Chapter 8

Twilight Zone

Olivia loosened her grip on the long stemmed glass. It was nearly empty of the wine Fitzgerald had poured her. It was a dark red, full bodied pinotage as he had explained when she mistook it for a pinot noir. Olivia hadn't cared what type of wine it was as long as it calmed her anxiety ridden nerves. To remove the unsettled feeling that had consumed her when she arrived at his door was the priority. The wine had done its job, taking the edge off her anxiety. Usually she steered clear of dark wines for fear they would trigger a migraine. Tonight, however, she'd chosen wine when he offered her a beverage.

She set the glass on the granite countertop, her eyes boring into his back as his muscles moved underneath his suit jacket. He stood at the sink rinsing the mixed greens in a stainless steel colander. Olivia wondered if he prepared their meal or if his salad making was orchestrated to give the appearance he was the preparer.

Who cooks in a suit? And why would he want to impress me? she thought, continuing to unabashedly assess his appearance from the back while wasn't looking.

Even though he was a couple of feet away, his presence filled the room. He was taller than she was but sitting at the counter on the high stool gave the illusion that they were much closer in height. The bottom of his suit jacket moved against his rear end as he shook the colander. She wanted to see this view of him without the suit jacket, how the fabric hung on his long form. The subtle fragrance of his cologne competed with the mouthwatering aroma of whatever was on the menu. What would he do if she encircled him with her arms around his waist and rested her chin in the crook of his neck? Would he be startled at her brazenness or would he turn around and give her that self-satisfied look of his before leaning forward to kiss her, his wet cold hands chilling her warm neck.

"Would you like more wine, Olivia?" he said turning his head slightly to look her way.

Startled, she jumped at his words, snatched out of her daydreaming. Perhaps the wine wasn't the best idea. Had it mellowed her out too much? She was there but obviously in an unfamiliar fog. Why was she thinking about him in this way? Sex was off the table and so should her thoughts. She set up a little straighter on the stool and decided to decline more wine and ask for coffee since she now needed something to take the edge off her apparent buzz.

She opened her mouth to answer but unintended words escaped. "Yes, please," she said, frowning at herself.

"I knew you'd like the taste of it based on your love of the coffee. It is a South African grape but it is also harvested in California," he said. Turning around with the lettuce filled colander and a towel, he walked to her and set it down across from her on the counter. After wiping his hands, he removed his suit jacket.

"I do like the flavor. It is fruity and rich. I don't usually drink reds, though…migraines," she answered, calmly, though her heartbeat elevated slightly when he removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the high backed stool.

"Oh yes…I remember how you suffered with one that first night I…um…brought you here," he said, with a slight grin, "but the coffee and a little rest helped to relieve it."

When he reached across the counter for her empty glass, Olivia willed her eyes to stay trained on anything but him as he walked back across the kitchen floor to the counter where the wine bottle rested. Since her thoughts and words were unpredictable tonight, she didn't want to look at him knowing where her eyes would surely land. Olivia looked anyway, beginning at his wavy hair. She lingered for a second catching sight of the small amount of skin visible between his hairline and collar. His broad shoulders tapered down to his waist bordered by a black leather belt. Her eyes drifted lower taking in his slightly rounded cheeks of his derriere moving in tandem against the fabric. His clothes weren't tight but they fit in the way only tailored clothes could as if they had been made to encase his body only. It gave her an accurate assessment of how his body was shaped under his clothing. She liked it. She couldn't decide which she found the most alluring, his shoulders, backside, or legs. Perhaps it was the combination of them all working together that won out.

"A couple of months ago, I read a study on migraines. They are pretty mysterious. The actress from Friends, Lisa…Lisa Kudrow…her father is a doctor who specializes in headache treatment. I heard her talking on NPR about it too…the more they learn the more they need to learn. Treatment is sort of hit or miss and different for each person…" he said.

Olivia heard the words he was saying, but she was more concerned with where her eyes would fall when he turned around.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. What the hell is wrong with me? Olivia wanted to see his front, particularly his crotch and how his clothes fit from that angle. It would be unfortunate if he saw her ogling him. Olivia felt like she was in the Twilight Zone where up was down, right was left, and she had no control over her actions or reactions.

