Thomas
Oh fuck, what have I done? Because I never actually come in the girls’ pussies. You can’t be too careful these days. The Secret Service does the background check, and sure, the females are clean. But there wasn’t time to ascertain whether or not Susie was on the pill, so I resolved to have some consensual fun without actually coming in her sweetest spot.
But that’s the thing. I underestimated the beautiful brunette because once she got naked and started showing me her holes, I couldn’t resist. I had to have her, and fuck! But she felt so good. That pussy was insanely tight, and I could barely get my cock into that tiny twat. But once I was in, there was no stopping, no way, no how. I pumped that beautiful body up and down my shaft, balls high and tight and ready to shoot.
And shoot I did. The first spray came and I blasted the beautiful female as she moaned luxuriously, her cunt flexing and spasming while sucking my sperm deep inside. But oh shit! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. So moving quickly, I pulled her off my dick before pushing down on the small of her back so that her anus was available.
And no, this wasn’t some deep backdoor action with no prep. Instead, I just put the tip of my penis right at her rim and let myself go there. Because that’s always my out. If I lose control, I can blast into their bottoms, and it’s no sweat. No one’s getting pregnant, and both parties are safe.
Except with Susie, it didn’t exactly turn out that way. After we were done, she sat up once more, her skin moist and glistening, big boobs still heaving with pleasure.
“Mmm,” she murmured, shooting a sly smile over one shoulder. “That was good.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” I rumbled, lightly tapping her anus with my spent dick. A couple more drops fell out and I swear, but the deep brown sucked it in, desperate for my man milk.
And Susie did me one better. Leaning forwards again, she balanced her shoulders on my knees while reaching back to part her buttocks.
“See?” she said coyly. “I have you dripping from both holes now.”
And fuck, but it was true. Creamy white jizz oozed from both her ass and her vag, and shit, but all I wanted to do was to lick it up. I wanted to eat her cream pies, tasting where my sperm had been. But that’s the thing. Time was almost up. Her two hours was just about done, and I needed to get the girl ready to go. So reluctantly, I stroked her back door a bit, rubbing her pleats as the girl’s eyes dropped shut once more, a moan escaping her lips.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but it’s time to go. You ready?”
Of course she wasn’t. The female was nude except for a pair of stilettos, creaming and moaning in my lap as I massaged her anus. But that’s the thing about professionals. They know when the session’s over, and slowly, she levered herself up, body still flushed and trembling.
“I’m ready,” Susie breathed. “Just give me a sec.”
And within two minutes, the girl was wrapped up in her trench coat once more, those creamy curves covered. It was a shame. I’ve known a couple of working girls, and Susie was by far the best. She had tight holes, not to mention a particularly slutty way about her that made my balls ache. But again, business is business, so I patted her bottom while pressing a kiss to one flushed cheek.
“I’ll see you again, yeah?” was my low rumble. “Stay tuned, sweetheart. We’re not done yet.”
And with that, the girl was gone in a flash, my apartment restored to its normal state except for the cum stain on the couch and the sense of overwhelming satisfaction pouring through my body. Oh yeah, she’d helped me relax and I’ll pay good money for that kind of stuff. But the thing is that Susie is a dancer, so what kind of future lay before us? Probably nothing, to be honest. The American people would never accept a woman who took off her clothes for a living as my girlfriend, much less my wife. So I resolved to put the curvy woman out of my mind. Except that despite my best efforts, she’s still here with me … ruling my dreams each night with that sweet smile and low, throaty laugh.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Susie
I wasn’t sure what to think, to be honest. I looked down at the magazine in my hands with Thomas’s face on the cover. Will He or Won’t He? the title read. Behind President Burke’s decision to face off with China in the trade wars …
And those words pretty much summed up the difference between us. Because he was the Commander-in-Chief, the captain of a trillion dollar economy. He was making decisions that impacted international politics, relations, and economies, not to mention a bevy of domestic disputes ranging from economic inequality to the rise and dominance of tech giants. So what the hell was I doing? And what did I have to offer?
