“So, what do you think about doing a country girl photo set?”
“What are you thinking?”
“It’s trailer park white trash, that’s for sure, but I’ll make it sexy as hell. What’s really cool about it is that it’ll make Congressman Boyd look even worse. You being some kind of hick getting naked in the woods, the kind of woman he likes to sleep around with. And it will have a sort of country and western I-love-God-and-Country feel, so there’s some irony there. It’ll be hot and spicy, but also an inside joke.”
“Tell me more.”
Marc explained what he was planning on using as props. There was a ton of stuff in the cabin to use: guns, animal traps, survival gear, backpacks, fishing gear, and tools like the ax. He laughed after he told her he thought there might even be a picnic basket somewhere, complete with a red and white checkered table cloth.
It was an old cliche, but one they’d exploit by contrasting all the traditional country stuff with a modern woman, naked and sexy as sin. “It’ll be Daisy Duke meets the Instagram age,” Marc said.
Marc asked Drew to help him pick out props and carry them outside. “Be careful with those traps. They are the real thing. That bear trap, once it’s set, can break bones.”
Drew picked up the trap. It was heavier than she expected. The trap was made of a heavy metal, iron she assumed, and it was a bit rusty. She hoped it didn’t have any blood, fur, or something gross stuck to it, but it looked clean.
“Your dad actually use these?”
“No, my grandfather did. My mom’s dad. This was his place once upon a time. He trapped up here. That era is long gone, but my dad always liked to keep this stuff around. Some of these traps used to hang on the wall, but my mom complained it was horrible to hang torture devices up as decorations. My dad said ‘Christians put up crosses,’ and my mom said ‘Well, if a bear had died for your sins that would be different,’ and I remember my dad laughed and said he understood. Later that day, he and I put them into storage.”
Marc found a branch that hadn’t been chopped up for firewood. He told Drew to step back and showed her how the trap was set with a clamp. “Easy enough that a girl can do it.” She scowled and threw a pine cone at his head.
He explained how the trap would normally be chained to a tree and when a bear stepped into it, whack! He set the trap off with the branch and Drew jumped. “Like I said, this can break human bones like twigs.”
Marc found more things for props: fishing gear, a tackle box, fly rods, more animal traps, the shotgun Drew had learned to use, and an old revolver that was in a leather holster. “This one’s an antique worth a few bucks, my grandfather’s Colt.” He took it out and showed it to her.
Drew remembered to check to make sure that it wasn’t loaded, and then held it up and aimed at a tree. “It’s heavy.”
“Yes, it’s a nice weapon. I don’t like to fire it because cleaning it to the standard my dad expects is a bitch. He’s not so bitchy about the Sig. But this one? Boy, if you don’t get it perfect, he’s a real bear about it. We can use it in the photo set if we want to. I’ll have to clean it now anyway. We’ve got oil from our hands all over it.”
“I’d better go fix my hair and get some makeup on.”
“Sure thing, but don’t be too anal about it. We’ll be having a pro Photoshop and do touch-ups. It’s standard on these things. Just cover the basics.”
She walked back to the cabin with her chin up and her mouth frozen into a smile.
Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.
~ Douglas Adams
Critics say that political power is like a drug: addictive, destructive, and never enough. It might be true for a few, but most of these men really believe in public service and the American dream. Boyd serves his country with conviction and sacrifice. He could triple his income if he came into the private sector. He’s a true American hero. I support him proudly.
~ Peter Stirling
Peter Stirling stood at the podium and looked at the crowd of supporters. He adjusted his tie and took a sip of water. “Before I introduce Congressman Boyd I’d like to take a moment to say a few words.”
The banquet room was still and quiet. Most of the members of the Conservative Business Partnership Alliance had a deep respect for Peter Stirling, and more than a few of them feared him as well. Stirling liked being respected, but he relished being feared. He looked out over the crowd of businessmen and women in the room. Many of them had been a part of this organization well before his time. The average age hovered in the sixties, but there were a few old timers present also. Only a few of them had been as important to the success of the Alliance as he had been. Now, in his fifth year as president, he looked out at the group with a sense of personal pride.
He’d done a lot of work to ensure that when decisions were made in Washington that affected business here in Bristol, that Congressman Boyd was going to work hard to ensure that their collective interests were protected.
“Congressman Boyd,” Peter began his speech, “was instrumental in helping to defeat parts of the Harrington Legislation last year before the bill went up to the Senate. That bill as written would have had serious negative impacts on business and industrial interests here in Bristol. Many of you here today would have lost significant value in your companies. I know you’ve all worked very hard to maintain growth and value in your businesses in what can be an ugly anti-business climate. I know that you’ve been grateful. I know many of you have shown that gratitude in the most significant way it can be shown, that being in the form of a check.”
The audience laughed a little, some not sure if Stirling was actually making a joke or not. He wasn’t. Money was the weapon that determined the outcome of political battles. This wasn’t a secret to anyone, even those few that tried to pretend it wasn’t true.
