The Syndicate - by Ashblonde (~FFA, ~BHM, Romance)

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agouderia

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... I am still dying to find out how this triangle untangles itself!

.... and I can totally relate to your love of the Delacroix painting, there is no better image of portraying freedom as feminine and sexy! ;)

What I always also found really intringueing is Delacroix's back story as probably being the illegitimate son of Napoléon's legendary foreign minister Talleyrand (... I once wrote a paper on Talleyrand's illegitimate offspring and their political role under Napoléon III - highly entertaining subject) ... but the French have always had a different approach to the combination of sex and politics ......
 

ashblonde

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What I always also found really intringueing is Delacroix's back story as probably being the illegitimate son of Napoléon's legendary foreign minister Talleyrand (... I once wrote a paper on Talleyrand's illegitimate offspring and their political role under Napoléon III - highly entertaining subject) ... but the French have always had a different approach to the combination of sex and politics ......
Funny! I did a paper on JL David... the neo-classic style invoking bourgeousie enlightenment principals... Of course that ended up with less sex and more head chopping, really, so you had the WAY better assignment.

But my favorite era is Rococo (my avatar is an indication), the antithesis of Neo-classicism. I'm more for lush opulence than rigid form and style, obviously ;)

Life has been hectic, hope to update one of these days.
 

NYC_FFA

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Funny! I did a paper on JL David... the neo-classic style invoking bourgeousie enlightenment principals... Of course that ended up with less sex and more head chopping, really, so you had the WAY better assignment.

But my favorite era is Rococo (my avatar is an indication), the antithesis of Neo-classicism. I'm more for lush opulence than rigid form and style, obviously ;)

Life has been hectic, hope to update one of these days.
TEASE! I saw that you had posted, and I thought that Part 9 was up. :(
 

ashblonde

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Part 9

"Mr. Winters is traveling for a few days, he'll be back next week," I was told by our intern assistant. I felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment. I wasn't sure if he would treat me differently after our weird exchange a few nights earlier, or if he would pretend like nothing ever happened; but that didn't stop me from missing his heavyweight handsomeness around the office.

I obsessed all week about Grant and it caught up with me. I was going to miss a deadline if I didn't finish the mailer that was due to the printer the next day. I went in on Sunday when I knew it would be quiet and I could just focus.

I walked in, saw Grant's office door open and panicked. Before I could turn around and shoot back out the door, he poked his head out, "Oh, hello Ms. Stewart," he seemed unruffled, dressed like it was any other work day, clean and fresh shaven in his coat and tie.

I, on the other hand, was au naturale with my hair pulled into a tousled ponytail, no makeup, and wearing my lavender spandex yoga top and pant set. I had hoped to stop by the gym on the way home, so I figured it would be a hassle to get made up and dressed for work. Now I wanted to kick myself for forgetting that Grant was a workaholic every day of the week.

"Um, hi," was all I managed to eke out in response. I promptly dropped my newspaper on the ground and nearly dropped my coffee too.

He stood against his doorway with his arms crossed and an amused grin on his face, "You're casual today."

"I didn't expect to find anyone else here this morning," I admitted, picking up the paper self-consciously.

"Huh," he noticed the paper I was reading, "The Citizen?"

"Just keeping tabs on the enemy," I deflected his curiosity. The Citizen was an apologist rag for the Equalitarians, but its slant was right up my alley.

"Good thinking, Ms. Stewart," and with that he went back into his office.

I fired up my laptop and dug into the project I needed to finish. I didn't like the grammar, so I figured I'd better run it past Grant. I was still a little self-conscious about my body revealing attire, but I was always happy for the opportunity to talk to him in his office.

I knocked at his door. "Come in," he called out.

I leaned in, "Sorry to bug you, but I wanted your opinion on this," I pointed to the text. He had his suit coat off so I could observe his bulk resting fully around him in his chair. He really had a sexy shape with his nice balance of broadness and soft flab.

