by Claire Adams
I sat once more, peering down the dark hallway that I knew led down to the Oval Office. Figures at the other end of the hallway—all the way toward the president’s living quarters—appeared. The woman had draped her arm over her husband’s. They didn’t speak. Rather, they held their faces forward and walked like a massive animal—all of their parts lining up so well.
I nodded to myself and leaned back toward my computer. I knew it was Camille and Xavier. I knew that all was right in the world, that this was where I was meant to be—that they were where they were meant to be, as well.
Life would go on the way it was meant to.
Chapter 3
The day swept by quickly. I received several emails from across the country and had a Skype call with a woman from California who would be greeting us on our next campaign trail. I met with Jason in the small office in which he’d initially shown me those horrific photos all those weeks ago. We talked about normal things, but all the while, I sensed a sort of humor about him—like he knew precisely how much power he had over me, like he knew that he’d altered the course of my life with just a few clicks of his spy cameras. Check. Mate.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to California with the president, do you?” Jason asked me, his face a bit shiny with grease, with acne. His eyes were filled with off-beat humor.
I frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, Jason,” I calmly. “I’m the campaign manager. I’m obviously going to California with the president to oversee all the events and keep him on track.” I shrugged. And then, I leaned forward. “And if you think there’s anything still going on with me and the president, you’re sorely mistaken.” My breath was lined with hatred, with anger. I scowled at him.
But Jason just laughed. “All right. But you do know that we’re that I have the ultimate power over you. Right?” He smirked at me. “Otherwise, I can bring out a few of those photographs.”
I stood up quickly from my chair across from him. “Are you ever going to grow up?” I hissed at him, shaking my head. “Fuck you.”
I spun around, feeling haughty. I felt like I couldn’t turn anywhere without being accosted by something, without someone propositioning me. Both Jason and Xavier were like brick walls before me that I continually banged my head against, hurting myself over and over. But I saw no sign of release, I saw no sign of help. I sighed and pushed into the breezy hallway, hearing the laughter from Jason in the room behind me.
Everywhere I looked on the walk back from the small office, I felt like people’s eyes were on me, like they were watching me. I felt my heart constrict in my chest. Suppose—suppose they suspected something? Suppose they knew that I was sleeping with the president? Suppose they knew that I was essentially under Jason’s thumb, without any control? I cleared my throat, ready to attract some people’s eyes. But no one looked up, like I was invisible or something. I shivered.
I sat at my desk and tapped my fingers against the wood, feeling incredibly foolish. I watched as Jason sauntered back into the room. His shirt sort of poked out around his belt. So unkempt, I thought; what a goddamned mess. And yet so organized that he could actually get the better of me. Incredible.
The terror of my life was escalating around me. I felt like I was losing grip. I couldn’t even go back to my beautiful apartment—the apartment I had worked so hard to get, to organize, to decorate. The apartment that felt so dirty now.
I looked down the hallway and saw that Camille had just exited the Oval Office. She looked arrogant. She was all elbows, with this short, pixie haircut. She nodded to the Secret Service agent and then stomped down the hallway. I wondered what sort of discussion they’d had. I wondered if she knew he was having an affair, if she could smell it on him like some women could. I remembered that the man I’d slept with from Congress had had a wife. She’d suspected, he’d told me. She’d known just from the happiness about him, from the jaunt in his step. “We’re meant to die unhappy,” he’d said, stroking my back in bed. His hair was course on his chest.
I tapped my fingers: one, two, three, four, five, as I watched Camille storm into the other side of the house. I thought of her husband—a man, I realized then, who I’d come to believe was far more mine than anyone else’s. Was I okay with sharing him? I wasn’t sure. I felt the rage billow through me; I felt that I should absolutely dart down the hallway and take advantage of this one thing in my life that gave me joy, that gave me an escape from everything else continually going to shit.
Xavier. Xavier.
Even his name was so sensual. I was always so worried about us, about what was going to happen if people found out. But I knew that Xavier didn’t have these fears. So why was I so eternally befuddled with this problem? Why was I running away from the only thing that made my heart brim, made my lips smile? Why was I falling away from it?
I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, and I tried to listen to my heart for the first time in my all-too-professional life. I felt the beats course through me. This was a bad situation. But I had to take advantage of it. I had to feel his dick inside me once more. I had to be a part of this.
I had to follow this pleasure down the White House rabbit hole, certain that I’d never come back for air.
Chapter 4
I tapped the long rod against the board behind me, explaining the campaign to a few of the team members. “We have to assert to the American people our sure and steady comprehension of education, of readying American children for a better future.” I nodded my head, gazing at each of the team members’ assertive eyes. They were each ready to go into the campaign world and take over, make something of themselves. Truly, I was rooting for them.
Suddenly, I felt a shadow pass over the back of the crowd. My eyes darted up, and I found myself eye-to-eye with Xavier. I hadn’t spoken with him in several days, and just his presence in the room seemed to make my entire body shake. I raised my eyebrows. “Any questions?”
A man in the front row raised his hand. But my eyes were still drawn toward the president. I wanted him to speak.
