Authors: Claire Adams
I
began dipping the bread and vegetables in the cheese. I lifted a piece of bread
toward Xavier’s mouth, and he chewed it gladly, closing his eyes. “God, that’s
good,” he murmured, licking his lips slightly.
And it
was. The cheese sort of molded over my mouth in this initial creamy, gooey
texture. The cheese was stinky—French. Which linked so well with our movie.
“
An American in Paris
,” Xavier declared
as the movie began—that old, 1940’s classic. My mouth opened, and I started
laughing, cackling a bit like a young girl. I couldn’t believe this was my
life.
“They
probably watched this movie in this very theatre, all those years ago!” I
whispered to him, turning toward him. My eyes were big. “Thank you, Xavier.
This is the most beautiful day.”
“You
make me very happy, Amanda,” he whispered then. “I want you to know that.”
The
movie took off from there, and I leaned onto Xavier’s shoulder, getting caught
in the magic of that faraway day. I imagined us, briefly, as husband and
wife—traveling through Paris, through Rome. I imagined us gazing off into our
future together, creating a life together that we made up as we went along. It
was beautiful, so freeing from this stance at the White House. Constriction was
everything, here.
Suddenly,
I felt Xavier’s arm around my shoulder. He leaned down to me and whispered in
my ear. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
Confused,
I furrowed my eyebrows and followed him toward the side room of the theater.
An American in Paris
continued his
twirl, one twirl after another beneath the Eiffel Tower. The magic of it made
my skin glow.
Xavier
stopped before a long, blank wall. It was conspicuous, since so many walls in
the White House were adorned with decorations. “What is it?” I whispered to
him.
And he
reached up, then, and grabbed a small latch. He tugged at it slightly, allowing
his muscles to tighten. And then, he pulled an entire bed from the wall.
My jaw
dropped. He controlled it steadily, allowing the massive, king-sized bed to
fall to the floor. It was made perfectly, with these silky, gleaming sheets. I
sighed and laid on it, nearly on accident. “Wow,” I breathed. “What is this
magical place?”
And he
laid down next to me, stroking my face with his fingers. “You’re the most
beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he whispered. His eyes looked so lazy, so
sexual. I leaned toward him and caught his lips with mine, instantly making my
pussy so wet, wanting him so bad.
He
pushed me on my back on the mattress, then. He began to unbutton my dress, one,
two, three, four—all the zippers. My breasts bobbed from my bra and he caught
his mouth around the nipple, tapping his tongue against it. He tugged my tights
from my legs, leaving me completely naked on the bed before him, even as he
continued to stand in his perfect, presidential suit.
“Stand
up,” he whispered.
And I
did. I stood up on the bed as he stood beside it. He brought his hands around
and caught my ass with his fingers. He tugged my pussy toward him and stuck his
tongue inside it and then on my clit, pumping it against me and making my back
arch, forcing my breasts to the sky. I called out, and grabbed his hair. And
still: he wouldn’t stop. He put me through so many levels of pleasure, of play.
Right when I was about to come, he pushed me back on the mattress. I grabbed my
pussy with my hand and fingered myself roughly, with such sexuality, feeling my
juices flowing as he undressed himself.
“Get
on your hands and knees,” he said then. I allowed him to enter me from behind,
and I wrapped my hands backwards, around his neck as he fucked me this way. I
called out, imagining that the entire White House could hear us fucking, could
hear this wall bed slamming around.
His
dick was so wide, so hard, and it penetrated me precisely, creating
unbelievable pressure. I sighed and allowed his hands to wrap around my
breasts, squeezing the nipples so hard. My screams came in small spurts now. My
mind was a rolling mess of ecstasy.
Then,
he pulled himself away from me. I placed his dick in my mouth—rest for him,
rest for me. And I rubbed my tongue against the baby-like skin, loving the way
his face changed as I blowed him. I allowed him to rub my clit as I did it, and
with every lick, I let out a long, high squeal. This man: this man was
everything.
