The Journo and the Pollie

I would like to take this chance to thank Randi, for her amazing editorial assistance.

All sexual participants in this story are 18 or older.

I couldn't believe how hard my heart pounded, thumping deep in my chest, my breath shallow, ragged. She smiled back at me with a mixture of contempt and disdain.

The questions I wanted to ask trapped in my throat, I stared back, my mouth gaping like a drowning guppy. Why wouldn't the words form, why was my mouth so dry.

She stood answering questions, assured, direct, unflappable.

I had a list of testing questions that just wouldn't come out. They were important, but nobody seemed interested in pushing her. All she was getting were these inane trivialities. The pertinent ones were slipping by unasked. She knew, she glared back at me, answering Steve from the Dominion. Fuck, who cares if she's going to be at the opening of the new pool.

The words flowed as she turned her gaze back to me. God, was that a smirk? Bitch. "Is it true you are being questioned by the select Committee over missing funds?" I managed to blurt out, as I pushed my microphone towards her.

Her smirk vanished as her eyes focused on me. There were gasps from beside me.

"I'm not sure what you are referring to, Melissa. The Select Committee is going over all projects. We are appraising progress, re-appropriating funds for completion."

"Well, is it true the Prime Minister has highlighted some concerns over the funding, and your association with the main contractor, Gold Seal?"

Her smirk, long gone, was now replaced by a piercing evil glare. "What exactly are you suggesting, Melissa?"

"Well, I have heard from sources, the PM has lost confidence in your performance. Can you shine some light on those concerns?"

The clamouring began as the other reporters pressed forward. Now there was real interest.

"I don't know where you get your information, Melissa." She tried to smile, her lips stretched and tight. "The PM and I have a wonderful rapport. I have his full support. That I can assure you."

"Well, is it true you have applied for another extension for the motorway completion? That you are seeking another fifteen million dollars, and the project is already fifty million over the original budget allocation?"

"The project is on schedule. Yes, we may require additional funding. That will be discussed by caucus," she snapped back quickly. With the floodgates open, the questions began in earnest. She gave me the dirtiest glare.

Red faced, she closed out the interview. We all started packing up. As I was folding up my mic cables and packing them away. I noticed a pair of glossy black heels standing beside me.

I stood slowly to stand facing Ivy Lawson, our Minister of Roads and Infrastructure. As our eyes locked, she snipped curtly, "Where the hell did you get that information, Melissa?"

I shrugged, swallowing hard. I did have a source inside her office, but I wasn't about to reveal that. "Just some stuff I heard around the offices."

She stepped forward, her scent overpowering, assaulting me, covering us both in a floral cloud. "Don't lie to me, Melissa, we know each other far too well for that."

"Ivy, you know I can't tell you where I heard it. I'm not snitching."

Our faces were merely inches apart. "There's nothing untoward going on, Mel. The contractors have been caught out. It will become public very quickly, but it will happen when we have got to the bottom of it."

With a soft voice I tried to deflect her. "How have you been?" I asked softly.

She winced, perhaps enjoying the deflection. "Fine, thank you. I haven't seen much of you for a while. Thought you must have been fired."

I sniggered. "You should be so lucky."

She smiled, as well. "After today, yeah I would. If I find out who gave you that information, they will be getting a short shift."

"Sorry, Ivy, I can't tell you."

"You know, if you approached me privately, I would have been more forthcoming. Dumping that on me in public in the middle of a press conference didn't win you any brownie points."

"I tried. I must have left a hundred messages. Your PA just fobbed me off."

"Sorry, Mel. You have my number, though, why not call me direct?"

"I don't have your number. The only one I have is an old one."

With my stuff packed up, I was ready to head away. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to the office, try and write this into a story."

"Do you have your car?"

"No, I came on the bus."

With a thin fragile smile, she asked, "Would you like a ride? I've had enough today. I'm going home."

"Sounds like you've had a hard day."

"Off the record?" She asked.

I nodded. She sighed. "There's a group of people trying to dump this on me. Trying to besmirch my reputation. The bloody contractor is Jenny Carsworth's husband, and he is trying to make me look bad. It's just a bloody cover-up. They've screwed up, and now they need a scapegoat. Me being the newbie, well I am the perfect target."

"Carsworth, you mean the Shadow Minister for Roads and Infrastructure?"

"The very one. Do you want a ride?"

