DISCLAIMER: While this story refers to several persons other than the main characters, who currently hold, or formerly held, elected office, they are not participants in the events related in this story, which is essentially about how I and a good looking former governor came to have a relationship that was much closer than the employer/employee relationship that it was at the outset. The political figures mentioned here are in the story only as they provide some context to the relationship between the main characters. No opinion or commentary is offered as to the merits of any policies or conduct of their positions, pro or con, and none should be inferred. Expression of such views is best left to other forums. We're all here for the sex, which is what this story is really about. Enjoy.
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I've always been the driver. I have an innate ability to handle a motor vehicle, and have driven everything from cars to beer trucks, to 18 wheelers, to transit buses. I also have an ability to read a map, something that intimidates a lot of people. And I'm not squeamish about driving in traffic, probably due to learning to drive in lower Manhattan. Since my college days, any time anyone has had to go somewhere, they have asked me to drive.
I retired at 55 following a long career in transportation. After a couple of years, I again longed for the road, if only on a part time basis. A casual conversation with a friend led me to an opportunity, and I soon found myself in Lansing, Michigan, waiting for an interview with a former public official who was looking for a part time driver and personal assistant.
At the appointed hour, a secretary called me, and I was ushered into a back office. As I entered, a tall, slender woman with close cropped blonde hair, a bright smile and sparkling blue eyes came out from behind her desk to greet me. I quickly took in the sight of her in black pants, low heels, and a royal blue blouse, open about three buttons, just enough to give a hint of her B cup breasts-but only just a hint, just a tease of what was inside.
"Hi. You must be Tom. I'm Jennifer..."
"...Granholm," I completed her sentence.
"You know??" she asked, a little surprised that I recognized her.
"I didn't know it was you I might be working for, but when I saw you, I recognized you from seeing you on CNN. I follow politics pretty closely."
"Oh," said the former governor. "So you're a political wonk," she said, smiling.
"I don't know if I'm a 'wonk' necessarily, but I keep up. And I find your commentary insightful." That was true, but I figured it didn't hurt to suck up a little. What I didn't say was that I had also admired the governor's form for a long time.
The interview went well, and I was offered a job as the governor's part time driver and personal assistant. The hours would be flexible, and I would be driving her to events generally within 150 miles of the office, occasionally longer. The job suited me, and paid pretty well, which didn't hurt any.
It turned out that my services were required a bit more than I originally expected, but this was 2016, a presidential election year, and the governor was deeply involved in getting out the vote in Michigan, which turned out to be one of the pivotal battleground states. I didn't mind; I was getting along famously with Governor Granholm, and we soon developed a good rapport, discovering we shared a sharp wit and keen sense of humor, and I especially enjoyed her dead on impressions of Sarah Palin, though our relationship was entirely professional and courteous. Though she was a veteran of many political battles, she'd often ask my opinion or seek insight into various situations, valuing my observations from the "man on the street" perspective. These sessions led to many deep conversations about policy and strategy. My political leanings are generally centrist, and I think that position helped Mrs. Granholm keep a balanced outlook, though I don't want to give myself too much credit for that, as she's perfectly capable of forming her own policy platform without my help. What it did unquestionably do was bring us closer together, since I'd always give her a straight up answer, and I soon had her trust on many issues.
Following the election, as the Trump administration got underway, the governor, coming from what turned out to be a key battleground state, found herself in demand as a speaker and commentator, often appearing on CNN and other outlets. Some of those appearances would be done remotely, but some would be in studio, and we'd travel to them. Typically, that involved flying to wherever the appearance was on the longer trips, though I would usually drive Mrs. Granholm when we got there. She appreciated my knowledge of major cities, and that I was not flustered by heavy traffic and urban driving.
As the year rolled through spring and into summer, the governor's appearances on CNN became frequent, and we found ourselves one week in late August going to New York for several stints on CNN, as well as appearances on The View, Today, and several other programs. We were going to spend the week there. Following that whirlwind tour, we had been invited to Chris Cuomo's Southampton beach home for the weekend before heading back to Michigan.
We finished up Friday on CNN Tonight, planning to head to the Hamptons on Saturday morning. We had flown into La Guardia, where CNN sent a car to pick us up. That would be our primary method of getting around town. I normally like to drive, since I prefer to have control over how we get places, and I had developed a somewhat protective attitude toward Mrs. Granholm, not really trusting anyone else to drive her. I had learned to drive a car in lower Manhattan, so I'm not squeamish about New York traffic, but just the same, I was glad not to have to drive in it. It also gave me time with the governor, helping her prepare for her TV spots. This was quite welcome. We had become close during what was now a year of our working association, though our interactions were entirely professional; still, the close working contact seemed to bring us closer than we were already.
During the week of being taxied by a limo, Jennifer had noted how bad Manhattan traffic had gotten. I reminded her that sometimes Detroit was worse, which got me a look, but her point was well taken. Driving in New York was never a picnic, but it was a lot easier in the 70's when I learned. Now it was constant congestion. She wondered idly how bad the traffic would be on our trip to the Island that weekend.
Saturday morning came, and we were ready to go. We went downstairs, and out into the street. The governor looked around, wondering where our car was.
"I have an alternate plan," I said. We were at the Hotel Pennsylvania on 7th Avenue at 32nd Street. "Follow me." I took the governor's hand and crossed the street, going down the stairs into Penn Station. I got two tickets for Southampton, and led her to the gate for Track 18, where we boarded a Long Beach train.
Jennifer had not experienced this method of going out to the Island, as she had always been driven, or flew in to Islip. "This is different," she said, as we boarded the train in the bowels of Penn Station.
"It's the height of elegant travel," I said, giving her sarcastic look. "Actually, we'll be on this train only about 20 minutes. At Jamaica, we'll connect to the Montauk train. It'll be a little nicer." Jennifer gave me a 'what have I gotten into??' look as we settled into a couple of seats. I explained as we rolled toward our connection in Jamaica how in years past, the trains to the east end had parlor cars, some even with rear platforms, and were a really elegant way to travel. We were soon on our way, blasting our way through Queens once we cleared the East River tunnel, arriving in Jamaica on time on Track 7.
The scene at Jamaica is carefully choreographed chaos, as any commuter will tell you, and I didn't want the governor to get away from me, so I took her hand as the doors opened, and led her across the platform to track 8, where a train was waiting. Jennifer was headed for the door, when I held her back.
