Chapter Fifteen

Colleen stared at her reflection. She undid the second button on her blouse and then reassessed. “Hmm…too much?” Did it say rosy-breasted maiden? Or scab-ridden whore?

She scowled and suddenly felt ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with her? She was acting like a silly schoolgirl. Next she’d start doodling Bijal’s name on her notebook in cursive and writing gothic poetry about unrequited love and the agony of getting her period on prom night.

Callisto started clawing at the back storm door, so Colleen hurried to let her in, glancing at her watch. Based on how busy Sunomono was, Bijal could arrive any moment. And the more time that elapsed after they had agreed to meet at her house, the more uneasy Colleen was becoming. Was this a horrible mistake? Her conscience was certainly telling her that it was.

As Colleen let the dog in, she noticed the dark smears Callisto was leaving on the kitchen floor.

“What the hell?” Colleen knelt down quickly to verify the nature of the filth. “Callisto, what is this?” A cursory sniff confirmed that it was fresh mud—only a minor relief.

The dog shook violently, sending speckles of sludge everywhere. Colleen grabbed her by the collar in an all-too-late attempt to minimize the defilement. Callisto had dirt all over her, particularly her muzzle and paws. “Girl, what did you do?”

Callisto, clearly startled by Colleen’s outburst, dropped what she had in her mouth—what appeared to be an old bone from possibly the Mesozoic era—and now looked suitably contrite.

“You dug this shit up now? You couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

Callisto tilted her head slightly to the left, which was all Colleen needed to forgive her utterly and immediately. “Why?” Colleen asked plaintively as she stood. “Don’t you move a muscle, sister.”

Colleen headed to the linen closet to get one of her least favorite towels to start scrubbing the filth both off the animal and the floor. She checked quickly over her shoulder that Callisto was still waiting patiently and not spitefully dragging her ass across the kitchen for good measure.

She was sitting, as good as gold. Or, perhaps more accurately, as good as grimy muck-caked gold that smelled strongly of mildew, grass, and, quite possibly, a freshly dead body.

Colleen returned with a towel and began the Herculean task of cleaning Callisto’s fur. “Is this some clever ploy on your part so you don’t have to share my attention? Is that it?” Colleen brushed her hair out of her eyes as she continued wiping goo off Callisto’s chest and stomach. “You know I don’t have time to give you a bath. That’s why you look so goddamn pleased with yourself, isn’t it?”

Callisto picked that moment to lick the side of Colleen’s face, undoubtedly based on her proximity. “Sure, suck up now.”

The doorbell rang, and both Colleen and Callisto froze.

“Shit,” Colleen hissed.

A quick examination of things confirmed her worst fear—the kitchen looked like a crime scene in brown. She gazed at Callisto and took a deep breath. “I’ll just explain to her that I don’t usually live with a layer of silt and clay in my house, and that it’s all your fault.”

Reasonably confident that the dog had no remaining mud on the pads of her paws for the smearing, Colleen flung the dirty towel into the laundry room and ran to the front hall. When she swung the door open, the sight of Bijal holding a large take-out bag instantly conjured butterflies in her stomach. “Hi.”

Bijal smiled broadly. “Hi.”

“Come on in,” Colleen said, holding the door open.

“You ordered what feels like thirty pounds of sushi,” Bijal remarked as she stepped inside. God, she smelled incredible.

“I ordered a variety. Thanks for picking it up.”

They stood for a moment in the foyer, staring at each other.

Bijal squinted. “Um, you have a little something on your cheek.” She pointed to her own face sympathetically.

Colleen approached the hall mirror and was mortified to see two separate streaks of mud on her face, one on her forehead and the other across her left cheek. It was as though she was moonlighting as a Jackson Pollock canvas. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Without even trying to wipe it off, Colleen sighed and turned, taking the food from Bijal. “Come on in. We might as well get this over with.”

“O…kay,” Bijal replied, her trepidation apparent.

Colleen led her into the kitchen, where the floor, walls, and cabinets were spattered with crud. “Here it is,” Colleen said in defeat. “I was hoping to get this cleaned up before you got here. It’s Callisto’s handiwork.”

Bijal gawked as she took it all in. “Is it…poo?”

“Oh, God, no! It’s just dirt! She was out digging in the yard,” Colleen blurted. “She came in covered with mud, and she shook.” She realized she was gesticulating like an insane person, so she folded her hands in front of her and took a deep breath.

The corner of Bijal’s mouth crept upward slowly. “Can we put the food in the fridge real quick?”

“Sure,” Colleen replied, taking the bag of food and stuffing it into the refrigerator.

