Storm Front

Thus prepared, Jenny Chang breezed by Security, into the building, up the elevator, through the front door of Senator Whitmer’s office, through the reception area, and to the outside of the inner sanctum without difficulty.

She tapped on the door.

“What is it?” Whitmer asked. He sounded annoyed. Just like a man who had been asked to stay late and then got stood up at the last minute.

Then schoolgirl Jenny Chang appeared in his doorway, clutching a file.

“Why, hello there, young lady,” he said, his voice warming up by about fifty degrees.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “I thought this was Senator Sessions’s Office. I was just supposed to deliver this to him. Oh my God.”

Donny Whitmer laughed. “Darling, I’m afraid you’re a little lost. Senator Sessions is the junior senator from Alabama and he’s in the Russell Building. I’m Donald Whitmer, the senior senator from Alabama. Although I’ve been told I look five years younger than him.”

Donny ran his hand through his silver hair. There was nothing like a schoolgirl to bring out the schoolboy in any man, no matter what his age or station in life.

“I’m so, so sorry to bother you, Senator,” she stammered. “I’ll just…”

And then it happened. In all her fluster, Jenny Chang let the file she was holding flop open, dropping its contents on the floor. She immediately stooped down to pick it up, making sure to give Senator Whitmer a nice view.

“Oh my God, I’m such a klutz!” she moaned.

“Here, here, let me help you,” Senator Whitmer said, springing out of his chair with very non-septuagenarian agility, until he was kneeling on the floor next to her. Very, very next to her.

“I’ve got it. I’ve got it. Please, I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Now, now, it’s no trouble,” he said, warmly. “But now you’re going to have to tell me who you are. You can’t just walk into my office and throw things around unless I know your name.”

“I’m so, so, sorry,” she said, standing up and holding her arm out stiffly. “I’m Jenny Chang. I’m an intern for Senator Jordan Shaw of Connecticut. I’m sorry. I’m new.”

“I can see that,” Donny said, taking her right hand softly in his.

“I just love working for her, though. She’s just the best. Don’t you just love her?”

Senator Shaw was a Democrat, one of the smartest people in the Senate and yet, in Donny’s mind, a total bitch — one of those female Senators who most certainly didn’t play ball with the boys. He hated her.

“Who doesn’t love her?” he cooed. “She’s a great public servant. You’ll learn a lot from her.”

“Oh, I know. I know. I’m just so lucky to have landed this internship. It just sucks that it’s over in six months.”

“Well, there are always other opportunities on Capitol Hill,” Donny said. “I might have an opening coming for an… energetic young person. If you’re interested.”

“Really? Oh my God, that would be so amazing! But don’t you have to, I don’t know, interview me or something?”

“That’s a fine idea,” the senator said. “How about now?”

“R-r-really? You mean it?”

“No time like the present. If that’s okay with you. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Oh my God, that’s great,” she said, walking toward one of the chairs in front of the senator’s desk.

“Not there,” he said quickly. “Feels too… undemocratic. Why don’t you have a seat over there. We can get comfortable. Get to know each other in a less formal setting.”

He gestured toward the couch–love seat combination in the corner. She chose the couch. “You mean like here?” she said.

“That’s fine. Just fine. Why don’t I pour you a drink? You can’t work for an Alabama senator unless you learn how to drink a real Alabama-style whiskey.”

“Is that… is that allowed?” she asked, going as wide-eyed as she knew how.

“Well, that depends. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-two, but…”

He silently gulped. “Well, then, there’s no problem at all.”

One drink led to two. And then more.

Jenny Chang was bubbly and enchanting. She arched her back. She crossed and recrossed her legs. She leaned toward him, then away.

It certainly was having the desired effect. Donny wanted her. Bad. Enough that she was quite sure it wasn’t his big brain doing the thinking anymore.

Oh, he was doing an admirable job at being gallant and gentlemanly. He resisted sliding down the couch toward her. He asked thoughtful questions and seemed to be interested in her responses — which was impressive, since even Xi Bang wasn’t interested in some of the vapid crap that was pouring out of Jenny Chang’s mouth.

He even maintained good eye contact as they spoke. Except, of course, every time she looked away from him, she watched out of the corner of her eye as his gaze traveled downward to her breasts and legs.

Soon, she shifted their conversation toward politics, which Jenny indulged even though it, like, sort of, you know, didn’t always make sense to her. She had to make him explain things a lot. And drink more as he did it.