Parties in Congress (34 page)

Bijal smiled at the acknowledgment. Perhaps the anti-gay ad had not made its way back on the air because Janet had finally come to her senses and recognized it was the right thing to do.

“That being said,” Janet continued, “we’ll receive little, if any, assistance at this point from the NRCC. Which leads to my next piece of news. Our finance manager has made it clear that due to sharply declining donations and unexpected expenses, our coffers are basically empty. For all of you paid staffers, today will be the last day I can afford your salary. I realize that you’ve all put my election and its daily chores ahead of your own lives in many instances, and I want to thank you deeply for your remarkable dedication and loyalty, even in the face of mishaps and falling poll numbers. For those of you who can’t stay on, I absolutely understand. But for those of you who possibly can, I invite you to keep working with me for the next few weeks. Help me get my message out—the message I should have been sending all along—and see this through to the end.”

Bijal was thoroughly caught off guard. She’d never expected a layoff. Though, sadly, the notion wasn’t without portent or plausibility. In all her research, perhaps she should have looked closer at the watertight integrity of the very ship in which she was sailing.

Campaign workers began to mill about in shock, the mood shifting to that of general malaise and confusion. It was one thing for people to work on a losing team and be compensated, but when asked to simply volunteer and then take a beating, that was quite a different issue.

Janet approached Bijal and Kristin, who still sat speechless. “If only I’d been that eloquent and direct when I’d started this damn thing.”

“It’s not over yet,” Bijal said.

“Is that what your new numbers say?” Janet asked.

“That’s what
I
say,” Bijal replied firmly.

Janet looked contrite. “I’m sorry I put you in a position where you doubted the value of your contribution, Bijal. I let my aspirations overshadow my integrity.”

“It happens,” Bijal said with a shrug.

“But it shouldn’t. Let me know if you’re able to stay on in any capacity, okay? Both of you.”

“I’ll…see what I can do,” Bijal said.

“Me too,” Kristin added. “I just need to figure out some things.”

“Thanks,” Janet said. “I appreciate everything you’ve both done.” She turned and went into her office, shutting the door and leaving everyone else to work out their future.

Kristin nudged Bijal good-naturedly. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said earlier—about seeing signs.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have made that comment about the strap-on. That was out of line.”

“No, I deserved it. I’m a complete idiot.”

Bijal grinned. “No, you just probably need to get out more.”

On Election Night, Bijal stood among the crowd in the hotel conference room, listening to Janet give her concession speech. Her loss didn’t surprise anyone who’d been paying attention, but she had managed to reemerge as a candidate with her veracity reclaimed. Though, of course, to the voters, it simply looked like insincerity and flip-flopping. But at least to those in the know, she regained honor, if not victory.

“Hey,” Kristin said. “That’s a hell of a speech she’s giving. Did you help out with that?”

Bijal shrugged. “I may have thrown a phrase or two into the mix.”

“Uh-huh, right. So now that it’s over, what’s next?”

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll be working for
QPolitic
as a staff writer,” Bijal replied happily.

“I have no idea what that is, but congratulations!”

“They’re an online political magazine that focuses on gay issues.”

Kristin’s joyful expression suddenly seemed to lose a little of its genuineness. “Oh.”

“I’ll be their new sex-toy-and-lubricant correspondent.” Kristin’s face remained frozen, with the exception of her eyebrows, which she, more than likely, was simply unable to control. “I’m kidding,” Bijal said finally.

Kristin laughed at her gullibility. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I probably should have picked something less believable.”

“True. Though if that
had
been true, you could’ve gotten Harlan Zeller as your first interview.”

“Touché.”

“So where’s your girlfriend? I thought I’d finally meet her.”

“She’s working late tonight.”

“Really? What does she do?”

“She’s…in politics too. So it’s kind of a busy night all the way around.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Kristin said, sounding as though she meant it.

“But it’s kind of nice that you wanted to meet her.”

“I’m trying to expand my horizons.”

“By doubling the number of lesbians you know?” Bijal asked.

Kristin smiled. “Exactly.”

At that moment, the crowd burst into applause and Janet waved her way from the podium toward Kristin and Bijal, who were now both clapping excitedly as though they’d been listening.

“That seemed to go over well,” Janet said brightly.

“It was great, Janet,” Kristin replied. “I only wish it’d been an acceptance speech.”

“You and me both,” Janet said. “But, honestly, this was the only speech I bothered to write.”

Bijal felt an obligation to reassure her. “Live and learn, though, right? There’s always next time.”

“That’s right,” Kristin added. “Imagine how much smoother things will go without the learning curve we had this time.”

Janet shook her head slowly. “I’m not so sure there will be a next time.”

“No?” Bijal asked.

“I’m still walking funny from this time,” Janet joked. “But never say never, I guess.”

“There you go,” Kristin said. “Leave your options open.”

“I really owe you both a huge debt,” Janet said, changing the subject. “You hung in there when things were at their worst, even when I stopped paying you. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

Bijal glanced at her watch. “You’re welcome, Janet. Though as much as I hate to say it, I need to run.”

Janet pouted. “You don’t want to stay and enjoy what’s left of the campaign funds?”

“I would, but I have to go meet my girlfriend. I did want to stay through your speech, though.”

“Oh, well, thanks again for everything.” Janet pulled Bijal into a big hug.

“Thank you,” Bijal said earnestly as she stepped back. “I learned a lot.”

“Like, before you speak, always make sure your mic isn’t live?” Janet asked.

Bijal chuckled softly. “
Especially
that.”

“Let me know if you ever need a reference,” Janet said as Kristin and Bijal embraced. “In case you’re applying for a job with someone who’s never heard of me—because, otherwise, my word might not be worth too much.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Janet. Good luck to both of you.” Bijal waved good-bye as she headed for the door.

