Ann was waiting for me in her new black Benz SLR McClaren I gave her for Christmas. The new leather smell was still intoxicating and as I entered the car, I could she was wearing a J. Crew style angora sweater and a black mini. I wondered if she was wearing that red, white and blue thong I gave her on Valentine's day even if it wasn't color coordinated to the outfit.

"How did your meeting with George go?" she asks after a quick welcome back kiss.

"You know, normal. Satan only came up a few times."

Ann laughs a delicious laugh and throws the car into gear. The tires chirp away from the curb as her stilleto pump digs into the accellerator. She narrowily avoids some homeless bum crossing the street who hops to the curb and delivers an obscene gesture.

"Rich bitch!"

We both laugh and I get on my cell phone and order the Secret Service to pick him up as a potential terrorist.

"A week in lockdown will give him a few warm meals and a roof over his head"

Ann looks at me and smiles, "Your human compassion is what I love most about you. You are always looking out for the little guy."

"All in a days work. But back to the meeting. George has ordered the strike on Iran and several Euro-trash companies supporting Iran, I'll text message our stockbroker and tell him which European companies to dump stock from, as they will experience a drop real quick. How did lunch go with your publisher?"

"Normal. Another royalty check will be arriving in a month. With that one we can buy that little summer house in Martha's Vineyard we've been looking over."

"Darling you are such a talented writer and author, no amount of money can compensate for the joy and truth you bring to the masses."

I grab her hand and she grabs mine as if we shared the same thought simultaneously. A chill runs through me as we touch and I can't wait till we get to our Watergate apartment. She weaves the beautiful Benz through traffic with just one hand like Mario Andretti and the lesser cars part for her like the red sea did for Moses. The throaty purr of the German motor hardly drowns out the beating of our hearts.

"Did you tell off those whiny, leftist folks on the Habitablezone last night? I saw your laptop on the dresser and it was still logged on. I looked through some of the posts and laughed myself silly. I see why you enjoy it, they really believe that tripe they post! God, and that Lindy even guessed about our relationship. She must be psychic or something."

"Yeah, I got a kick out of that one too. I'll post a little story about us so as to, as that Brosz fellow put it, "jerk her chain" a bit more. She loathes you almost as much as she loathes me."

We arrive at the Watergate parking garage. Security waves her through without even checking the car.

"I think that new security guard has the hots for you."

Ann laughs.

"No he has the hots for the car. Everytime a several hundred thousand dollar car passes by his booth he starts to drool. Just another DC metrosexual."

Ann parks the car in one of our reserved spots. Then she climbs over the gear shift...

"You got your way and Iran is next. You are a genius and will save the world and America, before George's term is up. God I love you!.."

I start humming God Bless America and as I look around it seems strange that fireworks are permitted in the parking garage, even if they are red, white and blue...after seeing them in the elevator down this morning with Ann, I'm beginning to wonder why the sprinklers never come on in this building...

;-)