CHAPTER NINE
Thomas
Two months later …
Shit has been pretty terrible with things blowing up left and right. Gun violence at high schools. ISIS going fucking crazy. The Russians tampering with American social media, and god forbid, American politics. Sometimes, the truth will set you free, but what was the truth here? I had no idea what to believe, even with the best intel and advisers on hand.
“Are you ready, Sir?” asked my assistant Daniel, popping his head into the Oval Office. “Car’s waiting outside.”
The truth was that I was about ready to quit this job. Can I do that? Is it possible to step down without giving a reason? I couldn’t exactly say to the American people, “This job sucks shit and is pretty frickin’ thankless to boot.” Because everyone thinks that being President is my life’s dream, but as I admitted to Susie, that wasn’t the truth.
Which brings me to a larger issue. That night with Pearl should have ended immediately, and it did in the physical sense. I haven’t seen or heard from her in the last two months, and yet I think of the woman day in and day out. How she pulled confidences from me, things that I would never say to my friends or family, much less in public. How there was a weird parallel between our situations, her ending up at the Pink Flamingo and me in the White House. It’s sounds ludicrous, but it’s true. Shit just snowballed, and we both ended up in unexpected places, regretting our decision somewhat.
But life is what it is. I haven’t had time to contact her again, what with my busy schedule. And now it was time for the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, an annual ritual where the President cracks jokes and lets down his guard in front of a bunch of reporters. Yeah, right. Those folks are snakes and I didn’t exactly want to play along. But then again, sometimes there’s no way to say no, even for me, Mr. Commander-in-Chief.
So in a bad mood, I got into the limo that whisked me down the Beltway to the Marriott. Good god. Another rubber chicken dinner with people in finery, topped off with stilted conversation and old ladies in glittery gowns. Exactly where I didn’t want to be. What I really wanted was to spend time with Susie once more, the curvy girl naked and panting in my lap before kissing her until she ran out of breath.
But real life is stark, and I was on my way to make a speech about who knows what before people that I didn’t really like. FML. Rifling slowly through the notecards, I looked at the speech Daniel had written. Something about collaboration, cohesiveness, and co-something or other. All the buzzwords, right here and ready for the teleprompter. Great.
Leaning back, I looked out the window. What was Susie doing right now? It was Thursday, so she’d probably be going on stage soon. Ha. I didn’t mind, to be honest. I love a woman who owns her curves, and wasn’t going to hold dancing against a female so beautiful and enticing. What I’d give to be at the Flaming right now, waiting for the female to appear. Shit. It only made my mood worse, realizing that I was pretty much attending the opposite of the Tasty Thursday at the Flamingo. Fuck my life again.
And finally, we rolled up to the venue.
“Sir,” said the Secret Service guy in the seat beside me. Honestly, I’m still not used to them, and will never be used to the security detail, what with their unsmiling faces and unwavering focus on threat. Lighten up, dudes. But I guess that’s their job.
And with a smile and a wave, I got out of the car, all business. Bulbs popped, the flash blinding me for a moment. But like a veteran, I moved on forwards, striding confidently into the building. An old lady rushed over, wearing a ball gown studded with millions of shiny beads. Oh, it was Helen Monroe, who always asks the first question during press conferences.
“Hello Helen!” was my jovial greeting. The old woman leered in a malicious manner.
“Nice to see you, Mr. President,” she cackled. “Hope you brought your sense of humor.”
Oh god. It was gonna be bad tonight because obviously, no one was in the mood for civility. Fuck my life times three. Plus, there was the usual crowd of hangers-on and a scrum to push my way through.
“Mr. President!” the dude representing Al Jazeera called. “What’s your rationale behind moving the embassy?”
He was shut down by Daniel.
“We won’t be discussing that,” interrupted my aide. “The President is here to enjoy himself tonight, and we hope you will too,” he said with a pointed look.
Finally, I was escorted to the first table, right in front of the stage. A practiced smile wreathed my lips, and I hoped to god that there was something edible. But unfortunately, Daniel leaned forwards once more.
