Having It All: Love, Sex, Politics, Drugs and Desire: An Intimate Portrait of the Seventies

By Millicent Chartwell

Welcome to a flashback of the swinging seventies, where the drugs, music, sex, and politics all converged to create provocative memories for baby boomer women and the men who love them.

Clarissa Bateman is a beautiful, well-educated woman with a rocketing career, an active social conscience, political aspirations, a vast circle of accomplished friends, and a great appetite for all of life’s pleasures. What she wants now is a partner worthy of her desires—someone who is her intellectual equal, who cares about the things she cares about, who is fun and sexy, who respects and appreciates her, and who wants to make the world a better place. Clarissa doesn’t know who this man might be, but she’s sure she’s going to enjoy the process of finding out.

In this erotic romance set in the 1970s, a brilliant and beautiful political operative working in Seattle looks for someone to be her partner in love and life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483439358

Book preview

them.

CHAPTER 1

ALEX

WHEN CLARISSA BATEMAN WALKED IN the restaurant, every set of male eyes was on her. Trying not to notice, she looked around to see if her friend Alex was there. Not seeing him, she made her way as unobtrusively as possible to the barstool and pulled her delicate frame into the seat. She was wearing a yellow knit sundress with no bra. In her nervousness, her nipples were firm and erect against the flimsy fabric. She flipped her blonde pageboy over her shoulders and narrowed her green eyes to scan the room for her friend. Alex was a reporter for the local newspaper. A handsome, dapper Hispanic man, he too would be highly visible in this crowd of Nordic Seattle bankers, lawyers, and casually scruffy artists who frequented this trendy after-work watering hole.

Hating to drink alone, she nevertheless ordered a glass of chardonnay and waited, trying to appear confident. A few sips of the chilled wine relaxed her, and she started to enjoy the glances in her direction. A gorgeous, tall, blond man, John, whom she knew slightly from her prior work as a legislative staffer, came over and gave her a big smile, offering to buy her another drink. She declined graciously and explained she was waiting for a friend. The moment she mentioned Alex’s name, John retreated with a quick hug and joined his colleagues across the room. She chuckled inwardly at the power the press still wielded in a town as laid-back as Seattle.

Clarissa liked Alex. He covered the city beat and knew everyone who was anyone in town. She had met him when they both worked at the state capitol, and they had maintained a warm friendship. She knew he would like it to be more than that. But she had already been in several work-related romantic—or rather, sexual—entanglements and was not about to get into another one with someone who worked in a town as small and insular as a state capital.

Just then, Alex strode across the room, ignoring the glad-handers who tried to block his passage, grabbed her by the shoulders, and gave her a warm and not entirely platonic kiss.

Hey you, she said. Let’s not screw up the buddy thing by getting all mushy!

But she hugged him back and invited him to sit on the stool she had jealously guarded with her chic Louis Vuitton bag.

He grinned, looking devilish, and got the bartender’s eye to order a gin and tonic.

Are you ready for another? Sorry I kept you waiting—breaking story and all that!

She said was not ready for another drink but asked if he would have time to stay in town for an early dinner, as she was starving.

Of course … I’m yours tonight for as long as you’ll have me, he said flirtatiously.

She wondered what he might be like in bed. He was good-looking, accomplished, and kind, and he obviously adored her—normally just her type. But she really cherished the friendship and was worried that a night in the hay might screw that up. Still, she did not rule it out entirely.

She asked him about the news story that had caused his delay, and he launched into an animated description, telling her what he knew from his briefings with the police and the FBI. His enthusiasm for his work and the seriousness with which he pursued every story made him even more attractive. She loved people who felt a passion about what they did. Her resolve to keep things on a platonic level started to dissipate.

During dinner, she questioned him further about his work, and he responded attentively and then moved on to query her about hers.

Over coffee, Alex moved next to her in the booth and said, You look absolutely ravishing tonight. Every man in this place is green with envy that I’m the one having dinner with you. Can I come over to your place for a nightcap?

Other than the hug and kiss when he’d arrived, he had not touched her all evening. Now she knew she wanted him to kiss and touch her everywhere.

