Parties in Congress (9 page)

“You can buy the faggity-ass food next time, okay?”

Bijal started to nod, then stopped suddenly. “Wait, are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’ve been drinking iced tea.”

“You two have a good night,” Sue said, clearing the counter. “And don’t forget this.” She held out the autographed copy of
You Fist My Heart
.

Colleen snatched the paperback from her with a grin. “Thanks, Sue. See you next week.”

Sue waved. “G’night.”

Bijal followed Colleen outside, past a small group of women smoking, and started scanning the parked vehicles to see if she could pick out which one was Colleen’s. Not seeing anything particularly unusual, she turned back and saw Colleen undoing the bungee cord on the back of a sleek silver motorcycle. “That isn’t yours, is it?”

Colleen was unfastening two helmets secured there. “You think you’ll be able to hang on?”

Bijal’s fuzzy brain couldn’t process much beyond the image of riding behind Colleen, plastered to the back of her like a hot towel. Suddenly, as though God himself had intervened, her cell phone rang. Still operating on autopilot, she pulled out the phone, opened it, and hit the Speaker button. “Hello?”

“Bijal?” She instantly recognized Fran’s voice as it boomed into the night air. “Are you telling me that you’re with that hot piece of congressional ass, and you didn’t immediately call and invite me out there so I could throw myself at her and try to dry-hump her on the dance floor?”

“Uh…” Bijal felt like her mind was processing a million pieces of information simultaneously, yet she was still unable to form a single word for a coherent response.

“Now hold on,” Fran continued, her voice blaring across the parking lot. “Can you not speak because your mouth is full of—”

“Ahh!” Bijal snapped the phone shut in a fit of panic. “I…think we got disconnected,” she explained weakly.

Colleen was looking at her with what seemed to be a mixture of amusement and pity. “Maybe you should call her back and tell her that you have a ride home. But don’t talk to her on speakerphone this time.”

“Right.” Bijal moved several paces away and dialed. “Fran? Yeah, sorry. No, I’m getting a ride home. Uh-huh. No. No. No! I’m hanging up. Here I go. Bye, Fran. Bye. Bye!” She closed the phone again and slipped it into her pocket. Before she could fabricate what would undoubtedly be a ludicrous explanation, she shifted her gaze to Colleen astride the motorcycle. Her leather jacket was now zipped up, and she had on her helmet and a pair of black gloves. She looked exceptionally sexy. “Oh, dear Lord.”

Colleen held out the other helmet. “Are you ready?”

“More than you know,” Bijal muttered, taking it from her and studying it. The sound of the bike starting up startled her enough to make her jump.

“Hop on.”

Bijal put the helmet on and began fiddling with the chin strap. “Just give me a second to get my pants off.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

“I have no idea. So just climb on back here?”

“Yup, and hang on.”

Bijal slipped into the seat behind Colleen and put her feet on the rear pegs. The vibration of the motor was disturbingly stimulating. “Um, hang on to what?”

“Me. Hold on to my waist. I don’t want to leave you behind on the pavement.” Slowly, Colleen began backing the bike out of the parking lot as Bijal tentatively slid her arms around Colleen’s midsection.

“Is this okay?”

Colleen laughed. “Just keep it above the waist.”

“I’ll do my best. You know, this is a great jacket. It’s so soft.” Bijal caressed the leather like a long-lost lover.

“Keep that up and it’ll have some good things to say about you too.” Colleen opened the throttle and the bike took off.

Much to Bijal’s chagrin, the helmets coupled with the engine noise made conversation very challenging. She was able to give Colleen directions, but any additional small talk was out of the question, and Bijal had been looking forward to a little more playful discourse.

But she hadn’t been prepared for the sensation of flying through the evening on a motorcycle, which was absolutely exhilarating. With the wind whipping her face, she sobered up soon, though she was still enjoying hanging on to Colleen, perhaps a little too much. Colleen felt solid, and while Bijal had anticipated some awkwardness in their forced intimacy, a surprising ease replaced it very quickly.

Of course, none of this diminished the carnal sensations induced from the pulsing motor between her legs. The feel of her breasts rubbing on Colleen’s back was beyond arousing. She tried to focus on enjoying the ride, but her libido frequently pushed her mind back to a ride of a very different nature. By the time they pulled up outside Bijal’s apartment, she was relieved that she could now simply take a cold shower and the battle would be over.

Colleen shut off the bike as Bijal stepped onto the sidewalk and started to undo the chin strap on her helmet.

“So, would you like to come up?”

“I’d better not. What would your roommate think?”

Bijal pulled her helmet off. “Before or after she tries to dry-hump you? I mean, she’s a big fan of yours—she’s a Democrat.”

The corner of Colleen’s mouth rose slightly. “Yeah, we Democrats are big dry-humpers. It’s in our blood.”

Bijal bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. That was so badly worded.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, thanks so much for the ride.”

“Anytime,” Colleen said.

“Do you go to Sue’s bar regularly?”

“Bijal, we probably shouldn’t do this.”

“Chat in the street?” Bijal looked around uneasily. “I know it looks like a sketchy part of town—”

“No, I mean the other ‘this’—flirt, get involved with each other. At least while this election is going on.”

“Is that what we were doing?”

“Well, that’s what my jacket thinks.” Colleen’s voice softened. “Look, I really like you. You’re becoming one of my favorite Republicans.”

Bijal felt herself blushing and couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. “I’m flattered.”

“You and Teddy Roosevelt are my short list, though you’re far cuter.”

“Um, thanks.”

“Well, he had an adorably pert nose,” Colleen said.

