It was a bright sunny spring day and the sun shone on my face. I was standing at David’s graveside, looking out on a vast sea of people as far as the eye could see. My friends and my children were seated nearby. The holovision cameras captured these moments in time for all eternity.
I tried to begin my eulogy to David but, as I opened my mouth to speak, a soft, banging sound intruded into my consciousness becoming louder and louder. Gradually, the scene before me started to fade, to be replaced by the depressing surroundings of my bedroom in the Underground White House.
The banging sound resumed — or rather it was a knocking sound — and then the door opened and Henry walked inside.
“Morning sleepyhead,” Henry practically sang. “Time to get your lazy ass out of bed.”
“Wha — what time is it?” I asked.
“Five-thirty,” Henry answered.
“Five-fucking-thirty in the morning?” I asked.
“It ain’t five-fucking-thirty in the evening,” Henry answered.
“Why the hell so early?” I asked.
“Because President Schroeder just nominated you as his pick for vice-president,” Henry replied, as if that explained anything. Seeing that the ramifications were still eluding me, he elaborated, “You’re scheduled to appear before a joint session of the House and Senate Judiciary Committees at one o’clock this afternoon. Before you can appear in front of the committees, you need to complete a standard committee questionnaire, and it has to be turned in before ten this morning so the committee members can have a chance to go over it. After that, we need to spend some time going over your answers to questions they’re likely to ask.”
“Shit, I didn’t have to do all that to run for Congress,” I complained.
“No, you just had to raise millions of dollars, run in the primary, raise millions more, knock on thousands of doors, kiss hundreds of babies, survive a blistering attack by your opponent who alleged the only reason you were running was ’cause you were David’s husband, and prepare for and survive a debate.”
“OK, your point is well-taken,” I admitted, “but as one of their own and the former First Gentleman, and as someone who’s already been through a thorough background check and has the highest possible security clearance, you’d think there shouldn’t need to be so much scrutiny.”
“Jer, no one has a security clearance like the President of the United States, anywhere in the world,” Henry explained. “There are things the president is privy to that no one other individual is. Because the V.P. could become the president at any time, there will be particular scrutiny.”
“But Schroeder didn’t have to go through anything like this to become Speaker of the House,” I pointed out.
“No, and I think it’s been evident the past few days that he should have,” Henry agreed. “Perhaps this will make the members of the House take their responsibility more seriously in the future, rather than simply awarding the position based on seniority. The Speaker is the only position in the House with a direct line of succession to the presidency.
“In any case, Jer, believe me, your nomination is being fast-tracked by Congressional standards and I think you know that. It usually takes weeks from the time a Presidential appointment is made until confirmation by both the House and the Senate takes place. The fact that the committees are holding their hearings jointly speaks volumes. Unless we run into any unexpected hitches, you’ll likely be confirmed by the day after tomorrow.”
“Actually, that is pretty amazing,” I admitted.
“Damn right it is,” Henry reiterated. “Now why don’t you grab a quick shower and by the time you’re dressed, I’ll have breakfast waiting for us in your office.”
“Aye-aye, boss,” I acknowledged.
“And don’t you ever forget who’s the boss,” Henry joked with a laugh.
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The Committee chamber in the Underground Capitol was nothing more than a conference room with cheap tables, folding chairs and buzzing fluorescent lights. I sat at a table in the front of the room, with Henry and Kurt at my side. Members of the House and Senate Judiciary Committees sat at a series of long tables arrayed, one behind the other, in order of rank. Members of the press were crowded around the periphery of the room. Holographic cameras were also positioned around the room to record my testimony for posterity, and for public consumption.
I’d spent virtually all morning with Henry filling out the questionnaire, which was incredibly detailed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had asked me the color of my underwear by the time we were finished. We had precious little time to go over likely questions to be asked by the committee but, by the same token, there probably would have been damn little time for the members of the committee to have read much of the questionnaire in advance.
