Finally, he pulled away from me. He turned me around and kissed me with such drive. Our naked bodies were dripping with sweat. “Don’t leave me again,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” I murmured back. He brought his hand to my chin and stroked it, shaking his head.
“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”
I felt the same. But I knew then that we were already 10 minutes late to the meeting. As usual, my mind dove back into practicalities. I shook my head and blinked into his eyes. “Baby. We have that meeting; 10 minutes ago.” I bit my lip and watched as his own face erupted into that realiza
tion. “Shit.”
He reached toward his clothes and started hurrying them on. I grabbed my tights and bounced into them. As they wrapped around my waist, leaving my breasts still bare, I heard someone at the door. Someone arguing. I froze and turned toward Xavier, my eyes wide. The fear was rattling through me. The voice was familiar. But the fear in Xavier’s face forced me to panic. He stood in his boxers, his chest still sweating. The smell of sex was in the air.
And then, the door opened. In the doorway stood Camille, Xavier’s wife. She brought her slim hands to her thin waist and gazed at his, nearly raping my naked frame with her snakelike eyes. “Well, well, well,” she murmured. “What do we have here?”
POWER #5
Chapter One
I stood, holding my hands over my nipples, gazing up at Camille, Xavier’s wife, with what was surely a gross, indecent expression. My hair was in a tizzy after fucking the president. I held my breath for several moments as Camille traced her eyes over us, folding her hands over her stomach; she looked less like a wife catching her husband cheating and more like a grandmother catching her grandchild with a hand in the cookie jar.
Xavier stood beside me, a mere foot away, looking at this woman before him as if she were his equal. And I supposed, in many ways, she was. She’d helped him stride to this great position—most powerful man in the world. And look at what he was doing to her. I imagined the strain lurking behind her eyes; the sheer unhappiness.
The tense moment ended in an instant, however. She shrugged her shoulders and spun around, facing the wall. Her voice was stark in the room. “Get dressed. Both of you,” she ordered. Her blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight.
Unsure of what to do, I brought my bra around my tits, snapping it between my shoulder blades. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the president jumped into his own pants, tied his own tie. I zipped my dress and ruffled at my hair in the mirror, not realizing, for a moment, that I was shaking. God. We’d been caught.
Again.
Finally, Camille spun around once more. The expression on her face reminded me of a diplomat—someone working through a deal. She pressed her lips together firmly and tapped toward Xavier, bringing her fingers to his tie. “Darling. I can’t have you going into your campaign meeting looking like you just got through with a fuck fest. Or a fight.” She winked at him. Xavier didn’t say anything, and I felt my stomach dropping out beneath me.
I knew then that this was my moment; my moment to escape this room, to run away. I had to get to the campaign meeting. I cleared my throat, but neither the president nor his wife looked toward me. “I better be getting to the campaign meeting—“ I nearly whispered, gazing at them both like a lost child.
But Camille interrupted my words, speaking only to Xavier. “Xavier. You can’t allow the girl to go. We have much to go over, after all.”
It was strange, how she addressed him, instead of me. I stopped short, knowing I didn’t have a choice. Xavier nodded toward me, his eyes like glass. So shiny and breakable.
Camille rubbed at Xavier’s shoulders then, after adjusting his tie. “Well, well, Xavier. An affair. How completely classic.” She brought her shoulders up to her ears and seemed to giggle. The giggle was low, a bit disconcerting. Xavier said nothing. “You know. I don’t care about this, even for a moment.”
I raised my eyebrows toward her, feeling my heart beat so fast in my chest. I had been imagining my career ending; I’d been imagining having to move back in with my mother, all the way in lackluster Pennsylvania. I knew this woman before me could ruin me. And yet it seemed she didn’t want to?
Camille continued. “Yes. It’s a bit easier for me, you having an affair.” She adjusted her body on her high heels. “After all. It takes a great deal of effort to stay in love with you. You’re a trip, Xavier. I’m sure your young girl over there will agree.”
I swallowed, still unable to comprehend this. Why wouldn’t the first lady look toward me? I wanted to grab her, to spin her around. But she held the floor so expertly. I felt my tongue scratch against the back of my dry throat.
“I don’t love you as I think I should. I don’t think I have, not for a long time.” She flicked a piece of lint from Xavier’s chest then. It seemed like such an intimate gesture, one I would have killed to have the privilege to do. But I wasn’t his wife; I wasn’t in those ever-tall shoes.
Xavier swallowed in the silence that followed her words. “I appreciate your openness,” he murmured. The tension continued, but it seemed that Camille didn’t feel a moment of it. “If you ever feel that you find—if you ever think that you could—“
But Camille turned then. She addressed us both, primarily talking to Xavier, once more. Her words were stark, blasting through his. “Xavier. I’d ask that this—affair, however serious it may be—doesn’t affect my personal life or my life as first lady. I appreciate this lifestyle. I’ve worked a great deal for it. God, all those meetings, all those brunches. And finally, we’re here. I’m here. And you shan’t ruin me while I remain here. Is that clear?”
Xavier nodded, closing his eyes. My heart sank. I nodded, as well, thinking only for a moment that I hoped he would lose the election.
“That will not be a problem, Camille,” Xavier stated, his voice incredibly presidential.
“And—“ Camille interrupted once more. “I’d like to further add that I don’t care about what you do. I don’t care about what both of you do—or what Xavier does in the future.” She eyed me, then, catlike, dismissing me as a true suitor. “As long as you continue these affairs, Xavier, I will discredit the allegations. I will uphold my innocence and my happiness as first wife and first lady.” She cleared her throat once more. I couldn’t believe all that I was hearing. “But let me be clear, Xavier. Once more. You are not to ruin me.” She took a step forward and gazed into his eyes. In what seemed like a sharp, pointed moment, she brought her lips onto his. She kissed him without a hint of passion. Then, she reared back, tapping her heels on the ground and escalating herself back into the White House hallways.
“Thank you, Camille,” Xavier began. But his words were cut off by the crashing door. The golden, mirror-rimmed door left us alone in the room once more. Xavier blinked toward me, a strange look emanating from his face. He shook his head. And then, in a strange burst, he came toward me. He placed his fingers—so delicately—on my neck, on my chin. He kissed me with a zeal, with a passion that made me want to rip off his clothes once more. My breath came unevenly. It seemed that our future was wide open for us; it seemed that nothing stood in our way.
His eyes gazed into mine, and I nodded slowly, as if we were agreeing to something. I wasn’t sure what it was. But, in that moment, we both started laughing. I felt my heart rise up in my chest: it seemed that this moment of sheer, prime happiness would last forever.