I became interested in politics while a freshman at Florida Southern during Clinton's second term which seemed, unfortunately, to have been dominated by the Lewinsky affair, whether by design or happenstance. The majority in the Lakeland area were up in arms about the President's extramarital relations performed right in the nation's sacred Oval Office. Thus, they not only wanted him impeached, but beheaded. Central Florida is predominantly right-wing, the extreme intolerant variety. It is commonly known as the "I-4 Corridor" for Interstate 4 which slices the state in half, from Tampa to Daytona.
As a non-conformist, I refused to share their sentiments, although declaring myself a Libertarian and registering Republican -- for nothing other than the sake of my own best interest. Yes, I was an opportunist, guilty as charged. Because I really didn't believe in basic GOP doctrine. I was no ideologue either, which type dominates the party at present. But I wanted to take advantage of the situation to further my own ambitions. The GOP was simply a stepping-stone.
In 1998 I inquired about serving as an intern or congressional page in Washington. Soon thereafter, Representative Mark Stadler's administrative assistant called to congratulate me on being selected to serve as a page on Stadler's staff. It seemed such an honor to have been chosen from among hundreds of applicants.
At the end of the semester, I hastily packed and drove my old '88 Honda to Washington DC. It was an adventure about which I'd only dreamed. After meeting other interns, four of us arranged to rent an apartment together because housing was so prohibitive in the DC area. Only the very wealthiest interns rented solo.
The morning I met Congressman Stadler was an eye-opener. Stadler had arrived in Washington with dozens of other freshmen Republicans as a direct result of Gingrich's Republican revolution of '94 where GOP leaders presented their 'Contract With America.' I honestly was not impressed with this bullshit which was generously dished out to an ignorant electorate. But I went along for the ride despite misgivings.
Mark Stadler was strikingly handsome -- with his red hair, green eyes, and great physique indicating he worked out rigorously. I was impressed. But what caught my attention was the way his eyes darted about the room focusing on particular young men, fresh recruits to his congressional page brigade. Stadler was allowed ten, and nine of them were males -- just out of college or between semesters. Only one female was present, probably a token or the daughter of some big contributor. All nine guys were mouth-wateringly attractive. I was an inactive gay at the time for reason of convenience, nothing else. But this room full of hunks drove me insane; plus they carried the same interests as I.
My first thought: "How could a so-called conservative Christian politician whose electability solely depended on his behavior while in office act in such a manner to compromise his re-election?" Lakeland-Winter Haven was a right-wing bastion, not some freaky left-wing Massachusetts district on Cape Cod which elects a Barney Frank every term.
Then it dawned on me, "There's method to his madness." All politicians caught in the web of scandal seemed to have been implicated by affairs with females, not males. So, having a secret affair with another man, at that time anyhow, seemed less risky. Especially if the politician was skilled enough to put out a believable anti-gay message. It's like Jimmy Swaggart preaching against adultery all those years so he could divert attention away from his own affairs. Congressmen pull the same trick, I learned.
Ken Starr had just uncovered Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky, a female, and the discovery provided red-meat to a right-wing movement determined to take power at any cost, ethics and the nation's best interests be damned.
Newt Gingrich, House Speaker, also left himself wide open to attack by his careless sexual trysts with female staffers. And guess who outed him? Tom DeLay, who seized the opportunity, thereby arranging Gingrich's premature departure so he could take his place or else choose his replacement thereby accumulating more power for himself. Gingrich had earlier outed Speaker Jim Wright of Fort Worth so he could take his place; then Tom DeLay outed Newt to take his place; now Tom DeLay is indicted and outed for not only campaign finance violations but protecting the sex-slave trade in the Mariannas, a U.S. protectorate. It's dog eat dog.
Capitol Hill and all inside the Beltway were awash in scandal; it was a sea of corruption (and still is) where bigger fish swallow the smaller as accepted behavior. It's a game of "Who can out whom the quickest." Or "Who can cover up the most the best." Those that hid the most corruption and cronyism were called "successful," and those who made careless mistakes that were later uncovered were called "failures." It wasn't the crime, it was getting caught committing the crime.
So, this was the atmosphere I walked into the summer of '98. Stadler was stunningly good-looking, had packed his page complement with gorgeous young men from throughout his home district, and was obviously a closeted gay himself -- or else deeply appreciative of male anatomy; I wasn't sure which. At first.
