Get in. Tell the Governor that he can’t openly cut down on jobs if he wants to keep his seat next time around. Twist his arm if I have to. Smile nicely and let him know I have a knife behind my back. And then get the hell out. I should be able to make time to catch the midnight shuttle from La Guardia back to Reagan if I stick to this plan.

That’s what I’m telling myself as my limo drives down along Park Avenue past 59th Street as it heads toward the Waldorf.

I hate coming to the city. I don’t mind it so much when I’m here, but every time I fly into either JFK or La Guardia, it seems just a bit more fake. A bit more gentrified. Common people pushed out in favor of the wealthy. International billionaires who come in and buy $2 million dollar apartments just to park their money. But everyone forgets the people who had to get evicted so the old walk-up apartment buildings could get bulldozed for these new gleaming towers.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go back to the days of high crime and a broke, dysfunctional New York City. And I’m not socialist. I’ve made enough money from the system, and my investment portfolio would leave many people green with envy. I’m definitely in the 1%.

But despite all that, sometimes it makes me sad, seeing Manhattan go from the place that brought out the best in America and slowly turn into an upscale shopping mall for the well-to-do. Not everywhere. And not always. And there’s still a long way to go.

But it just seems like more, every time.

I sigh. I need to get my head out of the clouds. Maybe this is what women worry about when they don’t have kids. Although, I’m only 29. And honestly, getting to be Senator was hard work. I’ve never had a chance to think about kids, and why am I even thinking about kids right now? I mean, look at me, hun. I’m wearing Vera Wang—dressed to kill in a black cocktail dress—heading to a fundraiser with the most powerful people in the country. And I’m wondering about kids? And a gentrifying city?

The car comes to a stop and the chauffeur opens my door and I tell myself I need to just follow the script and I’ll be out of here in an hour to be able to get back onto my plane and back home. Maybe I’ll even invite Mr. Lobbyist with the small dick back to my place. He gives great head.

I walk into the Waldorf and make my way to Peacock Alley where the fundraiser is being emceed. Security checks my credentials and all of a sudden I’m in a sea of bowties and cocktail dresses. People sipping martinis and laughing politely as they talk about the problems associated with ruling the world.

"Senator Hawthorne?" an usher says to me, coming up to me. He must have recognized me, although I don’t do many of these things. I nod. "If you’ll follow me, please," he asks.

But wait, I’m sticking to my plan, remember. I can’t get caught up in anything else.

"Actually, can you take me to Governor Andrews?" I say to the usher. He looks at me for a moment and then nods and begins to make his way through the clumps of people surrounding the buffet table and bar.

We make our way for a minute until we reach a massive fireplace and that’s when I see the usher go up next to a tall man in a tuxedo with his back turned to me. He interrupts a conversation and the man turns to me and all of a sudden I catch my breath.

You remember when I told you earlier I didn’t want to have kids because I needed to focus on work?

Well, hun, if this man told me to have his babies, I’d hike up my dress and spread my legs right here on the floor.

I don’t even speak as I watch him walk over to me.

"Senator Hawthorne?" he asks and holds out his hand. "I’m Governor Andrews. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

I just had sex this morning. But then, why am I salivating over his Greek god body that fills out his Armani tailored suit?

I take a moment to look him up and down. He's got a handsome, to die for face. Blonde hair that's perfectly coiffed. His jaw is chiseled and his face is lean. Hungry. His eyes are a piercing blue and deep. They hold something dark. That face sits on top of an elegant neck and one of the most fantastic specimens of human male I have ever seen. Shoulders so broad that they could stop a truck. A chest that you can tell has pecs the size of wooden boards. Washboard abs. A tall, 6 foot 4 inch sculpture of perfection with a bulge in his trousers that hints at a package that I might want to explore.

"I’m surprised we have never met before," I manage to speak through a dry mouth that’s panting with desire. "Considering you’ve been in office for two years and I’ve been a Senator for those two years as well."

He nods to me. "I’ve been busy," he simply says.

My eyes travel quickly over his body again and I look at his crotch. Whatever is down there is long. It’s thick. It’s pulsing. And I want it.

That’s right. I may want to fuck him. Or not. But it’s my decision. And right now, I am definitely leaning for fucking his brains out.

Control yourself, Viv! I tell myself as I get my eyes back up to his face.

"You’re causing quite the stir in Washington," I tell him, looking at him. "It brought me down here to see what we could do to resolve this."

"Well, I’m sorry Senator, but I don’t usually take it well when a small town Mayor tells me to go fuck myself because his initiatives are going against laws that apply to the entire state," Carter says, his steely eyes drilling into me.

