À la mode of Harris & Polanski – TRUE FICTION – ‘The Prime Minister’s Mistress’
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12th April 2010
Just so it’s all in one place, and I can add a little when the spirit moves me, here’s my bit of fun and games inspired by that well-known dissembowelling dissembling and contortionist double-act, Harris and Polanski, coming soon to a screen near you. (My original nonsense was included at the end of this post.)
[Blair Supporter’s Warning: ANY SIMILARITIES (or links) TO ANY PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, ARE PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL AND ABSOLUTELY UNINTENDED. (Honest, Your Worship.)]
THE PRIME MINISTER’S OFFICE – SOFA – SECRETARY – RELEASE – MISTRESS (Yes, that’ll do)
“It had been some time since they’d been locked in a room together. She gazed at his strong straight back. He stood still as night staring blankly out of the mist-smeared window, arms by his sides as though once again at a Remembrance Day Ceremony in Whitehall. She recalled the last time it had been just them. It was prior to the 2005 election, and he was tired and low – lower than ever before. They’d shared his famous sofa and a coffee while she’d cradled his head protectively, comfortingly in the crook of her arm. She had often done that since they first met as 16 year-olds. He brought out the maternal in her. They both knew that he had this effect on women. That was one of the reasons he was still prime minister.
This time there was something else. Like others who were close, she knew that the war weighed heavily on him. Now its repercussions or perhaps something else, were gnawing away at him from inside, despite his public shows of outward strength. She approached quietly and stroked the back of his neck, gently at first. He stiffened, involuntarily. And then she massaged more intensely across his taut, broad shoulders, allowing her body to move glancingly across his back. He started to relax under her skilful hands and turned and looked silently into her eyes, a flicker of the familiar smile on his lips. She feared he would hear her deafening heartbeat.
It was no more than a few seconds but felt like an eternity before he moved again, his eyes drifting from hers. He seemed to be searching, almost pleading for something to take him out of his present state of powerless power. Like a momentarily delayed reflex her lips brushed his cheek, gently, sisterly. Suddenly, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, passionately. Fumbling like breathless, lovesick teenagers would have been improper. ‘It isn’t supposed to be like this’, she murmured as she stepped back from the warmth of his arms. He smiled, remembering the last time. She wondered whose need was greater.
Right. That’s enough of that nonsense.
You see? Imagination is far more rampant than real life.
[I may add subsequent thrilling episodes as and when.]
Come on! You’re getting this tripe FREE. You have to pay for Harris & Polanski’s.
Update – here’s Part 2 – The Prime Minister’s Mistress (‘Labyrinto’) … continued (Part 2)