Weapons of Mass Seduction

Gillian McMahon was freezing, but nothing was going to stop her from marching.

It was February 15, 2003, the day of a massive demonstration in New York City to protest America's march to war in Iraq. Wearing a grey knit cap and a heavy black coat, Gillian joined thousands who sang and shouted while holding signs declaring, "No to Bush's War," "Our Lives Are Not For Sale," "Not In Our Name" and "We Shouldn't Have to Fight for Peace." Gillian smiled when she saw a sign featuring an upside-down photo of President George W. Bush next to the words, "Somewhere in Texas, a Village is Missing an Idiot."

Suddenly, Gillian's eyes fell upon a very handsome African-American man in the crowd wearing a navy blue coat, black jacket, white shirt and blue tie. He wasn't singing or chanting. Instead, he quietly held a sign featuring a photo of Marvin Gaye next to his famous words: "War is Not the Answer."

Gillian found herself drawn to this man, and very carefully maneuvered herself over to where he walked. She touched him lightly on the shoulder and gave him a smile.

"I like your sign!"

"Thanks," the man replied. "Yours is pretty cool, too."

"Thank you," Gillian said. She looked down at her sign, with the words written in white on a black background: "How Many Gallons of Blood for How Many Gallons of Oil?"

For a brief moment, Gillian didn't know what to say to this gorgeous man. He seemed so quiet, so humble. Who was this guy?

"I think you're the only guy here wearing a suit and tie!"

The man smiled. "I didn't have time to go back to my apartment to change!"

"Wow," Gillian replied. "Well, dressed like that, they can't call you some kind of radical!"

"Well, they might call me something worse!"

"Yeah," Gillian sighed. "Hey, do you mind if I stick with you the rest of the way?"

"Don't mind at all."

Gillian couldn't take her eyes off this man; he seemed so broken-hearted, so wounded, yet so beautiful. There was something fascinating about this man, something she wanted-needed-to learn about him.

As the rally wound down, Gillian reached out and touched the exposed skin between the man's coat and his glove. His skin was silky smooth, and the sensation gave her a quick thrill.

"Hey, I'm going to get something to eat before I go home. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure."

"My name's Gillian."

The man smiled. "My name's Brandon."

--

"You know, I'm not surprised," Brandon smiled, in between bites of white rice. "I figured you were either an actress or a model."

"Why is that?" Gillian replied.

"Well, you just have...you just have this sort of glamour about you."

"I could say the same about you!" winked Gillian as she twirled her lo mein.

"I don't know about that," Brandon responded, as they both laughed.

Gillian couldn't help staring at Brandon's soulful brown eyes. This is the warmest man I've ever met, she thought.

"Do you mind if I ask you for an autograph before you become famous?"

"You've got to be joking me."

"I bet you within ten years you'll be bigger than Nicole and Cate combined."

"I wish...if I could only get called back for something bigger than these fucking candy bar commericals..."

"Hey, don't knock a good candy bar."

Gillian chuckled.

"You know, I was roommates with an Aussie guy when I went to NYU."

"Really?"

"Yeah, his name was Graeme...Graeme Thornton. A real nice guy. He was from Melbourne, though, not Sydney. Everything I know about Aussie culture comes from him."

"I knew you had to know something, because you immediately knew what NIDA was."

"Yeah...I'm telling you, I bet you'll be their most famous graduate one day."

"Decades from now, I'm sure."

"Hey, don't be so negative!"

Gillian winked at Brandon again. "You know, I think I should be asking you for your autograph, Mr. Law School Hotshot! They'll probably put you on the Supreme Court one day."

"Yeah, we'll see about that."

"Well, I wouldn't bet against you."

"Thanks. I love to sue the bastards who are getting us into this war, though."

"You think it's gonna happen?"

"I think so...I hate to say it, but I think they're gonna go full steam ahead."

"Really! I don't think they can ignore these people, all around the world. I mean, they're still talking tough-our Prime Minister says he's sticking with Bush and Blair-but they have to back down with the world saying no, don't they?"

"I'd love for it to be the case, but I don't see it happening."

Gillian sighed. "You might be right."

"You know what really embarrasses me?"

"What's that?"

Brandon lowered his head. "I actually voted for that guy."

"What? Bush?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God! Wow."

"I know, I know."

"I've got to ask, what were you thinking? I'm sorry, I'm a Labor girl-our whole family is Labor-so I'm trying to get my head about this one..."

"Well...I thought he was a moderate. I really liked his dad-I thought he'd be just like his dad..." Brandon sighed regretfully. "I guess I thought wrong."

He stopped eating and bowed his head. "I can't help thinking about all the people that are going to die because of this war...I feel like I'm...like I'm responsible somehow...like I gave him the gun and now he's gonna pull the trigger...I can't stand it. I really can't stand it. I'm so sorry, man..."

Gillian reached out her hand to his. "Look, at least you're trying to make it right. It took a lot of courage for you to show up today. Not a lot of people would have done that. They would have stayed away in shame."

Brandon sighed again. "I guess you're right. I just...I don't know."

"Listen," Gillian whispered. "You're not the first person to make a mistake at the voting booth."

"I know, I know...it's just that...look, when I was growing up, I knew a lot of people whose dads and brothers came back from Vietnam. They were never the same, in the body or in the head. And it's like...the whole thing's gonna happen again, and I helped to cause it..."

"No, no...you helped to fight it!"

"OK...I guess you're right."

"Some of my family went to Vietnam, too-they never came back the same...that's why I have to believe we can stop this war. All of us-I really believe we can do it. We can force them to listen."

"I certainly hope you're right. I just wish I was that optimistic."

Gillian and Brandon finished their dinner and walked down Lexington Avenue. They quietly embraced before heading their separate ways, and Gillian gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. Then she paused, and kissed him a second time.

-

Gillian could not stop thinking about Brandon, and the two soon found themselves talking briefly on the phone every day, occasionally stopping by each other's apartments as time permitted. As the country marched inexorably towards war, it seemed that they were giving each other as much peace as possible.

Gillian knew that it would only be a matter of time before she would give herself to him. She dreamed every night about what it would be like to have their bodies naked together, how it would feel to have his beautiful black hands caress her long, honey-blonde hair, how exhilarating it would be to have his black cock in her mouth, then her pussy, then her ass. She had an extreme desire for him, and she knew that life was much too short to wait, especially as conflict loomed.

It was Friday night, March 14, when Gillian made her move. She invited Brandon over to read an op-ed she had written about her embarrassment, as an Australian citizen, over her government's support of Bush's plans to strike Iraq. Brandon loved the op-ed overall, but made a number of suggested revisions; they worked on the op-ed until 11:00pm that evening, before finally e-mailing the op-ed to the New York Times.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Well, I guess I should be going."

"Why? You can stay over. You shouldn't be out on the street this late at night."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. You don't mind sleeping on the couch, do you?"

"Not at all."

Gillian smiled. "OK. Just let me change into my pajamas..."

She quickly removed her sweatshirt, and Brandon's eyes expanded to take in her pale, lusciously curved upper body, her nipples barely obscured by a light blue bra.

"Oh my..."

Gillian unzipped her jeans, and Brandon exhaled at the sight of her magnificent legs. His arousal quickly became visible, and she moved as close to him as possible.

"Did I ever tell you I mean to bring another sign that day?" she whispered.

"No," he replied.

"Yeah," she cooed, kissing him on his full lips. "Do you know what it would have said?"

"I don't know."

She removed her bra, and his body vibrated with delight at the vision of her erect pink nipples.

"Make love, not war."