The hearing began precisely at one o’clock when the chairman called the session to order. Fortunately, the chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee was Senator Udall, a seasoned politician, a Democrat, and a friend. Besides the chairman, there were seventeen senators on the committee, nine of them Democrats and eight of them Republicans. By agreement, the chairman of the House committee, a Republican, deferred to Senator Udall to run the proceedings, although he made it clear that he was a co-chair and not subservient. Besides the chairman, there were 38 representatives on the committee, nineteen from each party. All of the members from both houses would have a chance to ask questions and I had little illusion that the Republicans would pull any punches. Their goal would be to embarrass me if possible, getting the President or me to withdraw my nomination so that a Republican could be appointed to the position instead.
At the end of the day, both the Senate and House committees would have to approve of my nomination for it to move forward. Unfortunately, a two-thirds majority was needed to end debate and, hence, we would need the vote of at least two Republican Senators and seven Republican Congressmen to move my nomination forward, should the Republicans decide to stonewall the nomination. Although very unlikely, given I was nominated by a Republican and the Republicans would ordinarily tend to support their President’s wishes, there was a chance the Republican leadership would decide to try to force Schroeder to dump me in favor of a Republican.
“Mr. Vice-President Designee, for the record, could you please state your full name and date of birth?” Senator Udall began.
“My name is Jeremy William Kimball-Reynolds,” I answered, “and I was born on April fourteenth, 1993.”
“You’re less than a month away from a big one,” Senator Udall commented, reminding me that the big 5-0 was just around the corner.
“Scarcely a day goes by that someone doesn’t remind me of it too,” I added, drawing laughter from everyone in the room, myself included.
“Mr. Designee,” Senator Udall continued, “I’m gonna ask the first question to get things started, and it’s a simple one that shouldn’t require a lot of thought. Please tell us in your own words why you think you’re qualified to be the Vice-President of the United States of America.”
If that was a simple question that didn’t require much thought, I was going to hate facing some of the more difficult questions! I had to frame my answer carefully.
Senator, what makes anyone qualified? The Constitution itself is very vague in this regard. All it says is that one has to be a native-born citizen and thirty-five years of age. I obviously qualify on both counts.”
After waiting for the laughter to quiet down, I continued, “Anyone can run for President — and quite a few people have. My husband, if anything, was over-qualified, having been a two-term governor, a two-term Congressman and having completed a full term in the Senate. I myself am in my fifth term as a U.S. Congressman. This is my ninth year as an elected representative in Congress. I am privileged to serve on the Agriculture Committee, on Energy and Commerce, on Transportation and Infrastructure, and on the Small Business Committee. I’m very privileged to serve on the all-important House Ways and Means Committee and on the Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence. I’ve authored or co-authored over sixty pieces of original legislation and sponsored or co-sponsored over three hundred bills and resolutions…
“It sounds like you’ve been busy,” the committee chairman interrupted and everyone laughed.
You could say that, but being an active participant in Congress hardly qualifies one to be vice-president or president. What matters is a person’s dedication, willingness to serve, leadership abilities and, most importantly, their vision. Ever since I met David Reynolds at the age of fourteen, I knew that my future was in public service. David may have been the one in the public eye, but we developed our ideology, our vision of the future, together. We constantly bounced ideas off each other and our political philosophies developed together in lock step.
David may have been the Class President, but I was on the Student Council. The only reason I remained in the background was my quest for Olympic Gold. As everyone knows, it was a quest that was successful. David and I both graduated at the top of our class at Harvard Law. I was in fact the valedictorian. We both clerked for the Supreme Court, and we both joined the American Red Cross and served in Guatemala in the midst of their Civil War — an assignment for which we both earned the Congressional Medal of Honor. David became the youngest governor in the history of our state, and I served as his legislative liaison, a key position that was critical to his success as governor.
When David came to Washington, I came with him, serving as his Congressional Chief of Staff. When he ran for Senate, I ran for his Congressional seat and won. Some might say I rode into office on his coattails, but I have since managed to be reelected four times in my own right and, as already stated, I have been far from a passive participant in Congress.