“Okay, where’re your cleaning supplies?”

“Under the sink. But you can’t clean. You’re a guest.”

Bijal walked over to the sink and tore a paper towel off the roll, then dampened it under the faucet. “Uh-huh, come here.”

Colleen stepped toward her, and Bijal began to wipe the grime off her face. “Thanks for not just spitting on a tissue,” Colleen said, humiliated.

Bijal’s face was dangerously close to Colleen’s, and she looked especially amused. “That would be moving our relationship into a disturbing new stage, I think.”

“The tell-mama-all phase?”

“And without stopping at the really good phases that most people hit on the way to that one, yeah.”

Colleen swallowed loudly. “And cleaning my house doesn’t put us in roughly the same place?”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m not grouting your shower or anything,” Bijal said, throwing the paper towel in the trash can. “I was just going to help you tidy some of this up.”

“Thanks,” Colleen said softly.

“What can I use on the floor?”

Colleen retrieved a mop and ran it under the tap before handing it over. She then got herself a damp sponge to start scrubbing the wall.

Bijal pushed the mop in long strokes, until she unintentionally bumped a dirt-encrusted bone with the mop head, sending it skidding to the other side of the room. Bijal warily scrutinized it. “Is this the cause of all this mess?”

Colleen nodded, picking the offending item up. “So it would seem. I think it’s from a velociraptor.” She took the bone over to the sink to give it a thorough rinse, while Callisto watched in interest. After a cursory blot with a paper towel, Colleen handed the bone back to the dog, who trotted away with it merrily. “Bitch.”

“Yeah, I think that’s where the word originated, actually.”

“Good point,” Colleen said, letting her gaze linger on Bijal’s hips as she continued to mop. They swayed to and fro in a hypnotic way. “So, would it be completely skeevy if I took this opportunity to tell you about my hot-cleaning-woman-in-a-business-suit fantasy?”

Bijal stopped moving completely. “Well, if not skeevy, it would certainly seem calculated. You know, like you planned this.”

“Oh…well, I won’t tell you about it, then.” Colleen went back to cleaning the wall.

“Interesting logic.”

“It works in Congress. Can’t we just strike it from the record?”

“That depends,” Bijal said. “Can we strike tonight’s debate too and just say it never happened?”

“Sure, provided I can ask you a question about it first. Then we’ll never speak of it again.”

Bijal began to rinse out the mop head with tap water. “Deal, because I’m already starting to block out the details. So you’d better hurry before I mentally replace it with all the lyrics from West Side Story. ”

“How shall I phrase this? Um…how about, what the fuck is up with your candidate?”

“I’m sorry, can you be more specific?” Bijal asked as she washed her hands.

“Denton,” Colleen replied. “Does she have a chemical-dependence problem?”

Bijal tore off a paper towel. “No, she has a much more…multi-faceted issue. It involves the NRCC, a mean case of pinkeye, and the ill-advised consumption of someone else’s prescription tranquilizers.”

“Wow,” Colleen breathed. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than what I assumed, which, frankly, included snorting veterinary-strength narcotics off the ass of a male prostitute.”

Bijal whistled in appreciation as she presumably imagined that scenario. “I’m not sure either. Right now, I’m just trying to focus on how to keep our campaign staff coming back to work every morning.”

“How’s that going?”

“It’s hard when your candidate isn’t allowed to hold the views that drew you to her in the first place, let me tell you.”

Colleen rinsed out her sponge and began to wash up. “That’s understandable.”

“So when it stops being about the issues, all you have left is a series of public appearances so horrific that we might as well be running a squirrel monkey in a diaper.”

“At least the diaper would keep it from flinging poo,” Colleen replied, removing the food from the refrigerator.

“You’re making an argument for the squirrel monkey?”

“Well, I’m assuming the monkey’s not on tranquilizers, right?”

“Ouch,” Bijal said, her expression one of amused surprise.

“Sorry, we’ll strike that from the record too.”

“Then while you’re at it, go ahead and strike me flipping you off.”

Colleen laughed as she watched Bijal dramatically extend her middle finger. “Done. What would you like to drink with dinner?”

“What are my options?”

Colleen scanned the fridge. “I have diet soda, orange juice, red wine, bottled water, iced tea, and my personal favorite with sushi—cold sake.”

“That’s all? Just those nineteen choices?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’ll have a smattering of sake, please.”

“A smattering?” Colleen asked suspiciously.

“With a glass of water,” Bijal added. “I need to make sure I’m able to drive home later.”

