Colin looked back at Christina, unable to hide his surprise.
“So the congressman is only here a couple of hours a week?”
Christina waved a dismissive hand as she began walking down the hallway back toward the reception area.
“He’s been here a long time, Mr. O’Shea. He has his system, how he likes to do things, and that doesn’t involve spending a lot of time cooped up in this office.”
Colin paused in front of his shared office entrance.
“When are Jolene and Tracy getting here?”
Christina held the reception door open for a moment to allow her time to poke her head back into the hallway.
“They’ll be here by 9:00. You can wait for them in your office until then. You’re going to do just fine, Mr. O’Shea. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go in this place, and can already tell you’re a keeper. Welcome aboard.”
2.
Cocaine is a hell of a drug. Frank Bennington knew well the feeling of waking up to a head and body aching after a night spent snorting line after line of his longtime medicinal friend. He was an addict – had been for most of his adult life.
Yeah, well who gives a shit? I’m Frank Bennington asshole - politico extraordinaire!
Frank forced his sixty-three year old and forty pounds overweight body up from the mattress of his king sized bed, his head blaring out its unhappiness as he did so. He had long ago become accustomed to the morning nausea ritual. The back of his throat burned from the post nasal drip common to the habitual cocaine user. This was accompanied by the crunching upper nasal passage headache that went with his near nightly use of little blue “pecker pills” that allowed Frank to produce and maintain the erection necessary to have a satisfying night of whoring.
Ah…women. Even more than the drugs and alcohol, Frank Bennington loved women above all things. He loved having them around him, drinking, dancing, and sex - lots and lots of sex. He loved the texture of their skin, the warmth of their breath, the sound of their laughter, and their appreciation of how hard he worked to please them in bed.
God was a pretentious, uncaring prick, but Frank forgave Him all of that because He gave the world women! White, black, brown, red, tall, short, thin or fat, Frank Bennington’s appetite for all women had been the defining hallmark of his life. After his third failed marriage twelve years ago, he decided to simply enjoy the moments as they came to him, without the ongoing obligations and resulting complications of a legal contract.
Frank stumbled against one of the two dressers in the bedroom of his small Lorin Estates apartment as he walked sans clothing toward the hallway bathroom, causing him to curse under his breath. He glanced back to the bed where the naked form of Silia was stretched out, her dark skin contrasting against the white sheets. In recent months she had become Frank’s regular. Her rates were reasonable, and she appreciated that he allowed her to sleep over afterwards. She was twenty-seven years old, having come to America from her home country of Brazil four years ago. Other than that, Frank knew little about her, and didn’t care to know. Too much of that kind of knowledge brought about emotional ties, and he’d had enough of those already. He just wanted somebody to spend a little time with, and Silia happily kept to that arrangement.
Am I supposed to meet someone today? Oh – the new guy! The kid from Ohio.
It was almost 10:00 a.m. He’d told the kid to show up by 8:00. Not wanting to appear completely dysfunctional to the newest member of Congressman Latner’s team on the newbie’s first day, Frank called down to the apartment lobby.
“Jose, have my car out front in thirty minutes. Thank you.”
That left no time for a shower, or even a shave. Frank brushed his teeth, washed his face, and combed his thinning hair back from his forehead. A fresh application of deodorant and cologne, followed by putting on one of the ten freshly starched white dress shirts delivered to him every Monday morning from the Asian, family-owned Van’s Dry Cleaning just two blocks from the apartment complex, and his favorite pair of navy blue dress slacks, left Frank almost ready to take on another work day.
In the small single closet of his apartment he kept twenty ties and matching sets of suspenders arranged by color. Yesterday he had worn a dark blue tie and suspenders, so today should be something opposite that. Frank grabbed one of his two pink sets. He had long ago discovered that a man could wear the same clothing one day after the next if all he made certain to do was simply change out his tie and suspenders each time.
Where’s my damn shoes?
Two years ago during his last check-up, Frank’s doctor explained to him that the ongoing pain in his feet was due to pre-diabetic neuropathy. It was suggested at that time Frank find a pair of shoes that offered ample arch support to lessen the pain. The same doctor also urged him to lose weight, lessen his drinking, and stop using drugs altogether.
Frank ignored every suggestion but the shoes.
Silia still lay sleeping in the bed, the sound of her soft snoring making Frank smile. Beyond the bed, nightstands, and two thrift store dressers, the room was devoid of furnishings. Silia’s clothing lay scattered on the floor, but the only pair of shoes Frank now owned remained hidden.
His headache was getting worse.
Might have left my shoes in the kitchen, along with the coke.
