“I think you’re drunk,” Governor C. whispered to me as I sat on the king-sized bed in a hotel room at the Tampa Airport Marriott.
There I was, sitting on top of the covers, eating Oreo cookies and sipping rosé, watching Jurassic Park with the governor of my home state, the governor I had enjoyed getting to know and spending time with for the past few weeks.
“I think you’re drunk,” I replied, giggles rising through me like the tiny bubbles in the glass of Rosa Regale C. had poured for me.
“You’ve had enough,” C. said as he leaned forward and took the glass from my hand. As he sat up, he looked into my eyes. “Destiny. Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he whispered , leaning in to kiss me.
This article appears in Sep 2-8, 2009.