Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  The sound of applause and cheering invigorates me. This is my dream. My life. I grew up idolizing my father and his ideals. I want to be a voice for the middle class and an advocate for education reform. I’m doing it at the state level now, but I’m ready to move up to Congress and have a greater impact.

  I step away from the stage and am greeted by people with their hands out, all talking at the same time. I shake hands, pose for photos, and talk to as many people as I can.

  Lexi approaches and takes my arm. She’s giving me the look. It means something’s up.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” she says to the group of waiting people. “She has an interview at a news station in fifteen minutes. I have to take her.”

  One of my deputy campaign managers passes out business cards to everyone who wants one. Lexi steers me toward the waiting campaign bus.

  “What’s up?” I ask her as soon as we step on and the driver closes the doors.

  “I got a call from a TV station manager in Springfield. He wants to know if you’re interested in doing a Q&A thing with Titan and Sonny Solomon Wednesday evening.”

  “Wednesday?” I arch my brows. “Yikes. That’s tomorrow. Not much prep time.”

  “I know. I think he wants to capitalize on Titan’s announcement. I can tell him no.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m in. I’d like to size Jude Titan up in person.”

  “I’ll let the manager know.”

  The bus starts up, and we head toward the news station. Claire, another of my staffers, kneels in front of me and powders my nose.

  “I’m sweating like a whore in church,” I say to her. “That gym wasn’t air-conditioned.”

  “We’ll get you all fixed up,” Claire says. “Want me to pull up your hair to help cool you off?”

  “That would be great,” I say, reaching over to open the fridge from my seat. “You want a water?”

  “Sure.”

  I take two bottles out and hand her one. As I open mine and take a drink, I’m thinking about meeting Jude tomorrow. I’m eager to find out if his presence is as commanding as it seemed on TV today. I’m also eager for him to see that I can bust balls with the best of them.

  Jude Titan can bring it on.

  I’m ready.

  Chapter 3

  The enemy.

  It’s a term I’ve become all too familiar with in my thirty years walking this earth. After serving in the Marines, I never thought I’d face another one, but here I am—standing backstage, waiting to do a Q&A with my opponents for the evening news…my enemies.

  Carl spent half the morning talking my ear off about how I can’t be kind to Reagan Preston or Sonny Solomon. He said if I show an ounce of weakness, they’ll attack like a pack of wild dogs.

  “Hello.” Reagan nods, giving me a smile so large that I wonder if it’s sincere.

  “Representative Preston,” I reply, holding out my hands to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” It’s a complete lie, but I’m a gentleman. Any candidate but Reagan would only get a curt nod.

  She slides her hand in mine, averting her eyes. “You too,” she says and chews on the corner of her bottom lip. My eyes are drawn to her mouth. The redness of the skin, the fullness, and the tiny ridge that runs down the center are mesmerizing.

  When my thumb strokes the back of her hand, she pulls back. “Good luck today, Mr. Titan.”

  “It’s Jude,” I correct her and smirk.

  “Jude,” she whispers and puckers her lips, making the crease more severe.

  “Reagan,” a woman says from beside her, pulling on her arm. “Let’s get you touched up before you go on the air.”

  “Lexi, I’m fine.” Reagan brushes her off and spins on her heels. “I was just talking to Mr. Titan.”

  The woman’s eyes grow wide before darting to me. They creep down my body as I tuck my hands in my pockets, waiting for her eyes to return to mine. “Jude Titan, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Representative Preston’s campaign manager, Alexis.” The way she says her name is seductive and comes out as almost a hiss. “I’m sure we’ll see more of you than I’d like over the next few months, Mr. Titan.”

  I smile and tip my head. “I look forward to it.”

  “Jude,” Carl says in a nasal, almost judgmental tone. I don’t even need to hear what he has to say to know he doesn’t like me talking to Reagan one bit. This isn’t his campaign. Even though I hired him, I wouldn’t run as anything else but myself.

