Politician (Working title)

Chapter 1
  Two bodies embraced passionately beside the bedroom window that overlooked the circles of light cast by street lamps. Connected only in the heat of the night, the bodies danced in the shadows, while below on the street, a vehicle awaited the finality of their lovemaking. The car’s driver remained invisible behind the tinted windows, but vigilant in his duties.
  Above in the apartment, the two bodies gripped each other. The pair collided, each aching with lust for the other. The man controlled the woman, trapping her below his body. She moaned and he thrust into her. She cried in agony as she climaxed, his force never slowing. Minutes later and with one last plunge into her body, he pulled out and collapsed beside her. Even the exhaustion that overwhelmed them was not enough to cease their unity, however erotic it might have been.
***
  Men and women in dark blue suits, sunglasses, and earpieces stalked the community green. After an entire morning of extensive investigation, the area was granted clearance. The sky was overcast and the air was humid; a light breeze drifted through the park.
  A dark-haired man, dressed alike to the others, stood behind a podium and scrutinized the view across the park.
  His earpiece buzzed, “Mid-town, what is your status?” The man spotted the parked van across the park and understood. He took notice to the group of apartment and hotel buildings northwest of his position.
  “The hotel on Beacon, anyone check it?” he questioned. He lifted binoculars to his eyes and scanned the windows for any sign of danger.
  His earpiece hummed a response, “Wright cleared it a little while ago. Why, see anything?”
  The binoculars swept along the building and, once Agent West was satisfied, he answered.
  Inside the van, three men sat watching monitors, listening to conversations via earpieces, and waiting.
  “Uptown-one, what is your status?” the man with the mustache asked. The conversation was short, and after an affirmative position, the man continued to question the remainder of his security.
  Satisfied with the readiness of his men, the man announced, “Long black train is approaching. Positions.”
  The agents became stationary as a black stretch limousine proceeded toward them. Small American and Boston flags above the headlights wafted in the breeze. The limousine slowed to a halt along the curbside, and its inhabitants were greeted warmly by their security.
  A tall, handsome man stepped out of the vehicle, smiling for the cameras, and waving to the crowds. He was dressed in a fitting black suit, clad with a colored shirt and patterned tie. His hair was gelled a little too perfectly and his smile slightly crooked. His body was trimmed and in shape, but the small wrinkles around his eyes revealed his age. His teeth were whiter than the average person’s, most likely the result of cosmetic enhancement.
  A woman stepped out behind him, looking distinguished for her age. Her hair was neatly wrapped in a bun, with twisted strands falling down beside her lifted cheeks. She smiled for the camera, and wrinkles were no longer invisible to the world. At forty-five, two years the man’s junior, she was still quite as ravishing as years ago, if not more. Her outfit was finely chosen, accentuating her complexion, among other assets.
  She wrapped her right arm through his left, and posed together for the paparazzi. With an agent on either side of the couple, they began their very public march toward the podium, where the man would stand before a fully investigated crowd of Bostonians and deliver his speech; the couple would then leave as quickly as they had arrived.

Chapter 2
  One year and four months earlier, Christopher Hall, a successful politician in the state of Massachusetts, celebrated his forty-sixth birthday. His best friend and political assistant, Charlie Duncan, had reserved dinner at the Odyssey Dining Cruise. The entire three-decked yacht was to be emptied by five-thirty, and prepared by six-thirty for the politician and his guests.
  The SUV pulled alongside the dock and rolled to a stop near the ship. The door opened and four adults emptied out of the vehicle. The two men exuded handsome appeal in fine Italian suits, while the women radiated beauty in their designer dresses.
  They were greeted aboard the Odyssey by the ship’s master captain, Captain Jeff Taylor, and first captain, David McDevitt.
  “Welcome aboard the Odyssey, Mr. Hall. The First Captain and I would like to wish you a wonderful evening aboard the ship,” Taylor said, smiling. He was handsome, dark-haired, and sincere. He stood tall in his nautical attire: a navy blue suit, paired with a white button-down shirt and navy tie. He donned a sailing hat that, embellished with gold rope and the Navy emblem, distinguished him from the other sailors. McDevitt was dressed similarly, and stood with as much authority as Taylor.
  A shorter, stockier man dressed in white and navy scrubs emerged from the background. He introduced himself as their host for the evening. He shook their hands, grabbed four menus and led the group to their table on the Admiral’s Deck.
  The deck was furnished beautifully, with fifteen or so dining tables, an open bar, and a magnificent view of the Boston Harbor. The lighting was intimate and inviting, as was everything else about the ship.
  The foursome took their seats and a waiter was hovering over them promptly.
  “How are we this evening?” the waiter asked.
  “Wonderful, thank you,” answered Christopher.
  “Have you decided on drinks?”
  “Wine, of course,” piped Charlie. “What do you suggest?”
  “That depends on your meal, sir. What were you planning on ordering this evening?”
  Charlie looked over at Christopher and nodded for him to answer the waiter.
  “If the women are in agreement, we’ll start off with the Tasting Trio, move on to the Roasted Duck Confit,” he said, scanning his menu. “And then, for the main course, I was thinking the North Atlantic Salmon, what do you think ladies?”
