by M. T. Pope
The attention grew tiresome until she learned to harness the benefits into a commodity that was meaningful to her. Her father always told her, “You’re beautiful, Black Bird, but always remember, without power you’re nothing is this world.”
After completing her law degree at Harvard, her looks quickly transported her into the upper echelons of politics. While working in Washington as a corporate attorney she was relentlessly pursued by politicians and Washington power brokers, but General Roulette was the only man who caught her eye as she walked down the hall of the Pentagon with one of her clients.
The four stars on his uniform were the second thing Raven saw after his penetrating chocolate eyes. Orpheus took a double take when she passed him in the hall. The two stopped and turned around at the same time. It was if the script had been written for them, and all they had to do was read the lines. They were married a year later.
“Don’t we have enough already in our lives?” Orpheus said to her reflection in the vanity mirror. “We have each other. We have the kids, a beautiful home in Presidio. Isn’t that enough to make you happy?”
“No, it’s not enough,” Raven said, removing the diamond earrings. “We’ve talked about this, Orpheus. You and I both want this, remember? You said you wanted it as much as I did.”
“I never said that,” Orpheus replied while removing his evening jacket. “I only said I want you to be happy.”
“Well this is what will make me happy,” she said bitterly. “I hate San Francisco. I hate California. I hate pretending to enjoy lunching with all those dried-up, face-lifted, rich bitches. I want to go to Washington. I want you to be president.”
“Vice president,” Orpheus snapped.
“Don’t be naïve, Orpheus. They wouldn’t consider you for vice president if they didn’t think you could eventually be president.”
“I don’t fucking want to be president,” he yelled. “You want me to be president.”
Orpheus continued to undress. He made every effort to not make eye contact with her.
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. Everyone wants to be president,” Raven said, jerking around to face him.
“You know that’s not true.”
“It is true. But you are one of the few people in this country who actually has a chance to make it a reality.”
Raven walked to him as he unbuckled his pants. “Baby, listen to me. This country needs you. Those hollow military sanctions against Iran have failed. They already have the ability to produce uranium. If their race for nuclear power is not interrupted they will have a nuclear bomb by 2014. Do you think some Ivy League asshole who never served a fucking day in the military is going to be able to stand up to them? The country needs a leader like you with balls,” she said seductively.
Raven moved closer as his pants dropped to the floor. “I know you have the balls.” She said, wrapping her arms around his bare waist. “I’ve seen them and they’re beautiful.”
Raven slipped her soft hand under the elastic waistband of his military white boxers and gently caressed his testicles. “You see,” she whispered in his ear. “They‘re enormous; just what this country needs.”
She could feel him growing in her hand as she spoke. “You’re the man to do the job. You’re the man with enough courage to stand up to terrorists. I wish you had been president in 2001,” she said, slowly messaging his engorged member. “I think you would have flown to Iraq on Air Force One and killed Saddam Hussein and any other bastard who threatened your country with your bare hands.”
Orpheus began to moan under her touch. His hulking body and broad shoulders wilted in her gentle arms. “Don’t do this, Raven,” came his weak protest. “We’re not done talking about this.”
“They want to reduce our military,” she whispered into his ear. “You would convince the American people we need to make it stronger.”
Orpheus raised his hands to her neck and released the hook on her dress, allowing it to glide over her soft shoulders and fall into puddle of silk at her feet.
“You’re manipulating me again and I don’t like it,” he said breathlessly into her neck.
“I’m manipulating the future vice president and he loves it.”
Raven unbuttoned his starched white shirt. “The Democrats want to open our borders to everyone in the world,” she said, pushing him to the bed. “You would close them and kill anyone who tried to cross illegally. Make love to me, Mr. Vice President,” she said, pulling his white boxers to his ankles.
She gently kissed her way up his legs while removing her panties and bra. “I want you to fuck me the way you would fuck anyone who dared to threaten this country,” she panted between kisses to his calves and thighs. “Make me feel safe. The way every American will feel when you’re in the White House. Take care of me baby. I need you.”