Now that David’s gone, I have no choice but to stand on my own. David was my rock, but my convictions, my beliefs and my vision remain intact. They are as strong as they have ever been. My husband may have played the dominant role in politics, but my level of commitment is no less, my dedication no less and my ability to lead no less than was his. During these troubled times, I am exceptionally well-prepared to serve as the Speaker of the Senate, to serve as the President’s closest advisor and, God forbid, to take over as President should the need arise.
Thank you, Mr. Chairman,” I concluded.
“That’s quite an excellent answer,” Senator Udall responded, “and I seriously doubt that anyone would doubt your willingness, readiness or commitment to serving as vice-president. That you are well-qualified is not the question here,” he continued, much to my relief. “I think everyone around the table would agree that you are. The question before us today is whether or not there is anything that might disqualify you from serving in office.
“I’ve reviewed your questionnaire and had my assistants review each section in depth,” he went on, “and we can find nothing on the questionnaire that, in and of itself, should lead to any questions as to your ability to serve the office for which you have been nominated. I am sure that many of my colleagues, however, particularly those from across the aisle, will have more specific questions they would like to ask.
“Before we proceed with questions from other members of the committee, however, I would like to ask a general one that addresses the unusual situation of your being from a different political party than the President. You have stated a willingness to support the President no matter what, even when his decisions run counter to your own beliefs. I have no doubt in your sincerity, but can you envision any situation in which you would feel compelled to break with the President and, if so, how would you handle the situation?”
Man, for a so-called friend, he was throwing me some really tough questions! I had to frame my answers carefully.
Mr. Chairman, none of us can foresee all possible scenarios in advance. The one thing that is critical to the credibility and effectiveness of any administration is that it speak with one voice. It is unacceptable for there to be any hint of discord, even through leaked sources. I will always fight to keep the vision of David Reynolds alive but, in the end, I will support President Schroeder, come Hell or high water.
Of course even presidents are fallible. Presidents make mistakes. I’m sure there are many who would have liked to have kept us from going to war in Iraq, for example, some of whom would have gone as far as to have impeached George Bush. It’s easy to say we should have removed him from office in retrospect, but we had to take the evidence he provided at face value at the time. Hindsight is always perfect, as they say.
Should Marvin Schroeder ever prepare to take an action that I am convinced would lead the United States off a cliff — an action that would cause irreparable harm to the country — I will with great reluctance invoke the twenty-fifth amendment. I will do so only as a last resort and only if I'm unable to convince the President of the seriousness of his actions, or he to convince me of their necessity. Failing to remove him from office in this manner, I will of course resign the vice-presidency.
In all fairness, Mr. Chairman, if a candidate for the office of vice-president cannot state their willingness to invoke the twenty-fifth under these circumstances, they have no business being vice-president.
Smiling at me, Senator Udall responded, “For the record, I agree with you, Congressman. The provision of the twenty-fifth amendment that provides for removal of the president from office was intended to be used only as a last resort when there isn’t even time for impeachment. That said, there would be little point in having said provision if it were never to be used at all. Vice-presidents must be loyal to the presidents under whom they serve, but that loyalty should never extend to the point of following the President as they lead the country off a cliff.
“At this point,” the Senator continued, “I’m going to allow each member of the committee to pose one question with one and only one follow-up question. After everyone’s had a chance to ask their first question, we’ll go around the room again and allow for a second question and so on until everyone’s satisfied they have enough information on which to cast their vote.”
The first round of questions was surprisingly easy. The Democrats in particular seemed more intent on asking questions that they knew would make me look good, but even the Republicans asked questions that went easy on me and I began to think that this truly was a formality. It was during the second round of questions that the Republicans began to turn up the heat.
The Senator from Utah asked in all sincerity what kind of role model a gay vice-president would set for the youth of America. Henry and I had already anticipated that question and my answer was short and sweet. “The same kind of role model that a gay president has already set for the youth of America,” I answered, which earned a round of laughter and put the Senator in his place.
The Senator’s follow-up question, however, totally threw me for a loop. We’d already discussed how some Republican members of the committee might try to paint me as a slut, just because I was gay, and we’d already prepared an answer. The Senator asked, “Congressman, can you state under oath with absolute certainty that you have never cheated on your husband?” Fortunately, the Senator was known to be a womanizer and so it was easy to turn the tables on him.
