Yes, Mr President

by Jean-Luc Cheri

  When the waitress returned, she was smiling mischievously at me. “I noticed Jamie was here.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

  “He’s definitely easy on the eyes.”

  “I think he likes you.”

  “Along with every other girl on the planet.”

  She laughed, but shook her head. “No, I think he really likes you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She got a look like she wanted to say something, but was reluctant. Her eyes shifted around conspiratorially, and then she said, “If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell him I told you?”

  I looked at her curiously. “Sure.”

  “Well, it wasn’t a coincidence he came here tonight.”

  “He told me he was here to pick up his paycheck.”

  “Nope. He came here because I called him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her voice lowered. “He asked me to telephone him if you came in.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. He pointed you out to me yesterday, and told me that if you ever came in while he wasn’t here, I should call him on his cell phone. He’s never done that with any other girl. So yeah, I think he really likes you.” She was smiling.

  “He did that?”

  “Yes. Isn’t it romantic? Are you and him going to get together?”

  “Not likely.”

  She seemed surprised. “Why? I wouldn’t pass up a chance to be with him.”

  “He’s all yours. You’re very pretty. I’m sure he can fit you into his busy schedule.”

  “I tried. He shot me down.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “Sad, but true.”

  I looked at her curiously. Something about this wasn’t making sense. Perhaps there was more to this guy than I was giving him credit for.

  “You won’t tell him I told you, will you?”

  “It’s our little secret.”

  Chapter 8

  When I left the café it was nine o’clock. Doing the calculations, I figured the earliest my father would get here would be eleven. I considered going for a walk to see the monuments, but decided that would just depress me further, seeing all the things in D.C. I wouldn’t be a part of. Better to just go back to my apartment and wait.

  I opened the front door of the three-story brownstone and went up to the second floor. When I slid my key in the lock, I remembered how excited I had been five days earlier when I first opened the door and saw the place. It was the beginning of a new adventure that I was so looking forward to. And here I was, less than a week later, running away from my dreams because I couldn’t control myself. My depression weighed on me like an enormous pressure on my chest. I wished my father was here right now to take me away from all this.

  I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, then reached for the light switch. But my hand froze inches from it when a voice came from behind me.

  “Leave it off.”

  I gasped loudly, and my heart trip-hammmered in my chest.

  Then I heard him move, and felt him pressing against my back, his arms slipping around me, crossing over my stomach and pulling me back against him.

  “You’re not leaving me,” he said, his breath hot on my ear.

  I whimpered, but couldn’t speak. His presence was too overwhelming.

  “I need you,” he said, “and you need me. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  His arms held me tighter. “You do. I saw it in your eyes the first time we met a year ago.”

  I gasped. “I can’t.”

  “That may be true, but with my help you can. You’ve been running away your whole life. I’m not allowing you to run away from me.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know everything about you. That’s why I brought you here.”

  I paused, my mind refusing to comprehend what he had just said.

  “That’s right,” he continued, “you’re here because I wanted you here. The open intern position was just a ruse. There was no competition. It was you the entire time.”

  I breathed. “But why?”

  “Because we belong together. We each have what the other needs.”

  “What do I need?”

  “Me.”

  “And what do you need?”

  He turned me in his arms and leaned down to kiss me. His lips were urgent against mine, and I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to push him away. I could feel his tongue probing against my lips, but I refused him entry.

  “No,” I said, turning my head to the side. “I can’t do this.”

  His hand moved to my cheek and neck, turning my face back towards him, resuming his kiss.

  I turned my head the other way, separating our lips again. “You can’t do this.”

  “Sarah, look at me.”

  “No.”

  “Now.”

  Unable to resist, I turned my face up to him, our eyes meeting in the dim light of the room. His looked dark, almost black, and he was staring at me intently. I glared back at him defiantly.

  Don’t stop. Please.

  “Tell me to leave, and I’ll go.” His eyes searched mine.

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Then tell me. Just say it, and I’ll walk out right now.”

  It was as if I was drowning, unable to get any air. The room spun and I focused on his face – his impossibly handsome face and those beautiful eyes boring into me. Eyes filled with lust, for me. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Say it,” he insisted, his jawline firm as his hands held me in place.

  I stared up into his demanding eyes, and through the fog of confusion, a moment of clarity came to me. He did know me. Somehow, he had looked inside and saw my dark secrets. And instead of driving him away, that knowledge had drawn him towards me.

  And then I knew. I knew that I had found what I had been looking for all these years.

  I stared up at him, my mouth set. I remained silent, but my gaze told him he wouldn’t be getting that answer. Not now. Not ever. I was his if he wanted to have me.

