“All I want you to do is to consider a fresh start,” VP Bass said as we made our way down the West Colonnade. “We’ve all gotten off to a rough start, but it’s time to mend some fences and get things done for the American people. Let’s focus on legislation that most of us agree on. Like green energy jobs for the American people, infrastructure projects that are long overdue. I’m even willing to see if I can persuade some Republicans to push for more restrictions against the big banks. They are squeezing the pockets of the middle class, and it’s time to loosen the grip.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I’m in agreement with you too, and I’m all for a fresh start.”
“Great. Because if you are, I would love for you to join me for a surprise visit on Capitol Hill today. It’s time for you to reach out to congressional leaders again and let them know you’re willing to work with them. You won’t be able to get through to everyone, but maybe your visit will prompt some individuals to join with us.”
Andrew quickly chimed in. “I think this is a great idea, but let’s keep in mind that the president currently has a sixty-two percent approval rating. Congress’s approval rating is below fifteen percent. They are the ones who need to do more reaching out than he does, but in no way will this initiative on the president’s behalf do him any harm. If anything, it will improve his status.”
“It will improve mine too,” VP Bass said. “But either way, something like this could benefit us all.”
I was skeptical, but I also knew that I couldn’t sit in the Oval Office for the rest of my term, dishing out executive orders.
“Count me in,” I said to VP Bass. “All I need to do is return a few phone calls, and then we can make our way to Capitol Hill.”
With a smile on her face, VP Bass entered the Oval Office with me and Andrew. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll meet you on the lower level within the hour.”
That was the plan. And after VP Bass left, Andrew stayed to inform me that he would have Sam reach out to the media.
“I would like for the press to join you on Capitol Hill too,” he said. “It’s good for your image, and you can also take questions. As a matter of fact, why don’t you and Raynetta sit down for an interview this evening? The two of you have been getting along rather well, and the American people always like to see and hear what the first family has been up to. You can discuss your visit to Capitol Hill, share some of your future plans, and help remove some of the fear regarding our shaky economy. What do you think about that?”
I nodded, feeling as if an interview would do no harm. “That’s fine with me. I’ll let Raynetta know before I leave. She’s been busy this week, but I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Sounds good. I’ll tell Sam to prepare his statements for the press briefing today. We’ll request that Chris Potters from CNN do the interview. He’s a well-respected guy in the media, and his show has millions of viewers. In reference to the first lady, we need to discuss a replacement for Claire. I apologize again for recommending her. I had no idea that she would turn out to be such a disgrace.”
“I’ll speak to Raynetta about filling that position, but leave it as is for now. I’m more concerned about finding my son, and I don’t want anyone to know that he may still be alive. I have no idea how I’m making it through all of this right now, but knowing that there is a chance for us to be face-to-face with each other is giving me hope.”
“As long as you’re president, your strength will continue to be tested,” Andrew noted. “There is a reason why you’re here, and the timing couldn’t be more right. Try to enjoy yourself on Capitol Hill. I’ll see you when you return.”
Andrew exited my office. Before I went to Capitol Hill, I called Ina to give her an update. She didn’t answer her phone. I then returned a phone call from the director of National Intelligence, and after speaking to him for fifteen minutes, I contacted Raynetta to let her know about the interview. She was with Alex, at a luncheon for survivors of breast cancer.
“We have an interview this evening,” I said. “Just wanted to prepare you for it, and tell you that I love you.”
“I love you too, but you know how I feel about interviews. I just hope someone with good sense will be conducting it.”
“Chris Potters will be the man. Are you good with him or not?”
“I like him. He’s reasonable. What do you think?” she said.
“He’s okay to me. And as long as he doesn’t step on my toes, I won’t step on his.”
Raynetta laughed. I let her get back to the luncheon and then prepared myself to make an appearance on Capitol Hill.
* * *
Hours later, I returned from Capitol Hill, feeling pretty good. Things had gone better than expected. So much so that the VP and I found ourselves locked in a pleasant conversation while on the Truman Balcony.
“I told you it wouldn’t be that bad, didn’t I?” she said. “I think we’re on the right track, and we must take advantage of what happened today.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, but to be honest, we both know why some of our congressional leaders are eager to make some moves. Midterm elections are not far away, and nobody wants to be booted out by their constituents.”
“I’m sure that is the case too, but I see it all as progress. I’ll follow up with you later this week. Enjoy your interview tonight. I’ll be watching. And for the sake of God, please be on your best behavior.”
We both laughed before VP Bass departed. It was my intention to be on my best behavior tonight. Before I did anything else, I went to my bedroom to change clothes. I put on a dark blue blazer with a light blue shirt underneath. My black slacks matched my leather shoes. I avoided a tie altogether. I brushed my waves, which were sharply lined, and then dabbed aftershave on my cleanly shaven face. Just as I was getting ready to tighten my belt, Raynetta entered the bedroom.
“I’m not late, am I?” She hurried to her closet.
“No, but you only have about thirty minutes to get dressed. You can wear what you have on. In my opinion, you look just fine.”
Raynetta turned and stood in the doorway. The white and tan dress she wore fit her body like a glove. Not one strand of her hair was out of place, and the high heels she wore made her look real sexy. I repeated that I had no complaints.
