The Many Loves & Lies of Senator X

"Thanks," I held up my open palm as I took one step backward. "I only have a half hour." The girl pushed out her bottom lip.

"Ya' sure, kid? She's the best?"

"I... I'm sure. Thank you... anyway," I continued haltingly while I drank in her streamlined features. With my heart pounding in my chest I thought, "A Master's degree better be worth it."

"Did she... uh is she a... um an intern?" I asked while I stared down her low neck blouse at tempting flesh. The Senator spoke while the woman stood and smoothed out her clothing.

"Nah. She was a DQ'ed in the talent competition in the Miss Maryland contest. Some do-gooder judge took issue with the... um artistic nature of her ping pong ball act. Too many fuckin' liberal judges, anyway," he added as aside. "I liked her act and told her I needed someone to help me 'grease the wheels' here in the 'big top.'"

"The big top?"

"Sure, kid. DC is just like the circus: everything is round, in threes and ya got lions, daredevils and plenty of clowns. But we don't have any cars that can hold a bunch o' people like those clown cars... Kitty Cat, make a note," he turned to the blond briefly before he headed purposefully down the hall towards the Senate Chambers. "Research, tiny car that can hold a bunch o' people..." He pursed his lips and finished confidently, "Like those clown cars." Katerina wrote as she matched his stride.

"Should I write down 'like at that circus?'" she quizzed.

Senator X stopped briefly in thought and then continued on his way.

"Nah. I'll remember."

The dark wood paneled hallway flashed past while Senator X's hurried pace carried us along, like starving dogs behind a garbage truck, until he pulled up in front of a door marked "Spa — Members only."

"Sorry, kid. Congressional members and staff only," he pointed towards the gold leaf lettering on the door. "Come on back tonight about 11 and we can talk some more." He punched a code into the electronic lock and finished with that broad smile of his. Then he snaked his hand under the tall blond's skirt to "escort" her through the heavy door. A woman's squeal and then a giggle echoed from inside the room until the door banged closed. All sounds from within were cut off from the outside world when the door slammed home. Congressional members could have had a "clothing optional" bowling alley behind those sound proof walls for all the public knew.

I trudged back down the long hallway passing by a senior Senator who first ran for Congress on December 8, 1941. Critics accused the man of dodging his country's call to arms during its hour of need, but the former "Dixiecrat" took an honorary title of "Colonel" from his home state to quiet his opponents. He had served in Congress longer than most of his constituents had been alive.

Now the man rode in his electric wheelchair towards the "Spa" entrance with a comely brunette astride his lap, her fingers dallying with his shirt buttons while he whispered into her ear. Behind the pair was a recently paroled ex-Senator applying what looked like a signature rubber stamp to papers inside a leather folder. The younger man's gaze challenged mine as we passed. I found myself examining the plush carpet beneath my footsteps to avoid his haughty scowl.

DC has two distinct classes: elected officials and former elected officials who got caught and became lobbyists. The lines can become blurred but in America there is enough money and power to satisfy both, providing that the nosy public and the liberal judges kept their attention focused on other issues.

*********

(Note — as I prepared this final draft for committee review I found several pieces of confetti still clinging to my notes taken the last meeting I had with Senator X. When I arrived at his office numerous "lobbyists" and Congressional "Aides" were present. The room was so crowded, in fact, I could not see the Senator until he stood atop his desk to do a brief strip tease act with the blond from the club "Girls Girls Girls.")

11 PM Wednesday Senator X's office — final interview.

Pushing through the crowded room to face the Senator I had my genitalia fondled three times, lost a button on my shirt and had my wallet stolen. As I approached the man he swung Katerina out of his lap and straightened his tie. His shirt was wrapped around his head like a turban while Katerina wore only high heels and a 2 inch by 3 inch sticker, applied near her collar bone, that read, "Hello I'm..." Where the name would be written was an obscene figure drawn in felt pen.

"Hiya, kid." He beamed at me as he yelled above the beating music. "Glad to see you could make it to my fund raiser." Arms outstretched he presented the crowd as his political faithful. I scanned the group while they danced as one body and spotted Congressmen, former Congressmen, Supreme Court Justices, two former presidential candidates and one empty electric wheelchair.

"Hey, I wanted you to have some help editing your paper," the Senator shouted. His blond assistant was kissing her way through the man's graying chest hairs as he spoke. Tapping his index finger on her head the blond mane shook and focused her attention briefly on the Senator, who whispered into her ear, and then she spun her head towards me. My throat felt like I had just swallowed a whole coconut as I watched her pad towards me — across his mahogany desk — on her hands and knees.

The Senator shouted, "That's why I call her Kitty Cat." .

"If you drink some punch and then get caught somewhere refuse the sobriety test," he yelled. "Better to lose your license for a year than have 'em find that stuff." Those were the last words I heard from him that night before he disappeared beneath a wave of shapely young women wearing nothing but Day-glo thongs and euphoric smiles.

(Final note — Katerina and I have set a date for our wedding (hopefully before she starts to show — my parents are rather old fashioned) and Senator X has promised to give away the bride. The overall consensus, from the Senator's office, on my paper was positive and he found a good paying job for me that started a week after I submitted it to his office for approval. Cat helped me with the final edits but I never submitted my thesis to committee: given the choice of a Master's Degree or a position as a Congressional Aide. Senator X stated: "A new husband and father needs to feather his bed — and cash makes the best feathers."

For this new position all I have to do is observe the actions of the Senator's friends at parties, have Cat edit my report and submit it to him. He was right: Cat has got potential as a lobbiest.)