After this nomination is announced I’ll travel all over Georgia meeting people who don’t yet know my name, teaching them what I stand for and what I offer. If I win this race I’ll be the youngest Georgian Senator since William Wyatt Bibb served our great state from 1813-1814.

I would have liked to have met the man.

But I’m not doing this for status or a place in history — I’m doing this because I give a shit and I believe we deserve better than what they give us.

This plane has a bathroom in the middle where I find space to calm down. There’s a small galley where the flight attendants put together drink carts for Coach class. Right now the attendants are convening in the back of the plane, probably gossiping about which passenger is the biggest pain in the ass.

I have the place to myself.

Or I did.

“You got upset.”

Turning to Lady Jameson I steel my eyes at her beauty, glancing to her heels. “How tall are you without those?”

“Why?”

“You have to fight me on everything?”

She smiles. “I’m five-seven.”

“I’m in politics,” I blurt, trying not to kiss her.

She holds my eyes and says simply, “Oh.”

“You have strong opinions on it.”

“I’m just not sure I agree with you.”

“No, you are sure you don’t agree with me. Just say it. Don’t beat around it.”

A shadow drifts over her already dark eyes. “I have strong opinions about it, you’re right. But you know what they say, you should never talk about money, politics, or sex.”

On an angry chuckle I say, “The only things worth talking about, and society duct-tapes our lips shut with political correctness. Who said that, and why? Because it stirs up arguments? What’s wrong with disagreeing? We should be talking about money. More people would learn about personal finance if we shared information. Less people would choose fucked-up credit cards that suck us dry, and learn why a Roth IRA is better long term than a simple IRA.”

“Justin, I think it’s so people can have polite dinner parties and not be afraid of someone firing up…like you are now.”

We stare at each other and I shake my shoulders out. “Polite can kiss my ass.”

Lady Jameson lights up with a stifled laugh. “You’re pretty funny when you get mad.”

A grin itches to get out of me, but I fight the fucker into submission. “Oh yeah? I’m not amused.”

Stepping closer, she slides her hands up my shirt, neck, and around the back of my head to lace her fingers in my hair. I lean down and kiss her, my hands splayed on her upper and lower back as I grip her to my body. I unlock her jaw with mine and seek out her tongue, loving how good she tastes. She kisses like she speaks my language. Grabbing the lavatory door, I jog my chin to it and mouth, “Get in!”

Shaking her head in surprise she mouths, “No!”

I mouth back, “Is that a yes?”

She nods and squeezes in behind me. I lock the door, picturing that red ‘occupied’ light glowing on the other side.

The lid is down. Thank God. We don’t need to deal with that right now.

I grab a paper towel and dry off the sink her back is about to rest against.

As I clean up she slips her hand hungrily over my crotch, rubbing me. I can’t wait to be inside her again. Seeing her cum made me so fucking hard.

She tugs my cock through my pants, making me groan and sway.

“I have to fuck you,” I growl, grabbing her thigh and setting her high heel on the lid so that her legs are open for me.

“Me too,” she moans as I rake my fingernails up the inside of her leg, cupping her pussy through her damp panties and giving it a good rub. She moans, her eyelids lowering with need. She grabs and turns my head to whisper in my ear. “Enough with the hands. I want your whole shaft.” Then she licks it.

“Oh fuck yes,” I moan.

Unzipping my pants she reaches in to grab my length. Tearing open a condom I slap it on.

My tongue dances with hers as I pull her panties to the side and dive into her, burying my cock to the hilt. She moans, “Justin,” and shivers overtake my lungs. Despite the fact that we’re cramped in this small space we’re both loving every second of it.

She moves when I move.

Her hips arch when mine arch.

She fucks me back.

We’re violently pounding each other.

Kissing hard and deep.

Biting necks and tongues.

Clawing into clothing we wish wasn’t here.

I groan into her moaning lips, “I feel how close you are and it’s turning me on.”

That sensual wince.

The impending climax haunting her eyes.

The yearning there.

Harder…faster…hungrier.

I slam my mouth onto hers, finding her tongue as receptive as I need it to be. We cum together, our moaning muffled by our joined mouths. Her leg is shaking so I lift and hold it as her pussy clenches around my cock in sweet, hard, pounding contractions.

As she cums I whisper in her ear, “Remember when I said I do things to serve myself?”

“Uh huh,” she pants.

“Looks like that foot massage worked out how I wanted it to.”

She grins and kisses my neck, meeting my eyes to whisper, “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

I kiss her into silence. I love the way her fingers feel when they lace into my hair like this. And I really could kiss her forever. The way our mouths move together, the world disappears.

My cock is still buried inside her body as I search her eyes. “It’s good you didn’t tell me your name.”

She frowns, eyes flitting to my lips like she wasn’t done kissing me. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not the coatrack to throw your hat on. Unlike my brothers, I won’t go down the aisle. It’s not my style to settle down with one woman, and I certainly don’t believe in marriage. And I’ve got good reason for that.”

Her lips clamp shut in surprise. She stares at me a moment and then tilts her head. “You think I don’t know this? Have I given you any indication I want anything from you?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

A grin flashes on my face and I kiss her, but she pulls away from it. “No. It’s too cramped in here. Let’s go.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I force her to look at me. “I was just warning you.”

“No, you were just stroking your ego, that’s what you were doing.” She moves to separate our bodies.

Over the loud speaker the pilot picks the worst time to interrupt. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re beginning our descent into Atlanta where it’s a warm seventy-five degrees.”

“It’s chilly in here,” I mutter, zipping up my pants and unlocking the door to head back to my seat.

She stays in the bathroom, closes the door and leaves me ironically walking down the aisle alone.

As I buckle up, the big-titted flight attendant returns with a smile I’ve seen before, thousands of times on thousands of female faces. She sensually lays her hand on the seat in front of me and purrs, “Where’s your wife?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Go.”

She straightens up and hurries away.