Raven straddled her vice president with one stealth move. Orpheus released a whimper as she slowly lowered her body onto his rigid shaft. The movement of her hips left him powerless to only moan in ecstasy and look helplessly into her eyes as she spoke.
“You would have found Osama bin Laden in a week and cut his balls off,” she said while gliding up and down. “America needs you, Mr. Vice President. Don’t let us down.”
Orpheus summoned the strength to grasp her by the neck and yank her to him. He pressed her face to his and kissed her with such force that she gasped with pleasure. Orpheus forced her onto her back while still deep inside her.
She clamped her legs around his thrashing back and moaned, “Fuck me, Mr. President. Fuck me hard and make me yours.”
He stroked and kissed her breasts as she moaned with each downward plunge. Raven clawed at his sweaty back and slapped his buttocks, encouraging him to go faster and harder.
Orpheus groped for the side of the mattress when he knew the end was near. The edges of the large bed extended beyond his reach so he gripped the sheets and braced himself for his reward.
For the brief moments of simultaneous climactic pleasure, their bodies melded into one. The overpowering sensations caused them each to moan with pleasure. Their fevered gasps synchronized, allowing one to exhale at the exact moment the other inhaled.
Orpheus collapsed panting onto his back. Raven tossed her jostled hair from her eyes and rested her head on his still-heaving chest.
“I feel safe now, Mr. Vice President,” she purred and curled under his arm.
Chapter 2
It was eight o’clock on Monday morning. The Roulette household was preparing for another week of private schools, war, and ladies who lunch. The two-story house was the largest in the Presidio. It rested at the top of a grassy knoll that looked out over the San Francisco Bay, Golden Gate Bridge, and the Pacific Ocean. It was built in 1856 and had served as the residence of previous generals including John Pershing.
Their home was filled with mementoes from the many countries they had lived in. A Samurai sword presented to Orpheus by the emperor of Japan hung over the fireplace. A South African Zulu warrior shield given to him by Nelson Mandela was displayed in the entry hall. Every room held some trinket that gave testament to his stature as a modern-day hero. A winding driveway led up to the white wood-framed structure. The house and its history were perfectly maintained by an army of groundskeepers who kept the hedges trimmed, the magnolia trees pruned, and lush green lawn manicured. The house was an imposing presence on the old army base with its row of Palladian windows on each floor looking out over the base.
The kitchen was the heart of the home. It was a sea of Brazilian cherry hardwood floors and cabinets. A glass-front subzero refrigerator and a ten-burner Wolf range covered by a restaurant-grade stainless-steel hood catapulted the vintage kitchen with all its original molding and fixtures into the twenty-first century.
The Roulettes’ cook, Li Yeng, busied herself at the stove, sending the smell of frying bacon wafting through the first floor of the house. She was a somber, slight woman who arrived, with apron in hand, like clockwork at 6:00 A
.M. Monday through Friday to prepare a day’s worth of nourishment for the Roulette clan. Li Yeng preferred to keep her head down when the entire family was in the room and to avoid eye contact with the lady of the house. She knew more about the Roulette family than they in fact knew about themselves.
Orpheus IV was the first Roulette to come downstairs that morning. “Good morning, Li Yeng,” he said in his usual crisp and precise tone. “How was your weekend?”
Orpheus Beauregard Roulette IV was the compact mirror image of his father. At sixteen it was clear to all who met the handsome and polite young man that he would follow in the Roulette family military tradition. He was socially and philosophically on a trajectory that would lead him straight to West Point Military Academy. Little’O, which he was called only within walls of the Roulette home, had been at the top of his class for two years running at the exclusive and academically rigorous University High School in San Francisco.
“It was fine, Little’O. Thank you for asking,” Li Yeng replied in perfect English while flipping a strip of bacon. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m not really,” he replied, reaching for the New York Times on the marble island in the center of the room.
Li Yeng looked over her shoulder and said, “You are a growing solider. You have to eat.”