The sad truth was nothing. I’m just a librarian at a small alternative school in New York, in charge of getting things shelved exactly right. I didn’t even have a fancy title like “VP of Acquisitions” or “Assistant VP of Circulation.” I was just plain old staff.
Even more to the point, I moonlighted as a feature dancer at the Pink Flamingo, which again, isn’t exactly the cream of the crop when it comes to gentlemen’s clubs. So it was kind of like pairing Zeus with a lowly serf from Ancient Greece. We couldn’t even be compared. Thomas Burke was the king of the heavens, whereas I was just a nobody, nameless and faceless making my way among the crowd.
And yet, our encounter had been amazing. We’d made love yes, but there was also talk that was at once humorous and witty.
“So what’s up with your stage name?” he’d asked, relaxing in the aftermath of our physical session. A smile quirked those lips as he took another sip of whiskey. “Don’t most girls have stage names like Candy and Tigresse?”
I blushed a little.
“Yeah, Pearl was kind of a last-minute thing,” I admitted. “I didn’t know what to say when they asked me my stage name, so I blurted out pearl because I was wearing a pearl bracelet. It’s lame, I know,” came my blush.
But the Commander-in-Chief didn’t think it was dumb. He merely stroked my boobie again, watching with satisfaction as the nipple pebbled.
“Pearl’s a beautiful name,” he growled in my ear as I sat in his lap. “But what’s with your last name? Evanescence? That’s damn hard to spell and wouldn’t something short and sweet be the way to go?”
This one was harder to explain.
“It would, but I wanted something to set me apart. So many girls have names like Nikki Sexxx or Jane May to keep things easy. I wanted something different, that no one would copy. Not that anyone would copy me,” came my hurried words. “But I thought that “Evanescence” was nice.”
He nodded thoughtfully, just thinking.
“Is there a reason for Evanescence in particular?” he asked. “I mean, are you expecting something to disappear?”
I swallowed before shooting him a weak smile.
“I guess I just didn’t want to fade,” was my quiet admission. “Evanescence means something that’s soon going to vanish, fade, or disappear, and I didn’t want that to be me. So I chose this as my last name.”
He grinned at me.
“I love human nature because sweetheart, you actually want the opposite meaning,” he drawled. “Something like Pearl Forever or Pearl Concrete.”
“Oh you,” I squealed, swatting him lightly with a small palm. “But yes, I guess so. I want to have some staying power, you know? I mean, I never meant to be a dancer. I never meant to take off my clothes in front of men. It just so happened that I was desperate for money to pay my rent, and one thing led to another. And pretty soon, I was the feature act on Tuesday nights, and now … well, you know how it turned out.”
The President was silent for a moment, holding my curvy form close as we relaxed on the couch.
“Yeah, I get it,” he growled finally. “Believe it or not, it was never my dream to be president either. It was something that I decided to do on a whim. You know my real job is my real estate empire, and I kind of decided to run just to throw cake in the establishment’s face.”
I n
odded.
“Yes, I heard,” were my quiet words. “Do you regret it? I mean, who would regret being President?” was my quick qualifier. But I couldn’t resist, because this was a question that had piqued the nation’s curiosity. “But do you, sir?” I asked with searching eyes. “Do you regret becoming President?”
And he was quiet for a moment because it’s a tough question to answer. On the one hand, he held all the power in the world. Every door was open to him, from secret meetings in the Seychelles to above-board conferences with the Pope. But the question I’d asked was different. Did he enjoy it? Was this what he anticipated? And even more important, did he wish things had turned out differently?
Thomas sighed, eyes off in the distance.