Then he turned, arms outstretched, the full glass in one hand and the wine bottle in the other, unintentionally showcasing his body for her. His pectoral muscles tensed under his shirt. With a glance at his crotch, she saw the nice sized bulge that hinted at what lay beneath the fabric. Knowing that he was staring at her as he made his way back, Olivia's eyes snapped up to meet his eyes, hoping he didn't notice.

"I'm not sure what my triggers are. I've never taken the time to investigate. Instead I try to avoid the common ones," she said with a smile when he set the full wine glass in front of her.

When he walked back to the refrigerator, Olivia forced herself to look down at the wine glass. She moved it in a circle watching the liquid swivel around like a whirlpool. Olivia had no idea how she was going to make it through this dinner since some unknown sex-crazed woman had possessed her body.

He closed the refrigerator, she knew, because she heard the sound. Then he returned with tomatoes, cucumbers, red onions, and some other veggies that had been precut and proceeded to create the salad there before her eyes.

"Well, I've heard that orgasms relieve migraines but being asexual…that might not be an option for you unless…well…if you could bring yourself to be sexual for therapeutic purposes," he said.

Olivia took a small sip of wine and ignored his comment. "What is on the menu tonight? It smells delicious. Are you the chef or did you have it made?"

He stopped chopping and smiled for her. "Why don't you guess?" he challenged.

"I'll have to know what it is first," she replied.

"Filet mignon with mushroom wine red sauce, risotto with leeks, shitake mushrooms, and truffles, and haricot verts," he said.

Olivia closed her eyes and inhaled, pretending to do a smell test. In reality, she wanted to take a small break from him. The experience was too much.

"I'd say you had it made. Someone as busy as you this close to an election doesn't have time to date, much less prepare a complicated meal, add to that you probably wouldn't know how to cook this meal even if you had the time," she said matter-of-factly.

"You are correct, my dear, though my intentions were to cook you my one specialty dish, lasagna. When I realized I would have no time, I had this prepared for us. But I am making the salad so I do get about 25 percent of the credit," he said, "and if I haven't already told you, you look stunning tonight."

Stunning? I look stunning? Olivia thought as she looked assessed her reflection in the mirror. She was in his bathroom, having excused herself just after he announced that dinner was ready. He was out there now waiting for her in the dining room where the table was romantically set for two. There were two long candles and low light for intimate ambiance along with soft music playing in the background. Despite her reticence, she was enjoying herself, but ironically, she was more uncomfortable than she'd been in a very long time. How could pleasure and discomfort exist all at once?

She used one of the soft face cloths to dry her face after splashing cold water on it in hopes of a stark cool off. After reapplying her makeup and taking care of some other important things, she returned to the dining area.

"Are you okay, Olivia? You aren't in pain are you?" he asked, standing as she walked to her seat. He pulled her chair back and ushered it under the table.

Though the table was long, they were close. He'd put her at the head and he was just beside her to the right. It was intimate as they were able to sit across from each other and beside each other at the same time.

"I'm fine. Just needed to freshen up…" she said, smiling reassuringly.

They ate in silence for a few minutes except for the clink and clank of glass and silverware.

"Everything is delicious," she said, breaking the silence. She wanted to move the night along and silence seemed to slow it down.

Instead of of responding verbally, he smiled and popped a piece of steak in his mouth.

When did the act of eating become sexy? It was like her brain broke down every movement and translated it sexually. The fork disappearing into his mouth; his tongue snaking out from between his lips to catch a drop of sauce at the corner of his lips; the up and down motion of his mouth; the movement of the muscles in his jaw and temple as he chewed; his lips parting slightly for the wine glass and the way his Adam's apple moved when he swallowed. Olivia was totally alarmed at her thoughts. She had never had this reaction to anyone before. Unfortunately, her thoughts about him weren't the only symptom of what she could no longer ignore as sexual arousal. Her body was responding as well. Freshening up her makeup had not been the only thing she had done in the bathroom. The crotch of her panties was soaking wet. She was afraid it was going to seep through to her dress.