He brought his hands together, then, after a long, terrifying, full-of-tension pause. He clapped loudly, allowing the echo to course through my spine. “Amanda. That was a beautiful presentation.”
Several of the campaign team members nodded their heads in agreement.
“With a team like you all,” Xavier continued, moving next to me. He brought his hand behind my back, almost too low. I smiled, unsure, knowing what he was risking. “I don’t know how I could possibly lose.” He winked at us all, and a few people laughed. “Now! Back to work.” He barked these words with a grin on his face, bringing an overall sense of calm to the area. The people on the team knew who they were working for; they knew that he was a good, kind-hearted person—a person who’d worked the past three years, fighting tooth and nail with congress to pass some of the most essential bills in our country’s history.
I spun toward him, blinking wildly. I placed my hand on his and removed it from my back. “How are you, Mr. President?” I asked him. I could feel Jason’s eyes on us from across the room, but I didn’t care. “I see you’ve been quite busy lately. You haven’t been answering my emails about the campaign.”
He raised his left eyebrow—the one I liked so much. I felt my stomach flip. “You know how I feel about boring emails. Let’s get it hand-written next time.” He winked at me.
I laughed. “My, my. You’re quite the old man, aren’t you?
He shrugged his shoulders. He leaned toward me and I nearly felt his lips against my ear as he whispered. “Come to my office this afternoon. I want to talk to you about the campaign.” He winked at me as he drew away.
My face had already turned an incredible, beet red. I scratched my head. “Okay,” I whispered.
I sauntered back to my desk and scribbled something—a few spare words—into a notebook. I could still feel Jason’s eyes across the room. Finally, the burning became too much. I lurched my head up, and his eyes wer
e filled with vitality. He was bringing his fingers together like an evil conqueror, considering his next plot. I bit my tongue and tasted blood. This terribly dressed man could ruin my life.
I was simply his pawn, ready to do his bidding.
But I stood, knowing I needed to meet the president. I paused at Jason’s desk. Jason still peered up at me, his lips curling into a smile. “I have to go to the Oval Office,” I stated to him with authority. I looked down my nose at him in his chair. “Is there any sort of message you’d like me to pass on to the president?”
Jason tipped his head to the right. “Just don’t be too loud in there,” he stated, his eyes wicked.
I wanted to stomp my feet, to tug at my hair. I wanted him to leave me the hell alone. But I knew I held no real power over him. So I nodded my head. “I’ll recommend that you take on some new responsibilities or something?”
“Whatever you feel is right,” Jason stated, shrugging. His eyes looked so bright, so happy. What evil coursed through that man?
But I brushed it from me as I walked. I remembered that just the previous day I’d been so sure that my mind and my heart could find happiness, that I could go with the flow—at least for now—and take advantage of this truly mind-altering situation. I remembered his body over mine, almost like it was fiction I’d spun in my head.
I greeted the Secret Service agent and he opened the door for me, his face stoic. I wondered if they talked about me—the other woman.
I shivered.
Xavier sat in his chair on the other side of his desk. He smiled at me as I entered, and I bowed my head toward him. “Xavier. It’s been a moment since we spoke,” I stated. I felt the strained cordiality coursing through my throat.
He gestured toward the chair before him. I reminded myself to enjoy my life, to make my life all it could be. I swallowed and sat, crossing my legs. I tipped my head to the right, coyly. “What matter brings me here?” I asked him. I didn’t ordinarily ask him these questions. We ordinarily didn’t speak like this didn’t work hours.
Xavier brought his hands out before him and gazed at his long fingers. They held nothing. His wedding ring glinted on his left hand. “I try to meditate,” he said then. “I try to make my mind come clean, to not think about anything.”
“How is that working for you?” I asked him, swallowing. I tried not to laugh, not to smile.
But then, a smile stretched across his face. “It’s not working at all, Amanda. I can’t get you off my mind. Not for a single second.” His word were low and quiet. He shook his head and leaned toward me, over the desk. He reached out and grasped my hand. I held his, running my thumb over his skin. He sighed. “What are you thinking about?”
In that moment, I realized that we’d been thinking about the same things. We’d been thinking about each other, about us—as a couple. I swallowed and shrugged my shoulders. “Everything. Nothing.” I swallowed. “And mostly you, I suppose. Just you.” My voice was raspy.
Our eyes met across the table. I leaned toward him. Our faces were inches apart, and our whispered were easy, direct. It was almost like we were talking to each other in bed. I told him the events of the campaign team that day, what we’d accomplished. He told me about his business meeting with the governor of Washington State. Our words were easy, laced with a serious comprehension of the political world. But always, beneath us, we were linked. We sat, hand-in-hand.
Finally, after many minutes of political talk, he stopped. He bit his lip, and his eyes peered into mine with such a question about them. “You know. I had a wonderful time the other night.” His voice rose at the end, as if he were trying to get a feel for what I thought about the evening, if I’d had a good time as well.
There was no question; it had been one of the best nights of my life.
I nodded slightly, feeling my hair drape around my face. I swallowed. “It was magical, Xavier,” I whispered. Even as my heart panged in my throat, I knew that it was right; this was what I wanted. I wanted to ride out this wave of feeling and reach the other side—even if the other side was death and destruction, a complete loss of my career.
