Breach of Trust

43

The party went on another two hours. I drained several martinis and did the dreaded small-talk dance. Turned out, I knew some of the lawyers in the room, and a couple others knew of me from the Almundo trial. Greg Connolly stayed pretty close to me, which was sort of creepy. He’d promised me a meet with the governor when the place cleared out some, not that I had requested the meeting or even looked forward to it. In fact, I realized that I was probably the only person in the room who didn’t want to meet Carlton Snow. But Connolly seemed to think it was a tantalizing prospect and he kept sight of me as the night drew on, as if to reassure me.

Greg was trying to curry my favor. He really seemed to think that I was pulling the strings. I didn’t know enough about the players involved-Charlie included, who still, in many ways, remained a stranger to me-to know why Greg would think that, but I had been elevated to a prominent status in his mind.

I looked over the shoulder of one of the lawyers in our conversation circle and saw a woman standing with Connolly. I didn’t recognize her, but she caught my attention. Greg eagerly waved me over and I excused myself.

“Jason Kolarich, Madison Koehler. Maddie’s the governor’s chief of staff.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said to me.

I extended a hand. “All of it good, I hope.”

“All of it,” she said. Her hand was warm. Hot, in fact.

Madison Koehler was well-packaged in a form-fitting cocktail dress, bleached-blond hair, and a healthy dose of makeup. I put her at a little north of forty, but she was clearly doing the best she could to keep her age a mystery. Her eyes were large, brown, and predatory; there was a severity to her overall look that told me two things-she didn’t take any prisoners and she was good in bed. Take a photo of her and she wouldn’t win too many contests. But there was something about her up close and personal, a confident, aggressive style that oozed sensuality.

Or maybe it was just that I hadn’t been laid in a year. I was beginning to have romantic feelings for my mailbox.

“All of it,” she repeated, keeping her eyes on me. Well, then.

“Maddie here directs the traffic, I like to say.” Connolly was still talking. He kept on doing that and we both listened, but I was feeling something and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I hadn’t been with a woman since Talia. I hadn’t thought about a woman since Talia. I decided not to analyze it at all. I just listened to Greg Connolly sputter on about this woman’s resume while I followed the outline of that sequined cocktail dress and wondered what was under it. My eyes moved up until they made contact with hers. She didn’t react, save a small fluttering of her eyebrows. She was telling me that she didn’t mind the tour my eyes had taken.

“I told him I’d introduce him to Carl,” said Connolly.

“The governor,” she said. I took that as an admonishment for his informality. “Greg, I’d like a moment with Jason,” she said, her eyes squarely on me.

“Sure, sure.”

As Connolly excused himself, applause erupted again throughout the place. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t care why.

“The governor’s leaving,” Madison said to me. Over her shoulder, I could see Governor Snow waving to the crowd. But not out the main exit. An exit that led further into the hotel’s interior.

“Where to now?” I asked.

“We have a suite of rooms here. For more private discussions, away from the hordes.”

Our eyes remained on each other.

“I wasn’t talking about the governor,” I said.

Her expression eased ever so subtly. “Neither was I.”

I followed her through the room, fully charged, a loaded weapon. She said she wanted to use the ladies’ room and left me in the main lobby with about a hundred people and my imagination. The governor and his state police entourage were nowhere to be found. Most of the people were filtering out.

She took her time. I imagined the point was to let the crowd dissipate. When she came back, she made eye contact with me and headed toward the elevator. I followed her in. About a dozen other people did, too. Shoulder to shoulder. I found myself in a corner as the elevator abruptly lurched upward. Madison was standing directly in front of me, and with the lift of the elevator, her body moved backward into mine. Her hair was directly beneath my chin, hints of dark roots to her bleached hair. Her perfume was something expensive. I looked around the elevator. All eyes forward. Some small talk about the weather, Barack Obama’s surprise showing in the primaries thus far, the fundraiser tonight. But nary a word from my female companion or me. A certain part of my anatomy, standing at full attention, was thrust against the small of her back. She didn’t seem to mind. Neither did her hand, which had curled behind her back to, shall we say, grip the microphone.

Moses’s trek through the desert seemed like a sprint compared to this elevator ride. Every person on the elevator seemed to be getting off at different floors before us. I was bursting at the seams, and Madison wasn’t doing anything to lessen my anticipation. If she’d moved that hand any faster, in fact, I might not even have made it to the room. But she knew exactly what she was doing, grooming her new acquaintance just enough to keep everyone in the proper frame of mind without spoiling the surprise.

As the group dissipated, and things were more conspicuous, she cleared some space between us. She looked through her purse for something, biding time. I kept my eyes appropriately down-or inappropriately, because all I was doing was looking at that dress. About twenty different pornographic scenarios bombarded my imagination, as I stood stoically on that elevator. Positions and role plays and sweaty bodies slapping and silk sheets and hair tugging and legs in the air-

The room was a suite itself, with a spacious front room and then a bedroom. She’d done well enough so far, so I thought I would let her take the lead, at least for now. She closed the door behind her and placed her purse carefully on a small table.

She appraised me with those voracious amber eyes. Then she approached, placing her hands delicately on my jacket. “These silly costumes,” she said. She reached up and untied my bow tie.

“And I was so proud of how I tied that,” I said.

She pulled the tie off my neck and slipped it around hers. “Then tie it again,” she said.

So I did, best I could, anyway. I was having some trouble concentrating. She reached behind her and unzipped her dress. Before I’d put the finishing touches on the bow tie around her long, thin neck, her dress was at her ankles. A moment later her strapless bra and panties hit the carpet as well.

“We’ll need some privacy,” she said. I was only then aware of the window in the room, looking out over nothing but another hotel a couple blocks away. I watched her walk to the window, wearing nothing but high heels and the bow tie. She slowly pulled the curtains closed. Maybe a lucky someone got a nice peek. I was pretty sure that thought had crossed her mind.

Then she slowly walked back toward me, taunting me with each careful step of those high heels. She took my hand and led me into the bedroom. It was a queen-size bed, I thought, but it could have been a dirty tarp for all I cared. She put a knee on the bed, then another, and crawled to the center of the bed.

Still in the position, on her hands and knees, she looked back over her shoulder at me.

Maybe these fundraisers weren’t so bad, after all.