Fork in the Road

FORK IN THE ROAD By Scott Turner Chapter 16

"If you come to a fork in the road, take it." -Yogi Berra

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction that occasionally contains rather graphic depictions of sexual activity between consenting adult men. If that's not your cup of tea, or if it is illegal for you to possess or read such material, then please go elsewhere. This story is copyrighted, 2008, and may not be reproduced, reposted or published without the expressed permission of the author.

Jeremy Frick had done an excellent job in seeing that only one member of the party in Brown County would seek Clete VanderHoeffel's seat. Sharon Lombardi was ideal. Two others had expressed an interest, but Frick had convinced them that she had his blessing and would enjoy the fullest possible support of the campaign committee. A little arm-twisting and the promise of support, should they want to run for other city or county offices, sealed the deal.

And the fact that her last name was Lombardi didn't hurt either. Sharon Wilke had married a man who had no blood relationship to the legendary Green Bay coach but who shared the name. It didn't matter. The name alone had enormous cachet throughout the state. She'd lived in the district with her husband and two children for nearly fifteen years, worked as a paralegal, served on the PTA at her kids' school, and was a doting soccer mom. She was also a long-time activist within the party. And, in Frick's judgment, she was malleable. She was perfect.

They nearly knocked each other over with swinging doors to the Senate chamber. Wade Conger was storming out just as Scott was storming in, both of them running a little late. Conger had a box under one arm and a couple packages of material bearing the EconoPrint logo under the other.

Scott forced a smile. "Whoa! Wade! You're going the wrong way aren't you?" Wade was a full timer who'd been on the caucus staff for about two years. He was constantly angling for his big break: a vacancy in one of the senators' offices, maybe something with the governor after the fall elections, and he asked Scott continually about Maureen's plans. He was a tall, skinny brunette with a thin mustache that Scott thought made him look a bit suspicious. Get rid of the `stache and he was an annoying Ken doll of unbridled ambition and a general pain in the ass.

"Nope. I'm spending the day up in Green Bay, and I'm probably going to be late getting there. I had to stop in here to pick up some stuff, but really need to hustle. See you tomorrow." And he was gone.

After logging on, he went through the usual routine: coat on the back of the chair, rinse out the mug and fill it with mediocre coffee in the break room, banter with the staff in there and then resume his dedicated service to the members of the Wisconsin State Senate and the good people of America's Dairyland.

He called Greg quickly before digging into his day. He knew the call would wake him up, but didn't care. The phone rang three times. He heard Greg clear his throat and then, "Ah, hullllo?"

"Good morning, sunshine. Quit scratching your nuts and get your ass out of bed."

Greg flopped back on his pillow. "Jesus, Scott! It's not even eight-thirty yet. Are you insane? I don't have class today `til noon."

"And I've been up since five-thirty, ran three miles and have been in the office for ten minutes."

Greg sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "Well, you're a freak."

Scott grinned. Greg's disposition was finally warming, after their trip to the cabin. So Scott prodded him. "I know you have class at noon, but are you forgetting something else on the schedule today?"

There was a long pause and then a meek "No. I didn't forget.""

"Promise me you're going to go, Greg. I've heard good things about this counselor and have a friend who attends one of her groups. Can't tell you who, but we've had a couple classes together and this chick really has her shit together."

Greg sat up and dropped his feet onto the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair once and then scratched his head. "I'm going, okay?!"

"I want to hear you say I promise.' You've sounded a bit reluctant since you made this appointment. I'm worried. I need to hear you say it. I promise.'"

"I promise! I promise!" Greg was shaking his head and becoming a little annoyed. "Jeez! I'll give you a full report when I see you tomorrow."

Scott read the tone of voice loud and clear. "Not necessary. I don't need to know what you cover in a meeting like that. You can share with me as little or as much as you want. I just want to know for sure that you're going to meet with her. Like I said, I'l do what I can to help, and can listen all day, but you need more than my ear."

Greg was awake now and some humor had returned. "Bullshit. You're here to nag me and make me uncomfortable. And...your ear isn't what's on my mind right now."

Scott snickered. "Love to piss you off `cuz the making up is so much fun."

Greg giggled. "Yeah, it is."

"Hey, bud. I need to get to work here. Just needed to hassle your ass and hear the big `P-word.'"

Greg smirked. "I love it when you hassle my ass. And I promise, I promise, I promise. Have a good one, bud. See you tomorrow?"

"Your place at eight. Have a great day. And," he paused to inhale and scratch his head, "good luck today Greg. This is an important first step."

Greg heard the anxiety over the humor. "I know. Thanks. Now get back to work."

"Bye." Scott hung up the receiver and chewed on a pen for a few minutes.

He put down the pen and went back to the in-box. There was an e-mail from Penny Harrington. She was another full-timer, relatively new to the caucus and someone who apparently had some ambition of her own, though not as blatant as Wade's. Actually, Scott liked her.

