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