Chapter 12
The school insisted that Wanda take a couple of days off for the close of the campaign. She and Art spent fourteen hours a day in the ward knocking on doors and talking to people.
Others who believed as she did worked almost as tirelessly so that Wanda's campaign developed a magnificent finishing kick.
The night before the election, there were seven of them in Wanda's campaign office. The last of the printed material had been distributed, posters that had been torn down were replaced and, as they compared notes, it seemed that every potential voter in the ward had been talked to at least once, but more likely two or three times.
"One thing is sure," Wanda pointed out as she kicked her shoes off under the desk and wriggled her toes in search of relief, "we gave it everything we have. I don't know how to begin thanking all of you."
There was general agreement among the group that no thanks were necessary. A twenty year old woman, one of Wanda's students seemed to sum it up for the others.
"You talk of thanking us, Wanda, but you have things reversed. You put everything including your health and your reputation on the line to fight for a lot of people who just don't give a damn.
"If you win, you become part of a minority on a council where you'll be resented for trying to upset the nice comfortable status quo. Because we helped you, you want to thank us? If we really wanted to do you a favor, we'd have asked those people out there not to vote for you."
For a moment, there was silence, then nervous laughter as others decided she had really spoken their thoughts.
"Maybe I'm a masochist, Doris," Wanda joined in the laughter. "Anyway, I do thank you all."
The knock that sounded on the office door seemed perfectly timed. Art hurried to open it and flashed Wanda an enigmatic smile as he passed.
A man in a hotel waiter's uniform walked into the room carrying a pair of ice buckets from which bottles of champagne poked their necks out. Setting them down beside the desk, he went outside and brought in two more.
"I get the impression that there's supposed to be some kind of celebration," Wanda observed.
"It must have been delivered to the wrong address," Art suggested without a trace of a smile, "but we may as well use it up. Let's have a party."
"A party?" someone asked. "With all that bubbly for seven people it sounds more like an orgy."
"Great thinking," Art enthused as he popped the first cork and spilled the wine into one of the glasses the waiter had provided. "We can call the papers and have a photographer here in five minutes. The candidate gets page one on election morning."
It set the tone for what turned out to be a sparkling party. As if all were as dedicated to finishing off the champagne as they had been to finishing the campaign, they stuck with it until the last bottle had been emptied.
The tension that had been with them at the beginning had been drowned in champagne long ago. Anyone looking in on the group could have been excused for thinking that the election was over and the candidate had swept the polls.
Art tried to lure the group to a restaurant for steaks, but there were no takers. When a few wavered, one suggested that the candidate should get to bed and the others quickly followed the lead.
Five minutes later, Wanda and Art waved good-bye to the last of their friends and started back to her apartment.
"How does my darling the candidate feel right now?" Art asked as he slid behind the wheel.
"I feel so many things, darling," she answered with a sleepy smile. "Mostly tired, I guess, but there are other things too."
"Things like what?" he asked as he moved the car out into the traffic lane.
"Things like full of love for my wonderful man, a positive knowledge that I've done my best no matter what happens now, a warm sense of having some very good friends. All in all, I'd say I feel pretty darn good right now."
"Not too tired?" he glanced toward her.
"If you're thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking, you lovely dirty old man," she laughed, "I'm definitely not too tired. Unless," she amended, "you're thinking of something that involves my standing."
"What I have in mind for you, wife to be, depends on my standing, one way or another, but it doesn't involve anybody's feet."
Wanda snuggled a little closer to him and felt the warmth of love fining her.
"Let's not have any accidents, dear," she spoke softly, "but let's hurry home. I want to start concentrating on the most important campaign of my life."
"You're already elected, lady, but go ahead and campaign anyway. That's the kind of politicking I can really go for. What kind of bribes are you offering?"
They had just pulled up at a red light and Wanda checked to ensure that there was no car beside them. With an excited smile, she pulled her dress and slip high above the top of her nylon so that her thigh glowed white in the subdued light from the dash.
"Will that do to influence your vote, sir?" she asked.
"It will influence a hell of a lot more than that, lady," Art answered huskily as his hand reached to stroke the firm, silken skin.
"You're getting the green light, driver," Wanda observed quietly.
"You mean right here in the car?" he gasped in pretended horror.
"No, silly," she laughed, "I mean that traffic light out there on the pole. Why are you wasting time, afraid to get home with me or something?"
He squeezed her thigh hard and stepped on the gas. The car shot ahead with a squeal of tortured rubber.
"If you're going to drive that way, you'll need two hands on the wheel, you sex maniac," she pretended to be serious.
"Out of the question," he replied. "The hand on the wheel is for steering, this one," he squeezed the warm bare thigh again, "is for inspiration."