Xavier nodded. He leaned closer and brought his free hand to my face, bringing his fingers through my brown, luxurious hair. “And I want you to know that I hear you—I hear your problems with what I said. I understand why you panicked. I can’t just leave my wife. Not yet. I don’t want to scare you off, certainly. This is all I want. This. What we have. Right here.” He leaned closer to me, and he kissed me, catching my lips with his. I felt the sunlight emanating in from the great window on his other side. I sighed, feeling my pussy pulsing beneath me. I wanted him so bad. But this moment in the sunshine, this moment in which he told me that he wanted me, that he was willing to wait for me—was beautiful enough.
The stress seemed to fall from me so easily in the wake of the news that Xavier was going to wait to tell his wife, that he was going to respect my wishes. I shivered as I pulled away from the kiss. My passion for him was growing, even as I felt that we were in a car that was about to ride over the cliff and into the ocean.
“See me again soon,” Xavier whispered to me. I thought of all the things on his mind—about the way he was meant to take over the world, about how he had so much riding on his shoulders. And all he wanted for relaxation was my company, my body. My conversation.
And so I nodded. “If you play your cards right, Mr. President. I think we can make that happen.” My voice was light. I stood up and removed my hand from his. I bowed my head and turned back toward the small door in the middle of the wall, hidden in the oval curve. I opened the door and closed it, feeling like I was removing myself from an arena of comfort.
The rest of the pulsing, crazy world—that’s what I had to worry about.
Chapter 5
I tapped down the hallway, moving my shoulders this way, then that—feeling like a luxurious version of myself. I continued to imagine having sex with Xavier once more, and the titillating thought of it seemed to make my entire body burst with energy, with life. I almost laughed at myself, blushing.
Suddenly, I burst around the corner and found myself face-to-face with Jason. That weasel. I stopped short. My face turned red and angry. I pressed my lips together and didn’t say anything. I just blinked at him, wishing I could smack his fat cheeks.
He was eating a granola bar, allowing the crumbs to fall all over the floor. My stomach turned at his gross image. I cleared my throat.
“I see you’re arriving back from your little meeting with the president. Didn’t last very long, huh?” Jason asked me. He took another bite and I listened to him chew.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I suppose so.”
“What happened in there? Too explicit to say?” He smiled at me. I turned my head to the right, then the left, making sure that no one was listening in on our conversation.
I hissed at him. “Can you keep your voice down? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, okay? I had a meeting with the president about the campaign. We talked about our trip to California. Okay? Are you happy? What the hell.” I shook my head and breathed deep. I felt such a fresh, vibrant stream of energy. I could conquer the world, if I wanted to. Just not Jason.
He just laughed at my rising anger. He took another bite, and then he spoke through the crackling granola. “Say, Amanda. I was wondering where you’d been the past few nights.”
My heart dropped into the acid-rich pond of my stomach. I blinked my wide eyes toward him. “I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered. My eyes glanced around me once more.
He laughed, tossing back his head in that menacing way. His fat neck shook to the left and to the right. “I think you do. You haven’t been in your apartment lately. I know this, of course.” He winked at me.
I felt like crying. He was actively spying on me, every day. “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.” I retorted. The anger was coursing my body. I couldn’t stop my tongue as I pushed the words forward, into the wor
ld. They came out hissing, snake-like. “And if you don’t stop spying on me, I think you know what’s coming for you.” My threat hung in the air between us like a cloud.
He tapped his toe lightly and tipped his head to the right, brimming with good humor. “Is that right? Well. What is it you’ll do? Please. I want to hear it. Tell it to me straight.” He brought his lower lip out and bobbed it at me, like a child.
I swallowed. “I’m going to inform the Secret Service that I found bugs in my apartment and that there has been a breach in security.” My blood was boiling. “Don’t even think I won’t.” I brought my finger into the air and tapped it first to the left, then to the right.
But he laughed once more. He brought his hands to his stomach and shook with such a jolly manner. The fat beneath his crooked shirt seemed to jostle. “I suppose you don’t care too much about your true love’s reputation, now do you? You talk and I play show and tell.”
Xavier’s face flashed before my eyes. Up until this moment, I’d thought that everything with Xavier had been resolved. He wasn’t going to tell his wife about us—not yet. And he was going to ease off that pressure, allowing me to take on my career without his assistance. However, for some reason, I’d allowed this shadowed, terrifying part of my life to drape away. I shook my head, feeling my lungs hiccup in my chest. “If you don’t stop—if you don’t stop—“ I said the words over and over again. I felt like I was hyperventilating.
But he just laughed again. He took a step toward me. I thought he was going to spit in my face. He bit his lip and then kissed me on the side of my face. I felt my stomach turn over. “If you ever make good on your promise to go to the Secret Service,” he began in a whisper, allowing the words to course through my body, “I will make good on my promise to ruin your goddamned life. Both your life and the president’s. Know that your problems are always lurking behind your back. I’m always watching you, Amanda.” He lurched his head back and winked at me.