Chapter 10
The ballroom reverberated with the ear-splitting thunder of several thousand voices shouting in joy. Little white hats bobbed on the surface of the crowd like buoys scattered across a rough sea. The champagne had been opened, and was flowing freely while the band played until their lips and fingers were numb, and still played the victory tunes.
On the platform, between the podium and the gigantic "Kohn for Senate" banner at the back, Derek Kohn was just finishing his victory speech.
" ... will discover that the people of California will not be bribed, that the people of California cannot be bought off. . . "
His handsome bronze face glistened in the lights, sweating slightly from the heat and from the high pitch of emotion this election night. He gestured with his powerful arms, as though to gather the whole crowd into his embrace. Again he was interrupted with wild, cheering applause, and he waited with a broad grin to continue.
When he was finished, the band once more struck up the victory song, and the revelers sang along while they danced, while they fell into each other's ecstatic arms, while the foaming, spurting Champaign was passed from hand to hand until the bottle was empty, and another came along to replace it.
In the glare of the spotlights and the television light, and the flash of light bulbs, Derek stood with one hand raised high in a waving salute to his workers and supporters, the other hand around the waist of his beautiful wife, Becky. Her long, honey-colored hair shimmered in the brightness as it fell down across her shoulders to the fine, high slope of her breast. Her eyes shone, and the smile on her face matched her victor husband's as she looked out over the mass celebration that was just now getting into full swing.
Her dress glittered, brilliant sparkles of gold flashed from her with every shift in her tall, slender body, and she made no attempt to keep still. To those who could see behind the glittering, her tight dress revealed every detail of her ravishing, alluring anatomy. Her breasts stood out, two delicious mounds that jiggled and bobbed when she shifted her weight, and some people even thought they could make out tiny bumps where her nipples were.
The flashing material clung to her slim stomach and traced every curve of her swelling, tantalizing hips, and slid across the smooth skin when she moved them sensuously, the shadows from her hipbones playing across the flatness of her lower belly. And the full, smooth fullness of her thighs stretched the tight dress to wanton curves. She could feel a thousand eyes caressing her alluring, beautiful body, searching out her private parts and latching onto them as though to take them home. She didn't mind anymore, being a public figure. No one complained of the change.
"And now," the successful candidate was back at the microphone, a sly expression on his face. "Now I'm going to my room with the prettiest, nicest lady in the state." He indicated Becky with a wave of his hand, and she walked up to join him.
She leaned down to the microphone and added, "And we're going to celebrate."
The crowd exploded with uproarious cheering and applause, along with a fair number of hoots and whistles. The victorious couple turned to go, but before they got off the platform, Becky turned and dashed out from under his arm. She ran to the edge of the stage, her large breasts bouncing invitingly under her dress, slid down to the floor, causing the skirt of her dress to slide up her long, smooth thigh. Once on the floor, she dashed over and snatched an unopened bottle of champagne and dashed back to the platform, climbed up again, and, with a pause to wink at the crowd and raise her prize to show them, she rejoined her husband and they left the back of the stage.
The strain on the candidate began to show as soon as he was out of the lights, and by the time they reached the bedroom in their hotel suite, he was doing well to stay on his feet.
He slid his coat off his broad, exhausted shoulders, removed his shoes, and got his shirt half-way unbuttoned before he lay back on the bed "to catch his breath."
His luscious wife sat next to him, rubbing her hand over the thick fur on his chest while he closed his eyes, basking in the soothing massage, and in the relaxation.
"Congratulations, Senator," she said brightly.
He smiled. "Thank you," he replied dreamily.
Suddenly she remembered something she'd meant to ask him. "What color is Linda's pubic hair?"
"We'll invite her over some night and you can see," he said, drifting off.
"Tonight?" his excited wife asked. But he was already asleep. She sighed, her breasts heaving under her sparkling dress. She finished undressing him, and put him to bed, kissed him, and took just a moment for a long, loving gaze at his sleeping, tanned, handsome face against the white pillow before she headed for the door. If she was going to be going to those wild Washington parties as a Senator's wife, she'd better get some practice in. She wondered if the boys with the dirty movies would be interested in a live performance tonight.