Whispers on the Potomac_Room 312

by Mia Villano

“You are my purpose, Daria Stewart, and without you, nothing else matters.” In the distance, I hear the clock ticking somewhere in her house, reminding me I should leave to get ready for my flight.

  “I need to go. Remember what I said.” I reluctantly pull myself away from her and walk to the front door. She doesn’t move.

  “Sebastian?”

  I stop and wait.

  “I hope to be at the convention. My parents are delegates, remember? If I can get a day off from the hospital, I’ll be there.”

  I turn around and, looking back at her, give her a wink.

  Frank is waiting for me and walks me to the car. He opens the door and I slide in, adjusting myself. His eyes meet mine.

  “Don’t say a fucking word.”

  Without a smile spread across his face, he responds, “Been there. I get it.”

  Once in the car, Cameron lowers the partition. “Where to now, Boss?”

  “Home.”

  I’m uncomfortable and need a release. Since I made a promise not to touch a woman only myself until after the election, I take the lesser of two evils and decide a quick jerk off is in order before my flight.

  “What time do we leave for the airport?” The jet I’m renting is at my disposal for the rest of the campaign, and I take it everywhere. Cameron glances at his watch and looks in the rearview mirror.

  “One hour and forty-five minutes, sir.”

  “I don’t want to be disturbed till it’s time to go. Frank, don’t let anyone in or near my room until we head out.”

  “Got it.” No questions asked. Do they know? Probably not. I spent a lot of time alone before a speech gearing myself up.

  My erection is still pushing up against my pants as I race to the private bathroom attached to my bedroom. I have to get off before I explode. The sight of her in that sweaty body suit is too much to take. Once inside my bathroom and the door is locked, I hurriedly strip off my suit and jump into the shower. Grabbing a bar of soap and stroking my throbbing cock, I imagine Daria riding me. My body trembles as I close my eyes and relive how she loved to be on top. My hands cupping her round, tight ass as her long legs were wrapped around my waist. Her moans are still in my thoughts as I pull and tug at my cock. I lick my lips, still tasting her on me. Steam curls around me as I put a hand up against the shower tiles to steady myself. I close my eyes and squeeze the head of my cock slow at first. As the image of Daria stirs my senses, I jack myself off faster and harder. It doesn’t take long for me to come as I say her name under my breath. “Daria, oh God. I love you.”

  13

  Sebastian

  A couple of weeks leading up to the convention, my team is psyched up. Vick is running the campaign like a billion-dollar company. Constantly running numbers and analyzing spreadsheets, the guy never stops. I have a big decision to make in the coming days, and that is who will be my running mate, and when we will announce my decision. Vick sent over names for me to study, and I try to pick who would be the best choice. I have a new sense of fire burning inside me as I head towards the election. Things are going very well; my convention speech is written, suit tailored, and I’m thrilled Daria will be there to see me.

  Under the impression Garrison went to Paris, a phone call to my mother proves otherwise. He never left and is staying with her.

  “What’s he doing there? I thought he went to Paris.” I’m exhausted from the campaign and having to hear this bullshit is enough to send me into a rage.

  “He is having a rough time, Sebastian. That woman he was going to marry dumped him and he asked if he could stay here.”

  “Why isn’t he at his house? Don’t tell me he suckered you into something again.” There was silence on her end.

  “Mother, tell me what’s going on.” I’m home for a couple of days and ready to head out to my headquarters.

  “He needed his condo renovated, Sebastian. It reminded him too much of Dior and the time he spent with her there.”

  “Are you kidding me? He was with Dior for what, two weeks? When are you going to learn he’s using both of us?” I sit down on my sofa and close my eyes, remembering the money I gave him and realizing what he did with it.

  “Sebastian, what choice do I have? If I don’t do this for him, he’ll be dead in a year. He’s back on heroin again, and I need him here, where we can keep an eye on him.” That’s the first time she has said the word - heroin.

