My Only Talent

Man is by Nature a Political Animal

Note: The descriptions and accounts in these stories are fictional and do not portray any actual people or events.

Nora had arrived even later than planned and Lara and I had picked her up at DFW in Lara's daddy's Bentley, and we then had to go straight to Jay and Millie's wedding -- we plan to have our own little honeymoon after the happy couple departs. It was some time before I even checked the progress of the reception line. Lara and Nora emerged from the mysterious bride preparation chamber and walked purposefully towards me. Looks like it's almost showtime.

In the meantime, I was stuck sitting with Raymond "Stuckey" Jones, a part time professor at the junior college where my Mom taught, and local political commentator. Stuckey was a short, dumpy looking guy who was a legend in his own mind, and on the independent TV station where he had held forth for 30 years, spinning hypothetical election situations combined with election returns and biting personal insults. He hated all politicians equally and was very creative in communicating his feelings. He always thought he should be a featured analyst at a major national network, or at least CNN. Alas, he seemed to be permanently relegated to mediocrity in the Metroplex, sandwiched between local newscasts and old B movies that were the prime fare at the non-network station. He was lucky it was carried on the cable systems at all.

Stuckey always knew where the free food and drink was, and that is why he was sitting next to me at a table near the buffet lines. He was already three sheets to the wind despite the morning hour, and his usually acid wit was even more bitter and biting.

"There all sons of bitches, son!"

I had seen his act before. When he was invited to a collegial dinner with my mom at my house, at assemblies at the junior college, and while watching late night movies when I was stuck at home alone with the TV.

"Every got-dammed one o' them! Lyin' cheatin' low-life sumbitches. It's my job to suss out which ones are best at it. Your buddy Jay Kincaid is going to be a big-time pol if he doesn't fuck it up. He's got everything goin' for him, doesn't he?"

Stuckey downed his drink and snagged another, and then resumed what would prove to be a long oration.

"Maybe the Kincaid boy will be different. God knows he doesn't have to worry about money -- he can be honest instead of sucking up to special interests and donors. He might have to suck up to Granddaddy and Granddaddy in law, though. Those two old fuckers are two of the biggest special interests in Texas all by themselves! Jay's good looking, and the sumbitch speaks Spanish, too. Not stumbling 7th grade pissant Spanish like the got-damn Bush boys, but fast and fluent like a native. He can go on all the Spanish language networks any time he wants and handle all the questions without looking stupid. Shit fire, that's worth a million votes in Texas right there!"

Jay was a native speaker, in Spanish and English. He grew up on the ranch, surrounded by the kids of vaqueros and wranglers, many of whom were descended from the "Texicans" who lived in Texas before it became a Republic, much less a state. He learned Spanish and English simultaneously. The ranch also had a big satellite dish that picked up the signals intended for Latin America, so he knew all the Spanish novellas and variety TV shows. He cracked up some of the guys at ESU when he spoke "Gobermiento" like the Mexican equivalent of C-Span, and he could even do passable imitations ranging from old timers like Cantinflas and Flor Sylvestre to Gloria Trevi and Jose' Jose'. He came to several of the PIG costume parties as the legendary luchador Mil Mascaras.

"He looks comfortable on a horse, even did some competitive rodeo when he was in high school, plus this new wife Millicent is a potential political bombshell, too. Her family is as liberal as his is conservative, and they are connected all over the state, she's well spoken, very politically savvy, and she's hot. Maybe too hot, from what I hear."

I was starting to get pissed off. Stuckey must have seen my face change.

"Not that there's anything wrong with having a few wild college days, eh, Robbie?" He looked at me pointedly, but I didn't take the bait.

"But she's got to keep it under wraps from now on. If Jay Kincaid gets as much attention as I think he will, and I am never wrong about such things, then there will be a lot of media scrutiny. Some reporter could make their bones exposing something scandalous on the new golden boy! Speaking of which, what kind of stuff can you tell me Robbie? Aren't you his frat brother?"

Even a drunken Stuckey couldn't miss how pissed I was now. But my mom had seen his act long before I was born, and she had schooled me on his tactics. Get his interviewee pissed off and hope they said something stupid. They often did. I had certainly proven myself capable of that. Remember to engage brain before mouth, Robbie!

