Material Girl and The Candidate: Fiction based on True Bill Clinton Episode w/ Single Women
Prologue:
[Twenty-two years ago, on January
20, 1993; William Jefferson Clinton took the oath as 42nd President of the
United States--first of his vaunted “baby-boomer” generation. This fictional
account of a true story revolves around a charismatic candidate, unknown to a
sexy single girl returning to Dallas on the final leg of her journey; occurring
in November 1991, fifteen months before the inaugural]
More than any other airline, or
business for that matter, Southwest Airlines® lives the bromide: “it’s all about relationships,” by
ensuring both passengers and employees have fun during a flight. With no
assigned seating, cheap drinks and plane tickets; they value the atmosphere
created by happy employees, and the goodwill created in customers by always
being on-time and treating them with respect. Focusing on people creates a
competitive advantage in a difficult industry. So, this flight provided the
perfect place for Tina and Bill to meet; both of them experts at building
relationships: selling, communicating, networking, and having fun ran in their
blood!
Tina Dobbs was a tall Longview girl; a
little country, not from Tyler—in her 30s but casually beautiful. Wearing
comfortable Madonna-leggings and an oversized sweater on the flight, Clinton loved
the view from the aisle as she stretched upward to shove a carry-on bag into
the overhead bin.
“I think I can see through those
tights, Carville,” he whispered to his bald friend. “Doesn’t she just want you
to reach through the opening of that sweater,” Carville replied, “two scoops of
sweet cream, Billy.” Carville’s cackle caused people think he was drunk; but he
was just from Louisiana.
Tina was a cross between a young
Diane Keaton of the Annie Hall era and an athletic Cameron Diaz from There’s
something about Mary. A stunning beauty with long, sinewy legs, but ample bosom; the
two young politicos admired her tantalizingly sheer black bra. Her retro,
horn-rimmed glasses and stylishly cut, feathery blonde-hair gave a studious air
to a fiery sex appeal. Carville thought she could pass for a LSU co-ed, but his saavy client knew better; hoping she was as experienced in bed as he was.
The 46-year old Clinton maneuvered
gracefully so he sat across from Tina near the bulkhead in the open area on a
Southwest® jet considered neither cattle-car nor pick-up bar. So adept at conversing; the forced “facetime”
of a flight, buckled into opposite chairs gave him the tactical advantage.
It didn’t take long before the sizzle between them passed across the small
space like electric current, their animated dialogue covering multiple topics.
After partnering with his political
wife Hilary Rodham 11 years in a backwater state; during the previous month, the obscure if colorful outsider announced as a presidential candidate on the capitol steps. Nonetheless, here was Bill the cad, always playing the fulcrum between risk and reward; flirting with an eligible woman not his wife. Hurtling toward Texas like fledgling lovers, their personalities ran a mile wide and an inch deep: some priorities intersected, but not in a serious way.
,
“I love that song,” said Clinton,
referring to Madonna’s pop hit Material
Girl coming from nearby Walkman® earphones, “I’m not going to get that
out of my mind,” she demurred. It didn't take long for her to warm up to
Clinton’s charm, but in a peculiar way she was playing with him like the material girl in
the song. He pursued her subtly; serious about politics but relating to Tina
intimately in a small space, intensely looking into her pale eyes as he meandered through his story.
“I’m not liberal or conservative:
I’m both--it's different,” feebly explaining his politics, his upbringing,
his passion; she was captivated by his eyes, close cropped hair,
slightly graying, and the southern twang that made her comfortable: he sounded
like he was from East Texas. Their opposite seating seemed like both a bridge and a wall; Tina felt both connected and protected.
Offering no real political
insight to the conversation, she agreed amicably with the young candidate that the
economy was tanking, and President Bush’s popularity was sliding, even in Texas.
Entrepreneurial art dealers in Dallas rarely feel economic effects either way; because their clients come from wealth and sophistication--the exact demographic Clinton
was coming to Dallas to tap. Since that dark November in '63, Dallas filled the chasm in its
soul with the flickering light borne of a beacon; reflected off shiny
buildings, cars, and people. That beacon guided this flight home.
Her politics mattered much less than her ability to sell rich people expensive pieces of art. Clinton relentlessly talked about himself like anyone running for office, but Tina pictured him more likely the president of his fraternity a few years ago; away now in Texas, trying to close a big real estate deal.
