The Honorable Congressman Wight shifted in his seat, the swiveling wingback's leather squeaking under him. The noise wasn't quite loud enough to be caught on the hot mic, but it was just enough to get the attention of the colleague on his left.

The Representative from California gave him a subtle hand wave indicating her request for patience as she continued with a seemingly endless question, which made Wight even more irritable.

The nerve of the woman. She might have been the Committee's ranking member, but he had demanded that they bring this topic up for evaluation, lobbying in the House on both sides of the political aisle day and night for weeks. And now she was undermining his work with what sounded like praise to the witness instead of legitimate inquiry.

". . . with some of the most respected artists and historians of our time. Is that right?" Wight only caught the last part of Congresswoman DeLuca's question as his eyes focused on the curator representing the Museum of Ethnography.

"That is correct, Madam Chairman," Venus Coleman said, leaning into the microphone on the table in front of her. "Benjamin Duc Tran has won numerous Gallantry Awards for his photography and he just headlined the Venice Biennale, while Professor Andrew Pace was not only a Rhodes Fellow, but is also a permanent member of the Cambridge Society thanks to his work regarding Nineteenth Century brothel culture."

The hearing room was packed, and there was a soft murmur from the audience composed of journalists, collections management specialists, and conservative coalitions. The latter likely objected to the salacious topic, although the members of the DC media could have also found it amusing.

"So would you say that this KINK exhibit scheduled to open next month just a few blocks from here down on the National Mall is as much an educational, as a culturally significant experience?" asked DeLuca.

Wight had to consciously stop himself from rolling his eyes at the leading nature of the question, but House decorum prohibited him from calling his colleague out. No matter. He'd have his chance to defeat her leftist agenda soon enough.

Venus Coleman leaned forward again. "Yes, I would."

"Thank you, Dr. Coleman. Again, we appreciate your time today to answer what may feel like unnecessary questioning into your work, but you must understand that we, as representatives of the voting citizens of this great country, must provide oversight into how federal funding is used," said DeLuca, no doubt as a jab at her more right-leaning colleagues, but Wight wasn't fazed.

When the Chairwoman heeded him the floor, he was ready to jump in.

"Dr. Coleman, once again, good morning to you," he began with his most syrupy Southern drawl. "We all know why we're here today, and I won't waste your time, so I'll get to the point and it's one that the Honorable Representative from California just ended on. And that is the issue of public funding."

He paused to let the media in the pews jot their notes and the photographers crouched in front of the witness table to snap their pictures.

"As we're all aware, we're in the middle of a recession. Inflation is skyrocketing. People are barely making ends meet. And yet," he said, drawing in a deep breath that allowed him another chance at a dramatic pause. "You sit there today with a straight face trying to convince us that nearly $2 million for a perverted display of sexual fetishes that only a select number of visitors to your museum during a brief six-week window would ever get to see is an appropriate way to spend tax dollars."

Venus Coleman was unflinching. "Sir, do you have a question in that statement for me?"

Wight's right eye twitched and he gripped his pen so hard, the cheap plastic cracked under the pressure. This woman was trying to make a fool of him and he had to shut down her insolence.

"Of course I have a question, madam, if you would be so kind as to let me finish," he said before clearing his throat. "As I was saying, there are clearly competing priorities in our budget right now and I'd like for you to go on the record here today and tell this Congressional Committee why you believe that a lewd display of pornographic materials is more important than feeding our nation's hungry children."

The woman snickered. Snickered!

"Congressman Wight, as I have clearly stated in my answers to prior questioning today, the exhibit that I have curated for the Museum of Ethnography is in no way pornography, but rather a thoughtful and thought-provoking presentation of historical, global and intersectional viewpoints about sex," she said. "And while I am in no way implying that public assistance to America's poor shouldn't be a priority, arguably even Maslow's hierarchy of needs–if you are familiar with it–places sex on the very first tier of his pyramid, making it just as important to people as is food."

"Yes, of course I'm quite familiar with Maslow. Anyone with a basic understanding of psychology would be, but I'm glad you phrased that opinion the way you did, Dr. Coleman, because I agree with you that it is quite arguable. In fact, I will go as far as to openly state for the record that your assertion is the exact opposite of your intended meaning. Because food is an everyday necessity to sustain life, while sex is an occasional–and most importantly, private–act that is required simply for procreation."

