All radio waves were breezing with the sound of N.'s voice, and her face was unmistakable as all available billboard ad space had been purchased by her communication agency.

N. the candidate had no more time or space allocation than the other candidates, but the trick had been to take advantage of the various campaigns she had been portrayed in during her modelling years, and the sponsors, perfumes, cosmetics, fashion firms, even the UN Renewable Energy Commission, had been all too happy to put their name in the forefront thanks to the first woman ever poised to win the French Presidential election.

N. was indeed doing very well in the pre-poll surveys and with the ballot due in three weeks time, was sure to be one of the first round finalists. Not that her opponents had restrained from searching for some dirt to unveil right in time; they had found nothing significant. N. was young, smart and self-assured. All the female electorate was supporting her, and so did men, too happy to release their collector magazines featuring N.  from the drawers they were kept for fear of jealous wives.

To the question: what can you say about your relationship with D.? N. would invariably answer the lines she now could enunciate without even giving it any thought: "I met Mr D. thanks to the UN campaign to promote wind power, and we had the opportunity to work together again to build up the alliance between his company and Mr Donough-Ferrero's. Mr D. is an awesome professional and this collaboration has been very rewarding for both of us. Of course, I do not share his belief that a man has to be single ..."
At which point D. would angrily turn the TV or radio set off. He had been honoured by membership of the France's 10 most eligible bachelors list, which to him sound as an insult, and was not accurate for that matter.

Indeed, what he was about to confess to N. that evening on the Amsterdam docks, just when she  had given him that friendly kiss, would silence the press and more importantly N. herself. But the whole business community, not to mention page 6 columnists worldwide, had bought his alibi so easily that debunking now the real motives of the "no sex no love" pledge would have a catastrophic impact on his professional credibility.
The only one to know was Natasha, his, PA, and money was by far the lesser of the two incentives for her discretion.

You have G. on line 2, Natasha whispered, interrupting the course of his thoughts. He had told her once not to use the real first name, but today she was really upset by the course of affairs in Belarus, and so was he, for the new windmills in construction there, so he could not blame her. There again, had it only been for the money. But much more was at stake in that land where striving for power had long replaced fighing for freedom. Whatever the cost.

"Hello darling, he said into the phone. How are the kids doing?"