by Claire Adams
“I understand that, sir,” I said, smiling into the phone. “We would just really appreciate your support in this next election. Please remember. You have three children, and the president aims to completely recalibrate the education in this country. Please consider that you could be changing the lives of both your children and of millions of children, all over the world.”
The man thought on the other line for a moment. I knew that my words were strong, that they’d already convinced him. He sighed. “Yes. Okay. Put me down for one million,” he said gruffly. It was still early, there. I knew to catch him then—at 7 or 8 to our 10 or 11 in the morning. I was bright-eyed, even as he mumbled through his words.
“Thank you, sir. The president appreciates your service to the country,” I said—my normal phrase. I pumped my hand into the air, alerting the rest of the campaign team that I’d snagged one million dollars—no small sum in terms of campaign work.
I slammed the phone down, and everyone in the room cheered for me. I stood up and bowed to them—a bit silly, sure. They laughed, knowing that I was the only person they could trust to lead them to victory. On the other side of the room, Jason sat at his desk once more. He didn’t cheer. He didn’t even look up. I had no clear idea of what he was working on, truly. I wasn’t sure if the president had trusted him with anything after their previous meeting. Maybe he had a crossword puzzle?
Suddenly, the phone started ringing once more. I recognized the number immediately. “Hello, sir,” I answered, my voice lined with a hint of sensuality—something I knew the people around me couldn’t detect.
“Amanda. Could I see you in the Oval Office, please?” Xavier asked. He was nearly laughing. “I just saw one million signed onto the donation account. Good work.”
“Just a little thing we here in the campaign offices call ‘commitment,’ sir,” I laughed, teasing and flirting with him. “I’ll be right there.”
I tapped down the hallway, feeling light as air. It seemed that so much had fallen off my shoulders in the previous day. It was incredible. I knocked on the Oval Office door, and a Secret Service agent opened the door before leaving the office himself. He left Xavier and I alone in the well-lit, luxurious office. I brought my hands over my flat stomach and peered toward him, a bit of laughter on my cheeks.
“Hello, Amanda,” he said. “Please. Sit down.” He gestured with his strong, stoic arm toward the chair before his desk.
I leaned down, smiling at him in such a girlish way. I couldn’t stop myself.
Xavier brought his fingers together, lacing them. “I’d like to talk to you about Jason,” he said finally. His words were deep.
I nodded. “I noticed he disappeared yesterday,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Right. I told him to take the day to compose himself, to come back today fully ready to proceed with the campaign.” Xavier leaned forward in his chair and he tapped at the desk before me with his firm fingers. “Listen, Amanda. He won’t be bothering you anymore. Right now, I have three Secret Service agents—who are specifically trained in security—searching through your apartment to find the hidden cameras. If it’s there, they’ll find it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking about my apartment once more. My lonely, luxurious apartment. I swallowed. “Thank you, Xavier. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened yesterday during your meeting with—with Jason?” I remembered Jason’s face, so splotched with red, so withdrawn.
Xavier turned his head toward his desk. He paused before answering. “I am simply a very persuasive person, Amanda. You have to know that about me by now.”
I bit my lip. “You didn’t persuade me to do anything,” I told him, my voice stern.
“Well. You’re different from everyone else,” Xavier said, laughing. “Essentially, Jason didn’t want you to tell me anything about the photographs because he knew I could shut him down instantly, like that.” He snapped his fingers with such efficiency. “He knows that I’m a powerful force, someone who can ruin him.”
I swallowed, trying to imagine the conversation. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him that if he wanted to continue his political work at the White House—in any fucking capacity—then he had to forget about the photographs. He had to forget entirely about the affair, about blackmailing you, about all of it. If he didn’t want his entire life to be ruined—and to rot in jail for many, many decades—then he had to turn in the USB. He had to sign an affidavit declaring that these were the only copies of the photographs he had.” Xavier cleared his throat. “He seemed—generally upset. If you saw him yesterday, he went a bit crazy when he learned that I knew about his blackmailing. He started smacking his face, tugging at his shirt. He started having a sort of panic attack. He’s not strong, mentally. Not like you.”