“In the business of politics,” Stirling went on to say, “a check, the parting of hard-earned money, is often the only way we can lend a meaningful hand to a political cause. I know many of you write letters and call Congressman Boyd as well as your Senators. I know you contact the White House. I know that you also write editorials to the Bristol Daily News. All these things are good. Keep up the fight because our businesses depend upon the support of government for keeping the playing field fair and level against radical interests. But never forget that your financial support is the structural beam that holds up the office of your chosen candidate. Never forget that the other side knows this truth as well.”
Stirling went on for another ten minutes, talking about future events and political actions they’d be facing. He described the Alliance’s internal issues for the upcoming calendar year.
“Before some of you fall asleep, I’d like to introduce a man that needs no introduction to this group, but I’m going to do it anyway.” When the brief laughter stopped, Peter Stirling introduced Congressman Boyd.
“Congressman Boyd is a man of extreme integrity and character. He gets things done. He honors his word. Unlike so many in Washington that will pretend to be your friend when it’s time to ask for votes and financial support, Lance Boyd is a true friend. He is a friend to business because he knows that is the backbone of the American way of life. He is a friend to our military because he knows what they are up against. Our military is what keeps the wolves at bay. They protect us, the American people, sometimes by paying the ultimate sacrifice. Congressman Boyd has spent many years fighting for men and women in uniform, both for those stationed overseas and those serving here on American soil. And he remembers and honors those that have served in the past.”
More applause. Stirling stopped for a moment and drank a sip of water.
“I know many of you here are veterans. From all branches of service. I know all of you now work in a different but just as important fashion, that of pro
viding jobs and growing our economy. Fighting for ordinary Americans. You, my friends, are among one of the many reasons this country is so great. Congressman Boyd has been a tireless supporter of business and the American way of life. He works tirelessly for you and your families.
“I’d like you to put your hands together for a man that is not just intelligent, not just a great Congressman, but a man that is a great friend. He’s truly a dying breed of man in this day and age. He’s a man that exemplifies truth, decency, and the best of the American tradition. Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce Congressman Lance Boyd, my friend.” Peter Stirling sat down as the crowd stood and applauded.
Congressman Boyd looked out over the crowd. His face broke into a huge grin. He began his speech.
“Today, ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans, businessmen and women, I’d like to talk to you about integrity…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
White Trash Normal has invaded every nook and cranny of life...
~ Charlotte Hays
Peter used to say, “Those girls come from abusive and broken homes.” He doesn’t say that anymore.
~ Monica Stirling
Drew Stirling was primping in the bathroom when Marc knocked on the door.
“Hey! You almost ready in there?”
“Don’t you dare open that door. I’m just finishing up. Fuck. Last thing I need is you walking in here while I’m shaving my —”
“Sorry. I wasn’t going to barge in. I wanted to check your makeup. We have really good lighting outside right now.”
Drew put down the razor and looked at herself in the mirror. A minor amount of razor burn, nothing a little makeup couldn’t fix. She turned and looked at her ass in the mirror. No visible tan lines, but small bruises from her night with Boyd. She covered them with a little foundation.
Drew thought it was strange that she felt like she was preparing for a date. She checked her body for any unwanted hair and then brushed her teeth. She didn’t put on any deodorant. She knew that it might show up in the pictures. One less thing for someone to worry about Photoshopping.
It was chilly outside so she slipped on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She put on a pair of slippers and walked outside. “I’m ready, Marc.”
Marc had already moved the props to the other side of the house. There was an open grassy area with a forested backdrop. He set out the picnic basket and a bottle of wine and wine glasses. He connected a large black battery case to a portable lighting system and mounted a camera on a tripod.
Drew noticed how his personality had changed. He wasn’t the nice, friendly, joking Marc anymore. He was the in-charge director, the it’s-all-business Marc. She put her mindset into business mode too.
“You bring clothes you can start with? Say a top you can tie loosely and short shorts?”
“I think so. Let me see.” Drew rummaged through her duffle bag of extra clothes. She found an outfit, slipped off her sweat clothes, and put on shorts and a long-sleeved top that buttoned up the front.
Marc directed her to the blanket he had spread out. He helped her arrange the props. “Okay, act sexy.” He looked at her for a moment, letting his all-business demeanor fade. “You still okay with this?”
Drew nodded and began posing. Marc got behind the camera and shot pictures. After a few poses with her fully dressed, he told her to start undressing. “Go slowly, and just do what comes naturally. Stay comfortable.
“I believe if you feel uncomfortable, it’ll show in the pictures. Even subtle unease will show up. We’ll end up with less than our best.”
Drew nodded and unbuttoned her top. “I’m fine. Trust you. Don’t worry.”
He’d already seen her breasts so she just naturally started posing. He directed her a little, but she was experienced enough to get by with little guidance. The next round of pictures went by in no time. When Drew decided she was ready, she took off the top and flung it away.
“I got that flying up against the tree. Nice idea. That’s art right there, baby. Keep it up.”
Drew laughed. “Nerd.”
