by Hamel, B. B.
Until she’s moving fast enough. I slap her ass and grab her hips, thrusting deep. She gasps, eyes wide.
I take over from here. I fuck her deep and hard, low and slow thrusts. I reach around her hips, rubbing her clit, making her moan. I love this fucking ass, this fucking body. I love the way she pants and groans as my cock fills her, fucks her, makes her beg my name.
I thrust harder. I take her hair in my hand, grip it, fuck her. She starts moving faster, and I can tell she’s getting there.
I pull back, grab her hips. I lead her to one of the couches, some fucking heirloom from Lincoln or whatever. I sit back and let her straddle me, taking a nipple in my lips.
She sinks down onto my cock and rides me on this historic couch.
I grab her hips, helping her work. I can tell she’s starting to sweat, her whole body tense, every inch of her moving along my big dick. I kiss her lips, her neck, her chest. I tease her nipples with my tongue.
She grinds against me, faster and faster, panting in my ear. “Oh, god, Daddy,” she whispers. “I’m so fucking close.”
“Come on my big cock,” I say back. “Make your fucking Daddy proud.”
“Fuck,” she gasps. I slap her ass and squeeze it. She opens her legs wider, grinds harder, faster. I fuck at her rhythm, letting her lead things.
I feel her teeth sink into my shoulder, her hands gripping the back of the couch. I slap her ass again, nice and hard.
She grinds down rougher. My cock’s buried so deep in her pussy, I don’t know where I end and she begins. She moves faster, sweat dripping down her back, as my fingers dig into the muscles.
“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” she gasps. She throws her head back before her whole body tightens.
She comes hard. I keep moving, fucking her through it, grinding against her cunt and clit. She groans, shuddering, shaking. I grab her hair and hold her in place, making her take my cock while she comes.
It’s so fucking sexy. I’ve never seen a woman orgasm with so much expression before, like it’s overtaking her completely. She’s gasping when it’s over, sweat damp in her hair.
I fuck her fast, pushing her over my shoulder. I spread her ass wide, cock slamming into her. I don’t take it easy, I don’t let up.
I’m an animal in the throes of pure bliss.
I come deep in her cunt. I can feel myself spurt into her pussy, thick ropes of it, filling her completely. I’m sweating too, I realize, as I finish and slowly come back to my senses.
She slides down and lies on my chest, my cock still inside of her. We stay like that for a while, my cock slowly softening, although I can still feel a thrum of need.
I kiss her lips gently. “Good girl,” I whisper.
She grins at me. Kisses me back.
“It’s not what the President can do for me, but what I can do for my President.”
I groan. “That was awful.”
“I know. You loved it.”
I kiss her, hold her tight.
I don’t know how long she can stay. We’ll have to get her out before the normal day starts. But right now, I love this. I don’t want this to end.
So I hold her tight and lose myself in the moment, in her breathing, in her body, in her skin against my skin. In being a normal person, at least for a little while.
9
Maggie
I’m back at work the next day, but suddenly the whole office looks… different.
I can’t put my finger on what changed. Roger is still overworked and overstressed, running around like a manic coke fiend, even though I know he’s way too straight-laced to do coke at work.
Iris looks like her normal self and smiles when she catches me staring. “What’s the matter with you?” she asks. “Or am I just that pretty?”
“Just that pretty,” I reply, smiling, but no, that’s not it. Iris is still just Iris.
It takes me the whole day, making calls, collating data, collecting responses from our interns, before it hits me.
I feel comfortable here.
It’s strange, actually. I thought fucking the President in his own residence might make me feel a little awkward about being around government people. Nobody would understand if they found out about this relationship.
Nobody would stand by me.
And yet here I am, feeling comfortable. I should be freaking out, worried that it’ll all come crashing down at any time.
Instead, nothing. I’m at work, doing my job, like nothing happened.
I’m tempted not to look too closely at it. I’m tempted just to be happy feeling comfortable, but of course I can’t help myself.
Because I know why I feel this way. It’s obvious, when I give it a second’s thought.
I’m comfortable because the President took me into his private residence and fucked me harder and better than I’ve ever been fucked before.
And after, I fell asleep in his arms until the early morning.
Of course, I had to be rushed home by the Secret Service before any reporters could catch us, and it worked out fine. But there was a moment in there, when I was just relaxing on his body, and it felt normal.
Like he wasn’t the President. Like we were just two normal people.
It felt so good. Strangely intoxicating.
So I feel comfortable now, like it’s my own living room. Because in some weird way, it kind of is.
At least, it’s his living room, and he wants me to be a part of it.
I work for him. I do my job, and I do it to the best of my ability.
He goes overseas for five days again, and I work through the weekend, collating data about Medicare For All. It’s hard work, and I don’t have much time for anything else, but by the time I’m finished, I have what I need.