“I’m not sure, pretty girl,” was his slow answer. “You know, I never expected to win,” he said with a wry grin. “I figured it was publicity for my real estate empire, a way to get my name into the national consciousness without too much advertising. But things just caught steam. I hit a vein with the American electorate, and a lot of people liked what I was saying. So one thing led to another, and believe you me, sweetheart, I was just as surprised as anyone when they declared the winner on election night.”
I scrunched my brow at him.
“Yeah, it was a little strange, wasn’t it?” I asked quietly. “Every poll had you down by at least twenty points, but I remember looking up the results at around eleven fifty-five and you were ahead. So you weren’t expecting that, either?”
His expression was faraway, but then he turned to look at me, blue eyes filled with something unreadable.
“Nope, I believed the polls too. My win was a shock because who knew that the papers and the supposed “experts” could be so far off? If you ask me, there are a lot of folks in that business who deserve to lose their jobs. But hey, what happened is what happened, and I, more than anyone else, believe in the United States. I want to make this nation great once more, and to raise us up from the mire that’s trapped us underneath layers of discord.”
He lost me a little there, but I smiled again.
“I know you can do it,” were my quiet words. “You’re capable and smart, sir. But … I mean, you pretty much gave up your old life to take up the reins in the White House, and it sounds like it hasn’t been easy?” were my slow words. “So I guess I’ll ask again. Do you regret it, sir? Do you wish you’d stayed in New York?”
Thomas let out another sigh, expression thoughtful before turning to me with a smile.
“Who knew I’d have this conversation with a dancer?” he asked in a light-hearted voice. “You aren’t a reporter planning to do an exposé, are you?” he teased. “But no, seriously. The answer is that I kind of do regret winning the race, believe it or not. I miss the city. I don’t like the Beltway. I miss running my business because it’s the only thing I’ve known since I was fifteen or so and went to work for my dad. So yeah, I guess if there were any way to rewind time, I’d re-think things and maybe stay off the ticket. But then again, there’s no way to do that, so we are where we are,” he growled again, nuzzling my neck. “Is that a terrible thing to say?”
I was still, merely absorbing his words. Because I’d just heard the President admit that he didn’t like his job, and if he could do things differently, he would. He’d stay with his business instead of ascending to the highest levels of politics. And the truth was, I didn’t blame him. Sometimes things just happen without you really expecting it, and then they snowball and snowball until you’re in almost in a different universe. Look at me with the Pink Flamingo after all. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, and now I was dancing every Tuesday and Thursday night. So I could understand.
I shot a shy smile at him then.
“No, it’s okay,” were my soft words. “I totally understand. I wasn’t supposed to be a stripper either, but things just kind of got out of hand,” I said with a wry shrug. “One thing led to another, and pretty soon, like you said, here we are. But also like you said, what’s happened has happened, and there’s no way to turn back the clock.”
The President and I were silent for a little while after that, merely enjoying our closeness as well as the intimate conversation. Who would have guessed these things about the most powerful man on Earth? But somehow, I wasn’t surprised and truly treasured that he’d admitted to me what was in his innermost heart.
But all things have to end, and soon the clock struck nine. President Burke nibbled at my ear teasingly.
“It’s time for you to go,” came his hot breath. “But when can I see you again?”
I giggled a little, enjoying our exchange.
“The next time you’re in town,” I promised. “Just give me a call. We’ll make it work somehow.”
And with a smile, I was gone, the elevator whooshing me back downstairs to the waiting car. I stared out the window as the city rolled by, but my eyes saw nothing because only Thomas ruled my mind. He was more than a client. He was more than a man in need of release. He was truly alpha, with a keen, discerning mind, and feelings just like any other person. There were things he regretted, and things that he would do again. And yet, like all human beings, you sometimes just have to do the best with what you have at hand.
So my heart and mind full, I went to bed that night and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Thomas Burke was my proverbial knight in shining armor, but where would we go from here? Was a future possible for the lowly serving girl and her Prince Charming? All I knew was that I felt something for the charismatic man … and only hoped that he felt something for me in return.