  “Excuse me,” I tell Reagan and Alexis. “I need to prep before it’s time.”

  “Us too,” Alexis says quickly and pulls Reagan in the opposite direction.

  She gives me a quick wave. “See you out there.” Reagan’s cheeks turn the brightest shade of pink when I give her a quick wink.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  I glance toward Carl and shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The flirting,” he replies and shakes his head before turning around. “I’ve taught you nothing.”

  Following him, I rub my hands together as we head to the staging area. “You may know politics, but I know women.”

  When he stops, I almost bump into his back because I’m taking in the frantic backstage scene the public never gets to see. “They’re two different beasts, Jude. You need to think with the right head.”

  “I am,” I say just as my eyes land on her. “I promise.” In that moment, I don’t feel the conviction of my words. Reagan Preston isn’t what I had been expecting. She always appeared cute on TV, though lacking something, but in person…she is stunning. The tiny details the camera doesn’t pick up set her apart from every other female on the planet.

  Carl punches my arm, drawing my eyes away from Reagan. “You’re staring at her.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter and clear my throat. “Did anyone notice?”

  He clenches his jaw and speaks without moving his teeth or lips, and it’s unnerving. “They’re going to if you don’t stop acting like a pubescent teenager who just saw his first pair of tits.”

  Carl, for all his proper etiquette, can turn on a dime. He’s been in politics for over fifteen years, but before that, he spent time in the Marines just like me. That’s why I chose him as my campaign manager. No one else could understand me unless they’d lived the life I had. When necessary, Carl knows just what to say to make me understand, but it typically makes me laugh.

  “Let’s talk about the Q&A,” I say to change the subject. It’s more for me than him. I need to get Reagan out of my head, and now that he mentioned tits, those need to be wiped from my mind also. “What can I expect?”

  Carl’s eyes light up as he begins to explain everything that’s about to happen. He goes over my key talking points, reminding me to mention that I’m not a politician and I served in the military.

  “I got it,” I tell him before rolling my head around my shoulders to release the tension his words have put there.

  Reagan grew up in the spotlight because of her father. TV cameras and interviews are nothing new to her, and this puts me at a slight disadvantage. The public will hopefully forgive me for a short time for being a newbie, before the Preston camp can use my inexperience to their advantage.

  “Why don’t you roll down your sleeves? Tattoos turn off some voters.” His nose wrinkles as his eyes wander down to my forearms.

  “They’re part of me, Carl. I’m a soldier, and most of us have some type of ink. I can’t hide who I am. If the voters like me, they will because they know exactly what type of man I am. The sleeves are staying up.”

  “Fine,” he says through a tightly clenched jaw.

  “It’s time,” a woman yells from the news set and doesn’t give Carl more time to complain. “Places, everyone.” She claps wildly and beckons us to move.

  “Go get ’em, tiger,” he says with a curt nod, and I roll my eyes at the little nickname.

  “Piece of cake,” I say and head toward the set. I swall
ow down the lump that starts to form before the fear can get to me. I’ve got this. I’ve been through far scarier situations. Having the enemy hiding with their gunsight trained at your head is more frightening than staring into the eyes of Reagan Preston.

  For a moment, my mind wanders and I brush shoulders with someone. “Sorry,” I mumble and glance down at Reagan.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers, looking up at me with soft blue eyes. She’s ridiculously calm and doesn’t even have a hair out of place. Her stare dips to my exposed arms. “Nice ink, by the way.”

  My hand unconsciously touches the ink on my left arm. “Thanks. Are you ready for this?” I ask for some reason. I don’t care if she’s ready. I need to remind myself that we’re not friends.

  We’ll never be friends.

  She’s the enemy.

  She may not have a rifle pointed at my head, but her beautiful, angelic face is gunning for me in another way. There’s nothing she’d like more than to see me fail. My failure is her victory.

