"So, Frank, you work for Karl Rove? What's your background?", I asked.
Frank explained that he was a graduate of Princeton with a degree in Political Science and had attended Yale Law. He was one of the young political class flocking to Washington, with no experience outside of Washington or the Ivy League. His job with Karl Rove was his first job. He was 25.
I nodded as he told me this. "Okay, first things first, you no longer work for Karl Rove. You work for me now. Is that understood?"
"How ... am I on your Congressional staff?"
I shook my head. "When we land, get Brewster McRiley on the phone and I'll handle it from there. You'll technically be on the staff of McRiley Associates. You have a problem with that?"
"Uh, no sir, why would I?"
I eyed him curiously. Was he naïve or dumb? "Let me be very explicit. You do not talk to Karl Rove from here on in without clearing it with me first. I am guessing you got orders from him to give him a daily report on what I was up to?" Frank turned beet red at that. He'd be a lousy poker player. "I'll take your silence as a yes. No more. You work for me, not Karl. Is that understood, or do we need to part ways?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir, which?", I pushed.
"Yes, sir, I understand. What's the problem with Mister Rove?"
"No problem, but Karl Rove doesn't work for me and doesn't have my best interests at heart. I pay Brewster, and as long as my checks clear, he stays loyal to me. Karl Rove ain't loyal to me. You following this?"
"I follow you sir. Uh, how do I contact Mister McRiley?"
"Figure it out, Frank!"
Marilyn had been listening to us, and she reached across the aisle and swatted at me. "Will you behave!?" She turned to Frank and said, "Get a pen and pad and I'll give you a few numbers." He scrambled and pulled a pen and notepad out, and Marilyn read off some numbers from her cell phone. She gave him Brewster's, but also Marty's and mine, and the numbers for my offices in D.C., and the ones for the campaign and the local Westminster office for the Maryland Ninth, and several others.
I chuckled at all this, and then said, "Now, when we land, I want you to get yourself a room over in Parkton, and rent a car. We'll get somebody to give you a lift over. Make sure you keep receipts for everything. Always have at least a grand in cash in your wallet, mostly twenties and fifties. You'd be amazed how much easier things work when you deal in cash. You can take tomorrow off, since it's Sunday, but be at our house early Monday morning. I might be on sick leave, but I still need to work."
Frank kept jotting down notes. The next few months would either break him or make him. We'd have to see which.
Marilyn asked me, "You really have to work this week? You need to rest. Doctor Shooster said you needed to rest."
"It will be a working vacation. You need to finish whatever they have you doing with the convention speech, and I have to write one of my own. I started one, but just don't like it.", I told her.
Frank popped up at that. He shuffled through a briefcase and handed me a manila envelope. "Here's your speech, Congressman. Mister Rove gave this to me to give to you."
I eyed the envelope curiously. Up until now, all of my speeches I had written myself, although I had frequently gotten some input and editing assistance from my staff. Now I was going to give a speech written by somebody else. "Who wrote it?"
"Mister Scully." I gave him a blank look. I knew Mike Gerson was the chief writer for Bush, but wasn't aware of the second tier yet. "Matthew Scully, he works for Mister Gerson."
"Well, give it here, let me read it."
I took the envelope and opened it to read it. The best speechwriters would write for the speaker's voice, using his tone and his style and his substance. The worst would simply slap some shit together. This was about in the middle. It wasn't just slapped together, but it was obviously written for somebody else. It was also rather generic. I was going to have to write my own speech and incorporate what I could of this one. I needed to give the speech of a lifetime; this one wasn't that. It was okay, but I wanted more.
I started reading, but drifted off and slept most of the trip back to Westminster. We had some limos and vans waiting for us when we landed. As we walked off the plane, Marilyn said, "You need to rest. You look pale."
"If you are going to play nurse, shouldn't you get one of those little nurse's costumes?"
"OH, THAT'S SO GROSS!", yelled Molly.
"THAT'S ... I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!", screamed her sister. "LA ... LA ... LA...", she sang out loudly.
Marilyn and I looked at each other and grinned. Neither of us had known they were within earshot.
My entire traveling circus went over to the house, and then I sent most of them off to either find some motel rooms nearby or simply to go home and rest. I was still tired, and needed to rest for a bit. I told Marilyn I wanted to sit in my chair for a bit, but she pushed me down the hall into the bedroom. I did give the girls a few orders, but simply to get the puppy situated and sorted out, and to unpack and relax. They needed some down time as much as I did.
I sat down on the bed and kicked off my shoes. I looked at my wife and smiled. "You never did answer me about the nurse's costume."
"GROSS!", she said mimicking her daughters, making me laugh.
I stretched out on the bed and eyed her invitingly. I had been away from home for too long.
Marilyn grinned and closed our bedroom door, flipping the lock. "Would you prefer me to wait until I went out and got the outfit?"
"It's not all that critical to the healing process."
She came closer and spoke seductively in my ear. "How about I simply take off my clothes and suck your cock? Think that will help you heal up some?"
My temperature must have risen at that, among other things. "It's an excellent start! I'll probably need some additional treatments like that later on, too."
"We'll see. You're not as young as you used to be. You might not be able to handle the treatment!" I snorted derisively at the comment. Marilyn did a quick little striptease in front of me and then undid my pants and pulled them down to my knees. Then she knelt by my good side and went down on me. I ran my good hand over her naked back, and then, as I got closer, ran my fingers through her hair and kept her head in place. I sighed happily as she got me off, and swallowed me down.
She sat up on the bed and wiped her lips on the back of her hand. I smiled and said, "Nurse, I'm feeling better now, but I think I need another treatment."
Marilyn giggled and said, "Sorry, but that will have to wait. Your insurance won't cover multiple treatments." I swatted her bare behind and she scampered into the bathroom and cleaned up and brushed her teeth, and then slipped into a simple halter top sundress. I had my own pants pulled back up by the time she came back and she helped me with the belt and zipper.
Before she left, I slipped a hand under her dress and ran my fingers up to her pussy, to find that she was going commando. "I like the way you nurses dress when you're off duty." She just laughed and told me to get some sleep.
It was late when I woke up, after dinner, in fact, and I went to the bathroom and cleaned up some before limping out to the living room. Marilyn was watching Wheel of Fortune while the girls were teasing Stormy with an old sock. She came over and sniffed at me, and then headed over towards a corner. "Grab her! She needs to go outside!", I yelled at them, and they picked her up and ran her out the patio door.