  “I don’t know if you remember or not, but I’m running for President of the United States. I don’t need him here making more scenes.” I stand up again and feel the heat drive up my neck and face.

  “That’s why I need to have him close by. That way we can control him better. Plus, if I do some simple things for him, it will keep him calm.”

  “This is absurd. He’s thirty-six years old, and still needs a babysitter. I just don’t understand why you can’t see through his shit.”

  Remodeling his condo was something he didn’t need done. He had convinced my mother the new look would inspire him to paint better and get his mind off the sixty-something, shriveled up old hag he was sleeping with. She fell for his bullshit - hook, line, and sinker. I want to kick the shit out of his puny, fucked up, ass, but I also know how important it is to our mother for him to be at the convention. Just when I’m tempted to call him and give him a piece of my mind, Vick comes rushing in as usual, puffing on a cigarette. I wave my hand in the air, letting him know I don’t approve of him smoking around me, and he knows it.

  “Did you pick out who you want for Vice President? The convention is soon and you need a VP,” he says, as I study each one with fervor. We should pick someone fast.

  I point to my phone at my ear. “Mom, I have to go. We’ll talk later.” I slide my phone off and direct my attention to my campaign manager.

  “All the names you sent were fucking idiots. Though, I have the list narrowed down to three idiots.” He slams his hand down on my desk. I raise an eyebrow at him, questioning his stupidity to get angry or challenge me. All of us are on edge, overworked, and exhausted. On a long breath, he stares at me.

  “I need a little time. For crying out loud, Vick. This could make or break me.” I stand up and pace.

  “So could sniffing around your former intern, but that doesn’t stop you.” How the hell does he know?

  “Shut the fuck up, Vick. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me? Tell me what is going on and maybe I can understand why you would throw away your political career for a scandal right now.”

  “Throw my political career away? I think you’re being overly dramatic. It’s not like she’s married, and neither am I. I’m not fucking her.”

  “Not yet. Give it time. They’re looking for anything to nail you with. Trust me, anything will be turned into a scandal right now. Don’t you remember the Gary Hart scandal?”

  “This isn’t the eighties, and again, I’m not married to anyone. Get real, Vick.”

  “I can’t talk about this anymore. We have an election to win and less than four months to win it. You need to pick your VP, and do it soon. We need to announce it before the convention. Pick someone, and I suggest you get moving.”

  Vick spends an hour with me and then I have my team come in to go over what is going to happen at the convention in two weeks. My speech writer has an outline of my acceptance speech, and we go over it, making some subtle changes.

  My Republican opponent in the presidential race is none other than Tex Humphrey. Sadly, this guy came out of nowhere and beat every one of his Republican opponents. Not qualified to run a bake sale, the American people look at him for change he promises, but can’t deliver.

  Tex is a seventy-two-year-old conservative and self-proclaimed evangelical bastard with more skeletons in his closet than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s rumored one of his skeletons is a gay lover who never surfaced, though I’m sure he will one day be needing a favor or money. Lucky for him, the news hasn’t leaked this bit of
information. I try to open up that assortment of problems, but his closet of skeletons is sealed tighter than Fort Knox.

  The bible-thumping, narcissist, fat ass doesn’t have a minute of experience in politics. He’s from the outside, but a successful oil tycoon from the eighties and nineties. At the beginning, his campaign lit up and it looked as if beating him may be tough. He embraced the conservative label and started drawing huge crowds at his rallies because of his attitude and elements of racism.

  On his side, he’s the raging front runner. Like me, he’s won every primary without question. The total opposite of my beliefs, just knowing he’s becoming as popular, makes me work even harder. I refuse to be beat, especially by a privileged racist as I know Tax Humphreys to be.

  He and his party struggle like hell to drag up my past, but with little success, like my predecessors. He holds huge rallies in every big city where he coins the terms “We don’t need Reed” and “No need for Reed.”