I blushed, feeling entirely content in that moment. I couldn’t believe it had all worked out—that Xavier had threatened Jason with such force. I brimmed with rays of happiness. “So. It’s over?” I whispered.
Xavier nodded, bringing his hands out before him. “It appears to be over. It seems that you’re free of this terror. You can return to your home, to your life without fear.”
I felt a single tear stride down my cheek. I stood up, suddenly, and twirled to the other side of the desk. I flung my arms around Xavier, feeling his beating heart just a few layers of cloth beyond my own. I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you, Xavier.” My salty tears met with his face.
He laughed for a moment, allowing me to pull back from him. He rubbed at my back, at my thin waist. He shook his head. “It was my pleasure.”
I twirled a bit in his arms, sending him flirty looks. “Does this mean we’re in the clear?” I whispered to him. “I mean. Jason knows to stay away. Even your wife knows about us. We can—we can be with each other, in this sort of soft secret, for as long as we like?”
He nodded, smiling. “Baby. We can do whatever we like, now.”
I laughed and kissed him deeply in that moment. I felt the warmth emanating from his body, from his mind. He allowed me to sit on his lap, rubbing at his tense shoulders. He peered up at me, blinking his big, black eyes. “You don’t want to celebrate tonight, do you?”
I thought for a moment, picking a piece of lint from Xavier’s suit—as I’d seen Camille do, just a few days before. It was my privilege, then. Our intimacy was great. “I’d love to celebrate.”
“Good. Good,” Xavier answered. “Camille’s gone for the day, and we can have the whole place to ourselves. A few more hours of work. And we’ll meet back here.” He gestured around his office.
I kissed him once more before fleeing from his office, a sense of excitement, of zeal coursing through me. Every limb on my body felt so fluid, so light. “In a few hours, Mr. President,” I whispered to him before rushing from the Oval Office and back toward my office.
At my desk for the rest of the day, I peered around the room, unable to believe what was happening—and fully allowing the happiness of the moment to glide over me, unaffected by anything else. I knew that this daydream-y state was a fully-formed version of love. I’d heard about it, read about it. Certainly. But I had never experienced it so strongly. I heard a woman in the corner whisper to her friend. “God, Amanda looks happy. She looks like I did after Jeffrey and I banged the other day.”
“I hope she’s getting some,” the other friend said. “She’s hot. She deserves it.”
I laughed, loving these words as they swept toward me. So strange, to hear yourself spoken about. So strange to be a leader of an entire campaign trail—with a great year ahead of you. However, I was up to the task. I was the appropriate person for the position. I would yield incredible strategies to ramp up votes, to maintain Xavier’s stance in the Oval Office. He was My President. And thus, I would keep him where he belonged.
After several hours, people began to peter out from the building, gliding back to their sad, dismal Washington D.C. apartments in this late October. Half-heartedly, I reali
zed that it was nearly Halloween. I waved goodbye to several of the younger staff members, each of them nearly skipping out into the world. They weren’t made for this schedule yet; their youth and vitality hadn’t been burned from them as readily. Not yet. I hoped it never would.
Finally, I was the only one in the grey office. Even Jason had gone, dragging his feet down the hallway and allowing his briefcase to bounce against his legs.
I stood and walked toward the Oval, unbuttoning my blazer as I went. I tossed it onto the white couch in the Oval Office, standing in just my sheer, white button-up and my tight, grey skirt. Before me, the president smiled up at me, a pen in his hand. He signed his signature jauntily, and then he burst from the shackles of his desk. He brought his hand around my back and met his lips with mine, bending me back lightly for a passionate kiss in the dying light of the late October day. “Shall we?” he whispered.
I followed him down the hall, our hands nearly touching. The White House hallways were completely empty, giving me an eerie feeling in my gut. But soon, we had arrived at the White House movie theater. He led me to the front row, setting me up comfortably in a long, leaning chair. He held a finger up to his lips, alerting me that he’d be gone for just a moment. He appeared back with a large bowl of popcorn, with two glasses of wine. I held my hand open and accepted the wine. We clinked the glasses together. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment completely.