“With all due respect to Teddy, I think I have the better ass.”

Colleen chuckled but her eyes quickly raked over Bijal, causing a quiet moment of heat between them. “I thoroughly agree.”

“So what were you saying before you stopped to ogle my ass?”

Colleen snapped back into the conversation. “Oh, right. I was saying that if we saw each other before the election ended—even if we promised not to talk about politics—it would still be a problem.”

“Ethics are so goddamn inconvenient.”

“Which is precisely why so many politicians choose to ignore them.”

Bijal handed the helmet back. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Colleen took it and secured it to the back of the bike. “Yeah, I have a feeling you will. I’d tell you that tomorrow will be better for your campaign, but that’d be bad for me.” The smile she flashed made Bijal’s breath catch.

“Thanks anyway.”

Colleen started the motorcycle. “Good night.”

“G’night,” Bijal answered, giving a quick wave and heading up the steps. As she unlocked her apartment door, she heard Colleen riding away.

Fran walked out of the kitchen with a tall glass of orange juice in one hand and a bottle of Evian in the other. “I just want you to know how disappointed I am in you,” she said, passing the water to Bijal.

Bijal opened the bottle and drank as she flopped onto the sofa. “I know. I didn’t intend to flirt with her. I’ve completely compromised my integrity.”

“No, I mean I can’t believe you just let her bring you here and drop you off. I’d have given her directions to the Sheraton and asked her to walk me to my room.” She sat down next to Bijal and crossed her legs.

“Subtle, Fran. Were you watching out the window?”

“Hell, yeah. So are you going to sit there and tell me that you didn’t find her and that motorcycle hot?”

Bijal laughed. “Oh, my God! She’s so sexy it’s ridiculous. She may be one of the hottest women I’ve ever met. My whole body is throbbing.”

“Ooh, there we go. Tell me all about it.”

“She’s so confident and smart. She started teaching me about whiskey and bourbon, and I could only stare at her mouth while she was talking.”

“Hmm, and is that how you ended up too drunk to drive? Or did you just pretend so you’d have to catch a ride on her pulsing pelvic torpedo?”

“There was no pretending, though I am feeling strangely thankful that I drank too much.”

Fran brushed the hair off her forehead. “So have you decided to quit your job?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Because you want to fuck your opponent, and honestly, that’s the first thing you’ve done in the last two years that I completely understand.”

Bijal slowly absorbed the words and turned them over in her mind. “Look, I have no intention of quitting just because I think Colleen is attractive or because I like her as a person. There’s personal and there’s political, and those two things can and should be separate.”

“So you honestly think you can actively work for a candidate with an ass clown for a campaign manager, while secretly banging the opposition?”

“There was no banging…just a little jacket fondling.”

Fran cocked an eyebrow. “Was she
wearing
it while you fondled it?”

Bijal nodded, then put her face in her hands. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“I’ll just bet you are.”

Bijal stood and yawned. “And if you’re nice, when I get out I’ll tell you about the author I met tonight at the bar who hit on me.”

“No shit? What was her name?”

“Um, I think it was Spanky McFisterson.”

“Nice.”

Bijal stepped out of the taxicab in The Klit N’ Kaboodle parking lot and was happy to see her car waiting patiently for her. Contrary to her fears from the night before, she had no signs of a hangover and was feeling surprisingly good.

Perhaps she’d been right that she had just needed to blow off a little steam. Though it would have been even better if she’d ended her evening rolling around naked with a certain hot congresswoman, she was still riding the remnants of the adrenaline rush from their flirting, coupled with the intimate ride home.

As she unlocked her car door, she saw a piece of paper jammed under the windshield wiper blade.

“If that’s a parking ticket, I’m going ballistic.” She slid it out and unfolded a piece of notebook paper that sported handwriting she didn’t recognize.

Bijal~

I enjoyed chatting with you last night a great deal, and I hope we can do it again sometime. You never know when our paths may cross again, after all. If not sooner, perhaps we can plan something in a couple months. (I’m thinking sometime after the first Tuesday in November).

Here’s wishing you a better workday today, though obviously not too good.

Take care,

Spyxie

Bijal chuckled as she ran her fingers lightly over the signature before folding the note back up and slipping it into the sun visor. She started the engine and pulled out into the road, headed for work.

It had been nearly a year since Bijal had seriously dated someone, and even longer still since someone had conjured butterflies in her gut the way Colleen did. In the absence of someone who was the irresistible force to her immovable object, she’d dated women she found physically attractive, but unfortunately hadn’t experienced any deep personal connection. As a result, nothing more than casual sexual relationships had developed, and she was surprised by the unforeseen pang of loneliness that now came out of nowhere. Had she really been missing something deeper and just hadn’t noticed until now?

Perhaps so, because these new feelings seemed somehow foreign and exciting, though of course the least convenient person possible had sparked them. That was so classically Bijal’s bad fortune—sort of like being rescued from a burning building by a large razor blade. She laughed softly to herself. The only thing worse than her luck was her penchant for crappy similes.

As she waited for the red light to change, she considered Colleen’s offer of a post–Election Day date. True, that was many weeks away, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t all that long, she supposed.

Of course, this might be just some elaborate, fucked-up strategy to distract Bijal from properly doing her job. Her stomach sank a little. If Colleen thought that Bijal’s heart wasn’t completely in this fight, it might be a form of passive sabotage—and perhaps Colleen found that political game more palatable than simply outing Bijal to Janet Denton and the rest of the campaign staff. Mind games, instead of something overt that could be construed as hypocritical.