General Election Night
Sally Wainwright "borrowed" from William Shakespeare and I have "borrowed" from Sally, but without Rufus and Shirley, there would be no point at all.
I wrote the basic outline of this piece before the UK general election, just a few lines, then like Topsy, it just growed.
I am sure Sam Cameron and Sarah Brown were as supportive of David and Gordon as Petruchio is of Kate, if not as calm or cheeky!
I owe thanks to my friend Kerry for her creation of "a Petruchio moment" phrase which she used to advise me in a moment of stress since when we have come to use it regularly.
This story is a bit on the steamy side, it is the story of a very much-in-love couple, so if you think this might offend you, please don't read it.
The Song The wind beneath my wings
The singer the Divine Bette Midler
GENERAL ELECTION NIGHT
It was late, very late, almost two a.m. and they hadn't been home long.
They sat in silence in the big squashy armchairs on either side of the fire place in their Chelsea home, the room lit only by two pools of light from the table lamps and the flicker of the fire.
She sat as she usually did, shoes kicked off, her feet tucked under her, holding a glass of whisky. He slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched out, watching his whisky as he swirled it around.
She watched him from under her lashes thinking about the day that had gone. They had spent the day at party H.Q, or her constituency offices or visiting polling stations, till at last they were at Chelsea town hall for the announcement of her results.
She had retained her seat with a vastly increased majority.
He had been with her all through the day, behind her, watching, ready with whatever she needed, almost before she knew herself.
A rock, there in the background, supporting her in every way but quietly, unobtrusively. Not his style, she smiled to herself, not his usual noisy talkative boisterous self at all.
Now, they waited to hear the first indications of how the country voted.
The phone rang.
She moved to take it but he was there before her.
"Hello...oh, hello ...yes ...she's here ... No, not yet...yes"
"It's John," he said handing her the phone.
"Hello John ...yes ...yes ...thank you ...hmmm...yes, I think we will...Yes. Thank you John. 'night."
He took the phone from her and replaced it, stretching out again in his chair
"John said it looks like a land slide."
He smiled. "Didn't expect any less."
He took a mouthful of whisky and closed his eyes.
She took the pins out of her hair and pulling it loose, leant her head back and closed her eyes. They were both tired. It had been a long day.
There were the little ones to get up and ready. Although they had a nanny and plenty of help, they were both determined that the boys ' routine would be disturbed as little as possible, that they would not miss Mummy and Daddy.
The children were theirs, theirs to love and care for. They had said that from the minute she knew she was pregnant, though their roles were reversed! She would have her career and he would care for the babies ...and he had stood by that. Everything he had said, everything he had promised, he had done.
Someone ... Was it Harry?... had said, when they were first married, that he was emotionally immature, that he would never grow up, never be more than six years old.
How wrong could anyone be?
Oh, he had a child like quality about him but that's what it was, a child's love of fun, childlike not childish, a child's love of fun, love of life. He could roll and play on the floor with the babies without an atom of inhibition.
She loved him so much. He had so much zest for life, vitality, full of laughter, gave her so much joy... The strength and love with which he had surrounded her, the support and encouragement the generosity of spirit, how would she have managed without him?
He had told her once that he would conquer kingdoms for her. He had done more; he had stood by and helped her to do it.
Before they met, she had never thought she would have this in her life.
Her career had been all important.
It still was, she was still fiercely ambitious but she knew now that if it ever came to a choice, she could, would give it all up for him and the babies without a single thought.
She also knew that it was something she would never have to do, he would never ask her.
Oh, they still fought, bickered, argued and while she knew she was pretty smart, he could be three jumps ahead of her when he choose.
His choice of clothes... and makeup! ... at times, could still infuriate her although it was less often these days. He still teased and tormented her. And she could still lose her temper but the stability she had now, came from him. She now took what she called
"a Petruchio moment"
Do it or don't do it. Keep it simple.
Stop. Think. Do it or don't do it, always keep it simple... but don't go on and on ... and don't lose your temper.
He had a temper too, but he could control it better than she and when they fought ...they fought spectacularly and the making up was ...spectacular too.
But if she had to choose of all the men in the world, she would choose him. The best, the truest, most loving. Her beloved.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was so beautiful, his straight nose, his cheekbones and sculptured mouth, his lovely laughing eyes, though he never seemed to be aware of his looks.
His black curly hair had glints of silver now.
"Will you cope?" she asked.
He looked at her, quizzically.
"Will I cope with being a house husband at Number 10? Or... do you mean will I cope with you running the country, being a world leader, hobnobbing with Her Majesty and the great and the good?"
She had closed her eyes again but he could see her lips were pressed together and the two little dimples had appeared that told him she was trying not to laugh.
"Will you?"
"Ooh! I think so...if you come home throwing your weight around after swanning around the world, I shall have make sure you know who's the master of this house."
"And how do you propose doing that?"
"Oh... I shall just rip your knickers off and shag you. "
The dimples had appeared again."Is that a promise?
His eyes glinted emerald in the firelight.
"Yes... In fact I think I might come over and do it right now. Just to show you your place. "
"Come on then" she said, "or are you all talk?"
Kicking off his shoes, he took a mouthful of whisky, swishing it around his mouth, swallowed, and holding her eyes all the time. He loosened his tie, took it off, and stood, slipping off his jacket and then his shirt.
He crossed to her and knelt in front of her pushing her jacket off, then pulling her thin white silk tee shirt over her head. Her hair fell over her face as it always did and he pushed it gently behind her ear as he always did.
"How does it feel to be the world's most powerful woman?"
