"By weather I mean the interaction of natural forces; the effects of winter's cold and summer's heat"

The Art of War — Sun Tzu

"The Art of War" is one of Bruno's favorite books. It shouldn't surprise me. What does surprise me is that about the fifth time he made me read it on this road trip, it finally made sense as to why. The whole exercise reminded me of being forced to read Karl Von Clausewitz's "On War" in a foreign policy class I took at Harvard. I have long applied many of Clausewitz's military observations to political strategy.

Clausewitz maintains that the use of military force is simply the extension of a nation's foreign policy, the desire of a State to force another State to do its bidding. Foreign policy in the United States of America is influenced by political pressures here at home. Thus, one can postulate that politics is war.

If you put the two of them together, you get a hell of a guide to military (or political) strategy.

A key element to waging war, according to Sun Tzu, is weather. It is my personal opinion that the Republicans have infiltrated the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA, the fine folks behind the National Weather Service). Once in control there, they fiddled with the nation's thermostat in an attempt to use heat stroke to kill Bruno and I. Thereby depriving President Bartlet of two generals in his reelection bid.

Everywhere Bruno and I have been in the past two weeks has been in the middle of a never-ending heat wave that is, inexplicably, leaving a plethora of non-functioning air conditioners strewn in its wake. We rented a car in Washington and have been driving around the Southeastern United States whipping campaign offices into fighting shape. It was 92 in Virginia, 102 in South Carolina, 95 in Florida, 100 in Georgia and it is 101 degrees with 100 percent humidity as we pull into Biloxi, Mississippi to hook up with the President at a day-long meet and greet for the fourteen registered Democrats on the Gulf Coast.

It is quite possible the heat, lack of sleep and the complete lack of sex have combined to actually fry my few remaining brain cells.

***

As this administration's Press Secretary, I must admit to not being an original backer of Josh Lyman's let them think I'm gay' approach to his personal life.

It has worked better than I could have ever anticipated.

Donna quietly wears her engagement ring. Anyone who asks about it is told the truth. She doesn't name names unless someone specifically inquires, but she answers honestly.

Josh goes about the business of being Josh. He just seems to be wound a lot less tight these days.

I attribute that to the sex.

The two of them are the epitome of professionalism at work.

Okay, let me rephrase that.

If I were not privy to the change in their personal lives, I wouldn't suspect anything from their behavior in the office. In other words, they are the same Josh and Donna they have always been.

Josh and Bruno have been blanketing the Southeast for the past two weeks, coordinating campaign offices and working with local media.

Speaking of travelling, we are in Biloxi, Mississippi this morning for some sort of crawfish cook-off thing.

The plan is for our two wandering missionaries of reelection to meet up with us here and then we'll all head back to DC tonight.

Except that Leo and the President have arranged a little surprise for Josh, who has been busting his ass helping Bruno and doing his real job from the road.

We're sprawled out in the workspace we've commandeered when the two of them arrive.

My first thought is that they look exhausted.

Bruno says nothing, just glares at all of us until Toby hands him his room key. He leaves without speaking.

Josh collapses in a chair.

"You look like shit."

Sam, the master of understatement.

"Did you all know the average July temperature in Birmingham, Alabama is 80 degrees?" Josh asks the room at large.

When none of us respond, he continues.

"Was anyone aware of the fact that Birmingham, Alabama is presently in the midst of the worst heat wave on record? That this year, the average daytime temperature in July is 97 degrees?"

I take a closer look at him; finally noticing that he's wearing a tank top and basketball shorts. His hair is dripping wet.

"This abysmal heat wave managed to blow out the air conditioning in both the campaign office and the hotel, two days before Bruno and I even got to Birmingham."

"What is that smell?" Leo asks, entering the room.

"To top it all off, the air conditioning in the rent-a-wreck died an hour after we picked it up," Josh finishes.

Toby doesn't even look up from his paper.

"That smell, Leo, is your deputy."

"Can I have my room key, please? Who has the stuff Donna was supposed to send me?"

