First Lady

by Blayne Cooper

  “May I escort you to dinner?” Devlyn bowed gallantly, causing Lauren to chuckle.

  She was about to say “of course” when she stopped. Lauren really didn’t want to go this very second. She wanted to play and she wanted something else, and both of those things, she decided, were worth pushing herself a tiny bit beyond her normal comfort zone. Besides, it was something she suspected her spouse would enjoy even more than she would. She gave Devlyn a sexy smile, and instead of answering Dev’s question, she posed one of her own.

  “Do you know how badly my fingers are itching to get to the beautiful body beneath that suit you’re wearing?” Her hand drifted down her own abdomen, her fingers suggestively dancing across cool silk.

  Devlyn’s mouth went as dry as the desert in less than a millisecond, and Lauren fought hard not to laugh out loud at the stunned but totally interested expression. “Ummm—” Dev swallowed and tried again, her eyes riveted to Lauren’s hand. “Ummm—”

  Luckily, Lauren wasn’t really looking for a verbal response. “Devlyn?”

  Electric-blue eyes snapped up to meet Lauren’s, their pupils already dilated.

  “Do you know how much I love and want you, Devlyn?” She let out a breathy sigh, and her hand reached up to cup her own breast. “It makes me crazy sometimes.”

  Dev’s hands went limp and, with twin thumps, the purses hit the floor.

  A low groan bubbled up from Lauren’s chest and she slowly licked her lips, giving her own breast a firm squeeze. “I can’t think of anything more divine than slowly undressing you, then kissing,” another squeeze, “and licking,” this time she pinched her nipple and wasn’t sure whether it was her or Devlyn that whimpered, “and wrapping my lips around—”

  Lauren’s words were cut off by the impact of a flying body. Their mouths crushed together in a fiery display of passion and raw want as loud, lusty moans filled the room. Long moments later, as a hot tongue caressed her throbbing jugular, Devlyn fuzzily, but finally, figured out the allure of being fashionably late.

  * * *

  Lauren took her place at the top of the executive grand staircase, which led into the State Dining Room, and was greeted by two hundred pairs of expectant eyes. She smiled weakly at the crowd below, saying a mental “thank you” when Devlyn moved away from her security team to join her.

  The President blinked a few times, moistening dry eyes.

  “How late are we?” Lauren managed to ask, without moving her lips.

  Dev smiled down at the Secretary of Veterans’ Affairs and his wife. The man raised his glass in silent tribute to Devlyn, and for a second the President just knew she had to be wearing a big old, lovesick, “I just had fabulous sex with my equally fabulous wife” smile on her face. She lifted her chin a little higher, deciding that that was about the best reason to smile she could think of. “I don’t care how late we are,” she murmured back. While it wasn’t quite the truth — Devlyn was, and always would be, compulsive about her responsibilities — just this once she was willing to cut herself a little slack. “Extra time and a few stolen kisses with you is worth giving all the apologies in the world for, Lauren. It was time well spent.”

  Dev turned her head and smiled at Lauren with so much heartfelt happiness and love that, for a moment, Lauren’s vision was blurred with unshed tears.

  “Ready?” Dev whispered.

  “No.”

  “Perfect.” But Devlyn stood her ground, allowing the dozens of photographs of them to be taken, all as she surveyed the landscape of the room.

  Lauren marveled at Devlyn’s calm, powerful presence. The eyes that had been trained on her only a few seconds before were all now firmly resting on one very presidential spot. Guts were sucked in, shoulders thrown back, and conversations hushed all around the room the instant Devlyn took her place by Lauren’s side. It was more than protocol or manners; Devlyn was the kind of leader whose presence alone commanded everyone’s undivided attention.

  The guests’ expressions ranged from envy to awe when they took in the sight of Devlyn and Lauren standing together. Lauren felt a surge of pride for her partner, and a smile bloomed on her lips, despite her own niggling apprehension.

  The music that had been playing stopped, and arm in arm they started walking, the Marine Honor Guard leading the way. She felt Dev’s hold on her hand tighten as they descended the stairs.