Frank walked down the short hallway to the small kitchen area. His wallet, keys, and Rolex lay on the countertop, as well as a near empty bottle of Wild Turkey, an open, half full bottle of Viagra, and a small plastic bag of cocaine, delivered to him inside one of the Capitol Building bathrooms last week by his longtime supplier Jaxx. Jaxx was the primary hook-up for half the drug users in Congress, which made him a very rich man.
His white running shoes sat on the off white tile of the kitchen floor directly in front of the stainless steel refrigerator. Frank Bennington hadn’t gone running since he was a kid, but the shoes made his feet feel better, so he wore them everywhere he went.
“Frank, you leaving already? You wanna do it again before you go?”
God I love the sound of that voice!
Frank glanced down at his watch, and then wondered if enough of the Viagra he had taken in the early morning hours the night before remained in his system.
“C’mon back to bed, Frank…I know you want to.”
His headache had lessened some as Frank made his way back to the bedroom where Silia lay above the covers of the bed, her arms and legs, and all her other wonderfully dark toned feminine parts beckoning him to join her.
“I’m running late, Silia. Christina is gonna be pissed.”
Silia’s plump lips formed a pout as she rose up onto her knees and shook her head, causing the long black strands of her hair to fall over her face and full breasts.
“Won’t take long - I promise.”
Silia stuck a finger into her mouth and looked back at Frank, her dark eyes dancing with seductive mischief.
Frank stood before Silia as she quickly worked the front of his dress slacks loose. He glanced at his watch once again and then placed an appreciative hand behind the Brazilian woman’s head as she expertly began to coax his lower half back to life.
“I hate to have to rush you, but you have just five minutes to get this done.”
Silia grinned back up at Frank before returning to her work.
She didn’t need five minutes…
3.
Congressman Joseph Latner had given up caring for the last decade. Twenty five years of winning elections to the same congressional seat, returning to the same D.C. office, seeing the same faces, sitting in the same restaurants, listening to the same assholes drone on and on about the next “big thing” in politics, offering the media the same recycled sound bites he had been using since Clinton was president, would do that to a man.
That is why he could barely contain his anticipation of this morning’s meeting at the D.C. Four Seasons. Stephen Sparks was to be there – a man Congressman Latner knew was among the senior advise
rs to Florida Governor Eduardo Mendez, quite possibly the next President of the United States. Governor Mendez would need Ohio though, and Joe Latner knew that made him a valuable commodity to the future Mendez presidential campaign. So popular in fact, it might result in him being offered the other half of the ticket.
Vice President Latner, and then President Latner…
He stopped outside of room 270, knocking briefly. He was told to keep the meeting very hush-hush. No other staff, no announcement, just a quick drop in to discuss “an opportunity”. That is how Sparks had described it to the congressman over the phone last week – “an opportunity”.
The door swung open, and there stood the short, bald-headed Stephen Sparks. Sparks had been in the political business for even longer than Congressman Latner. He was nearly seventy years old, though having hitched himself to the Mendez administration and two subsequent and quite successful campaigns, it appeared Stephen Sparks had no plans for stopping any time soon.
He was dressed in a comical pair of light blue Bermuda shorts, a Miami Dolphins sweatshirt, and black socks pulled up nearly to his knees. It was the kind of appearance the always meticulously dressed and manicured Congressman Joseph Latner found inconceivable. On this day the congressman wore his dark blue, custom tailored two-button with red tie. His hair and nails were trimmed once a week, he had a facial once a month, and every morning started with at least thirty minutes on the tread mill, followed by thirty more minutes of weights.
In politics, looking good had always been an essential component to Congressman Joseph Latner’s success. Though he was nearly sixty, he still enjoyed a full head of brown hair that was just starting to grey on the sides, his weight was the same as it had been thirty years ago, and according to his personal physician, he had the heart and lung capacity of a man half his age.
“Congressman, so nice to see you! Please, come in!”
Sparks had a slightly too high voice that annoyed the congressman the moment he heard it.
“Good morning, Mr. Sparks. Hope you are finding your stay in D.C. a good one.”
Stephen Sparks smiled widely, his prune like face breaking out into a thousand wrinkles, especially around his light blue, watery eyes.
“Yes it has been Congressman. I particular liked driving past the White House, which, not surprisingly, is the primary reason for our meeting this morning.”
Congressman Latner’s heart quickened just a bit when he heard the White House mentioned.
I was right! They want me to be Vice President!
Sitting across from Sparks, the congressman took a sip of recently poured, freshly squeezed orange juice.
“As you likely know, Congressman Latner, Governor Mendez is giving serious consideration to bringing his talents to the national stage – the biggest national stage. We have already been wooed by some significant donors, we have very good relations within the DNC, and well, the governor feels this might be the right time to go for it.”
“Governor Mendez is a talented politician, and would make a formidable presidential candidate, Mr. Sparks.”
Stephen Sparks’ eyebrows raised slightly as he sat down in a chair facing the congressman.
