by J D Wade
I watched the replay of the debate moment on CNN with the closed caption function activated on my hotel room T.V. as I sat on the edge of my bed in my t-shirt and boxer briefs. Watching a celebration unfold amongst the staff of a political campaign is surreal, to the say the absolute least. My influencer job had exposed me to any manner of drinking and partying, but campaign staff are on a whole other level. After the debate, we all went back to the hotel in high spirits, and the staff that had been waiting at the hotel was prepared to congratulate Nathan on a job well done. When they found out that Margaret had been promoted to Campaign Manager, the celebratory mood increased ten-fold. I’m not sure where the champagne and other beverages came from, but it was almost magical how they were conjured up on the fly, as though they’d been stocked away for the perfect moment.
Instead of drinking with the staff, I had simply congratulated Nathan on a job well done, gave him a handshake and pat on the back, then excused myself and went to my room. Pizza was ordered by the celebrating staff, and I managed to snag a few slices as the delivery guy walked by my room. I knew if I didn’t grab a few slices, it would disappear quickly down the gullets of drunken campaign staffers. The night wore on, hoots, hollers, and celebratory cheers ringing through the hallway intermittently. It made me happy to know that Nathan’s crisis seemed to have disappeared over the course of the debate. To be sure, I watched the news, checking to see what the real story was—and it turned out that all of the major channels were reporting about how this “scandal” had clearly been an attempt by the other side—or even the Republicans as a whole—to discredit an exemplary candidate.
Marty Goldman’s name was mentioned often.
Theories about Governor Ledbetter’s involvement were mentioned.
Several prominent Republicans from the Senate and the Congress paraded themselves on T.V., making it clear that they had no hand in the non-scandal being leaked to the press.
Overwhelmingly, Governor Ledbetter was declared to have lost the debate spectacularly. Unfortunately for him, the moderator had brought up the “scandal” early in the debate—and Nathan had handled it perfectly. That had thrown him off his game for the rest of the night and emboldened Nathan. Things just got grimmer for Ledbetter as the debate wore on. That made me grin. I certainly didn’t know Nathan well, but I knew enough about Governor Ledbetter to know that he was not a good enough replacement for Donald Trump.
Nathan could really win this whole thing.
I smiled to myself as I sat there and continued watching news coverage, reading the closed captions as the scenes on the T.V. changed.
Nathan is kind of awesome.
He ruled that stage and put that fucker in his place.
He’s not bad to look at, either.
My face felt hot as I sat there, watching as Nathan’s original speech declaring his intention to run for president was replayed on MSNBC. Other parts of me were feeling something, too.
What the hell.
My hand found the lump in my boxers, and I began massaging my dick through the thin material as I watched the screen. My eyes went from Nathan’s eyes to his mouth, back to his eyes. Within moments, I was at full mast, and my dick was threatening to burst through the material of my underwear. Are you really going to whack off to your fucking boss’s speech on MSNBC? You’re goddamn right I am. My fingers were reaching for the fly in my underwear, my brain entirely focused on jerking off until I shot the biggest load of my life, when a loud rapping sounded at my door.
Goddamnit!
Quickly, I found a pair of jeans I had draped over the chair in the corner, struggling to pull them on. Anything to hold my boner down and minimize the bulge in my crotch so that I could answer the door. Another knock sounded, and I cursed under my breath as I jumped up and down, pulling on the jeans. It was difficult, stuffing myself in the jeans, and then having to lay my erection upwards along my lower belling, buttoning my jeans over it to hold it down. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at the thought of using my button and zipper to hide a boner so I could answer the door. However, as the third round of knocking sounded, I was unlocking the hotel door and releasing the security lock.
It wasn’t surprising, though maybe a bit embarrassing, to find Nathan Reed on the other side of the door, rosy-cheeked and smiling. My firm dick pulsed against my lower stomach as my eyes connected with his. He looked as though he’d had a few drinks and was in the best mood of his life. Or, at least, the best mood of his campaign. Good for him.
“It’s after midnight,” I said. “I’m off the clock.”
Nathan chuckled warmly.
I fucking love his chuckle.
Another twitch against my lower stomach.
“I know, I know,” He said, only slightly slurring. “I just wanted to come down and thank you again for, well, convincing me to do the right thing, Timothy.”
“You woke me up for that?”
I didn’t know what else to say.
Come in, and we’ll really celebrate?
Shut up, brain.
“Oh, shoot.” More slurring. “Were you asleep?”
“Nah.” I sighed. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”
Another chuckle.
God, I would love to give him a hard time.
“Well,” He seemed to be peeking around me into my room, “I didn’t want to go to bed tonight without saying ‘thank you’ once again.”