  “Ladies and gentleman, and honored guests,” a deep, disembodied voice announced. “The President of the United States and Ms. Lauren Strayer.”

  While many women kept their maiden name after they married, never had Lauren felt so conspicuous about doing so. Several nasty looks from some of the older guests below told her they would have much rather heard “Mrs. Marlowe” announced. She wondered briefly if they would have had collective aneurysms had Devlyn taken the name Strayer upon their marriage. Heh.

  The reception line loomed large and long before them and Lauren plastered on what she hoped would be a permanent smile. Devlyn’s, she noted, was wholly genuine, almost to the point of beaming. No wonder she continuously works herself to the point of exhaustion. She loves this.

  It took nearly 20 minutes to traverse the reception line, and when they reached the end Lauren couldn’t help but let out a long, relieved breath. She heard her spouse’s chuckles from a few feet away. “Tell me you’re not glad,” she said discreetly, her voice playful.

  “Oh, I’m glad.” Devlyn steered her towards the large, formally set banquet table, knowing that they would need to stop and mingle for at least a half an hour along the way. “I just hide it better.”

  Dev caught sight of David and Beth across the room and watched as David approached her with a grin on his face while Beth appeared far less pleased.

  “Hello, Madam President, Ms. Strayer,” David greeted formally, looking dapper in his tuxedo, his thick, red hair slicked straight back.

  Dev could tell by the expectant look on her chief of staff’s face that he had something to discuss with her, and she sucked in an excited breath in anticipation.

  David clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels as he turned his head to address Beth and Lauren. “Will you ladies excuse us, please?”

  “Yes,” Beth said tartly. “Go. I don’t want to look at either one of you.”

  David’s shoulders slumped just a tiny bit, and his gaze softened as he looked at his wife. “Beth—?”

  “Go on,” she interrupted, but managed to give her husband a resigned bump with her hip. “Go so Lauren and I can say terrible things about you both while you’re gone.”

  “Am I not going to like what you’re going to say?” Dev wondered out loud. That was not what the piratical gleam in David’s eyes had told her. She cocked her head in question.

  “You’re going to love it,” David gushed, his enthusiasm instantly restored despite his wife’s sour face. The tall man led Devlyn over to a quiet corner where they stood, heads tilted towards one another in conspiracy as they talked.

  “What are they in trouble for?” Lauren asked, accepting a drink from a server. “Thank you.”

  Gesturing with her chin, Beth indicated the area next to an enormous vase of flowers that sat on a white marble stand. It was a relatively quiet area and would allow them a moment of modest privacy without Lauren appearing anti-social. Beth leaned forward to smell the flowers as she spoke. “You didn’t have plans for your Sunday, did you?”

  Lauren’s eyes slammed shut.

  “You’re cursing in your head, aren’t you?”

  “Yes!” Lauren groaned. “What now?” She found herself wanting to wail and barely resisted the impulse. “She needs a day off!”

  “Take it easy.” Beth moved a little closer to her friend and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know she does. And you probably do, too. But I can guarantee that Devlyn won’t be relaxing by the pool this weekend.”

  Lauren pulled an orchid from the bouquet and examined its delicate petals with unseeing eyes. “I know wh
en to say I’ve had enough. She doesn’t.” Her jaw tensed as she replaced the flower, its delicate heady scent going completely unnoticed. “I seem to recall her taking off at least most of every Sunday. Now even getting her to do that is like pulling teeth. She’s burning the candle at both ends.”

  “You’re telling me? David’s only a little better, and that’s only because I outright threatened to divorce him if he didn’t spend a little time at home. God help us if he actually lived where he worked, too.” Beth turned to see Devlyn, who was smiling broadly and patting David on the back. “But emergencies do come up.”

  “There’s always an emergency.” Lauren’s face darkened. “And I won’t do that to her, Beth. I’m not above playing dirty, but she’s already worried that she’ll do something that will make me leave her. I won’t threaten her with that and add to her stress.”