He
caught his hands around my cheeks and watched me do it for a moment, watched
the way my soft mouth held his wide dick. “God, baby. This is too good,” he
murmured. “God, this is good.” His words were simple and his face was so
youthful, so pure.
I fell
back on the bed, then—on my back. I opened my legs wide, showing him my
pussy—so deep, pulsing before him. And he clambered over me, sticking his dick
so deep inside of me, I could feel the physical passion of it deep in my spine.
My nails inverted themselves into his back, and I called toward the ceiling. I
felt tears fall from my eyes. I felt like the world was ending, but it was all
happening at once.
He
fucked me like this for a moment, allowing his eyes to penetrate mine. We were
on the precise same wavelength in that moment; we were the only two people who
had ever existed on the earth. Certainly, he’d never felt this with his wife.
Certainly, I’d never felt this with any other person. My thoughts were nowhere
else. They couldn’t belong to anyone else. They were solely rooted in his body,
in his mind.
He
jolted into me over and over. He grabbed my tits and he whispered in my ear.
“Baby. I’m going to come.”
And I
wanted him to. I felt his dick pulsing in me, like it was the end of something.
I clutched his shoulders and told him it was okay. That this was his only
chance. And he shoved himself in me with one voluminous crank.
He
came all at once, allowing his eyes to open wide as he did it in such shock.
The pleasure of it seemed to roll through me and force my pussy to feel, to
know. I felt the orgasm begin in my clit and then move toward my brain, forcing
my eyes wide open to meet his. We came all at once, like this: facing toward a
future that we couldn’t comprehend. This was our life, now. This was our
forever.
But it
could only last so long. We laid together on the satin sheet bed for several
moments without talking. We held hands in the center, both of us just listening
to each other’s heart beating as we breathed. The ceiling up above us seemed
lined with cracks, and momentarily, I was very worried that the entire building
was going to come crashing down.
I
whispered to him, then. “What’s going to happen to us?”
He
leaned over on his elbow and blinked at me, his face so open. “What do you
mean?”
I
caught his lips in mine, still feeling my pussy so wet for him, wanting more.
Perhaps later? I chugged forward with my words. “I mean. What’s going to happen
to us? We’re so—you’re so…” My words were cascading from my mouth. I wanted to
tell him I loved him again. That was the only thing I could think of, in that
moment.
Luckily,
he did it for me. He kissed my nose and smiled that perfect, tooth-filled
smile. “Baby. I love you,” he whispered. “And we’re going to get through this
together. I promised you a good future, without even knowing this was going to
happen. And I still mean that.”
His
words seemed so sure, so trusting. I bit my lip before telling him a very
quiet: “I love you too.” But then, I remembered Rachel’s words. How could I
actually love him if I didn’t respect him enough to carry my problems, to help
me through this terrifying event in my life. I in haled slowly and closed my
eyes.
“What
is it?” Xavier asked me, folding my hair over my ear. “What’s going on?”
But a
single tear had emanated down my cheek. “Um. Xavier. I can’t—I can’t live
without telling you this anymore.”
Xavier
laughed, almost half-heartedly. I think he could tell something was really
wrong. “What is it?” His thumb traced my cheek, and I wanted to stay together
like this for the rest of my days.
But I
knew that Xavier would help me; Xavier would get me out of this mess. Perhaps
he would even put Jason in jail—or send him off to Bora Bora. Whatever! As long
as he and his photographs were out of my life, not sure to ruin my entire
existence, my entire career.
I
swallowed. “Okay. It’s a doozy. Are you sure you’re ready?” I asked him. My
eyes blinked wildly.
He
nodded. “I’m ready,” he whispered. He winked at me, even, warming me up.
Assuring me it was okay.
“Okay.
Do you remember the first time we did this—the first time we got together?” My
voice was so meek, lacking any sort of certainty.
He
nodded, grinning. “How could I forget.”
“Right,”
I whispered. “Right. But what if I told you—you weren’t the only one who knew
about that rendezvous?”
