Page 2 of Praise Me: President
Oh God. Were my deviant thoughts so obvious?
I’m still reeling over the possibility that the president read my mind when he dismisses everyone in the room and I turn to leave with them, but my black, pointed flats draw to a pause when that deep voice carries across the office.
“Ms. Rogers, if I might have a word?”
two
. . .
Pierce
No fucking waythis is going to work.
That was my initial thought when I found out this…girl in her tight skirt and wide, innocent eyes is my youth council secretary. She’s a distraction of the highest order. One that I definitely don’t need when the eyes of the entire free world are locked on me, waiting with bated breath to see what I’ll do with my first hundred days.
So why am I asking her to remain in the Oval Office post-meeting?
Last time I checked, I wasn’t a masochist.
No, I’m the opposite. A survivalist.
But as this young brunette with swollen lips and pink cheeks marches back toward my desk, I don’t see how I’m going to survive close quarters with her. When I decided to run for president, I swore off sexual flings of any kind. My war record has earned me a lot of leeway with the American public—they know I’m not some squeaky-clean robot who spouts a bunch ofpolitical jargon and expects everyone to swallow it whole. But I do have a responsibility to the people who voted me into the highest position in this country not to be a goddamn lecher. Ms. Rogers…my God, she makes me feel like one.
And that’s not her fault.
She can’t help that she’s a knockout, all long legs and perky tits.
A face that puts angels to shame.
Jesus, she’s probably a decade younger than me.
“Yes, Mr. President?” she says, stopping a few feet away, the toe of her right foot turning inward, as if suddenly shy. Is this the same girl who appeared to be undressing me with her eyes during the debrief? Maybe I only dreamed the way her eyes turned a molten blue, roaming over the front of my pants.
Definitely a dream.
Had to be. The girl standing in front of me now has her pen poised above her clipboard, ready to take notes, her demeanor professional to a fault.
For the second time, I clear my throat out of necessity, doing everything in my power to keep from asking her if she has a boyfriend. I’m recalling more and more about her vetting process and there’s no husband to speak of. Still, there could be someone she’s seeing in an unofficial capacity. Not that it’s any of my business. “I was wondering where you’ll be working. Where is your official post?”
“Downstairs, sir. I share an office with the Secretary of Education.” She smiles, showing off a row of perfect, white teeth. “You designed it that way, don’t you remember? You thought the youth council should work hand in hand with education.”
“Right. It’s all coming back to me now.” Chagrined, I rub my chin, expecting to encounter my beard, but feeling smooth skin, instead. Damn, I’m never getting used to this new life. Working in an air-conditioned office, instead of the desert.Talking around a problem, instead of getting to the meat of it for efficiency’s sake. I only vetted Ms. Rogers thirty days ago, but I’ve gone in countless directions since then, every choice I make affecting millions of lives. That reality sits on my shoulders like ten tons of bricks. “Decisions I made a month ago feel like they were made over a decade ago.”
“You’re making hundreds of them every day, sir. That’s understandable.”
I grunt, refusing to give myself the out.
“Take the excuse,” she whispers to me, winking. “It’s okay. You’re working hard.”
Yeah. Already, this relationship feels inappropriate, and I don’t know when or how it happened. Perhaps I’m just inappropriately attracted to Ms. Eloise Rogers, thus every word out of her mouth feels like she’s whispering it to me across a pillow.
Dismiss her now.
Get back to work.
I will. In a minute.
I just…can’t remember a time when someone’s presence cut through all the noise like this. I’ve been trapped in a whirlwind of chaos while campaigning. Now I’ve been sworn in and the mayhem still hasn’t stopped. I’m presented with a sea of faces and voices every day, yet she stands out over all of them. By a goddamn landslide. I can’t explain it.