“Sir,” he murmured. “Remember, there are cameras trained on us at all times, so no eating. We’ll get you a real meal once we’re back at the White House.”
I nodded in understanding, smile still firmly in place. Fuck my life times four. I was set to starve on top of all this.
And finally, the dinner started. There were the speeches. The introductions. Even my talk went off without a hitch, with people laughing during all the pre-assigned pauses. So when it was time to leave, I was plenty relieved. Nothing had gone wrong, and I couldn’t wait to be alone in my office once more.
But suddenly, there was a commotion by the door.
“Thomas, Thomas!” came a woman’s cry. I started for a moment. No, couldn’t be. She was up in NYC, leading a completely different life. Our paths were never supposed to intersect. So what was she doing here?
But I had to know because images of the curvy brunette have been ruling my mind ever since our hot encounter two months ago. So I shook off the Secret Service, turning to where the woman stood.
And it was her. Susie Hemphill aka Pearl Evanesence. Out of place, yes, because she wore a plain sweater and skirt, nothing like the glitzy ballgowns that graced the other attendees. Yet she was a thousand times more beautiful with those big brown eyes and curvy figure.
“Hey,” I said in a low voice. “Is everything okay?”
There was a crowd forming around us, and Daniel went to step between us.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but you can talk to me,” he said in a firm voice. “The President is very busy. He has another function to attend right after this, and he needs to ….”
But Susie held a piece of paper in her hand towards me, eyes pained.
“Why did you ask me to sign this?” she said in a broken voice. “I never meant you any harm.”
What? I took the paper from her and scanned it quickly. This was no place to get into the fine print, but the title itself said enough. “NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.” Hmm, what in the world? Who had prepared this thing?
I flipped to the last page, and sure enough, there was the signature of my personal attorney, Josh Cotton. Fuck that guy. What was he doing, sending something like this over to Susie without my knowledge?
Quickly, I grabbed the woman’s arm and escorted her into my limo.
“Sir,” panted Daniel, eyes practically bugging out. “This is not the time! Ma’am, please step out of the car.”
But I merely slammed the door in my staffer’s face. This was the time because what the hell was going on? And once in the privacy of the limo, I turned towards Susie.
“Hey sweetheart,” was my raspy greeting. “I’ve missed you.”
She didn’t move, merely looking at the ground. But then those brown eyes snapped my way.
“What is this piece of paper?” she asked, brandishing it at me once more. “What’s behind this?”
I took it from her, again shaking my head.
“I have no idea, sweetheart. Can you give me a minute to look at it? Just hold on a sec.”
And using my lawyerly training, I scanned the document more thoroughly this time. Evidently, it was a non-disclosure agreement which offered Susie a hundred thousand dollars in order to keep mum about her encounter with me.
I looked up at her, fingers still paging through the document.
“I swear, sweetheart. I’ve never seen this NDA before.”
But Susie’s eyes were shuttered.
“Do you recognize the name at the bottom though?”
My nod was slow.
“Sure. Josh Cotton is my personal attorney, but I never authorized him to prepare this document. I swear on my mother’s grave, sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about that night non-stop for the last two months, and I’d never offer you hush money to keep our meeting under wraps.”
But the beautiful brunette wouldn’t meet my eyes, merely staring out the window.
“You know that mid-term elections are coming up soon?” she asked in a wooden voice. “And your party’s in big trouble?”
I snorted.
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with this NDA? It’s not like I’m up for re-election.”
Her head snapped back my way.
“You’re not,” she said in a tight voice. “But they’ll use anything against you to bring you down. You know how many enemies there are? They’re everywhere, from Oklahoma to Idaho, not to mention within your very own party.”
And that took me aback. Because I’d forgotten just how smart Susie was. Or more accurately, I’d been mooning on and on about her jiggly curves and sweet personality, forgetting that there was an intelligent girl with a college degree beneath the stripper exterior. She was a go-getter and fierce in her own way, which only made me love her more.