Six weeks went by after we had undergone orientation and got our feet wet. More or less we were simply "gofers" ("go-fors") as they called them. But we were privileged to sit behind the congressmen at committee meetings televised by CSPAN. I honestly think it was for window-dressing, because all we did was sit there and look pretty. Millions watch CSPAN, so the more attractive the people in the background, the better for the politician. It was all about PR and photo-ops.
Once in a while we'd do actual work, like helping compile records, research topics limited to unclassified materials, opposition research ("dirt-digging"), and editing speeches and articles published in national and regional periodicals. Seldom were we allowed to speak directly to the congressman's constituents, at least never about policy. We were allowed to respond to emails, but only with preselected text, never our own. It boiled down to they had no trust in us.
Ironically, most of the representative's policy papers originated from RNC headquarters and arrived daily as "talking-points." Yes, the congressman read a canned script written by people over him seldom seen. He was rarely allowed an original thought, much less permitted to introduce resolutions and/or amendments outside what headquarters produced that was, in truth, created by lobbyists. In effect, only party-sanctioned lobbyists were allowed to propose legislation; congressmen simply served as conduits who "on-the-record" introduced legislation for the camera-eye, but such legislation was composed by lobbyists behind the curtain. Congressmen were downgraded to spokesmen for lobbyists and lobbyist served as puppets to major corporations and special interests who, in turn, never propose anything in the general public's best interest, only their own. No wonder the country's falling apart. Everything that masquerades as patriotic is destroying democracy as we once knew it.
The "K Street Project" was designed by Stadler and DeLay to solidify one-party rule over America. The plan went like this: DeLay and party leaders signed contracts with lobby firms which denied employment to non-party lobbyists while guaranteeing positions to retired and former congressmen loyal to the party. All others were excluded, hence, guaranteeing the GOP a lock on power. Lobbyists outside the "Project" were essentially neutered, carried no influence on legislation whatsoever. As a result "K Street" firms hired only Republicans and approached only a few token Democratic legislators on Capitol Hill because Democrats had no authority to introduce bills. The effect was the reintroduction of fascism, not representative democracy by any stretch.
Oh, I almost forgot. The most unusual twist occurred at orientation when Congressman Stadler's assistant presented us with non-disclosure agreements and informed us that our signatures were mandatory, not optional, if we were continue on staff. Although not on payroll, we were compelled to sign.
We read over the contract and one paragraph stood out: "Current and past pages under the supervision of Representative Mark Stadler will not disclose to the media or to any other person(s) outside this office any conduct or perceived conduct of the Congressman or his associates at any time, current or future, ad infinitum."
In other words, we were not allowed to rat on the congressman no matter what the offense, no matter what he did, good or bad. Whistleblowing was out of the question and we weren't provided immunity under any federal statute should we squeal to law enforcement or to the ethics committee. Federal whistleblowing protections defaulted to the congressman's contract by way of our signatures, and no one in government would back us up if we did. It was more than a threat; it was a promise.
We signed, of course. But it raised a big red flag. What was Stadler hiding? What was he like behind the mask?
In a few days we found out. Stadler invited us nine male pages to a reception in the same Watergate complex as his condo to supposedly meet some defense contractors, a few pharmaceutical CEOs and their friends. Mark's wife had flown down to Lakeland for the weekend, so it looked sort of fishy. Congressman Duke Cunningham was there, along with Jack Abramoff, Tom DeLay and a whole bunch of guys from Carlyle, Enron, Halliburton, Bechtel, United Defense and Rand Corporation. Plus over a dozen guys from "K" Street where most of the lobbyists hung out when they weren't on Capitol Hill writing legislation under the table for reps and senators.
Well, it was one helluva party. The congressmen gambled and corporate heads and their puppets arranged for the players to "win." Big time. As in tens of thousands each on that one night alone. Yeah, the tables were rigged to make the politicians win so corporate "donations" couldn't be misconstrued as bribery or illegal campaign financing. There's more ways than one to skin a cat, whether under the table or changing the law to fit the crime. It only takes money. Lots of it. That's how sick the system is.
