Marcia Pemberton had never intended to be one of Washington, DC's most sought-after call girls. It was all because she - cornflower blue eyes, silken tresses, and runway-ready body - caught the eye of the Congressman representing her Iowa district. It was incidental contact - she wasn't even volunteering for the man, and hardly knew who he was let alone what he stood for - but knowing since the day she was born which side of her bread was buttered, she fluttered her eyelashes, winked, and the rest was history.
Of course no one except Hiram Figgins, hired hand at the Fowlkes family farm, knew of their tryst in the cow barn so quickly had Marsha been spirited out of Iowa and installed in a cute studio apartment in Adams Morgan, paid for with amenities by her elected representative. She loved Washington, its cafes, bars, restaurants, and power alleys. She drank at the watering holes of the rich and powerful, overheard conversations about interest rates, foreign affairs, and oil, and met not a few men 'of significance'.
Of course despite the temptation and the clear and present interest on the part of Washington men, she remained faithful to the Congressman who, after all, was paying her freight; but then, being an intelligent woman, she began to parse the ethical nature of the relationship. What did fidelity have to do with anything in the context of a commercial relationship, or rather a dutiful, if only informally adjudicated contract?
She was Congressman X's paid escort, so why not the escort of a Vice President of Amazon, Jeff Bezos' right hand man, executive of one his topflight corporations, and most importantly a man of considerable wealth with a laissez-faire attitude to spending?
What indeed? Cheating on a sexual patron was simply operating on market-based supply and demand. She was an unrestricted free agent. The Bezos man would set her up not in a cheap studio but in her own Georgetown townhouse priced in the high $3 millions.
But something in her Iowa Methodist upbringing halted her in mid-crossing. Cheating, duplicity, breach of contract - call it what you will - was not right. She owed the Congressman something more than an occasional cinq-a-sept.
However as her Congressman rose in prominence in the Democratic party and known as a man of consequential rectitude and good moral standing - he decided that she was a political encumbrance. Although his staff and confidants had sealed lips regarding his serial infidelities, Washington was known for its leaks; so Marcia was given a generous severance package and left on her own,
After which she engaged the young Bezos man, was set up in the manner to which she felt entitled, and met many of his elegantly tailored, worldly friends.
Now, despite Marcia's humble upbringing, she had a canny business sense; and operating within the strict, well-defined parameters of supply and demand, calculated her economic potential. While life in her Georgetown home all expenses paid might have been the be-all and end-all of any Iowa girl's existence, it wasn't hers. If the Congressman and the Bezos man were such easy marks, why should she limit her availability and opportunities?
And so it was that she branched out on her own, and found that life as a 'consultant' was far better than a G-15 in the bureaucracy or even a sinecure in the White House. Men were willing to pay for her services and pay well. She knew that her good fortunes would not last - age, wrinkles, and that horribly misogynist term 'a dry pussy' would soon catch up with her.
'What about benefits?', said the madame of one Washington's premier escort agencies. There, in the cold, out on your own, who's looking out for you? and so it was that she joined Ghislaine and Jeffrey, made tons of money, became well known on the Washington pleasure circuit, and found that her future was unlimited.
Politics? Why not? Why should a woman of intelligence, savvy, know-how, with good business sense, and a winning way remain an escort. She knew that Washington, a place of fungible morality, would soon ignore her past for her bright future.
Congressman X, far from angry at Marcia's departure was happy to see her make the best of her opportunities. As a solid, profoundly liberal man, he believed that all sexual inclinations were equal and worthy, especially and including…here, he chose his words carefully...'women of the night? Ladies of temporary pleasure? Dames of the dark streets?'.... No, sexual free thinkers like his protegee, and this being a free market economy, he wished her well.
He knew, however, that if she let a few months go by, return to Iowa and feed the pigs for a fortnight or two, then come back to Washington a reformed, serious Democrat, she would be acceptable and even more valuable to him. Her days as a woman of the night would be quickly forgotten or at least relegated to the archives. Marcia Pemberton, intern, liberal Democrat, progressive activist would be rebranded and reborn. As his intern he would have a known quantity, a faithful supporter and if willing, a delightful sexual companion.
Sexual companion was the last thing that Marcia wanted - reviving even a suggestion of her escort past - and so she politely demurred and concentrated on the work.
One thing became perfectly clear - hustling the progressive, woke agenda, was no different than hustling sex. It all boiled down to impulse, dick-ruling-mind economics, credulousness, and the suspension of disbelief. On the Congressman's behalf she hustled the Bernal Heights work boots and flannel crowd, Jewish Harvard feminists, and thousands of black wannabees from Gaithersburg. Before long she was the Congressman's go-to stand in when it came to town meetings and church groups.
She never asked for a formal appointment to the Congressman's staff, but he gave it to her. Any woman with such high-toned political instincts, such marvelously unattached and untethered moral commitment, such ambition, and such attractiveness had to be out front. And so it was that the Congressman won reelection by an overwhelming majority thanks it large part to her efforts.
When the Congressman had finally had enough of public service and accepted a nine-figure offer from the private sector, the field was Marcia's and Marcia's alone. She won and won again, proceeded from post to post. The historical record of her political fortunes is well known.
It just goes to show you - a tart from Ames is worth all the clueless men in Washington.
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