Party Lines (15 page)

The
bedroom was down the hall and to the left. Ron sat down on the bed and cradled
Lindsay in his lap for a moment before guiding her over his lap. She lifted her
hips so he could reach underneath and undo her jeans; she shivered with
anticipation as he slid them down. The panties followed, and Ron felt himself
becoming aroused as her bottom was revealed.

He
ran his hands over the smooth, flawless surface of her firm upturned cheeks and
squeezed he springy flesh of each one. The first blow was light, almost
playful. The second was harder and elicited a little moan from Lindsay, whose
hands clutched the coverlet of the bed. As she writhed provocatively on his
lap, Ron increased the tempo and force of the spanks until Lindsay was on the
edge of losing control.

Then
he stopped and rubbed the heated surface of
skin which
had been cool to the touch moments before.

“Lindsay
Martin,” he said. “Do you promise to love and obey me from this day forth?”

“What
is this?” she asked, laughing.

“Practice
for our wedding vows,” he said. His voice had grown serious. “Do you?”

He
landed another spank on her bottom, this one harder than any of the others. Lindsay
let out a little cry that ended in a whimpering, submissive, “Yes.”

Then,
in a small voice she asked him a question of her own. “Do you, Ron Sharp,
promise to love me, to protect me and to guide me while respecting our
political differences.”

He
smiled down at her.

“With
all my heart I do,” he said. “And I promise never to abuse the power you’ve
given me, but to work daily to be worthy of it.”

He
picked her up from his lap and laid her down on the bed, skimming her jeans the
rest of the way down and off. Then he stood and Lindsay watched as her fiancé
stripped his clothing off before leaning over to finish undressing her.

She
opened her thighs to him as he fell between them. He found her warm and
delightfully wet as he sunk himself in up to the hilt. Lindsay shuddered with
the force of the deep need she felt for him, with the satisfaction of being so
emotionally and physically filled. Her body transmitted this to Ron, who
shuddered with his own satisfaction and came precariously close to losing
control. But he mastered himself, and her, through slow seductive thrusts that
became harder and faster until they were both moaning in mutual fulfillment.

Afterwards,
they held each other for long moments, knowing that no words were needed to
affirm their feelings for one another, that no sentiments could adequately
express the relief they felt at having come together again, this time for good.

***

Red,
white and blue balloons fell from the ceiling amid showers of confetti and
underneath, Clara Faircloth smiled and gave a thumbs up to the crowd of
sign-waving supporters.

“Thank
you! Thank you!” she said until the raucous cheers finally quieted enough for
her to be heard.

“It’s
been a long road to victory, and a nasty one. But not from our side!”

The
crowd cheered again.

“It’s
been said that politics is a ruthless game, and that destroying an opponent is
what is needed to win. But this election has proven otherwise.” She paused for
another cheer. “By waging a positive campaign that remained focused on the
issues, we put our trust in the voters to be what we know they are –
good, honest and honorable. We didn’t play to the hidden or overt hostilities
and prejudices of the populace because we believe those things are in the
minority in this state. And today we proved that the majority of voters not
only want change, but civility.”

More
cheering.

“And
now that we’re where we fought to be, the campaign continues. But this time it
will be for health care and jobs and fair pay – the things that often get
hidden beneath all the campaign squabbling.”

The
cheering went on for minutes now, and Clara Faircloth beamed as the flashbulbs
went off in droves.

“I
got here because of the good people of this state,” she went on. “But I also
got here because I had a good team of people – volunteers who worked
tirelessly going door to door or making phone calls, donors who dug deep to
fund our campaign and finally…” She looked off stage and her eyes filled with
tears.  “…
a
devoted and visionary young woman who
went through her own personal hell to get us where we are today, a young woman
with what I believe is a bright future in a world of better and cleaner
politics. Lindsay Martin, come on out here.”

Lindsay
felt her face flush red. She preferred to be on the sidelines, but knew she
couldn’t deny Clara tonight.

“Go
on,” Ron Sharp said. He looked down at her, his eyes as full of pride as
Clara’s as he gave her back a little push. As she walked out towards the
podium, he cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

The
couple had not announced their engagement, worrying that it would be too much
of a distraction. Nor had they told Clara that both would be taking a break
from political campaigning to become political analysts. The cable executive
that was planning to hire them  - a friend of Ron’s – knew about the
engagement and figured Ron Sharp and Lindsay Martin would be the hottest
political couple since Carville and Matalin.

Later,
Lindsay would not remember what she had said to the crowd. But she would
remember the way Ron had looked at her offstage, his eyes full of love and
support – his very presence the rock to which she could anchor.

It
had been a tough campaign, but more than one victory had been one. Of that she
was certain.

THE
END