She had mixed feelings about her overt sexiness. On one hand, she carefully cultivated it—the glossy hair, the tasteful but revealing clothes, the lightly tanned legs in strappy sandals. She knew how to work it. But she also resented it. She disdained how easy men were to attract but how difficult it was to get most men to take a woman seriously, particularly if the woman was young and beautiful.

She was frustrated by their lack of response to her accomplishments, her political passions, her intelligence, and her hard work. She was not yet thirty, and she had already written and lobbied through the legislative process two groundbreaking laws, had worked as the speechwriter for the Speaker of the House, had been the first woman in a professional position in a large national association, and now owned her own quite successful but still growing management-consulting firm. Yet, still, she felt insecure. She was never quite sure if she was being taken seriously in her work. Clarissa desperately wanted that, but she also wanted be viewed as desirable and beautiful.

At work, she went out of her way to tone it down. She wore her glasses most of the time—heavy, horn-rimmed, squared-off, schoolmarmish glasses. She pulled her hair back in a neat, low ponytail or bun. Her wardrobe staples were tailored suits with demure silk blouses, neutral nylons, and sensible shoes. She never wore any dangling earrings or noisy bracelets. Instead, she graced her ears with simple pearls and wore other pieces of tasteful jewelry. She prided herself on always looking the part of a focused career woman, despite her youth and attractiveness.

It was that tug, that yin and yang—a hallmark of this era, she mused—where most women were well educated, as was she, and expected to have successful careers but also wanted to be viewed as sexy, fun, mate material. It was a challenge that would haunt her throughout the decade and beyond.

But tonight, she was letting herself give off a consciously sexy vibe, and Alex was definitely responding to that. By the time she had lit some candles and poured two snifters of Courvoisier, he had kicked off his loafers and loosened his tie and was making himself quite comfortable on her living room sofa. She sat down next to him, and he pulled her close.

You smell so good, and I’m not talking about that great drink in your hand, he murmured, stroking her silky hair.

She asked if he wanted her to play some jazz, which she knew he loved from attending several concerts with him over the past year.

No, he responded. Just stay right here with me and let me kiss you.

She snuggled back into his lap but said in a low voice, Won’t this foul up our nice friendship? I like you so much, and I want us to always feel completely comfortable with each other.

I think I’ll be completely comfortable if you kiss me, he replied, putting his lips on hers gently at first and then with more pressure as he stroked her hair, her back, and her hips and down her smooth legs He sighed when he touched her full breasts with their firm nipples. She sighed too and let her tongue explore the inside of his upper lip. She stretched out against him, pressing her entire body up against his. She felt his erection press hard against her belly. She softly moaned again. Within a few seconds, she felt him pull her lace bikini panties down. He tossed them across the room. In one smooth gesture, he pulled the halter dress up over her head, and she was lying on him completely naked and feeling deliciously exposed and definitely turned on.

For several moments, he continued to kiss and stroke her, murmuring appreciatively. She tried to unbutton his shirt, but he grabbed her fingers and moved them away, all the while kissing them. Damn. Why was he being coy now that it was clear she wanted him—and all of him—right now?

Please … was all she said and moved to unbuckle his belt.

Again, he gently moved her fingers away.

Let me just look at you, he said.

So reluctantly, she got up and stood above him, cupping her breasts in her hands as if to offer them to him. Then she put one leg up on the side of the sofa, and while he watched, she spread her legs slightly so that he could see her nudge her swollen clitoris into full view. He finally began to unbutton his shirt, and when she leaned forward to help, he grabbed one breast and pulled the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while he cupped the other in his free hand. She noticed with dismay how many clothes he had on—after the shirt, an undershirt and then socks and slacks and finally, his boxers—all of which he slowly removed while stopping every few moments to lick or suck virtually every inch of the front of her body.

It was clear he wanted to control how this was going. She decided that all she had to do was just enjoy it. Very slowly, he turned her around. Standing naked next to her, he began to lick and suck her neck, back, and legs, and then he moved up to her buttocks. Very gently, he moved her legs apart just enough to run his tongue up the crack in her bottom. My God, she thought—no one had ever done that before. It felt very different and very good.