"He is in a different frat, but he is a good guy!"

"That makes sense. Your family couldn't possibly have enough money to get in his frat, could you?"

I know I looked pissed now. Count to three before speaking, Roberts.

Stuckey pushed even harder. "I understand you used to 'date' Millicent. Is that the proper term for it? How freaky is she in the sack?"

Count to ten Robbie. "She is a wonderful young lady, and I am proud to call her my friend. Jay is my friend to. I wish them the best."

Nora and Lara walked up, and immediately sensed my discomfort. Lara recognized Stuckey, as she grew up in Dallas. He did not recognize her. She also remembered some of his personal peccadillos, too, a fact she immediately put to good use.

"Did you drive yourself here, Stuckey? Should I call MADD and ask them to arrange a video and a ride home for you? Perhaps in a police car?"

Stuckey had several well publicized DUI arrests, all of which he wriggled out of without a conviction. One of the rival stations had gotten hold of the police videos, and gleefully showed them for days. Mothers Against Drunk Driving often protested his few personal appearances. He looked sourly at Lara. Now I was truly pissed off. She stepped between us.

Stuckey tried to assert himself, "I haven't had the pleasure, Miss?"

Lara looked down at him like he was dog shit on her shoe. "You won't!"

She turned on her heel and stalked off, with Nora close behind. I felt better. Stuckey was undeterred.

"What about Kincaid's crazy quilt positions on the issues? Don't they seem weird to you?"

I didn't know Jay's positions on any issues, except for our discussions on how to treat Millie in private. His grandfather was a Phi Iota Gamma legacy and a true robber baron arch conservative, but Jay's father, who died shortly after Jay was born, was supposedly a firebrand liberal hippie, or more correctly an Austin style 'cosmic cowboy'.

While I was collecting my thoughts, Stuckey was still spewing forth.

"His grandfather is just barely to the left of the John Birch Society, but his father was a bleeding-heart liberal, way left of Hubert Humphrey or Daniel Patrick Moynihan. But those two would be considered neo-conservative sticks in the mud by today's Marxist zealots! So, may I assume Jay Kincaid will be another racist, misogynist, homophobic, transphobic Republican?"

"I don't even know that he is going to run for office, much less what his positions are." I got in Stuckey's face. "I was always taught to respect my elders, and I respected you when I was little. But I don't any more. I think you hate politicians because you know even the minor ones will have more effect on the world in one day than you have had in your whole life. And if you are rude to my friends again, I might show you how rude I can be, too."

Mutterings and movements told me the ceremony was about to begin. I looked up to find Lara and Nora and adjusted my path to join them on the way up toward the rows of chairs set up in the big dance hall of the ranch. We settled in on the groom's side. I spotted Cisco and Mae Ling with many of her Bi Phi sorority sisters on the bride side. She looked radiant. I had remembered to wear the Stetson she gave me. Everyone else who had been with her at the Horseshoe Bay condo wore theirs. Cisco had one too. The ultimate inside joke.

A very trendy synthesizer manned by a tuxedo clad keyboardist began to play the wedding march, through a set of speakers that looked taller than the Republic Bank Tower, just as I sat down between Lara and Nora.

They leaned toward each other, whispering just behind my neck. "Have you heard what's in the vows?"

"No, have you?"

"No, but we all need to talk after we hear them."

My neck started to itch. Our future arrangements have been hypothetical and fluid up 'til now, but marriage vows were not so flexible, even if our plan was highly unconventional.

A few more last-minute guests filtered in. There had been a competition between the two prominent families to invite the most noteworthy guests. Jay's grandfather began with the Mayor and Governor, and Millie's grandfather countered with the House Majority leader, who he had known since the Democrats were big with the American Petroleum Institute (long before I was born). They lobbed competing invitations and announcements back and forth like tennis balls, until Millie finally delivered her putative kill shot by revealing that Sapiento and Erminia would attend as her guests. The press immediately noted that Sapiento had way more money than both the famous wedding families combined.

The crowd had reacted earlier to a grey Augusta helicopter arriving, and Sapiento and Erminia emerged and greeted everyone. They caused another stir as they filtered in and sat up front over on the bride side, waving to me and the girls as they passed down the aisle.