He read through the e-mail. "Scott, I have some questions for you re: Senator McCarthy. You know, sadly, that there's a big vacancy in her office, and I'm told you're the resident expert on all things Maureen. When you have a minute, could you stop by? I'd like to chat. I'll be out of the office all day tomorrow, so today or the day after tomorrow would be perfect. And, can we keep this just between us? Thanks. Penny."

He grinned. So Penny wants to move up. About seven months in and already wants out.' He set his phone to away,' heated up his coffee and strolled to the back of the cubes where most of the full time staff worked. Passing by Conger's cube he glanced left because Wade's phone was ringing. There was a chair next to the entrance to the cube with a stack of green bumper stickers and another couple packs of the same EconoPrint packs. He did a double take. "Lombardi for State Senate," blared the stickers. He picked one up and looked at it. He wanted to open the packages of printing, but knew he couldn't. Oh, shit,' he thought. He can't be that dense.'

Scott made his way through the small maze and found Penny's cube. "Knock knock!"

She looked up. "Hi, Scott! Got my e-mail, I take it?"

Sure did. He helped himself to the vacant chair. "But, can I make a suggestion?"

Her eyes widened and she nodded.

"Uhm, well I'm not gonna tell you how to do your job, but I'll respectfully suggest that you might want to think about what you put in an e-mail from your desk. All of our communications are the property of the State of Wisconsin. If any member, especially Senator Frick, wanted to access your office e-mails, they can do it. If any media outlet, or even any citizen for that matter, wants to read our e-mails, internal or external, all they need to do is file a request and it's all their's. So, if you're looking to move on and want to keep it quiet, then don't put it in an e-mail. If you want to keep it between us, as you suggested, then don't put it in an e-mail. Come and see me, pin me down in the hallway, call me at home or offer to buy me a drink after work."

Her hand went to her chest and she gasped. "God, what an idiot! I knew that, or should have known." "Well, enough said. Let me try to address what I think you asked. Maureen McCarthy is an old friend of my family's. She dated my dad and she introduced my dad to my mom. She's been a dear friend of mine for years, so you're not going to get a very objective view here. You may want to ask a few others. She's been my political and often intellectual mentor for years. She's extremely smart, in my judgment, an incredibly sharp politician, and she has impeccable integrity. She pulls no punches and doesn't suffer fools gladly. She has a gift for telling people the things they don't want to hear and make them accept, sometimes even like, what she has to say. I'd bet all I own that she's going to be our next Attorney General and very likely our first female governor."

Penny gawked at him and whispered. "Holy cow! I've heard really good things about her and I'm really interested in that position in her office."

Scott leaned back. "Well, the path to job changes here is through the Chief Clerk's office. I'd say, get the paperwork for a transfer in and then give her a call. Let her know you've applied. Draw up a list of questions that you'd like answered about who she is and where she's coming from. Don't just take my word for it. Like I said, I'm more than a little biased. Don't look desperate, but interested, but convey the idea that you don't need the job. Don't kiss her ass. Don't grovel. She respects people who respect themselves."

He gulped some coffee and scratched his head. "And now, if I may, I need to ask something."

She shrugged. "Fire away."

He propped his elbows on his knees. "You said in your message that your were going to be out of the office tomorrow, up in Green Bay all day. Mind if I ask what you'll be doing there? I mean you told me once you were from Michigan and didn't have any family in the state so I'm guessing it's not a vacation day."

She shook her head. "Heck, no. I'm not going to burn a vacation day to work on a campaign."

"Lombardi?"

Penny shrugged. "Of course. Senator Frick sends one or two of us out of here each week to do some of the campaign work."

Scott sighed. "Penny, did you realize that's probably illegal?"

Her jaw dropped. "It is not. We're going up there because our boss told us to. We work for the party. It's only logical."

He shook his head. "Penny. We're government employees, not political operatives. We work for the people of the State of Wisconsin no matter what side of the aisle they support. If somebody who voted against Senator Frick or against Senator McCarthy calls asking for help, and then Will Maxson comes in and says `get me some answers to this,' we don't ask about the person's politics. We're in the business of good government. We're not in the business of political action. Government and politics aren't always the same thing. If we start mixing them up it could get scary. Legal scary!"

Her expression said she wasn't quite getting it. "Penny, suppose your mailman asked who you voted for before he'd agree to deliver your mail? What if a teacher only agreed to help one of your kids if your politics were `correct?' Is it okay to take taxpayer money and pay for advocating only this side or that side of any one political battle?"

It looked as if the light finally went on, and then she stared for a moment at a spot on the wall. Finally, her eyes focused back on Scott. "So what do I do?"

Scott sucked in some air, held it and then released it again. "Don't know. Never ran into something like this. I guess if I were in your shoes, just learning this now, I'd call in sick tomorrow. Then I'd look into it further while I put the wheels in motion regarding Maureen's office and hope for the best. You're not in much of a position to challenge Frick on stuff like this."

She nodded. "I don't like Green Bay very much anyway. I didn't really want to go."

Scott grinned. "Bite your tongue. Legends were forged in Green Bay."