It was unbelievable and reminded her of something she'd witnessed on screen during one of the pornos she had watched at work as research for an instructional video her company had planned to produce in conjunction with a new product launch. The idea was to make the Euphoria video more sensual and educational than the caricatured sex of pornography. Her staff had snickered at the copious amounts of liquid a woman emitted during one scene while masturbating in front of her partners. They'd all accepted that it was staged like wrestling.

While she didn't have vaginal secretions flowing down her leg, she couldn't deny how wet she was, so much so that she had to wipe it away several times. It was not comfortable wearing wet underwear, but she had no choice, hoping nothing would seep through.

"So tell me about the campaign," she said, shifting in her chair and crossing her legs, "how is it c-coming…going?"

Fitzgerald set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his cloth. "The campaign is going well…despite what happened with that evangelical group. We were able to smooth it over. All the polls having me beating my opponent by 62 percent, though my chief of staff won't stop worrying until the final vote is cast. I'm pretty confident, but I'm prepared if it doesn't go my way. Speaking of politics, I think you would do well there. You seem to have a killer instinct and a knack for making people believe what you say even if it is false."

Olivia took the bait. "You are saying I'm a liar and a bitch" she said.

His eyes widened at her brash words. "I wouldn't call you a bitch, Olivia. You are shrewd and know how to get what you want. As for the lying….well yes, I think you will lie for expediency. But I get that under certain circumstances and in certain spheres like politics, business…lying is appropriate…or shall I say modifying the truth here and there. In relationships, though, I know that lying is toxic," he explained.

Olivia took two hearty forkfuls of food, taking time to chew between them. "I guess that is a fair assessment, Fitz. I lied to you, deliberately deceived you to protect my business interests. No disagreement there," she said, taking a sip of wine.

Fitz looked at her for a long time but didn't immediately respond. She could tell he wanted to say something in response to her words, but he held back.

"Looks like you are done with your meal. Do you have room for dessert? It's sorbet. I have strawberry, peach, and lemon lime. You can choose one or I can bring you a little of all three," he explained.

"I think I'll take the peach," she said.

Fitzgerald rose from the table and collected their dishes. She tried to help him but he stopped her with his hand. His arm brushed her shoulder and she shuttered, immediately rolling her eyes from one side to the other in frustration at what she considered some newly appearing weakness.

"I'll be right back. Meet me in the living room. We can eat in there," he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut when he left, refusing to stare at his butt again. She saw it anyway in her imagination when she closed her eyes.

Sitting on the sofa staring at the freesias he gotten for her, she wondered if he would try to kiss her tonight. Could she take that without fainting like some romance novel cliché? As the moments, ticked by and her panties stayed wet, she began to resent Fitz as if he were responsible for her attraction to him, like it was his fault.

"I think you'll like the sorbet. The ultra creamy texture makes it taste a little like pudding, but it is still wet enough to be a sorbet. Peach was the right choice. It tastes just like a real peach without the fuzz of course," he said, extending a glass bowl full of two healthy scoops of sorbet garnished with a green leaf sitting atop and glass saucer.

"Thank you," she said, taking it from him, careful not to brush against his fingers.

"How is the dating going? I remember you saying how you needed to get back out there now," she said.

"I don't know. You tell me. How is tonight going? You are the extent of my dating pool right now," he said, taking a seat next to her on the couch and placing his one scoop filled bowl on the table next to the flowers.

Olivia raised her eyebrows, exhaled, and shook her head. "No, I am serious, Fitz, and curious," she said. Olivia really wasn't curious. She didn't care who he was dating. This was her effort to move things along.

"You are the only woman I am dating, Olivia Pope, to the consternation of Cyrus because of your line of work, but I have told him that I will be the decider in chief when it comes to my love life. Before my wife was diagnosed with cancer, we weren't on the best of terms, but we made amends and she made me promise to go after what I wanted instead of letting my job dictate every aspect of my life. That had been part of our marital problems, living for the political party, the donors, and the camera," he explained.

Olivia set her bowl of sorbet next to his on the table. He was sitting too close for comfort. The sofa's armrest prevented any retreat. She looked down at her hands and then met his stare. She could she and feel the measured fall and rise of her chest signaling her breathing. Why wasn't he breathing like he was cooling down from a workout? She let a little laugh escape her lips.

