Black President Season 2 Collection

by Brenda Hampton

To no surprise, after Mr. Macon’s suicide in jail, the heat came my way. Some people assumed I had something to do with it, but my lips remained sealed. I didn’t even bother to offer my condolences to his family, and since I hadn’t said anything about the incident, many white supremacist groups decided to protest around the country, even in front of the White House. Andrew and my Press Secretary, Sam, were upset and afraid. They begged me to say something to calm things down. Thus far, a few brawls had happened, but many more white supremacist groups started to show up in areas where they knew serious confrontations would arise.

  “Mr. President,” Sam said while sitting on the sofa with his beer belly touching his lap. I stood next to a bookshelf, gazing at a photo of President Lincoln that was beside it. “You have to say something. I’ve been doing my best answering reporters’ questions, but the American people want to hear from you.”

  “I agree,” Andrew added. “Many more news outlets are reporting that you had something to do with Mr. Macon’s death. His family doesn’t believe he committed suicide, and they’re starting to make a lot of noise. You need to quiet the noise and confirm that you had nothing to do with his death.”

  I touched the gold frame around Lincoln’s picture and rubbed my thumb across his name that was engraved. “Whenever I hear anyone arguing for slavery, I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally. That’s what Lincoln said, and another one of my favorite quotes of his is when he said, I do not wish to be misunderstood upon this subject of slavery in this country. I suppose it may long exist. Perhaps the best way for it to come to an end peaceably is for it to exist for a length of time. But I say that the spread, strengthening and perpetuation of it is an entirely different proposition. That we should in every way resist it as a wrong, treating it as a wrong, with a fixed idea that it must and will come to an end. I believe he said that during a speech in, uh, 1858 or 59, one of those years. What I can’t believe is hundreds and hundreds of years later, we have people in this country who honestly believe that we’re going back. That by protesting, they’re going to make a point or resolve something. Asking me to speak out in regards to their foolishness is a fucking insult to me. I don’t have to say one word, especially when they travel to those inner cities and the shit really hits the fan.”

  “But you can put a stop to this now, Sir,” Sam said. “You don’t want shit to hit the fan, do you? A lot of people could get hurt. You are capable of calming things down, and I really think you should do it.”

  I slipped my hands into my pockets, then turned to face Sam and Andrew. “Understand that people are sick of the bullshit. Not only black people, but people from all races are sick of being treated like they don’t belong in this country. That motherfucker spit in my face, and president or not, his actions should be condemned. I’m not offering my condolences to anyone. People can believe what they want; too damn bad. If the two of you want me to take action, go get me about a hundred Tiki torches. Contact every member of the Congressional Black Caucus and ask them to join me in front of the White House tonight. If anyone else wants to join us, feel free.”

  “Mr. President, you couldn’t be serious,” Andrew said. “There are hundreds of white supremacists out there right now, and if you go out there, you will put your life at risk, along with the lives of many others. That’s a very dangerous move.”

  I shrugged. “Dangerous, maybe. Smart, hell yes. Now get me those torches and start making some phone calls for me. If not, I’ll make them myself.”

  Sam and Andrew left the Oval Office with disappointment written across their faces. They didn’t return until two hours later. By then I was casually dressed in denim jeans and a button-down black shirt. An assault rifle was strapped across my chest, and with comfortable tennis shoes on, I was ready to go speak up as Sam and Andrew had suggested. They both looked at me like I had lost my mind.

  “Sir, please don’t do this,” Andrew said, pleading with me. “You don’t have to go out there and do this. Your bully pulpit allows you to stay safe and address issues like this from right behind that desk over there. I fear this is going to send the wrong message to the American people.”

  “You mean, you fear I’m going to send a clear message to people who go out there and stand against this bullshit every day. I’m no different from them. At the end of the day, we are all striving for the same thing.”

  I walked around Andrew and headed toward the door. “Are those Tiki torches here yet?”

  “They’re on a truck near the security checkpoint.”