Did he want me to invite him in?
I’d love to invite you in, but, yeah. That’s a bad idea. We don’t need the Secret Service outside of my door all night. That would be a real scandal.
“You’re welcome.” I settled for a simple response.
“So,” He swayed slightly, “next phase?”
“Next phase?”
Why won’t my fucking boner go away?
“Social Media Advisor?” He smiled widely. “Breakfast with Nathan Reed? Dinner with Nathan Reed?”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Yeah. We can start in the morning—well, later today, if you want.”
“No, no, no.” He gestured emphatically. “Everyone deserves to sleep in. How about we talk things through once we’re both awake and bright-eyed—”
“I think I’ll manage that quicker.”
“—and then we can start tomorrow?” He laughed.
“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed. “Just, uh, give me a call when you’re ready later today.”
He gave me a drunken thumbs up. So, I returned it. Nathan started to walk away, I could see the agents out of the corner of my eye, waiting in the hallway for him. Jesus, do they follow you everywhere? Yes, dumbass. They can’t protect him if they’re not there.
“Hey,” Nathan stopped and turned back to me, “I really do appreciate you. I probably would have fucked myself over if you hadn’t come along to talk sense into me.”
“Language, Mr. Future President.”
He laughed. The agents laughed.
“I guess Marty Goldman got more than she bargained for with you?” He looked thoughtful.
Maybe he’s going to puke?
“Well, you can always pay me more if it makes you feel better.” I teased.
Laughter exploded from Nathan. I just smiled.
“I’ll call you later today.” He said, waving drunkenly as he turned towards his room.
“Okay,” I responded.
He waved over his head again as the agents followed him towards his suite. My dick was still pushing against the waistband of my jeans. I couldn’t get my jeans off and back to the T.V. quickly enough.
Chapter 13
Timothy
Breakfast with Nathan Reed
“What did you order for breakfast?” Nathan asked as he sat at the meeting table in his suite. “I’m kind of picky about breakfast.”
“I noticed the other day,” I said. “A bite out of a breakfast burrito and a bowl of fruit.”
“Starting the day with something
healthy is important.” He shrugged. “So, what did you order?”
“You’ll eat it whatever the fuck it is.” I teased.
“Pushy, pushy.”
I was seated on the other side of the long table facing him, setting up his assistants’ phones on tiny little tripods, trying to find the right angle to film him. No one wanted to see up his nose or in his ear or see too far into his mouth while he was talking. We certainly didn’t want to see shadows and bad angles while he answered questions and ate his breakfast. I would have preferred to go live on Instagram and Facebook from my phone since I was more familiar with it. Still, we had to use the phones with access to Nathan’s social media. At present, only his assistants and Campaign Manager had access. Maybe, if I had been scheduled to be with the campaign until the election, I would have been given access. Regardless, it just was what it was. We had to use the assistants’ phones.
The previous day, Nathan didn’t get out of bed until well after eight o’clock in the morning, and it hadn’t been until lunch that he had the time and energy to speak with me about our plans. Since the campaign was staying in the hotel for the rest of the evening and the next day before moving on to another state for a rally, we spent the entire day with our heads together. By the time we were both ready for bed again, we had a solid plan for how to do Breakfast with Nathan Reed and Dinner with Nathan Reed the following day. And every day thereafter until Super Tuesday. It was merely a week’s worth of them, but it would be good enough to get him out there with the voters. Once I was gone, his assistants could take over my duties. Or maybe he would finally hire an official Social Media Manager? It wasn’t my problem. Just because you whack it to one of your boss’s old speeches, it doesn’t mean you’re obligated to stick around forever.
Due to our plans, we both had to get up at five in the morning, get showered and dressed in nice outfits, and be ready to go live on his social media. I met Nathan at his suite, making sure to bring some treats for the agents at the door, and then I used his suite phone to call downstairs for room service. Now I was setting up the phones his assistants had brought to us while he waited for food and for me to tell him we were ready. Nathan was wearing dark jeans, casual, yet stylish shoes, a long-sleeve button-down, and a V-neck sweater over it. His hair had been styled and coiffed to within an inch of its life, and he was cleanly shaven. He looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Nothing tragic had happened in the news—as far as Nathan’s campaign went—since the debate, so we were ready for a nice morning chat with his voters. No surprises expected.
“I ordered you a veggie omelet and a fruit bowl. Lots of coffee.” I relented.
“Sounds perfect.”
“Don’t spill on yourself,” I warned him, adjusting one of the phones for a better angle. “And, if you do, make sure to have a sense of humor about it. Keep an even disposition, and don’t take yourself too seriously.”