"Yeah, I agree that's not right," he scribbled some ideas down and handed them to me. He was brilliant; there was no doubt about it.

"That was fast," I gushed, "I guess I can see why you're in charge of communications."

"Can I get your opinion now?" He ignored my praise, stood up and walked over to a map of the district on a corkboard mounted on the wall. Watching his body move never got old for me.

"Sure," I smiled, "although I don't know if I'm really a strategy girl," I played dumb. I figured I probably knew more about the district than he did, considering my exposure to both parties' research.

"We're working on quantifying the 'hot button' issues by region so the Congressman's speeches are more targeted. We've done the polls and focus groups, but I need a reality check on the data at this point… you know, anecdotal insight."

"My anecdotal insight?" I was momentarily surprised and flattered. That didn't seem like an angle that Freedomists used in their strategy anyway; they were always stats oriented. Grant was obviously not as dogmatic as I had assumed.

He handed me color coded pins to place where I thought certain issues were most important to voters by region, wanting to compare it with his quantified research. I placed them logically according to obvious demographic trends, skewed to Freedomist ideology, to cover my tracks.

He walked back over and stood next to me, eying my work. I glanced along him sideways and got a full view of his belly hang. I shivered with desire thinking about gently cupping and massaging his softness. Reaching up and placing more pins, I realized he was getting his own show. My top was cut a little short so when I raised my arms my own bare waist was in full view. I imagined his big hands on my body, hoping that he liked what he saw.

When I was done, he grabbed his own pins and placed them according to his data. Most of our pins lined up, but there were a few key places they didn't and he began to press me, "Why on earth would you think that the 8th Ward would care about immigration?"

"There's a growing population from Goorland there," I reasoned. There wasn't anything new about that trend; both sides knew the changing demographics on the lower east side of town.

"I really don't think they're a factor here," he argued, his tone getting arrogant.

"Seriously?" I questioned him.

"The data doesn't suggest they're a significant voting block," he continued. "Really Ms. Stewart, I thought you were more up on this district," he mocked me.

I got angry, "You can go ahead and do whatever you want, but you're lost in myopia if you believe there's nothing transitional going on in the 8th," I let my emotions get to me. I was supposed to be a dumb follower but Grant had me off my game and riled me up. "And would you call me Nora for crying out loud?"

He looked at me, sort of stunned that I would take the boss to task like that. Then he smiled and softened, "You're feistier than you lead on."

Damn he's cute when he smiles, I thought. "I'm sorry Mr. Winters, it's just been a tough week," I tried to revert back to my nice-girl character. I went to hand him the rest of the pushpins when they dropped all over the floor.

"Ugh, I'm a klutz, sometimes," I was quick to get down on the floor to pick them up. He surprised me by getting down on his knees and helping. I noticed that his size didn't make it easy for him so I tried to stop him, "Just let me get them."

"I realize I'm a big guy, but I can handle bending over," he snapped back sarcastically.

"I didn't mean you couldn't, I just..." I was speechless. I hated the idea that he would think I didn't respect his amazing body.

We didn't say anything then for a few moments. I found myself moving closer to where he was on the floor. He glanced at me, looked down and then looked back up. I caught his gaze, leaned into his space and kissed him on the lips. I felt pure electricity through my body when he started to kiss back, but almost immediately he pulled away and heaved himself up on his feet.

I looked up at him, but he didn't look at me. He glanced at his watch, "I have a lunch meeting, I have to go. He walked over to grab his briefcase. I stood up, feeling like an idiot. He had just totally rejected me and I felt mortified. Without saying anything, I walked out of his office, grabbed my bag and left.

Fighting back tears, I headed over to the gym and kicked the crap out of the heavy bag. After a couple of hours I was exhausted, but I knew I had to finish my project. I went back to the office, grinded out the draft and slipped it under Grant's door for final approval.

