Saturday
No politician is a singular entity. By nature they need to be creatures of society, whether it be to appear popular, or it be to make sure sufficient funding is presented. But at the same time, no-one ever really gets to know a politician but their closest confidants, their inner team. The public persona, or even the private person you might meet at a closed-door fundraiser, these are not the person themselves. Only those whom the politician trusts implicitly will ever get to see the mask-less identity.
A good politician has a team that accepts that identity, and still works together for his or her benefit. A team that trusts not only the politician, but each other.
I was awoken the next morning by the sun shining on my eyes. This already told me that it was past one in the afternoon. When I awoke I lay splayed clear across the bed, it wasn't until I had blearily sat up and pulled on the nearest pair of pants that I realised that I hadn't gone to bed alone last night. I found Cindy's clothes neatly folded up on a chair, but their owner was nowhere in sight. After a brief moment of panic I reasoned that she probably had absconded into the shower, where she would have to be naked, though why she would have chosen to brave the hallways naked was beyond me.
I finished dressing and went to listen at the bathroom door, but I couldn't hear any running water inside. Ever more curious about where my elusive bed-mate had gotten to, I headed back to the living room to survey last night's damage with fresh eyes. I met Alex just closing the door to the living room. He saw me, standing there with disheveled hair, a bleary look in my eyes, an untucked and only half-buttoned shirt, and Alex just started laughing without remorse.
"You, my friend, are so totally, royaly, utterly screwed. You know that right?" He chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder and giving me a little push towards the living room. Apprehensively I opened the door.
The first thing I saw was Abby, sitting regally with a cup of tea flipping through one of my picture albums idly. Not what I had expected. The room had been meticulously cleaned again, and the furniture rearranged into a small circle around the coffee table. Not what I had expected either. Irina sat furiously taking notes to one side of Abby, to the other sat Cindy, wearing a shirt of mine buttoned loosely, and nothing else. Definitely not what I had expected. With their backs to me were Matt and Keisha. As you can guess: my expectations were being upended entirely. Freddie was nowhere in sight - I would later gather that he'd been excused to go home.
"Keisha," Abby said coolly, hardly sparing a glance for me, "you're up."
Keisha jumped up almost excitedly and like the cheerleader she appeared to be twirled her way around the couch. "Got it. I'll be back soon." She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the living room before I could say anything. On my way out I saw Cindy give me a wink and blow me a little kiss, and heard Matt mutter "...dude" under his breath, sounding stunned and jealous.
Keisha pulled me upstairs and back into my room. "You sit there." she commanded, pointing to my bed. I complied not knowing any better. Keisha started humming to herself as she started rummaging through my closet. "No. No. No. Ugh, no." She declared as she looked at my identical black shirts one after the other. "Seriously? No. No. Nope. Never. Honestly, do you have ANY wearable clothes."
I took her momentary pause for an answer as an excuse to ask, "Uh. What is going on?"
Keisha of course did not explain. But when she turned back to me she knocked herself in the forehead with her palm. "Doh! Keisha you idiot, you're forgetting the most important thing! Right." She declared focusing on me again. "You, go take a shower. I will iron a shirt. And some pants. Do you have a tie? And a suit perhaps?"
"On the top shelf, to the left, but I hardly ever use them." I answered. "Keisha, what is going on?!"
"Shoo! Shoo!" Keisha replied, flicking her bright red locks out of her face and turning back to the wardrobe.
Still flustered, I went to take my shower. I took an extra long one trying to figure out what was happening, but couldn't come to any rational conclusions. I was still towelling my hair dry when the closed door to the bathroom opened and Keisha strode in. "Stop!" She exclaimed horrified. "What are you doing?!"
"What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!?!" I countered trying belatedly to move the towel to cover my junk.
"Good lord, do you know nothing? Here," Keisha pulled a chair into the bathroom. "Sit."
I sat, in part because it was an easy way to preserve my modesty, allowing me to drape the towel across my lap. Keisha didn't let on, but she later told me that she had quite clearly seen more than she should have that day.
I was commanded to leave both my hands in my lap, and to close my eyes. Not really willing to oblige, I only complied with the first request. Keisha tsked at my stubbornness but as I opened my mouth to ask again what the hell was going on Keisha flipped the switch on Irina's hair dryer muffling anything I might have wanted to say. With a comb and a brush and the hair dryer Keisha set to work arranging my hair. She really massaged my head as she worked, kneading her fingers into my scalp. It felt wonderful, and so I grew a bit complacent. Keisha even worked some of Alex's hair gel into my roots to give my hair more body.