“Are you sure this is okay? I really don’t have time to change, and you know it takes a while for me to decide on something else.”
I walked up to her, eased my arms around her waist. “I said you look fine. And if we had just a few extra minutes right now, I would show you how much I mean what I say.”
She placed her arms on my shoulders while looking into my eyes. “Maybe we should let Mr. Potters wait. I’ve been thinking about you all day, and there is something about the cologne you’re wearing that just turns me on.”
“I was hoping that it takes more than my cologne to turn you on. Tell me about something else, and then I may consider pushing the interview back about an hour, maybe two.”
Raynetta liked my suggestion. She told me and showed me something else when she unzipped my pants and carefully held my heavy meat in her hands.
“In addition to the cologne, this right here really gets me riled up. I love the way it feels, and just between the two of us, the taste of it is very satisfying too.”
“Since your taste is much sweeter than mine, why don’t we start there?”
I unzipped the back of Raynetta’s dress, and after she wiggled it over her hips, it hit the floor. She stood there in a sexy pink bra and sheer panties that revealed her precious goods. I couldn’t wait to serve myself, so I moved her onto the bed, where she lay back and opened her legs. I maneuvered myself in between them, and as she unhooked the front of her bra, I removed her panties, then tossed them over my shoulder. My hands latched on to her firm breasts; my mouth found her sweetness. She moaned loudly and squirmed on the bed as her body caught fire from my touch. Her nipples were rock hard as I massaged her breasts, and her pink pea
rl stiffened more with every delicate lick. Her sugary taste was every bit of what I expected it to be; it was a crime for something to taste this good. I savored every bit of her—my wife, the love of my life.
“Y-you are always so good to me,” she said, trying to calm herself by taking deep breaths. “And as much as you do this to me, it always feels like this is the first time.”
Raynetta lightly rubbed the back of my head, and as her legs began to quiver, she lifted them up in a wide V. Her juices rained on my tongue, and as I slurped her fluids into my mouth, she secured her legs around my head. Her grip left me unable to breathe, and when she loosened it, I was eager to get out of my clothes and resume from another position. I positioned my steel between her healthy cheeks, then carefully separated her slippery folds from the back. The feel was so on point that we both moaned simultaneously. I expressed how much I loved moments like this, and in return, Raynetta communicated her love by delivering an orgasm that soaked us both. I couldn’t do anything else but return the favor. My semen poured into her, and with each rhythmic stroke, the sound of our fluids mixing together echoed in the room.
Raynetta screamed loudly while laying her head on the pillow. “Without a doubt,” she said, “I’m the luckiest woman in the world! How do you make my body react to you like that? I don’t know how you manage to get all of that out of me.”
I eased out of her to see the wetness covering me. “Don’t give me so much credit. Needless to say, we do work well together.”
I lifted Raynetta off the bed, and as she straddled the front of me, I carried her into the bathroom so we could shower. It took longer than expected, and by the time we were finished, it was an hour or so after our scheduled interview time. I called Andrew to let him know that we would join Mr. Potters shortly. We hurried to change into casual clothes, and with glee in our eyes, holding hands, we made our way to the Blue Room, where the interview was expected to take place. As soon as we opened the door, we found Mr. Potters waiting with his crew.
“Sorry we’re late.” I extended my hand to him, then shook his hand. “Something came up at the last minute.”
“No problem,” he said with a smile on his face. “Whenever an opportunity comes along like this, I don’t mind waiting. I thank you and Sam for reaching out to me. It truly makes me feel important.”
That was what they all said, but either way, Raynetta and I were ready to do this. We both seemed to have a lot of energy, but no one needed to know why.
“I have to say this,” Mr. Potters said as the interview got under way. “The two of you make a lovely couple. The first lady is simply beautiful, and in person, you have such a warm and likable spirit. I’m not excluding you, Mr. President. You’re very likable in person too. But why do you think that so many Americans misjudge you?”
“First of all, I’m not attacking the media, but some of the things you all say and do are outrageous,” I replied. “I am who I am, no doubt, but the media will play snippets of things I say and do without revealing the whole picture. In defense of the media, I think every person can be misjudged, if you haven’t had an opportunity to meet that person. The American people I’ve met seem to understand me better than the ones I have not. Hopefully, during my term, I’ll have an opportunity to meet as many people as I can.”
Mr. Potters nodded. “That would be great. It was also a good thing that you visited Capitol Hill today. Many of the senators referred to your visit as a huge step in the right direction. Some even went as far as to call it a success. Then there were others, like Senator Peterson, who said you were wasting your time. He said that working with you on your agenda would destroy our country and that he would never contribute to any legislation that is in line with your vision for the American people. What do you say to Senator Peterson or to any senator like him who feels that way?”
“I refuse to say what I want to say on television, but I will share my thoughts with Senator Peterson and any other senators who share his views. What I feel is sorry for them. They will lose big in the midterm elections, as I am confident that the American people have had enough. If you don’t believe me, just examine the polls.”
