Monday, 7 February 2011

The Senator, The Girl & Nobody (Part 1 of 2)

Here is my first piece of fiction for February, you'll have to excuse the sneaky way that I'm posting it in two halves. Providing that you enjoy it enough to come back the next half will be posted next week... See you then!

The Senator cracks a smile at someone, waves at another, this is his party. He’s been nominated to run in the big race for the top job. Right now the competition may as well be a retarded fourteen year old girl or one of the Sheen acting dynasty, strapped to a wheel chair and tripping on acid. The Senator is starting to feel unstoppable; if he wins he’ll be a modern day god walking the earth. From our vantage point we can watch the Senator as he and his wife work the crowd, all here in the grounds of her house in the Hampton’s for one reason, to kiss his ass.

He turns briefly, flashes me one of his huge shit-eating grins – he looks uncannily like the actor Powers Boothe. Something or someone has distracted him, he turns, kisses his wife, whispers to her – I can see as you can his lips moving but the band’s too loud to make out what he’s saying. Leaving his wife to entertain the guests he casually moves toward the house.

He's not fooling us, we know he’s just seen one of his young campaign assistants – you know, the one that resembles the actress Mila Kunis. The Senator watched as she entered the house. He’s been harassing her - it started weeks ago and we’ve been watching him ever since. As we finally enter the house behind him, one of the maids gives the Senator a come-and-get-it smile. His response leaves us to conclude that they’re acquainted but I don’t believe I’ve seen her before. He whispers a suggestive little something in the maid’s ear, a promise maybe, his fingers slide down the back of her uniform where he proceeds to treat her ass like a piece of ripe fruit and gives it slow testing squeeze. From here we can see she wants him - it’s obvious, it’s in her eyes. The Senator appears to have lost track of time, side-tracked from his hunt, stalled, his original prey forgotten.

He’s searching the house now, searching for his lost prey. I’m struggling to keep up with him. We see a flashback, the moment he was almost caught mid-fumble with the maid of all people. He shakes his head, annoyed - a rare moment of vulnerability he’d like us to believe that he’s above. The Senator bursts into an office set aside for the admin staff’s use. Nothing. He seemed so sure. The Senator climbs the stairs, his veneer of control starts to slip away.

The third door he carefully tries is locked, he pushes his ear hard against it, inside, we can only guess what he’s hearing. Quietly he slips into the next room, and makes his way to the adjoining door. I almost run into the Senator - he stops so suddenly. His hand cautiously turns the door’s handle before letting it swing open, to reveal the expensive looking bathroom inside.

The Senator’s prey is leaning against the cabinet that supports two matching granite wash basins, he’s with her. What’s he doing with her? We didn’t see this coming - a secret boy friend; the official photographer, caught in the act, trousers down. The Senator is stunned into silence, she is beautiful but he is no-one special, a nobody – the sort of guy you might remember from a mouthwash advert. Nobody’s camera has been left on the window sill close to where the Senator now stands. Her panties catch the Senator's eye lying where they fell, close to her feet. He lets out some sort of feral snarl and leaps at them. There is nothing we can do. She steps in front of the Senator holding out her hands pleading for him not to hurt the guy, her summer dress is slightly unbuttoned and the strap has slipped from her shoulder, we can see her left breast, slightly exposed: in close-up it looks perfect.

The Senator slaps her, a good backhand, she falls, we hear her head crack as it contacts the edge of the bath leaving a bright splatter of blood and at that moment we know this is going to end badly.
To be concluded…

(c)Lee Auburn 2011

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