I nodded and we walked off to her car. Damn, why did I say this was going to be off the record? Bugger.

As we headed out into traffic, she said, "I need a drink; do you want to come back to to my place? I was going to order in."

"Sounds a whole lot better than the cold pizza waiting at home for me. I can write the story later."

"Are you seeing anybody, Mel?"

I giggled, trying not to sound girly. "No, I have only been in the new job for a month or so."

"What happened to Callan?" she asked, giving me a sideways glance. How did she know?

I frowned. "Well, I caught him in our bed with Jaquie Weir. It's part of the reason I moved here. I needed a new start."

"He always was a dick. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"What about you, Ivy? Got a secret boyfriend stashed away?"

She sniggered, glancing at me with a sour pout. "Chance would be a fine thing. Romance is difficult in this role."

"Yeah, I can imagine."

We drove the rest of the way in silence. Ivy and I had known each other for years. We met at college. We both went to Nelson Girls. We met through the hockey team, and some shared classes.

We met again at Victoria University, in Wellington. Ivy was taking political science, me journalism.

We had always got along well. At one stage, we both dated boys from the same group.

As I glanced across at her, I did a quick assessment. She, if anything, looked more attractive than ever. She had always been a pretty girl, and grew into a real beauty. She wore her hair in a tight bun, not a lot of makeup, but with skin as smooth and perfect as hers, it was hardly necessary. It had always been her eyes; she had such beautiful glistening piercing eyes. When she stared at you, it felt like they were sucking you in.

Throughout our friendship, I was always in awe of her: so driven, so beautiful. She wasn't from a wealthy family. She paid her own way through university. Unwavering, and direct, she always knew what she wanted. She loved politics.

I was surprised by her meteoric rise through the ranks, but I guess I shouldn't have been. She knew how to build relationships, how to play the game, her eye always on the end goal.

Like most women, I followed her career with interest. It was hard to find out anything about her personal life; she kept her political life and her personal life completely separate. There were some rumours about relationships with a couple of very high-ranking party officials. None of them could be substantiated. I, like others, did some digging, but I never found anything.

As we pulled into her apartment building, she gave me a warm smile, and we headed for the elevator.

Inside, I was stunned by the elegance of the place. Holy shit it was palatial.

She moved into the kitchen and called out, "How about a margarita?"

"Damn, yes. That sounds fab."

I stood looking out the third-floor window, absorbing the cityscape. She walked up beside me and handed me my drink. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"Yeah, fine. I live out in Upper Hutt. Bloody awful."

"Oh, you poor dear." She smirked, clinking her glass with mine.

She checked her phone and scrolled through what were obviously a myriad of messages.

We sipped at our drinks. It was like she wanted to talk, but I guess journalists aren't that trustworthy. She obviously felt uncomfortable.

"Ivy, you can trust me. Whatever we talk about here tonight will stay between us."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. Come on, Mel. If I told you something so newsworthy it could get you story of the year, would you be able to keep that promise?"

Feeling a little affronted I snapped, "Yes I can, actually. I have ethics. My personal life is my own. We were friends at one time."

"A friend, yes, that would be nice. Nowadays, it feels like everybody wants something. I have to be so cautious with everyone. I can't remember the last time I had a real conversation."

"Well, now's your chance, pet." I replied. "I don't want anything. Well, something nice to eat would be good."

She laughed loudly. The sweet sound of her giggle so musical. "Yes, food. What do you fancy?"

"Something yummy."

She glanced at me as she made another couple of margarita's. "What about Chinese? There's a great little restaurant just up the road. They are pretty good and do takeaways."

Taking a gulp of my margarita, I nodded. "Sounds choice."

"Choice," she scoffed. "You look great, Mel. I mean really pretty."

Shocked, I laughed disdainfully. "Get off the bus. I look like shit. Haven't been to the hair salon in months. Do all my shopping at Target."

Shaking her head, she gushed, "You have always been a little hottie. I love seeing you out in the gallery during question time. I have wanted to talk to you for ages. I just didn't know if you would be interested, or if you'd want something."

Before I could say anything, she got on the phone and called the restaurant. Our food was ordered.

"So how come you are living alone?" I asked. "You must have every single guy in Wellington chasing you."

"Yeah, they all want the hot Polly on their arm. Nobody who really likes me."

"Surely some of them must be real?"

"No babe, they're all after something. A trophy, or they just want a favour."