  “What about members of the Congressional Black Caucus?”

  “Some of them said they would meet you outside.”

  I turned to face Andrew and Sam with a stern look on my face. “What about the two of you? If you say you have my back, now would be a damn good time to show it.”

  “We do, Sir,” Sam said. “But we think you’re making a big mistake.”

  I didn’t bother to respond. I marched out of the Oval Office, and within minutes, my Secret Service detail followed me. I also heard many gripes from them.

  “Bad move, Mr. President,” said one agent. “We can’t protect you like this.”

  “We don’t mind if you do this, Sir,” another one said. “But maybe you should consider planning this out more carefully.”

  I ignored them all and kept walking. By the time I made my way to the exit door, I turned to face them.

  “Either you’re with me or you’re not,” I said. “I don’t care either way and no one is going to stop me.”

  I pushed the door open, and as I moved toward the checkpoint gate, I could see numerous members from the Congressional Black Caucus waiting for me. Secret Service followed. I shook hands with some of the members of the BC; they were surprised to see me.

  “What’s the plan, Mr. President?” Senator Fletcher said. “We got Andrew’s call and we’re waiting on you.”

  “The plan is to just stand before them, show no fear and don’t say one word. Just look them in the eyes. They’ll understand our purpose. No fighting, no arguing, no throwing things . . . nothing. Understand?”

  Everyone nodded, and after we removed the Tiki torches from several trucks, we lit them and headed towards a large area around the White House were hundreds of protesters stood, waving Confederate flags, holding up insulting photos of me and carrying negative signs relating to, mostly, blacks and Jews. As we neared the crowd in small numbers, they couldn’t believe it. We were definitely outnumbered, simply because every member of the Congressional Black Caucus didn’t show up. Nonetheless, our appearance had many of them in shock. Their mouths were dropped open, eyes were wide and anger swept throughout the crowds of people who headed our way. We halted our steps and stood on a large grassy area in silence. The lit Tiki torches were lifted high in our hands and no one was smiling, barely even breathing. Not even my Secret Service detail, who for the first time appeared nervous as crowds of white supremacists rushed our way. Within a few minutes, many of them stood before us grunting with mean mugs on their faces and using racial slurs. Screeching cars could be heard in the distance; the media had shown up. Cameras flashed as we all stood there, staring each other down. No one from my side moved. I was barely breathing and my eyes were locked on one man in front of me who waved a Confederate flag.

  “It was nice of you to show up, Mr. Loser. I know what you did to my brother and there is no way in hell he committed suicide while in jail! You gon’ need to tell us what really happened to him or else things around this country gon’ turn real ugly for you and your kinfolks.”

  It was considered a crime to threaten the president, and as two Secret Service agents stepped forward to confront the man, I stopped them.

  “Let it go this time. Allow him to exercise his first amendment right and do not arrest him. Suicides happen a lot while people are in jail. Especially, to black people who all of a sudden decide to take their lives. It’s a shame, and I regret that your brother felt like he had no other options.�
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  My words and calmness angered him. He moved forward, Secret Service pushed him back.

  “Spit on that nigger, Frankie! Spit on all of them!”

  “Burn’em! They all need to burn!”

  The crowd got rowdy, but the side I was on remained silent. Water bottles were thrown; some of the bottles hit a few BC members, but they didn’t budge. Insults were being hurled at us, and the one word they continued to reach for was nigger. Nigger this, nigger that. Go back to Africa and never come back. It was a pathetic sight to see, but as the clock ticked away, all of it was being televised for our nation to witness. It wasn’t long before other people started to show up—more members from the BC, people who lived and worked in the area and a bunch of young people who refused to stand for this. People from all races stood behind and beside us. And in less than an hour, our side outnumbered theirs. The crowd was massive and every single person stood silent.

  “Nigger lovers,” the white supremacists chanted. “White lives matter,” they screamed at the top of their lungs and they laughed when more people showed up.

