The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,4

have planned. Apparently the Treasury is estimating it will cost half a billion more than I had promised.

That was yesterday afternoon, right in time for the evening news broadcasts.

I spent most of the night working out how to deal with it. I hadn’t even seen the Treasury documents, so I had to check the numbers and come up with a way to convince the public that they were wrong. Because they are.

If I wasn’t president, I would probably have met a nice woman for dinner, taken her back to mine for a glass or two of red, and then stripped her and had my way with her.

No, I can’t afford to be distracted. I shake my head slightly and check the notes.

The Press Office has come up with similar points to mine: misdirection and denial. Not as good, obviously, but good enough.

“This looks good, well done,” I say. Diplomacy is important. With someone in the White House leaking information to make me look bad, I don’t need to make any more enemies. “I’ll incorporate this into my notes.”

Miss Robertson purses her lips, seemingly satisfied. “Don’t forget. We don’t want to admit we have a leaker, so don’t answer any questions about that.”

I nod.

“And do you have a good soundbite prepared?” she asks. “We have a few friendly journalists in today who’ll be able to push a clip out through the major channels.”

“Of course.”

She looks appeased. “Alright, let’s get you over there and ready for the cameras.”

I get up from my desk and follow her out of the room.

Maybe I should have listened to my mother and stayed in law. The money was good… really good. Part of me misses it, being away from the public eye and free to do whatever I want.

Free to fuck whoever I want. As president, I have to show restraint. I can’t just hit up Tinder and swipe my way into someone’s bed.

The thought makes me laugh. Imagine, swiping your way across the President of the United States. He takes you out to dinner... romances you in candlelight, has you driven back to the White House by the Secret Service, and takes you upstairs. He guides you into the bedroom, gently at first, but before you know it you’re on your knees begging for his cock. Begging for him to fuck you, use you, take you.

I cough. What is it with me today? Why can’t I get it all out of my mind?

No, my thoughts don’t matter. I am in control and being President of the United States, making an actual difference to my country…

It’s all worth it. But God, I would kill for a fuck.

Veronica

“Fetch me a coffee,” Mr Andrews had said. He’d only asked for a coffee.

How have I gotten so lost? A task so simple shouldn’t be so hard. Failure isn’t a word that I’m used to.

But… the thing I’ve now discovered about the White House is that the corridors all tend to look the same, blending into a jumbled mess of ornate furnishings and framed old-timey artifacts. And it’s not like Mr Andrews had made time to give me a tour before sending me out.

It had all been mind-bogglingly quick. One moment I’d been slumped over in Rebecca Hamilton’s office, dreading being shipped off to some local government office in the middle of nowhere. Then Mr Andrews had appeared and offered me everything I could ever hope for.

The second I’d taken his hand, he’d made me follow him out of the office and told me he had to run off to a Press Conference.

“I’d take you with me,” he’d said, looking apologetic, “but it’s only ten minutes away and I don’t have time to prep you properly. Not on your first day of the job, anyway.”

“I learn fast, sir,” I’d vowed. The idea of being part of a real-life press conference… being so close to power is an opportunity most people would kill for.

“Nevertheless, I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He’d tapped me comfortingly on the arm. “Tell you what, how about you go pick me up a triple mocha hazelnut latte, sweetie?”

I’d nodded quickly, eager to please my new boss. But how was I to know that this place was an actual maze? I assume there must be a cafeteria somewhere around here. But there are no signs or directions to indicate exactly where it might be.

My phone buzzes. I covertly smuggle it out from my pocket and glance at it.

Lacey Smith: hope your first day is going well! wishing