"But, you're beautiful."

She grinned widely. "Thank you, Mel. That's nice to hear."

"No, I mean it. Come on you're gorgeous. Just because you're a Polly doesn't mean you can't have a real relationship."

"There's more to it than that, Mel. There's things you don't know. I have secrets."

"Ooh goody, secrets, I like."

We sat together on her leather settee, drinking our margaritas, and suddenly we were recounting stories from our uni days. We laughed, told stories that we had both heard a hundred times, but it was cool.

After another round of drinks and much laughter, our food turned up, and she was right. It was amazingly delicious. We ate at the breakfast bar, side by side. We talked about our parents and friends. It was a fun night. After cleaning up, we returned to the settee and more drinks. I was already pissed. Ivy, who I guess is more used to drinking, was in a slightly better condition, but only just.

We leaned against each other as we giggled and burbled on about shit.

"Come on, spill, bitch. How come no husband, or boyfriend?"

She stopped laughing, her face darkening. "You want to know the truth?"

"Yeah, go on, give it to me."

"Is this going in the paper?"

Slipping my arm through hers, I whispered drunkenly, "Don't be silly. We are friends."

"Okay." She gave me a look I couldn't decipher. She sucked in a deep breath before mumbling, almost ashamedly, "The truth is, I am not into guys."

I felt the room stop, the world went still, it was that quiet. I could hear my heart beating. "What do you mean, not into guys? You dated heaps of guys at uni. Shit, we double dated a few."

"Mel, I'm gay, okay? I think I always knew, but I tried to make it work. I did go out with guys, and I had sex. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately depending on your outlook. I didn't like it."

"I don't understand. I am confused."

She giggled. "Yeah, me too. I was confused for years. Now I am honest with myself."

"Wow, I can't believe it. Have you, like, been out with girls? I mean shit, do you know for sure?"

She giggled again, her giggle becoming a smirk. "Yes, Mel. I know for sure."

"But, I've never seen you with girls, there's been nothing said, no rumours."

"That's because I am very careful, and I don't date."

"That must be terrible," I mumbled, my drunkenness overwhelming me. I started crying. "That sounds terrible. You must be so lonely."

She nodded, and she wiped away a tear, as well. "I have been so busy with my career that it hasn't been a big deal, but yes, I do get lonely."

"Then why not come out? Tell everyone? It's a different world these days. It wouldn't mean the end of your career. There are lots of gay Pollie's these days."

"Yeah, and they're all stuck on the back benches. Parliament is full of double standards. If it came out that I was gay, it would be the end of my dreams."

"Then what the hell are you going to do? You can't go through life alone."

She sniffled a little. "I have a plan. I always thought if I could prove my worth.... make my mark in parliament, then I could make my announcement, and I would already be in. Then it wouldn't matter."

She hugged me tightly, her head resting on my shoulder. "I'm sorry for dumping on you, Mel. I think I have wanted to tell somebody."

"Do your parents know?"

"Oh, hell no. God, the thought of that frightens the hell out of me."

I slipped my arm around her back and pulled her against me. I wanted to comfort her, let her know that I didn't care.

We rocked slowly, cuddled together. "Are you going to keep my secret, Mel?" she whispered.

"Yes, of course I am. Don't insult me. I would never tell; all I ask is if you are going to make an announcement, maybe I could run the story for you?"

"Bloody reporters, all you care about is the bloody story," she huffed.

I turned my head, peering into her sparkling eyes, I mumbled, "You're my friend. I don't care about the story."

"I don't believe you, but thanks, Hon."

We sat for ages, just staring at each other, words seemed impossible. It was like falling into a trance, the world slowed down again, my breathing became shallow, my heart in my mouth.

It was glacially slow, but I felt, sensed, her head closing in on mine, her eyes glistening, sparkling. Her hand curled around behind my head holding me as her lips slid wetly across my own. My eyes closed, my breathing became ragged, my hands clammy.

We fell against each other, her breasts caressing mine. Her mouth opened; I felt her tongue slide across my lips. Sexy and seductive, my mouth opened, accepting her intrusion.

Oh my god. We were kissing, her tongue, oh heaven, it felt good. The inquisitive kiss grew quickly, no longer a thank you. It was passionate, torrid. I felt her juicy succulent lips sliding over mine, our tongues swirling, tangled in an erotic dance.