  Little does he know, he’s just fueling the fire deep within me to prove to him and his followers I’m the better candidate. For one, I don’t lie and it’s proven by the fact checkers. I’m young, energized, and wanting to better the country, not my own agenda. The Republican National Convention was a month ago, and though Tax may have gained in the polls, he doesn’t have the backing of star power I have. The old bastard couldn’t get anyone worthwhile to perform and if they did agree, they were bashed in the media.

  Later in the afternoon, I have Cameron drive me over to my mother’s, to talk to her about my decision for the VP and find out what is truly going on with my brother. She has her nose in the political affairs and she will be able to help me pick the right running mate.

  Finding her in her garden, on her hands and knees, she’s pulling weeds. Yes, she has a gardener to do this, but she always says digging in the dirt is her therapy. The birds are chirping overhead and the sun is beating down on me, making me sweat more than usual.

  “Mother, are you hiding a body? Did you finally do Garrison in?” I partially joke.

  “Sebastian, what are you doing here?” She turns around and wipes her hands on her gardening apron. Walking over to me, she kisses me on the cheek.

  She continues to hold my hands. “Sebastian. I’m glad you stopped by. I need to talk to you about where you want to have your party on election night. I think the Blue Basil is perfect.”

  I let go of her to undo the top button of my shirt and loosen my tie. “The Blue Basil is fine. I need you to go over this list I have of possible VP candidates. I want to get your input on who I should pick. I also need to make sure you are okay with Garrison here.”

  “Let’s go inside. Have you eaten?” I follow behind her into the mammoth kitchen. Her cook Lulu is in there, preparing lunch. Lulu has been with us since I was a baby.

  “No, I’m good. I’m too stressed out right now to eat.”

  Mother rolls her eyes at me. “You sound just like your father. You have to eat, Sebastian.”

  I shrug and make a cup of coffee. My mom instructs Lulu to make me a grilled cheese sandwich with pickles and tomatoes. One of my boyhood favorites and I’m sure not to refuse anything she cooks. Lulu winks at me as she goes to the fridge to get the three types of cheese I used to put on my sandwich.

  “Thanks. Where’s Garrison?” I know my brother is in the house somewhere.

  “I have no idea, Sebastian. He’s somewhere around here. If he’s here in this house, I know he’s safe. Please know that I know what I’m doing. So, if I must remodel his condo...if it keeps him alive and keeps him out of the news, I’ll do it. Though, I’ll be glad when he can leave and go to his home. This is hard on all of us.”

  I sit down at the table and Lulu brings me the grilled cheese. The sandwich reminds me of my younger days; not a care in the world, and playing outside until I was called in for lunch.

  I guess I’m hungry, eating it in a few bites. “This is delicious,” I mumble. Lulu is already making me another one before I even ask.

  “Listen to your mother. I always know what’s best for you; even if you will be president of the United States. And I know what’s best for Garrison right now. You have to eat, Sebastian.” I nod and stuff the sandwich down my throat.

  “Is Garrison being decent?”

  She looks at me. “What do you mean?”

  “He isn’t getting angry or anything, is he? I know he’s getting a little testy.”

  “He better not be, or he’ll be on the next plane to a rehab in a third world country. No. He’s been fine. He stays in his room all the time, on his computer or phone.”

  “Does he go out at all?” I didn’t want to act too concerned.

  “No, he does not leave this house.” My mom puts on her reading glasses hanging by a chain from her neck and looks over the list of possible VP’s. “I loathe Mark Rose. He’s an A1 bastard. You have three names circled. Is this your final three?” she quickly states.

  “I don’t like any of them, but yes, that is the final three. I should decide soon. Vick’s on my ass.”

  She sips her coffee, eating her chicken salad croissant, as she continues to read the list in front of her.

  “Let me read this over more later and get back with you tonight. Can I keep this? You know they’re already vetting these people. This is a long drawn out process, and it takes more than a couple of weeks.”

