by Tanya Jolie
Anita furrowed her brow as she remembered how Holland had shifted his gaze to Bruce more often than not; how he looked for his approval every time she opened her mouth, as if her judgement wasn’t enough, as if she didn’t graduate from Northwestern University at the tender age of 19 and then go on to gain a law degree from Yale; as if her father didn’t have a seat on the Supreme Court; as if he hadn’t hand-picked her himself to be his Secretary of Defense only two years ago. So what changed?
Bruce. That’s what.
Something about the way he could so easily manipulate Holland with his words. He seemed to always take the right risks at the right time. But, her concerns extended beyond that. His influence was almost insidious, and he was impossibly mysterious. His every word felt like it was meant to hide a hundred others.
So what the hell was he hiding?
With that thought, Anita got off of her rug, slipped her heels back on, grabbed her suitcase, and charged down the hallway to his office. She was beyond fed up with all of this, so when she finally got to the door they had only just marked with his name, she stormed right in. “What the fuck are you hiding?” she demanded.
Bruce, who was sitting behind his desk, staring intently at his laptop looked up at her with eyes wide with surprise. “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about,” he replied in an infuriatingly calm voice.
Anita slammed the door behind her and pressed farther into his office. “Don’t give me that, Harrington. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Bruce scoffed, gently closing his laptop and standing up to face her. “If this has anything to do with your little drunken visit to my house, then I have already told you, I have nothing to say.”
Anita winced. “How did you know I was drunk?”
Bruce flinched, looking away from her and down at his shoes. She got the distinct feeling that he didn’t even know how he knew that she was drunk. “Because I remember,” he told her in an unsure voice.
Anita’s briefcase slid from her fingers, slamming onto the ground. Her mind was falling into the obvious, yet impossible answer far too fast. “But you weren’t there,”
He glowered at her. “I was.”
Anita knew he said that only because he had to. “Where? The lights in front of your house were off.” She remembered that moment as if it had only just passed. She could practically taste the alcohol in her mouth, could feel the cold November night breeze.
Bruce stepped around his desk. Anita could see that he had begun to relax a little, for his jacket hung on the seat in front of his desk, his tie had been loosened, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone. Anita tried not to get sidetracked about the fact that she could see his chest hairs through his shirt, and it was more than a little bit alluring. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”
Anita huffed out a breath, then stepped up towards him, completely imposing on his personal space. She got a whiff of his woodsy, yet somewhat refined scent, and then tried to stop herself from going into a frenzy because of it. “You know you are infuriatingly cryptic.”
“You’re ridiculously nosy.”
Anita winced again. It was the one thing she was afraid of him saying. “You’re an asshole for no reason!”
Bruce let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re just mad the president listened to me and not you.”
Anita glowered at him. “It’s our resolution. He listened to us.”
Bruce scoffed. “Oh please. You lost your cool. You screamed at him like a little girl.” He was looking down at her with his nose upturned, as if she was some sort of pariah.
Everything about this moment, from Bruce’s impossibly alluring scent, to the way that he seemed to dismiss all of her questions and shift the conversation to exactly what was upsetting to her in the first place, made her boil with frustration. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to judge me like you know me.”
“Well you don’t get to inquire into my life like some obsessed private investigator.”
“I am not obsessed.” But her voice shook as she said it.
“Please. You couldn’t resist me if your life depended on it,” Bruce stared right at her lips.
Anita was finding it increasingly difficult to remain angry, to keep herself on the offense. She could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. “Does it?” she muttered.
Before she could even take another breath, he grabbed her face in both of his hands and pressed his lips against hers. She almost immediately melted into this kiss. Her whole body trembled in satisfaction at the taste of his lips on hers. But something was tugging at the back of her mind. She didn’t feel like herself in his arms. She felt controlled and manipulated. It was only then that she realized he was just trying to get her mind off of what she was looking for in the first place.
And that made her angry.
She shoved him off of her, the infatuation in her veins quickly morphing into hot frustration. “Who the hell do you think you are?” The hurt from the last time they had done this still hung fresh in her mind.
“Well, clearly I’m your new obsession.”
The nerve…
Before she could even think about it, Anita threw a punch right into his face. Her knuckles smashed against his cheek bone, the sound of it cutting through the tense are in his office.
He staggered back a couple of steps, holding his cheek. “What the fuck!”
“You will respect me,”
But all of her confidence drained from her when he looked up at her and his face looked completely untouched. Her stomach lurched with fear. Who… what was he?
She decided she wasn’t ready to find out.
Chapter Five
“What an asshole!” Jori yelled a little too loudly. The bartender, who had been vigorously shaking a drink, stopped, turning to shoot both Anita and Jori a judgmental glance.
Anita pursed her lips, and she took the last swig of her third drink, then turned to face Jori. “You don’t think I said that myself?”
“Yeah, well, apparently it didn’t do you any good because he just kissed you again.”
Anita motioned at the bartender for another drink before she turned to look back at Jori. “Yeah. I mean, do you think I’m crazy?” she asked.