Monday rolls around. I’m tired, worn out. Roger looks at me, frowns a little. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod, standing, gathering my things. “Ready.”
We head down the hall together in silence. I think he resents me a little bit, since the President has been giving me special tasks.
It doesn’t matter. Roger’s my boss, but only in a supervisory capacity.
At the end of the day, I work for the President.
For my big Daddy.
We stop outside of the Oval Office. The President’s executive secretary announces us, and we’re let inside by a pair of agents that I don’t recognize.
The room’s full of people. Adam sits behind the desk, looking worn out, but he straightens when he sees me. I catch a glimmer of a smile, but he quickly stifles it.
Charles steps forward. “Afternoon, Ms. Thomas, Mr. Christy.”
Roger nods at me and I step forward. “Sir, we have the data you requested.”
He leans forward. “Let’s hear it,” Adan says, and I dive into the numbers.
They aren’t good.
As I read them, I can see his face falling. People are looking at each other, and I can feel the vibe in the room shifting.
I know MFA is a big part of the President’s thinking right now. But the polling reveals one obvious thing.
People don’t understand it. They think it’s too expensive, too big. They don’t want the government dealing with their healthcare. They don’t want the government telling them what to do.
At least that’s how people see it.
“In the end, education is the more vital part of all this,” I conclude. “People are mainly just confused about what Medicare For All would entail, and they’re afraid of paying more for worse care. They think Canadians are flocking to America for treatment, because their system is so broken.”
I finish with a sigh. I know this isn’t new data, but it’s a much more in-depth dive than I did before, and we can’t deny it anymore.
People just don’t understand it.
Adam clears his throat. “Everyone out,” he says. “Except for Maggie.”
Nobody moves. Charles clears his throat. “Sir, if there’s something you want to say, you can—”
I stare at him, shocked. I can see the anger clear in his eyes. People on the edge of the room start moving instantly, funneling out the door.
Charles glares at Adam. “I know you’re frustrated,” he says softly. “But you should rethink your tone.”
Adam rubs his temples. “Okay, Charles. I’m sorry I snapped at you. But I want to speak with Maggie alone for a moment.”
“It’s not the girl’s fault the numbers are bad.”
“Maybe not.” He sighs. “Give me the room, okay?”
Charles hesitates but finally nods. “Two minutes,” he says.
Roger glares at me and follows Charles out into the hall. The door finally shuts and I’m alone with the President once again.
He gets up and comes around the desk. “More bad news,” he says softly.
“Are you okay?” I ask him. I want to go to him, hug him, kiss him. But I’m afraid.
“No,” he admits. “It’s this job. One stressful situation after another, and there aren’t any victories. Just defeats delayed.”
I frown. “It can’t be all that bad.”
“It’s not. I’m just frustrated.” He sighs, stops in front of me. “I need your help, Maggie.”
“What can I do?”
“Educate people. Or at least, come up with ways to do it.”
“Television ads,” I say immediately.
“No,” he says. “Cheaper.”
I hesitate. “Social media ads?”
“Better,” he answers. “How?”
“They’re inexpensive. We could run ads targeting everyone in the USA with just some text that explains what Medicare For All would be and what it would do.”
“Would people pay attention?”
“Maybe?” I shrug. “I really don’t know.”
He sighs, rubs his temples again. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have snapped at Charles.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “He knows the pressure you’re under.”
He sighs. “I shouldn’t have cleared the room and kept you in it, either.”
I hesitate. “I know,” I say.
He sighs again. Kisses me quickly. “It looks bad. But fine. Come up with an answer and save my ass, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Good.” He glances at his watch. “Better end this now.” Kisses me again. “Before they start talking.”
“I bet they’re already talking.” Which makes me pause. I cock my head, bite my lip. “Talking. What if we called people?”
He laughs. “Seriously? Telemarketing?”
“Yeah, except, we’ll explain the idea. We won’t ask them for anything.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it. The biggest block of people that don’t know or understand Medicare For All are older, and they’re the ones that’ll pick up the phone.”
He hesitates. “Good point.”
“It’ll be cheap and easy. We can get a bunch of interns to make calls, give them a short script.”
“That could work,” he says distantly. “Along with social media ads.”
“We’ll get the word out. Grass roots.”
“One conversation at a time.”
“Exactly.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll run it past my team.”
“Good luck.”
“Now get out of here before Charles loses his mind.”
I grin and turn away. As I head to the door, he says one more thing.
“Thank you for your help, Ms. Thomas.”
I grin at him over my shoulder. “Of course, Mr. President.”
I leave his office, making sure to wipe my face of my stupid smile before I do.
Roger glares at me. The other staff all stare.
I don’t care. I walk past them, head held high.
10
Adam
Charles sits me down in the situation room and clears his throat.
“Adam, if you keep fucking this girl, you’re going to sink this administration.”
I frown at him for a second. I thought we were in here to talk about Pakistan again, since there are rumblings from the local militias and terrorist groups about some kind of retaliation.