When I came back to the office on Monday, I found his note on it with an "okay" of approval. I felt emptier than ever. After the move I made on him and his awkward departure, that one scribble of his handwriting seemed to sum up his regard for me: just "okay."

Grant was out for a couple of more days, and all I heard was he was at a "high level party meeting," nothing more. I started to experience a general malaise that I hadn't ever felt before. My work seemed pointless and like it going nowhere and Grant clearly wasn't interested in me. Finally, I texted Jason to meet; I wanted out of this campaign.


 

Tad

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I'd not been keeping up with this board.....so I just had the treat of reading this from the beginning, just now :) Really, really, good.
 

SanDiega

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I almost screamed when I saw that you has started writting a new story. I love it.
 

Fangs

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Your stories are always so amazing.

It's sexy, but it's always more than just smut.

:bow:

Please update soon!

and let us know if you ever write a book! I'd buy it!
 

NYC_FFA

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I love this story. :wubu: Please, please write a new installment soon!
 

ashblonde

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Part 10

While Jason was supposed to be working on finding me something new, I caught a nasty flu bug and stayed in bed for a few days. I didn't care, though. Between the futility of trying to thwart an imminently successful campaign and having to accept Grant's rejection, I was fine just letting the world move on without me.

But I didn't expect the shock I got when I returned to the office the following week. Grant had been hired away from the Davis campaign to manage the operation of a high-profile Independent candidate running for Senator. Immediately, I researched his new campaign and found out the headquarters was a good 45-minute train ride away in Brighton. Part of me wanted to jump on that train right away and track him down, but then I remembered his general disregard for me and couldn't bear another letdown.

It was late September and the primaries were over. The Congressman was all but re-elected and now saving his war chest for the next campaign. There was very little work left for me to do, so in addition to my gloominess over Grant, I was bored at work. I had to get out on my terms and I told Jason that I was going to give my notice.

"It's no longer a good time to try and slip into a new job," he advised me. He was right. Anyone who joined a campaign a month or two before an election was always viewed with suspicion and never given any kind of access.

"Then I'm just going to take some time off, you know? Get a legit job waitressing or something like that," I told him as assertively as I could. It was a little scary out there without backup though; I wasn't sure how to be myself in an honest job.

"Okay Ellie, just keep in touch. In the meantime, I'll work on finding you something in the next cycle." He seemed surprisingly fine with my decision, but I think he sensed I was burned out and that he would lose me forever if he pressed me. Burnout wasn't uncommon in our risky business.

I knew I needed to deliver my resignation in person and not burn bridges. However, with Grant gone, I no longer had a boss. I decided to go and see Dan directly at his congressional office. I didn't have an appointment and his assistant coldly snubbed me. I handed her my letter of resignation to give to Dan and walked out. Within ten minutes, my cell phone rang.

"Nora, please turn around and come back here. Let's talk about this," Dan's voice was on the other end.

"Your assistant didn't think I was important enough to see you," I taunted him.

"She was just doing her job," he reasoned. "Besides, she's been trying to protect me from all of the admirers I have. You wouldn't believe it lately," I could hear his voice beaming through the phone.

I turned around and trudged back up the long cascade of steps to his office. I could leap up those steps like a gazelle with my running shoes on, but I hated doing them in my Gucci peep toe pumps. They were sexy, but they were not meant for government buildings. I painfully made it back up to his office. At least I got to smile triumphantly at his assistant while he greeted me in.

"I want to thank you," Dan sat down and folded his hands across his tummy, drawing my attention to his recent reduction. I couldn't tell whether he was showing off his weight loss or hiding it from me.

"For?" I raised my eyebrow skeptically. He hadn't spoken more than a sentence or two to me since our ill-fated liaison at the Grand Eastern.

"For getting me back on track," he looked at me intently.

"Oh," was all that came out of my mouth. At first I didn't know quite what he meant, but he had changed. The visual evidence was apparently only part of the story.

"You forced me to realize what was important to me," he continued with a smile of satisfaction.

