by RWK Clark
She left the restroom area through the hordes of women around her, her heels clicking on the tiles of the floor loudly for a place with so much noise. She made it into the main concourse, where she had disembarked, and looked around for her cameraman Oleks. He had gone to relieve himself as well, and now they needed to gather their bags and find a taxi as soon as possible; after all, they were to meet DeSai at the White House in three short hours and they still needed to check into their hotel.
She took her cell phone out of her bag and turned it on, then looked around the area directly in front of the men’s room and in only a few moments she spotted the young man looking dazed; he was looking for her as well, and all the people had the poor idiot confused. She made her way toward him waving her arm and calling his name; finally she captured his attention, and a look of relief spread over his face as he wormed through the crowd and headed to meet her.
Right then her cell rang. Rasia stopped and looked at the display. It was the same number DeSai had called her from earlier! The man was indeed determined, and this gave her much to consider. It could be information that would work in her favor in the end, for sure. She was onto the new American president, little did he know. She silenced the phone and dropped it into her bag before turning her attention to Oleks.
“We need to get our bags and other equipment, then get a cab to the hotel as quickly as possible. We have no time to waste, so you head for the baggage carousel and I will meet you there in a moment; I am going to call the hotel to double check on our reservations,” she told him, and off he went. She stepped out of the main line of traffic and made the call; all was ready and waiting for them.
By the time she was finished making her phone calls she spotted Oleks coming toward her from the baggage carousel. He had all the bags they had checked, and the big oaf was juggling them very nicely. She smiled to herself. See, men had some kind of purpose after all.
The hotel had informed her that the reservations she had made for their rooms were put on hold by none other than the President himself. He had paid for two rooms for a total of three nights. While hearing this made her blood boil she kept herself under control. She would simply get the interview and then head back home with Oleks; she didn’t care what DeSai wanted. This was her game, and it would remain hers alone.
When the two stepped outside the first thing she saw was a single limo situated amongst the fleet of taxicabs. DeSai had even presumed to send transport! Rasia took Oleks by the arm and steered him away from it so he would not see her name on the large white card the driver was holding. They would get a cab anyway.
It took no time to obtain a cab, as taxis were lined up along the curb at the main entrance. Within a half-hour they were standing at the desk at the hotel, where Rasia was informed once again that the bill, and all charges, were to be covered by President Cyril DeSai. They need not even show a credit card or identification.
She was impressed with her room, as she was sure Oleks would be, but her shallow little mind could not help but wonder how much better things would be in one, five, or ten years. Surely, if things went her way, they would be even better than this. She unpacked her bag, as they would stay three full nights and enjoy the area a bit, and once she was finished she changed her clothes. For the interview she chose a pink satin collared button-down blouse, a brown fitted blazer with pink pin stripes, and a matching pencil skirt. She joined this with a pair of brown and pink heels and her signature scent. She wore her waist-length red hair up off her neck in a very sophisticated style, and once her makeup was fresh she stood back and looked in the mirror.
“Knock ‘em dead,” she told her reflection with a satisfied sneer.
After meeting Oleks in the corridor they headed to the lobby, where the exact same limo and driver was waiting for them, courtesy of Cyril DeSai. This man is really on top of his game, Rasia thought. She realized the driver was probably given a description of her, maybe even shown a picture. It pleased her to think that he watched her snub the ride he was there to provide. She wondered what the President had thought when he received a call telling him that she and her photographer had gotten into a cab at the airport. She hoped he had been as annoyed as she was regarding his calls to her phone.
“The President, Cyril DeSai, welcomes you to Washington, Ms. Engres. Shall I put your bags in the trunk for safekeeping?” He was very prim and proper, but he was sure to greet her with a smile. Neither his voice nor the look on his face said anything about her rejection at the airport.
She smiled stiffly in return. “Yes, that would be perfect. Oleks, you can board on the other side of the vehicle.”
Her young cameraman jumped and then headed to the door on the driver’s side of the limousine, which he soon disappeared inside of. Rasia waited for the driver to open her door for her. She was going to make them all work for whatever it was DeSai was aiming to get. May as well take advantage of the good things in life, especially when it is free. Life is way too short as it is.
Once inside the limo the driver put up the glass divider and proceeded to make his way out of the chaotic driveway area. Rasia didn’t skip a beat. She began to look through the wet bar, and finally chose a small single serving bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon by Cliffside Wineries. After sampling its aroma for a moment her eyebrows raised; not bad at all. She was impressed, and she was also glad she had brought breath mints.
Oleks reached for the bar himself, and Rasia slapped his hand as though he were a toddler trying to get a cookie. “Use your brain, moron. We’re going to meet President DeSai. I need you on your toes at all times.” Oleks cowered back in his seat and began to pout as he stared out the window of the limo.
They reached the White House at twelve-thirty. Rasia had anticipated all kinds of red tape regarding being granted entry, but the Secret Service men who met them in the underground garage didn’t even bother to search their belongings; they were simply escorted into the main house by the men, who seemed to be anxious to deliver them to the Oval Office.
