The Sweet Thief

by Temple Madison

  “Who is he?” Gabrielle breathed.

  “He’s our new president,” the other woman muttered. “Look at the bastard. Every hair in place, everything about him perfect, right down to his goddamned fingernails.”

  “He’s magnificent,” Gabrielle said excitedly. “So unlike other men I’ve known.”

  The woman snickered. “Sure, but so what? That dreamboat wouldn’t have either one of us on a friggin’ bet.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Gabrielle muttered as her sultry eyes narrowed on the handsome image.

  “You thinkin’ of puttin’ some kind of spell on him, maybe?” she teased. “That’s the only way you’d get that one, sweetheart. He can have any goddamned woman he wants, and he don’t want neither one of us.” Her face twisted up with anger. “Here’s what I think about you, Mr. Big-Shot.” She began working her mouth, and a glob of spit flew from her lips and landed right in the big middle of Griff Nyle’s handsome face. The woman laughed and pointed insanely.

  “What have you done?” Gabrielle yelled as she stared at drool sliding down the TV screen. She tackled the woman, landing on top of her. Reaching down, she grabbed her hair with both hands and banged her head against the cement floor that was covered with nothing but thin, cheap carpeting. “I’ll kill you for that!” she roared as she slapped and clawed the woman.

  * * * *

  Hearing the commotion, a nurse and an orderly came running in and pulled Gabrielle off her.

  Gabrielle struggled while the orderly held her tightly. “Get your big, hairy hands off me, you gorilla!”

  “Just calm down, you crazy bitch,” he yelled, then threw her down in a chair and told her to stay there.

  Just before he left, Gabrielle spat at him. He turned and lifted a hand to hit her, but stopped when the nurse bellowed out, “Burt!”

  “That crazy bitch is gonna end up killin’ somebody someday. How many times this month have I had to break up a fight that she started?”

  “Don’t you know about that one?” the nurse whispered. “She’s a fuckin’ witch, and as mean as a bed of red ants. You’d do well to stay away from her. She’ll be leavin’ soon anyway.”

  “Leavin’? But she’s dangerous. She needs to be locked up.”

  “Look, I ain’t getting mixed up with the likes of her. The law says we can’t keep her past her twenty-fifth birthday. After that, she’s on her own.”

  “But if somebody don’t help her, she’s gonna wind up dead or in prison somewhere for murder.”

  “That’s her problem. Mine is keepin’ her alive while she’s here.”

  Looking back at the wasted life of the beautiful young woman, he reluctantly turned and followed the nurse out, leaving Gabrielle to her flickering screen and wicked dreams.

  * * * *

  Back in Washington—

  Even though the red lights on the television cameras had clicked off, the rally was hardly over. The VIPs of Washington continued celebrating the election of Griff Nyle as they surrounded him with their hearty congratulations. He preened before the smiling faces and adoring eyes, knowing it was a day that would go down in history. They were tired of presidents with white hair and aching bones. They welcomed young blood in their midst—young blood that was just as ruthless, unfeeling and callous as the rest of them.

  They will remember this night, Griff thought as he moved among them receiving their congratulations. They seemed to be coming from everywhere. Senators, men and women in Congress, Pentagon officials, former presidents and their wives gathered beneath the red, white, and blue banners. Each reached for his hand, and some slapped his back affectionately as their wives looked up into his face, openly admiring him. Griff felt like a god as he walked among the bright colored balloons that had fallen to the floor. Laughter, jokes, and good-natured kidding bounced off the walls as Griff gloried in the attention.

  Griff knew, as did many of his kind, that political affairs weren’t only about speeches, flags, balloons, and champagne, they were also about women who loved men in power, and they were everywhere—waiting.

  Later on that night, Senator Bliss took them to a little restaurant on the Potomac that catered to politicians. When Griff and his party walked in, everyone stood up and cheered. After he received hearty congratulations, the owner came out, took the party to the best table in the house, and told them the meal was on him.

  When they were seated, the first thing Senator Bliss did was order the best champagne, and the whole room made a toast to a long and successful presidency. Heads kept turning, even the sultry glances of beautiful women who caught Griff’s eye.

  “Well, son, it happened. I told you how it’d be with Lorelei at your side. The next thing we have to consider...”

  Griff’s hooded gaze slid over to the woman he despised. He didn’t know why he hated her—maybe because everyone was trying to get him to love her. She was certainly beautiful enough, and a knockout in an evening gown. She might not be the Grace Kelly type, but she knew how to conduct herself and how to carry on an intelligent conversation. Her hair was still long, and she wore it up in a very chic French twist just the way he liked it. He hated to admit it, but there wasn’t even one time she had caused him any embarrassment. In fact, if anything, she had helped him. She had come a long way since eighteen, and it was very possible the senator knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Now, Griff, keep in mind that just because you’ve been elected, that doesn’t mean it’s all over with. No siree. Actually, this is just the beginning. The first thing we’ve got to keep in mind is...”

  By this time Griff had reached the end of his patience. “Senator, can’t you talk about anything but business? We’ve won, for god’s sake. Can’t we just relax and enjoy it? Tomorrow is soon enough to think about the next step.”

