I swear, I don’t even need an alarm clock to wake up most mornings. Most of my friends swear that they need a couple of minutes to snooze, or a solid 8 hours of sleep. Not me. A good five hours and I’m good to go. Hell, I could probably do with three. Or less.

Like last night. I think I may have finally passed out after the sex at around 3 am. I look over to the clock.

It’s 6:45 am. I always wake up at 6:45 am. So what is that? Slightly less than four hours. I can live with that. I won’t be draggy and tired all day. Besides, it was worth it. Sex is always worth it, in my opinion. It doesn’t have to always be toe-curling sex. It can be regular sex, or even sometimes bad sex. It depends what you end up doing with it. It’s like a movie. Even if it’s a bad movie, only rarely do you stop watching it. Or reading. Even if it’s a bad book, you usually finish to the end. I mean, sometimes you just DNF, but that’s not this book, is it? Because you only just met me, hun, and let me tell you, I think you’re going to like the ride I get to go on.

Anyways, back to the sex last night. It wasn’t the best. The guy, what’s his name? I forgot.

I look over to my right. He’s sleeping peacefully. Poor baby. He must be worn out. See, his cock was too small for me. I think it was only about four and a half inches. I swear—no lying. I was actually pretty intrigued. I asked him how big his cock was at the bar he picked me up at when I was having a drink after the Senate adjourned for the day, and he had told me it was ‘big enough to make me scream’.

I guess he meant scream in amazement because when I saw it a few hours later in my apartment, while I did feel a bit cheated, I was also really intrigued. Instead of kicking him out, I told him if he put on two condoms (to maybe make his cock bigger?) and gave me head while I read the latest Simone Sowood book on my Kindle he could fuck me afterward.

He was so grateful I wasn’t kicking him out he did exactly what I asked. That’s right. The guy next to me is a lobbyist for some group or another. Mr. Big Bad Lobbyist, thinking he’s going to go run for Congress. Too bad he has a baby dick and that Alpha Male façade just crumbles like nothing else when faced with a real woman. Like you or me—he can’t handle us.

Seriously, babe. I’ve dated a lot of guys. I’m not a slut; I don’t indiscriminately sleep around. I always want to go with the Alpha. I’ve done billionaires, CEOs, actors, Senators, Congressmen, Mafia lords, highlanders, princes, hell—even a guy claiming to be a fucking dragon.

At the end of the day, two things will happen with any of these so called bad boys or Alpha Males. First, I will crush their spirit because they won’t be able to keep up with me. They’ll end up becoming Soccer Dads, with beige shorts driving a minivan. That’s after they trade in their motorcycle and leave their MC. Second, I’ll get bored with them. Because they couldn’t be man enough to handle me.

It’s a curse, hun. I wish I weren’t so confident. But what can I do? I grew up like this. I’m the youngest Senator in the history of this country at 29 years old. I know I look good; I have blonde hair to my shoulders, I stay in shape by working out every day, I know my boobs look okay and my ass is still perky. I’m a hard worker. I graduated at the top of my class from Princeton and never looked back. When my friends were getting married, I was working. When they were going on vacation, I was working. And look at where it got me; I’m now the junior Senator from New York State and chairwoman of the Senate Commerce Committee. I have an apartment in Washington D.C. at the Watergate Hotel and an apartment in New York City on 39th and Park Avenue. I don’t have billions of dollars, but enough paid speeches to Wall Street banks and the NRA have left me with hundreds of millions of dollars. I can survive on that.

Sure, I grew up wealthy, in a well-connected New England family. We summered in Cape Cod and lived on Beacon Hill when I was growing up. But like any New England family, I was always told that everything I would ever get in life I had to earn. If I didn’t work, I wouldn’t receive any benefits.

No one owns me. Not even a political party. I watch all these supposedly powerful men, out there peacocking and posturing for the camera. They’re all crippled because the parties have them by the balls. I told the Democrats to fuck off a while ago. Then I did the same to the Republicans. I’m an American. That’s my fucking party, babe.

But I’m also a woman. And I’ve just woken up. And I don’t have to pee, so that makes me horny. I don’t waste any time but slowly nudge the lobbyist whose name I can’t remember awake.

He slowly opens his eyes. He looks at me and smiles sweetly.

"Good morning," he says slowly.

"Babe," I tell him, "I need you between my legs."

He blinks a few times, and I give him a lascivious smile. That should get the blood pumping to the right areas. I could go down on him and get him hard, but I’m not really in the mood. Plus, with four and a half inches, how would I go about finding his cock?

Apparently, my smile is enough for him. Men are so easy to fucking manipulate, and within seconds, he’s moved his head down and begun kissing around my folds.

I close my eyes. It’s not super good, but it’ll get the job done. Kind of like buying the generic cereal at the store and not the brand name. Sometimes you just need to budget so you can spend your money on other things.

I pull up my phone and start looking through my emails as Mr. Big Bad Lobbyist starts to lick my clit. My eyes close and I shudder. It does feel good. I let myself go for a bit, enjoying the sensation.