Wait a minute. Love? What the hell was that? Frankly, I haven’t been in love since my dog Buddy died when I was thirteen. So what in the world was I thinking?
But having Susie in the car with me caused emotions to roll over my frame because suddenly, I realized it was true. I’ve been thinking about the BBW brunette non-stop, from her laugh to her witticisms, to the way she moaned as I stroked those heavenly curves. I was in love with the woman from tip to toe. So I had to try and make the best of this unfortunate situation.
“Sweetheart,” I rumbled again. “I swear, Josh Cotton was doing this on his own. Or someone else authorized him to make this payment. I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
And suddenly, Susie’s head swung towards me, those brown eyes blazing with fury.
“So you know the payment’s already been made,” she hissed. “Because when I woke up this morning, there was a hundred thousand dollars in my bank account!” she cried, tears filling her eyes. “Is that all I am to you? Some hooch that you throw money at?” she asked angrily, swiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I get it. I’m a dancer at the Flamingo, but still, Mr. President,” she said, her voice shaking with rage and hurt. “I would have thought you were better than that.”
And even with the car speeding along the highway, the curvy female put her hand on the door, ready to make her exit. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand the thought of Susie being hurt, emotionally as well as physically. So moving like lightning, I blocked the door.
“No,” was my low growl. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Try and stop me!” she shrieked, clawing at my face like a kitten gone mad. “You fucking wretch!”
And we engaged in a wrestling match of sorts except that my lover’s about a hundred pounds lighter than me, not to mention a foot shorter. The scrabbling was over in about five seconds flat, with the curvy girl pinned beneath me on the limo seat.
“Stop it,” I barked. “Stop it right now.”
She struggled some more, only to bring those heaving curves in closer contact with my body.
“Try to stop me,” she hissed again, eyes blazing. “Get ready for a fight, big guy.”
Of course, this whole thing was ludicrous. The girl was pinned beneath my massive form, those huge Double Ds pressed up against my chest, her legs tangled with my long ones. And I did it then. I swooped down and pressed my lips to hers, infusing the kiss with everything I felt for her. Because Susie is my dream come true. Sure, it’s ludicrous. She’s a librarian cum feature dancer and I’m the President of the United States. Bu that’s the thing. This is the United States, where anyone can meet anyone else, and for whatever reason, there was a real spark between us.
Susie fought it at first. She struggled and mewled, trying to push my heavy weight off of her. But I was relentless.
“You love me,” I muttered against her lips. “I know it. You do.”
And finally, the girl gave up, melting against me with warmth and passion.
“I hate you!” she managed to gasp, half-crying and half-aroused while still trying to batter my shoulders. “I hate your guts!”
It only spurred me on.
“No, you love me sweet thing,” was my fevered reply. “We’re made for each other, however unlikely. Because sweetheart, you’re the good to my bad, the heaven to my hell. You’re what keeps me going when I have nothing to look forward to. Shit, you made tonight’s dinner that much better by showing up.”
And for a moment, Susie stills, just looking at me.
“So you didn’t order your lawyer to prepare that NDA?” she asks in a teary voice. “That was his idea and not yours?”
“His,” I nod curtly. “And fuck but I’m gonna tear him a new one. Or whoever organized this shitshow because honey, you know the White House is a machine. It’s called the Deep State and fuck, but I have no idea myself how it works sometimes. Someone ordered something from somewhere and that piece of crap NDA is the result. But someone’s gonna pay, I can guarantee you that.”
The brunette relaxed a little bit, her curvy form going still beneath me.
“So you never wanted to shut me up,” she said quietly, a hitch to her voice. “It’s all a misunderstanding.”
Fuck, I didn’t know what to say. It was more than a misunderstanding. It was a giant clusterfuck which wires were crossed in the worst ways possible. No wonder nothing ever gets done around this shithole! I didn’t order the contract drawn up and yet somehow, my personal lawyer had come up with this grand idea from who knows where. Probably the Office of Professional Ethics, those asshats. They always think they know what they’re doing, when in fact they’re the new SS come to life.