Senator, I fail to see the relevance of your follow-up question to the original one; however, my faithfulness to David Reynolds has never been open to question. We fell in love when we were fourteen years old and never once looked back. I would challenge anyone on the committee to match that record. In particular, Senator, would you be willing to answer that question if our roles had been reversed?
The Senator was silent, and yet I could not help but think back to the one time in my life when I came very close to making a very serious mistake…
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“Hey, Sam,” I said as my face lit up at the sight of my lifelong friend. I was in the midst of campaigning for the Congressional seat David was giving up to run for the Senate. David and I had planned to spend most of our time on the campaign trail together but it just hadn’t worked out that way. I was campaigning for the fourth Congressional district, which consisted of a very narrow strip that extended from the southern to the northern part of the state and included the western suburbs of the state capital, which was where David and I kept our home.
I’d grown up in the seventh district, which encompassed most of the city and was considered a safe seat for the Democrats. When David decided to run for Congress, we immediately gave up hope of his representing the seventh district, which was already represented by a highly respected six-term Democrat. We wouldn’t have wanted to displace him by running in the primary, for that matter — he was a good man.
David, on the other hand, grew up in what was now the fifth district, which was one of the most solidly Republican districts in the nation. It included the highly Republican northeast, eastern and southern suburbs of the city, as well as rural countryside extending nearly all the way to Fort Wayne. David was an exceptional politician, but even he didn’t believe in running a race of futility. Even if he were a Republican, it seemed doubtful the fifth district would vote for a gay man.
That left us with the fourth district, which encompassed the western-most suburbs and extended to the north, almost to the Lake, and included some southern counties as well. It was by-and-large a rural district with the exception of Lafayette, which was an industrial city with a metropolitan population of nearly a quarter million. Lafayette and the adjacent university town of West Lafayette were Democratic strongholds and a high turnout there helped to tip the scales in our favor.
Perhaps even more significant was that David had virtually single-handedly revitalized the state’s farm economy when he was governor. Farmers didn’t care that he was gay — they cared that he was the man responsible for saving their farms. When David first ran for the seat, he blew the incumbent away, garnering close to sixty percent of the vote. I, on the other hand, didn’t have David’s track record and the latest polls showed me running neck-and-neck with my Republican opponent.
“Just a reminder that I’m back to using ‘Sammy’,” Sammy noted as he entered my campaign headquarters in a strip mall on Rockville Road, just barely within the district.
Laughing, I said, “After years of you going by Sam and doing everything you could to lose your accent, it’s weird to hear you talking like an uncultured southerner again and going by the name of Sammy.”
“I may talk with an accent,” Sammy countered, “but ‘uncultured’? Come on, I still enunciate well.”
“You do at that,” I agreed with a smile. “So how’s Sally?” I asked, changing the subject.
Sighing, he replied, “We’ve separated — and we’re probably gonna get a divorce.”
“Oh Sammy,” I said as I leapt from my chair and engulfed him in a tight hug.
“It’s been coming for some time,” Sammy explained. “The bottom line is that we’re hardly ever intimate and as much as we love each other, it isn’t working out. When we do have sex, I often get a little too physical — sometimes even a little violent. She’s afraid to have sex with me and frankly, I’m afraid of hurting her. It’s just no way to live in a relationship.”
“Damn,” I exclaimed, “the legacy of Gary lives on.”
“That bastard sure managed to fuck me up,” Sammy agreed.
“Being repeatedly raped’ll do that to a guy,” I commented.
“God knows if I’ll ever be able to give a woman what she wants,” Sammy lamented.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” I replied.
“Here’s hoping,” Sammy agreed, and then asked, “So how’s David?”
“It’s been a tough campaign and we hardly see each other at all,” I explained. “We talk every night and even do a little phone sex now and then, but we’re both extremely busy, so it’s not very often. Shit, it’s been almost five weeks since the last time I saw him, and even then it was only for an evening. Our schedules are packed and we never seem to be in the same place at the same time, even though we’re in the same state.”
