Party Lines

by Fiona Wilde

  “Alright,” the driver said, his accent heavy. “But meter is running.”

  Ron rolled his eyes. “You let me worry about that,” he said.

  ***

  “You’re the last person I expected to see today.” Clara Faircloth sat down on her sofa across from Ron Sharp. He was looking nervous and holding the teacup she’d given him balanced on one knee of his long leg. “I figured you’d be with Lindsay.”

  “Why did you figure that?” He tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “I know about the relationship. Lindsay told me the day the article came out. At the time, of course, she thought you were the one who’d gone to the Times with the information about her. She blamed herself for hurting me by getting involved with you. She even tried to quit on me, but I wouldn’t let her. I told her I wasn’t going to let her end her career because of something some man did to her.”

  “I didn’t do it.” Ron said.

  Clara looked at him, her expression serious and intense. “I hope you’re being honest with me, Mr. Sharp,” she said. “And it’s not because I’m concerned about the politics. I’m concern at this moment is for Lindsay. She – well, we – both believe you didn’t do this. But I need to hear it from you. I need to look into your eyes when you tell me that you didn’t betray her like that.”

  Ron put his cup down and leaned forward, locking eyes with Clara Faircloth. “Ms. Faircloth, I did not do this. I would not have done it. And if I’d have known it was going to happen I would have done everything in my power to stop it.” He paused. “This isn’t some fling I’m having with Lindsay. I love her.”

  For a moment the only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock. Then Clara smiled and nodded.

  “I believe you,” she said. “And I’m glad, for both you and Lindsay. It’s a fine thing to find love, and the two of you will no doubt have an interesting life, given your differences. After all, who wants to spend their life with someone who always agrees with them?”

  Ron exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Getting absolution from Clara Faircloth had been important to him, especially now that the veil of political ambition had been lifted enough for him to see who she really was. Despite her liberal views on things, she was honest, caring and fair – all the things Hopkins was not.

  “Where is she, Clara?” He looked at her with near desperation. “I need to see her.”

  “She’s taking some time to herself,” Clara replied. “She asked me to tell you that if you inquired.”

  He stood from his chair. “I don’t want to wait,” he said. “I need to see her now. Please.” He smiled a sad smile. “I’m a desperate man, Ms. Faircloth.”

  Clara walked over and looked out the window.

  “It’s so nice today,” she said. “If I had the day off I’d go to the lake and stay at my cabin. It’s quite secluded, standing there on the rocky shore amid those towering firs. A good place to think. A good place to reconnect.”

  Ron smiled. He didn’t thank Clara. That would come later, when he returned here with the woman he loved.

  ***

  134 Cedar Way was indeed a secluded location. Clara’s cabin sat tucked back on what would have been a busy cul-de-sac had she not had the foresight to buy up every lot on the street back before the lake became a popular and exclusive resort. Now the cabin sat back off a side road quite by itself.

  The private boat slip in the back was home to one watercraft – a green canoe. It was in that boat that Lindsay had spent most of the late morning, looking out over the glassy surface of the lake as she enjoyed the soothing rocking motion of the small waves that lapped the shoreline.

  She’d needed this, she told herself. In fact, this was really all she needed when she got down to it. A man in her life would be nice, but there were just so many complications. She really didn’t have time for a relationship. And besides, now that she’d had a taste of what it was like to be a dominant man, she didn’t think anything else – or anyone else – would satisfy her the way Ron had in such a short time.

  Lindsay rowed the canoe back over the dock and turned it backwards to guide it to the piling. After a few hours on the water, she looked forward to sitting on the cabin’s big screened in back porch and watching the sun shift over the lake.

  She climbed out of the canoe and dropped a loop of rope over the piling to secure the craft.

  “Thanks,” she said to the canoe. “I needed that.”

  “Talking to inanimate objects is a sure sign of loneliness.” Ron was standing at the edge of the dock, hands in his pockets. A small smile played on his lips. “I’ve come to remedy the problem.”

  They regarded each other in silence for a moment.

  “How did you find me? Did you bribe someone again?”

  “Not everyone needs to be bribed,” Ron said. “Sometimes people give up information because they know it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Clara.” Lindsay shook her head.

  “She loves you, Lindsay. And she wants what’s best for you. If she didn’t think I was what you needed do you really think she would have told me where you’d gone?”

  Lindsay sighed. It was a good point.

  “Would you like to go inside?” she asked. “To talk. Just to talk. No promises of anything else.”

