There’s something weirdly familiar about the shape of his face. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
I frown, trying to smooth down the wrinkles in my skirt. “It was an accident. There’s no need to be rude.”
“I don’t have time for accidents,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes at me. “Not today.”
I don’t want to start a fight. But this whole thing has been an honest mistake. And although it’s my fault too, the guy bumped into me just as hard as I bumped into him. I’m not expecting an apology, but he doesn’t have to be so annoying about it all.
When I don’t respond, he gives me a stern look and turns around with an entitled flair. Like he owns the place.
I still don’t know what it is, but even the back of his head makes me think that I know him from somewhere...
“You’re the one that had your hands on my boobs a minute ago, pervert,” I call out. “You don’t see me being an asshole about it, do you?”
With his back to me, the man stops. Slowly, he spins around.
And I gasp.
The reason he’s so familiar… is because I know who he is. Exactly who he is. In fact, I’d be shocked if anyone on the entire planet didn’t recognize him.
I’m talking to President Shepard.
The President Shepard.
The youngest man ever to become President of the United States. The thirty-year-old genius lawyer-turned-politician who rose to power with the highest percentage of the popular vote in history. The man who ran for president without being attached to either major political party… and somehow came out on top. The #1 entry for Hello Magazine’s ‘Hottest Celebrity Bachelors Ranked’ article that I’d been reading just this morning.
A man who is changing the world every single day.
And I just got cranky with him.
“You’re…” I can’t help stumbling over my words. “Oh my god. You’re him.”
The man - President goddamn Shepard - raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Who is ‘him’, exactly?”
When I open my mouth, struggling to remember the English language, nothing comes out.
“Be careful where you walk,” he says, after a few excruciating moments of me staring at him slack-jawed. “Not everyone is as forgiving as I am.”
And then just like that… he’s gone. So quickly that I’d doubt any of it really happened if it wasn’t for the ruined mess of a coffee cup sitting on the lawn.
I just spilt my coffee after crashing into the President of the United States.
Scratch that. I called the President of the United States an asshole. And a pervert.
Accident or not, the President of the United States had his hands on my breasts.
I groan. All I want is to slump down to the floor again and curl up in a ball of embarrassment. This can’t be happening to me. For God’s sake, it’s only my first day on the job. The most stressful thing I should have to be worrying about is remembering the names of everyone I’m introduced to, not accusing the most powerful man in the world of feeling me up.
Oh God. I’m going to get fired.
“Miss Waters? Is that you?”
Filled with dread, I turn around. The last person I want to see right now - other than the freaking President, which is something I never thought I’d say - is tapping me on the shoulder.
“Mr Andrews,” I exclaim. “Sir! I was, um, just looking for you.” The lie isn’t a particularly good one.
“Just the girl I was trying to find,” he says. “Come on, the press conference is over. I need you to come with me. I’ll give you the full tour, okay?”
I blink in confusion. “But what about your coffee?”
“My…” He looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head. “Oh, never mind that. Did you put it in my office? It’ll be cold by the time we get back, anyway.”
I don’t know whether to scream in frustration or punch the air wildly in relief. My heart feels as if it’s about to explode out of my chest.
“Let’s go, then,” Mr Andrews says, nudging me forwards. “I hope my absence wasn’t too confusing for you. But that’s the kind of life we live here. There’s never a spare moment to relax, you’ll see.”
“I’m starting to understand that, sir,” I say, nodding.
“You’ll get used to it all eventually I’m sure,” he says, patting my arm. “I’m- huh. Is that a coffee stain on your shirt?”
I flush a deep red. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try to wash it out immediately.”
“Oh, I’m sure nobody else will notice. Come on.” He gives me an understanding smile that I’m grateful for. “We have a lot to cover. And if you’re lucky…” He winks at me. “You might even get to meet the President.”
David
I step into my office. It’s just my luck, someone spilling secrets in the White House and an intern spilling coffee all over me. It’s hard to say which is more annoying.
I close the door behind me and begin to unbutton my shirt.
It was obvious she was an intern. I could tell by the way she dressed. Though she is hardly the type of intern I am used to. I mean… calling me a ‘pervert’, really?
I won’t deny the touch of her breast felt shockingly good in my hand. And yes, I am currently thinking about her breasts, and that glimpse I got of them down her shirt as I offered to help her up. And what I’d like to do to them if I-
No, those thoughts are not appropriate for the President of the United States to be having about an intern.
I slide my shirt off. It’s a good thing I have a spare in the office, otherwise I’d have to spend the day in a stained shirt and people would talk. Or perhaps I could have spent it without a shirt, and given them something proper to talk about. Like how the President manages to have a six-pack while working his ludicrous hours.
And I’ve certainly pulled some ludicrous hours lately. This whole situation, someone leaking to the press, is taking nearly all my time to deal with. I didn’t want it to be like this. The presidency was supposed to be about making a difference for the people of this country, not to mess around in PR.
Yet public relations seemed to be dictating my entire life. How I work, how I live, who I live with…
I frown and collapse onto the couch. It’s going to be a long four years. No relationships, public or otherwise, are allowed.
Sometimes I wish I could just forget about my public image and do whatever I damn well please. Do whoever I damn well please. I slowly begin to smile.
I think I’d start with that intern. It would be so easy to call her into my office just as everyone was starting to leave. Distract her with a few questions about some unimportant paperwork. Pretend to notice the time, offer her a drink and then guide her to the couch. She’d laugh at some obvious joke I’d make, and twirl her hair.
Then I’d gently place my hand on her knee. Slowly, as I stared into her tawny brown eyes, my hand would make its way up until it was resting on her inner thigh.
She’d bite her lip.
I’d inch closer.
And then I’d kiss her. Hard. She would buckle under me, moaning in pleasure as I’d kiss her neck. My hand would slide further up her skirt, while the other made its way inside her blouse.