Her politics mattered much less than her ability to sell rich people expensive pieces of art. Clinton relentlessly talked about himself like anyone running for office, but Tina pictured him more likely the president of his fraternity a few years ago; away now in Texas, trying to close a big real estate deal.
Even though he launched the
campaign earlier in 1991, she previously knew nothing about his background whatsoever--except that
he was cute. Hardly effusive, this divorced mother of two talked little about her personal life
on planes; mostly they discussed popular culture and how the country needed to
change course:
“My hero was John Kennedy. I want to finish what he started when he asked every American to take personal responsibility for the future of our country.”
God, she thought; this inexperienced politician seemed a little mischievous to want to save America from the Republicans. He desired immense power, that she could tell; and yet he wanted to help—by force
of his charm and the twinkle in his eye he slowly convinced her of his candidacy. She was unconsciously falling under the Clinton spell.
He confided in his wispy/raspy voice, “we’re hosting some liberal Jewish attorneys over at Fred Baron’s house, and then it’ll probably end up over at the Stoneleigh
P.” This neighborhood contained art galleries and bars; she knew it well. "Say, do you know Truman Arnold? He's from East Texas;" Clinton pried, always networking or fundraising. The material girl scratched and clawed but never cracked the upper echelon of rich Democrats like the Barons or the Bransons; and in the age before smartphones or Google® how could she know that these two men ironically, also were married to overbearing, bitchy, attorneys?
“My gallery is up the street on
Cedar Springs,” Tina confided, “I’ll be working late tonight for sure.”
Not uncoupling from the invisible line of electricity connecting them, and hoping they might run into each
other again; she eagerly pondered the alpha-Male in her mind, fascinated, curious, and
attracted to him even in the short time they had been together. President Clinton the micro-manager, obsessed over details of economic policy
or healthcare; was able to discuss eloquently yet technically almost any subject in
politics. As a regular observant guy on this flight, however; he noticed Tina’s
Razorback-red toenails, the little dimples in her back that peeked out just
above the hips, and her bleach blonde hair; a bit more natural than Gennifer
Flowers.
Southwest Airlines® flights
provided a casual workplace for the young powerbrokers of Texas; a small
boardroom where they could loosen their ties and socialize while airborne. Its nutty, comedic advertising promoted the image of “love,”
engendered the stock ticker symbol of LUV, and its home base was Love Field.
“I’ve got so many of these tickets, let me get you a drink?” Clinton ordered a
beer and Tina a very expensive brand of Vodka, again the contrast of Bubba and the fancy
girl from Big D. The optimist politician was sure she’d meet them later if he pitched this right.
As they drank more, Clinton got
sanguine and Carville got loud; men focused like assassins on the issues of the
upcoming election in 1992. Tina’s initial assessment fell far short of the election
results just one year later; in fact, as impressed as she was that afternoon,
she didn’t think of him again until after the Democratic nomination. He
appeared on the Arsenio Hall late-night TV show, playing that damned saxophone
on her TV screen! By then, the Clinton contagion was going viral, and Tina couldn't believe her eyes. She had brushed so close to a high-voltage power line, smoldering and exciting; even without regret, the memory burned deeply into her psyche as much as any historical fact of her life.
The dating Gods protected her from the maelstrom and sexual mayhem of the Clinton presidency. Like a ghost of a gathering storm; in reality the
relationship never had a chance. When they met, his candidacy and future wealth
wasn’t apparent; and frankly the material girl was mainly impressed by free-flowing
cash men of Dallas. Maybe she was ahead of her time, because looking back on Bill's exploits today, he seems creepy. Despite the physical spark, he just didn’t show enough
immediate financial attractiveness at the time, even with the allure of a wildly charming nature. But Tina’s dalliance sure made a good story for the rest of the Nineties.##
Music video: http://youtu.be/DNSUOFgj97M
Music video: http://youtu.be/DNSUOFgj97M
"Some boys try, and some boys lie but
That's alright with me;
If they can't raise my int-rest, then-I
Have to let them be-ee.” (Madonna) ©Warner
Bros. 1985
Fiction©Mark
H. Pillsbury (2015)