  “How special is that?” said one man. “You must feel real good to have all these nigger lovers on your side. Come election time, I guarantee you they won’t be there for you. This is all for the cameras, and you’d better believe your ass will be out of our house!”

  I smirked as I looked at the fool in front of me. Kind of felt sorry for him—just a little bit. My unfazed expression angered them even more, and when they realized we weren’t going to entertain their foolishness, the crowd started to disperse. One by one, they moved in another direction and eventually left the premises. They promised to be back, and if they came back, I planned to be out here again. I couldn’t believe how massive the crowd with me had swelled. I thanked everyone for showing up and shook many hands. I had to cut my time with the crowd short because Secret Service was on pins and needles.

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” many people expressed their gratitude. I waved, and when I saw Sam and Andrew standing with Tiki torches, I cut my eyes at them. I made my way back into the White House, without incident.

  “You made us real nervous out there, Sir,” said one agent. “I’m glad things turned out as they did.”

  Another agent chimed in. “We are very pleased about the outcome. We’ve never had to stand there and participate in anything like that. I hope you never advise us to do it again, because our number one job is to protect you.”

  “It is,” I said while moving towards the Oval Office. “But next time, somebody needs to catch that spit.”

  They chuckled, but I didn’t see shit funny. Some members from my administration clapped their hands and pat my back as I opened the door to the Oval Office. I wasn’t sure if they had stood with me or not, but it didn’t matter. My approach was a success and the media was going crazy. People from other cities had started to do the same thing. No fighting, no shooting, no arguing . . . just looking them straight in their eyes and showing no fear. It worked in many places, but some people in the inner cities weren’t having it. A few fights had broken out, two people had been shot and one officer had been injured from trying to break up a fight. I watched the news, until Andrew and Sam returned to my office with Tiki torches in their hands.

  “Okay,” Andrew said. “I was wrong, Mr. President, and I apologize for not following your lead. Hopefully, you can forgive me and Sam for not listening to you. We did, however, stand with you tonight.”

  “We sure did, Sir. And I apologize too,” Sam said.

  I reached for a piece of gum in my drawer, then closed it. I replied without looking at them.

  “Exit. I want some peace tonight. I need to prepare for my visit to the United Nations in a few days, and I could really use some sleep.”

  They left my office on what we all considered a good note. I knew it was difficult for them to follow my lead this time, but next time no excuses would be accepted.

  As a routine, I got some work done, talked to several Congressmen and women who were pleased about what had transpired tonight. Even VP Bass had reached out to me.

  “I was on my way there, but traffic was so crazy that I didn’t make it on time,” she said. “And even though I don’t like to get in the middle of all that racial stuff, Mr. President, I do applaud you for taking a stand against white supremacy. We don’t have time for that in this country. We’re not going back and the only way is forward.”

  “I agree. And after you make your way through traffic, we need to discuss some things tomorrow. There is too much legislation pending and we need to work on a budget and talk about the debt ceiling before Congress goes on break.”

  “We definitely will. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Sir.”

  We ended the call on a positive note, which was rare. I couldn’t believe the pleasant mood so many people were in. The phone calls I’d gotten were positive, the media was speaking good things about me and people across America weighed in on TV.

  “See, that’s the kind of president we need,” a black man from Baltimore said. “One who ain’t afraid to stand with us. I feel proud tonight. Real proud and I do believe a change is coming.”

  Another lady weighed in. “I feel proud to be an American. We are at our best when we stand together. I didn’t always understand that, but I sure as heck do now.”

  While lying on the sofa, I stayed up until almost one in the morning watching what was happening around the country. What I saw made me feel proud. I felt that a change was coming; it was coming one day at a time. That’s what I‘d told myself, until a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Andrew walked in; Michelle was behind him.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were asleep or not, but you always told me if she called to make sure—”

  I sat up and lifted my hand to halt his explanation. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

  He walked around Michelle and closed the door behind him. She stood for a moment, staring at me. I didn’t say anything to her until she moved closer and remained in front of me with a silver mini-dress on, showing her pretty brown legs that looked dipped in oil. Her tiny hard nipples poked through the top section of the dress—I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. I wasn’t even sure if she had on panties, but I would soon find out. I looked up at her; she looked down at me.

