Sources also tell me—again under complete anonymity—that he’s moved out of the Mayor's townhome. That’s right. Something must have happened between the Mayor and his son that was so bad that Lance moved out. He’s been spotted at the Plaza and I have two sources confirming that he’s been staying there. Not just that, but this whole thing may be revolving around a mystery lover that Lance has. Does daddy not approve of whoever Lance is dating? Is that why he moved out? This story is getting juicier the more layers we dig.
Third and final curveball. Jocelyn Anders has announced a press conference for tomorrow. At the time of this printing, we have no idea what she plans to speak about, but we’re willing to guess based on the information that we have so far. We think it has to do with the same reason that our sources are telling us that there’s marital discord between what we thought was the happy couple. In fact, it could even deal with the baby itself. Oh, this could end up being bigger than we even thought, New York. In a rare step, the Mayor’s wife has also agreed to open up the press conference to the public.
She’ll be speaking at noon tomorrow on the steps of City Hall.
One thing we know for sure, Jocelyn Anders hails from a political family. If she’s coming out in public then something has gone on behind the scenes that's big enough to rock the boat a few days before the election. And whatever it is, you can bet that we’re going to get you the full story behind what they say. Till tomorrow then, New York. This is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Jocelyn
The press are lined up in the front. The photographers are snapping pictures. I can’t understand how they even manage to look like they’ve gone through a full day when it’s still only 10 am.
Yeah, hon, you guessed it. I’m so nervous. I almost decided to call the whole thing off today when I woke up.
I mean, can you blame me? I’m going to go in front of 8.5 million people in a few minutes right now and tell them that I’ve been a bad wife. That not only that, but I’ve seduced my own stepson. Talk about chickens coming home to roost.
I was literally five seconds away from sending Michael an email today.
But then I felt Lance’s arms around my shoulder. He pulled me closer to him in bed and I felt his cock grind against my ass. We’ve been sleeping naked every night I’ve spent at the Plaza now that Michael knows. It suits Michael just fine—Kenneth and he have been romping around I’ll bet.
This marriage is over. That’s for sure. But we’re not out of Michael’s crosshairs until we get this sorted. Lance and I can never be happy until I go do this.
All that doubt that I was feeling in the morning? As soon as I felt
Lance’s strong arms hold me tightly against him, as soon as I felt his hard, cut body behind me, as soon as I thought about how much he loved me and stood by me while I figured this entire situation out, and yes, as soon as I felt that massive cock of his, I knew that I had to be in his life.
And there’s no way I can continue to be in his life if I don’t do this.
I take a giant sigh and walk to the podium.
Michael and Lance have gone over all the details. For the purposes of this press conference, Michael has felt it absolutely essential that Lance not be there while I speak.
“We need the media to focus on Jocelyn,” Michael apparently told Lance. “We have one chance to come clean and get them on our side. If it looks like we’re trying to play them, this could spiral out of control. And being there with her makes this whole thing look way more orchestrated than we want to let on.”
Of course, Michael was orchestrating this. Of course every detail had been gone over with painstaking detail. Literally, the election for mayor of the greatest city in the world is lying as the stakes.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Lance asked this morning as we dressed. There had been a savage protectiveness to his lovemaking in the shower, as he bent me against the wall and took me from behind as the water pelted our bodies. “Or stand by you when you go on in front of the press?”
“Michael said it was for the best if neither of you guys…” I had started but Lance wouldn’t let me finish.
“Fuck what anyone else says, Jocelyn,” he cut me off. Then he brought his arms around me and made me take a step closer. “All that fucking matters to me in this whole world is you. Fuck everything else.”
Honestly, just him telling me that at that moment made me realize that no matter what, I had to be brave and get this done. Because this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. So what if he was 15 years younger than me? So what if he had been my stepson? All my life, I’d gone from man to man, being told how beautiful I was that I never really knew what it meant to be cared for by someone. Michael gave me neglect and contempt under a shield of status and power.
Lance gave me love. He gave me his body. And I wanted to give him my soul.
That’s literally all I’m thinking about as I get onto the podium. How after this, I want to go bury my face in Lance’s chest. How I’ll be able to do that without having to worry.
Maybe we’ll get some lunch at The Spotted Pig. I hear they make a great burger. Maybe after that some shopping. Bergdorfs? No, I know just the place. Saks Fifth Avenue. Maybe we could go back to the dressing room where it all started…
The flash of a photographer brings me back down to the here and now. I need to focus. There won’t be any lunch with Lance if I don’t do this. There won’t be any dressing room shenanigans if I mess it up.
“Thank you for coming today, ladies and gentlemen,” I say, looking down at the prepared notes I have. I’ve memorized them, but it helps to look down. The press in the front grow silent. I can see a large crowd assembled behind them. Ordinary New Yorkers, coming to see what the big deal is. Hoping to find a moment in history. I continue. “I will have a prepared statement, after which I will take any questions from the media.”
More photographs. People must be speculating what I’m going to say. Well, I’m about to drop it. I wonder who will be left after the dust clears.
“As many of you know, I’ve recently found out and am overjoyed by the fact that I am pregnant,” I say into the microphone and take a deep breath. “Despite reports and statements made to the press, I am here today to set the record straight. Michael Anders is not the father of my child.”
If I had told them that I was a Martian who had been secretly gathering data about the human race in preparation for a future invasion, people may have looked less stunned.