She grinned. "I don't like guys with big guts, or gals for that matter, and I don't give a damn about football. That place is like a cult."

Scott stood up. "Yeah, ain't it great?" He chugged on his cooling coffee one more time. "Well, I need to go and clear my desk and my in-box. You gotta do whatever it is you gotta do. Want to talk about this or the other thing any more, let's keep it face to face."

She smiled softly. "Thanks a lot, Scott. If I need anything else, can I have that drink after work?"

Scott smiled and nodded. "Any time." He ambled down the aisle trying as hard as he could to appear casual and relaxed. In his head there was a voice shouting "Holy Fucking Shit! This is gonna get a lot worse before it gets better."

When he got to his cube the next day, Wade Conger was sitting inside. "G'morning, Wade. Come on in and make yourself at home."

Wade smirked. "Sorry. Wanted to talk with you early, but not out there." His eyes pointed to the open spaces between all the cubes.

Scott took off his coat and powered up the computer. "Okay. Just let me get a cup of coffee and we can talk. Want one?"

Wade waved him off and continued chewing his thumbnail.

In a minute, Scott was back. "Okay, give me just a second and you'll have my undivided attention." He entered his login and password, and then swiveled in his chair. "So, Wade, what's up?"

Conger's face was nearly a sneer. "You tell me. What the fuck are you trying to do around here?"

Scott sipped the brew. "Er, can you be more specific, please? Even though I'm only here half days, I'm trying to do all I can."

Conger leaned forward so he wouldn't have to speak too loudly. "I get home last night and there's this frantic voicemail from Penny Harrington. So, I call her back. She says you've convinced her that her and me and about a half dozen other full timers here are breaking the law."

Scott leaned back. "Wade. Were you up in Green Bay yesterday campaigning for Lombardi?"

He nodded. "Of course I was. We're a PARTY caucus, you know. We need to hang onto that seat. Frick sent me up to help the locals do some planning and make some calls."

Scott adjusted his posture a bit. "Wade, I'll tell you exactly what I said to Penny. I told her that we're working for a party caucus with a legitimate mission of serving members already elected. I also pointed out that the law prohibits us from diving into direct election stuff when we're on the public dime. We can do electioneering on our own time, but not while we're getting paid."

"Well, she's freaking and called in sick today. Frick doesn't know the real reason she's staying home, but he's kinda pissed about it." He shook his head and snorted. "Turner, you are gonna fuck up the whole works here with this kinda talk. Dude! Knock it off. Just shut the fuck up! You're a part-timer and your bread is already buttered by Maureen McCarthy."

Scott sat up straight. "I butter my own bread, thanks, and Senator McCarthy hasn't broken any laws by being a friend of mine. Wade, if this gets out it's gonna blow up. It's gonna hurt both the caucus and the party. Not to mention that it's just plain wrong."

Wade curled his lip. "But it's been going on for a long time. When Frick became Caucus Chair, we started doing what we all do best: politics. And we're doing it at his direction, so our asses are covered." He thought for a moment and arched his brows. "You said anything to anybody else about this?"

Scott shook his head. "Nope. Don't see the need right now. I'm hoping it'll stop and we'll all move on, one big happy family."

Wade sat back. "And just how do you imagine it's gonna stop?"

Scott thought for a moment. "Well, I guess if it were up to me those of you who have been engaging in these illegal practices would ask Senator Frick straight out: `Senator, is what you're directing us to do exactly legal?'"

Wade snorted. "Yeah, right. The man's gonna be the next majority leader. Just what I want to do is piss him off. Christ, he'll be hiring two or three additional staff members in that office when he follows McCarthy, and I'm gonna be one of them."

Scott shrugged. "Do what ya' gotta do, Wade. I'm just saying it's against the law and it could come back to haunt you. And, to my understanding, the `Frick told me to' defense wouldn't mean diddly to anybody if or when this shit hits the fan. You could seriously get your tit in a wringer."

Wade bit his thumbnail again. "But you haven't discussed this with anybody else?"

"Nope. I'm hopeful that you guys can fix it yourselves."

Wade checked his watch. "Okay. Whatever. I gotta get to a meeting. Catch ya' later." And he bolted from the cube.

Saturday morning, Scott met Grant at a coffee house about half way between their apartments. They sipped from their oversized steaming mugs and munched their way through two over-sized gooey cinnamon rolls.

"Come on, Grant! Bruce Weeden might be able to turn a blind eye to a lot of shit, but not this! It is illegal, plain and simple, black letter law. State paid employees must not spend their state paid time directly supporting election campaigns. I just told you I've talked to two of our staffers who have routinely been doing just that at Jeremy Frick's direction." He chewed and swallowed a big wad of soft, sweet pastry, licked his lips and then his fingers. "And as far as I can tell, it's still going on. I'd say at least one full-time staffer is out of the office two or three days a week. They get more vacation and sick time than I do, but do you think they're catching colds or `bugs" on a rotating basis? These aren't sick days! Will is gone and Frick is running the show through the summer. He'll handpick his new director who is going to follow orders without question."