“I see you get to the point. Yes, the governor is giving consideration for a presidential run. Now having said that, I expect you to keep this information between us for now. It doesn’t leave this room. Do you understand?”
Congressman Latner nodded while taking another sip of orange juice.
“Well, we’ve run some swing state numbers, and Ohio is coming up as something of an unknown for us. Now having been representing your district there for well over twenty years, I suspect you could make some inroads for the upcoming campaign? Perhaps shore up some needed support with the labor unions? As you likely already know, Florida is a right to work state, and the governor hasn’t really done much in the way of having to work with Big Labor. Ohio on the other hand, is very much run by Big Labor. That’s where we were hoping you could help us out. The ground game in Ohio will be critical for us, both in the primary, and the general election.”
The congressman sat silently for several seconds looking back at the wizened little face of Stephen Sparks, a hint of concern rising up within him.
Does this little pile of Florida shit intend to offer me the V.P. spot or not?
“I can certainly deliver Ohio for the governor, Mr. Sparks, if I’m given second billing.”
The political adviser’s eyebrows rose once again as his thin and dry lipped mouth formed a circle, giving him the appearance of a surprised yard gnome.
“Oh! You’re suggesting we make you Vice President? Am I understanding you correctly, Congressman?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting Mr. Sparks. I have no interest in simply helping out the top of the ticket for the good of the party. If you want Ohio, I want the number two spot. If you don’t give me the V.P. position, then I may be inclined to tell my friends in the Ohio labor unions to look at someone else besides your Governor Mendez. Are you understanding ME, Mr. Sparks?”
Stephen Sparks shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Congressman Latner.
“I didn’t expect this meeting to turn into a shakedown, Congressman. We haven’t even really considered who our choice for a running mate might be at this point. The governor hasn’t actually decided to run himself!”
“Bullshit.”
Stephen Sparks’ face returned to its surprised yard gnome expression.
“Excuse me?”
“I said bullshit, Mr. Sparks. You’ve been at this long enough down there in Florida, and I know you want a shot at the big show – the White House. So don’t sit there telling me you haven’t given serious consideration over who might make a good choice to be the governor’s running mate. And don’t pretend the governor isn’t already all in on this. It’s an open election, no incumbent to run against, so like you already said, he feels like this might be the right time to go for it. I would agree, especially if he picks someone who fills out the ticket. I do that. I have a quarter century of contacts in D.C. that your governor doesn’t. I’m on a first name basis with every high ranking member of the DNC, your governor isn’t. I have contacts in the national media that go back almost three decades when your governor was still popping pimples in high school. I’m your pick. I’m the only pick that practically guarantees the White House for you and the governor.”
The Florida political adviser shook his head as he grinned back at the congressman.
“Well, you are certainly in no short supply of confidence, Congressman Latner!”
“Winning twelve consecutive elections with an average margin of nine points isn’t conducive to humility Mr. Sparks. I think I’ve made my point. You want my help, I’m happy to provide it. Put me on the ticket.”
The congressman took one last drink of orange juice and then rose from his chair and moved quickly toward the room’s exit without saying another word, leaving Stephen Sparks to follow his departure with a mixture of shock and admiration.
That man would make a hell of a president.
4.
Her phone rang. It was the congressman.
“Meet me at the apartment - thirty minutes.”
Kat could sense the hungry urgency in the congressman’s voice. He needed it. For three months they had engaged in almost daily sexual encounters of nearly every kind - in his bed, his limousine, and in a bathroom stall of the five-star Alexi restaurant in downtown D.C. Recently they had even managed to frantically work themselves toward a sweaty, thrusting climax in a dark hallway just yards away from the Capitol rotunda.
Kat recalled others telling her last year, shortly after she arrived in Washington D.C. that certain politicians were known for their seemingly unquenchable sexual appetites. They were men and women of considerable power and influence, and the sex they engaged often mirrored that power and influence.
Not yet twenty, the Russian born immigrant first arrived in Ne
w York, and then at the suggestion of another newly arrived resident of that same city, moved to the nation’s capital where she was taken in by one of the more discreet and successful madam’s in Washington D.C. Discretion was an essential component for those who must protect public image at all cost, while also being allowed to enjoy ongoing debauchery and perversion that remained readily available.
“I will try to be there soon. I’m a few miles away.”
The congressman disregarded excuses. She knew that already, and fully expected the response he gave her.
“Just be there.”
Kat wasn’t bothered by the forty year difference between herself and the congressman. His body remained lean, well muscled, and more than capable of multiple hour sessions where he explored every nook and cranny of her much younger, but equally pleasing, figure. He kept his emotions hidden – except his lust. That he shared with her openly and often, leaving her pleasantly sore many times after.
Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series... Page 2