  “I wasn’t expecting anything else,” he said. “To just talk to you is more than I can even expect given what you’ve been through.”

  Lindsay turned, and tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, began walking up the pier and towards the cabin. Ron followed in silence, praying for the right words to come to him, praying for Lindsay to understand that he had nothing to do with her outing by the Times.

  Inside the cabin, she walked to the kitchen and put on a pot of water for tea.

  “You can sit down,” she said to Ron, indicating the nearby table.

  Ron walked to the table, but before he could sit down he turned. “I didn’t do it, Lindsay. You have to believe me.”

  “I do believe you,” she said sadly, but when he rushed to Lindsay to take her in his arms, she stepped back.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, then felt stupid for asking. “Wait, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t rush you. You’ve been through a lot..”

  “It’s not that,” she said sadly. “It’s just that…”

  “What?” His arms ached to hold her, to ease her fears.

  “I’m scared Ron,” she said. “There’s no two ways to put it.” Behind her, as if emphasizing that fear, the teakettle began to scream. Lindsay turned around and pulled it from the burner. She’d already placed tea bags in two cups and now poured the water in to steep them.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said gently. “Not now. They can’t hurt you anymore. And you have no reason to be afraid of me.”

  Lindsay shook her head. “I’m not afraid of Hopkins or his tricks or he media. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of myself. When I first allowed myself to feel – to live – my submission it was an intensely liberating feeling. But then after all that stuff happened with the story I realized how trusting I had been, and how vulnerable a woman leaves herself when she puts herself wholly in the hands of another.”

  “But I didn’t do it,” Ron protested.

  “It doesn’t matter, Ron. Don’t you understand that? No, you didn’t do it. But you could have. It would have been so easy because I’d exposed myself so willingly.” She ran a finger around the rim of her teacup. “I can’t help but think that it might be unhealthy after all.”

  “Did you feel unhealthy when we were together sharing the dynamic that we shared?”

  Lindsay smiled at the memory.

  “No,” she said with a sigh. “I felt whole.”

  Then she interrupted him when he moved to affirm the statement. “But just because something feels right at the moment or pleasant doesn’t mean it’s a wise choice, Ron. I mean, drugs make you feel good. But th
ey can also ruin your life.”

  He stood there, looking at her. “Is that what you really think, Lindsay? That living in a dominant/submissive relationship with me would ruin your life?”

  “I just think it could be potentially dangerous.”

  “Sure, if you went and gave your submission to just any man. Because you’re right; there are men out there who would be more than willing to accept it and leave you broken and cynical. But Lindsay, I am not one of those men. I realize how what an incredible gift submission is because I’m a dominant man – and by dominant man I don’t mean someone who’s looking for some little bootlicking female, but a real man who knows a smart, capable woman who gives something like that to man is paying him the highest honor there is.”

  He looked down at his tea and shook his head in regret. “I know that I probably gave you reasons to doubt whether I was that kind of man by working for Hopkins. But you should know that the real reason I quit today in the manner I did wasn’t just because I wanted to punish him for what he did to you, but because I wanted to be worthy to come here and say what I want to say.”

  Lindsay felt a lump in her throat. “What did you want to say?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “That I love you,” he said. “That I love you body and soul, and I want to devote the rest of my life to cherishing you. To guiding you. To protecting you.”

  Lindsay shook her head. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want you to marry me,” he said. “And don’t think I’m crazy. I know you are what I want. And Lindsay, I know you want me too.” He stood and dropped down to one knee. “Say yes, Lindsay. Say yes and I promise to spend every day of the rest of my life proving myself to be the kind of man, husband and leader you preserve.”

  Lindsay opened her mouth to speak but no words would come for a moment. But finally she found her voice.

  “So this is what it feels like?” she said. “For those princesses of old when the knights came to claim them. I always wondered how they felt, locked in the tower and waiting. I always wondered what it would be like to finally see him there, and know…”

  Lindsay fell into his arms and they kissed, deeply and ardently.

  “This is crazy,” she said when their lips parted. Lindsay was laughing and crying by turns. “I was ready to move on, Ron. I didn’t think we could…”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “You knew we could work.”

  He picked her up. “And you know what? For even entertaining those kind of doubts, you deserved to be punished.”

  She looked at him, her eyes teasing. “Well,” she said. “If you think you’re man enough for the job, then have at it.”