Little’O enjoyed being referred to as a solider. He looked up from the headline. “You’re right, Li Yeng,” he replied with his father’s smile. “For you, I will have breakfast.”
Reva Roulette, the youngest of the Roulette family at fourteen, stormed into the kitchen. “Are you taking me to school or is Mommy?” she curtly asked her brother, tossing her backpack onto the counter.
“Don’t be rude, Reva,” Little’O replied. “Father has told you to say good morning to Li Yeng when you enter the kitchen.”
“Good morning, Li Yeng,” Reva said in a huff without looking at the cook. “Now are you going to take me or not, Little’O?”
“Good morning, Ms. Reva,” Li Yeng said without turning away from the frying bacon.
“I can take you, but I have to leave in fifteen minutes so be ready.”
“I’m ready now. Let’s go.”
Little’O looked at Li Yeng’s back. “We can’t leave now. Li Yeng’s made us breakfast,” he said to his impatient little sister.
“I don’t want breakfast. You know I don’t like pork, Li Yeng. Why do you even make it? It’s gross!”
“Because your father likes bacon.”
“Well he shouldn’t eat it either,” Reva said, rolling her bright caramel eyes. “Hurry up then. I’ll wait for you in the car. I hate the smell of frying bacon. It makes me nauseated.”
Reva snatched her book bag from the counter and exited the room.
“Just ignore her, Li Yeng.”
Li Yeng placed a plate of toast and bacon and a bowl of oatmeal in front of Little’O at the counter and said, “It’s okay, Little’O. Teenage girls are like that. Remember I have two of my own.”
“My father always says, ‘There’s no excuse for rudeness, ’ and I agree.”
As Little’O said the words his mother entered the kitchen. “Good morning, darling,” she said with a peck on his forehead. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept well, Mother. And you?”
“Like a log. Where is Reva?”
“She’s waiting for me in the car. Would you like for me to drop her at school?”
“Thank you, darling. That would be wonderful,” Raven said and placed another peck on his cheek. “Li Yeng, did you remember to stop on your way in this morning and pick up the salmon for dinner?”
“Yes, Mrs. Roulette,” Li Yeng replied from the sink with her back to Raven. “It’s in the refrigerator. I’ll start it as soon as you all have had breakfast.”
“Good. I want everything to be perfect for the general tonight.”
“Yes, Mrs. Roulette,” Li Yeng said without looking up. She reached for a dishtowel to her left and was met by Little’O’s sympathetic gaze. She quickly looked away as to not interrupt the rhythm of the Roulette morning.
“Good morning, Li Yeng,” Orpheus said, appearing in the threshold between the kitchen and the entry hall. He was in full blue service uniform. Four silver stars rested on epaulettes on each shoulder. Proficiency badges covered the flap over his upper left pocket. Above the badges was a colorful swath of ribbons for medals and commendations. His nametag was worn on the upper right pocket flap. Unit awards and foreign awards were above the pocket, with a regimental insignia above both.
“Good morning, General,” Li Yeng said, turning for the first time away from the sink.
“Good morning, soldier,” Orpheus said to his son. “Are you ready to take on the world today?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, lifting his right hand instinctively to salute.
“Have you told the kids yet, darling?” Raven asked wryly.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Orpheus said with a hint of irritation.
“Tell us what?” Little’O asked, looking anxiously between his two parents.
“Your father is being modest, dear,” Raven said, reaching for the general’s hand. “He’s been asked to run for vice president,” she said, beaming.
“Raven,” Orpheus shouted, pulling his hand away. “I haven’t been asked yet. Don’t start putting that rumor out there.”
“Vice president,” Little’O said, jumping from his seat. “Dad, that’s amazing. I love Washington.”
“Slow down, soldier,” Orpheus said. “They only said my name could possibly be on the shortlist. A shortlist in Washington could be fifty people.”
“Nonsense, darling,” Raven said dismissively. “I’ll bet there are twenty names at the most on the list. And I guarantee you none of them will have your credentials.”