“I have, and they tell us that there are plenty of Republican incumbents who are in trouble ahead of the midterm elections,” Mr. Potters noted. “You, however, have not only the Democratic Party on your side, but there are a substantial number of Independents who support you too. Do you believe that by this time next year, you’ll be able to hold on to that support or grow it? After the honeymoon stage is over, most presidents sink in the polls. Why wouldn’t that be the case with you?”
“My honeymoon stage has been over for a while, but that could very well be the case with me,” I answered. “My question to you is, who cares? I certainly don’t make decisions based on the polls, and it would be foolish of me to think that I will remain a popular president throughout my entire term. That’s not how it works.”
“No, it doesn’t, and it seems as if you’re catching on quickly.” Mr. Potters chuckled, then lifted a newspaper that featured pictures of Raynetta during her visit to McDonald’s. He smiled as he looked at her. “The other day, these photos were on the front of almost every major newspaper. It looks as if you were having a great deal of fun. But why McDonald’s? We’ve never seen a first lady at McDonald’s. Is that one of your favorite restaurants?”
This time, Raynetta laughed. I thought it was a stupid-ass question, and from the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face, I could sense that Mr. Potters was leading up to something. What, I didn’t know.
“No, it’s not my favorite,” Raynetta said politely. I wondered if she could sense the bullshit coming too. “But even though it’s not, plenty of people love McDonald’s. We were in a rush that day, and that’s where we wound up going. People were surprised to see me, and needless to say, I had an amazing time. As for the other first ladies, we are all different. They did their thing, and I will continue to do mine, make my mark and be me.”
Mr. Potters ignored her last statement. “I’m sure those kids will remember that day for the rest of their lives. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has ever said anything harsh about you. There are, however, rumors that you and your mother-in-law despise each other. Are those rumors true, and what would make anyone not like you?”
I really didn’t want Raynetta to answer those questions, but she went for it.
“My mother-in-law and I get along okay. She’s just very protective of the president, her son, and I totally understand that. I step on her toes sometimes, but when all is said and done, we’re family. We love each other, and nothing will ever change that.”
If only that were the truth, I thought while waiting for Mr. Potters’s next question. We delved into some of the executive orders I’d put in place, then touched on national security, the lack of support for our veterans, and immigration. Even talked about race, and I didn’t hold back on discussing the divisions within our country. We were just about ready to wrap it up when Mr. Potters started traveling down a path that I didn’t approve of.
“I think that history will recognize you as being a fairly decent president who kept many secrets. Many presidents kept secrets that their wives weren’t aware of until their husbands were completely out of office, and maybe you fit in that category. I started this interview by saying what a lovely couple the two of you make. You inspire many couples, but what kind of message are you sending, Mrs. Jefferson, if you allow your husband to have his cake and eat it too? I mean, he has admitted to being unfaithful to you before, and we all have seen photos that indicate to us that infidelity issues exist. I just wonder why a woman of your stature stays committed to him. Some people may say you’re naive, but what do you say to the hundreds and thousands of women, especially African American women, who have cheating husbands? Do you encourage them to stay in their marriages?”
I was so shocked by this fool’s comment that for a moment, all I could do was sit there, speec
hless. Raynetta had been holding my hand, and I felt her get real tense. She also appeared shocked, but as soon as she opened her mouth, I spoke up.
“I simply do not understand why you muthafuckas always have to pull a rabbit out of the hat. This is crazy, and every opportunity that you are given to belittle the black man, you assholes take that shit and run with it. Then you try to make it seem like the white man can do no wrong. But we both know better, don’t we, Mr. Potters? This interview is done, and if those cameras are not off in five seconds, the American people will witness me get up from this chair and beat your ass.”
In an instant the cameras were shut off. Mr. Potters sat there with a surprised look on his face. He spoke as if he hadn’t done or said anything wrong.
“I . . . I asked a legitimate question that I thought some people would want to know the answer to. A lot of first ladies have faced questions like this, and I only wanted an explanation for these pictures.”
“What pictures?” Raynetta said, looking at what was in his hands.
“These pictures. They were taken a few weeks or so ago, I guess. I’m not sure,” Mr. Potters explained.
I wasn’t sure who or what was in the photos until he handed them over to Raynetta. She looked at them one by one. All I could do was shake my head and release a deep breath. The photos showed intimate moments between me and Michelle. Not only during dinner, but inside her hotel room as well. I could tell that someone had taken the pictures from across the way, and it wasn’t a pretty sight for Raynetta to see me lying naked in between Michelle’s legs.
Raynetta straightened the photos, stood, and then gave them back to Mr. Potters. “I hope and pray that you weren’t about to share those photos on live TV. And if you were, shame on you. To answer your question about why I stay, I’ll tell you what stupid people like you think and what you all want to hear. It is because the president has a big penis and his mouth works wonders. I am guaranteed multiple orgasms during sex, and nobody screws me like he does. Quote just that on your show, especially if you believe it to be factual. Or you can quote the truth, which has to do with so much more than love. The truth, which I wouldn’t waste my time sharing with a person like you. But I am positive that there are plenty of women, from all races, who can share with you their own personal reasons for staying. Have a good evening, Mr. Potters. Thanks for being just another clown.”
Trouble in the White House Page 17