After a few more shots, she went to her knees but kept her body erect. She faced Marc and unbuttoned the fly on her shorts and opened them into a V-shape. She crossed her arms and covered her breasts. She turned, left, right, then moved back to her hands and knees. She slipped off the shorts.
Marc gave few directions now: a little to the left, a little to the right, okay, there, move a little, stop, turn. He mostly allowed Drew to do her thing.
She knew the standard poses: the teasing shots, the hands over her crotch shots, the lying on your back in the grass shots, the bending over shots. She went through all the standard poses as if she’d been a porn star for years.
She moved onto her back and crossed her legs. Time for the money shots. She was shaven and pure out here in the woods being captured on camera for the world to see. She looked up at the trees and realized that because she couldn’t see the camera she felt no shame. She felt naturally beautiful and powerful.
Every woman should do this, even if it’s just for herself. So much shame in the world over things that are so beautiful.
She stood and posed, she was aware of the camera now, but beyond any self-consciousness. Drew could smile on cue, and the person on the receiving end of that smile would feel like she was in love with them.
“Take a break?”
“Sure.”
Drew slipped on her sweats, sat on the cabin’s top step, and drank her Diet Coke. She told Marc she was having fun and thanked him for helping her feel so comfortable.
They discussed the next step, what they figured would be the last set of the day.
They decided on doing a set up by the stream with the fly fishing gear. They packed up some additional props: rubber boots, a fish net, a tackle box, and a fly rod. They grabbed towels and a sweater in case Drew starting shivering from the cold of the stream.
The hike up to the stream took longer than usual because of all the gear they had to carry. Once they got there, Marc spread out a large blanket and set everything on it. He spent some time finding a good spot to set up his tripod and camera. He suggested to Drew a few places to start posing.
“Water shots can be really sexy, but the whole fishing thing isn’t working. Hey. I know. Why don’t you come over here and act like you are tired out. Lie down on this blanket and I’ll have fishing poles and gear in the background. We’ll set it up like you’re taking a rest. You can be down here by the stream, all naked and shit, waiting for some bear or burly fisherman dude to come by.”
“Yeah. That’s fucking legit,” Drew laughed. “Lots of women lie naked along streams while they rest from a hard day’s work fishing for trout. We can sell the pictures to the Alaskan Tourism Council.”
She helped place the fishing gear on the blanket.
Marc gave her some direction, and after a round of shots, he told her they had enough. “I’ll be able to make a great set out of what we have.”
Drew was still lying on the blanket. “Fuck, something’s crawling on my back. Can you check?”
“A red ant. I got it.”
“It itches. Please scratch.”
Marc scratched the spot the ant had been, and Drew purred like a kitten.
“Did I find the right spot?”
“Yes. And now I want you to kiss me.” She turned around and gazed into his eyes. Marc looked like he was going to say something for a half a second, but he thought better of it and leaned down to kiss her.
Drew grabbed his hand and pulled him down to the blanket. She kissed him with strong, long kisses. “You’re overdressed.”
He undressed and Drew watched. He was handsome naked. His slender body was tall, six inches taller than her, but his frame wasn’t huge. He was more like a swimmer or a gymnast than a weight lifter. The proportions were good between them. He had gentle hands and a strong body, and he was a good kisser.
When Marc was com
pletely naked, Drew lost herself. She wanted to please him. She looked around at the forest, the bits of gray sky visible between gaps in the trees, and the stream bubbling like it had for hundreds of years. It was primal and erotic as if they truly were the only couple on earth.
Breathing deeply and rapidly like a wild animal, Marc didn’t speak any words. When his breathing slowed, he moved on to his side next to her. He pulled her close to him, spooning and stroking her hair.
“Whatever happens, Drew, I’ll do whatever I can to protect you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“I never lie," I said offhand. "At least not to those I don't love.”
~ Anne Rice
A lot of tragedy would be averted if people didn’t confuse trust with love. I expect my clients to trust me. I really don’t care if they hate me.
~ Brandon Hull
Marc Chase held Drew and didn’t want to move. His arm was falling asleep, and he needed to pee. The fire still warmed the room, and he hoped she’d want to spend the rest of the night on the couch lying in his arms.
They’d put away all the gear hours earlier and had prepared a simple dinner. The conversation had been lighthearted. They hadn’t talked about her problems nor did they broach the future. After they cleaned up the dishes together, they had made a fire, made love in front of the flames, and then cuddled like they’d been a couple for years.
Drew stirred, and Marc moved his arm. “I have to go to the bathroom. Need anything while I’m up?”
“No. Thank you, I’m good.” She moved so he could get up, and then lay back down and curled up with the blanket they’d been sharing.
When Marc came back he sat and said he thought he should go into town in the morning and contact Cindy Wells. He needed to back-up all the pictures to his cloud storage and maybe pick up a few more things at the grocery store. “Will you be okay here alone most of the day tomorrow?”
Undressed To The Nines: A Thriller Novel (Drew Stirling Book 1) Page 11