“I’ll let you sleep on my couch if you agree to do my ironing in the morning,” Colleen said glibly as she unpacked everything from the take-out bag and arranged it on a serving platter.

“Is this another chore you’d like me to perform in a business suit?”

“No, for the ironing you’d just wear nylons, garters, and a crisp linen apron.”

“Is now a bad time to mention that I’m wearing a wire?” Bijal asked.

“Really? Let me know how your diaper-wearing squirrel monkey responds.”

“Touché.”

Colleen closed the distance between them and her body responded to the energy. She tapped lightly on Bijal’s top blouse button. “Is this thing on?”

“God, yes! Oh, you mean a microphone. Nope, sorry. I made that part up. But you can search me if you like.”

Colleen had never been so tempted to take someone up on an offer. Bijal’s flirty playfulness was beyond distracting—it was utterly entrancing. “I’m afraid that would violate our agreement.”

“Oh yeah…damn.”

“Come on, let’s eat.” Colleen set all the sushi and drinks on the dining-room table and motioned for Bijal to take a seat.

“This looks amazing,” Bijal said, picking up a set of chopsticks and surveying the spread.

Colleen sat down and poured them both a cup of sake. “To our pact of sobriety and decency,” she toasted.

“May it rest in peace—in the plot right next to our restraint.”

“And apparently also our dignity,” Colleen added before they both took swigs.

“I don’t know where to start. It all looks delicious.”

“Try this one.” Colleen pointed with her chopsticks to an elaborate roll with tuna on the outside. “It’s called a Red Dragon roll.”

Bijal followed Colleen’s suggestion and popped the large piece completely into her mouth. “Oh, my God!” she struggled to say, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Mmm-hmm, I told you.”

“Please don’t take it personally if I stop speaking entirely and just unhinge my jaw to devour this like a python.”

“I’m not letting you off the hook that easily,” Colleen said. “Sorry.”

“Do you think we could give polite conversation a try?”

“I know it may feel awkward without bringing up politics, fisting, or dry-humping,” Colleen said. “But I suppose some might consider us noble for making the effort.”

“I’m game, as long as you agree to stop right away if it starts to sting.”

“You mean if one of us gets a rash from all the clean talk?”

“Exactly,” Bijal replied. “What are these with the avocado on top?”

“Hmm…I don’t remember.”

“Just make up a name, then.”

Colleen paused for a moment. “Fine, that’s the Surly Fellatrix roll.”

“So much for keeping it clean,” Bijal replied, popping one into her mouth.

“I thought it might be better if we sort of eased into the chastity.”

“Good thinking. And I have to admit, this is the best Surly Fellatrix I’ve ever had.”

“Glad to hear it. Try this one with the tempura shrimp in it.”

“And that’s called?”

“That’s the…Frisky Weasel roll,” Colleen lied.

“You really know how to sell them, don’t you?”

Colleen grinned. “That’s why I’m not in marketing. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? That should be a relatively safe topic, right?”

Bijal cleared her throat, but didn’t balk at the request. “Well, let’s see. I’m originally from Philadelphia. I got my poli-sci degree at UVA, which is where I met Fran.”

“Ah, the roommate with no filter.”

“That’s the one, yes. Um, my parents met in India and immigrated to the U.S. to pursue their tree-hugging, hand-clapping, sunshine-and-moonbeam dream of American liberalism.”

“They sound like wonderful people,” Colleen said.

“I’m not terribly surprised that you think so. I’m sure they would absolutely adore you.”

“You think so?”

Bijal nodded. “Sure, the three of you can bond over entitlement programs and deficit spending and just eat granola and high-five all night long. As you might imagine, the evenings I spend with my parents don’t go quite as smoothly.”

“Is being conservative your personal form of rebellion? Because that’s kind of unusual. Well, except on Family Ties. ”

“I threw them a bone by being a lesbian. Why couldn’t that have been enough?”

Colleen grinned at how adorable her dinner companion was. It was official now—she was thoroughly besotted. “Some people are just never satisfied, I guess.”

“Exactly,” Bijal replied adamantly. “Maybe if I’d had a sibling. You know how in some families one child takes one for the team and becomes a doctor, or goes into the priesthood? Maybe a brother or sister could have realized Mom and Dad’s liberal dreams and run off to, I don’t know, become a tambourine-playing fanatic who renounces all worldly possessions. Periodically, the folks could go to the airport and shout encouraging things as they watched their offspring hand out daisies to strangers.”

“It’s nice that you think so highly of progressives,” Colleen said, putting another Frisky Weasel on her plate.

“No offense.”

“Oh, none taken. I can see why you’d equate flower-peddling, panhandling zealots with a social ideology based on caring for the old, impoverished, and infirm.”

