Ann

 

 

 

The past few weeks have been exhausting. Things started out slow, and for the very first week, I thought that my position would be filled with a lot of waiting, reading, shopping, and fucking.

More than just fucking, actually. I knew things would be different with Jared, challenging, new, and often on the verge of dangerous. I'm still struggling with the person I become once he puts me into that special place, mentally and physically. We always play in his bedroom, but I've never spent the night there.

At first, I felt like I was losing myself, drifting away from the person I thought I was. There was so much that I didn't understand, so much to cope with, so much to process, because I've never experienced anything like it before. But now I want him to test my limits, sometimes more than he's willing to. Luckily, I also learned how to get what I want from him. It may look like it from the outside, but he's not truly the one holding all the power in this relationship.

I am.

Or at least that's what I like to tell myself, especially when I write. I'm still taking notes almost every single day. I need the outlet. I have no one to talk to, no one to reflect on my experiences with. There's so much going on in my new life with Jared, inside and outside the bedroom. I have to leave it somewhere, and paper has always been the best listener. But Jared still doesn't know about it. At this point, he doesn't even know that I write at all because I do it in secret when I'm alone. I don't even know why I don't want him to know because I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to be.

Or so I want him to believe.

The thought has crossed my mind. I am growing closer to him, and I get to know him better every day we spend together. I may know more about him than anyone, intimate details that would sell if he is elected to Congress, or eventually higher than that. I have to think long-term here. My secrets won't be worth much unless he makes it in politics. I doubt anyone would bat an eye at the story I’m writing right now. He's just a businessman, even though he’s filthy rich and powerful, especially considering how young he is. But who would be interested in the private details of his extravagant life now?

I shake my head, chasing away my shameful thoughts. We're at the Rotary Club attending a campaign event for Jared. I'm standing next to him on stage, as he’s introduced to speak - and here I am, thinking about when or how I could sell the private details of our arrangement someday.

I’m a bad person. And he has no idea.

I watch him stride confidently to the center of the stage. He’s welcomed by a timid round of applause. I stay a few feet behind him, in the background like a decorative flower in my new Gucci dress. I smile and nod, knowing there's press here covering the event, photographers, maybe even people I used to work with.

I hadn’t realized that this first week was something like a test run, a time for Jared to determine if I was suitable for the position. He never told me a lot about the girls he considered for this role before me, or why he didn’t select any of them. All he said was that they "didn't work out" for several reasons. I don't know why, but it seems that he's of the opinion that I am “working out.”

He has been busy from the get-go, leaving me by myself during the day while he was away working. In a way, my life is one that many women dream of. I have all the money I could ever want at my disposal - even though it's not my money - and all the time in the world to do what I want. He even explicitly told me to go out and shop for clothes and jewelry, something that most women wouldn't have to be told twice.

But I'm not like most women. I never developed a taste for shopping, mainly because I never could afford it. I’ve been trying to get used to it. When I first stepped in the store, I felt so out of place and uncomfortable that I almost turned around and walked out. I couldn't, though, because Jared had advised one of the sales ladies that I was there as soon as we walked in the door and proceeded to treat me like I was the God damn queen.

It turns out that I completely underestimated Jared's standing and his wealth. He's not only a lot richer, but he’s also more well-known and considered more powerful than I first thought. As soon as he introduces me as his girlfriend, people everywhere around me completely change their attitude toward me. I don't know how to feel about this. While this special treatment is flattering and nice in a way, it also exemplifies what’s wrong with this world.

I felt a lot better when Jared started to treat me as more than just his personal plaything and trophy girlfriend. He brought me to his campaign headquarters to meet more of his staff and volunteers who are working on his campaign. Most of the volunteers are my age or younger, and I still feel weird mingling with them given the role I play.

Jared wraps up his eloquent speech, and I join in the audience’s enthusiastic applause. I walk up to him, and we embrace and kiss just as we rehearsed, to look natural and loving.

He casts me a quick glance as we’re walking off the stage, holding hands. We disengage our hands as soon as we are out of the limelight, and he casts me another quick look, his eyebrows raising.

"Good speech," I say, acting as if I was fixing his collar. It may just be an excuse to touch him, but I know there are still eyes on us. We may be standing off to the side by ourselves, but we’re still within sight and earshot of his team and the organizers. If we are supposed to look like a real and loving couple, we have to play the part, even when the spotlight isn’t focused directly on us.

He scans our surroundings before leaning down to whisper in my ear.

"I fucking hate this part."

"You need them," I remind him.

He huffs. "I don't need these assholes' money. Just their support. I only wish I could get it without this spectacle. It's fucking draining."

"Oh, toughen up," I tease him, my voice a whisper. "It's just a few more minutes of handshaking and small talking."

He laughs then and looks at me, taking my face between both of his hands and fixating on me through narrowed eyes.

"Easy for you to talk now," he whispers back. "But you're the one I'm going to be taking my frustration out on later tonight."

I shiver and smile at him. "I can't wait, Sir."

He's told me not to call him that when we're in public, but I enjoy the little flicker that appears in his dark eyes too much not to do it. It's a simple word, but spoken at the right time and in the right tone can spark something inside him, that dark, violent side I've come to like so much about him.

He squeezes my face between his hands again, his thumbs digging into my cheeks, pinching me for just a second before relaxing his grip again.

"You're going to pay for that, my little Button."

I throw him a mischievous smile. They may only be words, but when he says them a certain way and accompanied by the right expression, they have the power to unravel me in just the right way.

He lets go of me and puts some distance between us, straightening his jacket before he offers me his arm.

"Let's go get them."

I tuck my arm into his elbow and follow him outside where they are waiting for us. Men of wealth, men of influence, and a few men and women with questions. None of them know that my cheeks are flushed because of his dirty promise, or that my heart is racing with anticipation and my core is throbbing with lust, as I walk next to the man who introduces me as his life partner. Presentable, chic, articulate… and her panties soaked with the juices of her arousal and sticking to her center.

We all have our own little secrets.