Oh … she moaned.

Do you like that? he asked.

Yes, Clarissa responded in a tiny voice, which was all she could muster. So he did it again, and her knees gave way. Gasping, she was on the floor in front of him, and before he could do anything, she had his member in her mouth, sliding her tongue up and down, cupping his balls in her hand as she ran a finger under them, softly pressing as she pulled the length of him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

No, he said softly, grasping his cock with one hand and pulling it out, I want to feel all of you. And this time, he was the one who said please.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into her bedroom, startling her grumpy Maine Coon cat, Max, who hissed and jumped off the bed. Alex pushed the covers back and possessively pulled her in next to him. Suddenly, she had a moment of lucidity—protection! She just said, Wait, and disappeared into the bathroom, praying that she could insert her diaphragm quickly and not ruin the mood.

As she came back into the darkened bedroom lit only by the glow of the candles, she noticed that he had pulled the covers loosely up over himself and that there was a nice tentlike structure in the bed, indicating that he was still very turned on and waiting for her. She kissed him and tried to pull herself on top him, but he rolled toward her and said authoritatively, Spread your legs.

In one deft move, he was inside her, filling her up with his warmth. She surprised herself by wanting him so much and came almost immediately. He hugged her and slowed his stroke so that she could fully enjoy the aftershocks. Then he began to thrust again—slowly at first and then more deeply and more quickly. She could hear his breathing become more rapid and then, just as she felt herself start to climax again, he exploded and literally yelled her name loudly enough that she wondered if they had woken her neighbors.

They fell into a deep sleep. Sometime just before dawn, she woke to find him curled up next to her on one side and her cat on the other. It felt like a very lovely sandwich—cozy and warm. But she needed to pee and was also leaking all of his cum, as she had not gotten up to wash last night. She gingerly moved the comforter to slide out, trying not to disturb man nor cat.

Thank goodness all of her candles were displayed in glass cylinders, so she had not burned down her apartment during the night, but now she did blow them out, and then she tiptoed back into the bedroom to watch him sleep. When she awakened an hour or so later, he was gone. No note, no sign of all the passion of last night—nothing. She felt both relieved and let down. She was glad to have the place back to herself, but she also wanted to talk with him and—she giggled to herself—maybe have him again.

Clarissa did not hear from Alex again. They ran into each other at an event a few weeks later and both acted mildly embarrassed. It appeared that she had screwed up the friendship by sleeping with him. She felt real regret, but in terms of attraction, she had already moved on.

CHAPTER 2

JAMES

JAMES HAD ENTERED HER LIFE. He was a walking, talking danger zone: a married, conservative Republican senator who bore a striking resemblance to Humphrey Bogart—gravelly voice and all. He called and asked her to dinner, saying he needed her advice about an education bill coming up before the legislature. She had met him several years before when she was lobbying on behalf of public schoolteachers. She was immediately attracted to him then but had just as immediately decided that he was totally off limits—not only was he still married but reportedly separated, he was someone with whom she had to work. However, she had no direct issues in front of the committees he chaired, so it seemed like less of a conflict, but the married part and his conservative politics still ruled him out as potential date material.

He asked her to meet him at an expensive, discreet restaurant not far from the capital. They might run into folks who knew him, but the booths were heavily draped and the place was pretty dark—besides, she told herself, this was strictly business. He wanted her advice, and she wanted to quiz him about the leadership’s priorities for the upcoming legislative session.

She wore a pretty, turquoise wrap dress that emphasized her tiny waist and generous chest. She put on black-patent heels with a matching bag. Button gold earrings and her Movado watch were her only accessories. She glanced in the mirror and admitted to herself she looked good in a subtle, not overly sexy way.

The senator was waiting for her by the door and grabbed her arm when she arrived. He guided her past the maître d’ to a table he had already selected near the back, where it was even darker, lit only by candles and one dim chandelier. He ordered scotch on the rocks for both of them, explaining that they would switch to wine at dinner.

