The Sweet Thief

by Temple Madison

  “My god, has something happened to Griff?”

  “No honey, Griff is fine. This is... well, it’s... never mind, I’ll tell you when I get there.”

  That night as they ate quietly, Lorelei looked up at the hovering secret agent, and whispered, “I’m so glad you came over, Daddy. Living alone in this plush prison is downright spooky. I don’t think I could have eaten one more meal by myself with that character watchin’ me.”

  The senator looked over at the solemn-faced Secret Service man. “Just dismiss him, honey.”

  “I try,” she said, her whisper becoming filled with anger. “Then I see him peepin’ at me from around the corner.”

  “He’s just doing his job, Lorelei. You know how it’s been since Griff was shot. They’re all on heightened security. Once this all dies down, things will get back to normal. Just be patient. “

  “But why do I need so much protection inside? I could understand if we were out on the street, but my god, we’re inside the White House. What could happen to me here?”

  The senator looked up at the man and smiled. “You’re dismissed, Chad. The First Lady and I want a little privacy. Can you understand that?”

  “Sir, please don’t refer to her as the First Lady. Her code name is Queen.”

  “Of course. Now, if you will, please leave... uh... Queen and I would like to be alone.”

  “Of course, sir, but my orders are to protect Queen at all times.”

  “I’m with her now, and I’ll protect her.”

  “Sorry, sir, but...”

  Lorelei threw her napkin down in a rage and stood up. “I’m goin’ out.”

  The senator jumped up and followed her. “Out? Out where?”

  “You said you wanted to talk to me, so I’m going to take you out to the fanciest, most expensive, and most beautiful restaurant in Washington.”

  “Well, honey, it may not be wise to go out... at least not until you hear what I have to say.”

  She looked angrily toward the rigid expression of the Secret Service man. “I’m not stayin’ in this prison another minute. Are you comin’ with me, or do I turn this town upside down without you?”

  The senator frowned. “I have a feelin’ I’d better go with you.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “How does what feel?”

  “How does it feel to keep me out of trouble for a change, instead of Griff?”

  “I don’t like either feelin’ very much. Where are we goin’?”

  “I’ll ask the chauffeur. He knows Washington like the back of his hand.”

  Lorelei dressed with care. She smiled a naughty smile as she chose one of the sexiest dresses she had. Looking into the full-length mirror, she lifted an impish eyebrow. “Hold on to your seat, Washington—Queen is goin’ to town.”

  When they walked into the restaurant, a flourish of excitement began. Many people came over to ask about Griff, get Lorelei’s autograph or to say hello. After they’d been there a few minutes, one dark, handsome man came over to shake her hand, leaving in her palm a slip of paper. When she saw it, she opened it up.

  You’re a beautiful woman I would love to know better.

  Gary Frangos

  703-555-2157

  When the Secret Service agent saw the note, he jumped up, rushed to the man, and pulled him out of his seat. He was getting ready to arrest him when Lorelei saw the two struggling together. She jumped up, ran over, and tried to pull Chad away from the man. When Chad wasn’t so easily discouraged, she began hitting him on the back and screaming, “Let him go, you stupid jerk!”

  Suddenly, more fights broke out. Brawlers knocked furniture over and sent food flying through the air. Flashbulbs began flashing. Microphones appeared and were thrust into Lorelei’s face as she yelled threats at the Secret Service man. When he didn’t respond, she climbed on a chair, jumped on his back, pulled at his hair, choked him and scratched his face. “I said, let him go, you gorilla!”

  * * * *

  While the senator was busy ducking out of the way of food whizzing over his head or dodging a flying body when someone came falling over his table, Lorelei suddenly appeared from out of the crowd and yelled over the noise, “By the way, Daddy, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

  “You start tomorrow, baby,” the senator shouted back while holding out a champagne toast to her. “In the absence of Griff, the vice president and the Speaker of the House, you’ve been appointed president.”

  “What?” Lorelei shouted above the roar of the chaos.

  “You’ll take your vows in the privacy of the Oval Office... then it’s off to the races.”

  “Me?” Her face screwed up in astonishment. “Why in god’s name would they pick me? There must be any number of choices.”

  “The cold, hard facts are you’re the only one competent enough to take on the task. Some of the more progressive choices are abroad on important missions and can’t be spared at this time. We certainly can’t wait for their return, so...” He lifted his glass in a toast. “Congratulations, Madam President.”

  * * * *

  “But, Daddy—” She looked up, saw a large plant whiz over her head, and took the senator’s hand. “We’d better get out of here.”

  They managed to weave through the crowd to the front door where she saw the man who had given her the note. “I’m really sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile.

  “No problem,” the man said after brushing himself off. “Best time I ever had.” His voice softened as he looked at her with interest. “The offer still stands.”

  Before she had a chance to answer, a strong, husky body hustled her out the door. As she was leaving, she happened to notice that the man’s finger didn’t have a ring on it, and seethed all the way home, twisting the glittering shackle around her finger and wondering why the man she loved had to be such a king-sized louse.

