[Chapter 80: Hillary Arrives]
Hillary had actually come to Los Angeles. In fact, she had been here for several days already. It was only that morning she informed Madonna. So by evening, Orlando hadn't left Madonna's mansion in Beverly Hills yet.
Madonna's Beverly Hills mansion was now hosting the wife of the Arkansas governor.
Putting aside Hillary's later image as an old political witch in the alternate timeline, at this moment she was the quintessential American politician's wife: a social butterfly who loved to have fun and was skillful at networking. Who would've thought such a woman almost clinched the top spot in the country?
She was different from her husband's deputy. Though the deputy also harbored ambitions for the top, he was nowhere near Hillary when it came to real political clout. Hillary's voter support among everyday citizens actually surpassed her competitors. In the end though, she narrowly lost, only by a single electoral vote -- consistent with the winner-takes-all rules in the elections.
"Wow, even though it's my first time here, Ms. Ciccone, your house is absolutely stunning!"
"Haha, ma'am, thank you! If you ever come to Los Angeles again, you're always welcome to stay here!"
"Oh, I'm so happy to hear you say that!"
"I really mean it, sincerely!"
After a bit of diplomatic exchange with Madonna -- always poised and gentle but undeniably feminine -- Hillary, dressed as the governor's wife, stood in the courtyard of Madonna's Beverly Hills estate. She looked at Orlando standing beside her with a soft smile.
Then, without hesitation, she opened her arms and gave Orlando a warm hug.
"Good afternoon, dear Orlando."
"Good afternoon, ma'am."
Orlando had already figured out why she had come to Los Angeles. Above all, she had official duties here, centered on child protection. She was visiting the National Child Protection Association, concerned about protecting children in the event of another possible war.
Of course, the topic was broad. In reality, she was here to secure donations on behalf of the National Child Protection Association and the cause of protecting children. How much of the money would actually be spent on children in future war zones -- or even on American children -- was uncertain, even to Hillary herself.
Besides this, she was also here to help her husband campaign. The midterm elections were coming up, and she'd been busy on the East Coast for the past three months. While the essence of America lay mostly on the East Coast, with rapid tech development accelerating, California and Seattle on the West Coast were booming. It was clear no political hopeful could afford to neglect this Sunshine State.
Alongside these official and political obligations, there was a bit of a personal reason for her being in California -- Orlando. Although she'd only known Orlando for about half a month and had made just four or five phone calls before they became friendly, that day she found herself deeply curious about him.
That simple contact made her feel an electric numbness all over -- an actual physical sensation.
She previously had taken drugs, smoked weed, and drank alcohol, but it was a sensation unlike any she'd ever felt at the wildest parties.
Privately, Hillary consulted her personal doctor and nurse about this. Her personal doctor, a Harvard Medical School graduate, explained it using a medical term coined in 1902 that had lately gained popularity: hormones.
Hillary's doctor suggested this might be a natural hormonal attraction -- a physiological and physical pull between two human bodies. One person's natural hormones might cause a strong attraction to another. If this happened, the affected person might find the other pleasing no matter how they looked at them, and even a simple touch could send an electric tingling shock through their brain.
When Hillary heard this, her eyes widened in disbelief. She was very practical, after all. But her doctor wasn't just any doctor -- he was also the part-time personal physician for the Clinton family and a renowned cutting-edge medical researcher in the U.S., specializing in the effects of hormones on human physiology.
If any other doctor offered this explanation, she would have about 60% confidence. For Hillary, the doctor's assessment held at least 90% credibility.
She had come to Los Angeles specifically to stay with Madonna and test whether this sensation was just a figment of her imagination. The answer was clear -- it wasn't.
While hugging and shaking hands with Orlando, Mrs. Clinton felt the electric tingling again: a mix of comfort, discomfort, pain, irritation -- a sensation hard to define.
Compared to the brief one- or two-second hug she'd had with Madonna just earlier, the embrace with Orlando had lasted more than ten seconds, and neither was in a hurry to let go.