“What is it?” he asked me.
I blinked my eyes open in a moment, my eyelids so lazy. “Baby. I’m just so happy,” I murmured.
I laughed and brought his arm around me, cuddling me in the great White House theater chairs. Before us, the cinematic magic began. Key Largo, one of the old classics. Humphrey Bogart spoke gruffly on scene, his eyes dark and calculating. I brought my body closer and closer toward Xavier, feeling like we were one, there in that theater—that anything that ever came up against us would ultimately falter. We were far too strong, and we’d been through too much already.
In the middle of the movie, it cut to intermission. The lights were brought up a bit, bringing us up from our comfortable positions in our chairs.
I swallowed, tapping my empty glass of wine on the table before us. “What do you think so far?” I murmured, my eyes heavy. My body had begun to think only of Xavier beside me. I wanted him; I wanted to feel his arms around me.
Xavier looked at me, his eyes brimming with sensuality. “To be honest. I can’t think about the movie. I can’t think about anything but you.” His breath came hesitantly. And suddenly, he placed his hand around my head, bringing his lips toward mine. I felt so safe in this moment, held so tightly by the president. I allowed his lips to meet mine. In a spark of electricity, of zeal, we began to kiss passionately. I pushed my body toward his, bringing my breasts hard into his chest. He caught his other hand around my body, brimming around my ass. My pussy began to pulse, wanting his cock deep inside me.
Xavier broke away from the kiss for a moment, blinking around him. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.
I nodded, smiling a bit. “Where do you want to go?”
“The White House has many spectacular rooms,” Xavier murmured, kissing my cheek, my nose. “I have one all set up for us. You’ve heard of the Lincoln bedroom?”
My breath caught in my throat. Of course I’d heard of the Lincoln bedroom. It was the bedroom in which important people stayed when they visited the White House—the bedroom kept supreme, beautiful for fine guests. I swallowed, unsure of what to say.
“Come on,” Xavier whispered, sensing my joy. He brought my hand into his, and he led me down the hall. We swept down the curling staircases, laughing together and feeling this uproarious sense of happiness, of zeal.
He opened the Lincoln bedroom then, and revealed the marvelous, gold-laid and beautifully decorated room. I brought my hands to my mouth, staring at this portion of history—this stunning room that seemed to tell a story about the many hundreds of years of history—history that I knew Xavier and I would be a part of, someday. I lurched around to find Xavier closing the door, pushing at a small cart. In the cart was a chilling bottle of champagne and two champagne glasses.
“Shall we have a toast?” he asked me. He brought the champagne into the air, eyeing the label. “It’s a 1980 bottle. Amazing what they keep around here,” he said, winking at me. He removed the fine wrapping from the top and allowed the cork to pop—high—into the air in the Lincoln bedroom. The noise emanated throughout the room. I clapped my hands, laughing, allowing my teeth to cut out from my mouth.
He poured the champagne, and we clinked glasses, our eyes linked. In that moment, I felt that we were officially one. The bubbles coursed down my throat, to my stomach. I closed my eyes. In that moment, I felt Xavier’s mouth over mine once more. The surprise made my heart race. I set the champagne on the bedside table, and I allowed him to lay me down on the bed, kissing over me, rolling his tongue over mine. I sighed deeply.
He began to unbutton my shirt then. My bra gleamed beneath, and he ran his fingers through the top, making my nipples pop from beneath. They were so brown, so secret beneath the white.
He pulled my skirt from my body, followed by my tights. I lay, splayed out, naked and thin on the sheets. My brunette hair curled around my shoulders. He stood before me, looking down at my body. He reached for his champagne glass and sipped at it, studying me. “You should show me,” he whispered then.
“Show you what?” I asked.
“How you pleasure yourself.”
My eyes grew bright. I brought my hands toward my hot, dripping pussy. I felt myself, how ready I was for him. God, I wanted him. As soon as I touched my clit, my brain began to open, to make me feel like an animal—an animal with needs, with desires. I sighed as I began to rub at myself, closing my eyes.