*

As Bijal entered the K and K, she was surprised at how packed it was. Sue clearly knew how to market an event. Bijal waded through the throng until she managed to squeeze between two women seated at the bar. Bijal gestured until she got Sue’s attention. “Hey, is Col here yet?”

Sue was expertly filling two mugs with draft beer at the same time. “She sure is, honey—beat you here by about five minutes. She’s in the office changing out of her Sunday-go-to-Congress clothes. Go on back.”

“Thanks.” As Bijal wove her way through the crowd of lesbians, she was temporarily stopped by the sight of Fran on the dance floor. She was bending at the waist and rubbing her ass enthusiastically across the crotch of none other than Flayme Coverdale, fisting aficionado. “No fucking way,” Bijal muttered.

With absolutely no interest in being covert, Bijal shifted course toward Fran, finally getting her attention by waving her arms around like she was trying to signal a rescue plane.

Fran whispered something in Flayme’s ear, then slunk over to where Bijal was standing. “What’s up?”

“You
do
know who you’re dancing with, right?”

“I sure do. She signed a copy of her book to me. And let me just say, I flipped through it and that’s some
hot shit
!”

Bijal rubbed her forehead. “Well, be careful. And remember, if it looks like it’s too big, it probably is.”

“If what looks too big?”

“You’ll see.”

Fran’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! Then I better get another drink.” Fran headed back to the bar as Bijal forged ahead to the office, eagerly knocking.

Colleen opened the door just wide enough to see who was there. “Hi,” she said warmly. “C’mon in.”

“Are you decent, Madam Congresswoman?” Bijal stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

“I am, but that can easily be rectified,” Colleen replied smoothly as she unbuttoned her blouse and slid it onto a hanger. “Did you see my speech?”

“No, I was on my way here. Give me the highlights.”

Colleen put on a more informal blue button-up shirt as Bijal openly ogled her. “Something something, implement my socialist agenda…indoctrinate your children, blah blah blah, government takeover. You know, the standard Democratic stuff.”

Bijal laughed. “You’re
so
antagonistic.” She took a step closer and wrapped her arms around Colleen. “It’s a good thing you’re hot too. Otherwise I might be less inclined to jump you.”

Colleen kissed her deeply, then nibbled her way down Bijal’s neck. “In spite of all my liberalism and snarkiness?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bijal marveled at Colleen’s innate ability to reduce her to a small puddle of frothy longing.

“Just how strong is this inclination?”

Bijal ran her tongue along the outside of Colleen’s ear. “Would you like to see the polling data on that?”

“Oh, I definitely would.” Their mouths met again as Bijal traced Colleen’s breast with her right hand. “That’s…very compelling evidence, Ms. Rao.”

“I’m pretty sure I need to do some more in-depth research,” Bijal said lustily.

“A deeper dive?” Colleen asked, her tone rife with innuendo.

“So to speak.”

Bijal kissed Colleen hungrily, becoming rapidly more aroused as their tongues melded.

“I don’t mean to skew your findings,” Colleen breathed, pulling back only slightly. “But in full disclosure, I love you.”

Bijal’s chest tightened and she felt suddenly flushed. “I love you too.”

Colleen squeezed Bijal’s hand. “Maybe we should go out there and be social, because if we stay in here much longer with you looking at me like that, I might be forced to pin you to the wall and tongue you like an after-dinner mint.”

“I’m sorry, were you trying to make a case for
leaving
this room? Because that wasn’t terribly persuasive.” Bijal nipped Colleen’s lower lip playfully.

“God, you’re sexy. How about this? Let’s mingle for about thirty minutes, dance a little, then cut out of here.”

“Deal,” Bijal replied, straightening Colleen’s collar. “Hey, speaking of dancing, Flayme Coverdale appears to be successfully wooing my roommate.”

Colleen tucked her shirt into her pants and checked her appearance in the mirror. “Really? Did you give her a heads-up?”

“That she might end up a little later as Flayme’s personal hand puppet? Uh-huh. That’s apparently not a deterrent for Fran.”

Colleen raised a single eyebrow. “Are you worried?”

“About Fran? No, she’s a big girl.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine she’d need to be to get any enjoyment out of it.”

Bijal winced. “Yikes! You just made me clench a little.”

“Sorry.”

“All ready?”

Colleen paused for a moment. “More important, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you prepared to step into that room as my date? No more sneaking around?”

“Totally. Are you prepared to tell people your girlfriend’s a Republican?”

“Whoa, easy. Let’s not go crazy with this honesty thing.”

Bijal brushed a stray lock of hair out of Colleen’s face. “I don’t know. Your Democratic friends might just be envious. Everyone knows we Republicans are wild women in the sack.”

Colleen grinned. “Good point. You do look particularly sultry tonight.”

“Thanks. I chose this clingy blouse just for you.”

“You spoil me.” Colleen took Bijal tenderly by the hand and opened the office door. “So you won’t mind if I introduce you to colleagues as Mistress Chesty von YumYum, Republican operative and dominatrix?”

“Not at all…Congresswoman Spyxie Sugarbottom.”

“Quite a mouthful.”

Bijal moved closer to Colleen so she could be heard above the thumping dance music. “Truer words were never spoken.”

Colette Moody is an avid fan of history and politics. When she isn’t doing research or crafting scenes for her next romp of a novel, she can be found doing one or more of the following: watching classic films, irrationally screaming at news commentaters on the television, meticulously recreating cocktails from the 30s and 40s, or planning her next trip to Disneyland. By day, her alter ego toils at what she fondly refers to as her “crap job.” She lives in Virginia with her very naughty dog and her only slightly less naughty partner.