"Well," she conceded, "as long as the one on the wheel is steady, I must say I like your brand of inspiration."
Just before they reached her apartment building, they had to make another stop for a light.
"Love those red lights," Art observed with enthusiasm as his hand moved to the inside of her thigh and slid upward to find that she was very warm indeed.
"They just don't last long enough," Wanda protested as she pulled her dress down so that she would be ready to get out of the car as Art turned down the ramp into the basement garage.
Although both were anxious to get up to the apartment, they took time for one more kiss before they left the car. They managed another long one when they found themselves alone in the elevator.
"Some elevator," Art grumbled as it stopped at her floor. "There should be a couch in it."
"Going up?" Wanda arched an eyebrow as she asked the question.
He leered and spanked her playfully then pushed her toward the opening door.
They held hands as they hurried down the hall. Wanda let go of his hand reluctantly and fished her key out of her coat pocket. Inside, she flicked on the light and sighed. Her apartment had never looked so good to her.
Art took her in his arms then and the place became even better.
"Art, darling," Wanda looked intense, "this may sound silly, but I'd love to have a bath before we go to bed. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not if you'll let me help, I don't." He took her coat from her and threw it over the back of a chair. His jacket followed and landed on top.
"How do you like that?" he grimaced. "Our coats beat us to it."
"Not by very much, darling," Wanda hurried down the hall to start the bath running. "And besides, they don't have as much fun as we do."
"I don't know about that," he called after her, "take a look at them when you get back here."
Turning the taps on, Wanda ran back to see what he was talking about.
When she saw the sleeve of his jacket sticking in the pocket of her coat, Wanda broke up.
"It must be the influence of the place," she laughed. "I'll have you know my coat never acted like that before."
"Are you sure?" he looked disbelieving.
"Check the label," she turned it toward him with a grand gesture. "See what it says? One hundred percent virgin wool."
"Ouch," she squealed as she hurried down the hall with Art making threatening gestures as he followed close behind.
Despite his threats, Art was very gentle as he helped Wanda out of her dress and draped it carefully over a towel bar.
Pushing her hands aside, he pulled her half slip down and helped her step out of it. He stopped her again when she reached to unfasten her suspenders.
"I'll do all the work around here tonight, darling," he told her as he had her sit on the hassock where the cool leather felt refreshing against the backs of her thighs.
Kneeling in front of her, he took his time about slipping each suspender tab free of the nylons. He rolled them down gently and held each foot in his left hand as he eased the warm nylon off.
"No, darling," she protested weakly, "I haven't bathed yet."
Ignoring her protests, he rubbed both her feet between his hands then drew them one at a time to his lips and kissed them with reverence.
After that, he removed her bra and gently massaged the very warm globes. One at a time, he took the tips between his lips and felt her instant arousal match his own.
He was especially gentle then as he helped her to her feet and pulled the brief panties down to reveal the warmth of her full body. He knelt and kissed her again. Although she protested again that she wasn't clean, he felt her body trembling under his lips and knew they would make very good love in a little while.
Just before she stepped into the tub, he removed her garter belt. As she settled back in the warm water and felt the physical tension draining away, Art undressed quickly. He threw his clothes aside as if he never wanted to see them again.
Kneeling beside the tub, he drew her naked upper body against his own and they kissed passionately for a long time.
After a while, he reached for the soap and began to work a rich, soothing lather over her. Wanda purred like a kitten under his exciting touch.
Although he didn't hurry and made sure that he had soaped and carefully rinsed every inch of her beautiful body, the bath seemed to end too quickly for both of them.
He managed to be both rough and gentle as he rubbed her body with the thick turkish towel until it glowed pink and gold and creamy white.
Bending then, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Kneeling beside her after placing her gently on the bed, Art stared at the vibrant beauty of her lovely body for a long time before he reached to pick up her thighs.
As he held them high and began to move them apart, the expression of ecstasy on her face assured him she knew what he was about to do and wanted him to do it to her.
His lips grazed over silken thighs and along the lower edges of the lush hemispheres. Just before pressing his lips to her, he whispered "I love you." She heard him and pushed her body to receive his kiss.
With his face locked to her, Art was barely aware that his body was being turned. He realized and understood when he felt her warm mouth close around him.
Locked together in the delightful fleshy confinement of love, they gave and took and the ultimate kiss of lovers, the kiss that could not end until the world shook and bright lights flashed for both of them.
It happened and after the waves stopped pounding on the shore, they moved so that he could take her into his arms. He was still holding her in his arms and their lips still moved in quiet sounds of love as they both drifted into the comfortable world of sleep.