Rick Santorum nervously walked, clipboard and pen in hand, to Elizabeth Warren's office. He always tried to be as masculine and hawkish as possible around people in his own party, but when it came to Senator Warren, that manly facade just fell apart. Like the Soviet Union in 1991, Senator Santorum's masculinity just collapsed when he was around her. Yes, there was just something about Senator Warren that always made him weak in the knees. "You can do it, Rick," he said to himself. "You're just asking her a question, that's all."

As soon as he opened the door, he tripped, fell to the floor, and dropped his pen. He looked up and saw Senator Warren, and his heart stopped. Her beautiful blue eyes and (slightly graying) blonde hair made him melt. Sweat dripped down his face as he saw how Warren's suit framed her body, accentuating her voluptuous curves. Still starstruck, he managed to stammer a few words as he stood back up.

"H-h-hello, Senator Warren. Good a-afternoon."

She chuckled. "Good afternoon, Senator Santorum. What can I do for you?"

"Well...uh, I was wondering if I could, uh, get your support in voting against the, uhm, gun control bill that Senator Booker proposed."

Senator Warren eyed the (relatively) young senator standing before her, up and down. She zeroed in on the large bulge in his pants. She had, of course, heard the stories about Rick Santorum. She had heard from Nancy Pelosi about Rick Santorum's incredible stamina in the bedroom. She heard all the rumors from all the female Congresswomen about the size of the weapon Rick Santorum was packing in his pants. And she wanted this more than ever these days, because like a North Korean rocket, Senator Warren's husband just couldn't get it up. Senator Warren licked her lips. Rick Santorum had a weapon of mass destruction in his pants, and Senator Warren wanted arms control.

Senator Warren answered his question with another question. "How's Mrs. Santorum doing?" she asked curiously.

The question took him by surprise. "Uh, er, she-she's doing fine," he said. "W-we've been fighting quite a bit lately, though, and we're not on the best of terms right now. W-why do you ask?"

She thought for a moment. "Hmm...how about this?" she said with a wicked smile. "Come to my office later at 9pm, when all the other congressmen have gone home for the night. We'll talk about this gun control bill then."

She winked at him. He loosened his collar and sweat nervously. He knew the game she was playing at, and he wasn't sure what to do. Yet at the same time, he couldn't pass up the chance. He looked back at her again. She was like a socialist Aphrodite to his lovestruck eyes. And he wanted to spread his wealth all over her. With a body like that, how could Rick Santorum pass up the chance?

"Um, ok, uh, yes, I-I'll be there," he said sheepishly. "See you later tonight then, Senator Warren."

"Please," she said. "Call me Elizabeth."

He went into the elevator.

"Rick." She said.

"Elizabeth" he said.

The elevator doors closed.