"And what was that?" I asked, wishing he would stop being smug and say what he really meant.

"My family, my career, my health," he enumerated, like he had been coached on talking points.

"I'm not sure how I did that for you," I acted uncertain, but I figured out where he was going.

"Absolutely, Nora," he leaned forward, "you reminded me how important those things are. I realized how close I had been to losing it all just for a roll in the hay with you."

"It would have been nice," I grinned, keeping it light. I was being honest though. There was no more need for me to flirt with him, but the bigger version of the Congressman with his thick hands on my bare behind was still a lovely memory.

"Don't you start that now," he smiled but took a serious tone, "It took a few weeks for my anger at you to wear off."

"I'm not starting anything, Dan. I totally respect your resolve and think it's great you've put things right for yourself," I humored him. "And I probably deserve some of that anger, but I never meant to upset you. I was just really attracted to you and I didn't get those feelings in check until we were in the middle of it."

"Literally in the middle of it," he gently scolded me.

"I know," I was sheepish to a fault. I honestly did still feel a little guilty, but knowing that I was just doing my job for the party seemed to conveniently ease my conscience.

"I can't help but think about what it would have been like," he became a little less pious.

"Oh," I smiled wickedly, "you know I think about it." I couldn't help but still flirt with him; we had a natural chemistry.

"Except now I'd have more energy," he patted his hand on his smaller belly.

"Maybe so, but you know I prefer more to love. I would have had all the energy you needed," I teased him.

"You are a unique woman, Nora, no question," he smiled. "So why don't you stay around to keep reminding me how good I have it?"

"It's time for me to move on to something new," I started to say.

"Damn! Did Winters hire you away? That bastard did say that you were the only one with any talent on his team," he muttered.

"No, he didn't hire me away," I protested. And then I realized what Dan had just said, "He thought I had talent?"

"Yeah, I was starting to wonder if he had a crush on you too," he said nonchalantly, without realizing how much I longed to hear those words. So much so, that I didn't think I was hearing him right.

"Seriously? He barely spoke to me most of the time, and he was pretty negative when he did," I was baffled.

"Grant's an insensitive crank Nora. But deep down, he liked you, I could tell," Dan confirmed. "Then again, what's not to like," he scanned his eyes down my legs with a wanting grin. Once a flirt, always a flirt, I thought to myself.

Thankfully he didn't pay attention to my giddy reaction to the news that Grant may have actually liked me, which was not surprising since Dan was always about Dan. Recognizing that, I turned the conversation back on him. I knew Jason would kill me if I didn't get some inside information about why his hired girls landed flat on their face trying to seduce him. "So what's this about admirers?"

"You started something, Nora. Or maybe it was the diet? I don't know, but there was a gorgeous girl from the newspaper coming onto me... Now I'm being hounded by this exchange student, and exchange students didn't look like lingerie models when I was in college," he shook his head with a hint of self-satisfaction.

"So it wasn't such a bad thing that we put a stop to our mischief," I joked. "You've had plenty more opportunities to enjoy yourself now."

"Hey, I already said I was reformed. Besides, those girls don't hold a candle to you," he buttered me up.

"I thought you said they were gorgeous," I reminded him of his words.

"Yeah, sure," he smiled. "But you were different from any other woman I've known. You were so genuine, the way you looked at me," he paused, "and touched me," he explained, almost in a whisper. I found it profoundly ironic that he thought I was more genuine than other women given what I had been doing in his campaign.

"I never wanted to admit this, but I wasn't feeling really great about myself and my weight," he continued. "For once it was nice to feel that kind of physical attraction. With other women it's always been about my personality, or power, or status. You came on to me like no woman ever has and there was nothing like that feeling."

I was kind of surprised by his admission. He was genuinely a good-looking man who just happened to have some extra weight on his body. I was sure that he had been lusted after by other women on his way up the ladder.

"You're incredibly sexy Dan," I told him candidly, grabbing my bag and standing up to leave. "I'll always think of you that way."

