Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  “No, go right ahead. I’ll get a beer and watch television for a bit.”

  When I entered the bathroom, I knew I should just take a quick shower, but as the water ran over me the bathtub called. I’d longed for a hot bath most of the day. With a glance at the door, I told myself a bath would only take a few minutes longer than a shower. But after I settled into the pooling water of the tub, I started to really relax. As soon as the water reached the right level, I turned it off and leaned back, closing my eyes. The next thing I knew, I heard Michael’s voice say, “Jessie, are you okay?”

  My body jerked as I came to, and my eyes sprang open to see Michael standing next to the tub. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

  “That’s what I thought when you didn’t come out after thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty minutes? I’m so sorry. That was really rude of me.”

  “Not rude. Just a little dangerous. Don’t sleep in the tub. You could drown.”

  “I know. I know.” I stretched my arms into the water and smiled. “I feel better, though.”

  “That’s good.” He stole a look at the water and suds covering my body. “You look better, too.”

  The bubbles were disappearing around me, and my naked body was exposed. I hadn’t been naked in front of him in a while. I knew we needed to talk. The healthy route was to clear the air between us and then have sex. I was naked though… I rolled my tongue coyly in my cheek. “Can you give me a towel?”

  “I’d rather not,” he said, raising a brow. “But I will.” He grabbed the nearest bath towel and held it up so he could wrap it around me. “Come here.”

  All the while knowing he was eyeing my body, I rose and stepped out of the tub. I stood before him with my arms raised as he took his time cloaking me. When he was finished, I draped my arms around his neck. “It’s good to see you again.”

  His blue eyes darkened as he said in a rough voice, “Yes, it is.”

  The mood was all sex in the tiny room, and how I wanted to have sex with him without another thought, but my better angels wouldn’t allow it. First, I had to know what sort of emotional catastrophe I might be setting myself up for. My stomach flipped as I posed the fateful question. “Michael, I have to know. While we’ve been apart… have you been with anyone else?”

  I held my breath waiting for his answer. He blinked twice. I’d clearly broadsided him, but then he gave me reassuring smile and shook his head. “No.” He placed both of his hands on my cheeks and said, “But because I don’t want any secrets between us, I’ll tell you I had the opportunity, but I couldn’t even kiss her.”

  I was sure the “her” was Cathy, but I really didn’t need confirmation. That seemed like a secondary question. Instead, I asked, “Why? Why couldn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “Because I’m hopelessly in love with you. Can’t you see it?”

  With that, his arms encircled me, and my heart and soul swooned. The towel landed on the floor in a matter of seconds. His kisses came fast and furious, and I responded by pressing my body to his. In no time, I felt his penis hard against me. Ignoring what my wet skin was going to do to his nice suit pants, I stood on my tip toes to position myself so I could feel him.

  Clothing apparently wasn’t on his mind either, because he gripped my rear to lift me closer. As we found our favorite rhythm to our mutual desire, he moved kisses from my lips to my neck and then down to my breasts. I lost myself once again with the man I loved. It took the shock of the cold marble against my bottom for me to realize that he’d placed me on the vanity. I pulled back to look at our position and smiled. “This should be fun.”

  Michael snickered and began unzipping his pants. “I’ll say.”

  I responded by widening my legs to watch, and we found each other once again. Time didn’t matter as we whispered and groaned everything we felt. We weren’t looking each other in the eyes, though, because his were elsewhere.

  “You like it like this?” he asked, watching himself slide in and out of me.

  “Yes,” I said with a gasp. “You like what you see?”

  “Hell, yes. Do you?”

  “I do. It’s hot, isn’t it?”

  He whispered in my ear, “You’ve got the prettiest pussy. Touch yourself for me.”

  Holy crap. I’d missed my dirty-talking Republican, and I did as I was told. My body had already been tightening, but that made me clench. He continued with the dirty talk, which made my orgasm come on fast and hard. He followed soon after, panting into my shoulder. When I’d collected myself a bit, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was fun, but I think I made a mess of your suit.”

  “I could give a damn,” he replied, still catching his breath. When he pulled away and looked at me, he wore a smile, but his eyes were soft. “Can you tell how much I’ve missed you?”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Our shared honesty was touching, and my eyes become misty. “Don’t leave tonight. Please stay.”

  “There’s no place else I want to be,” he said as he kissed my hair. “I love you.”

  I leaned my head back, enjoying the sweet attention, and as he continued to cover me with kisses, I sensed that they were becoming less sweet and more sensual. Before he kissed my breasts again, I said in a soft whisper, “I love you, Michael.”