Stuckey did a double take at that wave and stared at me for thirty full seconds. Most of the press had been excluded, but Stuckey would talk to lots of people, perhaps garnering some attention I did not want. But I was soon forgotten, as the unexpected arrival of a Marine helicopter was followed by the entrance of the final guest, the Vice President. Game set and match to the Kincaid/Garner invitation side.

Jay moved down the aisle past us in a grey morning coat. He looked even taller than he was. He stopped next to the minister and turned, looking back expectantly for Millie to emerge. The bridal hymn swelled with electronic vibrato, and Millie and her father moved into the center of the aisle. She looked incredible. I heard a sharp intake of breath from the two girls next to me, and most of the women in the hall.

The crowd was completely silent as Millie made her way down the aisle, and all I could hear was my own heart beating, almost as loudly as during the marathon in Dallas. What's up with that?

Jay's little cousin was serving as the flower girl. She was suitably adorable, producing a chorus of ooh's and ah's from the crowd. Millie's little male cousin was just as cute as the ring bearer. Soon Jay and Millie were standing before the minister, or more properly, the Methodist Bishop of North Texas, who was an ESU alum and Phi Iota Gamma, too. My heartbeat accelerated even further.

"Friends, we are gathered together in the sight of God to witness and bless the joining together of Millicent and Jay in Christian marriage..."

Why was I having trouble breathing? I don't remember the exact wording, but basically, they promised to always tell each other the truth and work together to use their strengths to overcome their weaknesses. Both Nora and Lara leaned on my shoulder and dripped tears onto my tux. I heard two new and unique Suzie signals from them -- somehow profound and resonant. I was shivering.

Suddenly the music swelled again, and the newlyweds were moving back down the aisle. A waiter announced that the bar was open, and the crowd moved like the flood tide toward the adjacent reception hall, which was really a huge tent.

I was expecting schmaltzy reminisces and cutesy stories about Jay and Millie as children, and there was some of that. But it was really sequenced like a press conference, but without any reporters asking questions. Both grandfathers spoke, and simultaneously congratulated the happy couple and announced their endorsement of Jay's bid for the Texas State House of Representatives.

We endured toasts made by a wide variety of people. Some were smart and insightful, some were cloying and boring, and some were drunk enough to be almost incoherent. Jay and Millie glided around elegantly for their first dance, and then a good many people took to the floor, dancing at various levels of grace. The happy couple then set up at a central table in sort of an informal reception line and began pressing the flesh and small talking with the crowd as it circulated around them.

We took our turn in the swim and finally congratulated Millie and Jay in person. Millie, Nora, and Lara swirled together in a succession of hugs, giggles, and whispers, while Jay took me aside for a one-on-one conversation.

"Robbie, I cannot thank you enough for introducing me to Millie! She is perfect for me, and I have learned how to meet her needs. I will have to work hard at it, but it's a labor of love for me now! She also helped me decide on a political career."

"How is that?"

"Well, as you know, she is a political groupie. She's already hot as a firecracker, but political campaigns and politicians get her even hotter, more than anything else. So, I must be the hottest young politician around to keep her focused on me. I'll run for state rep, then state senate, then Lieutenant Governor, and then run for the United States Congress and go forward from there. I also am now a virtuoso with my trusty Hypervolt, and I play Millie like a musical instrument!"

"What's a Hypervolt?"

"It's a rechargeable handheld massager, with more power, cycles and attachment options than any other. Mostly used in gyms and by personal trainers for muscular massage, but I put it to sexual use. It's so powerful that it creates sensations nothing else can. In Millie's case, it has the dynamic range to go from tender titillation to outright pain, which is just what she needs. You friend Oiler hooked me up with a 3D printer guru who makes custom tips for the Hypervolt, and I can take Millie places she has never been before. We both enjoy the trip!"

At this point, Millie must have shared some of these sexual techniques with Lara and Nora, as there were giggles and sideways glances at Jay. The photographer and videographer took control again for a while, and then Jay and Millie departed in a storm of rice and cheering. They got in a long limo and departed for the honeymoon. Politics reared its ugly head there too, as they planned a romantic getaway in Iowa, of all places.