  Christopher laughed as the women glanced at each other and then at the men. They giggled and nodded in agreement.
  The waiter smiled, “We have an ’02 Chardonnay that will accent the salmon beautifully.”
  “Mm, Chardonnay, honey that’s what we had at the wedding,” reminded Sarah, Christopher’s wife.
  “The Chardonnay it is, then.” Much to Christopher’s delight, Sarah’s smiled widened and her eyes beamed.
  The waiter scribbled their order on a small notepad, gave one last smile, and turned to walk away.
  The couples relayed their days to each other while they waited for the waiter to return with their drinks. Sarah had spent her afternoon reading on the back porch of the Hall estate. Charlie had spent his day logging finances and planning appearances for Christopher. Christopher had shaken hands, kissed babies, and smiled for photographers. Barbara, Charlie’s wife, told about the deliveries she performed at the hospital; she hit his arm playfully and begged, “When are we going to have children, Charlie?”
  Charlie responded to his wife only when he saw the waiter approaching, “Soon, darling. Ah, our wine is here,” he grinned. Christopher chuckled at the waiter’s timing.
  “The ’02 Chardonnay, Mr. Hall,” the waiter announced, standing before Christopher with an angled bottle of wine. Christopher glanced at the label and, satisfied, he nodded for the waiter to proceed. A glass was poured and handed to Christopher. He gently swirled the wine around in the glass, wafted the scent, and tasted. Smiling, he nodded once more, and the waiter poured each person a glass.
  “Sir, if I may,” the waiter asked, “The Chardonnay contains aromas of ripe melon, pineapple, and grapefruit, with a subtle overlay of smoky oak. I think you’ll find that—”
  Sarah took another sip of her wine and chirped, “Oh, this is simply divine, Christopher.” She ran her free hand through her strawberry blond hair and pushed away strands that fell around her face. She wrapped her arm through Christopher’s and rested her head gently on his shoulder. He smiled but there was something different, something off, about this smile. It wasn’t sincere like Sarah’s; it was as if it were for show only. He might have fooled Charlie had it not been for his saddened eyes. They yearned for something else, something more. Still, his smile never lessened, and he held Sarah as if he would never let her go.
  Over the next twenty minutes, the couples enjoyed conversation, Chardonnay, and their first course: the Tasting Trio. The waiter offered the appetizer on a medium-sized platter.
  He pointed to each section as he explained, “The first is a red tomato crisp filled with Nova Lox mousse and Mujjol caviar. The second, a striped European cucumber topped with whipped Basil Feta cheese. Finally, the third is a spicy black bean tostada with a Santa Fe smoked chicken salad. Enjoy.”
  He turned and left the group to their appetizer. They tasted each part, were delighted with the taste, and finished the platter accordingly.
  The waiter returned a few minutes later, after clearing their appetizer dishes, with the group’s second course: the Roasted Duck Confit. He followed the same routine with this course: delivering the meal and explaining its contents while he did so.
  “This course is a braised duck with Cherry Balsamic Demi-glace, served atop a double-ripe Plantain cake. It’s garnished with sun-dried cherries and candied pecans.”
  He watched quietly as they took their first bites of the course, and walked away when they approved the taste.
  Barbara commented, “This is delicious. I can’t imagine anything tasting better.” The others were in accordance with Barbara, and everyone was disproved when the main course arrived.
  The waiter presented the main course, the North Atlantic Salmon, on a large silver platter. He motioned for the two men behind him to clear their plates and provide new ones as he lowered the platter onto a nearby table.
  “The North Atlantic Salmon. Grilled salmon filet with a citrus Tarragon butter sauce, served on a bed of lentils with sugar snap peas, julienne carrots and wild mushrooms.” He served each person a portion of the salmon and left them with the savory, light taste.
  “Barbara, I think you were wrong, darling,” Charlie quipped. She quickly revoked her aforementioned statement; the others laughed as her face turned red.
  After finishing their meal and a bottle of wine, the waiter provided them with another bottle of the ’02 Chardonnay. Christopher poured each person a glass, despite that they were each already bubbly from the first several glasses. He lowered the chilled bottle into the ice chest by his seat, and cleared his throat.
  “I think now would be as good a time as any, don’t you agree, Charlie?” Charlie chuckled and motioned for Christopher to continue. “Now, as you know, I was planning on running for Governor this coming election. But,” the women glanced at each other in wonderment, “Charlie and I were talking a few days ago, and I want something more than that. I need more than that.”
  “Christopher, what on earth are you talking about?” demanded Sarah.
  “I’m running for President.”
  “What? Christopher, you’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.” He just stared. “You can’t seriously be thinking about running for President, can you?”
  “I’m announcing my decision tomorrow at the press conference.” He paused, then retorted, “President Christopher Hall… President Hall… You don’t like that? I think it rolls off the tongue.”
  “No, I don’t.” she spat. “Christopher, you never even discussed this with me.” Disgusted, she threw her cloth napkin on the table and excused herself. Christopher rolled his eyes and sighed at the stubbornness of his wife.
  Barbara suggested, “You should go after her…”
  “She’ll be fine. She’ll get over it. I’m doing this, I’m running for President.” He paused, finished off his glass, and muttered, “Happy birthday to me.”