  “And I, you,” he said, raising his head to hold my gaze. “Forever.”

  ~~~

  The night continued with more love—physical, emotional, and verbal, and though I slept like a baby in his arms, worries of the upcoming vote nagged me to wake. I lay in bed happy to be back with Michael, but anxious that one thing was still unresolved. Closing my eyes, I thought about my choices. I could choose to be happy or anxious. Lying with the man I loved, I chose to be happy.

  Waiting a few seconds, I confirmed I could live with my decision. I then turned to Michael. “Babe,” I said. “I need to get up.”

  Visibly only half-asleep, he groaned, “But I don’t want you to.”

  “I have to.”

  “I know.”

  As his eyes flickered open, I touched the hair around his temple. “We need to talk.”

  “I suppose we do.” He answered with some reluctance.

  “It’ll be short.” The clarity I’d found put me at ease, and there was a warm confidence in my voice. “I love you. Just do what you need to do. Say what you need to say and vote however you want to. I’ll still love you and want to see you right back here tonight.”

  He smiled in silence and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he announced, “You’re an incredible woman. I love you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Michael

  Later that afternoon, I searched the capitol building, looking for the majority whip, Congressman Alex Monroe. I nodded to the capitol police officer outside the door of the Republican cloakroom. “Afternoon, Chris.”

  “Afternoon, Congressman Grath. Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Congressman Monroe.”

  “He’s inside. It’s a busy day around here, isn’t it?”

  “Too busy. Thanks, Chris.”

  I entered the room that had no cloaks, despite its name. Democrats and Republicans on both the House and Senate side had rooms with the same antiquated, but charming names that clouded what really went on in them. The four rooms served as each party’s information nerve center for everything that was happening on the House and Senate floors and as a place where party members could talk before and after votes.

  As I entered the room, I spotted the majority whip in an intense conversation with a senior congresswoman. I waved my hand to signal I too wanted to speak.

  Monroe nodded, said a few more words to the congresswoman, patted her shoulder, and joined me. “Good to see you. I don’t have a lot of time. What’s up?”

  My voice was steady and firm as I made the practiced, equivocal lines I’d chosen to explain myself. “I’m sorry to bother you, Alex, but I can’t help out with that Planned Parenthood
amendment today.”

  Monroe’s lip curled in annoyance. “Don’t tell me they’ve gotten to you, too. It seems like every Republican in a moderate district has come begging to me today.”

  “If you mean that I’m hearing a lot from back in my district, the answer is yes.”

  “Are you changing your vote?”

  I was silent for a moment. It had been stupid of me to think I wouldn’t be put on the spot so directly. Though Jessie had given me the freedom to vote and do as I pleased, I was now uneasy—like now my decision was truly my choice, and I must stand by it as my own just as she stood by hers. I replied only with a shrug. “I can’t be too visible on this amendment.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t believe me, and I dreaded the follow-up question demanding a clear answer about my vote. Lucky for me, Alex had over two hundred Republican members to whip on twenty votes that day. Alex just shook his head as if he didn’t have time to bother with me. “Fine. We’ve got more than enough people to speak on that amendment anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  As I turned to walk away, Alex said, “Wait. You’re not entirely off the hook.”

  “What else you do you need?”

  “Dillon has food poisoning. Go take over the gavel from him.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as this day takes.”

  I smiled, though happiness was not what I was feeling. “Thanks.”

  Alex gave me a pat on the shoulder and in a stern tone said, “Go get to work.”

  As he walked away, I turned and made my way to the chair of the Speaker of the House. I quickly texted Jeff to tell him how I was screwed. Unlike other legislative bodies in the world, the speaker in the United States House of Representatives rarely performed the actual job of wielding the gavel and managing an orderly debate. Unless it was a debate of the utmost importance, the speaker duties were rotated among members of the majority party, often landing in the lap of freshman lawmakers. It was said to be a way for them to learn the rules of the House floor. In my case, it felt like punishment.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I stood high on the speaker’s dais, calling the House to order, informing members of their allotted time, announcing the start, end, and results of votes, and occasionally issuing a judgment call as to fairness and decorum of the debate. When Jessie noticed me in the speaker’s spot, I watched as her eyes widened, recognizing what it meant for me to be speaker that day.

  Our eyes met, and I smiled, thinking of our time in her bathroom the night before. That was hot. She must’ve been thinking of it as well because she grinned, blushed, and covered her mouth and turned away. After that, each time she entered the chamber she’d catch my eye and smile. I got the sense that rather than being upset over my being in the speaker’s chair during the debate over her amendment, she found my predicament amusing. I loved her even more for it.

  When it was time for the amendment to reinstate funding for Planned Parenthood, I dealt with Jessie just as I would any legislator. The chamber was loud with the many heated conversations that took place after a vote. Hitting the gavel on the desk a few times, I called for order so she could speak. She took to the podium on the Democrats’ side of the chamber and declared, “Mr. Speaker, I have an amendment at the desk.”

  I nodded and ordered, “The Clerk will designate the amendment.”

  After the Clerk of the House read the amendment aloud, I announced, “Pursuant to House Resolution 406, the gentlelady from Arizona and a member opposed will each control thirty minutes.”

  I looked at Jessie with no hint of the genuine support I felt at that moment. “The chair recognizes the gentlewoman from Arizona.”

  Jessie nodded. “Thank you. Mr. Speaker, I rise today in support of funding Planned Parenthood to continue to provide preventative health care to low income women…”

  For over an hour, I adjudicated the debate on the amendment. The members of Congress who spoke for and against the amendment were wildly passionate in their speeches, but I stayed unemotional and impartial as I ensured the debate proceedings were smooth and on time. Even when Jessie spoke from the heart, tactfully alluding to her abortion after a date rape, I was stoic. So was she. It was impressive. Though she’d spoken so personally, the debate really wasn’t about her or abortion.

  As I sat in the speaker’s chair, I did the hard work of listening to every word. The task required me to pay intense attention to the various speakers, which was unusual. Usually, we were in our offices in meetings or at committee hearings or off at fundraising lunches during these debates. We only knew we’d soon be called to vote on yet another amendment we most likely hadn’t spent too much thought on and certainly never read. But today I followed every word of the debate intimately.

  As I listened to the arguments, something happened that occasionally occurred when you sat in the speaker’s chair—I formed a new position on the issue. My mother’s words rang in my head, and I realized she was right, though she wouldn’t like what it had led me to do.

  When the hour had passed, I declared, “The question is on the resolution.”

  The fiery debate caused an eruption of yelling and jeers of “aye” and “nay.” As required by my party, I didn’t attempt to discern which side was louder. Instead, I simply sided with the Republicans. “It appears they ‘nays’ have it.”

  Jessie’s hands gripped the podium and said in perfect parliamentary speak, “Mr. Speaker, I demand a recorded vote.”

  I nodded and said, “This will be a ten minute vote.” I ended with a bang of the gavel. Searching my pocket, I found my electronic voting card. I swiped it, and then talked to the clerk to pass the time until the vote was over.

  Occasionally, I’d look up at the electronic board showing the status of the vote. I leaned against the speaker’s chair as I saw the expected results—Jessie’s amendment was headed to a respectable defeat.

  I glanced over to her as she talked with Gary Martin. Her eyes would occasionally look up to the board, but the smile never left her face. I was impressed. Though she always knew she would lose the vote, the results had to hurt. Yet, she stood smiling and engaged in conversation with a member of the opposition. Jessie was a happy warrior. When she finished talking with Gary, I caught her eye before glancing down at my phone to type a text to her.

  I love you.

  I stared at my phone and got a quick response from her.

  I love you, too.