"CJ's going to take you to your room, because by looking at you, I doubt you can walk that far on your own."

President Bartlet makes his appearance.

"Take the rest of the day off, Josh. We've got this covered," Leo tells him as I lead him out of the suite.

"You look glum, mi amour."

"I'm tired, I smell, and I miss Donna," he states simply and without hesitation.

***

CJ grins at me when we reach the door to what I presume is my room.

"We're up 10 points in Florida since you two went down there," she says, shoving me through the door.

10 points? Damn, that puts the state in play.

"The President thinks you deserve a reward."

"What?"

"Joshua, Leo has given you the day off. My orders are to make sure that you shower and get on the airplane."

"Huh?"

I'm looking around what is obviously CJ's room. She has her hand between my shoulders, pushing me into the bathroom.

"Shower. Quickly. Your flight leaves in 90 minutes."

I don't argue, but once I'm under the freezing water I start to piece the conversation together.

"What flight?" I holler.

"Your flight to DC."

I hear the door open and CJ walk in.

"I'm going to DC?"

"You're taking the day off and the President is sending you home early. Last night, the Senate Majority Leader scheduled a roll call vote on the education bill for a week from Thursday. There are some wavering senators on both sides of the aisle that need to be reminded of who is really going to win in November. Donna has your schedule packed for the next 10 days."

Ooh, beating up on misbehaving senators. My favorite sport.

"How many stops?"

"It's a surprise."

"Will the air conditioning work?" I ask.

***

The air conditioning on the charter flight only works intermittently.

However, when I step out of the plane, I discover the heat wave followed me. It's a hundred degrees and a hundred percent humidity in Washington.

I spot the Audi outside the private terminal and head towards it.

Donna greets me with a sensuous kiss when I collapse into the passenger seat.

"Mmm. I missed you." I tell her.

"I missed you too."

"Why is the top down?" I just realized that the sun is baking my head.

"The air conditioner died yesterday, the dealership can't get it in until tomorrow. We can drop it off after 6 a.m. and they'll give us a loaner."

"It's a Republican plot against me," I groan. "Every where I go, the air conditioning dies."

"We'll go home and I'll show you how much I missed you. That will take your mind off it."

I think she's leering at me.

"Are you propositioning me, Donnatella Moss?"

"Damn right I am."

With that, she shoves the car into gear and pulls into traffic.

***

On the drive home, I decide there was no point in showering this morning, because I smell once again. Donna couldn't keep her hand (just one, she was driving with the other) off of Spongebob, so I'm also horny as hell. Reaching my apartment I finally drop my bags and grab Donna, pushing her up against the door, kissing her deeply.

"Inside. Now." She demands. Yeah, sex in the hallway would be bad. The neighbors talk too much as it is.

Two weeks has been a long time for both of us and phone sex just isn't an acceptable alternative. Not that I had time to have phone sex, because I was working 20 hours a day. Fumbling with the key, I finally get the door unlocked.

We're met by a blast of hot air.

"Donna, why is it hotter in the apartment than it is outside?"

She head over to the window air conditioner, looks at it, listens to it and then starts to smack the side of it.

I wince. "Is it dead?"

"As a doornail."

I sigh, grabbing my stuff from the hallway. "Let's get it out of the window, then."

This building is some kind of historical site, which means the landlord can charge exorbitant rent and can not install central air. I've had this mammoth window unit since I moved in here about ten years ago. It took me and four other guys an entire day to install it.

I, unfortunately, fail to remember that fact until Donna heaves the window open far enough for me to pull the thing out.

"You got it?" she asks.

"I think so," I grunt. One good pull should do it.

Well, it would have done it if my hands weren't covered in sweat. I pull, my hands slip and the air conditioner teeters on the window frame for just a second.

Donna jumps at the sound of it crashing to the sidewalk, two stories below.

"Whoops."

We look at each other before poking our heads out the window. The beast is lying on the ground in about fifteen pieces.

"Thank God it didn't hit anybody," Donna quips.