Jori let out one humorless chuckle. “Honey, I was there.”
Anita nodded, watching as the bartender refilled her vodka cranberry. “That’s what I fucking thought,” Her words slurred. Her fingers stung as she reached for her glass. “And the weird thing is that he didn’t even look like anything had touched him,” she said, remembering the way he looked back at her, with a face that looked completely untouched.
Jori winced at her. “That is weird.” She took another swig of her corona. “Are you sure you punched him hard?” she asked.
Anita ducked her head, for a second, questioning whether Jori was crazy herself. “Of course! I’m a fucking fighter, remember?”
Jori nodded, her shrill laugh lost in the loud music. “Right. A fighter. Of course I remember.”
“That punch would have knocked a normal person out,”
Jori nodded at her, but her eyes went wide as she glanced over her shoulder. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“Anita. Anita. Anita,” she hysterically tapped on her shoulder.
“What?!” Anita demanded, following her gaze. Her eyes went wide when she caught a glimpse of what Jori was talking about. It was a man at the end of the bar. Even though he was sitting down, Anita could tell that he was tall—six feet, three inches at least. He had what looked like dusty blond hair that contrasted exotically with his tanned skin. His hazel eyes glowed in the dim lighting…. And they were trained right on her. “Holy moly,”
“He’s fucking hot,” Jori whispered into her ear.
Anita gave a frantic nod, then gulped down her last vodka cranberry.
“Easy…” Jori muttered, “Easy…”
Anita nod
ded. “Should I go over there?”
Jori shook her head. “We don’t want him to think you’re the kind of girl to have sex with him in the bathroom.”
Anita shook her head, confused. “Wait. This was supposed to be for fun. What kind of girl am I, then?”
Jori ducked her head, her eyes wide. “The kind of girl to have sex with him, in his house,” she spoke as if the answer was obvious.
“Oh.” Anita was quickly realizing how rusty she was with all of this. “So what does that girl do?”
Jori narrowed her eyes. “Shit, he’s coming over, turn around.”
Anita waited until she saw him stand up and walk over to her to follow her best friend’s directions.
“I couldn’t help but notice you finished your drink.” His voice was silky as hell. Anita had to make a conscious effort not to whimper at the sound of it.
“Would you like to get me another?” she asked in the most seductive voice she could muster.
He smiled. “Sure.” With that, he motioned for the bartender, who almost seemed surprise to find that Anita had snagged someone, and asked her for another drink.
With the fresh cocktail sitting in front of Anita, Jori picked up her drink and stood. “Well, it’s nice to meet you…” Her voice trailed off as she held out her hand.
“Boris…” he replied, shaking her hand.
“Boris,” Jori repeated, before turning to face Anita, “but I’m gonna go dance with somebody.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Anita before disappearing into the thick crowd of people standing around the bar.
“So,” Boris started, sitting next to her. “You come here often?”
“Do you use that line often?” she countered.
He shrugged. “I think we’ve both kind of agreed that this is going to be at least a little bit scripted.”
Anita couldn’t help but to giggle. “I guess you’re right.”
He placed a warm hand on her knees.
Anita couldn’t deny the goosebumps that rose on her body. She wanted nothing more than to have sex with him right then and there. But she needed to keep her libido in check… at least for now. “So, what’s the next line?” she asked, placing her hand on top of his.
He shot her a crooked smile. “Do you live around here?”
Anita smiled at this. “No, but do you?”
Chapter Six
Thirty minutes later, Anita found herself standing in Boris’s living room. His house looked a little upturned, with boxes stacked up the wall and piles of things just sitting around in the corners. “Are you planning on moving?” she called.
“No!” she heard him yell from the kitchen. “I just moved in,” he added as he emerged from the short hallway, carrying two wine glasses.
She nodded slowly. “Right…” As she took her glass of wine out of his hand, she couldn’t help but feel at least a little bit nervous about this whole situation. She had done this in the past of course, but not since her engagement broke off and… Well, she was a little rusty.
He placed a hand on her cheek. “Your skin is radiant.”
Anita could feel the blood rushing to her face at the compliment. “Thank you.” But those words barely got out of her mouth before he kissed her. It was like scratching an itch, satisfying a craving, sending her in overdrive. He broke it off if only to take the wine glass out of her hand and place it safely on the coffee table. With that settled, he sat on the couch, dragging her down with him. She mounted him, sitting on his lap with her legs wrapped around his torso. His lips practically attacked hers, his tongue pressing into her mouth with a determination that only made her want him more.
She clutched his back, her fingertips pressing into his muscles, her nails scratching at his skin. A grunt slipped out of his mouth as he slid his hands around her chest, his fingers tracing the sides of her breasts, wandering leisurely until they got to the hook of her bra. He deftly opened it, and Anita sighed as the constricting piece of clothing loosened. His lips found their way to her neck, sucking on her skin. Through all of this, she could feel his teeth brushing against her.