They would begin in Mason City, at an historic Frank Lloyd Wright designed hotel that had been the backdrop for many past presidential campaign events. They would spend a week in Iowa, being highly visible at famous steakhouses, and meeting some local pols with national political connections. All the press attention at the wedding virtually assured that there would be further coverage of the Iowa trip. I wondered if Stuckey's prediction about the press looking for dirt would hold true.

After the happy couple departed, the real drinkin', gossipin', and story tellin' began. I began to see why Tessa and her Tattler minions never missed a society wedding. Husbands who had been dragged unwillingly to the ceremony, after a few drinks, began to complain loudly about the wives who had dragged them. Wives whose husbands had not attended began to complain to other women about their wayward and neglectful husbands. Everyone continued to try to drown their sorrows in the free flow of booze that the wedding supplied, and tongues got looser and nastier.

Lara and Nora waded through the cloud of Bi Phi's and picked up all the latest Pan Hellenic news from Austin. While the football fans and many of the frat rats were talking about the new ESU freshman football phenom, Dicker the Kicker, sorority tongues were wagging about another kind of hero, Zucker the Cucker. It seemed that young Emil Zucker had gone from his Houston area high school to a three-year overseas stint with the Peace Corps. In his case, it may as well have been called the Piece Corps.

The thirty-something women who comprised the mid-level field management of that organization who were also straight soon discovered that young Mr. Zucker was eager to please and had the anatomy and endurance to do so. He soon learned what the older than average woman needed and wanted, and that if he supplied it, they would do almost anything for him. By the time he finished his Peace Corps hitch and arrived at ESU as an older than average freshman, his skills were well honed, and his taste for women between 35 and 50 was thoroughly established.

It didn't take him long to find a playmate. A famous tenured ESU English professor, who had years before married a student co-ed thirty years his junior, arrived home earlier than usual one afternoon at his comfortable campus area abode to spy young Zucker's muscular butt pumping up and down over his now forty-year-old wife's widely spread and vibrating legs. The professor was so shocked that he was struck dumb and frozen in place.

As he watched in stricken silence, he discovered two things. First, his wife was reaching levels of excitement and respiratory rates he had never seen. Second, he was as turned on as he had ever been, and his usual seventy-year-old semi-tumescent penis was now a raging rock that enflamed him beyond any previous experience. He watched in fascination as his wife reached a loud climax, and young Zucker did so just a few moments later, finishing off in his wife's greedily sucking mouth, something the professor had never enjoyed.

His response was that of a true academic liberal: he applauded. His wife was frozen in surprise, and young Zucker was too spent to react strongly. Before either one could say a word, the professor took a seat on the divan near the foot of the bed.

"Do go on young man. Do it again! I want to watch the whole process from beginning to end."

His wife's shock turned to excitement, and she discovered that she very much enjoyed putting on a teasing show for her staid husband, in addition to the younger man's attentions. Zucker discovered that he performed even better with an audience, and after young Zucker left the house, the professor took his turn with the now overjoyed wife, performing very well indeed. The chance meeting turned into a weekly ritual which all three thoroughly enjoyed. Thus, the legend of Zucker the Cucker was born.

The ESU faculty gossip network is anything but ineffective, and it didn't take long for Veronica Tappert to learn of Zucker's skills. He soon became one of her co-stars, and she urged her husband Rock to get young Zucker into a campus frat. Even Veronica recognized that Zucker, despite his bedroom skills, was not capable of the kind of academic effort required for UDP, or even PIG, so she suggested Sigma Nu. They found Zucker "a little coarse" for their membership, but he found a happy home with the Kappa Sigs. Unfortunately, he was much more successful at cucking and drinking than passing classes, and he soon found himself on academic probation and then transferring to Texas State.

Finally, it was announced that the bar would soon close, and people began filing out of the wedding venue. Nora and Lara said their goodbyes, and then we piled back into the Bentley and motored majestically north to Lara's huge Turtle Creek area manse. Lara waved at the guard at the gate as we passed through and explained that her Dad and his honey Lillian Gush were away, traveling in search of another insurance company to acquire, so we had the place all to ourselves.