"Governor Grant, you called me a liar. Well, you are an arrogant, entitled…politician who thinks he can kidnap women or coerce them into dating him. I am not a liar and you can't force me to date you. I offered you sex. You declined. So I offered you this one dinner and now you are expecting it to happen again and again—" she said, getting angry at the small smirk on his face.

"You say politician as if it is a bad word, but yes, I am arrogant…to hold public office requires a healthy dose. Entitled? Hmm. No, I'm not entitled. I realize the value of hard work and know anything that's worth having will demand some sweat equity. Yes, I did tell someone to take you against your will to meet with me, but I didn't force or coerce you to date me. And, I'll take back what I said, you are not liar, but my dear, you have lied to me on several occasions and I know you will continue to do so for expediencies sake," Fitz said. He reached for his spoon and scooped up some sorbet for himself.

She watched him slowly remove the spoon from his mouth and repeat his movements. This time he held the sorbet to her mouth. When she parted her lips, an audible exhaled breath escaped. He didn't move the spoon so she leaned forward, slipping her mouth over the cold concoction. Her eyes closed as she took it on her tongue and pulled back. She didn't open her eyes until the sorbet melted in her mouth and she swallowed it all down.

Olivia reached for the back of her neck and squeezed, stretching from side to side. It was uncomfortable sitting in this small space facing him like this.

"Other than pretending to be someone I'm not, which we both know I did and admitted to, I have not lied to you, Governor Grant—"

"I would insist you call me Fitz, but I'm beginning to like the sound of you calling me Governor Grant," he interjected. "But to answer your question, you are pretending to be asexual because you think I only wanted to date you because of your job as if that gives you some special sexual edge over another woman. I will admit that I was intrigued when I found out what you did, but I was interested in you even as Mary Joseph. I liked you then. I was attracted to you then. I hadn't planned to act on it, but I was attracted nonetheless. To find out you were a fraud angered me initially, but it excited me as well since I would get to see you again," he said.

"How dare you challenge my sexuality!" she said.

"You've been so busy checking me out tonight, Olivia, that you didn't notice I was doing the same to you. You must be a different kind of bisexual, asexual and heterosexual, all wrapped in one," he challenged.

Olivia stood to her feet, "I have to go. I won't sit here and listen to you insult me." She didn't feel any indignation. But she was going to take heed to what her instincts were telling her. She needed to get out of here before she did something irreversible.

He stood as well, "Don't go, Olivia. You haven't touched the sorbet."

She backed away from him and walked to the foyer table to gather her purse and jacket. She sent a quick text to Ben.

"I could drive you home," he offered.

"No, it is fine," she said, letting him help her into her jacket.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the sofa. "You can at least finish your sorbet while you wait."

Olivia resisted and pulled him in the other direction towards the door's entrance. It was dark there. He reached for the light switch thinking she wanted to exit.

She pulled his hand back. "No," she said, "leave it off."

He frowned, confused until she guided him up against the wall. She leaned into him rising up on her toes since her high heals didn't quite make her tall enough to kiss him without his cooperation. When he realized what she was doing, it was quite easy. He leaned down and their lips met. His lips felt cold and firm. Warmth quickly came as they suckled on each other's lips exchanging the top for the bottom. When Olivia felt his tongue, she parted her lips and let her tongue meet, his rubbing against his. He tasted of peach sorbet and a hint of wine. Olivia felt a blinding rush of desire flow through her body. She held on tighter pulling her arms together until his neck was in the crook of her inner elbows. He picked her up and exchanged places with her, pushing her against the wall while their tongues competed for depth.

She ground her hips into thigh needing something to calm the ache between her legs. But it did not help. All she felt was a gushy wetness. She unwrapped one arm from his neck and grabbed his hand trying to shove it between her legs. But it didn't work. He ran his hand over her cheeks and squeezed, but he didn't move under her dress. She reached back lifted the hem of her dress. Fitz seemed to understand what she wanted, finally. He slipped his hand under her dress and kneaded her posterior. When he finally slipped his hands under her panties, Olivia gasped until he took her mouth in another bruising kiss. Her breath came quickly in anticipation of him touching her core.