“Right.”
“But you take being president seriously.”
“Obviously.”
I continued making sure angles on the phones were good so that when it was time to go live, we would be ready. Of course, I’d already figured out the angles, but I wasn’t sure what, if anything else, could be said between Nathan and I that wouldn’t be boring small talk. What does one say to their boss that isn’t too personal?
“You haven’t asked to film anything for Tuniverse,” Nathan said.
It was almost a question.
“No,” I responded, my eyes and fingers still on one of the phones.
“Why not?” He asked. “That would be a big deal for your channel—footage of you working as an advisor to a presidential candidate.”
I had no answer for that, so I kept pretending I was busy.
“I wouldn’t mind a few pictures and maybe a video or two of behind the scenes stuff.” Nathan continued. “I’m sure Margaret wouldn’t have any objections. I mean, you haven’t exactly become bosom buddies with the staff, but they all respect your professionalism.”
“They don’t know me,” I said. “Besides, I’m only here until Super Tuesday. I don’t want to distract from what we’re doing. I’ll be back to Tuniverse in a week. Posting stuff about my time here will just seem odd right now.”
“Would it?”
“A bit.”
“You don’t want people to know you’re working for me.” Nathan grinned widely. “You’re embarrassed to be here.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” I rolled my eyes.
“From Tuniverse to politics. People will talk.” He teased. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The pop-culture phenom lowering himself to helping his country.”
“Will I get fired if I tell you to fuck off?” I mumbled.
Nathan laughed. “No. But I don’t think you’re being honest about why you haven’t asked to film anything or take pictures. In fact, I don’t really ever see you on your phone. Either you’re embarrassed about your time here, you’re being honest about not wanting to be a distraction, or you don’t think it’s right for Tuniverse. Don’t want to sully your brand.”
With a sigh, I looked up at Nathan, deciding it was pointless to pretend I was still working on the angles.
“I don’t want to make people think we’re close,” I said.
“Close?” He frowned. “Why?”
“You just got out of one scandal,” I explained. “Having someone like me—a pop culture phenom, a lowly little YouTuber who does nothing to hide the fact that he’s gay—as a close advisor, might raise eyebrows. They look chummy, don’t they? See the way they smile when they’re on camera together? Something’s going on there. So, no. I’m not embarrassed or hiding anything or worried about my brand. I don’t want to ruin yours.”
“I see.”
“Simple as that.” I finished as a knock sounded through the suite.
“That’s thoughtful of you.” Nathan’s brow furrowed as I stood from the table. “It would be good for Tuniverse, though. I stand by that.”
“You don’t need to stand,” I said. “Sit there and wait while I get your breakfast. Then we’ll get started on Breakfast with Nathan Reed. All right?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
I left the meeting room and went directly to the hotel suite door, swinging it open carefully to not startle the agents posted outside. Hotel room service was waiting with a wheeled tabled containing the contents of mine and Nathan’s breakfast. The agents were averse to letting the hotel employee into the suite, so I took the table from him and advised that we’d leave it in the hallway after breakfast was over. The employee and agents found this a good compromise, so I pulled the table into the suite. I closed the door, effectively completing the transaction without too many bumps.
Back inside the meeting room, I unloaded the table, removing the chrome food covers and placing Nathan’s omelet and fruit bowl in front of him. But since I am an advisor and not a waiter, I let him prepare his own cup of coffee. I placed my omelet on my side of the table with my own bowl of fruit, prepared my own cup of coffee, and we got down to business. I gave Nathan the cue, and as we had prepared and planned, he said “hello” to the voting public on Facebook and Instagram.
Immediately, messages started rolling in, making it impossible for me to eat my food. I was only able to get a few sips of coffee as I did my best to feed Nathan questions to address. I didn’t bother telling him about the homophobic messages—especially since they were few. Nor did I tell him about the messages of opposition about his political campaign, since they were based solely on him as a person and not politics. I even let him know about the outpouring of supportive messages about how Governor Ledbetter and the media tried to railroad him with the made-up “scandal.”
It was apparent, a few minutes in, that it was impossible for Nathan to really eat and answer questions at the same time, so his food went mostly untouched as well. Though we had not promoted the Breakfast with Nathan Reed session on his social media accounts in advance, it was clear that people were exci
ted to see him suddenly pop up for an impromptu Q&A. Overall, he must have answered over a hundred questions from voters. Some were softball questions about his favorite color and if he had a pet, and others were hard-hitting questions about policy and the future of our country. In my opinion, he did well and came off as a pretty likable and knowledgeable candidate.