  The next day, after her official swearing in, Lorelei rode in a limo to the hospital to give Griff the news. Upon her arrival, she saw a TV set being rolled into his room by a nurse who turned it on and then left. The stiff news anchor that was broadcasting the news gave a vivid description of the chaos that had taken place in one of Washington’s most prestigious restaurants the night before, followed by a video. Everyone’s head turned when they heard loud voices and scuffling coming from the TV. Griff’s eyes widened in response to the camera’s close up of the First Lady’s ample bosom as she rode the back of her Secret Service man.

  Griff lunged up from his pillow. “Lorelei, that’s you.”

  “Yeah.” Lorelei smiled. “I look pretty good, don’t you think?”

  “So do your goddamned boobs, but TV’s not the place for them.” He turned, anger showing in his face. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Not a friggin’ thing, you son of a bitch,” she said with a toss of her head. “You can get your ass photographed from here to hell’s front door, but the first time I get in a scrape, it’s a scandal that’ll never be lived down. Is that the scenario, Griff?”

  “You’ve embarrassed me, you twit.”

  “Oh, what a shame,” she said, feigning sorrow. “The great Griff Nyle is embarrassed.” She frowned and yelled into his face. “And those times you were found ass-up with your little bimbos, I wasn’t, I don’t suppose!”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Oh, please. Of course it is, you empty-headed Italian suit. It’s just that the shoe is on the other foot now.” She wagged her head. “Doesn’t feel too damned good, does it?”

  Griff narrowed his eyes. “You straighten up, you little bitch, do you hear? You’re representing me and this whole goddamned country. I don’t want to hear about any more embarrassing episodes like this one.” He waited for a response, but she said nothing. Finally he yelled at her. “Lorelei, do you hear me?”

  She looked over at him angrily. “Griff,” she said, looking at him curiously “Do you believe what it says in the Bible about an eye for an eye?”<
br />
  “Just answer my question, you little bitch.”

  She began pacing and counting on her fingers. “First, there was the blonde in the... or was she the first? Darn, I get so confused. Anyway, next came the brunette at the party... then, came Margine... oh no, I seem to have left out someone by the name of Nancy.” She looked over at Griff. “She was the gal backstage at one of your, what do you call them, speeches?” She furrowed her brow as if she was thinking. “Now, who else?” She shrugged when she gave up, and said, “Honestly, Griff, I just can’t keep up with all your bimbos. Of course, that’s not counting the ones I don’t know about, or the near misses, like the brunette at the fundraiser” She turned to look at him. “Or should we add her to your other conquests? My, my, I guess when I run out of fingers I can start on my toes, but fiddle-dee-dee, suga’, I don’t know what I’ll do when I run out of toes.”

  “Don’t try any of that sweet Southern crap on me, you bitch. You will stop this, you hear?” he yelled.

  “Oh... I don’t know, suga’, maybe I do, but then again... maybe I don’t.” As she walked toward the door, she gingerly picked up her purse and began swinging it around and doing a sexy bump-and-grind, humming the tune of “The Stripper.” She stopped, shifted her eyes over at him, and said, “Bye, bye darlin’.” She leaned toward the TV and lovingly caressed the large square box. “If I don’t make it to the hospital, don’t worry, you can always see me on TV.”

  * * * *

  The moment Griff made it home from the hospital, news of Lorelei’s many escapades greeted him, and he almost exploded. He sat watching her dancing image being flaunted on TV and fire sparked in his eyes. He saw what everyone saw. Her striking appearance had men drooling, her ample bosom trembled as she danced, and her red and black lace panties sent Griff into a tailspin he didn’t think he’d ever come out of. He jumped up out of his bed and stood in the middle of the room yelling, “Lorelei!” His fury rose to a dangerous level. “Where’s Chad?” he called out to anyone who could hear him. “Where is that goddamned, lousy, son-of-a-bitchin’ Secret Service devil who’s been taking my wife out to every fuckin’ club in town where she kicks up her fuckin’ heels and shows herself to every goddamned man in the country!”

  Griff caught his chest, staggered back to his bed, and sat down. Weakness had overcome him, causing him to slowly lie back with his eyes closed. He could still hear the sound of the reporter’s voice describing the play-by-play of Lorelei’s most recent night on the town. He learned that Lorelei had been a big hit the night before. The newscasters described with glowing words how the new leader of the country had emerged from the shadows of the big white prison, not stiff and proper, but as a beautiful, young, sophisticated woman in touch with today’s world. Griff lifted his head curiously, and opened one eye just in time to see a caricature’s sketch of Lorelei in a cutaway tux parading down Pennsylvania Avenue. With a scowl on his face, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and moaned out, “Oh, god, how embarrassing.”

  * * * *

  Almost every night Lorelei was out on the town somewhere, her flaming red hair bouncing around her shoulders as she shimmied in daring dresses that glittered in the city lights. She seemed to attract the attention of every newsman and photographer in the city, as well as working her Secret Service men hard as they followed her from club to club. She dreamed of someday losing them altogether.

  Now, as she drug herself in with her stiletto heels hanging on her fingers, she squinted at the bright horizon where the sun was about to come up.

  She was tired—so very tired.