She slipped her fingers under the hem of his shirt, peeling it off and discarding it behind him. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his washboard chest, the skin providing a beautiful cover for his muscular body. She ran her finger over every curve and ridge, the warmth between her legs growing more and more intense.
As she did this, he finally unbuttoned her cocktail dress and as it slid down to her waist, she wasted no time letting her bra slide down with it.
He raised an eyebrow at the sight of her breasts, the nipples pointing right at him. “These are magnificent,” he murmured as his lips folded into a crooked smile.
Anita giggled, taking his head in her hands and guiding it towards them. He grasped them with his hands, his little massage driving Anita into a frenzy. She wanted him, needed him, right then and there, and the fact that he had just begun licking her nipples only intensified her desire. “That feels sooo good,” she whispered as he continued to suck on her breasts.
In one lithe movement, she climbed off him and proceeded to unbutton his pants. He helped her with it, deftly peeling them off. When she stood up to watch him slip off his boxers, her dress fell down to her ankles. She was naked except for her panties, but oddly enough she didn’t feel the least bit exposed.
Boris eyed her up and down, licking his lips. The glow of desire in his eyes was enough to make her climax right then and there. He beckoned for her, his arm lazily outstretched.
She took his hand and mounted him once again. He was about guide her on top of him, but she stopped him. “Condom?”
“Oh…” He hastily nodded as he reached over her to his discarded pants, rummaging through the pockets until he retrieved a golden magnum packet.
She raised an eyebrow at this. She had never been with a man who needed condoms that big.
It excited her.
In the next moment, he had slipped it on, and then her on right after. A slow, ecstatic breath slipped out from between her lips as she felt herself accommodate him. She could feel her sex shuddering with him inside of it. Anita bit her lip, her breasts bobbing up and down with her movements.
He turned his head up towards hers, so she leaned down and kissed him, their mouths sloppily slapping together in all of the moving. He took her butt in his hands, clutching her and smacking at her flesh with his hands.
“Oh God, I’m gonna come!”
Her eyes went wide, for she felt as if she had only just begun. Her lips folded into a frown as he continued to thrust up against her, until his thrusts got faster and harder, until a dramatic grunt flew out of his mouth and he violently shuddered. He then went limp beneath her.
She let out the obligatory sigh of fake satisfaction before climbing off of him. “Okay, well, that was fun,” she muttered as she immediately began to put on her clothes.
He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, she assumed to clean himself up. While he was gone, she finished dressing and stood around awkwardly, waiting for him to come back so that she could take it upon herself to leave. As she stood there, she heard subdued screaming coming from outside. With a furrowed brow, she made her way to the window and looked out.
Boris lived on a somewhat quiet street, but as she peered out of the window, she could just spot some light coming from around the bend
“I’m not sure you’ll be safe going home tonight… What with the riots and all,” Boris said as he entered the room.
Anita turned to face him. “Oh, I think I’ll be fine,” she replied. The last thing she wanted was to spend a semi-sober night with the complete stranger that was supposed to be a confidence boost at best, as childish as that sounded.
He narrowed his eyes at her, disbelief etched across his features. “There could be looting…”
Anita scoffed as she reached for her jacket. “Trust me, I have seen many a protests here in DC. You might have just moved here, but you will quickly find that this is just
a fact of life.” She felt much more secure and ready for the world with her outerwear on.
Boris nodded as he crossed the room to meet her. “Well, I guess this is goodbye?” he asked, holding his arms open for a hug.
Anita gulped, but went in for it anyway. He planted a kiss on her cheek that made her almost certain that the next thing to come out of his mouth would be,
“So, can I have your number?”
Anita gave him a tight smile, and the prepared answer set to ward off potentially distracting relationships followed. “I work at the White House. I promise you, if you call there, you’ll find me.”
Boris nodded slowly.
As Anita turned to leave him forever, she wondered if she’d miss him in the light of day. Once outside, the screaming and shouting got much louder. There was the sound of tires screeching on the asphalt, rocks and stakes being thrown at windows. She sucked in a deep breath, part of her wishing that she had not decided to go it alone, but a bigger part of her determined not to go back, so she sucked in a deep breath and kept going, her stint with Boris making her more certain than ever to that she had completely cleared her head of her Bruce obsession. She would focus on her UN resolution and the riots. She was Anita Rhodes, and it would take a billion Bruces to bring her down.
Epilogue
Anita was in the thick of things, surrounded with anger and fire. Everywhere she turned, there was another news van, another cameraman, another reporter fearlessly screaming into their microphones. As she turned another corner, she found herself on the police-side of a blockade. Bodies were pressed together. She pushed past shoulders and arms, muttering her “excuse me’s” until she reached the barrier.
“Ma’am.” She turned to find a police officer staring down with a stern expression on his face.
“I just need to get home,” she began to button up her coat.
He shook his head. “Honey, I’m sure you don’t want to go to the other side.”
Anita turned to find a throng of people holding weapons and signs, screaming back at the police. She leaned, pushing herself past the bodies in front of her.