Whichever. Congressmen took in thousands in bribe money. Then the defense contractors had another surprise in store. From a back door several naked prostitutes strode into the room. Yeah, totally naked! I couldn't believe my eyes. Congressmen and senators were allowed to choose from among the "selections." Then it was suggested they pay for their escorts with poker money they'd just "earned." Mind you, these were "Christian right-wing conservative" politicians, not the "immoral" left-wing.
But the most startling discovery among the lineup of prostitutes was that a quarter of them were guys! Nude males! I could only imagine what the reaction would be in congressmen's home districts should voters find out. Or if someone had a hidden camera somewhere and released pics to the media. Or the FBI.
From the congressmen's choices, we could visibly detect their preferences. Talk about "open government"! Most of the men chose females; but over a quarter chose males; and two chose a combination of both. Incredible. And they were picking hookers right in front of us.
I noticed one senator, the junior from Pennsylvania, chose a male escort. He was infamous, we were informed, for picking up high-priced male hookers in Manhattan while on "business." He was the most radical anti-abortion, anti-gay guy in the room. Good-looking guy. But a total hypocrite.
The next shock was when our own Congressman Stadler chose a "male escort" for the night. (As if we should've been surprised?) The escort only wore a bow-tie around his neck, nothing else. I guess he was dressed "formally" in keeping with the "congressional" atmosphere. And, of course, he was strikingly beautiful. Looked better than a model. Long 10" cock, rippled abs, firm muscular asscheeks, legs and arms of steel. And gorgeous face, glistening white teeth and smile.
As Mark Stadler clasped hands with the naked escort, he approached us at the other end of the room and asked, "You fellows want to hang out with us at my place? I've got plenty of beer and videos. Please, join us."
It was more like an imperative than an invitation. We sensed another mandatory directive where we were obligated to comply. Or else.
In a way we were petrified at what we had just witnessed. But in another, we wanted to indulge. All nine pages happened to be gay; Stadler knew it before our arrival to DC. His application process was a sham where the congressman investigated our sex lives more than our college transcripts and/or any other facet of our backgrounds, including items necessary for security clearance.
Stadler handed the escort a robe to wear on the way to his condo. It was just a brief walk, but Bob and Elizabeth Dole lived two doors down and would have suffered cardiac arrests had they seen a naked man out the window accompanied by the well-known congressman and his staff.
We arrived at Stadler's lavish condo to find the TV on and a gay-video playing. Not just any trashy porn, but the best quality European gay video where the "actors" seemed in better shape than American counterparts and there were actual plots to the episodes.
"You boys relax and get comfortable while I go change. No reason you can't get out of those damn clothes too," Stadler strongly suggested.
We sensed another imperative. So we each slipped out of our clothes, folding them neatly in the corner. Then we sat on the couches to watch the videos. Four of the guys showed immediate erections. Mine was still flaccid. The thought struck me, "What if Momma saw me now?" Imagine the disbelief in that dear ol' church-lady's eyes.
A few minutes later, Mark Stadler appeared with his escort -- both stark naked. I'd never seen the congressman nude until now, even at workouts. His dick was already at attention almost up to his bellybutton. Mark was holding the escort's hand, then kissed him for our notice. I guess that was a signal for all of us to get into whatever arrangement we liked.
I chose my best friend to couple with, and he was already prepared for my advances. Somehow he knew my thoughts. Some of the guys got down on all fours on the floor and started fucking. The Congressman preferred the largest couch. After preps, he mounted his escort from behind and started humping uncontrollably. His eyes were closed as he tilted his head back in pleasure, his mouth dropping open. The escort let out yelps, then groans of pleasure. Mark thrust himself deep inside the escort's ass, then shook erratically at climax. Stadler released his load while thrust all the way inside the guy without protection, then withdrew and went to the bathroom to wash off.
I was still in shock. However, I went ahead and made love with Larry on the carpet. I bottomed. Four of the guys got into one hookup. It was a great sight to behold.
The next Monday, the House was in session and Congressman Stadler took the floor to announce a proposal to amend a spending bill to include an unrelated provision restricting hate-crimes legislation aimed at gays. In other words, he wanted to exclude gays from hate-crime laws. What an asshole!