CHAPTER NINE
Thomas
Two months later …
Shit has been pretty terrible with things blowing up left and right. Gun violence at high schools. ISIS going fucking crazy. The Russians tampering with American social media, and god forbid, American politics. Sometimes, the truth will set you free, but what was the truth here? I had no idea what to believe, even with the best intel and advisers on hand.
“Are you ready, Sir?” asked my assistant Daniel, popping his head into the Oval Office. “Car’s waiting outside.”
The truth was that I was about ready to quit this job. Can I do that? Is it possible to step down without giving a reason? I couldn’t exactly say to the American people, “This job sucks shit and is pretty frickin’ thankless to boot.” Because everyone thinks that being President is my life’s dream, but as I admitted to Susie, that wasn’t the truth.
Which brings me to a larger issue. That night with Pearl should have ended immediately, and it did in the physical sense. I haven’t seen or heard from her in the last two months, and yet I think of the woman day in and day out. How she pulled confidences from me, things that I would never say to my friends or family, much less in public. How there was a weird parallel between our situations, her ending up at the Pink Flamingo and me in the White House. It’s sounds ludicrous, but it’s true. Shit just snowballed, and we both ended up in unexpected places, regretting our decision somewhat.
But life is what it is. I haven’t had time to contact her again, what with my busy schedule. And now it was time for the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, an annual ritual where the President cracks jokes and lets down his guard in front of a bunch of reporters. Yeah, right. Those folks are snakes and I didn’t exactly want to play along. But then again, sometimes there’s no way to say no, even for me, Mr. Commander-in-Chief.
So in a bad mood, I got into the limo that whisked me down the Beltway to the Marriott. Good god. Another rubber chicken dinner with people in finery, topped off with stilted conversation and old ladies in glittery gowns. Exactly where I didn’t want to be. What I really wanted was to spend time with Susie once more, the curvy girl naked and panting in my lap before kissing her until she ran out of breath.
But real life is stark, and I was on my way to make a speech about who knows what before people that I didn’t really like. FML. Rifling slowly through the notecards, I looked at the speech D
aniel had written. Something about collaboration, cohesiveness, and co-something or other. All the buzzwords, right here and ready for the teleprompter. Great.
Leaning back, I looked out the window. What was Susie doing right now? It was Thursday, so she’d probably be going on stage soon. Ha. I didn’t mind, to be honest. I love a woman who owns her curves, and wasn’t going to hold dancing against a female so beautiful and enticing. What I’d give to be at the Flaming right now, waiting for the female to appear. Shit. It only made my mood worse, realizing that I was pretty much attending the opposite of the Tasty Thursday at the Flamingo. Fuck my life again.
And finally, we rolled up to the venue.
“Sir,” said the Secret Service guy in the seat beside me. Honestly, I’m still not used to them, and will never be used to the security detail, what with their unsmiling faces and unwavering focus on threat. Lighten up, dudes. But I guess that’s their job.
And with a smile and a wave, I got out of the car, all business. Bulbs popped, the flash blinding me for a moment. But like a veteran, I moved on forwards, striding confidently into the building. An old lady rushed over, wearing a ball gown studded with millions of shiny beads. Oh, it was Helen Monroe, who always asks the first question during press conferences.
“Hello Helen!” was my jovial greeting. The old woman leered in a malicious manner.
“Nice to see you, Mr. President,” she cackled. “Hope you brought your sense of humor.”
Oh god. It was gonna be bad tonight because obviously, no one was in the mood for civility. Fuck my life times three. Plus, there was the usual crowd of hangers-on and a scrum to push my way through.
“Mr. President!” the dude representing Al Jazeera called. “What’s your rationale behind moving the embassy?”
He was shut down by Daniel.
“We won’t be discussing that,” interrupted my aide. “The President is here to enjoy himself tonight, and we hope you will too,” he said with a pointed look.
The President and the Starlet: A Forbidden Romance Page 6