"Good luck, Nora," he stood to shake my hand.

I pulled him close to my body for a final hug, "Thanks," I rubbed his still-plump waist. There was nothing more to say. I turned, and with a glance and a smile back at him, and walked out.


Continued in post #38
 

agouderia

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...... this can't possibly be the end of these lovely protagonists: one unemployed, one vanished from the scene and one turned diet preacher ....?;)
 

Tad

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...... this can't possibly be the end of these lovely protagonists: one unemployed, one vanished from the scene and one turned diet preacher ....?;)
I agree, it can't be the end, I'm just going to go on assuming that there is more to come :D Please? Pretty, pretty, please with sugar on top!
 

NYC_FFA

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I agree, it can't be the end, I'm just going to go on assuming that there is more to come :D Please? Pretty, pretty, please with sugar on top!
Yes, there has to be more. After all this, our girl Nora has GOT to get some hot BHM action! :p
 

ashblonde

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Part 11

The very next day I found myself on a train to Brighton. I had no plans to see Grant, but I was irreparably drawn to him. I walked for hours up and down the streets, hoping I would casually run into him.

It was a ridiculous notion. Brighton was a city with a hundred thousand people. Even at his rotund size, Grant would still be lost in the lunch crowd bodies walking down the street. I grabbed the afternoon train back home to Newport and moped.

The next morning I did the same thing, taking the 9am train to Brighton. I stepped off the train and took a deep breath. How many times was I going to do this until I checked myself into an asylum? I walked down the same streets again, looking in store windows and wondering what I was going to do with my life.

I found myself heading down the block where Grant's new campaign office was located. I walked past the entrance as my heart pounded. I imagined he might look out the window, see me walk by, and come racing out the door after me to tell me his life was miserable without me. But with each step I took, there was no tap on the shoulder, no touch on my arm... just a sea of nameless faces on an unfamiliar street.

I came to the end of the block and there was a small corner deli. I was craving some cold caffeine and peered through the window to see if it was open. But all I saw was a young woman behind me, reflected in the glass window.

I turned around to see who she was, but she wasn't there. I turned back and realized it was actually my reflection in the window. I honestly had almost forgotten what I looked like. Since the day I kissed Grant and he rejected me, I had begun to disassociate with Nora and separate her bleach blonde Barbie image from my true self. And I started to wonder if maybe the whole heartbreaking debacle had somehow translated into this feeling of loss. It was at that moment that I knew I was in love with him. How else could someone take a part of me with him like that?

When I came out of my dazed realization and glanced down the street, I saw a very big guy waddling down the street toward me. I looked away, looked back, blinked, and he was gone. I figured that my muddled mind was continuing to play tricks on me. Just wishful thinking, I thought to myself.

I turned back to the window, caught my reflection again, and then saw a much larger figure behind mine. I was snapped out of my self-reflective stupor by a wonderfully rich voice, "They have good sandwiches."

Looking toward the voice, I saw that I hadn't been dreaming. Grant stood next to me with a charming, smirky grin.

"Oh, uh, hi, Mr. Winters," I stuttered. I hoped he hadn't seen me gazing at myself in the window. He had already suspected I was a narcissistic, self-involved bimbo. And I was in love with him, of all the luck.

"You can call me Grant now," he smiled. He seemed less grumpy than I was used to. And he was even more handsome than when I last saw him that awful Sunday a few weeks before. His hair shone in the autumn afternoon sunlight and face was open and sweeter.

The fog suddenly lifted from my brain. Grant was like an anti-depressant. When he came close to me I felt alive again. "Oh, uh, sorry... Grant," I smiled sheepishly.

"It's just that you always asked me to call you Nora, I thought it was funny that... oh whatever," he tried to explain but my shocked and vacant expression probably further cemented his opinion that I lacked any real substance. "So what are you doing in Brighton?"

