An evil genius and a sexual deviant? I definitely picked the rightwoman.”
“Of courseyoudid.”
“Georgie?”
“Yes,Jameson?”
“What’s your favoriteSpringsteensong?”
“Is this really an importantquestion?”
“Of course it is. I take The Boss veryseriously.”
“Today it’s ‘Thunder Road’,” shereplied.
“Good choice. Sleep well, littledarling.”
California was warm and sunny,but all that mattered was seeing Jameson tonight. The flight was long and I spent the entire time wrapped up in his policy. The bound books he printed for me, containing everything I needed to know about Jameson politically, kept me connected to him. I learned so much about him reading through these proposals. He was a complete humanist; many of his proposals demonstrated not only an understanding of the human condition, but also a respect for it. He was also exceptionally fiscally responsible. While he wanted to help as many people as possible, he wasn’t about spending crazy amounts of money. The most astonishing thing about Jameson Martin, the politician, was his ability to find ways to pay for things. He had an incredible knack for numbers that I didn’t completelyunderstand.
