Georgia on my Mind {Part II}
The campaign arrived at the non-descript hotel in the pre-dawn hours. Staff members drag their exhausted bodies to their assigned rooms.
"Prayer breakfast at 5:00 am Cyrus," Olivia calls out.
"Great, I can already feel the holy water burning my pagan flesh," he jokes entering his room.
Olivia chuckles and stops in front of her door. She can feel the simmering heat from Fitz's body behind her.
"Just go in your room and we will pretend nothing happened," he offers without prompting.
She is at war with herself. Her head knows he is right but her heart and soul are alive for the first time. How does she walk away from the truth-Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III is the love of her life. She takes a deep breath and calls forth all her strength to enter her room.
Fitz watches the door close and he deflates. He knows he said the right thing and she did the right thing but it all feels so wrong. He enters his room at the end of the hall and slumps against the closed door. The ringing of his phone startles him out of his personal pity party. He looks at the caller id and his entire being vibrates with joy. "Hi," he answers in anticipation.
"Hi," her smoky voice responds. There is a palpable, electric connection as they hold their phones in silence. Olivia finally speaks, "Do not think for one moment that I do not want you…that I will not toss and turn tonight wondering how it would feel to give myself to you. But we have a real chance and we cannot waste the possibility of what we could be," she explains.
"So we are in this together…I am not alone? What I feel when I am with you-you feel it too?" he questions urgently.
"Yes, but everything is on the line. Not just the campaign… You said it yourself-we cannot sacrifice all of our integrity. Us-together cannot survive that kind of moral complication."
"You said us-together. We are The Team," he re-states emphatically. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
She is quiet. Cyrus will hate the new dynamic and fight back viciously.
Reading her mind, "Cyrus will learn to adjust," he concludes.
She laughs, "He definitely will not…it will be a fight, but I think we can handle him."
They return to comfortable silence. "Take off your clothes," Fitz commands.
"Excuse me," she exclaims.
"We are doing the right thing, but I will not leave you wondering…take off your clothes," he directs forcefully.
She turns the phone to speaker before placing it on the bed. "I am stepping out of my shoes and unzipping my pants so that they can fall to the floor. I am taking my hair down and unbuttoning my blouse. Now I am lying on the bed in my white bra and panties," her voice is low and seductive.
Fitz lies back on the bed resting his head on his bent arm. "I would caress every inch of your buttery soft skin…first with my hands and then with my mouth and tongue. I would gaze at your hot, wet core until you were panting with need. I would remove your wet, white panties with my teeth before plunging my dick into you with a firm deep stroke. I would bite your ripened nipples through your bra before removing the garment and suckling until you call for mercy. I would hold your thighs against my waist to maintain a deep, sensual rhythm. I would not stop. No matter how tight your walls squeeze me. I would not stop until your orgasms crash against each other and you die a million small deaths."
Olivia's panties are drenched and she is writhing on the bed, "Oh…my…God," she pants.
"Sleep tight Livvie," he disconnects the phone with a smile on his face.
Mellie is a prisoner in her hotel room. A horde of reporters are camped in the lobby waiting to attack with questions she cannot answer. She needs a plan and a team. She picks up her phone and dials, "You have to help me," she greets rudely.
"Well hello to you. Why would I help…you are toxic-which is bad for my brand."
"Look you bastard, I know every skeleton in the Grant family closet. If you do not help I will expose every single one. Not only will your boy lose the nomination but your Reagan like reputation will be ruined," she threatens.
"Fine, I will send someone but if I were you I would not get my hopes up. You thoroughly fucked yourself. What happened…How did he get his balls back?" Big Jerry chuckles in response.
"Shut up! I am warning you…If I don't have a new game plan by tonight I will be in front of the cameras in the morning," she disconnects the call.
A month or more later…
The campaign event at the local homeless shelter follows the standard script: photo op of serving meals and talking with program participants. Fitz was going through the motions when he noticed the young man with the basketball. He walks away from the pool of reporters. "What's up?" he greets.
The African American teenager responds with the typical head nod.
Fitz is not discouraged, "How about a game of 21?"
The young man shrugs from underneath his hoodie, "I guess." They make their way out of the side door.
They had been playing for almost thirty minutes when Cyrus interrupts, "Sir, we have a schedule…" he trailed off pointing to his watch.
"Move things around…I am about to school Quincy," Fitz's laughs in response.
"Yeah right old man," the teenager mocks.
The cameras are rolling and the reporters are buzzing. "Wow, I have never seen this version of Governor Grant." "This isn't an act." "Who knew this guy existed." "Man of the people-indeed." "If he is this free one month without the wife; imagine him during the general election." "This is definitely Grant 2.0."
Olivia stands back watching the scene unfold. This is who he really is-could he be anymore perfect.
The core campaign team enters the ballroom for the high donor fundraiser extremely late but the attendees still stand and cheer. The video of Fitz's pick-up basketball game went viral and garnered attention from unlikely Republican voters. #He's Got Game and #Grant 2.0 were trending and Millennials were taking notice. The Republican National Committee officials were excited. "Governor Grant may we have a moment?" the chairman waved him over.
"Gentlemen, so nice to see you again," Fitz greets politely.
"You have had a busy, unpredictable campaign thus far. The unfortunate incident with Mrs. Grant and the excitement of today," he offers as a conversation starter.
The vice chairman piled on, "I must say Cyrus is making some bold moves."
Fitz took a deep breath and assessed the group. The gray hair, standard blue suit with red tie-this was his father's party. He had no intention of playing the role they designed for him any longer. He thought carefully before speaking, "Actually, what you have witnessed is a result of my choices-alone. As far as the new strategy," he points across the room.
Olivia was engaging donors and charming the room effortlessly. "Olivia Pope, the finest political mind in the business."
The men glance over, "Really…Interesting," the each respond.
"Yes, she is extremely astute and I am lucky to have her," he replies. "Now, if you will excuse me I have some hands to shake," he exits the conversation.
The men turn to each other, "I wonder if Cyrus knows he is no longer in charge."
"This campaign will be entertaining to say the least," the other offers before they re-join the festivities.