“Yeah, baby. I like watching you touch yourself,” Xavier murmured. He set his champagne glass back down, and he laid beside me, bringing his tongue around and around my nipple as I continued to touch myself. He removed his pulsing cock from his pants then. He remained in his presidential suit and tie, but his huge, brimming cock was out, ready to take me.
I sighed as I continued to rub myself, feeling myself. And he rolled me over, bringing his dick into my hot pussy from behind. I called out, loudly, as he entered me. I reached up and grabbed my tits, feeling the passion of the moment course through me. I felt like I was on display, being the only naked one in the room—like it was all about me, about my body, about my pussy, about my great breasts. “Yeah, baby,” I murmured. “Harder. Yeah.”
“You like that? You like when I fuck you like this?” Xavier murmured in my ear from behind.
I brought myself up on my four limbs, allowing him to mount me, doggy style. All the while, I felt like I was going crazy as his dick dipped further and further into me, forcing my eyes closed. “Yes.” I felt an initial orgasm shudder through me. I fell onto the bed, blasting at my breasts and feeling as my pussy pulsed around his dick, feeling like the orgasm was going to be the end of my life, the end of everything. And that was okay.
After a few moments, I opened my eyes. I spun around, groggy-eyed, still feeling the pleasure course through me. I brought my fingers up, toward his buttons, and began to forcefully remove his taut, muscled body from his presidential gear. “Get naked for me, Mr. President,” I whispered in his ear. I placed my hand on his cock, stroking it, making it hard once more. “Come on, Mr. President.”
He helped me remove his clothes hurriedly, dropping his pants to the ground. I was beneath him then. I placed my hands over his taut chest, feeling his heart beating so fast. I shook my head, allowing my eyes to falter as he thrust his dick back into me once more. “God. You feel so good,” I murmured.
He brought his mouth around my nipples, thrusting, holding my body close to his. It felt like, there on the Lincoln bed, we were one person, one organism. We were united. His eyes dipped into mine; the eye contact was almost too much for me to bear. I felt like
I could see into his soul.
Suddenly, he ripped me from the bed, holding me tightly against him so that our bodies didn’t come apart. He pushed me against the wall and began thrusting himself into me, so powerfully, so strongly, that we couldn’t separate. Not even for a moment. I allowed my nail to dip into his back; I allowed my voice to call out over the room. “Yeah. Fuck me harder,” I called to him. “Harder!”
His eyes peered up at me, so lost and yet so sure. “Baby. I’m ready to cum. I’m going to cum.”
I placed my hands on either side of his face, feeling the dark, clustered hair on his cheeks. “Cum for me, baby. It’s just us, now. It’s just us.”
He closed his eyes, then, as he held me poised, up against the wall. I felt as his dick pulsed into me; I felt as the pulsing penetration of his cock pushed my body into another orgasm. I closed my eyes, feeling my brain grow crazy as I rode the amazing waves rollicking in my stomach, through my eyes. I gasped, clutching his neck so tightly. After many lost, rolling moments, we were finished, together.
Xavier brought me back to the bed. He tucked me into the covers. I watched his careful movements through my half-open, fatigued eyes. He tucked his body in beside mine, and he brought his arm around my neck, allowing me to come closer to his naked, steaming body. Our legs were entwined.
“That was beautiful,” I whispered, my eyes gleaming up toward him.
Xavier nodded, kissing my forehead. I could tell he was about to fall asleep, that I was losing him. I had to act fast. I had to tell him my last piece, rather than allowing it to die at our feet, never to be spoken of (and resulting in problems down the line).
“Baby,” I began. He turned toward me, his face open to whatever I had to say. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I want this relationship to bloom, to grow.”
Xavier nodded, kissing my cheek. “Me, too.”
My mind tried to calculate what I should say next. I cleared my throat. “If this is going to grow appropriately, then we need to work out a schedule. We need to care for this relationship, like people care for animals, for plants, for jobs. We need to treat this relationship appropriately. Otherwise, it could falter.”