"I can just hear CJ spinning it now," I laugh. If I don't laugh, I'll cry. This day is just a total loss.

She and I troop downstairs and retrieve the pieces, tossing them into the building's dumpster.

"We better go buy another one," I collapse on the stoop.

Donna sits down next to me. "We could just go back upstairs and I could go back to proving to you how much I missed you."

"No air conditioning, no practice," I'm emphatic on this.

"You're withholding sex for shopping?" She's incredulous.

"I'm not as young as I used to be. If I try to have sex in this heat, I'll have a heart attack and die." Standing up, I offer her my hand, "Let's go buy an air conditioner."

***

We end up with a baby one for the master bedroom and a huge one to replace the recently deceased and obliterated old one. The big one gets delivered tomorrow at noon. For $50, they'll install it, too. Donna says she'll take a long lunch and supervise.

I get the bedroom unit assembled and installed with little difficulty.

***

Josh has been sitting in the bedroom trying to put the drain nozzle in for almost twenty minutes. In deference to the temperature in the bedroom, he's wearing boxers and nothing else. When I last checked in on him, he was dripping with sweat.

I know things aren't going well because he's swearing at it in Polish.

"Got it!" I hear him yell, finally.

While he's been fussing with that, I've been pouring over the President's projected schedule for next year, trying to pin down a wedding date. Yes, I'm going with the optimistic, we're going to win' approach. That leaves me with one realistic weekend before next summer: March 1st. March in Wisconsin, could be good weather, but probably not.

Josh interrupts my planning. "Donna! Come here, this is the part where I need help."

I'm thinking he probably needed help before we ever got the thing home. Entering the bedroom, I am fairly impressed. The window is open, Josh has it braced and in place.

He's grinning at me. "Just shut the window."

When I do, he lets go of it and we both take a step back. I fully expect it to plummet two stories to the ground. Josh stands there looking disgustingly pleased with himself.

"I am a man," he announces.

"Um, babe? Where did you plan to plug it in?" I can't see an outlet within reach of the unit's short cord.

With a smirk I just want to kiss off his face, Josh pulls an extension cord out of the box.

"Over there," he points to an outlet about six feet away.

"I am in awe of the power of your planning," I mock, observing the way his muscles ripple as he plugs the cord in and turns the air conditioner on.

"Careful, or I'll continue to refuse to practice with you," he threatens, swaggering up to me.

I wrap my arms around Josh's waist and pull his hips to mine, leaning in to lick the sweat from his bare chest.

He snakes his hands up my tank top, reaching for my bra snap. Together we stumble towards the bed, Josh kissing my neck and me still licking the sweat from his chest.

"You're wearing too many clothes," I tell him, straddling his bare chest after we land.

"Me?" Josh raises an eyebrow, which I promptly kiss.

"Oh, wait. That was supposed to be your cliché wasn't it?"

I relish the feel of him laughing under me. Josh hasn't laughed much in the past month or so. He hasn't done much but work since the first part of June.

Every time I tried his cellphone on this road trip, he was at some campaign office, working polls, coordinating volunteers, explaining strategy or doing his actual job.

"So, Donna?"

"Yes?" I wiggle my hips into his chest.

"How much did you miss me?"

"Let me think here. I've been driving your fabulous convertible around town, getting off work at a reasonable hour, taking an actual lunch, not apologizing to anyone," I rattle off.

Josh growls at me and sits up, dumping me backward into his lap and tickling me. I lean back up against his knees, trying to escape his skillful fingers. When I'm out of breath, he leans forward to kiss the base of my throat. He continues with that for a few moments and the stops long enough to pull my tank off.

***

We lay quietly, touching each other languidly.

"Did you find a weekend?" Josh asks, tracing a figure eight around the Wonder Twins.

"It's either March 1st or next summer."

I can feel him contemplating a March wedding; he's rocking his head back and forth, debating the idea. "Okay," he finally says.

That decided, we resume our silence, simply relaxing and enjoying the slowing cooling air. We both know these moments will be very rare between now and November.