“Then that would kind of break my heart,” she said instead.
TWELVE
The presidential motorcade sat idling in the White House driveway as Dutch stood at the opened door of his limousine and lifted Little Walt up into his arms. That small scratch on the side of his face, made inadvertently by Gina during their altercation, caused his perceptive son to run his finger along its outer edge. Jade and Christian were also standing beside Dutch, with Jade’s arms around his waist and her head on his shoulders. Crader and LaLa stood farther away, in their own private conversation. And although Gina was standing out there, too, her arms folded against the breeziness of the day, it was obvious that there was nothing but tension between the First Couple.
They had called a truce after that emotional night in the Residence. But neither had backed down. Dutch, in fact, would work late into the night, and always ended up sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms. Which was fine by Gina. She wasn’t backing down, either, and didn’t want to be pressured into backing down. Dutch seemed to sense it and kept his distance.
But it was all so disturbing for both of them. For Gina, she felt disconnected without Dutch’s complete and unconditional support. He was her rock and she knew it. But what could she do, she thought as she watched him say goodbye to the children. This was her brother’s last gasp at freedom, and she wasn’t turning her back on him the way she believed the justice system did.
After Dutch hugged Jade and Christian, with Little Walt still in his arms, he took peeps over at Gina. His heart was hammering when he looked at her. He would give anything to be able to agree with what she wanted to do, but he couldn’t. But he deeply respected her loyalty to her brother.
“Come here,” he said to her.
She didn’t hesitate, mainly because Little Walt was watching his parents and she didn’t want to do anything that would make him feel that something wasn’t right. Although it wasn’t. She had hoped they could leave on civil terms and, after she left Canada and made her way to Japan, make up for any disagreements. The intense look on Dutch’s face, however, gave her little hope of that happening.
“Get in the limo for a sec,” he said when she arrived at his side. “I want to talk to you.”
Sometimes Dutch spoke to her as if he was her father and boss all rolled into one, and this was one of those times, but she was never particularly bothered by that. He was eight years older than she was, and with a lifetime more experience. He was simply accustomed to being the man in charge.
Dutch, too, felt his age when Gina walked past Jade and Christian and got into the limo. Gina was almost thirty-seven years old, and therefore had nearly fourteen years on Jade, but she looked almost as youthful. Far youthful, Dutch thought, than he felt.
He handed Walt to Jade. “Take excellent care of your little brother,” he warned her. “And you look out for both of them, Chris.”
“I will, sir,” Christian assured him.
“You guys will reside at the White House the entire time we’re gone.”
“We know, Daddy,” Jade said, bouncing the chubby boy. “Don’t worry.”
“Loretta will remain here and be in overall charge, but I expect you two to give her all the assistance she needs.”
“You needn’t worry, sir,” Christian said with all sincerity. “We will look after him as if he was our very own. Because he is.”
Dutch smiled. Patted Christian on the arm. Then he kissed Walt again, enjoyed his joyous grin one more time, and then got into the limo with Gina, closing the door himself.
He sat across from Gina, but was leaned forward, his forearms resting on his muscular thighs. Gina glanced down at that rod she hadn’t had the pleasure of feeling inside of her in days, and then back into his eyes. They were troubled.
“I take it your intentions are still the same?”
She exhaled. “That’s right. I’ll meet with the governor, speak at the dinner, and then head to Japan.”
“What can I say to change your mind?”
“You can’t say anything. This is different. This isn’t like all of those other times. I feel I’m doing the right thing, Dutch.”
“I know you do,” Dutch said and then frowned. “And you probably are. He is, after all, your brother.” Then he looked at her. “But I’m your husband. And I’m very upset that you would do it anyway, despite my objections.”
Gina closed her eyes. Here we go, she thought. “I’m not purposely defying you,” she said as she opened her eyes.
“Yes, you are,” Dutch replied. “It’s absolutely purposely. And it’s a hurtful thing, Regina.”
Gina stared at him. The last person on the face of this earth she would want to hurt was him. If there was only another way. But there wasn’t.
Tears began to well up in her eyes. And almost immediately Dutch’s hard, troubled look softened.
He opened his arms to her. She hurried to him, sitting on his lap, allowing him to wrap his warm arms around her. And she sobbed in those arms. Dutch pressed the button that allowed the additional tint to cover all windows. It was specifically designed for the presidential fleet of limousines, including the iconic Beast, where it was impossible for those on the outside of the car to see inside at all.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Dutch,” Gina sobbed in his arms.
“I know you don’t, baby. I know you don’t.”
“But I am hurting you,” she said more as a fact, although she looked at him with a questioning look on her face.
Dutch wiped her tears away. “I’m a big boy,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about me.”
Gina smiled through her tears. “Thank-you,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with the meeting, does it?”
“I’m not okay with it, that’s right. I can’t be okay with it.”
She stared at him, traced, as Little Walt did, the small scratch on the side of his face. Then she kissed him on the lips. “Take care of yourself in that foreign land.”
“And the same goes for you,” he replied.
She kissed him again on his lips. A sweet, easy kiss. But as soon as Dutch took over the kissing duties, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy anymore. For their affection went from easy to passionate as soon as he took over.