  “Of course. They put them through hell; however, these idiots made it through the first round.”

  I spend another hour with her and we decide the best two out of three. I make a couple of phone calls, then get back home.

  She calls me the next night and, after thinking about it at length the night before, we decide the best pick is still between the two. Lance Christopher’s the former governor of Wisconsin and ex-military. He favors funding Planned Parenthood and deregulation of the oil companies; he’s a true liberal. The choice is a tossup between him and Madeline Riggs. Madeline is a senator from South Dakota, but not well-known. She’s gruff and tough, and a real tiger against the Republican Party. In the end, I pick the best candidate who will be the easiest to work with, and a compliment to me and my ideas - Lance Christopher. I’m satisfied and happy to have this hurdle behind me.

  A couple days later, we meet with him and I offer him the position. He’s thrilled; excited and ready to hit the trail with me after the convention. We plan to announce our pick the day before the convention. It’s midnight the night before the announcement, when Vick comes rushing into my house as if he was about to tell me the world was on fire.

  “What the hell is wrong now? Someone else want to kill me? Let him,” I ask as I just settle for the night.

  “We have a leak. It’s all over the news. Someone from the inside has leaked who you chose as VP. Frank and some other guys know who it is.” Vick grabs the remote to my television and turns on the news. He’s right. I’m breaking news on three major networks.

  “That’s insane. I haven’t told anyone about who I wanted as VP, except you and my mother. Who the fuck leaked it?” My head goes over faces of my campaign team, not knowing who would want to do this.

  “We were told it’s your brother, Garrison. I think he leaked it to someone for drug money or something else.”

  The obvious hit’s right in the gut. My mother had the list, and we talked about it openly over lunch and on the phone. We didn’t know where my brother was, but he was in her house, listening or listening to our phone call, and he fucked with me. That fucking prick. The leak in my circle is my brother. He had to have done this for money. My brother sold me out for a hit of heroin.

  The news announces I met with and chose Lance Christopher as my VP.

  “What’s the plan now?”

  “Let’s make an announcement. We’ll tell the people who you are picking today and ignore the fact that it was leaked.”

  “Aren’t they going to say who leaked the news? I’m sure Garrison would love to be the one they announce as the leak in my
inner circle. If his brother doesn’t trust him, how will America? I can hear it now.”

  “I’m already on it. Don’t worry.” Vick stands up and pours himself another drink. I notice he’s drinking more than usual.

  “What do you mean, you’re on it?” I stand up and pace my house like a caged animal. I want to choke the life out of Garrison.

  “I have legal stopping it and Curtis is covering all the bases. It won’t get out unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Your brother decides to tell the world he was the leak or whoever may have paid him decides to squeal. He’s a junkie, but he isn’t stupid. He did this for a reason and I think it is more to do with something else and not just drugs.” He throws back the drink in one swallow and pours another.

  “Vick, aren’t you drinking excessively? What do you mean, it's something else other than drugs? Of course he did this for drugs.” He looks at me and I know I overstepped my boundaries. He can be in my personal business, but I can’t be in his.

  “Tell me about this former intern you’re smitten with?”

  “Stop worrying about her. She used to work for me when I was in Congress. What’s it matter who she is?”

  “If you listen to one thing I tell you right now, it’s to stay away from her. I hate having this conversation with you again.”

  I stop walking and sit down. I put my face in my hands. “I can’t stay away.”

  “I have dedicated the last two years of my life to you so you can win this presidency. You wonder why I drink like this.”

  “Don’t you dare blame this on my campaign. Come on, Vick, you were drinking way before you started working for me.” I stand up again and walk over to him.

  “You know where my wife is right now, Sebastian?”

  “Home, like she always is. Jackie is a wonderful woman.” I met Jackie several times. She’s an older woman, slightly overweight, but soft spoken and always smiling. She was leery of allowing Vick to take on my campaign until I gave her my charm and she melted like butter.