  “I thought you didn’t want this to continue,” I said. “I’m surprised you changed your mind already.”

  She touched the side of my face with her finger, while gazing into my eyes. “I told you to stop coming to me. I never said I wouldn’t come to you. Even though I’m fighting like hell to stay away from you, I can’t. I’m in love with a brave man who consumes my mind too much. There are days when I’m so done with you and days when I just have to see you. It’s a battle, and tonight, I lost the battle. I had to hold you, and I want you to make love to me all night, if you’re feeling up to it.”

  Her admission garnered no response from me. But when she straddled her legs and squatted on my lap, I had to say something.

  “You’re wet. Real wet, and it’s apparent that you started having sex with me before you got here.”

  “Only in my head.” She reached down to remove my steel from my briefs. It plopped out long and rock hard. “And now, your head will have the pleasure of feeling everything I was thinking about on my way here.”

  I wanted to feel all of it, so I lifted my buttocks from the sofa and removed my briefs. Michelle pulled her dress over her head; her shapely body sent me to La-La Land. My hands traced her curves, but as I lifted her round cheeks so she could squat on me again, she stopped me. She also lifted my head, before I had a chance to tease her nipples that were right in front of my face.

  “What?” I questioned. “Don’t tease me and please don’t change your mind about this.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind, but there’s something important I think you should know, just in case we get interrupted and I have to leave quickly. It’s about your mother. She came
to my place to express how unhappy you are. She offered me money to have your child and she encouraged me to keep seeing you. I want you to know that I’m not here because of her. I don’t want another child, but if there is anything else I can do to make you happy, please tell me because I’m willing to do it.”

  Hearing about my mother’s ongoing shenanigans frustrated me, but I shook it off. I showed Michelle how she could make me happy, and as she secured her soft legs around me, I indulged. Our bodies rocked fiercely together in sync. She rode me so well that I gripped her cheeks tighter and dropped my head back. My eyes were shut tight as she grinded her hips to a rhythmic pace that locked me in a trance. I relieved myself when I lifted my head and covered my mouth over her breasts. My tongue turned in speedy circles around her nipples, making them even harder. This time, her head was dropped back and she whined her words loudly.

  “Do you really want another child? Just tell me and I’ll—”

  “No,” I quickly said. “All I want right now is you in every way possible.”

  I wrapped my arm around her waist and laid her back on the sofa. With one of her legs poured over my shoulder, I plunged deep into her insides, causing her juices to squirt all over me. She bellowed out after every long stroke that I gave her, and with her creamy fluids building more by the seconds, I had to return the favor. My downtime didn’t last for long, and honoring her request, I made love to her throughout the Oval Office. We ended up near the east door that led to the Rose Garden. Michelle was on her hands and knees, rocking her beautiful body back-and-forth in a doggy style position, while I dipped into her tightened folds. I couldn’t get enough of watching her mountains bounce against me. I felt high as a kite. Her folds tightened on me, and seconds later, she sprayed me again too cool us down. As she laid flat on her stomach, I laid over her. I kissed the nape of her neck, before my tongue traveled down her sweaty spine. I planted kisses on her soft butt cheeks, and after I parted them, I took my time cleaning up the sticky little mess she’d made. After each swipe of my tongue, she lifted her mountains higher and higher, giving me more access to the good stuff. I felt so energetic that we resumed on the sofa, where she saddled up and rode me again. This time, her back faced me. My body weakened, especially when she fell forward and touched the floor. We fought hard to make it to the finish line, and in the midst of expressing ourselves, there was a light knock at the door. Seconds later, in walked Andrew. General Stiles was behind him. I quickly reached for a sheet next to me, throwing it over Michelle to cover her naked body.