  The bedroom was down the hall and to the left. Ron sat down on the bed and cradled Lindsay in his lap for a moment before guiding her over his lap. She lifted her hips so he could reach underneath and undo her jeans; she shivered with anticipation as he slid them down. The panties followed, and Ron felt himself becoming aroused as her bottom was revealed.

  He ran his hands over the smooth, flawless surface of her firm upturned cheeks and squeezed he springy flesh of each one. The first blow was light, almost playful. The second was harder and elicited a little moan from Lindsay, whose hands clutched the coverlet of the bed. As she writhed provocatively on his lap, Ron increased the tempo and force of the spanks until Lindsay was on the edge of losing control.

  Then he stopped and rubbed the heated surface of skin which had been cool to the touch moments before.

  “Lindsay Martin,” he said. “Do you promise to love and obey me from this day forth?”

  “What is this?” she asked, laughing.

  “Practice for our wedding vows,” he said. His voice had grown serious. “Do you?”

  He landed another spank on her bottom, this one harder than any of the others. Lindsay let out a little cry that ended in a whimpering, submissive, “Yes.”

  Then, in a small voice she asked him a question of her own. “Do you, Ron Sharp, promise to love me, to protect me and to guide me while respecting our political differences.”

  He smiled down at her.

  “With all my heart I do,” he said. “And I promise never to abuse the power you’ve given me, but to work daily to be worthy of it.”

  He picked her up from his lap and laid her down on the bed, skimming her jeans the rest of the way down and off. Then he stood and Lindsay watched as her fiancé stripped his clothing off before leaning over to finish undressing her.

  She opened her thighs to him as he fell between them. He found her warm and delightfully wet as he sunk himself in up to the hilt. Lindsay shuddered with the force of the deep need she felt for him, with the satisfaction of being so emotionally and physically filled. Her body transmitted this to Ron, who shuddered with his own satisfaction and came precariously close to losing control. But he mastered himself, and her, through slow seductive thrusts that became harder and faster until they were both moaning in mutual fulfillment.

  Afterwards, they held each other for long moments, knowing that no words were needed to affirm their feelings for one another, that no sentiments could adequately express the relief they felt at having come together again, this time for good.

  ***

  Red, white and blue balloons fell from the ceiling amid showers of confetti and underneath, Clara Faircloth smiled and gave a thumbs up to the crowd of sign-waving supporters.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” she said until the raucous cheers finally quieted enough for her to be heard.

  “It’s been a long road to victory, and a nasty one. But not from our side!”

  The crowd cheered again.

  “It’s been said that politics is a ruthless game, and that destroying an opponent is what is needed to win. But this election has proven otherwise.” She paused for another cheer. “By waging a positive campaign that remained focused on the issues, we put our trust in the voters to be what we know they are – good, honest and honorable. We didn’t play to the hidden or overt hostilities and prejudices of the populace because we believe those things are in the minority in this state. And today we proved that the majority of voters not only want change, but civility.”

  More cheering.

  “And now that we’re where we fought to be, the campaign continues. But this time it will be for health care and jobs and fair pay – the things that often get hidden beneath all the campaign squabbling.”

  The cheering went on for minutes now, and Clara Faircloth beamed as the flashbulbs went off in droves.

  “I got here because of the good people of this state,” she went on. “But I also got here because I had a good team of people – volunteers who worked tirelessly going door to door or making phone calls, donors who dug deep to fund our campaign and finally…” She looked off stage and her eyes filled with tears. “…a devoted and visionary young woman who went through her own personal hell to get us where we are today, a young woman with what I believe is a bright future in a world of better and cleaner politics. Lindsay Martin, come on out here.”

  Lindsay felt her face flush red. She preferred to be on the sidelines, but knew she couldn’t deny Clara tonight.

  “Go on,” Ron Sharp said. He looked down at her, his eyes as full of pride as Clara’s as he gave her back a little push. As she walked out towards the podium, he cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

  The couple had not announced their engagement, worrying that it would be too much of a distraction. Nor had they told Clara that both would be taking a break from political campaigning to become political analysts. The cable executive that was planning to hire them - a friend of Ron’s – knew about the engagement and figured Ron Sharp and Lindsay Martin would be the hottest political couple since Carville and Matalin.

  Later, Lindsay would not remember what she had said to the crowd. But she would remember the way Ron had looked at her offstage, his eyes full of love and support – his very presence the rock to which she could anchor.

&nb
sp; It had been a tough campaign, but more than one victory had been one. Of that she was certain.

  THE END