  If Beth was surprised, she didn’t show it. “I’m glad.” She finished the last of her champagne and looked around for a place to deposit her glass. She decided to keep it in her hand when she realized she’d have to move to set it down. “Devlyn needs to be reassured that you’re not going to disappear on her, Lauren.” Her eyebrows knitted when her mind was involuntary drawn back to a very dark time in their lives. “I don’t think she’d live through it if you did.”

  “That’s not something Devlyn has to worry about,” Lauren informed her. The resolute quality of her voice left no room for doubt. “But her health, family, and well-being are.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you.” Beth ran a hand through her dark curls. “But I don’t know what to say about this weekend. David just got word that Sheik Haroun Yousif has finally agreed to come to the negotiating table. And he wants to do it tomorrow, with Dev and Secretary of State Jared Ortiz as mediators. Nothing is going to stop her from being there.”

  “Jesus. He said he’d never negotiate!” Lauren finished the contents of her glass in one long swallow, irrationally angry with a man she’d never met.

  “I know. But it looks like if it’s going to happen at all, it’s this Sunday at Camp David.”

  Lauren studied the bottom of her glass for a moment. “I can’t ask her not to take part in that. It’s what she and so many others have been working on for months.” She glanced up at Beth with a lost expression on her face. “But it’s always something important, isn’t it? She can never give enough.”

  Beth sighed. “She’s a strong leader who hasn’t accepted her own limitations because she doesn’t believe she’s reached them.”

  “She’s not just a leader, Beth. She’s a friend and a mother and a million other things that don’t stop demanding her time just because some land-grabbing bastard has finally decided he’d like to spend the weekend at Camp David.”

  “Lauren!” Beth glanced around again, but Lauren’s voice was so low that she’d barely heard her herself. “You’d better hope nobody around here can read lips.”

  “She can’t keep this pace up.”

  “Then you’d better prepare for a fight.”

  Lauren nodded grimly. “I can’t bear the thought of her hurting herself.”

  Beth’s smile was as gentle and reassuring as she could make it. “Neither can I. I’ll help all that I can.”

  Lauren gave her friend a quick hug. “I know you will. And I think I’m going to need all the help I can get.” She pulled away and surveyed the milling crowd that was, in small groups, starting to work its way near the dinner table. “Time to make nice with the guests?”

  “If we want to eat before midnight.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for an icy cold beer and fat cheeseburger.”

  Beth’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy at the mere thought. “With pickles, onion rings, and gobs and gobs of drippy ketchup.”

  “God, yes.”

  Both women moaned, then laughed. Their conversation wouldn’t be forgotten. But for now, there was other business at hand.

  Lauren set her sights on the Federal Reserve Board Chairman. Looking terribly uncomfortable, he was standing all alone and stuffing his mouth with meatballs and other hors d’oeuvres. She gave her dress a discreet tug and prepared herself for what she assumed would be the most boring conversation of her entire life. With a quick nod to herself, she was ready. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Dinner, which Lauren had to admit had been nothing short of delicious, had come and gone, and now was the time for coffee and socializing and working the beautifully decorated room, before the band would strike up a waltz and couples would take to the dance floor.

  Devlyn had just bent her head to whisper something in Lauren’s ear when she saw Kenyan President Johibhi and his wife, smiling and heading their way. Devlyn guided her over to yet another spot in the room and Lauren smiled when she realized they were moving towards the President and his wife.

  “President Johibhi.” Dev took the man’s hand. “I trust you’re enjoying your stay?”

  “Ah, Madam President, very much so.” His voice had a pleasant lilt and cadence that made Lauren smile. When she offered her hand in greeting, the slender man promptly brought it his lips and kissed it. “It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Strayer."

  “I’m very pleased to meet you as well.” Lauren said.

  The man gave her a radiant smile in return. “May I present my wife Ngini?” he announced, stepping slightly away from the brightly dressed woman so that both the President and Lauren could greet her.