They spoke easily and at length about work-related matters. He really did want to know what she thought of a proposal to require an additional year of training for teachers as part of the certification process. He was offering the teachers’ association a reduction in class size if they went along with his approach. She gave him her candid opinion.

It will be an uphill battle with the union folks, she explained. They always make the political mistake of immediately rejecting anything that requires more of teachers, which is a shame, because it would give them more credibility with the public. They could then use that to ultimately leverage a request for higher wages. But in your favor, they always are militating for smaller class sizes, which have been documented in some studies to improve student performance, so …

She paused and concluded by saying he probably had a protracted fight on his hands. He was listening attentively and asked her a series of questions about whom he should speak with first and how he should approach the union leaders.

They ordered dinner and continued their business-focused conversation. She was able to find out the legislative-session priorities of his caucus. He also spoke of several initiatives he personally planned to pursue to further cement his role as Senate leader.

As the waiter cleared their plates, James turned to her, touched her arm, and said, So tell me about you, in that low, distinctive voice.

It came across as both a bit fatherly and a bit suggestive at the same time. She explained that she was planning a trip to Maui with a girlfriend in late March and that she was enjoying her new little house on the bay, working the garden to relax and writing a bit of poetry. His eyes lit up at that. Oh, it would be great if you would let me read it—or better yet, read it to me.

She was shocked that he had any interest at all in this sort of thing and that he was interested in her on such a personal level. She responded by mumbling something to the effect that it really wasn’t very good and certainly not ready for prime time.

He could tell he had made her uncomfortable and backed off, saying, I’ll wait until you are ready to share it, but I, too, have tried my hand at poetry when I was younger, so I will be an empathetic audience.

She had no idea how old he was. She knew for sure that he was quite bit older than she, but he was so fit and trim with a head full of thick, brown hair, it was hard to tell. She guessed he could be anywhere from late-forties to late-fifties, and she didn’t care. In that moment, with the scotch and the wine and the great food and the stimulating conversation, she found him incredibly attractive and very sexy. He picked up on her relaxed vibe.

When the waiter left after delivering the coffee and Grand Marnier, James put his arm across her back, pulled her close, and said, I have always wanted to do this, since the first time I saw you in the marble halls.

Then he kissed her deeply on the lips, putting his tongue inside her mouth in such a suggestive way that she almost gasped. Instead, she let herself melt into his arms and kissed him back, giving him some tongue treatment herself.

He offered that it was time to get out of there and took her back to his hotel, where he explained that he always stayed in a wing with Jacuzzi suites during the legislative sessions. This particular hotel, The Olympia Grand, was notorious for being the site of numerous trysts and also wild parties when the legislature was in town. Once, when the place caught on fire, many reputations were either enhanced or shattered as guests fled in nightwear—or from the Jacuzzi suites, in just a towel.

James ordered another round of drinks from room service and took off his tie and suede sport coat. He unbuttoned his shirt just enough that she could see his perpetually tanned chest and luxuriant chest hair and suggested that perhaps she wanted to make herself more comfortable with one of the robes in the bathroom, explaining, So you can enjoy the Jacuzzi room with me.

Whew … this was moving fast. She did not know what she wanted to do; on the one hand, she was wildly attracted to him, but on the other hand, he was supposed to be off-limits. He was still married, as far as she knew; he was in leadership, someone with whom she had worked in the past and with whom she would probably have to work in the future. He sensed her hesitation and moved close, pulling the sash of her wrap dress to untie it and kissing her face, her neck, her hair, and then her lips.

She felt his erection throbbing against her thigh and he said, Come on, baby, you know we can have some fun and just relax together. No worries. I want you so much.

She nodded and slipped into the marble bathroom lit with crystal sconces. A pair of waffle-weave white robes hung on hooks outside the glass shower. She undressed and inserted her diaphragm, hoping the jelly protected her in the water. Then she grabbed the other robe and headed into the bedroom.

I brought you this, she said, for the Jacuzzi room.

He turned and looked at her suggestively. He was stark-naked and had the largest penis she had ever seen in her life, which was standing straight up. Her eyes must have widened, because he laughed and pulled her toward him.

"I told you it would