Finally, I was the only one in the grey office. Even Jason had gone, dragging his feet down the hallway and allowing his briefcase to bounce against his legs.
I stood and walked toward the Oval, unbuttoning my blazer as I went. I tossed it onto the white couch in the Oval Office, standing in just my sheer, white button-up and my tight, grey skirt. Before me, the president smiled up at me, a pen in his hand. He signed his signature jauntily, and then he burst from the shackles of his desk. He brought his hand around my back and met his lips with mine, bending me back lightly for a passionate kiss in the dying light of the late October day. “Shall we?” he whispered.
I followed him down the hall, our hands nearly touching. The White House hallways were completely empty, giving me an eerie feeling in my gut. But soon, we had arrived at the White House movie theater. He led me to the front row, setting me up comfortably in a long, leaning chair. He held a finger up to his lips, alerting me that he’d be gone for just a moment. He appeared back with a large bowl of popcorn, with two glasses of wine. I held my hand open and accepted the wine. We clinked the glasses together. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment completely.
“What is it?” he asked me.
I blinked my eyes open in a moment, my eyelids so lazy. “Baby. I’m just so happy,” I murmured.
I laughed and brought his arm around me, cuddling me in the great White House theater chairs. Before us, the cinematic magic began. Key Largo, one of the old classics. Humphrey Bogart spoke gruffly on scene, his eyes dark and calculating. I brought my body closer and closer toward Xavier, feeling like we were one, there in that theater—that anything that ever came up against us would ultimately falter. We were far too strong, and we’d been through too much already.
In the middle of the movie, it cut to intermission. The lights were brought up a bit, bringing us up from our comfortable positions in our chairs.
I swallowed, tapping my empty glass of wine on the table before us. “What do you think so far?” I murmured, my eyes heavy. My body had begun to think only of Xavier beside me. I wanted him; I wanted to feel his arms around me.
Xavier looked at me, his eyes brimming with sensuality. “To be honest. I can’t think about the movie. I can’t think about anything but you.” His breath came hesitantly. And suddenly, he placed his hand around my head, bringing his lips toward mine. I felt so safe in this moment, held so tightly by the president. I allowed his lips to meet mine. In a spark of electricity, of zeal, we began to kiss passionately. I pushed my body toward his, bringing my breasts hard into his chest. He caught his other hand around my body, brimming around my ass. My pussy began to pulse, wanting his cock deep inside me.
Xavier broke away from the kiss for a moment, blinking around him. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.
I nodded, smiling a bit. “Where do you want to go?”
“The White House has many spectacular rooms,” Xavier murmured, kissing my cheek, my nose. “I have one all set up for us. You’ve heard of the Lincoln bedroom?”
My breath caught in my throat. Of course I’d heard of the Lincoln bedroom. It was the bedroom in which important people stayed when they visited the White House—the bedroom kept supreme, beautiful for fine guests. I swallowed, unsure of what to say.
“Come on,” Xavier whispered, sensing my joy. He brought my hand into his, and he led me down the hall. We swept down the curling staircases, laughing together and feeling this uproarious sense of happiness, of zeal.
He opened the Lincoln bedroom then, and revealed the marvelous, gold-laid and beautifully decorated room. I brought my hands to my mouth, staring at this portion of history—this stunning room that seemed to tell a story about the many hundreds of years of history—history that I knew Xavier and I would be a part of, someday. I lurched around to find Xavier closing the door, pushing at a small cart. In the cart was a chilling bottle of champagne and two champagne glasses.
“Shall we have a toast?” he asked me. He brought the champagne into the air, eyeing the label. “It’s a 1980 bottle. Amazing what they keep around here,” he said, winking at me. He removed the fine wrapping from the top and allowed the cork to pop—high—into the air in the Lincoln bedroom. The noise emanated throughout the room. I clapped my hands, laughing, allowing my teeth to cut out from my mouth.
He poured the champagne, and we clinked glasses, our eyes linked. In that moment, I felt that we were officially one. The bubbles coursed down my throat, to my stomach. I closed my eyes. In that moment, I felt Xavier’s mouth over mine once more. The surprise made my heart race. I set the champagne on the bedside table, and I allowed him to lay me down on the bed, kissing over me, rolling his tongue over mine. I sighed deeply.
He began to unbutton my shirt then. My bra gleamed beneath, and he ran his fingers through the top, making my nipples pop from beneath. They were so brown, so secret beneath the white.
He pulled my skirt from my body, followed by my tights. I lay, splayed out, naked and thin on the sheets. My brunette hair curled around my shoulders. He stood before me, looking down at my body. He reached for his champagne glass and sipped at it, studying me. “You should show me,” he whispered then.
“Show you what?” I asked.
“How you pleasure yourself.”
My eyes grew bright. I brought my hands toward my hot, dripping pussy. I felt myself, how ready I was for him. God, I wanted him. As soon as I touched my clit, my brain began to open, to make me feel like an animal—an animal with needs, with desires. I sighed as I began to rub at myself, closing my eyes.
“Yeah, baby. I like watching you touch yourself,” Xavier murmured. He set his champagne glass back down, and he laid beside me, bringing his tongue around and around my nipple as I continued to touch myself. He removed his pulsing cock from his pants then. He remained in his presidential suit and tie, but his huge, brimming cock was out, ready to take me.
I sighed as I continued to rub myself, feeling myself. And he rolled me over, bringing his dick into my hot pussy from behind. I called out, loudly, as he entered me. I reached up and grabbed my tits, feeling the passion of the moment course through me. I felt like I was on display, being the only naked one in the room—like it was all about me, about my body, about my pussy, about my great breasts. “Yeah, baby,” I murmured. “Harder. Yeah.”
“You like that? You like when I fuck you like this?” Xavier murmured in my ear from behind.
I brought myself up on my four limbs, allowing him to mount me, doggy style. All the while, I felt like I was going crazy as his dick dipped further and further into me, forcing my eyes closed. “Yes.” I felt an initial orgasm shudder through me. I fell onto the bed, blasting at my breasts and feeling as my pussy pulsed around his dick, feeling like the orgasm was going to be the end of my life, the end of everything. And that was okay.
After a few moments, I opened my eyes. I spun around, groggy-eyed, still feeling the pleasure course through me. I brought my fingers up, toward his buttons, and began to forcefully remove his taut, muscled body from his presidential gear. “Get na
ked for me, Mr. President,” I whispered in his ear. I placed my hand on his cock, stroking it, making it hard once more. “Come on, Mr. President.”
He helped me remove his clothes hurriedly, dropping his pants to the ground. I was beneath him then. I placed my hands over his taut chest, feeling his heart beating so fast. I shook my head, allowing my eyes to falter as he thrust his dick back into me once more. “God. You feel so good,” I murmured.
He brought his mouth around my nipples, thrusting, holding my body close to his. It felt like, there on the Lincoln bed, we were one person, one organism. We were united. His eyes dipped into mine; the eye contact was almost too much for me to bear. I felt like I could see into his soul.