This is, of course, a work of imagination. Any resemblance to events in the real lives of those mentioned are entirely coincidental.
*
I've been involved in politics most of my life. Mostly in local races for candidates you've never heard of, but over time I've worked my way up and now I specialize in national contests, mostly for democratic candidates. I helped elect a democrat to congress in a Pennsylvania district that had long been a republican stronghold, and I guess that's what caught the attention of the national party.
Like a lot of people, I had mixed feelings about Hillary Clinton, but I couldn't resist such a high-profile campaign. She was the leading democratic contender, had a strong base in New York, good fundraising and incredible name recognition. These were certainly factors I could build on.
What I wasn't prepared for was the effect she had in person. At our first meeting, she took my hand in both of hers and looked me in the eyes.
"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Clinton," I said,
"Hillary," she responded with a smile. "I'm so glad you're here, John," she said. Her hands were warm. "Tell me about yourself." I did so, feeling myself falling into those amazing eyes.
I was stunned. In seconds, this woman had completely pulled me in. The personal magnetism of her husband was famous, but she had always been in the background, and I was amazed to discover that her charisma was, if anything, stronger than Bill's.
We talked for quite a long time, about her, about me, and about the campaign. After an hour, I felt like Hillary was a dear friend. I would do anything for her, and I was thrilled to be working on her presidential campaign.
Being a workaholic had always been an advantage in my business, and today was no exception. I met the staff, began to get my office organized, and plotted out my schedule for the next several days. I didn't see Hillary again that day, but I was disturbed at how often she invaded my thoughts - that brilliant smile, those deep, dark eyes, and her warm touch. I had to keep shaking off the memory and telling myself to focus on work.
I told myself this would pass. I'm no kid to get caught up by an adolescent infatuation. But that night I kept dreaming of her and waking to find myself reaching out for...nobody. What the hell was wrong with me?
I had planned to spend the week connecting with key players in and around New York, beginning to set up more fundraising, coordinating a media campaign, the usual early stage campaign stuff. But about 5am I was awakened by a call informing me we were catching a plane to New Hampshire.
This wasn't too surprising. The Iowa and New Hampshire caucuses kicked off every presidential campaign. Although the sparsely populated states had few electoral votes, they were symbolically important. Doing well in the beginning sent a positive signal, and every candidate would be spending time in these two states in the days ahead.
The campaign staff were still being hired – in fact that was one of my jobs – so we were going to New Hampshire with just a small crew - myself, Hillary, and a couple of assistants to handle phone calls and travel details. The day was a whirlwind, seven stops in 12 hours, hundreds of hands to shake, interviews with half a dozen small papers and two radio shows. We got back to the hotel, and we were all beat. Marsha and Gail announced they were going to their room to crash and would see us in the morning. We had a 5am wakeup call. Hillary said she was going for a swim in the hotel pool and asked me to join her so we could talk about the campaign. I was exhausted, but she was the boss, and we did need some time to plan strategy. The hotel gift shop was closed, but I called the front desk, and they were able to set me up with a bathing suit – I hadn't planned on doing any swimming.
I got to the pool first, and was pleased to find it empty. Not a surprise, as it was pretty late, but I wasn't in the mood to put on a happy face for the public. I called room service and had them bring a bottle of champagne to the pool. Hillary walked in just as I hung up, wrapped in a fluffy white robe from her room. She dropped the robe on a chair and slipped into the water. I was stunned for the second time in as many days. Hillary was wearing a pretty demure one-piece suit, but it didn't hide much. She was gorgeous! All those stuffy business suits had disguised a killer body. Slim, shapely legs, a flat tummy, a nice round little butt and full breasts that were amazingly firm for a woman her age. I realized I was staring and dove into the water to hide my blush.
I swam a couple of laps in the warm water while Hillary just floated and splashed around, trying to relax after the long day. The champagne arrived and I waded over to the side to sign for it. Hillary smiled at me and said, "Oh, perfect! I love champagne!" God, that smile made we weak in the knees. What the hell was wrong with me? I poured her a glass, lifted my own, and said "To the next President."
"Oh, no," she answered, "that's bad luck. How about – to new friends."
"New friends," I replied. We drained our glasses and I poured another round.
"Better watch out," Hillary said, moving closer to me. "I get silly when I drink champagne." She giggled. A sound I never expected to come out of that mouth, but I found it completely adorable.
"That's all right," I answered. "I'm silly all the time." We both laughed, and the tension of the day began to ease away.
After just two glasses each, the bottle was empty. I suggested another, and Hillary agreed.
"Please have them bring it up to the room," she said. "I'm getting cold." She climbed out and toweled off. I spent a few moments admiring her figure again before she covered it with the fluffy robe.