Grant shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Am I glad I got out of there when the getting was good." He thought about it for a minute. "I don't know, Scott. I'll talk to Bruce. I'll tell him I know somebody on the caucus staff who shared this. But it's pretty much second hand. You were never approached by Frick and haven't done any campaigning. You've just talked to two who told you they did. Probably not enough good sourcing there to run with something like this in the paper right away."

"So Frick's corruption continues until you get better sourcing?"

Cornell shrugged. "Well, yeah. This could be serious shit, but I'm not sure there's enough here right now to devote any time, let alone any ink." He licked the icing from his fingertips. "Tell you what. I'll run it by Bruce, and you keep me posted when you hear or know more about all this stuff."

Early Sunday morning, Scott went out for a run, but he made it fairly short. It was bitterly cold and his nostrils were running too. After a long hot shower he fed both pets and booted up the computer. There was an e-mail from Sonja Weiss. "Hey, Turner. D-Day is almost upon us. Looks like we're all good. Pretty sure we'll have 16 votes from the floor. Give me a call when you have a minute and we can nail everything down before tomorrow night.

Scott read bits and pieces of the Sunday paper, watched the morning news programs and kept and eye on the clock. He wanted to call Greg and Sonja, but not too early. Greg had been out with the team the previous night and he had no idea what kind of hours Sonja was in the habit of keeping, but it was a Sunday morning. Tough time to call people. The paper had sent Craig to Chicago to cover an up and coming band, and Brett was over at Angie's. The fattest cat and the dog actually played together for a time, to Scott's amusement. The cat would swat the dog's snout and the dog would shove the cat around like a dust mop. It was cute.

After contemplating domestic and foreign issues with Russert and then Stephanopolous, talking back to the TV every time he heard something stupid, Scott picked up the phone. He'd catch up with Bob Schieffer and Wolf Blitzer later.

"Hello?"

"You're up early for a Sunday."

Greg grinned at the sound of Scott's voice. "Well, I didn't stay out too late. Been up for an hour. Gonna jump in the shower in a minute."

Scott leered. "Mmmmmm. Wish I could join you."

Greg leered back. "Me too. You always know just how to apply the soap, and where."

Scott's smile bloomed. "Denny's in an hour?"

"Denny's in an hour is good."

"See ya'." Scott hung up and pictured Greg in the steam-filled shower. Then he got his upper head together. Switching gears he found Sonja's cell phone number in his directory.

"Hey Turner, what's up?" Judging from the background noise, Scott figured that Sonja and her partner had gone out for breakfast too.

"Got your e-mail. Just checking in before tomorrow night's meeting. We're solid on the vote, huh?"

She took a sip of orange juice. "We're solid. I got sixteen lined up on the floor. Phil and Tara were a lot of help. I think Wharton had to use his jock charisma and twist a few arms, but whatever works, eh? It's not like we haven't signaled to Elliot that we were going to play hardball. And we've fine-tuned the numbers in the substitute amendment well enough. After the debate over the substitute amendment, we might even pick up another one or two."

"Confident in your dazzling rhetoric and indisputable reasoning, huh?"

"Damn straight."

"You should be." He paused "Sonja, thanks a lot for all your work on this. You've made a huge difference on an important issue."

"Well, for a straight guy, you've done a pretty good job yourself. Hey, our breakfasts are here. Time to make my stomach happy. See you tomorrow night." She hung up before he could say good-bye.

He leaned back and tapped the phone to his chin. `For a straight guy.'

Greg was already at Denny's scanning the menu when Scott walked in. The waitress was very prompt and Scott ordered coffee and water, but waved off the menu. "I know what I want, but my buddy here takes forever to make up his mind, so we'll need a few minutes before we order." Greg kicked him under the table. "So, no workout this weekend?"

Greg shook his head. "This weekend would've been a Sunday, but coach is really happy with what he's seeing and gave us the day off in honor of the Super Bowl."

"You coming over to watch it with us?"

"Planning on it. Did you tell me that the guys are gonna be there?"

"Yep. Craig's bringing a couple frozen deep dish pizzas from Chicago later today, Brett's getting the beer, and I'm on munchies patrol."

Greg dumped another pack of sugar into his coffee. "What can I bring?"

Scott gulped his water and grinned. "Just your cute little butt."

Greg smirked and stirred, then looked up. "A lot of good that's gonna do with your roommates around. Nothing against Craig and Brett, but I have to keep my hands to myself when they're around. It'd be nice to be able to curl up together on the couch and watch the game."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, it would. But there will be no cuddling tonight. Sorry." He changed topics. "So, how's the counseling going?"

The waitress saw Greg put down the menu and appeared, pen and pad in hand. After she left, Greg smiled and nodded. "It's going great, and Dr. Wilkerson says she thinks I'm making real progress. I can get through most of a day without thinking of my dad and Jesse. Used to be they'd haunt me during most of my waking hours and practically every night in my dreams. I've learned how to just shoo them away now."