“That’s a shame,” Sammy agreed.
“You know, since the age of fourteen, David and I have always been together. We did everything together. Even during the Olympic trials and my training, he stayed nearby and we saw each other nearly every day. Before now, I don’t think we were ever apart for more than a few days. This is killing me.”
“I can imagine,” Sam sympathized, and then he added, “You know, since we’re both alone at the moment, why don’t you spend the evening having a bachelors' night with me? I could fire up the grill and put on some salmon fillets and make you a meal the likes of which you haven’t had in a while. You know I’m a gourmet. We could have a few beers and shoot the shit. We’d have a blast!”
“That’s a wonderful offer, Sammy,” I answered, “but I have sooo much to do here in preparation for the debates in a couple of weeks.”
“Don’t you have Henry to do that for you?” Sammy asked.
“Don’t get me wrong — Henry’s a big help,” I answered, “but I’m the one who’ll be facing Rawlins. Henry does go over likely questions with me on a daily basis, but it’s the subtleties that will win or lose the debate — and the election.”
“And it’s your attention to detail that’ll win you the election,” Sammy added, “but you’ve still gotta eat, and there is such a thing as the point of diminishing returns. You look like you’re nearly burned out. You need an evening of relaxation, so what do you say?”
The grin on Sammy’s face was impossible to ignore. He was so sincere, so kind and thoughtful and, I had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. Not that I would ever cheat on David, but Sammy was a good guy and he was a lot of fun to be around.
“OK,” I answered.
“OK?” Sammy asked in confirmation and I nodded my head. “That’s fucking fantastic!”
Because Sammy drove a little Honda Civic — hardly the car one would expect of the mayor of a city of two million — we took my Infinity Eco-Star 500 electric.
“Nice car!” Sammy exclaimed when we got in.
“This your first time seeing it?” I asked.
“First time from the inside,” he acknowledged. “So how far can this baby go on a charge?”
“Thanks to the new nitrogen-cooled batteries, about six hundred miles.”
Whistling, Sammy said, “That’s impressive.”
“Plus it does zero to sixty in 4.8 seconds without sacrificing range or battery life, and there are no tailpipe emissions.”
“So how much did this baby set you back?”
“Close to a quarter mil,” I answered
“Damn!” Sammy exclaimed. “That’s like five times what I paid for my Civic.”
“The Civic’s a nice car, Sammy, but this is my pride and joy. David thinks it was a lot to spend, but my Infinity runs far less in energy costs per mile than your Civic, and it’s virtually maintenance-free. Even the tires use a new airless carbon fiber matrix that never wears out, provides better traction than rubber and has a fraction of the rolling resistance. Some day all cars will be built this way.”
Laughing and with a smirk on his face, Sammy replied, “Yeah, and you’ll need to take out a mortgage to buy one.”
Sammy directed me to drive into town, where we stopped off at the Public Market and picked up fresh salmon and the other ingredients we’d need for dinner. He then directed me to West Street and the townhouse he was renting, right on the Central Canal.
Walking from the garage into his living room, I said, “This is really nice. I love the open layout, and you have a great view of downtown.”
“And check this out,” he added as he led me out a sliding glass door onto a patio. The patio was surrounded by a cleverly designed metallic mesh fence that let us see out onto the canal, but that kept the people walking along the canal path from seeing in. Sammy had a huge outdoor gas grill, and he wasted little time in firing it up.
“It’s hot as blazes out here,” Sammy commented, “and it’ll be even fucking worse standing in front of this grill. I’m gonna change out of these clothes. Would you like me to get you a pair of shorts as well?” he asked.
Since a business suit was hardly the proper attire for a barbecue, I heartily agreed. A few minutes later, Sammy came back down the stairs wearing only a pair of skimpy shorts and a smile. He tossed me a similar pair of shorts and I went back inside to put them on while Sammy got started on dinner.
