Falling for My Dirty Uncle

But I raise my hand to silence them.

"However," I say, "Since you've made this personal, I'd like to take the time to make a very personal announcement."

Now the crowd is hushed, a silence unlike anything I've witnessed falls across the room, like a silk blanket draped across everyone's head.

I clear my throat and say, "I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée, Ashley Draper."

Now cameras are snapping and reporters are practically falling out of their fucking chairs. Never in their wildest imaginations did they expect me to make an announcement like this. In their minds, I'm a playboy—not a family man.

But they're eating it up. Their scowls are now smiles.

I watch as Ashley approaches the podium, and joins me. She's wearing a classy white dress with smooth lines and figure hugging curves—curves that I can't help but stare at. She looks dignified, and dare I say angelic.

She's good at this, a real professional. If I didn't know any better, I'd believe she was my fiancée too.

The press is now clapping. One reporter is even yelling out, "Congratulations Mr. President!"

This is going just as I intended.

They're eating out of my hand.

I'm not even sure I need this fake fiancée, but God do I want to fuck her. I take another glance at her perfectly round tits and picture them both in my mouth and in my hands. My eyes travel further down to her ass, which sways with each seductive step she takes. I can picture bending her over my desk, hiking up that white dress and—

"When is the wedding?" a reporter asks, breaking my train of thought.

"We'll make that announcement soon," I reply, "But for now, I just want to reiterate the fact that I would never risk my relationship, or the reputation of the country. My priorities are on this great Nation, and on the future Mrs. Bain," I say.

Ashley walks up to me, joining me at the podium, and she laces her arm in mine, giving me a soft peck on the cheek.

"Ashley, how did you meet Mr. Bain?" one reporter yells.

Another one asks, "Are children in your foreseeable future?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Ashley smiles, fielding the last question. "One step at a time. I think we have our hands full enough just planning a wedding, let alone future children."

The press reporters love her comeback. They laugh and nod in agreement.

“How do you respond to the fact that the President has had sex with numerous women before you?” a reporter calls out.

I close my eyes and cringe.

I mean, I barely know Ashley and already I feel bad for her having to deal with this.

And what kind of asshole is this, asking that kind of question.

In a heartbeat the cringe is over and I’m about to fucking address this myself when Ashley steps in.

“Well, we just recently decided to get back together again, so I can understand that the President had to go through a number of different options until he realized that I was the best choice,” Ashley says with poise and grace. “We’re not all perfect like me, after all.”

Again laughter.

Jesus Christ. She’s good.

“Any plans on the wedding?” someone asks. Softball question.

“Just me and Austin and 300 million of our closest friends,” she says with a smile and the room laughs again.

They fucking love her.