Sixty.

That’s how many days ago I first got the call from the President asking me to go sort out a feud between a small town mayor and the Governor of New York State before it became a big mess. Well, I did something. I don’t know if ‘sorting it out’ is exactly the right word for it.

I’ve taken to not commenting to the Press. I’m not worried about myself. Well, actually, hun, don’t tell anyone, but I kind of am. I’ve never been so reviled in the political world as I am right now. And it’s not just the Daily Journal. It’s like all the media sense blood, and so they’re piling on. Trying to find any angle at all that will sell more papers—or glue more eyeballs to the television or computer screen and raise more ad revenue.

The heart of this matter is pretty simple. Jobs, or the environment. I don’t know how sex became a part of it. But you take any woman who likes sex in this political climate and you place her between two men like Carter and Liam, and the press is going to salivate.

Sometimes I wonder if we just shouldn’t put up a mattress on the corner of Broadway and 42^nd Street and have sex right there. Let the world get it out of its system. Trust me, if I thought that there was a chance it could work to get everyone off of our backs, I’d do it. Because I guarantee you the ethics investigations, the impeachment, all of that would stop. People wouldn’t be whipped into a frenzy anymore. But all it would do would probably be to whet their appetites. They’d want to take close up shots of Liam’s cock going into my pussy. They’d want to see my lips wrap around Carter’s cock. And then they’d paste it all over the Daily Journal and sell more copies.

No, the only way to confront this is going to have to be head on.

Two.

That’s how many men I’ve fallen in love with. I know, hun. You’re shaking your head with a smile at me, aren’t you. Thinking that I need to grow up to fully understand what love is. That I’m 29 years old, how can I even think that I’m in love? Just because I’ve gotten orgasms that leave me breathless. Getting shot into orbit and coming back into a sex haze doesn’t mean I’ve fallen in love, I bet you’re thinking. It means I’ve fallen in lust.

Well, the lust is definitely there. Don’t get me wrong. You know that tingling you get between your legs when you think about a big cock stretching you open? Feeling filled up? The dampness that you feel. How you can feel your panties stick to your lips when you read about or imagine wrapping your lips around the tip of a nice, thick, large cock? As someone grabs your nipples and twists them. Smacks your ass? The drippiness you feel and the flush that goes through your body? How all you want to do at that point is find a quiet corner and just touch yourself, even if it’s one finger against the clit. You just want more of that feeling, but you know you’re headed to the precipice and you’re going to explode the more you push yourself? You know that feeling, babe?

Yeah, imagine that times two. Because that’s Liam and Carter.

But what you don’t see, and what you haven’t really gotten, because Alexis probably hasn’t included it, are those times in the month where the three of us have basically moved into Liam’s sprawling house in New Kingston and really lived together.

How Liam makes us breakfast in the morning. He gives Carter extra bacon. He makes sure to get a grapefruit cut for me. Every. Single. Morning.

How Carter explains the remote to me. I swear to God I don’t understand why there are three. Apparently one for the television. One for the Roku. And one for the sound. It sounds like the entire system was thought up by men, you know? Give it to a woman, and you’d have one remote.

The way both of them hide the newspapers from me some mornings. Or my tablet. As if they don’t understand that I’ve been called a lot worse than ‘The Whore of Washington’. That I’ve gone through a lot more and have thicker skin than they realize. So the prospect of a Daily Journal headline that simply has my picture with the world ‘SLUT’ doesn’t faze me. It startles me. It makes me wonder what kind of a world we live in. But I can move on.

The way, after we have sex, the way both men hold me. But how they casually are able to let the other have me. I’ve never realized how insanely hot it is to let one man watch me as another fucks me. And then they take turns sometimes, watching, desiring, celebrating me.

How it’s gotten to the point where I know what each of them is thinking. How Carter is viewing this as a rational debate that he’s going to win on facts when I know that the system is going to want a sacrifice. Liam understands that. He doesn’t understand that I can see in his eyes he’s preparing himself to be that sacrifice so Carter and I can continue. Carter thinks he’s going to convince the legislators with his arguments. Liam thinks he’s going to bulldoze past them. Their both wrong. And if I don’t do anything, they’ll both end up losing their careers.

But I love them. So I’ve been busy myself.

Thirty.

I know I said thirty before, but this is important. That’s the number of days that we’ve had to prepare to testify in front of the Ethics Committee. The impeachment vote in New Kingston is literally the next day. From the beginning, it all seems perfectly staged to me. As if someone has been working very hard behind the scenes to orchestrate up to this moment. I’m sorry if I feel like I’m throwing out conspiracy theories, babe, but it seems like all of this is falling into place just too easily.

I’ve been working with my staff to sort through it, spending more time at Liam’s place than in Washington. It’s started to affect my regular daily schedule. I haven’t voted since the Senate has been in session and I’ve missed multiple committee meetings. I know there have been important meetings that I’ve missed because I’m tied up here. But I need to make sure I see this through.

Carter and Liam begun by working together, but they realized they were expecting different things. Carter is expecting a chance to give his side of the story. That’s not going to happen. But Liam is expecting a political knife fight. I know it’s going to be a third option. I know there is one piece to the puzzle that I’m not getting.

Ten, Fifteen, and Twenty.

That Carter’s, Liam’s, and my job approval ratings, respectively. Over the past month, our negative opinion ratings have shot through the roof as people start believing the constant barrage from the press that I’ve turned Liam and Carter into corrupt, job-killing, environment-destroying, sex-crazed wretches.

It’s gotten to the point where Liam and Carter have insisted that one of them go with me when I go outside.

I’ve never needed a man to protect me. I’m not going to change that just because a few people are upset at my sex life.

But, the possibilities of having sex in public are too good to pass up. So sometimes I pretend to play the hapless damsel in distress and it really gets them going. You can literally see both their cocks grow hard. I mean, in real time, you see the tent forming in their trousers. It’s pretty amazing actually. Two, thick, 12-inch cocks. That’s like, what? Two feet. Of lust muscle, as Liam calls it, inside of me? Can you imagine how hard it is to get anything done with those two men walking around shirtless in the house?

One.

That’s how many days we have until the Ethics Committee calls Carter and I to testify. I’ve been working and my staff has been getting me information round the clock. I know I’m close to figuring out what’s going on to cause this whole thing. I can sense I’m getting closer. I just don’t know where or when I’m going to hit the jackpot.

Ten.

That’s how many minutes ago I got a phone call. I can’t tell you from who just yet, hun. I know, I’m sorry. You’re really not going to know even if you skip to the end, so don’t even try. And don’t try now just to spite me. I know I’m stubborn like that sometimes too. Just know that I’m going to go out for a while.

Don’t tell Liam or Carter if they ask, either. I think I might be on to something. But I’m not sure yet if it’s legitimate. I need to head into the city. And the last thing that Liam and Carter will be happy with is me going into New York City by myself without any security. But I’ll be fine. I’ll put on some yoga pants, a windbreaker, and some shades. No one will recognize me.

I’m borrowing Carter’s Jag, in case he asks. Just move to the next page and pretend you didn’t see me leave, babe. Please. Their careers—my career—may very well depend on it.