  ~~~

  When I finally left the House floor that night, the call from Jeff was immediate. It wasn’t the usual “hello,” but instead a throaty chuckle.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “That doesn’t matter,” said Jeff. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I don’t know… I listened to the debate, and then I remembered a conversation I had with my mom about it.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she didn’t like Planned Parenthood, but defunding it had a lot of unintended consequences. She was right. While I was listening to the debate I realized there’s no other provider to deal with health care for those women, and most likely without access to contraception, there will only be more abortions. When Alex Monroe came by to scold me, I just told him I listened to the debate and thought defunding Planned Parenthood was based on good intentions, but with bad consequences.”

  “That’s a good line because we need to start returning press calls right now. I’ve been putting them off until I could talk to you. The phone lines are also going nuts, but it’s so late they’re all in voicemail. We’ll deal with the backlash tomorrow.” Jeff then laughed. “Of course, more than half of those calls are going to be people thanking you. You should feel good about that.”

  “Honestly, I don’t feel good. I just feel right. Do you get what I mean?”

  “Yup. I understand.”

  “So what do you want me to say?”

  “How’s this for your statement? ‘The amendmen
t to defund Planned Parenthood was based on good intentions, but with bad consequences. I remain ardently pro-life.’ Then leave it at that.”

  “Sounds fine to me.” I smiled in relief.

  ~~~

  Within the hour, I was back at Jessie’s door. She let me in, her face beaming. As she closed the door, she said, “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “What?”

  “You know what. Change your vote.”

  “Ah, that.” I leaned down and kissed her. “No big deal.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jessie

  It wasn’t long after the vote that I first noticed Michael’s questions. Each one began as a simple inquiry about my experiences or likes or dislikes, but soon evolved into a probe of my life’s plans. A few times before the vote, our conversations had danced around the possibility of a future together. He’d been married before, and I knew he was hesitant. His questions had to be the result of worries about our future that nipped at him. After the vote, I’d lost all my worries. I was sure we could weather anything. But I played along when he’d ask. I’d answer, watching him nod as if my reply needed to be mulled over. I tried not to laugh.

  Occasionally, the questions led to talks about issues that would be obvious deal-breakers for any relationship. One day, after coming home from a fundraiser, I complained that my feet hurt from wearing heels. Michael raised his eyebrows. “Are you getting tired of it?”

  “Tired of what?” I asked, kicking off my shoes.

  “Tired of the racket of being in the House?”

  “Are you crazy? I just got here. No way. Every job has its downsides.”

  “So do you want to be one of those who die in office?”

  “Of course not.” I laughed. “Why? Do you?”

  He shook his head. “No. At least not in this office.”

  I shrugged and looked down for a moment, knowing I was about to raise a hot button issue. “Besides… I want to have kids. I know I can do it while I’m in office, but I’d prefer not to be traveling across the country a couple of times a month. There are lots of good jobs I could have and not travel so much.”