Elizabeth
8 November 2016
Election Day
The men and women that were the wind beneath Mitchell's wings buzzed outside the campaign offices. Rows and cubicles of red and blue slogans of action belied the tense undercurrent of the room. Filled with hopeful anticipation, false chatter helped to ease their nerves.
It was loud in the rest of the campaign offices.
Just not in here.
Hearing Abby's voice after days of self-made imprisonment had burst a wall through all my resolve. I can admit to myself that the sole reason I came here tonight was to see my girlfriend.
What I hadn't expected was finding myself having sex in the storage room.
I'd only snuck off in here to talk to her. But talking was taken off the table as soon as she had kissed me. Mouth warm, hands unforgiving I didn't have a choice as hurricane Abby swept us away.
Boxes fall, shelves clang and the shuck of dust on the equipment is a faint reality as I secure Abby from behind.
We're both fully dressed; her left leg angled over 3 Sappi paper boxes; my hand wrapped around her waist and between her legs.
Her fragrance is intoxicating. Our breaths haphazard and loud in the muffled silence.
Lifting the red shift dress had been easy. I don't even remember doing it. We weren't making love. This was frenzied, needy and long overdue. Our kisses hungry, uncoordinated.
Abby's rotating hips are urgent against me as I keep her in place. I let her guide me because maintaining a rythym is pointless at this stage.
Suddenly her skin reddens. Her breaths come in short, shallow gasps. I know she's close.
Finally, at the pop of champagne corks and a cheer from outside she slaps the wall and my fingers wrench a breathless gasp from her full lips.
Her skin flushes, clammy against my heated one. I squeeze her to me as herbreathing slowly returns to normal. Her heart rate slows to it's usual, safe cadence.
Something between a moan and laugh comes from her as she turns to me.
"I guess we won." She says, deliciously snaking her arms around my neck.
"Yeah, we should get back." I smile.
"Mmm," she groans. "Just give me 5 seconds with this."
"You have 2."
Her breath tickles my nose as she touches her forehead onto mine. Eyes closed.
Now that my external senses have returned, the blaring trumpets of Dj Khaled's anthemic 'All I Do Is Win' come muted through the walls. I chuckle quietly head still resting on Abigail's.
"Unbelievable." She whispers.
"Your father is such a loser." I say and regretfully pulling away.
"Ok. You ready?"
"As I'll ever be." She says smoothing her dress, hair and lipstick. "How do I look?"
My eyes pass over her blush coloured cheeks, her kiss pouted lips and the now wrinkled crease of her dress.
"Perfect."