  “I’m always ready, Jude.” She smirks and walks toward her seat, leaving me in her wake. My stomach flops like a lovesick puppy, and I know one thing——I’m completely fucked.

  I give myself a silent pep talk, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Not only am I trying to tell myself that I will kill this Q&A, but I’m praying I don’t have a hard-on from Reagan. This could be bad, very bad. I open my eyes, glance down and exhale when I realize that my blessed cock hasn’t chosen the most inopportune time to rise to the occasion.

  “Mr. Titan,” the news director says, grabbing my attention. “You can take a seat next to Representative Preston.”

  I take my seat and don’t dare glance in her direction. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. No. Fuck. God, the way her calves look when she sits with her legs crossed. I can almost feel them squeeze my head like a vise when I’m licking her.

  “Mr. Titan,” the news reporter asks, but I don’t hear her because I’m too busy fantasizing about Reagan. “Mr. Titan.” Her voice is louder this time and breaks my trance just as I was about to taste her.

  “Sorry, Margret. It’s great to be here.” I can hear the strangled quality in my voice and I pray it isn’t as noticeable to the television audience.

  “Let’s begin,” Margret says into the camera.

  I take the opportunity to glance at Reagan. She’s staring at my forearms and slowly running her tongue across her bottom lip—the bright pink color calling to me. When our eyes meet, she blushes and I feel my heart flutter.

  Maybe I’m not the only one having impure thoughts. This can’t go on. We can’t be attracted to each other. Politics is one of the filthiest businesses. There is no remorse, no room for sensitivity. It is brutal and unrelenting. I have to remember that even if I want to sink into her until the end of time—she’s off-limits.

  But what’s that phrase…keep your friends close, but your enemies closer? The Godfather may be right.

  Chapter 4

  I smile at the production assistant attaching a microphone to my collar. He’s sneaking a peek at my boobs, but I’m too distracted to care.

  Jude Titan is under my skin, and I just met him less than five minutes ago. I knew he was attractive, but I didn’t realize he’d be so…magnetic. My libido was in overdrive as I spoke to him, torn between staring at his inked, muscled forearms and his intense, dark brown eyes.

  I close my eyes for a couple seconds to ground myself.

  Focus, Reagan. Find your focus.

  It’s critical that I be on point during this first on-camera encounter with Jude. I can’t stumble over my words because I’m distracted by his looks.

  It’s not just his looks, though. There’s something else. He’s not at all intimidated. He’s got swagger in spades, and it’s really sexy.

  We’re sitting in club chairs, my Republican opponents on either side of me. The station’s anchor is sitting on a stool off to the side. He looks up from his notecards at us.

  “Thirty seconds, guys,” he says. “You ready?”

  “Ready,” Jude says.

  I just give a confident nod, my mind tied up with how sexy Jude’s voice is. I sneak a glance at him and notice him checking out my legs. I meet his eyes for a brief second to let him know I saw, and he winks.

  Winks.

  Cocky bastard. My heart is thundering in my chest as the station’s producer counts down the final fifteen seconds to on-air.

  My father’s advice rings in my ears… Stick to the issues, don’t let it get personal. Never let yourself turn defensive. Keep him on the run—always stay a step ahead.

  The news anchor gives us all a polished smile as he speaks into the camera. He reads everyone’s bio, and only Sonny Solomon’s is lacking. Jude Titan’s military credentials are impressive, I reluctantly admit to myself.

  “I’m just like you,” Jude says into the camera when it’s his turn to introduce himself. “I’m a regular guy who’s fed up with politicians only looking out for themselves. Our country is at a crossroads, and I want to be part of moving us in the right direction. I’m a proven leader, and even though I’m just getting into the race, I promise you I won’t be outworked. I’ll tour our great state by bus to meet people and find out what you’re looking for in a senator, rather than telling you what you should want.”

  Well, shit. That was a strong open. Game face in place, I introduce myself when it’s time.