  “But, Griff, my boy, there are a few things that need to be ironed out, such as...”

  Griff sighed, knowing it was a losing battle, so he resigned himself to spending the whole night under the sound of the senator’s droning voice. With a bored look on his face, he slowly lifted his drink to his mouth and nodded in agreement at the appropriate times. In only a few moments, he noticed that just to the right—just over the old man’s shoulder—a stunning woman was watching him. Griff became alert, and his gaze darted between her and the senator, seeing her smile and wink to convey heated messages with her expressive eyes and restless tongue. He felt his desire climb. He wanted to do what came naturally to him—so why didn’t he?

  He lowered his eyes and looked at his wedding ring and the expensive cuff links with the presidential seal on them he’d received from the senator. He fondled them for a moment before he looked up at the roomful of people who had cheered him when he walked in, and knew what he had to do.

  He didn’t realize it, but at that moment, he’d made his first executive decision. Now wasn’t the time—not after he’d just been elected.

  Damn!

  * * * *

  Lorelei sat fidgeting. She was still waiting for Griff to make her his wife. He hadn’t on their wedding night, he hadn’t on their honeymoon, and now he treated her more like a business partner than a wife. She looked down at her watch, totally bored.

  “What’s wrong, honey? You seem agitated.”

  “You two will be talkin’ business. Do you mind if I go on home? I’m a little tired.” She forced a smile. “Busy day, you know.”

  “Why, of course not, darlin’. You’ll have to forgive me, pussycat, but when I start talkin’ business, I just forget everything else. You go on home now and get some rest. We’ll be along shortly.”

  When Lorelei made a move to rise from her chair, Griff rose with her. He quickly came around the table, pulled her chair out, put her coat around her shoulders, planted a peck on her cheek, and mumbled something about being sorry she wasn’t feeling well. The first lesson her training had taught her was that a camera could be focused on her at any moment, so it was best to be careful. Knowing this, she responded to him
as she always did in public. She smiled up at him warmly, her smile saying—What a perfect gentleman, thoughtful husband, wonderful man—and skirt-chasing bastard you are!

  She turned to leave, and was surprised when he insisted on taking her outside and hailing a cab. She was further surprised when he even departed from his usual cold indifference and waited for the cab to get there instead of leaving her on a dark corner to fend for herself.

  “Good night,” he said icily while leaning over to open the cab door. “Be sure to get some sleep, you seem nervous.”

  “Griff,” Lorelei began. “If I seem nervous it’s because we have two bedrooms. Can you comment on that... Mr. President?”

  “I, uh, have a problem sleeping. I’m on medication. It’s being handled.”

  She looked down at his lapel, and said, “No, Griff. What you have a problem with is staying faithful.” Reaching up, she gingerly picked something off his lapel. “Oh, look, a blonde hair. I wonder where that came from? Could it be from the blonde who followed you into the... men’s room?”

  He looked down at her with an arrogant curling of his lip and answered, “None of your fucking business.”

  “No?” she answered, bringing her knee up and slamming it into his genitals. When she saw the two Secret Service men make a start in her direction, she said vehemently, “I dare you!”

  “What the hell did you do that for?” Griff roared out through a cry of pain.

  “I just hate split ends,” she said sweetly as she stepped up to the cab door. Before she got in, she said, “Well, ta-ta, suga, you have a good evenin’.”

  When the cab drove away, Lorelei looked out the window at the sinful city’s twinkling lights reflecting on the Potomac—with tears in her eyes.

  * * * *

  The minute Griff came home, he barged into Lorelei’s room, yelling, “You goddamned little bitch. You want to be fucked? Then why in hell don’t you go down and drag a man in off the street and fuck him? Maybe then you’ll leave me alone.”

  “Well, hello to you, too.”

  In response to her sarcasm, Griff began tearing pictures off the walls and smashing the glass under his feet. Like a raving lunatic, he swept his arm across her dresser and chest, knocking her things to the floor. “Get off my back, lady. I’ll go to bed with any goddamned woman I choose, and you won’t say a word about it. Got that?”

  “Sure, Mr. President,” she said with a mocking smile. “Whatever you say.”

  With that he turned and slammed out the door.

  * * * *

  The slam echoed around the room and Lorelei’s rigid manner crumbled. Not being able to hold it back any longer, she leaned her head over and cried into her hands, trying not to let her sobs be heard.

  Chapter Five

  The first White House scandal—

  Lorelei had already learned to hate this life. She had learned to smile when she was crying inside, to lie to her friends, and to attend functions with people she hated.

  Now, as she stood trying to breathe in the hot, smoky room of the latest party, Sidney Wilde, a reporter for the Washington Post, seemed to be interested in hearing her life story.

  “Lorelei’s a beautiful name,” the man said, sipping his drink and looking down at her through the half-open eyes and slurring words of a drunken haze. “I’ve heard it before. Somewhere in history, or...” He hesitated, frowning. “Yeah, I remember now. There’s a legend. What’s the story?”

  “It’s the name of a siren that lured men to their doom.”

