Free LifeoftheParty by Trudy Doyle

hank of her hair. “I must look like hell.”
    Doug smiled with something she couldn’t define. “I’ve never
seen you more beautiful.”
    She laughed. “And you certainly look sexy as hell with my
lipstick all over your mouth.”
    “Don’t I?” He took out a handkerchief and blotted. Were
detectives the last people in the world who still carried them? He shifted
against her. “Got a feeling the rest of it’s someplace else.”
    She pushed off him. “No doubt. Oh look, there’s another
bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
    He zipped, straightened his jacket, slipped a mint into his
mouth. And after running a hand through his hair, looked nearly perfect. Gina
couldn’t help but marvel.
    “I’ll be waiting,” he said, crossing his arms.
    She shivered again and ducked inside.
    Wasn’t she in a similar place just minutes before? She
straightened her bodice, seeing the marks from his lips just below the fabric
line. Her nipples hardened. God, if he didn’t know the meaning of discretion.
She took a brush, powder and lipstick from her clutch and went to work, and
within minutes, Gina had been restored to decency. She thought of going into a
stall, but she rather liked the bit of dampness he had left in her nether
region. Because even momentarily reflecting on how it got there sent it
dampening even further so really, why bother?
    Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t simply
hoist her against him and fuck her. Why, in all their encounters these last
couple of days, hadn’t he fucked her at all? It couldn’t be that he was
incapable, and it clearly wasn’t that he didn’t desire her. Jesus Christ, she
thought as she took one last look in the mirror—what was it? She walked out
into the hall, scanning from left to right.
    He was gone.
    “Gina?” She jumped, looking straight ahead.
    “Gina, how the hell are you?” A slightly balding middle-aged
man walked over, his hand extended.
    “Marcus.” Gina slid her clutch under her arm and shook hands
with Congresswoman Antonia Perez’s chief of staff. Even though Congresswoman
Perez’s legislative district was next to Congressman Falco’s, her D.C. office
was one floor up in the Rayburn building, and it had been awhile since Gina had
run into Marcus. Especially with Congress currently out of session. “How’s that
bill coming?”
    “Stalled, no surprise there.” He tugged at his collar.
Clearly he had bought it either a decade or twenty pounds earlier. “Hey, I hear
your guy would’ve moved up from ranking member to chair of Appropriations if he
wasn’t running for governor.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting on
one foot. “Why’s he doing that anyway? Why run in-state when his star’s rising
so fast Federal?”
    “Oh come on, Marcus,” she said with a wink. “Everyone knows
the quickest route to the White House is via the statehouse.” She looked past
him. Where is Doug ?
    He leaned in. “Then it’s true?”
    She swept her hand in front of her. “I’m not saying
anything.”
    He laughed. “Same old clamp-lips Gina. You’re a freaking legend,
you know that?”
    “Why follow trends, Marcus, when you can set them?” Music
spilled in from the ballroom and they gravitated toward it.
    “Dance?” he asked, offering his arm.
    “Sure,” she said, taking it, and they walked out onto the
dance floor.
    It was a nice, staid waltz, and Marcus was a capable enough
dancer. She continued the small talk, the usual Jersey politico splice and
dice, both scanning the floor for who was there, who wasn’t and who should be.
Like Doug, who was still nowhere to be seen. Dammit , she thought,
irritated. He picked a fine time to be elusive. Why hadn’t he done it
during the day when she was at Falco’s local congressional office, elbow-deep
in correspondence and constituents, instead of lounging in the corner chair,
those icy eyes clamped on her legs, driving her slowly mad. She laughed to
herself. Mad with wanting to pull him into