“She’s right, Dad,” Little’O said enthusiastically. “You’re the third-youngest four-star general in the history of the country. Your military record is spotless. And look at us.” Little’O dashed playfully to his mother’s side, flashed the broad Roulette smile, and said, “You have the perfect American family. How could you not be at the top of the list?”
“He’s right, dear,” Raven said, posing with her son and matching his smile. “America is going to love us.”
“Li Yeng, don’t listen to these two. They’re being ridiculous.”
Li Yeng emerged from the woodwork and said shyly, “You will make a great vice president, General Roulette.”
“Not you too,” Orpheus said.
“Listen to her, Orpheus. That’s the voice of the common man,” Raven said, sending Li Yeng back into the woodwork.
“Is my driver here yet?” Orpheus asked to change the subject.
“Of course he is,” Raven said. “He’s always here at seven-thirty on the dot.”
“Well I’d better get going. Where’s Reva?”
“She’s waiting in the car for me,” Little’O said, returning to his seat. “She claims the smell of bacon makes her nauseated.”
“Last week it was the smell of raw fish,” Orpheus said to Li Yeng. “I love your bacon. But I have to pass this morning. I’m running late. Where’s my briefcase?” he asked of no one in particular.
Orpheus gathered his briefcase and keys from the counter and kissed Raven. “What are you doing today, Black Bird?” he asked.
“Just lunch with the girls,” came the dismissive reply.
“Please don’t mention any of this business to those two. If you do it’ll be all over the country by this evening.”
Raven did not respond but instead focused on the morning headlines.
Orpheus then bent down and kissed Little’O on the forehead. “Good-bye, solider. I love you.”
“I love you too, Father,” he replied, looking up proudly at Orpheus.
The Roulette family went their separate ways for the day, leaving Li Yeng alone and in peace in the now quiet kitchen. She emptied a plate piled with crispy bacon, eight eggs prepared with
the individual tastes of each family in mind, and a platter of toast into the garbage bin. It was a routine she had grown accustomed to. The general’s wife, as she called Raven to her friends, insisted that a full breakfast be prepared each morning for her family and each morning Li Yeng would toss the food, untouched, into the trash.
The general will make a wonderful vice president, she thought as she shoveled the food into the bin. But God help us all if that bitch goes to Washington with him.
Chapter 3
The carpet, walls, table cloths, and chairs provided the perfect beige canvas for the ample-busted trophy wives and jewel-encrusted socialites having afternoon tea at the Laurel Court Bar and Restaurant on the ground floor of the Fairmont Hotel. The beige backdrop was splattered with wing back chairs and San Francisco ladies who lunch. Waiters pirouetted between the tables and marble pillars that reached to the ceiling, balancing plates of finger sandwiches, watercress salads, bottles of the finest California wines, and the latest sparkling water.
Pastels accented by family jewels were the attire of the day. Diamonds that had been passed down from one idle generation to the next sparkled on perfectly manicured fingers and hung from tightly tugged necks. Layers of blushing makeup covered the wrinkles and aging flesh of the dozens of the city’s wealthiest women of leisure who gathered in the room on a regular basis for tea and gossip.
The room was filled with chatter.
“I heard she caught him in bed with her sister,” was the gossip of the day at a table of four.
“I’m so over Paris. It’s like the Disney World of France,” could be heard from another table. “Every hillbilly in the country who can log on to expedia.com goes there now.”
“The divorce is final today,” said another woman to her tablemate. “I got the house in Sea Cliff and he got the pool boy.”
Raven Roulette saw her lunch companions sitting at their favorite table. Her perfect skin was immediately the envy of every woman in the room. The rhythm of the gossip slowed and juicy tidbits dripped from red lips with slight stammers as Raven made her way to the table in the center of the room. It was her table on Mondays at 1:00 and everyone in the room knew it. She had earned it by the elaborate parties she had thrown and by the sweat of Li Yeng’s and countless servers’ brows.