Exclusive Hillary Clinton What Happened Book Excerpt: Romance in the Heat of the 2016 Presidential Campaign
In a Steamy Book Excerpt Released Exclusively to The LBT, Clinton Writes about the Unlikely Intersection Between Two Worlds that Occured Outside the Glaring Eye of the Media and in a Place Where Love Seemed Impossible
Published September 12, 2017
The first moment I saw Tricia, I could tell she was no normal intern. Everything about her was different. First, she didn’t come from one of those fancy East Coast universities like all the other interns in the campaign. No, she was from a small, private women’s college in Montana where the girls learned how to rope a steer in the morning and then sauntered inside in the afternoon for their women’s studies classes. Also, she had a swagger about her that touched me in some way. Or maybe it was her hard-edged exterior mixed with a tenderness you could see in her wild green eyes. Or maybe the way her denim skirt hugged her shapely silhouette. Or maybe it was… everything. On that first meeting, she stood in the doorway to the VIP lounge with her hip jutted out as if to say, “Nobody messes with this chick.” Her breasts were full and buoyant in a way that seemed to stop time itself.
“Our eyes met, and after she held her gaze I could feel the warmth flowing to the area between my legs – a feeling so seldom now. – What Happened, by Hillary Clinton
Tricia was just the sort of energy the campaign needed, and our encounters became more frequent in those cold weeks of October. We had a few “accidental” bumps in our tight quarters. One time I playfully patted her on her firm, bulbous, heart-shaped backside after she did a fine job filling up some helium balloons. She giggled, which made me happy and aroused at the same time.
One day at headquarters about a month after she arrived she was leaning over a carton of campaign buttons that had just arrived in the mail. She sensed my approaching and leaned a bit further, begging me to covet her beneath her tightly-fitting Western embroidered jeans. Her abundant bosom hung like succulent fruit and her long, well-muscled legs visible under the table made her look like she could have ridden a wild steer all the way to Washington.
Our eyes met, and when she held her gaze I could feel the warmth flowing to the area between my legs – a feeling so seldom now. Tricia was wakening a side of me I had forgotten. It needed to come out.
“My smell began to fill the room like the hot rubber of a discarded tire in the Death Valley sun.” – What Happened, by Hillary Clinton
Suddenly, we were alone. Tricia approached closer, as if to ask if I needed something. She was, after all, only an intern even if her sexual energy burned brighter than a million glossy mailers. Tricia fixed her intense green eyes at me as she slowly lifted my mumu from my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor beside the paper shredder. She gasped for breath after taking in the many folds and crevices of my body. She ran her hands down the length of my arms, her fingers entwining with mine. I wondered if I had used my loofah on my arms where the dead skin shows, but nothing mattered now. There was only this moment.
Then she crossed our hands behind me as she kissed me long and deep, pressed so tightly against me, I almost couldn’t breathe. In a really good way. My smell began to fill the room like the hot rubber of a discarded tire in the Death Valley sun.
I felt her hands as they unclasped my bra, adding it to the pile at my feet. My breasts poured out like soup from a ladle and they came to rest on my lower abdomen. My scent of my bra wafted up like the odor of food left in garbage disposal during a long vacation.
She noticed me staring and she grinned. “What are you staring at?”
“You. You’re beautiful.” I ran my fingertips lightly across her chest and could feel her nipples harden beneath her wind worn shirt that looked like it had braved 1,000 rodeos.