"Sir, with all due respect, then how would you explain the existence of 30,000 year-old sex toys–specifically polished phalluses–found in Stone Age caves?"

He held back a smile at the perfect sound-bite. She was playing right into his hand in appealing to his base and she didn't even know it. "That, madam, is just proof that sexual deviants have existed since the dawn of mankind. That doesn't make it right, however."

"So then every great civilization since the Egyptians and the Greeks just happened to have the occasional kink freak, as opposed to erotic pleasure being a healthy part of society?" Venus Coleman asked, becoming visibly flustered for the first time during the hearing.

Wight nodded. He had her just where he wanted her. "That is correct, and it is especially true after the advent of Christianity because any devout Christian would certainly espouse the filth that your museum is peddling."

The Congressman leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Let her try to argue her way out of this.

"The theme of our exhibit fits quite well into Biblical doctrine," the curator said, surprising Wight with her defiance. "You're familiar with the phrase 'love thy neighbor' are you not? Well, did you know that 60% of men who purchase a vibrator do so in order to help satisfy their sexual partners while only 13% of them do it for themselves?"

He sucked in a harsh breath and leaned forward, slapping his palms on the desk from the force. "I'd like to ask you to kindly refrain from that kind of blasphemy, Ms.--"

"Doctor."

Wight's heart rate raced. "Dr. Coleman," he said, sharply enunciating each syllable. "And you'd do well not to resort to hysteria."

Coleman smiled. "Do you know what the word hysteria as it relates to a woman's perceived state of anxiety was used to cover up, Congressman? Horniness."

"Enough!" Wight yelled, blood rushing to his face in a flood of warmth. "This lewd conversation has gone far enough, but it has been exactly what I had expected when inviting you here today," he said as the Chairwoman banged her gavel to restore order.

"I'd like to ask the Honorable Congressman from Virginia to remember that we have a code of conduct in this chamber and it will serve him well to follow it," DeLuca said. "And on that note, I would also like to call for a short recess. We'll reconvene in thirty minutes at which time I think we should be ready to take a vote on the fate of the exhibit's funding. Thank you, Dr. Coleman for your time. You are hereby dismissed."

" . . . efforts from last night's tornadoes in eastern Mississippi are expected to be hampered by unprecedented flooding, and the governor has been urged by the Democratic minority in the state to seek FEMA assistance."

Lost in his work, Ben only heard the last part of the news report, but he looked up at the television just in time to see a final clip of debris scattered among what used to be a residential neighborhood.

"My god," he whispered to himself before returning his attention to his computer, the black-and-white footage on that screen paused mid-action.

His distraction wasn't a surprise; he was less focused than usual.

The deadline to finish his centerpiece for the upcoming museum exhibit was just weeks away and yet he couldn't decide on how to proceed. He'd never been lacking for inspiration before, but Ben's thoughts were all over the place lately. One day, he was sure that highlighting his furry photoshoot was the way to go. The next day, he reconsidered that decision in exchange for using his anonymous body parts pictorial.

And now, here he was going back to the voyeuristic video he'd secretly filmed of his Grindr hook-up.

Pressing play on the recording, Ben watched as his partner got on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed, the pinhole camera he'd hidden in a vase of dried flowers picking up the footage from the perfect angle.

"And in other news, Congressman Chad Wight of the Commonwealth of Virginia led a heated House hearing earlier today questioning the validity of using federal funding for, what he described, as a quote 'lewd display of immoral filth.'"

Ben looked up again, this time without pausing the video. The anchorwoman's intro segment was just shifting to an image taken inside the Capitol where an African American woman in a stylish designer pant-suit was giving testimony in front of a panel of lawmakers.

"The three-hours of rigorous and often provocative questioning about whether the upcoming exhibit at the Museum of Ethnography titled Kink: Attitudes about Sex, Then and Now could proceed as scheduled was expected to be easily decided by day's end, but an emergency abstention from voting by a member of the Republican majority in the Appropriations Committee resulted in a tie. Therefore, the ranking member has called for a second vote, which is scheduled for early next week."