He sat
up on his elbow, now—higher. Alert. “What’s that?” Clearly I wasn’t telling him
anything he wanted to hear. “Someone knows about that time? About us being
together?”
I
nodded, feeling another tear course down my cheek. Suddenly, I was so worried.
But I’d already come too far to turn back—I’d already given him too much
information. I swallowed. “It’s just. Someone was spying on me for some
reason.” My voice cracked.
Suddenly,
Xavier was up. He sat upright on the silk sheets. Nothing on his face
illustrated that he’d just had the most pleasurable, beautiful sexual
experience of his life. He blinked. “Please tell me. Who was spying on you?”
His voice sounded so presidential, so curt. I wanted to run away, to take it
all back. I wanted this to be beautiful again.
I sat
up, as well, feeling like an alien in my own body. “He put the cameras around
my apartment,” I whispered. I felt my tongue lolling around in my mouth. “He
put cameras in my apartment, and they—they ruined everything.”
“Who
did this?” Xavier asked again. “I don’t have time for this, Amanda. This needs
to be dealt with.”
This
was all wrong; it was going all wrong! I knelt my chin down to my chest.
“Jason. Jason did this. He—he wanted to take advantage of me, to know what was
going on in my life. He sensed that we were seeing each other.”
Xavier
didn’t say anything for a long time. I suddenly felt like we were strangers.
“He’s
taking advantage of you?”
I
nodded. “He—he makes me—he controls me.” But already, the words were losing steam
as I watched the anger grow in Xavier’s eyes. He righted himself on the floor
and reached toward his clothes, shoving his muscled legs into his black suit
pants.
“I
don’t know why the fuck you didn’t tell me about this before, Amanda. I hired
you to be my campaign manager. You’re supposed to be my fucking eyes and ears
out there. You aren’t supposed to be the problem.”
My
eyes grew wide with the words. Suddenly, he’d transitioned into being my
employer; he was reprimanding me about my job. I tucked the silk sheet over my
breasts and blinked at him, feeling like a very small child. “I know,” I
whispered meekly. “I know.”
“But
you don’t know,” he continued. His voice was loud, and it echoed throughout the
small space. Faux bedroom. “You don’t even fucking know how to clean this up. I
knew better than to fucking hire a new girl, twenty-nine years old when
everyone else was better qualified.”
The
words stung. I righted myself, blinking wildly at this man—this man I had
thought I could love. But suddenly, he stuck his hand out to the right, toward
the door. The finger led me there. “Leave, Amanda,” he retorted, without giving
me a chance to explain myself. “You must leave.”
I
grabbed my clothes and rushed out, naked, feeling the tears rush down my face.
In the movie theater,
An American in
Paris
was still playing, and it gave me such a false sense of security as I
hurriedly pulled on my clothes.
Beneath
the Eiffel Tower, they danced on and on. Meanwhile, I rushed from the White
House, feeling like Cinderella, after the ball.
POWER #4
Chapter 1
I
tossed myself into the night, away from the shell of the White House. I felt my
tears riding hot and heavy down my chest. The president’s voice seemed to echo
in my head. His words: “I knew better than to fucking hire a new girl,
twenty-nine-years-old when everyone else was better qualified,” were ringing
and ringing in my ears. God, those words. They broke me in that moment.
Everything I had thought I’d worked for had been taken from me. The president
had reduced me to his sexual object—the woman who would ultimately ruin him.
Why
had I told him, anyway? I had wanted things to be beautiful between us, and yet
this was what I ultimately got. I got mistrustful glances and angry retorts; I
was spurned from his bed and shaken out into the cold world. I wrapped my coat
around my shoulders and hailed a taxi, knowing I looked like a crazy woman. The
yellow car coursed up and I swept into it, shivering wildly. I told him
Rachel’s address, knowing that my own address was completely out of the
question. I couldn’t allow Jason to see me cry. I couldn’t allow him to eat his
Doritos and watch the true emotion wretch from my body.