No one really knows, but CJ has a thing for taboos.
It feels good to break them.
And doing this, being here, with him, means breaking the biggest taboo of them all.
It all started when she was ten, and sneaked a cigarette out of her older brother's room.
CJ wasn't doing this because the kids at school would think it was "cool"; she wasn't going to brag with it. In front of whom, anyway?
She did it because her Dad had said that, swear to God, if he ever caught her smoking, ever, her butt would wish it had never been born. She sneaked it out of her brother's room one night, when he was at the movies with his new, dumb, pretty, petite girlfriend, because of the sign on his door that was drawing her in like a flame drew the moth.
Entrance Forbidden.
CJ smoked the cigarette under a bridge, after school, alone, and never told a living soul. She never lit a second cigarette either. It's just no good breaking the taboo twice. And besides, smoking really wasn't what it had been made out to be.
She's not quite sure yet what taboo she is breaking by being in this room with him, alone, after hours.
He's older. Big deal. She dated that fifty-and-something guy for a week, during her final year at Berkley. And that was about six days too long. CJ doesn't get the fuss they make about older men. They're men, and they're old. All that means is that they had more time to screw other women before they screwed CJ. No more older men, just because they're old. That taboo is broken.
He's powerful. Well, it's not exactly taboo to date a guy who's powerful, right?
He's the boss, but CJ's pretty much sure that that's not it either. She's had a short, a very short fling with her boss when she was on her second job. Another taboo she's not keen on breaking twice. It only makes everyone uncomfortable, and as a self-respecting woman, CJ abhors the very suggestion that she slept her way up the professional ladder.
Then there's his wife. God. CJ's been doing so well at banning his wife from her thoughts because, really, she's not that kind of woman. The thrill of seeing a wedding ring on the other's hand hasn't gripped her since ten years ago, and even then, it wasn't quite worth it. That's another sad truth. Most taboos just aren't worth it.
So what is she doing here, with her boss who should be upstairs with his wife instead of sitting on the couch in CJ's office? What is she doing here, watching him smoke a cigarette, smiling at his boyish glee that he snuck it past the Secret Service and into the building? And what is she doing, following his hand as he pulls her next to him onto the couch, and kissing his neck, softly, slowly, again?
CJ doesn't break a taboo twice. Never has.
Until now.
And she's wondering why.
Coming to think of it, it might be that when she's with him, he's asking her what she, what CJ thinks, about that weird new Modern Art exhibit in New York, or how she likes his tie, and truthfully if you please.
This is the one place where she cannot misspeak, because there is nobody who's going to be pissed, or who's going to take her words and run with them. CJ has learned that words are weapons, and that they are always pointed at someone. Mostly at her, and him.
But not here. Here, words are a quick breeze, a gentle caress, and they never do any harm.
And CJ thinks that this is it. Not having a line to say, giving her honest opinion, and screw the consequences.
Breaking down completely, holding nothing back, and not being the Press Secretary for a few short moments.
Being just CJ.
CJ's sure that this is it. Because nowadays, there seems to be no greater taboo than that.
A/N: I swear to God, I don't own The West Wing. I don't even fantasize about owning it. Most of the time. But sometimes, it just grabs me and I have to play with it. Sorry if it has offended your eyes.
Reviews are very much welcome!