  She didn’t know if presidents ever got a day off, but she was determined to take one. However, when she finally got up, she found several storm clouds on the horizon.

  The moment she and the White House photographer walked into the Oval Office, she observed the unsmiling faces of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the White House Security Chief, and her loving husband.

  “Madam President,” General Strand said. “I’m afraid we’ve got a serious situation on our hands.”

  “Yes, I know.” She stretched. “I’ve been losing a lot of sleep.”

  The naughty side of her came out when she happened to catch a glimpse of the darting, stealthy eyes of the men who gawked at her curvaceous body. To annoy them, she delighted in stretching like a cat lying in the sun before she finally spoke.

  “I guess I’ll have to stay at home a few nights and catch up.”

  “Madam President,” the general continued, looking concerned. “We’re afraid if this... this latest activity you’ve become involved in continues, the country will look on you as nothing more than...” He hesitated, his gaze darting toward the others for support. “Well... window dressing.”

  “Window dressing?” she said as she pushed several items on the desk back and hopped up on it, crossing her long, beautiful legs and pulling out a cigarette, even though she knew smoking wasn’t allowed in the White House.

  The general looked at the cigarette distastefully, but offered her a light, which she ignored.

  She lit her own, then blew smoke in his face as she asked, “Isn’t that what you think of me anyway? I’m a woman, so how could I know anything? I’m dumb, isn’t that what you’re saying? How many of my decisions and perfectly good ideas have you purposely ignored because they weren’t something you thought I’d know anything about?” She looked down at her legs, caressed the shadowy spider webbing that stretched along them, then shifted her eyes back up at them. “Or like a run in my panty hose, for instance, or a bad hair day?”

  “Well, it’s true. You are, more or less, just a warm body to fill up the seat in the Oval Office, but in my opinion, you’ve done well.”

  She let her fury show on her face as she focused on each of them in turn, then narrowed her eyes. Slowly she pulled her gaze away, looked down at the smoldering tip of her cigarette, and chuckled derisively. “Done well?” she repeated as she looked back at them. “Get this straight, you decorated toy soldiers. I have more sense in my split ends than any one of you have in your little pinkies, which is about the size of your cocks. And I can make you sweat... every one of you.” Her gaze reflected anger as she looked over at Griff. “Right... suga’?”

  “Mada—”

  “If you call me Madam President one more time, I’ll scream... another trait only allowed for women!”

  The men were clearly uncomfortable dealing with her. “So,” she said after taking a thoughtful drag off her cigarette and allowing the smoke to escape lazily past her lips. “It’s my extracurricular activities that have you bothered, is that it?”

  “Well... yes.”

  She lowered her eyelashes for a moment, then looked up. “What about the approval rating. What does it show?”

  “Well... it’s... it’s... gone up, but...”

  “Get out!”

  “But, Madam...”

  She jumped down off the desk. “I said, get out!”

  The White House security chief reached over to usher the White House Photographer out.

  “Get your filthy hands off him, you... you... double-O nerd. He’s here on my orders. His name is Deshi Han, he’s been assigned to me, and you’re never to touch him again. If you do, I’ll have you court marshaled so quick—”

  Just then she felt someone’s hands on her, turned around, and on a defensive impulse, reached out and flipped the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  Deshi lifted his camera and started snapping picture after picture.

  Lorelei saw Griff’s wide eyes focused on General Strand, who lay flat on the floor unable to move. Then Griff looked over at her. She dared him with her eyes to come closer, so he began backing away.

  Moving quickly, the White House security chief reached out to apprehend Lorelei, but she landed her small hard and fist in his face. Since it surprised her as much as it did him, she looked down, blinking, to find them piled up before her. It then dawned on her what she’d done. Acting hastily, she rai
sed a silky leg and a high-heeled pump, placed it on the inert bodies, and struck a pose. She could see tomorrow’s headlines already.

  Madam President Flattens Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

  And White House Security Chief

  Later, she and Deshi sat down in front of a tray full of sandwiches.

  “Did you get it?” she asked Deshi, laughing so hard she could hardly get the words out.

  “Everything!” he said with an excited look on his face.

  “That should bring a pretty penny.”

  “That reminds me,” he said, wiping at his peanut butter and jelly mouth. He reached in his pocket and drew out an envelope full of money.

  “What’s that?” Lorelei asked, looking at him strangely.

  “It’s the money from the pictures I’ve sold. I wanted to give it to you.”

  “Deshi, that’s not my money, it’s yours. It was your camera, your film and your time. That money goes to further your education, help at home, put in the bank... I don’t know... whatever you want to use it for. It’s yours.”

  “But there’s a lot of money here. Don’t you want at least part of it?”

  “No, Deshi,” she said, pushing it away. “I don’t need the money. You do, so please let me help you. You’re a wonderful photographer, and as you’ve noticed, there are times that I need a photographer. Because of the way things have happened here lately, you’ve been lucky enough to be with me when things have gotten a little wild. As a result, you have pictures of the First Lady kicking up her heels. That’s why I suggested that you sell them. They should be worth a dollar or two, and if that helps you, then you have my permission. Besides, it gives our president heartburn, which is priceless.”