I hadn't even thought of what I would say if I ran into him. Several years of living the undercover life should have trained me to think on my feet, but it didn't help me in that disorienting moment. "Um," I stammered, "I was hoping I would see you," letting the truth spill right out of my mouth.

He cocked his head, "Really?"

"Yes," I smiled, without more explanation. It was too late to backpedal but I didn't have to elaborate and incriminate myself as hopelessly in love either.

He continued to look at me with a bewildered look on his face. "We're you going to get lunch?" I asked, pointing into the deli.

He nodded, "Yeah, I was just going to grab something quick," he started to explain.

"I'm starving, you mind if I come in with you?" I asked, hoping I wasn't totally intruding on his busy schedule.

"Not at all," he opened the door and waved me in like a gentleman.

"What's good?" I asked him.

"They're known for their corned beef, but that might not be your thing. I like the club," he paused, looking more at the menu, "and the BLT is good too." It was very cute that he was already well versed on the menu. I glanced down his body, blissfully noting that he obviously hadn't been missing any lunches either.

"I'm more of a turkey girl," I admitted.

He smiled knowingly, "You look like more of a turkey girl."

"And what does a turkey girl look like?" I queried this oddly personal remark.

"Well, you don't look like you eat a lot of fatty foods," he laughed.

I felt shivers down my spine at his use of the term 'fatty.' "I can hold my own," I joked, knowing that it wasn't true.

He glanced down at my body with a friendly grin and walked up to order for both of us. I reached in my purse and he put his hand out to stop me, "My treat."

"Thank you," I smiled up at him. He seemed quite different than the tough guy I was used to seeing at the campaign office.

"It's the least I could do," he said, "I know I wasn't easy to work for."

"I didn't mind," I assured him. It was true. I suppose I would have been miserable if I were actually a young Freedomist struggling to move up in a competitive environment, but I didn't have that pressure. Not to mention that Grant was so physically my type that he could have treated my like complete garbage and I still would have enjoyed watching him lumber around the office.

He apparently recognized that I wasn't easily intimidated, "You never lost your cool, Nora, I'll give you that. You'll do well in this business with your nerves of steel. Davis should give you the Communications Manager job," he was suddenly heaping more praise on me than I could have ever imagined. I felt like falling out of my chair, but I stayed unaffected.

"Actually, I just quit the campaign," I informed him.

"What?" his face turned to shock. "Why would you do that? He's about to win in a landslide...are you crazy?"

"I must be," I shrugged my shoulders with a smile.

"Honestly, Nora, what is this about? Did he make a pass at you?"

"No, no, nothing like that, I'm just ready for a change," I told him a white lie. "But what about you? You did the same thing, leaving before enjoying the victory party."

"This opportunity was too good to pass up. I like getting exposure in other camps," he admitted, referring to the independent status of his new boss.

"Does your guy have a shot?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, "The two parties are slinging mud like crazy in this one. If that continues, the voters could really latch on to him. But I keep hoping for a scandal to make my job easier," he smiled.

"If you like, I could put on a sexy dress and go see what turns up," I joked, getting imprudently close to revealing my true identity.

"I have no doubt you could," he smiled bigger.

"Are you flirting with me, Grant?" I challenged him with penetrating eyes.

"I wouldn't dare," he fired back, soberly. "Anyway, I wouldn't want to ruin a chance at hiring you."

Just then our order came up and he grabbed the tray, leading us to an open table. I followed behind him, admiring his generous width. I could feel my toes tingle watching him move through the other customers, making room for his big body to sit down.

"You think I'm here for a job?" I asked as we sat.

"Sure," he grabbed his sandwich, unwrapped it and took a big bite.

"No, not really," I admitted. Sure, it would have been nice to work with him again, but I couldn't take his professional distance any longer. I wanted to be with him under more primal circumstances.

"I need a good staff writer," he offered without hearing me. "I know, the pay is terrible with an Independent, but it would be good experience for you. You'd make new contacts, and be exposed to a different electorate, different issues," he took another bite of his sandwich.