I carefully draped my dress clothes over one of Sammy’s living room chairs, but when I got down to my boxers, I had a problem. My boxers were quite a bit longer than the shorts Sammy gave me, so it would have looked ridiculous to put them on over my boxers, but Sammy was a good looking guy and my body was reacting as might be expected. Mentally, I started going over some of the points I hoped to make in the debates and, sure enough, that did the trick. Facing away from Sammy, I removed my boxers and donned the shorts.
While Sammy cooked dinner, we chatted amicably about my campaign and Sammy’s first term as mayor. He was working on a controversial plan to merge the city and suburban school districts, which had been excluded from the city-county merger back in the seventies. Then, it was a matter of political expediency as the city schools were crap and suburbanites would have never surrendered autonomy over their schools.
Now, however, many of the inner ring suburbs had large populations of poor minorities and their schools were struggling. The city school district, on the other hand, was among the best in the nation, thanks to gentrification and in large part to Sammy’s efforts during his years as superintendent. Now it made perfect sense to merge all the school districts, targeting resources where they were most needed and introducing greater specialization and city-wide school choice.
“Hey, guess what?” Sammy said as we sat down to dinner on his patio.
“What?” I asked.
“The RNC has approached me about running for the seventh district after I finish my first and I guess only term as mayor.”
“In two years?” I inquired, but I knew the answer.
“Exactly,” Sammy confirmed.
“But the seventh district is the most heavily Democratic district in the state,” I challenged.
“Which is why they want me to run for it,” Sammy explained. “I’m a fairly liberal Republican, but my stance on abortion is a major inducement for the Republican party faithful in the city to get out the vote. My centrist views on most everything else would have broad appeal to the general electorate and would likely peel away some of the more conservative Democrats from the incumbent. They think I can pull off a coup, and I think they’re right.”
“But the incumbent's a good man,” I countered.
“You of all people should know, in politics, that really doesn’t matter. I think you know I’m a good man too, and if I can win, why not go for it? I can do a hell of a lot more in Washington than I can here, and you know that.”
“You’re right, Sammy. If you do run, David and I might very well break ranks with the Democrats and campaign for you.”
“You’d do that?” Sammy asked.
“Of course we would,” I answered. “You’re family, after all.”
Sammy stood up and motioned for me to do the same, and then he pulled me into a tight embrace. It was an expression of the brotherly love we felt for one another.
Then something happened. Perhaps it was that I hadn’t had sex with David in weeks. Perhaps it was the feeling of our smooth, sweaty bare chests against each other. For whatever reason, I started to get hard. I tried to pull away, but Sammy wouldn’t let me go, and then I felt that he was getting hard too.
Sammy didn’t feel anything like David. David was four inches taller than me, whereas Sammy was less than an inch shorter. David had wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, whereas Sammy’s hair was straight and a lighter shade of blond than my own, and his eyes were turquoise blue. David had a dusting of hair on his chest and enough of a beard that he sometimes needed to shave twice a day. Sammy’s chest was as smooth as mine and, even this late in the day, his face barely had any stubble. His shoulders were smattered with freckles that gave him a boyish look that was thoroughly endearing.
Before I even realized what was happening, our lips came together and our tongues became entwined. The next thing I knew, we’d moved back inside and we were lying down on the living room sofa, making out in earnest and grinding away. We were on fire! I could feel myself building toward a climax as my toes started to curl and my balls drew up tight against my body. It would only be a matter of seconds now.
Suddenly I heard a voice in my head — it sounded like my dead brother Cliff’s voice. “STOP!” the voice said.
Sammy and I pulled away from each other with a loud smack. “Did you hear that?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Sammy acknowledged. “It sounded like Cliff.”
“My God, if we’d have gone any further — If I’d actually cum, I'd have never forgiven myself for cheating on David.”
“David would have forgiven you,” Sammy stated flatly as he looked at me with sympathy.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “He probably would have. He would have been hurt, but he’d have understood and stood by me. But I never could have.”
“And I’d have never forgiven myself for getting you to cheat on David in the first place,” Sammy added, “but you’re still gonna tell David, aren’t you?” he asked in astonishment.
“I have to, Sammy,” I explained. “I could never look him straight in the eye again unless I told him what happened.”