As he watched the snippets from the hearing under the summary report, Ben's eyes kept darting between his television and his computer screen. But no matter how much he blinked or tried to tell himself that he was wrong, deep down he knew that he wasn't. Because the man sitting at the elbow of the ranking member, behind the nameplate that read "Hon. Mr. Wight" was none other than the man in his black and white recording who had so eagerly gone down on him.

"No fucking way!" Ben whisper-exclaimed as a rush of adrenaline poured through his veins.

This was huge. No, it was bigger than huge. The politician who was the most vocal about threatening the exhibit that Ben was headlining turning out to be the same slutty-ass closet case that he'd secretly fucked? And he had video proof of the whole thing?

This was cosmic karma.

Taking a few choice screen grabs from his unedited video, Ben saved the results in a newly created folder on his desktop and also on a private DropBox link. After opening up Grindr on his phone, he then went into his old DMs with Ready2Mingle. The last one he'd gotten was the confirmation of their 'date.'

Ben took screenshots of their conversations and moved those into DropBox, too, silently thanking the lawmaker's of the District of Columbia for making it a one-party consent district. If their little tryst had happened across state lines in Maryland, for example, Ben would have had to have Wight's explicit agreement to record him. Since they had been within the boundaries of DC, that wasn't the case, and it now made his next call to an old friend at the Washington Post completely legal.

"You've had quite an eventful day, have you not?"

Venus downed another oyster on a half-shell, the chilled, raw bivalve slipping down her throat with ease as across the table, Kristo Hinrikus waited for his answer.

"I would imagine that your life is probably full of things that are even more exciting, but yes, I would call being in front of a Congressional panel a pretty big deal for me," she said, dabbing a cloth napkin against her lips. "I'm guessing that you had a chance to watch?"

The handsome Estonian smiled. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

This was a business dinner. A private networking event with an important museum donor. And yet, Kristo's directness gave Venus butterflies in her belly.

"And how did I do?" she asked, sincerely curious about his opinion, but already afraid that it would be unflattering.

He pondered for a beat, his strong eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"I was disappointed, actually," he finally said and her heart sank.

Venus had come out of the marathon questioning on a high, feeling like she'd provided the best answers to everything. Even what had clearly been intended as "gotcha" moments and planned sound bites.

"Really?" she asked, deflated enough to lose her appetite in spite of being in one of the city's best restaurants. Pushing the still half-full plate of oysters toward the center of the table, she couldn't help but press on, even though she knew she'd probably regret it. "Why would you say that? We almost came out on top? Or in the very least, we didn't immediately lose. We still have a chance at keeping the show financed if the re-vote goes in our favor next week."

Kristo nodded as he sipped his whiskey neat. Placing the crystal tumbler down, he licked the spirit droplets off his top lip with the tip of his tongue. Venus could feel herself getting wet from arousal.

"That is exactly my point," he said in a half-octave lower pitch than before, making him sound even sexier, if that was even possible. "Why would you be interested in me now that it looks like you won't need my support?"

Venus' face flushed. Here we go again.

"I'm not here because of your money," she said, much less offended by the insinuation than she had been the first time they'd met.

In the interim, she'd done a little research on the billionaire venture capitalist sitting across from her, and knowing that he was an international playboy who loathed being alone, she now better understood his motivations. To help make her point, she leaned forward and put her hand on his.

"But please understand that I am an ethical woman," she added, looking into his eyes. "While your assistance in financing the exhibit if we lose our grant would avert all kinds of disaster, there is absolutely no way I would compromise my personal and professional integrity to secure that gift."

Taking her hand, he kissed it gently. "And that is an honorable decision," he said with another smile. "One, which I suppose, is unavoidable while the possibility of my assistance is still needed. As in, we must remain just friends in order to avoid even the hint of impropriety as long as the exhibit could still be threatened?"

Ignoring the urge to pull him in and kiss him right then and there, Venus sighed. "I'm afraid we must," she said, knowing that her chances with the modern Viking were now all but gone.

ONC rolling word count: 15,748