  Sidney almost choked, spewing his drink.

  Lorelei quickly pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped at his jacket. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I’d tell Griff about, you know, luring men to their doom, and all.”

  Lorelei laughed. “Don’t be silly, Sidney. It’s just a story. You remember it, don’t you? Lorelei, the little water sprite that would sit upon a rock in the Rhine River and sing? It’s said that her song was irresistible to men.”

  “Some legend,” Sidney said as he continued to wipe down his jacket.

  “It’s not a legend, Sidney, it’s a myth. You know, a superstition, or some...” Her voice trailed off when she happened to look up and see Griff following a woman upstairs.

  “So...” Sidney began, then shifted his focus over to what she was looking at. His gaze quickly darted back to her and he continued talking. “You were named after a siren, huh? Interesting.”

  “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, preoccupied with what was going on upstairs. “There were many down through the ages.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well,” she replied, keeping one eye on the dark stairway, “Delilah for one. Jezebel, Circe. Even Lucretia Borgia. They were all sirens. All lured men to their doom.”

  “Yeah, but what a way to go, huh?” he said and laughed uncomfortably as he furtively shifted his eyes back toward the stairs.

  “Excuse...”

  The man quickly put his arm up, preventing Lorelei from leaving. “Would you say it’s affected your life in any way?”

  She looked at him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, since you were named after a siren, do you think you have the same heritage? In other words, do you—” He lowered his voice, and it trembled ominously. “Lead men to their doom?”

  “Don’t be silly, Sidney. It’s just a name, that’s all. Like Alice, or Mary.”

  “Well, you never know,” he said, lifting his eyebrows as he looked down at her. “A myth yesterday turns into reality today. I think it would make a great story. You know, the new president being led to his doom by a beautiful predatory female? Only one glitch. It can’t be his wife. Now, if we could find...”

  “Really, Sidney, you’ve been in the newspaper game too long.” She looked down at the drink in his hand. “You need to go a little easy on those. It’s still early in the evening.”

  Lorelei finally managed to get out of the hot corner and away from Sidney. She still had her eyes on the dark staircase and was tempted to follow it up into the dimly lit hallway. She glanced around to make sure she wasn’t being watched and began climbing slowly, a gnawing apprehension rising with each step.

  When she made it to the top, she glanced around at each room, not knowing where to begin. A series of sounds got her attention, and she followed them. As she nervously stood in front of the door the sounds were coming from, she made one more sweeping glance around the darkness. When she was satisfied that no one was around, she gently opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw Griff on the bed with a woman that had her dress hiked up and was naked to her waist.

  Before she knew what was happening, Lorelei was roughly shoved aside and stood overwhelmed in the midst of popping flashbulbs. The private bedroom came alive with surprised gasps, cries, shouts, and shocked, clamoring people. The guilty couple lunged forward, and Griff jumped up, quickly zipping up his pants as the girl tried desperately to hide her ample breasts behind folds of her clothing.

  Lorelei couldn’t look. She swiftly turned away from the horrible scene and hurried through the excited crowd. Once outside the door, she tearfully shrank back into the darkness of the corridor, listening to Griff yell as if insulted that his privacy had been invaded. Her First Lady’s composure at last cracked under a flood of tears, and as she ran to get as far away from this scandalous scene as possible, the blaze of flashbulbs silhouetted her fleeing form. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she grabbed her purse and her wrap and ran outside to the limousine. When the chauffeur saw her running toward him in a distressed state, he reached out and caught her just as she fell into his arms. He quickly helped her into the car and drove her back to the White House, then went back for Griff.

  The next day the story was plastered on every paper, talked about on every TV station, and magazines tossed out special issues devoted to the latest White House scandal.

  The senator was at home, sitting
on the commode with the paper spread out in front of him and chewing on his favorite cigar. When he got an eyeful of the front page, he jumped up, his butt trembling as he stumbled around with his trousers down around his ankles. He sputtered out profanities as he made his way into his bedroom, tugging at his pants. When he had just barely gotten himself covered up, he zipped up and sprinted out his front door and over to the White House.

  “You lowdown, good-for-nothin’ bastard!” the senator yelled down into Griff’s face. “I ought to take you, tie you to the bed and cut that damned thing off. Maybe then you’d think more about this country’s business instead of wonderin’ whose bed you can get into next.”

  Griff lunged forward, scowling, but the senator pushed him back down. “Ain’t my daughter enough for you, you Yankee tomcat? Why in hell do you think you have to hump every woman that draws a breath?”

  Griff remained silent.

  “Answer me, you goddamned blue belly!”

  With his lips drawn into a straight line, Griff still refused to speak.

  Giving up for the moment, the senator looked over at Lorelei. “Why ain’t you pregnant yet, girl? You ain’t takin’ some kind of concher... whatever the hell they call them damned birth control things, are you?”

  “No, Daddy.”

  “Then why ain’t you big as a house? Hellfire, woman, by this time, you oughta have one hangin’ on your hip and another in the oven.” He turned back to Griff. “Somethin’ the matter with you, boy? Southern men are famous for keepin’ their women barefoot and pregnant.”