But my fucking sex life?
“Not sure it matters, Charles,” I tell him. “I think people won’t care once we’ve done some good for them.”
“You won’t have a chance if you can’t keep your dick in your pants.” He sighs. “Sir.”
I laugh, unable to help myself. “I know it’s a bad idea.”
“Bad idea? Fucking hell, Adam. It’s so obvious.”
“I know, I know. It’s just…” I glance away from him for a second. “I’ve given up so much for so long. I’m ready for a change.”
He grunts softly. “I know you haven’t exactly… put yourself out there, since your wife and son. Since Marci and Travis.”
I flinch at their names. I don’t think their names, don’t read their names. It hurts still, even to this day.
But it hurts a lot less than I expected.
“But you have to realize how important what we’re doing is,” he continues. “We’re doing something real here, Adam. Fucking hell, I’m actually starting to believe in all your horseshit about changing this country and helping people.”
I grin at him. “You sound like a damn radical, Charles.”
He gives me a look. “None of it will matter if you don’t stop sleeping with that girl.”
I stand up and turn my back to him. I stare at the wall, at the blank white, hands clasped behind my back. I look down at my shoes, at their shiny black uppers.
“When Travis and Marci died, I thought I was dead, too,” I say softly. “I threw myself into politics. Everything I’ve done has led me to this point, and now…” I turn to him. I want him to see my face. “Now, with Maggie, I’m starting to feel again. Like a fucking human being.”
He sighs. “You can’t stop, can you?”
“No, I can’t. I’m not going to.”
He meets my gaze. We stand there for a second. I’m half expecting him to resign right here and now.
But he just grunts and stands. “Okay then. I guess we’ll figure it out.”
I nod. “Thank you, Charles.”
He hesitates at the door. “For the record, I’m against it. But… you’re my friend, and if this will help you, god help me, we’ll make it happen.” He gives me a defeated grin. “At least you won’t be the first President fucking someone you shouldn’t be in this damn place.”
I laugh and follow him out, heart thumping fast in my chest. I feel heady, high, stupid with desire and excitement. I spot Ramirez at the end of the hall.
“Get Maggie,” I tell him. “I’m going for a walk.”
He stares at me. “Sir?”
“Now.”
He nods and leaves. I head down a long hall, through a back door, nodding at some guards as I go. I walk along a tunnel through the back of the White House and emerge up at street level, five agents on my tail.
I lean up against an old brick wall and stare at the traffic. Nobody notices me. I’m just another political guy in a suit to them.
The agents spread out, so as to blend in a little bit. I wait maybe ten minutes before Ramirez appears with Maggie in tow.
She looks a little surprised. “Adam?” she asks.
“Come on,” I say, reaching out my hand.
She hesitates but takes it. We walk along the sidewalk, heading toward my favorite spot in the city.
“I just had a talk with Charles,” I tell her.
“Did he say that we can do this publicly?” She’s looking around, worried.
I laugh. “Relax. Nobody’s going to notice us out here.”
She bites her lip. “It’s still a stupid risk to take.”
“Maybe. But it’s after seven and nobody gives a crap about a guy in a suit holding hands with a girl.”
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She sighs. “That’s all we are out here, huh?”
“Yep. Although there are a few creepy men in black sunglasses following a little too close.”
She grins at me, glances at the agents walking nearby.
“Anyway, Charles said he’d support this. Whatever it is.”
She looks surprised. “Really?”
“I think he’s turning into a true believer.”
“No kidding.”
“I know, right? If we can convince him, I think we can actually change the damn world.”
She laughs, squeezes my hand. “You mean, you can change the damn world.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“Just up there?” I gesture with my other hand.
“The Vietnam Memorial?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Huh. I haven’t visited that since… I don’t know. A school trip.”
“I try to go once a year,” I say softly.
We walk up to the memorial. It’s a long wall, sunk down into the ground, with the names of all the men that died in Vietnam. We walk together, looking at the wall, the shining black of its face, the recessed names carved into the stone.
It’ll outlast the both of us, I can be sure of that, at least.
I stop in front of one row. I reach out and run my fingers over the familiar name. “My father,” I say softly.
She frowns. “Really?”
“Really,” I say. “He was a career marine, went to Vietnam when he was a little older. About a year after I was born.”
She’s quiet for a second. I stare at my father’s name, wondering what life would’ve been like had I grown up with a second parent.
“My mother did her best,” I say softly. “She worked hard, took more than one job to make ends meet. She instilled in me the need for hard work, sacrifice. All the values I need now.”
“She must’ve been amazing.”
“She was. Died ten years ago, and I still miss her.”
Maggie leans up against my arm, holding my hand tightly. “Thanks for showing me this.”
“Of course,” I say softly. “I want you to know about me.”
“I want to know about you, too.”
“And I want you to share things about yourself.”