"Those factories don’t belong in the state anyways," another voice interrupts me and I turn around.

A slim, elegant looking Chinese woman is standing there with a martini in her hand. She’s got a smirk that I immediately dislike and I can tell she’s not a big fan of mine either. And it’s clear to me that she sees herself as the person who’s going to be fucking Carter Andrews. "This state is past manufacturing jobs, if you ask me."

"I wouldn’t know who you are to ask you that, Miss…" I say with a smile and as much polite condescension as I can afford.

She extends a hand. "I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Tina Ling, special representative from the People’s Republic of China on behalf of China First Bank," she says to me. "I also head the Communist Party in Shanghai and planned this fundraiser."

"So, you’re the equivalent of the Mayor of Shanghai?" I ask, filing away the fact that China First Bank is holding a fundraiser for American political leaders for later.

"I am," Tina Ling says, with a puff of pride.

"Well, Mayor," I say, smiling sweetly. "This is a conversation for just Senators and Governors. Would you mind giving us a moment, please?"

I know, hun. I know. I’m being a bitch.

But just looking at her tits hanging out from that black dress, with those slits showing her thigh. How elegant she is. How silky. And how entitled. It just has me feeling very bloated and angry. Like who the hell is she to come in here, have her fancy fundraiser, and walk away with this man?

Tina must realize this because she smiles at me in a superior fashion. "I’ll be at the bar, waiting, Carter," she says, and turns to walk away.

"That could have gone better," Carter says, a slight smile on his severe face as he looks at me.

"Be the bigger person and all, you mean?" I ask, taking his arm in mine and moving him toward a corner of the room.

Oh, my. Taking his arm? In mine? Drawing closer?

It’s a good thing at least that I wore panties tonight. Because I’d be dripping down my legs right now if I didn’t.

"Being gracious is something that’s usually smiled upon," Carter says.

"So when a Mayor makes some news by saying the Governor can go fuck himself, maybe the best thing to do is ignore it and not make a mountain out of a mole hill, hm?" I ask him with a smile.

Carter’s face stiffens. "That’s different."

"How?" I ask, smiling. I know I’m not listening to my own advice I gave myself in the car. I was supposed to come in here and steamroll over him. But I’m having fun instead.

"Liam Jeffries is an undisciplined, arrogant, sonofabitch, and he’s never cared about authority or rules in his entire goddamn life," Carter says matter-of-factly. "And I can’t sacrifice the future of this state just so he can be seen as the hero by his drinking buddies up in New Kingston."

"You don’t mess with jobs," I tell Carter.

"Jobs won’t be worth a damn when everyone has asthma and their drinking water is poisoned," Carter shoots back at me.

"But you need to consider that maybe you just let him burn out then," I reply back. "You’ll still be here, but let him vent. And move on. Kill the factories with red tape."

Carter pauses for a moment. "Have you ever met Liam Jeffries?" he asks me.

I shake my head. I’ve never even bothered. He’s a mayor of a small town that’s a suburb of New York City. The population of New Kingston is around 45,000. Fifty minutes from a city of 8 million. My office didn’t even have a file for him.

"I’ve never met him nor dealt with him," I tell Carter.

"Well, then," Carter says pointing behind me toward the wall. "This is who you’re dealing with."

I turn around toward the television.

And for the second time that night, I gasp.

Tall, rugged, handsome, with a smirk that tells me he’s gotten his hands dirty too many times to count is a man that the headline says is Liam Jeffries.

I can see the vague trace of a tattoo on his right and left shoulder and one peeking up from his chest.

He’s speaking. The volume is lowered since there’s a party, but I can still hear.

"These factory jobs are coming to New Kingston," Liam says. "I don’t care what kind of environmental legislation they’ve passed up in Albany, but I can tell you this, that shit doesn’t mean a damn when you don’t have a job. And I’m bringing jobs."

I’m transfixed. I’m mesmerized. By his face. His eyes. His intensity.

"And I know I’m not supposed to curse on live television, but if the Governor is going to get his panties in a bunch over helping good people, then I’m going to keep saying what I said yesterday," Liam says to the camera. "He can go fuck himself. Or he can stop crying and suck a fat fucking dick."

"You see now what I mean?" Carter says to me, as if this should explain everything. "The man is a goddamn child. Not to mention he probably just cost the network $500,000 in broadcast fines for his cursing."

I’m listening. I’m thinking maybe I should pay a visit to New Kingston myself, you know?

Maybe understand the situation a bit more.

Because I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to get the facts and help them make a reasonable compromise.

It’s going to be hard because right now I want to do only one thing in the world.

Fuck.