Scott smiled softly. "That's great, Greg. Sounds like real progress."

Greg reflected for a minute. "Yeah. I want to thank you for convincing me to go and see her. I really feel like I'm getting my life together on my own. School's going better, Dad and Jesse are quickly becoming a thing of the past and my game is good. Even coach said he's noticing a difference in my focus. Said I'm playing sharper lately. And this is not a man who dishes out compliments willy nilly. Can't wait for next month to get to where we head into the early non-conference games. I want to smack a curve ball that's not being hurled from a machine.""

Scott contained a wince. `Fuck. Had to mention baseball.' He squinted. "You start playing already in March?"

Greg nodded as he chewed. He sipped his water and said, "Yeah, March is mostly non-conference games with southern schools and the few who have domed facilities. But except for the week of spring break, we'll be hittin' it hard through the end of May."

Greg leaned over and wiggled his eyebrows. Why don't you come over after breakfast? I think I have another one of my very special massages just lying around, and then we can burn off some of these calories."

Scott smiled. "Oh, you tempt me." He sighed. "But tomorrow's going to be a huge day. I need to get some shit done before the game. Raincheck?"

"You know, I'm going to be playing here or on the road practically every weekend once the season starts. Our, uhm, availability is going to be very limited."

Scott considered that for a moment, and then he leered across the table. "Race you to my car."

Twenty minutes later, their clothes were tossed about the room. Greg was on all fours on the floor, his ass in the air. Scott stood squatting above him, fingering Greg's hole with his spit-soaked digits. He went do his knees and teased the eager pucker with the head of his cock. "What do you want?"

Greg just whimpered and shoved his ass back. Scott teased him by lifting the head and letting the shaft rest in the crevice. He slid the shaft up and down two or three times and rubbed Greg's ass. He rubbed the ass cheeks firmly and then gave Greg a pat on the ass. "I said, what do you want?"

Greg reached back and was just able to reach Scott's ass. He swatted him back and pulled him further forward. "You know what I want goddammit!"

Scott's chuckle had a slightly evil tone. "Gimme a sec. Need to wrap up."

"Hurry!" Greg was already panting

The previous Friday, both newspapers on campus had trumpeted the coming of `the fee vote.' Both had editorialized as well, from polar opposite points of view. But they also insisted on the importance of student attendance at the WSA meeting. On Monday night the crowd of students overflowed into the hallway, so thick that Scott had to go all the way around the meeting room and come in through a smaller back entrance.

After setting his stuff on the podium, he walked over to Sonja. One glance and he knew something was wrong.

She sneered. "I'm going to kill him. He might have me by a good hundred pounds, but I'm still going to kill that fucker. I know how."

Scott's jaw dropped and his eyes became small saucers. "What?!"

She shook her head. "Phil! Phil fucking Wharton! I mean it, Turner, the last time you saw Phil is going to be the last time you'll ever see Phil. I've already figured out where I'm going to hide his dismembered body."

Scott expression hadn't changed. "What?! Sonja, just tell me what the problem is."

She sighed. "Well, according to his roommate, Phil was more than a little bit pleased with the game yesterday. He bet a load on the Cowboys to win the fucking Super Bowl and thought it a good idea to continue his revelry until about three this morning. Then Madison's finest intervened and nailed him for drunk and disorderly. His buddies weren't able to make bail and he's sitting in a cell downtown waiting to see a judge, which ain't gonna happen `til sometime tomorrow."

Scott clamped his eyelids and gritted his teeth. "Fuck! Fucking fuck fuck!" He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, it's the hand we've been dealt. Can't do anything about it now. But don't tell me when you intend to kill him or where the body's rotting. I might need to say under oath someday `I have no idea.'"

He looked up front. Radar was nervously tapping a pencil on the table. He checked the clock. "Three minutes to show time." He strode to the podium and huddled with the clerk for a minute. "Radar, we're not going to enjoy the company of Phil Wharton tonight."

Radar nodded. "Yeah, I heard." He shook his head and mumbled, "Dumb sonofabitch."

Scott looked back. "And everything's gonna happen on a roll call vote tonight. Hope you brought plenty of scorecards."

"Ready for anything, Scott." He checked his watch. "Uhm, it's time."

Scott nodded, grabbed the gavel and rapped the podium sharply four times. "This meeting of the WSA Student Senate will come to order. I'd like to welcome all of our guests. It appears we have some empty seats behind the elected membership. If there's an available chair next to you, would you please raise your hand. Then, some of those who are standing can fill them in. While you're doing that, I'll ask that the clerk call the roll."

Radar finished the duty and Scott tapped the gavel again as the crowd settled in. "We have a single item on tonight's agenda, the adoption of a budget recommendation that will dictate the disbursement of our student activities fees. I will now entertain a motion from the floor." Both Sonja and Elliot rose, but she was just a little quicker in calling on the chair.

"Senator Weiss."