"I'm thinking of going to the private sector," I stopped him.

"I don't have as many contacts there," he remained all business.

"Grant, I'm not here for your mentoring or professional courtesy," I stopped him. "I just wanted to see you."

He had the blankest look on his face, like he didn't know what to do with this information. He took another large bite, almost finishing his lunch. I had barely eaten any of mine. He looked at my sandwich and then back at his empty plate, "I guess I'm a fast eater," he looked uncomfortable, shifting in his chair.

"No, I'm a really slow eater," I shrugged, admiring his handsome face.

"And you think you can hold your own in the meat eating department?" he teased me, making me giggle.

Then his face changed to a more serious look. He was quiet for a moment, looked around the room, as if to see if anyone was listening, and leaned in closer to me, "Nora, I'm a really busy guy... I need you to be straight with me. What are you looking for here?"

He wasn't getting it that I was into him. He was so used to everything being about politics that it didn't seem to occur to him that I was looking for something more personal. So I just put it out there, "Would you like to have dinner with me?" I blurted. His face went blank again, so I continued, "I mean, like Friday or Saturday, or whenever? I know you're busy..." I over-explained to fill the void left by his non-response.

"Um, I'm not sure what I have going on," he stammered, "I'll have to get back to you."

Then my earnestness turned quickly to frustration. I had been on the wanting edge for too long with him and my words came out faster than my wits. "Really? Grant? You don't know what you're doing this weekend? I know you've got a campaign to run, but the next several night's events should be set by now." He didn't say anything, with only his blank look to leave me twisting in the wind.

In my exasperation, I continued, "You know, if you are so damn brilliant with what the rest of the world wants, why can't you see what I want?"

"Ms. Stewart," he turned cold to me, like that first night I tried to talk to him at the Duke fundraiser, "It was nice to see you again." He stood up, his face reddening and he started to walk out.

I followed behind him, out the door. "Grant, stop, please," I grabbed his very soft upper arm.

He whipped around and looked at me with his steely eyes, "Don't tangle with me Nora, it won't end well," he hissed.

"What?" I exclaimed, "I hang on to your every word. I was on my knees trying to kiss you. Now I follow you here like a puppy dog and you can't give me the dignity to just come out and tell me that you're not attracted to me?"

"Not attracted to you?" he nearly yelled right there on the street. A few people passing by looked at us with curiosity. He lowered his voice, "I wish it were that simple."

"It really is that simple. I am attracted to you. Are you attracted to me? If yes, great, let's have dinner. If no," I sighed, "I'll be disappointed...very disappointed..." I choked up a little and then cleared my throat, "but I'll leave you alone. Simple, isn't it?"

And then with a twist of the knife, he turned away from me and walked down the street, faster than I had ever seen him walk. My heart sunk as I watched him move heavily down the crowded sidewalk. My heart sunk so deeply that I thought I felt it stop.

But as quickly as I had lost all hope, he turned back around and started toward me, even more quickly, exhibiting an uneasy look on his face and a luxurious jiggle throughout his midsection. Before I could feel any more excitement or despair, he was in front of me. "We can do dinner Saturday night. I have to make an appearance at a fundraiser beforehand, if you don't mind."

Sadness turned to elation and my heart swelled up, "Yes, of course, I don't mind at all!"

"The fundraiser isn't formal," he explained, "Independents don't run in the same circles as Congressman Davis' contributors do. Not that I would mind that dress you wore at the Duke, of course" he corrected himself with a sly grin.

"I'll tone it down a little," I giggled. I was happy to know that at least he had paid attention to what I looked like that first night I saw him.

We agreed to meet near the newspaper stand at the Brighton train station at 6pm, and go to the fundraiser from there. I went back home to Newport that afternoon feeling like a new woman.
 

NYC_FFA

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Woot! :wubu: So glad I got to come home to a new installment tonight!
 

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