  The corners of his lips curled up slightly, and his arms tightened, pulling me harder against him. His urgent hardness pressed against my stomach, and reality no longer had any meaning. I arched my body into his, sliding my arms up around his broad shoulders and holding on tightly. He leaned down and our lips met again. This time, I allowed him access, and his tongue slid into my welcoming mouth, where I met it with mine and they danced together.

  One of his hands slid down to the small of my back, and then up onto the curve of my backside. Gripping my cheek tightly, he pulled me to him, pressing me against his erection. His other hand slid up under my T-shirt, cupping my breast through my bra, teasing his thumb over my surging nipple.

  I groaned into his mouth, feeling the muscles of his shoulders working under his suit jacket. It felt good to be in the strong arms of this powerful man – to be claimed by him like this. Desire surged through me, seeping out and soaking the crotch of my panties.

  He pinched my nipple harder and I emitted a loud moan. The hand on my ass slid between my legs, pressing up and under from behind, insistently massaging my tender flesh through my jeans. I responded by sucking harder on his probing tongue.

  His lips left mine and kissed up onto my cheek, then moved to my ear. His breath was hot as he whispered, “I need your mouth on me.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Oh god. I need to taste you.

  “Yes,” he whispered, and I felt his hands move to my shoulders, pressing me down.

  I resisted. “I can’t.”

  But his strength won out, and I dropped to my knees in front of him. His pants bulged lewdly out, and I could see the faint outline of his erection in the low light.

  “Suck me,” he ordered.

  My hands seemed to move by themse
lves, reaching up to caress his hard length through the expensive material. It felt like he had a steel bar hidden under there, and I slid my hand diagonally, following the stiff angle of his shaft. My eyes opened wide as it went on, and I realized his true size.

  My fingers made quick work of his belt, then undid the button of his pants. After sliding the zipper down, his boxers pushed outward, and I gripped his hardness through the thin cotton. It was soft and hard at the same time, and I felt the heat of it through the material. Its solid thickness caused a twist of desire between my legs.

  His hands combed through my hair, and he whispered, “Yesss, that’s it.”

  My fingers reached up to the waistband of his underwear, and pulled it out and down. His rigid cock sprang free, arching fiercely upward. It was bigger than I’d thought.

  My hand moved to the base and angled it downward, so that the swollen head pointed directly at my mouth. His fingers tightened in my hair, and pulled me to him. Instinctively, my mouth opened and his thickness pressed into me, stretching my lips around his girth.

  The ridge of the head slid past my lips, and his cock filled my mouth. His musky, masculine taste filled my senses, as my tongue worked over the underside of his shaft.

  “Uhhh,” he groaned, and flexed his hips, driving his cock to the back of my throat, almost making me gag. Despite his depth, my lips were only halfway down his shaft, and I was afraid he was going to try to shove it all the way in.

  I tightened the grip of my mouth around him, causing him to sigh in pleasure. A surge of desire flowed through me, and at that moment, all I wanted to do was give him pleasure. My own needs were meaningless, and I only existed to serve him.

  He held my head and began rocking his hips, sliding his engorged flesh in and out of my sucking mouth. I tried to bob my head in time with his thrusts, but he held me in his control, dictating the action.

  As he slid out, my tongue flicked over the plum-like head, tracing around the raised ridge and then licking at the tip, searching for more of his leaking slickness. When he shoved deep, and the spongy head bumped against the back of my throat, all I could do was hold him tightly and run my tongue over the underside of his shaft, exploring its veiny bumps.

  My saliva coated his skin, causing his cock to glisten in the faint glow from the outside streetlights. My lips made wet, soft, sucking sounds as his flesh speared into me, again and again.

  Yes, he knew exactly what I needed, as if he could read instructions printed on me that were invisible to everyone else. I needed this surging cock in me, filling my body just as it was now doing. But doing this was something I could never agree to, and he understood that. Finally, someone understood that.

  He groaned again, and his hips picked up speed, relentlessly driving his cock into my mouth. The sweet drool from the tip was constant now, overwhelming my senses with its pungent taste. My throat made soft, involuntary gagging sounds as he battered against it, and I timed my breaths with his thrusts, while enjoying the lovely pain of his fingers tight in my hair.

  My hand still held the solid base of his cock, gripping its steely hardness and sliding up and down with his strokes, pulling his skin tight as he thrust forward. My lips felt swollen and tender as they kept their firm hold on his thickness, with the inner edges tugged outward with each withdrawal.

  His groans grew in intensity, and he began to fuck my mouth hard, drawing his hips back until just the tip was between my lips, and then driving forward, filling me swiftly. I groaned along with him, knowing I was giving him pleasure.

  Suddenly, his cock jerked in my hand, and pulsed hard in my mouth. In the next second, he grunted loudly and began to fill the back of my throat in warm, strong spurts. I held him deep, swallowing quickly, trying to keep up with everything he was giving me. I almost succeeded, but a thin line escaped from the corner of my lips and ran down onto my chin.

