“I certainly hope so,” I told her.
“So do I, Steve.” Her ample breasts rose and fell quickly under the brown velvet of the dress she was wearing. “Have you been in Washington long?” she asked after a pause.
“Not too long.”
“But you’ll be staying a while, I hope.”
“That’s hard to say, Olivia. I hope so.”
“Where are you staying, Steve?”
I told her the name of my hotel.
“I don’t think I’m familiar with it.” She cocked her head.
“It’s on K Street.”
“Is it? K Street. The Rex Hotel on K Street.” Olivia closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “I’ll remember that.”
There was an undercurrent—perhaps even a message-—in the thoughtful way she spoke. I was just tuning in on it when the sound of a door slamming made me break off the glance in which our eyes were locked. A moment later the Senator appeared in the doorway of the room.
He stopped short when he saw me. He turned visibly pale. His fat jowls started to tremble and sweat broke out on his forehead. He knew why I was there.
“Hello, darling,” Olivia greeted him without noticeable pleasure. “Mr. Victor has been waiting to see you.”
“Hi, Senator,” I greeted him.
“Hello.” His voice was weak.
“Why haven’t you brought Mr. Victor around before?” Olivia asked him. “You always keep the most intriguing men to yourself. The only ones who ever come here are fat and old and dull. Present company stricken from the record, of course,” she added blithely. “Well, I’ll leave you gentlemen to your nasty politics.” Olivia got to her feet. “I’ll be seeing you again, Steve.”
“It’s been my pleasure, Olivia.” I stood and bowed. Mother would have been proud of my manners.
“What do you want?” the Senator hissed when we were alone.
“You know what I want. I want you to change your vote.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then I’ll have to call on your wife again tomorrow,” I threatened.
“What did you say to her?”
“Nothing . . . yet!”
“Listen, if it’s money you’re after -”
“It isn’t. I told you. It’s your vote I want.”
“But how could I ever justify changing my vote now? ’
“That’s your problem. But if you don’t change it, I’ll be back here tomorrow and tell your wife all about your extramarital activities.”
“I could never face my fellow Democrats.”
“Would you rather face your wife?”
“No. I could never do that.”
“Then you’ll have to face your Party. It’s one or the other.”
“Maybe not. I could shoot you.” The Senator took out a gun and pointed it at me.
“Philander?” His wife appeared in the doorway and took in the scene. “What on earth are you doing? Surely you’re not going to shoot Mr. Victor! He’s the first interesting man you’ve introduced me to in Washington.”
“Philander!” I chuckled. “Is that really your name?” I asked the Senator. “That’s very apt.”
“What do you mean, Steve?” There was an edge of suspicion to Olivia’s voice.
“It’s my middle name,” the Senator said hastily. “Olivia likes to tease me with it. Actually, I only use the P.” He turned to Olivia. “He didn’t mean anything by that, my dear. He was only joking.”
“Joking? And are you joking too? Is that gun you’re pointing at him only a joke?”
“How about it, Senator?” I asked. “Are you going to put the gun away? Or shall I start talking?”
Hastily the Senator put the gun away. “You win,” he told me. “I’ll do what you ask.”
“Fine. Believe me, it’s for the best. And don’t change your mind, Senator.” I got up and started out. “I’ll be seeing you, Olivia,” I added meaningfully.
“There’s no need,” the Senator said hastily.
“I’ll be sure of that tomorrow,” I told him. I left.
I’d done it! I crowed all the way back to my hotel. Johnson would be impeached! I went to bed happy.
I woke up with a problem. It announced itself with a knock at my door. Half-awake as I stumbled to the door, I assumed it was Heavenly come to make her usual daily demands.
The demands were similar-—but it wasn’t Heavenly. It was the Senator’s wife, Olivia! I stared at her bleary-eyed and confused as she came in and closed the door behind her.
“Good morning, Steve darling,” she chirped.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
“What kind of greeting is that?” Olivia was hurt. “Aren’t you glad to see me? Can’t you guess what I’m doing here?”
I could guess. Particularly after she pressed her lips to mine. The avidity with which her tongue explored made it plain that she hadn’t come to my room for conversation.
“You want me to make love to you,” I said brightly when the kiss was over.
“That’s very good. I knew you had a good mind the first few minutes we talked. You catch on to things so quickly.”
Olivia took off her coat and hung it in the closet.
“Yes, but you see there are complications.” I remembered Heavenly and the fact that she was likely to breeze in here at any moment.
“You mean my husband?” Olivia laughed and carefully removed her bonnet. “Don’t worry about him.” She took off her gloves one at a time. “He’d never dream I’d be unfaithful to him.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and began undoing her highbutton shoes.
“Why not?” I wondered.
“He’s too worried about my finding out about his indiscretions to even think that I might be having an affair myself.” Olivia pulled off one shoe and then the other. “Ahh.” She wriggled her toes.
“Still, if he should find out . . .”
“Even if that were a problem, it would hardly be on his mind today.” Olivia got to her feet and started fumbling with the buttons at the back of her gown. “He’s all caught up in this impeachment business. Today’s the big day. He’s at the Senate already. They’ll be starting to vote soon.” She hiked the dress up in back in order to reach the middle but- tons.
“Even so,” I said desperately, afraid that Heavenly might show at any minute, “I don’t know that I should dishonor your husband by betraying him in this fashion.”
“Don’t be pompous.” Olivia pulled the dress off over her head, folded it neatly and hung it over the back of a chair. “You know very well that men cheat on their wives all the time. Why should it compromise your honor to cooperate in the reverse of the procedure?”
“All right, that’s not it,” I admitted.
“Then what’s the trouble?” She stepped out of a petticoat
“There’s another complication.”
“Don’t you find me appealing?” She stepped out of another petticoat.
“Yes, but-—”
“Then I don’t see the problem.” She stepped out of a third petticoat.
“I’m expecting a visitor.”
“Put him off.” A fourth petticoat billowed to the floor. “Leave word for him at the desk that you’ve gone out.” She divested herself of yet another petticoat.
“It’s not a him.”
“Not a him?” Petticoat Number Six was shucked.
“It’s a her,” I admitted.
“A her?” Thoughtfully, she took off the seventh petticoat. “Well, I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “Get rid of her!” She pulled off the eighth and last petticoat.
The room looked like a campsite. Petticoats were spotted around the floor like deflated pup tents. Olivia stood among them like a determined Amazon in the skeleton armor of the wire hoop arcing out from her waist. White ruffles ran up her legs to an impossibly tight-laced corselet topped with straps going over her shoulders. The wide straps were decorated with frilly bows. She might have stepped out of the pre-party scene in Gone with the Wind.