"You are dripping… wet—" he said as his fingers waded through it all.

They both froze when the doorbell sounded. The fog of desire cleared enough for Olivia to realize what was happening. She pulled his hand out of her underwear and righted herself stepping away from him. He let her go and walked to the door. Looking through the peephole, he said. "It's your driver who has extremely bad timing and when do drivers meet you at the door?" he asked not masking his irritation as he looked back at her.

Olivia nodded her head cuing him to open the door.

"Yes, how can I help you?" Fitz said, asking an unnecessary question.

"I'm looking for Ms. Olivia Pope. I'm her driver, Ben," he said.

Fitz stepped back so Olivia could pass by. "Olivia…" he said.

She smoothed her dress down and walked forward to leave. She knew she couldn't just exit stage left from this drama, especially after what had just transpired, without some expectation from him. "Thanks for dinner," she said, hoping that would be enough for him for now.

He caught her hand and turned her around to face him. Bending forward, he whispered in her ear, "You can't dismiss me, Olivia. Your body won't let you." Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Olivia turned around and followed Ben to the car. When she was settled in her seat, she ventured a glance back up at Fitz's door. He stood in the same place, one arm crossed over his midsection and the other arm bent at the elbow resting on his hand. His fingers were splayed across his nose and mouth as if he were in deep thought. Olivia thought for a second and remembered which of his hands she'd shoved in her panties. She quickly looked away when she realized he was giving her a silent sexual signal of remembrance of where his hands had been and what they had found, the evidence of which was still on his hands.

"Childish," she whispered as Ben drove off.

Even though Olivia hadn't ever been that intimate with a man in her adult life, she didn't let the encounter consume her thoughts once she got home. She checked her e-mail, looked at some reports, and returned a phone call from Abby about rescheduling a meeting with a supplier. By 11:30 she was in bed occupied by her thoughts which returned earlier that night. Playing and replaying her quasi date with Fitzgerald Grant. Though she wouldn't admit it, she had expected him to call her if only just to tease her about being the aggressor and practically attacking him at the door.

Olivia knew she was going to talk with Dr. Chase about it. Why did she react to him this way? Why was she so seemly attracted to him?

She looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. She looked at her phone. He hadn't called or sent a text. This made her very angry. Before she could stop herself she had dialed him. Instantly, she knew that had been a bad idea when she heard his voice.

"Hello, Olivia."

"I bet you are pleased with yourself," she accused.

He had the never to chuckle. "Pleased with myself? For what? Tell me."

"She who claimed to be asexual kissed you first and then shoved your hand down her panties," she said.

"No, I would have been more pleased had Ben not showed up for at least 20 minutes or at all. When he left, I was in misery, hard as a rock with your scent all over my hands and the knowledge that you were that wet and I could do absolutely nothing about it. To top it off, one of my kids called shortly thereafter needing a listening ear because he was arguing with his girlfriend. I mumbled some advice which I can't remember now. I took a cold shower but only masturbating gave me some relief. I'm sorry if my saying that offends you, Olivia. I'm just being honest," he said.

Olivia held the phone. She didn't know what to say since she was out of her element here. She had taken a hot shower earlier and tried to ignore her lingering arousal. It didn't let up though. She was still wet, opting to forgo underwear with her nightgown.

"You are lucky, Olivia. You have access to state of the art sex toys. I only have my hand. But I'm glad you called me tonight. This is a pleasant surprise. When can I see you again? We didn't get to talk as much as I wanted. I have so much I want to know about you," he said.

She wanted a snappy comeback or a witty way to turn him down, but she only managed to say, "How about lunch tomorrow if you are free and want to be seen with me out in public?"

"Really? Yes, Olivia. I don't know what is on my schedule, but I will make it happen. Give me a ball park time," he said anxiously.

"Between 11:00-1:30 or 2-3, I'm available," she said, knowing her schedule cold.

"Okay, I'll be in touch," he said, "Good night."

"Good night," she said.

When Olivia disconnected the line, she thought about what he'd said. She wouldn't know where to start if she wanted to masturbate. She considered pulling out a product sample, but talked herself out of it, knowing she would feel foolish. Instead she shoved one of her small pillows between her legs and tried to fall asleep.