The banners announcing Edmond's position as the governor were hanging around the city. His smiling face was plastered with words written in white, standing out, 'Vote Edmond, Vote Change.'
Teams aligned together in their blue uniforms. Flyers in the hands as they prepared themselves for the rally.
Inside the campaign offices, Edmond was seated, listening to his father, Mr. Winkle. Mrs. Lout asked them to close their eyes for prayers before the meeting.
"I think Edmond, you are ready for this," said Mr. Lout.
With a vacant stare, Edmond lazily rocked in his chair, flipping through the booklet without reading it.
"All we need is to make sure that everything flows smoothly." He closed the booklet and stood from his chair. Hands in his pockets, he stood by the window.
The campaign office buzzed with activity. Men and women in blue T-shirts bearing his face scurried around like little minions. Some huddled in groups, exchanging notes, others were glued to the telephone desk, while the rest busied themselves arranging the fliers.
Unsatisfied, he sighed deeply and turned his gaze back to the flurry of movement beyond the glass, campaign staff darting around like wind-up toys. Then, almost too casually, he shifted his attention to Mrs. Lout.
"Will your daughter join us on this campaign, Mrs. Lout?" His tone was calm, but the question landed with weight.
The room stiffened.
Mr. Winkle shot a look at Mr. Lout, eyebrows raised in silent inquiry, but the older man said nothing.
Sensing the tension, Mrs. Lout offered a broad smile and turned to Edmond, "She is the youth leader," she said brightly. "She must grace us with her presence."
Mr. Lout and Mr. Winkle both nodded in agreement.
Edmond smiled faintly, then looked back at his campaign staff through the glass. His brows furrowed as if something in the group unsettled him.
"Can't she be my adviser? Or even my scheduler?"
The question cracked through the room's stillness. Heads turned. Mr. Winkle raised a brow, watching as Edmond sank comfortably into his chair, eyes now fixed on Sandy's parents.
"What?" Edmond said Edmond casually, swinging in his chair as he reached for a cookie. He chewed slowly, deliberately. Then, dusting the crumbs from his fingers, he picked up the staff list.
"I am not satisfied with my scheduler," he sneered, letting the paper slip from his hands. It drifted to the floor, landing neatly at Mrs. Lout's feet.
He made a move to pick it, but she was quicker. Their eyes locked. She didn't smile. Her lips pressed tight as her grip on the paper crumpled it.
"What do you say, Mr. Lout?" Edmond stopped swinging. His voice dropped a note, and he stared directly at Sandy's father.
Mr. Winkled cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You first have to be elected, son."
Edmond scowled at his father, but the expression melted quickly into a grin. "Can't I get some small privileges, Dad?"
"It is a campaign, not a matchmaking service?" Mr. Winkle snapped.
Mrs. Lout moved fast, lowering the blinds. The shadows lengthened as father and son exchanged sharp, unreadable glances.
"I know," Edmond said, a smirk tugging at his lips, "but you had your privileges too, didn't you?"
Mr. Winkle stood abruptly, his chair screeching behind him.
Edmond rose, almost instinctively, but his father didn't look back. He stormed out, slamming the door.
Mr. Lout looked at Edmond, uneasy. His gaze slid to his wife, searching for support. She nodded once.
"Edmond, you know Sandy is married," Mr. Lout began.
Edmond said nothing. He drifted from his chair and began pacing the room, one hand in his pocket, the other one twitching with restrained energy.
"I know you wanted her but she's someone else's now."
Mrs. Lout curled into her chair, pulling her knees up, folding into herself. As she reached for her husband's hand, she accidentally knocked over his coffee.
"Sorry, honey," she murmured, grabbing tissues and dabbing at his sleeves.
"I'll clean up," Mr. Lout said quietly, retreating to the washroom, leaving Edmond alone with Mrs. Lout.
Shifting her gaze to Edmond, Mrs. Lout glared at him.
Her eyes dark with anger and beneath it, a cracking jealousy shimmered. The veins on her forehead pulsed visibly. In one step motion, she lifted her leg, heels gleaming and slammed the table in front of her.
"Are you stupid?" She snapped.
Edmond stopped pacing and turned to her, that wicked smile curling his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he walked towards her and pulled the chair she was seated in. Without hesitation, he grabbed her leg, spreading it out as she lifted the hem of her skirt.
"Jealous much?" He murmured.
His fingers slid up her thigh, revealing smooth, cream-white skin, Mrs. Lout breathed heavily, unmoving, letting him continue. His touch was slow, deliberate, confident.
"I want some young blood," he said, his voice low.
He looked into her eyes, her orbs black with heat and fury, her breathing unsteady. Her emotions betrayed her.
"Tell me, Jenifer, am I the only spoon in this pot or is someone else stirring the broth?"
His hands rose to her chest. Without waiting, he opened the top of her blouse, slipping his fingers into her bra. He pinched one nipple gently. Jenifer let out a soft, involuntary moan.
Edmond leaned closer, lips brushing her ear.
"That sound," he whispered, "I remember it from the first time I touched you."
Jenifer's hand rose to stop him but Edmond was faster. He grabbed her wrist and pushed it behind her back, holding her against the chair.
"What, you don't want to hear it?"
He moved to her other breast, pulling it free from her bra. It bounced slightly and he watched it with a cruel smile.
"How I wish…"
Jenifer shoved him back. Edmond stumbled but caught himself, landing neatly in the chair behind him.
She stood quickly smoothed her skirt and blouse just as a knock echoed on the door.
"Mr. Edmond, I think we are starting in five," his campaign manager called through the door then walked away.
Jenifer stared at the door, her breathing still uneven. But Edmond tapped his finger on the armrest, pulling her attention back to him.
Her hands clenched into a fist.
"You can't have Sandy," she hissed. "I'll do anything you need."
Edmond laughed, low, mocking.
"Really?"
Jenifer nodded, her jaw tight.
He stood and crouched beside jer, eyes narrowing.
"Just a minute ago, you stopped me," He stood tall, towering over her.
"Now look," His hands gestured down toward the bulge in his pants.
"He still needs some help. Are you going to fulfill your end of bargain?"
Jenifer's eyes flickered to his crotch, then back to him.
"You need to start your campaign. We don't have time."
Edmond leaned down again, brushing her hair from her face. His breath was hot against her ear.
"Jenifer…" he whispered, voice husky.
"I would love for you to just bow down… for a little prayer."
His lips curled into a grin.
"Your amen, will be determined by my climax."