My phone ringing broke the magical moment. It shocked us both and we broke our embrace as I fumbled frantically for my phone. The ringing went on and on as I searched through my handbag.

By the time I found it, the ringing had stopped. It was now an incoming message. As I opened the message, I groaned. "Oh god, it's my editor. He's looking for my story. Shit, shit, shit."

I felt her hand on the back of my head, her fingers toying with my hair, her nails caressing my scalp. Damn it felt good, so good.

My phone rang again: my editor. Clicking accept, I spluttered, "Hi, Phil. How can I help?"

"You can send in that bloody story. Jesus, Mel, I need it now, or it won't run."

"Yeah, I'm on it. I had some technical issues."

Ivy, giggled softly beside me. "Lying bitch," she whispered in my ear.

I tried to hide my chuckle. "Have you been drinking?" he asked.

"No, I'm just having some issues. You'll have it in about an hour."

"You're cutting it fine, Mel. I'm sick of chasing you for shit. Get your bloody arse into gear."

"Yes, Phil, trust me. It'll be there in an hour at the latest." I disconnected the call and dropped my phone into my bag. "Oh shit, Mel, I have to go. I need to get this done."

She nodded. "Are you okay? Did I shock you?"

"Yes, I can't lie. I don't know what to say."

"Mel, I wasn't forcing you. I sensed something."

Nodding, I mumbled, "I'm not gay."

She frowned, her eyebrows hooded. "That kiss felt like you were at least interested."

Flustered, confused, I replied, "You're my friend; I love you like a sister."

"Then it didn't mean anything?"

"No, no, no, holy crap, I don't know what I'm not saying. I can't process anything at the moment. I don't know what to say."

"If you wanted to stay, you could write your story here."

"I don't know, I think I should go."

She sat back, her hand sliding down off my shoulder. She looked distraught, jumpy. "Oh god, Mel, I'm so sorry. I made a mistake. That shouldn't have happened." She immediately started cleaning, putting things away. Unable to hold my gaze, she gasped. "Mel, I don't know why I did that. Oh god, Mel, I'm sorry."

She burst into hysterics, spinning wildly, her eyes ablaze. I rushed in and grabbed her. "Stop, please. It's all right. You just caught me by surprise."

"No, Mel. I let things get to me. I've been so alone. Everybody dumping on me. Oh shit, I'm such a fool, now you will hate me, as well."

I held her tightly, my hand holding her face into my shoulder, her body shuddering, wracked with violent sobs. We stood like that for what felt like hours. My legs ached as we swayed and rocked.

Eventually, she gained control. Stepped back wiping her eyes. "Oh god, you must think I'm a frigging nut case."

I giggled, my head still fuzzy, too much to drink and then, all this. "You're being silly. I am not upset."

"You're not?"

"No, I'm incredibly flattered. Knowing that you feel that way. Wow, it set my heart aflutter. I mean, I'm shocked, but to have a gorgeous sexy woman like you interested... Well, it's just wow."

Wiping away the last of her streaky tears, she whispered. "I suppose you're laughing at me."

"No, I most certainly am not. I don't know what to say. The kiss, god, it made me tremble, but I am not gay."

"I shouldn't have put you in that position. Look, Mel, let me organise a taxi for you. Go home, write your article, but please, be gentle."

The taxi ride was quiet as my mind swirled in turmoil. Even now, alone, I couldn't process it. The feelings were so strong. The kiss, oh my god, the kiss. The way my body responded, never had I felt such a huge swell of emotion from just a kiss.

Walking into my flat, I flopped into the chair in front of my computer. Opening it, my body rebelled, still fuzzy, intoxicated. If I wanted to finish the damn story I was going to need coffee, and lots of it.

Trying to make the story not so damning was the hard part. All the information I had accumulated, was based around painting her in a bad light. Sloppy Government official wastes public money. Call for her to resign.

After enjoying such a wonderful night, that was the last thing I wanted. I needed to rephrase, alter the attack. All the other papers would use my questions, and poor Ivy, was going to get roasted. Tapping away mercilessly, I finally found words, and they shone the blame fair and square on the road construction company. It meant being creative, using allegedly a lot. No names, but by the end, I was happy.

I walked into the office in the morning, my head still groggy. My boss grabbed me. "What the fuck was that garbage you posted as a story last night? What happened to the story condemning our useless Minister for Roads and Infrastructure? What the fuck happened to that?"