"Mr. President, I rise to offer a substitute amendment to the finance committee's proposal. Senator Bjork, Senator Wharton and I have sponsored this substitute amendment, and it was distributed to all of our members just over a week ago in order to give them time to consider it. I move its adoption as a replacement of the proposal that came from Finance."

Tara was on her feet. "I second the motion."

Scott cleared his throat. "Before we discuss the motion, I think a bit of explanation is in line. I hope I'm not being condescending, but unless you're a political geek like me, it's not always easy to get your brain around what's about to happen." There were a few muffled chuckles and many grins at his effort at self-deprecating humor. Good,' he thought. Take a little bit of chill out of the air.'

"So permit me to explain. Sometimes amendments are offered to alter bits and pieces of the policy language that we will eventually vote on for final passage. Some are added and some are not by simple majority vote. Every now and then, however, a member will completely rewrite the proposal from top to bottom and offer it as a substitute amendment to completely replace the original recommendation. That's what we have here."

He sipped his water. "Now we'll have two questions to answer tonight. The first question is which of these competing versions of the fee disbursements the members wish to debate and then vote on. But that's only a procedural vote. I'll caution you that not everybody who votes in favor of the substitute necessarily favors its ultimate passage. During my time in the State Senate, I've seen members vote for a substitute simply because they wanted to challenge and debate whoever's in favor. Sometimes they want to `jump ugly' and raise all sorts of hell about the substance of the substitute and ultimately be on record as having defeated it. Others may support the substitute because they want to hear a full debate on its merits. Some will vote against the substitute because they want to kill it quickly and move on. So, please, in fairness to the good men and women of this body don't jump to any conclusions on what will be the first vote tonight."

Several heads nodded and Scott was happy to see both reporters from the two papers scribbling furiously.

He continued. "After the question on the substitute is discussed and voted on, we will then move to debating the merits of the proposal that is actually before us; either the original one or the substitute. Finally, we will have a vote on passage, settling the issue of fee distribution for the current year. A simple majority of the full body is required for adoption. With that, is there any discussion?"

This time Elliot beat Sonja to the punch. In the spirit of fairness and not wanting to appear biased, Scott was glad. "Senator Lyman."

"Mr. President, the finance committee worked long and hard on this proposal. We've waited months for action on it, despite the clarion calls for action by a significant number of those whom we represent. We have been answered with nothing but delay and heel-dragging on the part of this body's leadership. It is long past time for an up or down vote on this question. That's all we've ever asked for. And, with that, Mr. President, I will urge my friends and colleagues to vote `nay' on the motion to take up this substitute, and I ask for a roll call vote.

Tara was on her feet. Before calling on her, Scott addressed Lyman. "I can assure the senator that all of tonight's votes will be roll call votes. I've already directed the clerk in that regard." He turned. "Senator Bjork."

Tara cleared her throat. "Two things Mr. President. I respectfully disagree with Senator Lyman that the committee worked `long and hard,' on his measure. This proposal was the result of one three-hour meeting. He presented it to the committee just as it is now. It had already been prepared when he walked in the room at the start of that meeting. We debated it vigorously for about two hours, and then it moved to your desk on a bare majority of three to two. With due respect to the senator, it smelled like a railroad job to me." There was a muffled rumble in the crowd and Scott tapped the gavel a few times.

"Secondly, if the senator and his supporters want an up or down vote, I'll suggest that we're going to double their pleasure tonight. With this motion to substitute the plan I'm co-sponsoring, they'll get two, not one, but two up and down votes. One would think he'd be delighted."

A few short-lived snickers could be heard as she sat down.

"Thank you, senator. Is there further discussion on the motion to approve the substitute amendment for further discussion and final action?" Nobody moved or said a thing. "Okay, those in favor of considering and acting on the substitute will vote aye.' Those wishing to dismiss the substitute and take up the original proposal for discussion and action will vote nay.' The clerk will call the roll."

Scott grabbed a pen and ticked off the ayes' and nays.' At the mid-way point he had to suppress a grin. After the final vote was tallied, Walter handed the roll call slip to Scott. He grabbed the gavel and looked at the crowd. "By a majority of four votes, the substitute is approved for our consideration and action." The crowd erupted in a mix of applause and boos.

Scott rapped the gavel. "Ladies and gentlemen, I realize that this is an issue fraught with emotion, and we're glad you're all here. But I need to respectfully request that you all refrain from any sort of demonstrations while we are in session."

The crowd simmered down and Scott looked at Sonja. "Since she is the primary sponsor of the proposal now before us, the chair recognizes Senator Sonja Weiss."

Sonja stood, cleared her throat and sipped her water. "Thank you Mr. President. And I thank the members for allowing us all to deliberate and act on our proposal. I urge the members, in the most ardent voice I can muster to vote in favor of this plan. There are several reasons for this, and I believe you will see, if you don't already, that we have adequately addressed the concerns voiced by Senator Lyman and many of his supporters."