“Isn’t that charity, not government?”

“‘With malice toward none, with charity for all.’ Abraham Lincoln, Republican.” Colleen added ridiculous emphasis to the final word and rested her chin on her hand expectantly.

Bijal shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s kind of a bleeding heart in the vast pantheon of Republicans.”

“Which is what makes him one of the best you guys ever had so, naturally, you don’t want to claim him. He only ended the Civil War, emancipated the slaves, and made it onto the penny, dollar bill, and Mt. Rushmore.”

“Hold on, I never said I didn’t want to claim him. You see how you politicians twist things? You’re vipers, all of you,” Bijal said, pointing mockingly with her chopsticks.

“Sorry, but coming from a campaign staffer, that’s a bit like having a scrotum call you ugly.”

Bijal’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I’ll overlook that you just likened me to a ballsack, because that was a very nice segue to genitalia.”

“Thanks.”

“Though, next time, can it please not be male? I am eating, after all.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“So what about you?” Bijal took another sip of sake.

“You mean my genitals?”

Bijal choked as the liquid went down the wrong way. She coughed and inhaled deeply. “I meant for you to share a little about yourself, like I just did. But if that’s where you want to start…”

Colleen sat back in her chair and laced her fingers together. “Since you were an undercover spy, why don’t you just tell me what you already know? That way I don’t waste any time repeating things.”

“Okay, but stop me if I get anything wrong.”

“Deal.”

“Let’s see, your family owns the Arc of Orion distillery, and has since shortly after the repeal of prohibition. You ran the company before running for Congress, then passed it to your brother.”

“All true.”

“You went to UCLA, presumably so you could burn patchouli, dance barefoot in the streets, and mingle with people named River and Rainbow.”

Colleen chuckled. “I love that you equate liberals with hippies. You know that hippies haven’t existed in any real numbers for several decades, right?”

“You haven’t met my parents. Anyway, you were elected to the House of Representatives to represent a relatively conservative district, yet in spite of that, you’re still very outspoken about liberal issues that are unpopular with the majority of your constituents. Candidly, I find that dead sexy, but unfortunately for you, it leaves you rather vulnerable for reelection.”

“Wait, can we go back to the sexy part for a moment?”

“Of course,” Bijal replied coyly before having another piece of sushi.

“Can you elaborate, please?”

Bijal swallowed. “Well, I’ve scoured your voting record, campaign website, promises, interviews, and ads, and I’ve yet to find an instance of backpedaling, flip-flopping, or pandering. You don’t seem to do the partisan dance of opportunism that’s standard for your contemporaries. You actually put it all out there unabashedly.”

“Well—”

“For instance, you support gun control in a state full of hunters. You’re pro-choice in a region that leans pro-life.”

“Anti-choice.”

“Ah, yes. Sorry.”

“Tell me, Bijal. Did your research uncover exactly why reproductive rights are so important to me?”

Bijal quickly became serious. “Yes.”

“I’m in Congress partly to continue Lisa’s work now that she’s gone.”

“That’s admirable.”

“So here’s my take on what you refer to as the ‘partisan dance.’”

“Okay.”

“It’s total horseshit. And I’d appreciate it if you can explain to me how it’s somehow not only acceptable for politicians, based on who they’re addressing, to change their opinions like soiled underpants—”

“Ooh, good metaphor.”

“—but it’s actually expected of us. That, coupled with the practice of selling votes to the highest bidder—what I refer to as graft, but what most call campaign donations—is why the American people despise politicians. And in a cruel example of self-fulfilling prophecy, they turn away from politics in disgust, don’t educate themselves about their representatives, and don’t vote. Therefore lying, crooked assholes without souls get reelected time and again.”

Bijal stared at her and said nothing, a tiny crinkle forming between her eyebrows.

“What?” Colleen asked.

“A couple of things, really. Number one, I consider myself, as well as most people in politics, fairly cynical. So when you get all spun up about why things aren’t more open, honest, and bipartisan when it pertains to the public’s best interest, it reminds me that…well, those aren’t things that Janet is saying. Those aren’t things that anyone in office is saying, to my knowledge, because they’re too afraid to actually say what they think. So, in that way, you continue to impress me.”

“And number two?”

“It makes me want to jump you…something fierce,” Bijal said in a throaty voice.

Colleen was nearly as startled as she was breathless. “Have I told you how much I love your candor?”

“Really?” Bijal seemed pleasantly surprised by the admission.

“Mmm-hmm, it’s nice not having to guess what you’re thinking.”