That’s when the phone rings. I sigh. I look at the iPhone as it continues to vibrate and I wonder for a second if I should pick up. It’s an unlisted number. Or maybe just put the vibrating appliance down below too, help out this poor man whose lapping at me now, teasing me and stimulating me, sending small shudders up my body….

Oh look, I got lost in my train of thought and forgot to pick up. Oh well. I keep my eyes closed and bring a hand to my tits, teasing my nipples. It’s too much to ask this guy to take charge. Once you take the reins from the man, they’re loathe to give it back.

And then the phone rings again.

It was an unlisted number before, but this time there’s no mistaking the Caller ID.

It reads: The White House.

Right, so I should probably pick that up.

"This is Vivian Hawthorne," I say into the phone. Mr. Lobbyist tries to lift his head to see what I’m doing, but I have enough dexterity that I’m able to use his other hand and push him back down between my legs. His tongue rubs and presses hard against my clit. I shudder in pleasure.

"Senator Hawthorne, please hold for the President of the United States," the White House operator says into the line.

I hold. This isn’t my first call with the Big Man. Rather, I spread my legs out a little bit more. I need to make this quick.

"Viv?" comes the voice of the boisterous Texan on the other end of the line. "How you doin’, doll?"

I sigh. The President has a way about him that makes you roll your eyes but melts your heart at the same time.

"I’m good, Mr. President, what seems to be on your mind this morning?" I ask into the phone.

Mr. Lobbyist keeps at it, and I can feel the first of the muscles in my body begin to tighten. Is it me, or is the fact that I’m on the phone while I’m getting head turning me on even more than normal. I may not have cum as easily, but something about this is doing it for me.

His tongue continues to lap at me, pressing, flicking, and squeezing my clit. I shudder. It’s good now.

"Say, Viv, I need your help, and because your technically Independent…" the President begins but I interrupt him, trying to talk through the sex haze.

"I am an Independent, sir," I say into the phone. I switched political affiliation from Republican to Independent a while ago. Before that I used to be a registered Democrat.

"Right," the President says. "Well, your unique nature in the Senate can be of help in a sensitive situation."

"Ooooohhh?" I ask, my voice catching as I feel a finger and a tongue now rubbing at my clit. I’m going to cum soon. I can’t stop it. The fires are spreading. I’m starting to go numb in my toes. It’s like this man’s tongue is operated by batteries or something. Oh God, it feels so fucking good. Fuck.

"I have a small problem happening in New York, and since it's your state, I was hoping you could take a look. It looks like Governor Carter, with his environmental legislation that he just passed is running into some trouble," the President says and I have to say I’m barely able to comprehend. My mind is burning with pleasure at the sensations I’m feeling.

"Apparently the mayor of New Kingston, I think his name is Liam Jeffries—and if he sounds familiar it’s because all the papers call him America’s Mayor and he’s the youngest or something at being mayor ever—just got a foreign company to open several factories in the town. Bring back 10,000 or so jobs," the President continues as I thrash my legs in sweet pleasurable agony. "This flies smack in the face of the Governor’s environmental bill and I don’t have to tell you it sets us up for a pretty ugly fight between red states and blue states, Viv."

I’ve slipped past the point of no return and I can feel my body begin to have that delightful seizure as my muscles clench all along my body.

"So if you can go down there and help them negotiate this out, it keeps the Federal government from making a bad situation worse, you know?" he asks me. "Have you ever dealt with either the Governor or the Mayor?"

"Oh yes!" I scream out in pleasure. I feel a fire of pleasure travel across my body and I tighten my legs around Mr. Lobbyist. Momentarily, I forget myself. When I come to, the President is still talking and I’m breathing hard.

Wait, what did I just say yes to?

I’ve never met either man. I’ve been in Washington most of the time. My staff has most likely dealt with and pretended to know and like both men, but personally, I can’t even remember what either looks like.

"Good, so maybe you have a shared place to pick up with them," the President is saying.

"Yes," I say again, a bit more subdued as the post-orgasm endorphins start to sluice through my body.

"Great, I knew I could count on you, Viv. I definitely owe you one, and I’m willing to pay up for whatever you need me to do," the President says. "Thanks and goodbye."

I don’t have a chance to say goodbye, I’m just laying there, enjoying the last of my orgasm before the day starts.

"Is it my turn?" Mr. Lobbyist raises his head, asking me. What a wimp. I can’t believe this man runs his own business. That before he met me, he was supposedly considered a badass by the Washington women who swoon after powerful males.

I swing my legs out over him, and get off the bed. I need to take a shower. And it sounds like I’m going to New York.

"What about me?" the Lobbyist asks, getting out of bed too. I look over his body. His cock may be tiny, but his body was alright. Standard 6-pack abs, maybe could stand to work out a little more—get some more definition.

I head to the shower. Anyone who has to beg me for sex isn’t getting any.

"I need to shower, feel free to show yourself out…babe," I tell him as I turn on the water and then turn to face him. He looks crestfallen. I feel so bad all of a sudden.

"Oh, don’t be sad, babe, it’s okay," I tell him. "It’s not your fault. I just don’t fuck losers in the morning is all."

He nods, and leaves, tail tucked between his legs. Hopefully he rescues some girl from someone or something to get his ego up soon.

As for me, I have a plane to catch.