She and Oleks walked between the two men during the stroll, and as they made their way into the heart of the president’s home Rasia turned to Oleks, and with a sneer said to him, “You realize I’m on my way, don’t you?”
∞
Cyril DeSai was nervous. He could not remember the last time he was aware of actual nerves, but they were sharp today. He was even fidgeting. He had been notified when Rasia and her cameraman arrived, and he knew that they were on their way to him, even now. It didn’t help that he felt like a schoolboy regarding having called the woman’s cell twice. What had he been thinking?
They were still five minutes from arriving when his nose picked up her luscious scent, and it caused him to groan; he even got an erection from her smell, and had to rush into the bathroom and douse himself with cold water to control the thing. There was seriously something about this woman, something… tangible. He knew deep inside of him that Rasia was the one. Never before in all his centuries had he such a violent reaction to the presence of a female.
He was just closing the bathroom door when the knock came. He straightened himself out quickly and strode back to his desk. It would not be acceptable to let Ms. Engres see him so shaken. No, not acceptable at all.
He had dressed just for her on this occasion. He wore traditional black, but his suit was cut with Asian styling, and he wore a blood red satin tie. It was his favorite color, after all.
“Enter, please,” he said. He never used the word please; he viewed it as weak, but he thought it was a nice touch today.
The door opened and the Secret Service man who had opened it stood to the side and said, “Rasia Engres and Oleksandre Vanderflute, Mr. President.”
DeSai made his way toward them, his hands extended in a warm, welcoming gesture. He made a point of taking the hand of the fresh-faced cameraman first; he had already appeared overly anxious. He was determined to control himself around Rasia Engres from then on. Now Cyril took notice that her escort was no mor
e than a boy. As a chaperone he only filled a third seat, intruding on potential privacy. Certainly he was good for nothing else!
“Mr. Vanderflute, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance,” DeSai began, taking the young man’s right hand in both of his own. “Thank you for coming. I hope you have found your accommodations to be comfortable and pleasing.”
Oleks flushed. “Yes, Mr. President,” he said, his voice trembling. “They are quite beautiful, thank you.”
With that nonsense out of the way Cyril turned his attention to Rasia; his stomach jumped inside of him. She was ten times more beautiful than he recalled from their brief and distant encounter during the press conference. DeSai had to force himself not to freeze up; he was smitten! He took her hand in both of his and raised it to his lips, and he planted a soft, gentle kiss there.
“Ms. Engres, it is my pleasure to see you again.”
Rasia was satisfied. Yes, this was more than an interview to this man; his eyes were on fire for her. He was the ‘one’, and he would make an easy target. If she did this right he could take her further than she ever imagined.
She pulled her hand firmly from his grasp and, hardening her voice ever so slightly, said, “Likewise, I’m sure, Mr. President. Now shall we get down to business?”
With that he offered them two seats, and they sat, Oleks getting his gear ready and Rasia preparing a hand-held recorder. She was cold and about as far from him as any woman he could ever remember. She was a conquest; she was perfect.
Cyril DeSai would never be the same again.
Chapter 20
“What would you like to drink?” Cyril asked as they shuffled around. “On the table before you there is about every beverage imaginable. Please, help yourselves.”
Rasia looked up and offered him a tight smile. “President DeSai, acquiring the presidency of the most powerful and abundant nation on Earth must be quite an achievement. How do you feel now that you are in office?” asked Rasia Engres.
DeSai smiled at her. She was a tough one, and here he was, feeling like a nervous adolescent.
“It is invigorating. While I am aware of the weight of the responsibility I now hold I am also aware of all of the great people I am surrounded with, and together I am confident that I will serve a highly successful term,” he replied.
She nodded vaguely. “What state are you from?”
“I was born in France; my parents were French winemakers, as were theirs before them, and theirs, so I come from a long line of vintners. My ancestors all hail from France,” he said. “Where do you originally come from, Rasia?”
She made eye contact with him briefly and then ignored the question altogether. “Your administration seems to have rallied behind you like none in the past have managed to do. What do you attribute this to… sir?”
He immediately noticed her hesitation at the use of this formal address, and he could smell the defiance in her attitude. It made her more striking than ever, and once again his erection began to grow; it pressed uncomfortably against the fabric of his silk trousers. He was glad to be behind his desk.
“I attribute it to the fact that I treat each and every individual in this administration as if they were my family. I do not see in black and white, so the silliness of parties is a waste of time, in my opinion. We are all human beings here, are we not?”
Oleks had stood and was taking a series of rapid shots, moving around the room to get varying perspectives. DeSai had completely forgotten that the boy existed. Rasia, on the other hand, found herself more thankful than ever for his presence. She was putting on a good show, but DeSai had her full attention. Her heart was even pounding a bit, but she maintained a rigid façade.
The interview continued in this way for two full hours. While it seemed that Rasia Engres was trying to trip him up, she was really just getting to know him, putting up her antennas for any weak spot he may have in his confident armor. While Cyril appeared confident and self-assured, his hands were trembling beneath his desk and he was using them to control his unruly penis.