  “How are your daughters Akinyi, Wairimu, Muthoni, Sikudhani, and Eucabeth? I trust they are all enjoying their time at the University of Nairobi?” Devlyn asked.

  Lauren, for the umpteenth time that night, tried not to let her jaw hit the floor as Ngini, Devlyn and President Johibhi chatted happily about college life and the girls’ majors. I’ve married Rain Woman. How in the hell does she remember all this? She forgot Aaron’s name last week when he went streaking through the living room after his bath!

  When their conversation was through and while they were on their way back to the dance floor, Lauren whispered, “You quoted everything from three different countries' gross national product to the name of Prime Minister Foster’s cat! You’re amazing, but you’re not that amazing. What’s up?”

  They stopped on the dance floor and faced each other. Devlyn took Lauren’s hand, grateful for the opportunity to pull her close. When the music began, they moved around the room with the practiced ease of two women who knew each other’s bodies well… and had had lots and lots of lessons. “Ask me later,” Devlyn murmured. “But… um, do you really think I’m amazing?”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “You know I do. You just want me to say it again.” They laughed, and Lauren closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the mesmerizing strains of a familiar waltz.

  * * *

  Dev crashed into their bed face first. The long night was finally over, and her voice was nearly gone from talking with so many people. Sleeping on this very spot, clothes and all, was a very good idea, she decided. “Tell everyone I died,” she groaned when she heard the door close.

  “Don’t joke about that, Devlyn. It’s not even close to funny.”

  Dev rolled over and gazed up at Lauren, who was standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. “Sorry, I’m just tired.” Dev looked away. “Are you mad at me about this weekend?”

  Lauren sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not mad, Devlyn. But I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Unzip me?”

  Devlyn sat up and set to work on Lauren’s dress. “I’ll make it up to you and the kids.”

  “And who's going to make it up to you?” the smaller woman asked quietly.

  Dev’s hands paused as she took in the suddenly rigid posture of Lauren’s back. She didn’t say a word, fully aware that she didn’t have a good answer for that. When she finished with Lauren’s zipper, she lay back down and changed the subject.

  “Hey, would you
be horribly upset if I got this cut?” She tugged on her own, dark locks.

  Lauren allowed the subject change without protest, deciding she wouldn’t make any progress at 3:30 a.m. and admitting to herself that Devlyn wouldn’t put up with “handling.” She needed a plan of action. “Why would you want to do that?” She pulled Devlyn’s shoes off and then slipped out of her own dress, letting it pool at her feet.

  “I dunno. I’ve always heard that when a woman reaches a certain age she’s too old for long hair.”

  Lauren stepped out of her dress and tossed it over a nearby chair, deciding there was no use in hanging up what the White House laundry would dry clean the next day anyway. “Mmm… And do you agree with that?”

  “I guess so. I mean, I’m not sure. Maybe.” She scooted over as Lauren climbed onto the bed wearing only a skimpy black slip. “Oooo… that’s nice.” Devlyn drew her fingertip across the smooth material as Lauren snuggled up to her.

  “It’s your hair, darlin’,” Lauren said on a yawn, her breath warming Dev’s neck. She turned and nuzzled the strands in question and drew in a happy breath. “You don’t need my permission to cut it. But if you’re asking my opinion, I happen to think it’s beautiful the way it is.”

  “And if I get it cut?”

  “I’m sure it will still look beautiful.” She kissed Devlyn’s cheek and laid her head on a warm shoulder. “There’ll just be less of it.” Her fingers sneaked over and began undoing Dev’s buttons. “You’re not going to sleep in this, right?” She gave the green material a little tug.

  Dev yawned. “Depends on how fast your fingers are.”

  “Devlyn?”

  “Yeah?”

  Dev’s eyes slid closed and she grimaced; they felt dry and itchy.

  “How did you know everyone’s hometown and spouse’s name and a million other things tonight? God, you didn’t slip once.”

  “Ahhh, yes,” Dev grinned, “my secret.” She crooked her finger. “C’mon here.”