When they finally stopped, and he leaned his forehead against hers, he smiled. “However,” he said, “that won’t do.”
Gina smiled too. “What won’t do?”
“That kiss.”
“Why won’t it do? It wasn’t good enough?”
“It was plenty good. Your kisses always are. But it won’t do.”
Gina stared at him. At first she thought she understood somewhat. And then she completely understood. “And what,” she asked, staring at the sensual turn of his Elvis lips, “will do?”
“Another kiss,” he said, kissing her on the neck. “In my favorite spot.”
Gina blushed to the roots of her hair. “You want to do that here?” she asked. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
Dutch looked at her. “To remind me of what I’ve missed these last few days.”
Gina smiled. And she really thought that same thought when he laid her down on the seat, slipped down her panties, and began kissing her between her legs. He had intended it to be a quick, one-off. Just a little taste. But when his tongue touched her silky womanhood, and he smelled that wonderful scent he missed, he couldn’t stop. He, in fact, didn’t stop kissing her, licking and sucking her, until she was arching her body into what was turning desperately close into a climax. He so wanted to slip out his rod and ram it into her, right in the throes of her climax, but that would have been shocking to even him.
But he couldn’t help himself. He did it anyway.
He pulled out his fully engorged penis and entered his wife right there, in that limo, and made passionate love to her again. If the car wasn’t so massive, it would have been rocking. Because Dutch and Gina rocked it out that morning
on the White House driveway.
He came quickly, as the supremely odd circumstance of their coupling dictated, but that final push-in, where his penis went down so far that his balls rammed against her, caused them both to shutter. They went up, as high as intensity would allow, and crashed back down. And they just remained where the lay, as if they were in their very own bed, far longer than either had intended.
And eventually, when she stepped out of the limo, nobody would be the wiser. Except for maybe LaLa, who knew Gina too well. But LaLa was, at the moment she stepped out, completely enthralled with her own man’s virility.
Crader, who was leaving for Japan with the president, gave LaLa a final goodbye kiss. Ever since the night they made out in the White House Residence, they’d been going at it like sex-starved rabbits. The idea of pushing their wedding day up was beginning to become a viable idea for them both, as Crader wanted to make her his wife desperately now. He could not possibly be any more sure of his desire to spend the rest of his life with LaLa than he was whenever he looked into her hopeful, almond-shaped eyes.
Then he tore away from her, got into the limo with the president, and waved as the motorcade took off.
Dutch leaned back when they exited the White House gate. His mind moving from Gina’s smoking body to Gina herself. They had a stop to make on Capitol Hill, a meeting with congressional Democrats, before making their way to Andrews Air Force Base to board Air Force One. But the idea of Gina getting herself entangled with some scheme they probably hadn’t even seen the likes of, still unnerved him.
“You okay?” Crader asked the president when he realized he was staring at him.
“Get Robert Rand on the phone,” Dutch ordered.
“Rand?”
“That’s right. And after that I want to speak with the Governor of Texas.”
Crader hesitated. “Sure about that?”
“I’m sure about that.”
Crader raised his eyebrows. He knew Gina was not going to be pleased. But if she was his wife he’d probably do the same thing.
“You’re the boss,” Crader said as he picked up the fancy car phone.
“He’ll be here any minute now,” Robert Rand said to Gina as she sat down in his hotel suite in Montreal. “Let me get you something to drink. You look marvelous, you know?”
Gina looked down, at her blue pants, chiffon blouse, and blue and white scarf. She didn’t feel marvelous, but she felt better. Although Dutch was still dead set against this meeting, he was back in her corner. And that was all that mattered to her.
Gina pulled out her makeup compact and lip gloss. “Do you really think Governor Feingold is open to being convinced?” she asked as she freshened up her lips.
“Oh, yes,” Robert said, pouring himself a drink. Gina’s drink, Chianti, was already poured and waiting, and spiked.
Robert smiled when he picked it up. It wasn’t the traditional date rape drug. Robert found that most date rape drugs, like GHB, like Rohypnol, could last for hours. That would not do. And it could take several minutes before it take full effect. That wouldn’t do, either. Ketamine was faster, but even that drug wasn’t fast enough for Robert. He needed one made to order, with instant debilitation, quick recovery, and total memory loss. And he found it. In Hong Kong. Tested it on some of his unsuspecting, but substantially lesser known subjects, and it worked. He was, in fact, confident in it.
He had fifteen minutes. That was all. Fifteen minutes to take the pictures before she regained consciousness. And he was already beginning to sweat.
“If you knew Feingold you’d agree with me,” he said. “He’d do anything for money.”
Gina sighed. That was the problem. That was why Dutch was against this whole thing, the fact that the governor would eventually get paid. Gina didn’t like that particular part, either, but she couldn’t concentrate on that.
Robert handed her the spiked drink. “Here you are, princess,” he said as she accepted it.
And the clock was ticking. He wanted to get her ready, take the pictures, and get her back dressed and normal within that fifteen minute window. According to the good doctor, the potency was super-potent, but the wear-off was as sudden as the onset. And the onset, Robert quickly noticed, was almost immediate.