At the end of the interview both Rasia and Oleks began to pack up their equipment, and it seemed to Cyril that she was going to slip through his fingers once again. She showed absolutely no interest in getting to know him personally, but he, on the other hand, could not erase the vision of her from his mind.
“Mr. President,” Oleks said, speaking for the first time since the interview had begun, “Where is a restroom that I could use, please Sir?”
Rasia’s eyes flashed toward the antsy cameraman, and it did not escape DeSai’s notice. He turned to Oleks, smiling pleasantly. “Of course, of course. Just go left into the corridor. You will find it past the main staircase, about five doors down.” Cyril kept the knowledge of his own personal facilities to himself. This was an opportunity to sneak a moment with Rasia.
Rasia’s eyes followed the man as he left the office. “Hurry back, Oleks. I am ready to return to the hotel and work on writing this piece.”
When Cyril realized that it was her full intention to leave immediately he jumped into action. “Ms. Engres, your room is covered for the next three days, and we could take care of it for a longer period, if you like,” Cyril said, controlling the eagerness in his voice just barely. “You should spend some time in the city and visit some of our sites. I would be thrilled if you would allow me the pleasure of showing you around,” Rasia stopped packing her attaché case and looked him in the eye. “I have been to this city many times, Mr. President.”
“Yes, Ms. Engres, but I am sure there are things I could show you which you have never before seen.”
Their eyes locked and he felt the fire; it was tangible and wholly intoxicating, and he knew by the look on her face that she felt it too. He had to act fast. “We could have an early dinner now, or cocktails, and simply chat.”
She resumed packing, not answering him immediately. He didn’t push her, but when she was finished she met his gaze once again. When she finally spoke he could detect the slight strain in her voice from controlling her own tone.
“We may take you up on that. What did you have in mind?”
He thought fast. “Well, I know that you like to have Mr. Vanderflute in your company, so I am willing to have him along. We could eat at a wonderful little steak house I like to frequent; we would have the entire place to ourselves. Afterward, or even before for that matter, I could take you to my winery, Cliffside, and give you the grand tour. I think a woman like yourself would appreciate all that can be gleaned from such a business.”
It was as if DeSai had known what the magic words would be; Rasia had a passion for fine wine, and fancied herself somewhat of a connoisseur. “When did you want to do this… sir?”
How he loved her stubbornness. She would need to be taught to submit, but he would have an eternity to teach her. He replied, “When is a good time for you? We could do it tomorrow, and the two of you could have dinner here now before you leave.”
Already DeSai had one of his finest females arranged for Oleks, for when they did finally return to their quarters. She simply needed to get him while he was away from Rasia, but Rasia was proving to be tougher than he thought she would be. He had attempted to mesmerize her with his tantalizing power, with his eyes, but she would not give. It seemed she was immune, and this sparked an even greater love and desire than he had thought possible within him.
“Hmmm. We could eat here. Where should we store our things?” She was beginning to melt just a little, DeSai thought.
He quickly responded by pressing a button on an intercom unit on his desk. “Mr. Lamb, would you please come and take Mr. Vanderflute’s and Ms. Engres’ bags into the main coat room? They will be taking their meal with us.”
In what seemed like seconds there was a light knock on the office door, and a young man with a bit of acne entered the office. He took the bags they handed him, bowed slightly in DeSai’s direction, and left.
“Your staff seems very dedicated to someone who
is a newly elected official, Mr. DeSai. You must be very good to them,” said Rasia. The power he had over those around him was obvious to her. The behavior they demonstrated before this man was not simply respect. No, it was… worship. Like a slave to a master…
He smiled a genuine smile at the journalist. “As I have said, they are family to me, and I make sure they know it.”
The three made their way out of the office, and Cyril DeSai led his future queen and her post-adolescent cameraman in the direction of the dining hall.
∞
The White House chef had prepared a succulent meal, as always, which included an appetizer of crab and scallop cakes with a jalapeño tartar, a simple dinner salad, grilled swordfish in lemon butter served on a bed of angel hair pasta, steamed green beans with sesame, almond, and parmesan, and seasoned roasted red baby potatoes. For desert he had prepared banana bread pudding with white chocolate sauce.
They all ate together in silence initially. It was not until the dinner salad was served that Cyril overcame his nerves and started the conversation. Rasia was evasive and Oleks was bumbling before him. He knew he must take matters into his own hands and get the ball rolling while he had a chance.
“Rasia, is your family in Kiev?” Cyril began things by staying basic. It wouldn’t do to scare her off now.
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “President, I don’t typically share much about myself during professional meetings.”
Cyril kept the smile on his face but he was beginning to see the inside of his being. “You know, dear, not more than ninety minutes ago I was telling you all the graphic details of my life, and you cannot share one?”
Rasia took notice that his smile remained, but there was an undertone to his voice that did not match. A chill ran up her spine; this man had used a tone of slight authority with her! Never had anyone ever really dared to do that, and it was very alluring to her indeed.