“You’re lucky, Jer,” Sammy commented. “He’ll understand and forgive you, and the two of you will come out of it stronger than ever. I can feel it in my heart.”
“We’re still friends, right?” I asked with a hint of desperation in my voice that even I could hear.
“Best of friends,” Sammy agreed, “but that’s all we can ever be.” Then looking down at our obvious arousal, he added, “We still seem to have a problem. I’ll tell you what — I’ll take the upstairs bathroom, and you can use the powder room down here.” As he ran up the stairs, he called back down to me, “Don’t forget to clean up after yourself!” Eww!
Sitting in the powder room, it didn’t take me long and as I came, it was David I thought about. All was as it should be.
Sammy was obviously as embarrassed as I was but we managed to have a delightful conversation as we finished dinner. At least he had the good sense to bring down a couple of shirts with him or it could have been a lot more embarrassing than it already was.
As we prepared to head back to my office so Sammy could retrieve his car, he asked with a cute, sly smile, “Do you think maybe I could drive back to your office?”
“You want to drive the Infinity?” His eager grin told me all I needed to know, and so I tossed him the keys. It was a miracle we weren’t stopped along the way.
When we arrived and parked next to Sammy’s car, he said, “I bought the Civic because it’s a good, practical, reliable car, but man is your car ever fun!”
“You’re not exactly poor, Sammy,” I commented. Your family’s worth millions, and I know you have access to a fair chunk of change. You really aren’t renting that townhouse on the canal. You bought it, didn’t you?”
“Well yeah,” he admitted shyly.
“It must have cost you around a million I bet.”
“One point two mil,” he confirmed.
“You’re going to be a U.S. Congressman pretty soon if I have anything to do with it. You deserve a better car. You deserve to have some fun,” I admonished him.
“I’ll think about it, Jer,” he replied, and then added, “and thanks for being so cool about — everything.”
“We just got carried away,” I said. “I wish you well in your life without Sally, and hope you find happiness,” I added as I squeezed his shoulder.
When I got home, I was flabbergasted to find that David was there, waiting for me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I gave him a quick peck on the lips and then we grinned at each other.
Getting a more serious look on his face, David answered, “I had a strange dream earlier this evening. I guess I dozed off, but I saw you and Sammy lying down wearing practically nothing and making out like crazy — but it wasn’t a dream, was it?”
Feeling embarrassed, I looked down and didn’t say anything. David lifted my chin back up with his finger and looked into my eyes. “But you stopped,” he said.
“It was Cliff that stopped us,” I answered.
“I know, and it was Cliff that brought me the dream. Sometimes I think he’s our guardian angel or something,” David admitted. Continuing to look into my eyes, he said, “Listen, Sammy’s a very good-looking guy. He’s a wonderful person, too. Had our roles been reversed, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing, and I know you’d have forgiven me just as I forgive you.”
Pulling me into him, I cried on David’s shoulder as he cried on mine. When our sobbing subsided, David added, “It wasn’t your fault, Jer. It was every bit as much my fault as yours. We’ve both been putting this campaign ahead of those we love, and that has to stop, right here, right now.
“We’re not exactly poor,” he continued. “We have the resources to get anywhere by whatever means necessary at any time. There’s absolutely no reason at all we shouldn’t return to our home most evenings to spend the night together. Let us pledge never again to spend more time apart than absolutely necessary.”
Smiling at my wonderful husband, I replied, “That’s a pledge I’m more than happy to make.” I then kissed him on the lips and our kissing became much, much more.
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“Congressman,” a Republican Congresswoman from Texas began, bringing me out of my reverie, “What is your opinion of the so-called Reynolds Doctrine?” Finally a question of relevance! This was David’s and my turf and I felt confident I could blow any counterarguments out of the water. I had a feeling there would be a lot of follow-up questions from the Republican members of the Committee, and even some of the Democrats, but this was a battle I could win.
The author gratefully acknowledges the invaluable assistance of David of Hope in editing, Low Flyer in proofreading and Ed in beta reading my stories, as well as Gay Authors, Awesome Dude and Nifty for hosting them. © Altimexis 2012