"I'm not. Theoretically, the Queen is. I will be the Queen's Prime Minister. "
"But you will hold the power."
"I can be kicked out, the Queen can't ... well she can but it's extremely unlikely, isn't it?"
He took off her bra and cupped her breasts.
We'd better make the most of this, while we can." he said. "We are not going to be able to do it much longer."
She looked questioningly at him.
He sat back on his heels.
"Well, when we move to No.10 or Chequers, we won't be able to shag in front of the fire... you will have a police guard, even here or down at Hazlington... 24 hours a day, seven days a week, inside and outside of the door, 24 hour staff ...in and out, barely stopping to knock."
He smiled ruefully at her.
"Strictly in bed with the door locked."
She wrinkled her nose at him.
"I'm sure you will find out somehow, sometime, you always do." she murmured.
He laughed.
"I'm not that good, baby. Not up against MI5, MI6, the Special Branch and Christ! The British Civil Service. Besides which, there are those three little subversives who manage to disrupt everything at any time of the day or night."
"Like father, like sons! Are you complaining because your sons are like you?"
"No! Not at all! It's just that I would sometimes like to shag their mother without them interrupting."
"Well, they are not interrupting now, so what are you bloody waiting for?"
"What do you want?"
She slid off her chair and onto his lap.
"Everything." she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, rubbing it with her tongue. She pushed him onto his back and straddling his thighs, unzipped his pants and freed his erect cock. He stroked her back and around the curves of her hips. Her little hands caressed him, cupped his balls and bending her head, she pressed the tip of her tongue into the slit of his knob.
"Kate" his voice was rough in his throat."Kate, Kate."
"Let's get the rest of your things off." He lifted her off him for her to wriggle out of them then she watched him while he stripped off his pants. He lay beside her propped on one elbow. Her hands slipped through his hair, around his ears to his shoulders, over his back, he was so broad, and he felt so big against to her.
He let his hand run over her.
She held her breath.
Even after nearly four years of marriage, his touch still left trails of fire on her skin. Down, he stopped, and then slowly let his fingers run along the scar left by the Caesarean section.
It was something he always did now when they made love. A reminder, he had said. Of how much he had, how much he had to lose. Of how terrified he had been during the Caesar, that he might lose her.
Oh! they had said there was no risk. An elective procedure, purely a precaution. It was safer for the three babies and for her, they said, than a prolonged labour, but he had been terrified, so desperately frightened... Alone in that hospital corridor, in the small hours of the night. Standing, his fore head pressed again the cold wall, waiting...
His mouth came down on her nipple, licked, and sucked till she was breathless.
"And the other one," she murmured, his hand moved and he worked them both stroking squeezing sucking licking till she was moving under him.
They whispered,
"I want"
"What?"
"You know!"
"I want you to tell me."
"I want... Don't stop... I want ...I want your mouth sucking, your tongue licking my breast, your hand on my other breast playing with it, rolling my nipple, rubbing it and ... O God I want ..I want your other hand down in me. I want to spread my legs wide for you to touch me, please ...please ...I want it so much... "
She was hot and wet to his touch as he moistened his fingers in her before moving up to her clit.
It already was swollen and he circled it again and again. The soft sounds she was making arousing him further.
"Kate, Kate, touch me, I want you to touch me...touch my cock."
He eased himself away and she pushed her hand down to grasp his shaft, sliding up and down the soft velvet hardness of him. Featherlight strokes on his balls.
He shuddered and shivered, turning lowered his head; put his mouth on her, his lips moving against her.
"Do you want this?"
She could only nod so he kissed and rubbed her clit with his lips, licked and sucked her till he slipped his tongue in her.
"Shall I come in you now?" he breathed against her throat.
"Mmm" it was barely a sound.
"How do you want it?"
"Any goddamn way you want but do it, do it, oh do it my love".
He said "This way" and took her, paused inside her and brushed her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
"I love to look at you when I'm in you, when you're coming. Your lovely face. Oh Kate you are so beautiful."
He moved in her slowly at first, then caging her hips with his arms lifting her to him, thrust harder and faster until they were both gasping soft wordless sounds, she arching to receive him, her thighs rubbing against his ribs with each thrust till he came, groaning with the ecstasy and taking her with him into a breathless climax, their skin gleaming with sweat in the firelight.
He turned to curl her into him, holding her, resting his head on hers.
"Well" she murmured, rubbing her face against his chest. "How does it feel to fuck the most powerful woman in the world?"
"I don't know" he said "I was fucking my love and she was fucking me."
She kissed his chest softly.
Then she said "Everything is going to be OK? Isn't it?"
He smiled into her hair.
"Why shouldn't it be?"
"I don't mean us and the babies... I know we will be alright... I mean the Government, running the country?"
"You getting doubts?"
"Well...no... but I just wanted...I wanted you to...oh hell !"
"You want me to tell you that you can do it?"
"Well... No... I know ... Yes, that's what I...I suppose. .."
"Kate, you know you can do anything you put your mind to."
"Yes..."a slight uncertainty still in her voice.
"Yes! And now, it's quarter to four... I think we should go to bed!"
"Will you carry me?"
"YES PRIME MINISTER."
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A little bit of an "In" joke between Piers and Kate, YES PRIME MINISTER is a catch phrase which ended each episode of "Yes Prime Minister" a hugely successful comedy series. This and its predecessor "Yes Minister" involved battles of wits between a Minister, later Prime Minister, and his senior Civil Servant. Highly sophisticated, it starred Paul Eddington as the Minister, and Nigel Hawthorne as the Civil Servant. Both now very sadly missed.