  His cock continued to throb, pulsing out hard jets of his seed onto my tongue. His hands still held me tightly to him, and I kept him in my warm, wet embrace, allowing him to finish inside of me.

  Finally, he was done, and I felt his body relax. His cock began to soften, but I continued to hold it in my mouth, licking away any remaining traces of his cream. His fingers loosened their grip, and he began to caress me, combing through my hair in gentle strokes.

  After a minute, I let his cock slip from my mouth and gave it one last kiss. His hands moved under my arms and he pulled me up to stand with him, our faces inches apart. Reaching up with his finger, he slid it up over my chin, capturing the escaped seed and then slipping his finger into my mouth, allowing me to lick it clean.

  I looked into his eyes, searching for approval.

  His hand moved to caress my cheek, brushing my hair out of the way.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said. “You’re just what I’ve been searching for.”

  I smiled softly. “Thank you. For everything. But most of all, thank you for coming here tonight. And claiming me.” I watched his eyes closely for a response.

  The corners of his lips curled upward. “You belong to me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I do.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Completely.”

  “Are you going to leave me again?”

  “I’ll be yours as long as you want me. I’ve been searching for you.”

  “I know you have. I’ve been looking for you, too. But there is one thing I want to make clear.”

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t want to hear a ‘no’ from you again. You will do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?”

  I felt weak in my knees. Finally.

  “Of course.”

  He leaned down and kissed me hard, and I arched into him, pressing my breasts against his chest. Our tongues intertwined and I became lost in his strong embrace. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I knew I would follow wherever he led.

  A knock on the door startled us both, causing us to step back from each other.

  “Sarah! It’s Dad. Let me in.”

  My eyes went wide and I froze. The President quickly fastened his pants, then turned on a lamp.

  “Answer it,” he whispered, standing up straight.

  I went to the door, opened it, and saw the concerned face of my father. President Remington was standing to the side, out of my dad’s line of sight.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He pulled me into his arms. “You had me so worried. How are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sarah,” the President said, “invite your father in. I’d love to meet him.”

  My father released his hold on me and gave me a curious look, then tried to look around the door. I pushed it open and stepped back.

  When my dad saw who was standing there, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in shock. The President stepped forward and offered his hand. My father stared at him a moment longer before taking it in his.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Hayes. And I want to offer you my apology.”

  “Apology?” Dad said, starting to come around. “For what?” My father was tall, but he still had to look up to meet the President’s gaze.

  “I’m afraid it was my fault for Sarah wanting to leave. I was out of line, and felt I had to come here to apologize to her. She was standing up for her principles, and you should be very proud of her. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Dad turned to me, still wearing a slightly stunned look. “Sarah, are you ok?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine, Dad. It was just a misunderstanding, and I overreacted. I’m sorry you had to fly here for nothing.”

  My father visibly relaxed. “Just so you’re ok. That’s the important thing.”

  “Tell you what,” the President said, “just so you didn’t come here for nothing, why don’t you stop by the White House tomorrow, and I’ll give you the mini tour. I’m not sure of my schedule, so Sarah will call you with the time.”

  My
dad’s eyes lit up. “I would love that. But, um, I bought tickets to fly back tonight.”

  The President rested a hand on my dad’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can get you home. I do have an air force, after all.” He gave him that familiar grin.

  Dad smiled. “That would be fantastic. Thanks.”

  The President held out his hand again. “It’s set then. I have to be going. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” He walked to the door, and then stopped and turned around and reached into his coat pocket. “Almost forgot. Sarah, I think you’ll be needing this.” He held out my ID badge.

  I took it from him, and felt a tingle of pleasure as our hands brushed together. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Good night.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  I turned to my father, who was gaping at me.

  “Sarah, you have some explaining to do.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, I felt awkward showing up at the White House after quitting the day before, but my fellow interns seemed happy to see me. April pressed me for details about what happened, but I remained vague about it. Shortly after sitting down at my desk, I received an email from Mrs. Marshall asking me to come to her office.

  “Close the door and have a seat,” she said as I entered.

  I did as she asked and gave her a sheepish look.

  She smiled. “I’m glad to hear your problems have been resolved.”

  “Me too.”

  “Anything you want to share?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “Well, I hope that next time, if there is a next time, you take a breath before you make any rash decisions.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “You should be honored. It’s unheard of for the president to telephone an intern at home and ask them to reconsider. I told you he likes you.”

  I smiled. “Yes, he made me feel special, calling me like that.”

  “He asked me to bring you into see him when I was done. Also told me your father was visiting today.”

  “Yes. Dad’s very excited about it.”