Chapter Three
The day swept by quickly. I received several emails from across the country and had a Skype call with a woman from California who would be greeting us on our next campaign trail. I met with Jason in the small office in which he’d initially shown me those horrific photos all those weeks ago. We talked about normal things, but all the while, I sensed a sort of humor about him—like he knew precisely how much power he had over me, like he knew that he’d altered the course of my life with just a few clicks of his spy cameras. Check. Mate.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to California with the president, do you?” Jason asked me, his face a bit shiny with grease, with acne. His eyes were filled with offbeat humor.
I frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, Jason,” I calmly. “I’m the campaign manager. I’m obviously going to California with the president to oversee all the events and keep him on track.” I shrugged. And then, I leaned forward. “And if you think there’s anything still going on with me and the president, you’re sorely mistaken.” My breath was lined with hatred, with anger. I scowled at him.
But Jason just laughed. “All right. But you do know that I have the ultimate power over you. Right?” He smirked at me. “Otherwise, I can bring out a few of those photographs.”
I stood up quickly from my chair across from him. “Are you ever going to grow up?” I hissed at him, shaking my head. “Fuck you.”
I spun around, feeling haughty. I felt like I couldn’t turn anywhere without being accosted by something, without someone propositioning me. Both Jason and Xavier were like brick walls before me that I continually banged my head against, hurting myself over and over. But I saw no sign of release, I saw no sign of help. I sighed and pushed into the breezy hallway, hearing the laughter from Jason in the room behind me.
Everywhere I looked on the walk back from the small office, I felt like people’s eyes were on me, like they were watching me. I felt my heart constrict in my chest. Suppose—suppose they suspected something? Suppose they knew that I was sleeping with the president? Suppose they knew that I was essentially under Jason’s thumb, without any control? I cleared my throat, ready to attract some people’s eyes. But no one looked up, like I was invisible or something. I shivered.
I sat at my desk and tapped my fingers against the wood, feeling incredibly foolish. I watched as Jason sauntered back into the room. His shirt sort of poked out around his belt. So unkempt, I thought; what a goddamned mess. And yet so organized that he could actually get the better of me. Incredible.
The terror of my life was escalating around me. I felt like I was losing my grip. I couldn’t even go back to my beautiful apartment—the apartment I had worked so hard to get, to organize, to decorate. The apartment that felt so dirty now.
I looked down the hallway and saw that Camille had just exited the Oval Office. She looked arrogant. She was all elbows, with this short, pixie haircut. She nodded to the Secret Service agent and then stomped down the hallway. I wondered what sort of discussion they’d had. I wondered if she knew he was having an affair, if she could smell it on him like some women could. I remembered that the man I’d slept with from Congress had had a wife. She’d suspected, he’d told me. She’d known just from the happiness about him, from the jaunt in his step. “We’re meant to die unhappy,” he’d said, stroking my back in bed. His hair was coarse on his chest.
I tapped my fingers: one, two, three, four, five, as I watched Camille storm into the other side of the house. I thought of her husband—a man, I realized then, who I’d come to believe was far more mine than anyone else’s. Was I okay with sharing him? I wasn’t sure. I felt the rage billow through me; I felt that I should absolutely dart down the hallway and take advantage of this one thing in my life that gave me joy, that gave me an escape from everything else continually going to shit.
Xavier. Xavier.
Even his name was so sensual. I was always so worried about us, about what was going to happen if people found out. But I knew that Xavier didn’t have these fears. So why was I so eternally befuddled with this problem? Why was I running away from the only thing that made my heart brim, made my lips smile? Why was I falling away from it?
I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, and I tried to listen to my heart for the first time in my all-too-professional life. I felt the beats course through me. This was a bad situation. But I had to take advantage of it. I had to feel his dick inside me once more. I had to be a part of this.
I had to follow this pleasure down the White House rabbit hole, certain that I’d never come back for air.