Blame It on the Bossa Novaby Kristi
Spoilers: Well duh! ;)
I heard music when I stepped into the hallway.
I was pissed when I left my office. Ainsley knows I don't like coming down to her office or as she likes to refer to it, the Steam Pipe Trunk Distribution Room. But when I walked down the hall I could hear this strange music coming from her office.
And then I saw her.
She had her back to me and I could see her hips swaying and moving to the music with her long blond hair flowing down her back. She must have taken it down after her segment. And then I realized that she was wearing a bathrobe, and suddenly I am having inappropriate thoughts about the blond leggy Republican that is unknowningly seducing me with her dancing.
I have to snap out of it.
"Ainsley!" She turns around and her smiles lights up the room when she sees me. She isn't embarrassed at me seeing her like this. In fact she keeps dancing and I can see where the bathrobe has come undone and she has to adjust it so it won't fall open. I find myself grinning at the thought of it but then I am reminded that I am a Deputy Communications Director and she is an Associate White House Council member.
So I say the only thing I can think of, "Well I hardly know where to start."
"I was feeling so good after my segments that I went up to the sculpture garden."
I reminded her that there was a wet paint sign.
"My assistant went to get me clothes."
We are alone in her office, she is wearing a bathrobe with very little underneath, and this music is so intoxicating. This has disaster written all over it in so many languages. If only she would stop moving those beautiful hips of hers.
"Why are you moving like that?"
"I'm blaming it on the bossa nova." She smiles.
Then she tells me that she has had alcohol and that she isn't what I think she is. What does she think that I think she is? Ok that didn't come out right so let me elaborate. I think she is a conservative Republican who wiped the floor with me on primetime TV and thus caused a monumental amount of harrassment from Josh about getting my ass kicked by a girl. But from where I am standing now, Ainsley is no girl. She is 100% pure woman.
And every part of my body knows it. and I can't wipe this goddamn grin off my face.
So I change the subject, "I came down here to tell you . . ."
"Dance with me Sam."
Once again this woman has caught me completely off-guard. I want nothing more than to dance with Ainsley, to hold her in my arms and feel her move against me, to lean down and kiss those lips . . .
And then the President walks in to Ainsley's office.
Which brings me to where I am now, sitting in my office and trying desparately to get this vision of a her out of my mind. Everywhere I turn, instead of tending to matters of the State of the Union, all I see is her. Who is going to be held responsible when I can't get any work done? Then the answer come to my mind and a slow smile makes its way across my face.
I'm gonna blame the bossa nova.