Except for the first few words, they said nothing. Hillary was experiencing the numbness churn in her heart, while Orlando adjusted his electrical discharge via his telepathic ability.
Both held each other with absolute seriousness, their embrace lasting so long that Madonna raised her elegant brows, while the surrounding bodyguards and assistants stared in surprise, some gaping, others frowning.
It was Orlando who realized something was off.
He whispered in her ear, "Ma'am, what perfume are you wearing today? It smells incredible."
Then he reluctantly released the "future American political witch" addicted to electricity.
"Ah? Perfume? Oh... oh oh oh..."
With the physical contact ending, the electric shock sensation disappeared, and reason flooded Hillary's mind, bringing her back to awareness. She finally realized her surroundings.
Acting fast, she said, "I think I might be a bit tired -- I felt dizzy just now. Thank you, dear Orlando, for lending me your shoulder so long."
Orlando blinked, then smiled warmly. "You're welcome. If you ever need it, ma'am, you're always welcome to use it!"
He spoke seriously, with no hint of ambiguity. Everyone around sounded normal, but she felt guilty -- having just felt that tingling electric shock again.
Then, everyone politely entered Madonna's Beverly Hills mansion together.
---
"What a beautiful house!" Hillary exclaimed, "You can see the Los Angeles skyline outside, which I thought was spectacular enough. But I never expected the interior to be this stunning!"
Madonna's Beverly Hills mansion was a classic Florentine Italian architectural style, modeled after the Renaissance period. The iconic dome of Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral in Florence inspired much of this style -- a blend of Gothic and classical Roman elements. High domes, symmetrical proportions, and geometric order create a timeless elegance and beauty.
This style was popular worldwide, especially nowadays. At least one-third of new luxury homes by the wealthy adopted this style; in Beverly Hills, nearly half did.
In front of other entertainment professionals and media reporters, Madonna appeared as a proud woman, unafraid to show off. But with bigwigs like Hillary, this pop queen showed high emotional intelligence and humility.
"Oh, I'm so glad you like it, ma'am! Look here, this..."
While remaining modest, Madonna led Hillary to explore the mansion's many amenities and decorations.
Upon hearing Madonna always kept a personal SPA therapist on staff, Hillary, still dizzy from her electric shock, said, "I'd love to relax in the pool and try out the pop queen's special personal mixologist's skills."
Of course, Madonna couldn't say no.
---
Half an hour later, while Hillary enjoyed her treatment, Madonna slipped out of the spa room under the pretense of preparing dinner.
"That lady is completely naked right now," Madonna whispered upon seeing her young lover.
"I didn't expect she's eleven years older than me and has a kid, yet still has such a figure and flawless skin!"
Madonna winked at Orlando. "How about it, honey, you go in and make a move? I bet she wouldn't mind -- she'd be thrilled!"
Orlando was taken aback but quickly responded, trying to keep his intentions clear.
Hillary hadn't hidden her feelings well.
"Don't talk nonsense! Mrs. Clinton is married! Look at her last name, Clinton!"
"Tsk, what's to be afraid of? Look at her hugging you for so long just now, sneaking glances at you while talking to me! Tsk, tsk, darling, I'd bet my bottom dollar she'd be thrilled if you went in there right now!"
Orlando wanted to speak frankly but reconsidered.
He shook his head, "Madonna, do you really think you're funny?"
Usually so feminine yet rarely this playful, Madonna pouted.
She knew when Orlando addressed her by her real name, he became serious and earnest. Usually, this was the moment Madonna turned serious.
"Okay, okay, just think of it as a joke."
"You're kidding me."
"Fine, fine, you have the final say!"
"I'm a little hungry. Let's have someone prepare dinner."
"Okay, okay, I'll have it ready right away."
As they headed toward the kitchen, Madonna suddenly paused, reflecting on how she'd treated Orlando earlier. It seemed a little too flirtatious, and she felt a twinge of nervousness.
"Damn... damn! Fuck!" she thought to herself, frowning deeply.
Was she really falling in love with him?
*****
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