  “I’m Reagan Preston, and I serve as a State Representative for the 92nd District. I cut my teeth in the House, working hard on issues that matter to our state. Issues like educational reform and tightening gun laws while preserving the rights of gun owners. I grew up watching my father work tirelessly as a senator for our state. That alone certainly doesn’t qualify me for the job, but I hope you know that service is in my blood. Making our state and our world a better place is all I’ve ever wanted to do. Please reach out to me or my staff and let us know what you’re looking for in your next senator.”

  Sonny Solomon’s intro is…well, a little bit sad. He talks about his experience as a prison guard and says he’ll be “on guard for the state of Illinois” when elected. He laughs heartily at his joke, but no one else does.

  “All right,” the news anchor says, looking at Jude. “Mr. Titan, can you tell us what made you decide to throw your hat in the ring, so to speak?”

  “Sure. I feel strongly about defense spending, our foreign policy regarding wars, and taking care of our veterans. But I also felt like I had to run when I saw Senator Preston speaking on TV one day, basically saying he looks forward to handing his seat off to his daughter. He doesn’t get to decide who will be our next senator—the people do.”

  And here comes my inner attack dog.

  “I resent your treating a Senate seat like a belt notch,” I say crisply. “I’ve dedicated my life to public service.”

  Jude gives me an amused smile. “What, in the couple years since you finished law school? How much debt are you in from that, Representative Preston?”

  I narrow my eyes at him just slightly. “I’m grateful my parents were able to fund my education. Trust me, I don’t take it for granted. The cost of education in our country is out of control. Educational reform is at the top of my priority list.”

  “Mine too,” he says, his dark gaze locked on to mine. “For my buddies who are six feet under because they served our country to help pay for their educations.”

  Damn it. I’m getting crucified by this guy.

  “I’m deeply grateful for their service—and for yours,” I say sincerely.

  “Then don’t call this run a belt notch, Representative Preston. I’m more of a public servant than you ever will be, and I resent your family treating a Senate seat like it’s supposed to be passed down from one generation to the next like a fancy house in the Hamptons.”

  The news anchor tries to interrupt. “Let me just—”

  “Excuse me,” I say, my eyes still locked on Jude. “My father is a veteran
and a former coal miner. We are a blue-collar family, and we’re proud that other blue-collar families let us be their voice at the state and federal level. I take nothing for granted.”

  “Then run on your own merits instead of your father’s.”

  “All right,” the anchor says loudly. He laughs nervously. “I can see we’re in for a spirited race. I’m going to give Mr. Solomon a chance to get in here.”

  My blood is pumping with the fury I feel for Jude Titan. Our eyes lock and we glare at each other, both refusing to look away. A vein stands out in his neck.

  So he’s angry, too. I need to learn how to capitalize on his weaknesses, and hopefully, I’ve discovered one.

  “Let’s talk about your views on federal programs,” the anchor says, looking back and forth between Jude and me. “What you’d like to keep, what you’d like to cut.”

  I hold my tongue, letting Jude go first. He bites, talking about defense spending and veterans affairs. Prodded for more, he tells the anchor he’s undecided.

  When it’s my turn, I talk about educational reform, homeland security, the economic recovery, and my unwavering support for veterans affairs. I own this question, though I’m sure it’s too late. Jude got in some solid punches early on, and those will be the sound bites in tomorrow’s news cycle.

  I leave my game face on for the rest of the interview, even managing to shake Jude’s hand and smile at him when it’s over. I can almost feel the burn of his gaze on me as I leave the set.

  Lexi’s waiting for me backstage. She wraps an arm around my shoulders.

  “You were great,” she says.

  We’re still in public, so she has to say that. But I know she knows I got crushed.

  There’s a guy standing near us, and he gives Jude a satisfied smile.

  “Nicely done,” he says.

  “And you thought I’d blow it, Carl,” Jude says.

  He looks at me with those searing eyes, so dark they’re nearly black, and my stomach flips with excitement.