Episode IV: Family Values

There is something to be said about the moral high ground. So many people fly the banner of morals and family values to get ahead. Hunter Stevenson looked to join the laundry list of politicians who supported 'family values.' It's a great line, attracting many idealistic people and idolaters into the same fold. Hunter was a champion of the moral high ground with the looks of a model cut from an Esquire magazine. His sword and shield were his expensive fountain pens and Fendi attaché. His armor was a closet of tailored single and double breasted suits, silk ties, and shoes all with designer labels. His salt and pepper hair was perfectly quaffed and his jaw was square. He screamed confidence and power from his cherry Aston Martin all the way down to his cuff links. When Hunter Stevenson walked into a courtroom the jury was his.

The same thing applied to the women who worked in his office. Isn't is always the case that the people who openly praise the moral high ground are the one's burying their faces in moral depravity. Unknown to the oblivious misses and the huddled masses, Hunter Stevenson was a playboy. Hotels left suites open for him to discretely wine, dine and lay his various beautiful office assistants. The revolving door policy he had with the women he employed was the plan when Amelia Blake was working in his office as an intern; but what he intended to be a quicky ended up being a disaster.

Three weeks or so after he first started sleeping with her he started to feel this strange vibe after there clandestine rendezvous, as she liked to refer to them. It was as if he was being watched; watched in his office from afar, watched when he was with his kids at the park, watched as he left a hotel. He excused his vibes as paranoia; his first thought was to perhaps blame it on his competition trying to look for dirt to use against him later in the campaigns. Of course it never bothered him when he was having sex with Amelia. For some strange reason he had no cares in the world. Each time he would insert his room key into a door and find her naked body on a bed or couch waiting for him, the justice system was irrelevant. He would look up at her beautiful body twisted in awkward positions his wife would never be caught dead doing and all he would feel is inner peace. It was becoming clearer to him with every secret visit of theirs, every rise of her breasts when their breathing was in unison, every heartbeat as they made passionate love to each other; Hunter Stevenson, the lord and marshal of family values was falling in love with another woman, a younger and vivacious woman, a woman who wasn't his wife.

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