Holiday Politics (Book Excerpt)

  Ronald Rump and Mallory Clint Have a Show for You 

...........I continued walking towards the familiar faces that brought me to the party. I coyly walked past known politicians that had dominated many national and syndicated news programs; I didn’t want to get caught awkwardly staring at anyone. By the time I approached the sitting area and could see Tracy, my attention was re-directed to one of the power couples at the party. There they were, the current governor of Arkansas and his power wife. I found it funny they were dressed as Bonnie and Clyde.

   The Clints , Phil and Mallory, worked a room like no other couple I had ever seen before. She was poised, intelligent, but laid back enough that she appeared approachable. The couple appeared like they were a unified force. The way they shot quick glances at each other, even though they were involved in different conversations at opposite ends of the room. Even when they were engaged with other people, they still watched each other. It was like they were both predators in a room full of potential prey. One predator was ok with whatever the other predator wanted to do next. They were deliberate and determined. At least, that was my first impression.

   As I continued towards an empty chair, I was approached by a tall and sleazy looking man. Before I could make my way past him, he reached out and grabbed my arm and gripped firmly until I stopped in my path. His smile was forced and his breath smelled of alcohol.

   He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, and said, “I have a very important man who wants to meet you. Don’t say you have somewhere else to be, please. Don’t embarrass yourself. Where I want to take you is better than any place you’re headed, darlin.”

   He squeezed my arm tighter, as if he wanted me to feel his control, his power.

   I felt anger swell inside. How dare this person handle me this way, I thought. I didn’t want to make a scene. Then, within a few seconds, a tall and somewhat pudgy man appeared from behind a group of people. I recognized the man. He appeared even worse in person that he did in the media. looked even worse than how he looked in the media. His pores were huge and his face was oily. He looked like he needed to take a rice paper and blot his skin, repetitively. His hands looked tiny and his fingers resembled small, stubby cocktail sausages. When he talked, his lips pursed outward like he wanted to quack. Yes, everything about him made me nauseous. Needless to say, I was not impressed by the man waiting for his introduction. Mr. Ronald Rump was anything but sexy. In fact, he bordered on repulsive.

   As he sauntered over to engage in conversation, I wanted to bolt. Seriously, why did he want to talk with me? Ugh.

   Ronald wasted no time. He leaned in towards me and said, “Wow, what a plump ass, curvaceous hips, and an unbelievably small waistline you have. You grow up on a farm?”

   His hands reached in and his fingers rested on my hips. He was standing directly in front of me. My back against a wall.

   In my head, I thought, “What the fuck?” I tried to squirm away, but he tightened his grip.

   Ronald then leaned closer, his breath smelled like barbecue masked by spearmint, and he said, “Damn, girl,” as he held my hips tight, “You look like you’ve had your share of grits, corn, and steak.” Then he stereotypically palm planted his stubby fingers across my derriere and squeezed my butt cheeks.

   He wouldn’t let go. I stood there with his hand glued to my backside. I was frozen for a moment. My temper enraged, but my rational side told me to remain calm. Why? I have no clue, but within that moment of dubiety, I watched Mallory fixate on what was happening to me. I felt exposed. I felt taken advantage of; and now someone else caught me in a vulnerable moment.

   I calmly looked at Ronald. His hand was still on my ass. I quietly commanded, “Get your motherfucking hands off my ass, creep.” He didn’t listen, in fact, he squeezed tighter as if he was turned on, or pressing the situation.

   I grabbed his hand in an attempt to remove it from my body, but this chump took it as an opportunity to flaunt me to people walking by, as if he just picked me up as his party favor. There was an obvious covert struggle going on between his hands trying to touch more of my body and my blatant blocks to keep him away.

   Ronald thought this little struggle was amusing. He whispered in my ear, “Yes, honey. Keep it up. I like it when they squirm.”

   Squirm? Did he just say squirm? I couldn’t believe how disgusting this asshole was. As I fought to remove myself from his tentacles, he reached around with one hand and held my back and pulled me close to his body. He took his other hand and worked it down my front side and fingered the outline of my pussy.

   “You know you like it, honey.”  Ronald had a firm grip on me as he held me close to his chest and continued to slide his fingers up and down the outside of my underwear.

   I resisted as best as I could, but, I somehow still didn’t want to make a scene. What the fuck, I thought. Here I am getting manhandled in the middle of a party, and people think this is ok?

   I felt pissed. My body was pressed hard against his chest, and this looked completely natural to people.

   After a few moments elapsed, I heard a female voice standing beside me. I then felt a delicate hand placed on my shoulder.

   The voice said, “Really, Ronald? Are you trying to pass off a potential rape scene as the entertainment for the party?”

   Ronald loosened his grip on me. Thank god, I thought. If being held in a bear hug as my pussy was grabbed wasn’t bad enough, Ronald’s armpits smelled as ripe as hot trash left on a pile of shit.

   As soon as I unfolded from his unwelcomed grip, I saw her standing right there next to us. It was Mallory. She watched while I was aggressively fondled by a douchebag of a businessman. Mallory had a slight smirk on her face, as she gave me a once over. As I looked around to see if anyone else was watching, I saw him. Grant. He saw, too.

   Within moments, Mallory asked, “Is drunk Ronald bothering you, Miss?”

   My mask was still on my face, so I felt somewhat shadowed, and not as exposed as I felt on the inside.

   Ronald’s body immediately tensed. I could tell Mallory intimated him.

   Ronald looked at me, as if he had been caught doing something he knows he should not have done.

   Ronald tried to quickly compose himself, although his untucked shirt and messy hair prevented him from looking appropriately dressed. He then asked, “Mallory, is Phil trying to fuck someone else for campaign money?”

   Mallory looked at me. Her face was stern, yet soft enough to make her next words a welcome message to my ears. She then said, “Miss, watch yourself in surroundings like this. Power, politics and parties tend to normalize real fucked up shit.”

Mallory paused for a moment; and without breaking her eye contact with me, she then stepped on Ronald’s foot with her heel and twisted her foot. She then continued, “Unless you need funding, I’d suggest you stay away from these troubled circles.”

   Mallory then looked at Ronald and sarcastically asked, “Speaking of money, bitch. I thought you were going to give more to Phil’s campaign. We need to go talk in private.”

   Within minutes, Mallory and Ronald walked towards an empty hallway on the other side of the room. Where they went, I have no clue.