Before I knew it my eyes were closed, so I hardly noticed when the hair dryer was turned off, but my eyes flew wide again as Keisha sat down on my lap facing me.
"No no." She murmured and placed two fingers over my eyes, "for this part your eyes are going to have to be closed.... Your mouth too." She added as I opened my mouth. Soon I felt the ministrations of brushes and waxes on my face, lips, cheeks, eyelids.
Keisha scooted closer twice, the second time planting herself on top of my hands that I still had folded in my lap. It seemed like she was doing intricate work on my face, but I was suddenly concerned with the rub between my wrists and her crotch. To be fair there wasn't much rubbing, just a gentle contact that amplified with each movement, and even through my closed eyelids I think I heard Keisha breathe more heavily.
I tried to ameliorate the situation somewhat by spreading my legs apart a little further, thereby sinking my hands a little further and away from Keisha's private parts, but somehow this tactic served only to provide more firm contact and a slight rub between my wrists and my slightly erect penis.
"Hold still." Keisha admonished me, but I may have imagined a catch in her breath as she said it.
To finish off Keisha took a small dollop of lip gloss on the tip of her finger and ran it along my lips. Somehow I toughed through it. Keisha took a moment to finish inspecting her work, lips pursed. Setting her final tools aside, Keisha placed her hand on my lower abdomen, and pushed herself onto her feet. As she lifted her hands the right one very deliberately rubbed up against my penis. "Mhhh" she sighed, "that's nice..." deliberately leaving out whether she meant my cock or my make-up.
She ordered me to get up, and marched me back to my room. There she had laid out a full set of clothes for me, all ironed so that it looked newer than if I had just bought it. With a sneaky grin she commanded me to "get dressed" and leaned against the door with arms folded making it clear she was not going to leave.
I however, out-manoeuvred her little ploy by sitting on the bed with the towel across my lap, and slipping my underwear on underneath the towel. Keisha pouted a little, but did not mention it further. When I had put on the shirt, trousers and socks Keisha threw a red skinny tie over my neck and tied it for me, using the excuse to again lean in a little closer than maybe she should have. She also gave me my suit jacket to put on, and marched me downstairs. "From now on," she instructed as she prodded me down the stairs, "you're going to dress like this every day. Make sure you always have a spare outfit neatly ironed and folded away, and a new tie handy. We'll discuss getting you a new suit at the earliest opportunity as well."
I was frogmarched into the living room again where an analysing eye was passed over me by everyone in the room.
"Excellent work, Keisha." Matt lauded her, "I've never seen him look this decent!"
"I have." Alex countered, "but only once at our prom night."
Cindy came over and put a hand on each shoulder, then stood on tiptoe to give me a light kiss. "You look very good." She smiled.
"He does." Abby's authoritarian tone cut through, "but it's still missing something... Something to make it uniquely... Him...."
"I figured the black clothing would cover that." Keisha suggested, hovering over her large bag in the corner.
"I agree, and it can be a powerful symbol that we can use, the black. But there's still something too... Conventional to really get people's blood flowing." Abby replied. "I know, Cindy, fetch the hat."
Cindy hurried out into the hallway to return with my old beaten up western hat that she carefully placed on my head. Another appraising once-over look was made by everyone else in the room. "Yes." Abby decided. "That works. Keisha, do your thing."
Keisha roped Alex and Matt into helping her hang a white bed-spread between the end of our curtain rail and the door jamb. Then she placed me in front of it and whipped out a camera and started clicking away like mad. Occasionally she would call out instructions to me, such as "more to your left!" or "tilt the hat a bit less!" I complied on auto pilot listening to the conversation going on in the background trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
Abby was speaking: "Irina, where did we leave off? Oh yes. We have excellent penetration into the sports, the geeks, the art students, the history and English students. I am guessing that you, Irina, and you, Alex, can get the IT students on our side?" They both nodded confidently. "Which leaves you, Matt. D'you think you can convince the politics students to join?"
"I don't know," he replied cautiously, "we're a queer bunch to begin with, and many of us dream of becoming politicians ourselves. It might cause resentment. On the other hand they already know him well and the general impression seems to be favourable. I will work on it and report back when I know more."
"Do it soon. We'll need to know ASAP where to expend our resources." Abby instructed. "That still leaves a large number of academic circles that we don't have any penetration in. Particularly the sciences. We're going to need a point person for that, and I don't think Chris or Rose are going to be much help. Either they're unlikely to be friends to our cause, or they're not popular enough to get the movement we need in those circles. All of you keep an eye out for good candidates there.