"First of all, please consider one important fact. Our student body has grown by nearly fifteen hundred students since last year, and the Regents raised the student activity fee by one dollar per student. That's about forty five thousand more dollars in the fund since last year. Luckily, we are one of the few organizations within the University with more money to spend this year. Under this proposal, nearly all student clubs and organization would see an increase in fee funding.

"Second, the last time we discussed this issue, Senator Lyman conceded that the gay and lesbian population on our campus might be as high as ten percent. Actually, he said the number was irrelevant, and I'll take him at his word on that. But, moreover, he proclaimed this was an issue of both fairness and morality. He said it was unfair for student to pay for things they didn't approve of. It was an issue of morality according to his own religious compass. He argued that it was unjust to take fees from students who were opposed to such lifestyles, as if it was any of their business. He argued that none of us should be compelled to support this or that organization against our will.

"I respectfully suggest, Mr. President, that there are two problems with his logic. First, his committee's initial proposal includes funding for organizations like an ROTC support group and one that facilitates putting our student in touch with corporate recruiters. Now, as I understand it, if I'm morally opposed to the military or have ethical objections to big business, he would still happily take my money and give it to them. But the substitute I speak for doesn't touch them for a single nickel. It leaves them alone because I realize that several of our constituents support them. I may not, but we have a duty to support all of our peers' priorities.

"Moreover, if you look at the numbers you'll see that we're recommending just under ten percent of the available fees for the groups being targeted by Senator Lyman." She sneered at Elliot. "By his own calculations, we won't be taking a penny from him or his friends in order to support these groups. Reason your way through the facts and you can say safely that the gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender students here who participate in these organizations are paying their own way." She glared again at Lyman. "Ten percent of our population; ten percent of our fees. OUR FEES!"

She took a deep breath and Scott winced. He could see the storm brewing. Sonja jabbed a finger in Lyman's direction. "We are all around you, Elliot. We feel no shame, and we won't be shafted by false prophets like you." She actually broke into song for a minute. "Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so."

The assembled crowd chuckled and a few applauded. "Not that it matters in a debate like this one at a public university, but He does, damn it! He does love me! I relish His love for me and my partner, and I bask in his love of our relationship every single day. And I AM NOT going to sit by and let you pollute His good name in your effort to treat me like some sort of heathen or infidel or a leper. Christ himself treated lepers better that you treat people that you don't even know, and whose lives have no effect on your own. You shame yourself and you shame Him in your efforts, sir!"

Sonja paused to regain her composure, took a sip of water and looked back at Lyman. "We are all God's children as He made us, and we are all American citizens. To my mind, that's a great combination. My maker and my Founding Fathers have both endowed me with certain unalienable rights, and you WILL NOT take them away from me or from anyone else." She saw Scott wipe his brow as she took another drink from her water. She looked at the floor and shook her head. "Shame on you, Mr. Lyman. Shame on you!!" Then she looked at Scott. "Mr. President, I yield the floor."

Lyman was squirming and he was seething. He slowly stood up. "Mr. President?"

Scott nodded. "Senator Lyman."

Elliot wiped his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. "Mr. President, ladies and gentleman. The senator is quick to abhor what she views as bigotry and discrimination. But you will note, I hope, her willingness to embrace the spirit and the Word of God.

"For the past several decades, Mr. President, our society has chased God out of our classrooms, out of our courtrooms, chased Him and his son away from public property at Christmas time. And at the same time, this bigoted minority has encouraged and even celebrated the vilest offenses in His eyes!" He took a breath and pointed back at Sonja. "We can all tell ourselves that Jesus loves us in order to make ourselves feel better, but it isn't that easy. Many of us need to repent, and all of us need to stop supporting that degrading lifestyle. If you want to write your own ticket to Hell, that's one thing. Don't ask me to pay for it!"

He turned to the members and the crowd behind them. "Look around at the sin and perversion gripping our society. AIDS and other diseases. Promiscuity and meaningless sexual relations are an abomination in the eyes of our Lord. These people don't need to be supported with student funds. They need to be saved!

"Indeed, revealed Scripture teaches us, `If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own hands.'

"For us to encourage the ultimate condemnation of our fellow students by supporting these organizations would be shameful detestable and sinful in the eyes of God. To facilitate the formation of groups who inculcate their members that their deviant behavior is normal and acceptable only harms them in so many ways. And, again, we pave the way for these poor souls to their own final damnation."

He rubbed his face and sighed. "Ladies and gentlemen, we owe it to our fellow students, to this community, to our great and glorious society at large to do whatever we can to turn back the swelling tide that taints us all. What my committee proposed might be a small first step in the right direction. But I make a final plea to this body that it is indeed the correct path for the salvation of us all. I urge you to vote `nay' on this substitute and let us move on to the committee's initial proposal.

"God bless you all. Thank you, Mr. President." He sat down. There was not a sound to be heard throughout the lecture hall.