After replacing her compact and lip gloss back into her clutch bag, Gina took one sip of her drink. In less than a minute of Robert’s non-stop talking, her head lobbed to the side, and she was out cold.
And Robert got busy. He had to get in, get out. Precision all the way.
He lifted her into his arms and hurried to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and undressed her quickly, leaving on only her high heeled shoes. He needed an assistant, but the Secret Service had conducted a sweep of the room and he didn’t want anybody else for them to have to screen. And besides, the last thing he needed was to have another person in on this. He was leaving nothing to chance.
When he had undressed her, and she was lying naked on his bed, he began undressing too. But his eyes couldn’t leave the sight of her. So this was it, he thought as he undressed. This was that precious piece of black meat Dutch was screwing every night when they were at his home in the Caribbean. And as he looked at her, at her brown breasts and her flat brown stomach, at her brown womanhood and her toned brown legs, his hard-on was so engorged that he almost ejaculated prematurely. He caught himself and removed the last of his clothing.
He pressed the buttons on the cameras that were strategically placed around the room; cameras that looked like your garden variety, expensive wrist watches. The Secret Service did a cursory search of his bedroom, glanced at his jewelry, but was so convinced the First Lady would come nowhere near the bedroom area that they focused more on ensuring no one else was in the room, rather than what was in the room itself. They were too familiar with billionaire industrialist Robert Rand, anyway, especially after spending that entire week on his island in the Caribbean with the First Family, to ever suspect him of any wrongdoing.
They’d never admit it, however. The Secret Service, after all, was trained to view everybody as suspicious. But Robert knew that was baloney. Because if they took that training as seriously as they should have, they would have bothered to check the nice little watches that sat so innocently around the room. Watches that so easily converted into cameras.
Robert sat the cameras to automatic snapshots, and now, three minutes into this journey, everything was ready.
He got on top of Gina’s body. She smelled so sweet and fresh, a smell he wondered if Dutch knew by hard. He posed in various risqué poses all along Gina’s body. There were snapshots taken of his naked body on top of hers. His tongue licking her clit. His mouth on her breasts. Her hand on his penis. His penis poised to enter her vagina raw. But the more he posed, and the more the four cameras took snapshots from all angles, the more his hard-on became unbearable.
He reached across her body, grabbed a condom from inside the nightstand, and slipped it on quickly. And in the guise of getting one penetration shot, just one, he slipped his engorged penis inside of Gina Harber.
Gina was still out cold, and there remained only seven minutes before she was expected to regain consciousness. Seven short minutes. Yet Robert couldn’t resist. He had to know what it felt like. He had to know what was it about this black bitch that would cause the great Dutch Harber to give up his legendary bachelor existence.
So he found out.
He fucked the president’s wife.
It felt ordinary at first. Just another fuck. Until he moved in further and further, the snapshots still clicking and clicking, and his control broke. There was something magical about her the further he moved in. Something so intense. And he started screwing her now, careful not to harm her, careful not to bruise her. And he came, in less than two minutes from his initial penetration, he poured into his condom. Within two measly minutes. A problem he’d had all of his adult life.
A part of him was ecstatic. He had just fucked Dutch Harber’s wife!
How do you like that? But another part of him, perhaps the bigger part, was terrified. What would Dutch Harber do, he wondered, if he were to walk into this bedroom at this very moment, and saw his penis inside of his wife?
But regardless, Robert knew his need to fuck her was a big-time blunder. Because now he had only five minutes left. Five short minutes. He hurried out of bed, ran to the bathroom, grabbed the wash cloth and liquid solution, and poured it around the lip and folds of her vagina. He wiped her clean with the precision he had practiced with his previous, preliminary dates. The smell was eliminated, any juices were eliminated, any feeling of tightness or penetration were supposed to be eliminated. But it required very careful and precise wiping, time-consuming wiping, that ate up an additional two minutes.
Then he had to dress her. And quickly. He threw on her panties and pants first. Then her blouse without buttoning it. And then he had to dress himself, which he did within seconds. And afterwards, without skipping a beat, he lifted her, hurrying with her to the livingroom, buttoning her blouse as he carried her. He sat her back on the sofa, in the same position he had picked her up from, pulled out his cell phone, and pretended to be talking to Governor Feingold. There were only forty-eight seconds left before she was slated to come to again.
But Robert’s cursory looked turned up a problem. The glass of wine that was spiked with tailor-made date rape drug was still in front of her. With less than forty seconds remaining, he panicked but moved quickly, grabbing the glass, running for the bar, grabbing the non-spiked glass of Chianti and sitting it in front of her just as she was beginning to regain consciousness.
“Okay,” he was saying into his phone, attempting to regulate his breathing, as Gina opened her eyes. And as that doctor in Hong Kong had assured him, that date rape pill with the extra potency, began to wear off, leaving Gina with nothing more than the memory of her last, conscious moment.
“Well I’m very sorry to hear that,” Robert was saying as she came to. “It’s very disappointing to tell you the truth. But it can’t be helped. Okay. All right, buddy, see you soon. Okay. Bye.”
Dutch and Gina: The Power of Love Page 15