So I looked deep into Susie’s eyes, imbuing the gaze with everything I felt for the woman.
“I’m so sorry,” was my growl. “I never asked for this. I never wanted things to get screwed up in this manner. In fact, I’ve only been thinking of you, and trying to figure out a way to get back up to the Flamingo. It’s been a hellish couple months to say the least.”
She gazed back at me, the caramel eyes still a little wary but at least the raging fear and anger were gone.
“Okay,” Susie said while taking a deep breath. “I get it. Okay.”
I levered myself off her body before pulling her close to my side.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” came my murmur again. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel bad in any way. In fact, I love you. You’re the only one who means something to me in this cesspool of a city, and you don’t even live here,” I said wryly. “What I wouldn’t do to move back to Manhattan right now.”
She looked at me, before turning to face my form with those soft curves undulating.
“But you can move back,” she said in a gentle voice. “It’s not impossible.”
I let out a sharp bark.
“Are you kidding sweetheart? Not since Richard Nixon has a President of the United States resigned from office. I don’t exactly want to follow in the steps of Tricky Dick, if you get what I mean.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, I get it,” the female spoke. “But you’re so unhappy. Doesn’t that count for something? You can’t live life like this, stewing non-stop in your fancy suits. It’s not worth it Thomas. Life isn’t meant to be lived like this.”
I took a deep breath because how could I make her understand? I’m the President, for crying out loud. How could I just turn my back on the people who had elected me?
But on the other hand, Susie had a point. I hate my life. I hate getting up in the morning, my heart heavy with dread. I hate putting on these goddamn suits that all look the same, while making nice with diplomats who can’t wait until I’m gone. I hate the cameras, the endless news coverage, and the media barons, all who want to bring me down. I hate them all. So to my own surprise, I nodded.
“I’ll think about it,” came my low voice. “Because shit, I really want to quit.”
She nodded.
“We all do sometimes,” she said. “And there’s no shame in quitting, so long as the circumstances are right. Because we’re not here on Earth to hate every minute of existence, Thomas. We’re humans. We’re meant to be happy, and it’s our right to pursue happiness in life. Isn’t that what the Declaration of Independence says? And you’ve suffered enough. You never asked for this, and it was only through sheer chance that the office landed on you. So maybe it’s time to throw in the towel. Be happy, Thomas. Start your life over because you deserve it.”
And holy hell, but Susie’s words moved me. How did the girl do it? Somehow, her sentences stirred my soul deep within, tapping into what I really wanted. Because I was sick of this city. I was sick of this office and the in-fighting and squabbles, large and small, that happened each day. I was sick of the ceaseless demands, the non-stop traveling, and the rubber chicken dinners. I wanted peace and happiness once more, and becoming a private citizen was the first step on that path.
So I took her hands in mine.
“If I do it,” came my low growl. “Will you come with me? Because sweetheart, you mean the world to me. It doesn’t matter that you dance for a living. It doesn’t matter if you’re green, blue, or purple with polka dots. What matters is that we love each other, and want to be together.”
Susie looked at me then with light and adoration in her eyes.
“Yes, I’ll come with you, Mr. President.” She took a deep breath. “Because ultimately, it doesn’t matter to me if you’re the president or not. What matters is that I, Susie Hemphill, love you, Thomas Burke, and I want to be with you. So yes, Mr. President. Take that as my agreement.”
And with that, I lowered my head to her sweet pout, taking the little girl’s lips. Because these were the words that I needed to hear, a balm over my sore heart. This woman would be with me through thick and thin, even if I rejected the highest office in the land. She didn’t care about keeping up with the Joneses, or about the trappings of success. She wanted to be with me because true love is the way to happiness, and we were destined to walk the path together.
So yes, despite our unconventional beginnings, the starlet and the President found their way together. It was crazy, our first meeting taking place in a seedy joint called the Pink Flamingo. But you know what? It’s no crazier than on-line dating or using a matchmaker. And what’s important is that my true love is in my arms … for better or worse, richer or poorer, until death do us part.