Scott blinked a few times, and then scanned the faces of the membership. "Is there further discussion?" He looked at Sonja who just slowly shook her head left and right. He inhaled. "Very well. The motion before us is to approve the substitute amendment for the purpose of distributing student funds for the current school year. Those in favor of the substitute will vote aye.' Those opposed will vote nay,' and the clerk will call the roll. Scott didn't even bother to pick up his pen to keep score. Once they were all recorded, Radar handed the tally sheet to Scott without saying a word. Scott cleared his throat, "By a vote of nineteen ayes' to eleven nays' the substitute is adopted."

The crowd erupted in what were mostly cheers. Scott hammered the gavel. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is customary that the president should only cast a vote in the event of a tie. However, I will direct the clerk to let the record reflect that the chair voted in the affirmative."

There was another round of applause. "There being no other items on the agenda, I will entertain a motion to adjourn." Seven or eight voices called in unison, "So moved!" Scott grinned. "And a second?" Even more shouted "Second!" Scott didn't even call for a vote. He smacked the gavel. "We stand adjourned!"

By the time Scott finished chatting for a minute with Radar and found his way down from the podium, Elliot was nowhere to be seen. He walked up to Sonja and extended a hand. "Well you did it!"

She shook her head. "Bullshit. HE did it." She smirked. "I figured he would, but wasn't entirely positive." She looked around. "Well, Turner, I need to get out of here and have a smoke." She patted his shoulder. "Good work yourself tonight." She gathered up her coat and other materials, took two steps and turned. "But, I'm still gonna kill Wharton, you know."

Scott's cell phone was in his hand before he'd left the room. He walked across the hall and into a small classroom, found Greg's number and hit "call."

"Yo. How'd it go?"

Scott smiled. "We won. That pig-headed bastard pissed off most of the folks in the room. I think he even embarrassed a lot of the devout Christians, myself included."

Greg smiled back. "Way to go, Scott! You did a good thing tonight."

Scott sighed. "Well, I had a lot of help. I was worried going in because we lost a crucial vote when he couldn't be here. But Elliot antagonized enough people that we got it done with a couple votes to spare." There was a moment of silence. "Uhm, is Darrin around."

"He was. We went to practice and then had a bite to eat together. Now he's over at the girlfriend's place. He'll probably back around seven tomorrow morning." Greg grinned again. "Why do you ask?"

Scott cleared his throat. "You know what winning does to me?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. Makes you horny?"

"Only for you. I want to come over there and have my way with you."

Greg scoffed. "I'm working on a huge math assignment."

"When's it due?"

"Thursday."

"This is Monday. Close the book, shut down the computer, get naked, prop the door open and lay back on the bed. Don't make me go home and jack off with the dog watching."

Greg was in a teasing mood and knew he had the upper hand. "Well, then shoo the dog out, close the door, grab the lotion and knock yourself out."

Scott ran his fingers through his hair. The image of Greg lying on his bed with his huge member resting on his thigh had his own dick chubbing. He reached into his pocket and squeezed it. "Don't make me beg. Please. I need you. I need your body. I need to lie on top of you and kiss you. I need your cock in my mouth."

Greg giggled. "Maybe I want you to beg."

"Okay. Okay, I'm begging you. Pleeeeeeeease!"

Greg gripped his own swelling tool. "Fifteen minutes, and then I lock the door again."

Scott sighed. "I can be there in ten."

Scott made haste on his way down stairs and into the Union's lobby. Elliot was sitting on a bench near the exit. They glared at each other as Scott approached the door. Elliot stood, so Scott paused. "Forget something, Elliot? Maybe something from Ecclesiastes' or Lamentations'?"

He raised a finger and waved it in Scott's face. "If you think this is over, Turner, you are sadly mistaken."

Scott wasn't sure what Elliot meant by that, but at the moment he didn't care. He patted Elliot's shoulder. "Right you are, my man. The night ain't over yet, `cuz I'm on my way to getting seriously laid." He winked. "You should try it some time. Have a good evening." He bolted out the door into the cold February air.

Author's Note: Once again, sorry to those of you who love the hot, graphic sex. And, that's the last time I'll apologize for that. But I hope you'll keep reading.

Talk about ironic: I'm posting this chapter, with all it's religious content (sorry, Lord) right between Good Friday and Easter. And, Wisconsin's current Supreme Court race is attracting record amounts of out-of-state spending and third-party commercials. It's appalling! Had I seen the latest reports about James McGreevy's alleged 3-ways, I'd have put Kelly between Scott and Greg, or maybe Marty. (if that doesn't click, Google the latest on McGreevy)

The next few chapters will likely take some time, so please be patient. I have a lof of things going on right now...family, health and professional crap going on here.

As always, tons of gratitude to both Kory and Scott for their help.

And, honestly, I hope you all have a most Blessed Easter!!

(Oh, and if you're a college basketball fan and haven't already done your office bracket for the NCAA, put Wisconsin in the Final Four! I'll bet any doubters out there: let me know you're a heathen doubter, and I'll put you in one of the last four chapters, IF the Badgers don't make it.)

Be Well!

Scott

(scotty.13411@hotmail.com if you wish to send your comments. They're always welcomed and appreciated!)