sheâs managed to talk to the senator. He says he doesnât even know her name.â
I didnât like any of this. An elected official, from small town council member to president of the United States, is a target for so many people with bad intent. Thereâs always the possibility that the other side is setting a trap for you or that the very ordinary-looking person wishing you well is actually an assassin who managed to slip a weapon past security.
âIâll be right back,â I said, already on my feet.
The two of them stood just outside the shadows of the dance floor. In the lighted area, which was at least three-fourths of the ballroom, people were sedately partying. You didnât see a lot of ladies ripping off their clothes and dancing on tables at fundraisers, though something like that would be more than welcome on nights when the speeches were interminable.
The closer I got the more I realized that she was not quite human. She was a fashion magazine icon pretending to be flesh and blood. She had been cleaned, painted and dressed to please one of those photographers who are more famous than the women they shoot. In her shiny black dress her perfect body was almost a match for her perfect face. But nothing could quite match it. God had been in a very good mood the day Heâd created her.
She sensed me before Robert did and was already luring me to her before he turned to watch me close in on them.
Five times at the senatorâs recent events. She was wrong in every way. Before Robert could say anything I reached out, took her hand and said, âThe senator needs to go back to his table, so how about having this dance with me?â
For just a moment consternation shone in those blue eyes; she knew she was in some kind of trouble but it had come on so quickly she hadnât been able to prepare for combat. Then, âWhy, of course. Iâd never turn down a handsome man.â To Robert, âIt was so nice seeing you again, Senator. My group really appreciates everything youâve done for womenâs rights.â
âSenator, your wife and daughter asked me to ask you if youâd come back to your table. Your daughter wants to tell you about the play sheâs in.â
Robert, confused, embarrassed and angry, said, âIt was very nice seeing you again.â Then to me, restraining himself with great effort: âIâll talk to you later, my friend. Be prepared.â
Then he stalked off.
She was a pro for sure. She was already sliding her arm around my waist as she said, âHeâs bigger than you are. Think you could beat him up?â
âI have an agreement with my clients. I donât beat them up unless they donât pay their bills.â
âYouâre a practical man. Good common sense.â
âSo just who the hell are you?â
A faux Southern accent. âI do declare, Mr Conrad, that you just might give me the vapors. I like strong, tough men.â
She knew my name, meaning that she would also know everything else about me.
âYour name.â
âTracy Cabot. See, Iâm easy.â
âAnd you do what?â
âAre you going to beat me up if I donât tell you?â At least sheâd dropped the accent.
âAnd you do what, Tracy?â
âOh, youâre no fun.â And then she brought us together in a most pleasing way and as we held each other, the feel and shape of her body forced me to close my eyes for a time and just enjoy the touch and smell and urgency of her. She led me onto the dance floor and we danced.
âNow, see, isnât that better?â She was having fun with the dumb guy. Give him an erection and he was your slave.
âWho do you work for?â
âWould you really expect me to tell you?â
âNo. But at least weâre cutting through the bullshit. I donât want you around the senator anymore.â
âJealous? Want him for
Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson