Total pages in book: 8
Estimated words: 7026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 35(@200wpm)___ 28(@250wpm)___ 23(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 7026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 35(@200wpm)___ 28(@250wpm)___ 23(@300wpm)
two years later
I started as an intern for a congressman on the hill, but I’ve finally made it to the White House. It’s taken two long years, but I’ve made it. Today is the day. Today is the day I get to meet him, President Anderson. I stand near the entrance of the oval office, waiting for him to come down from the residence. I got in thirty minutes early to make sure everything is perfect. For two years, I perfected the art of getting coffee, collating paperwork, and light office cleaning. It’s finally paid off, and it got me here, exactly where I’ve longed to be. Right by the president's side, helping him any way that I can. Even in a national crisis, you can’t walk in off the street and work for the president, no matter how much it was needed. I get it, though, safety first. I imagine security was even tighter after a thing like that happened.
I sit down at my desk and move to turn the computer on, but nothing happens. I drop down onto the floor under the desk and try to organize the cords. My almost too-tight pencil skirt makes it hard to maneuver, but somehow I manage.
“Well, well, who do we have here?” A voice asks from behind me. A voice I’d know anywhere. I groan quietly. Of course, I’d meet the man who has haunted all my dreams and every single jilling sesh for the last two years for the first time with my ass in the air. That’s just my luck.
“Mr. President, I apologize,” I say, scrambling to my feet. I turn to face him and suck in a breath. He’s even hotter in person. I can feel my face getting hotter and hotter. I am sure I look like a tomato right now. Ugh.
“No need to apologize, Miss…,” he says, trailing off, clearly wanting me to tell him my name. He stares at me expectantly, his eyes boring into my soul.
“Daisy,” I say, then immediately regret it.
“Miss Daisy?” he asks, chuckling. I know he’s thinking of that old movie with the old lady being driven around by an old man. I remember watching it at school. It explored a lot of topics of things that still, unfortunately, plague this world. It was also really good; it won a bunch of awards.
“Yeah, I heard it,” I say, smiling.
“Wow, you have a beautiful smile. It’s dazzling,” he says. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but I can’t help it. You really do.”
“I bet you say that to all the secretaries,” I say, instinctively knowing that he doesn’t. This office has never had even a hint of scandal. I bite my bottom lip, collecting myself before speaking. Don’t blurt it out. Don’t blurt out that you just want to have lots of sex and babies with him. Don’t do it, Daisy.
“I really don’t, I assure you. I’ve barely had time to breathe in the last two years, let alone flirt with a pretty girl. Again, I apologize; I just can’t seem to help myself.”
“Really, sir. There is no need to apologize, besides what girl doesn’t like to be flirted with every now and again?” I say, proud of myself for not blurting it out.
“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you, Miss Daisy?” he says, rubbing his palm on his cheek. The sound of the friction of his hand against his stubble has me clenching my thighs.
“I certainly hope so, sir,” I say, leaning over to grab a steno pad and a pen. “What would you like me to do first?”
three
Taylor
What a loaded question. The most beautiful girl and I say girl because she can’t be more than twenty, stands in front of me in just about the sexiest skirt and blazer set I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen anything like her before. It’s like I can’t breathe, and I’m breathing deeply for the first time. I can’t explain it. I can’t explain why I am so enamored with her after two or three minutes. Her blond hair is shoulder length and wavy. The air conditioner has kicked on, and it’s gently blowing in the breeze. I can smell her perfume. It’s dark and sensual and permeating the air as though she just sprayed some on. Her blue eyes are staring at me. It’s like she can read my mind. God help us if she can. My thoughts are less than pure right now; they are downright filthy. Filthy, depraved thoughts that won’t stop coming.
“What’s that look for, sir?” she asks, jarring me from the fantasy of her and me. The look on her face is the only thing that compels me to move closer to her. I haven’t allowed myself a moment of pleasure in two years. I’ve done nothing but eat, sleep, and run the country. Being an unmarried president is unprecedented, but I get it. I had to have my mother hostess a small state dinner that had been on the books, but she’s since retired to Florida right along with my father. My younger sister lives there with her ever-expanding brood of children and her husband of five years.