Of course, it was for the audience back home, not what he truly believed. Everything revolved around photo-ops, nothing was based on conviction or the basic good of the people. Politicians in Congressman Stadler's circle claimed to be people of principle, of high moral values originating from the Bible -- unlike the opposition party which they ridiculed day and night. Yet, the very ones pointing fingers were the ones most guilty of such behavior they supposedly despised -- focusing on proposed legislation most pleasing to the base. "Men of character" they were called. Yeah, right. If only their supporters could see them in action at the Watergate!
I thought the one night's escapade was the finalé. Until Congressman Stadler called me on my cellphone inviting me over, alone, to dinner one night. Again, it was an offer I couldn't refuse. After dining at a fancy restaurant, Mark drove me to his condo and fucked my brains out. I felt the Congressman's hot cum splatter all the way in my bowels. I was his "whore" while his wife was away. I was the "class pet."
Another time Stadler flew all nine of us down to Fort Lauderdale for a so-called convention. He accompanied us to an all-male strip club were patrons were allowed to dance nude on the floor after midnight. It was near Halloween, so customers wore traditional costumes along with the more bizarre. After midnight we all discarded the costumes and only wore masks. It was a private club, so open-fucking was permitted. Congressman Stadler asked me for a dance; I consented. He wore a mask not only for the occasion but to hide his identity.
Stadler ended up ramming his cock up my ass after preparation; then danced with the music while inside me. It was difficult to dance totally connected, but we managed.
We retired to his yacht on the waterway after 3 a.m., all ten of us.
It wasn't until 2006 when the truth finally came out about the Watergate parties. They called the scandal "Pokergate" for the fake poker games and congressmen's "poker" of prostitutes. Congressman Stadler was implicated along with several more senators, representatives and top CIA officials -- all the way up to the White House. In the end, Stadler got off the hook because someone in the White House pulled strings with the prosecutor from the Justice Department. Only those on the president's shit-list ever faced prosecution.
It goes to show you -- doesn't matter what your party affiliation or ideology. Sexual drives get the best of you, no matter how steeped in religion or politics of destruction. The ones that complain the loudest about immorality are the guiltiest.
Years later after I landed a job in Las Vegas, I met my former congressman while he was on another business trip. After serving three terms, Mark was hired as a lobbyist for Citrus Mutual and was hitting his successor up to write legislation beneficial to his client.
I had heard through the grapevine that Stadler's wife had discovered him in bed with a guy at their Lakeland residence. Joann was supposed to be visiting her parents down in Bartow but arrived home two hours earlier than expected.
Mark persuaded her to keep it quiet so he could complete his term and retire to a more lucrative job -- lobbyist. To save-face and maintain financial security, she consented to this arrangement.
How do I know all this? I was well-acquainted with the guy Rep. Stadler was porking that night. Dan was a friend of mine who was the lead-singer in a well-known gospel group; so, he had to keep his gay life secret as much as Stadler. They both attended a fundamentalist mega-church in Lakeland, and if this ever got out, they'd both be history.
Anyhow, when I met Stadler that night in Vegas, he had no clue I knew his secrets. And for all he knew, I would never violate my non-disclosure agreement. Because if I did, the party was known to hire hitmen. Or arrange "small plane crashes." I remained silent.
Stadler asked, "Hey, you want to accompany me to Bohemian Grove?"
I had no idea what or where that was. So, Mark let me in on the big secret. "That's where world leaders retreat to a mountain resort in the redwoods and bang other guys for a week without anyone else in the world finding out."
I was not shocked. Should I have been? But I was intrigued, "Sure. Why not? What should I bring?"
"Yourself and as little to wear as possible. I know some statesmen who'd like to get a good look at you without clothes," Stadler elaborated.
I visited Bohemian Grove as Stadler's escort. And against my predisposition was shocked seeing presidents, kings and prime ministers fornicate openly with beautiful young men from all over the world. I cannot divulge some of the most strange pagan rituals -- too outrageous to be believed. But perhaps in another story....
It was a pleasure to serve as a congressional page. And evidently the pleasure continues. Because as a result of this experience, I've networked with world leaders only few on the planet could only hope to imagine.
------------------------------------------------------------ NOTE: The above story is written as a fiction-fantasy. 5/23/06
If interested, write to MtWhiteRock@aol.com Derek Hammil