“Even when it’s terribly inappropriate?”

“Oh, especially then,” Colleen replied suggestively. Her heart was racing.

Bijal leaned closer. “You may be the only person in the world who appreciates that about me.”

“Perhaps that’s because you don’t share such complimentary information with everyone.”

“So if I’m saying something less pleasant, like ‘hey, asshole, you suck,’ that might be why it’s not well received?”

Colleen bit her thumbnail in amusement. “I think that hypothesis has merit, yes.”

“You have a great vocabulary, Colleen. It illustrates how deliciously brainy you are.”

“Hmm, you’re no slouch yourself. You know, we probably shouldn’t be so free with our praise of each other. We’re only making the tension more unbearable.”

“Are you implying that it’s not really a hundred ten degrees in here?”

Colleen nodded. “Exactly. You’re making it a bit of a challenge to keep this platonic—coming in here looking so sexy, filling your mouth with fish in the most provocative manner possible, then casually mentioning that you want to jump me.”

The corner of Bijal’s mouth quirked upward. “I didn’t realize that I was eating any particular way.”

“Oh, trust me, you are.” Colleen pushed her chair away from the table and picked up her water glass on her way into the kitchen. As she reached the refrigerator, she realized she was being a bad host. “I’m sorry, did you want more water?”

“Sure,” Bijal replied, standing to bring her glass over. “More ice would be great too.”

They shared smoldering eye contact until Colleen became suddenly self-conscious and pointed to the ice dispenser on the outside of the fridge. “Crushed or cubed?”

“Crushed, please.”

Colleen slid the switch over to the crushed setting and watched Bijal press her glass against the levers one at a time until her water glass was suitably refilled. Then Bijal raised the frosty beverage to her lips and drank. How she turned that simple act into something so erotic, Colleen wasn’t sure.

Colleen let her gaze drift down to Bijal’s neckline where just enough cleavage peeked out from her collar, enticing with the promise of breasts so remarkable that they might sing when her bra came undone. She then let her eyes wander to Bijal’s silver necklace, where the clasp had worked its way to the front, near the pendant.

“Make a wish,” Colleen said softly, setting down her glass and sliding the clasp around to behind Bijal’s neck.

Bijal looked both overwhelmed and out of breath. “I wish you’d just kiss me,” she whispered.

Colleen, for once, made no effort to stop and assess the ramifications of her actions. She didn’t weigh the pros and cons. She merely accepted the hushed entreaty and met Bijal’s lips with hers.

What initially felt foreign was, in an instant, sensual and sublime. She was captivated by the way Bijal’s mouth moved against her own, the way she nibbled at her lower lip. Colleen moaned instinctively as Bijal pulled away.

“Oh, my God,” Bijal rasped, out of breath. “Why did you do that?”

Colleen’s head was still spinning and adrenaline was shooting through her body like lightning. “You asked me to.”

“But if I’d known you kiss like that…I mean, how will I be able to think about anything else now?”

Colleen began kissing Bijal’s neck, unable to suppress the urge any longer. “You’re saying it was too good?” she murmured.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I didn’t realize there was any danger of that.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Maybe I can make it bad for you,” Colleen offered as she pulled back to see Bijal’s face.

“You think?”

“I’ll do my best,” Colleen said, pressing her lips once again to Bijal’s.

This time, Colleen encircled Bijal’s waist with her hands until they rested on her arresting bottom, which felt just as marvelous as she had imagined it would. Bijal’s mouth opened ever so slightly, which Colleen interpreted as an implicit invitation. She increased the pressure as her ardor began to utterly consume her. She slid her tongue past Bijal’s lips and was rewarded with Bijal’s tongue in return.

She wanted nothing more than to spend the next forty-eight hours this way—tasting Bijal and feeling all the sensations she evoked.

Bijal drew back again, the desire evident on her face. “You call that bad? I don’t think you were even trying to make that unpleasant.”

“Um…I thought I was. But that was pretty incredible, wasn’t it?”

“That was definitely in the top five kisses of all time,” Bijal replied, resting her head on Colleen’s shoulder and running her hand slowly down Colleen’s back. “We may have crossed that line.”

“Agreed,” Colleen said, enjoying their embrace.

“What do we do now?”

“Try, try again?”

Bijal grinned. “I like that you take pride in your work, I really do. But we should stop before this escalates into something hot, sweaty, and…carnal.”

“I’m sorry, was the word ‘stop’ somewhere in that sentence?”

Bijal’s eyes were dark and filled with hunger. “It was,” she whispered before kissing Colleen again, this time softly and briefly. “But when can we get together again?”

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