THE PRESIDENT'S GIRLFRIEND Read online

  Well, to hell with him, she thought, and moved to get out of bed. Until she realized she was still completely naked.

  She looked at Christian, who looked thoroughly contrite. “Will you excuse me so I can get dressed?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But . . .”

  “But what?” She didn’t see where it would be up for debate.

  “I know you’re upset with the president, ma’am, and you should be. I thought it was a . . . bad move on his part leaving you like this.”

  “Did you share that opinion with him?”

  “Oh, no ma’am, I couldn’t. I mean, I can’t just. . . He’s the president, ma’am.”

  “And that gives him a license to treat people any way he pleases?”

  “No, of course not,” Christian said, trying him best to be reasonable. “But, he left me behind to make sure you were okay and that you got home safe. That’s why he made me stay here in Newark. He’d never done that before.”

  Gina frowned, stared at Christian. “Never done what before?”

  “He’s never, after, I mean---”

  “What you mean to say is that after he’s fucked other women in the various hotels of the various towns where he’s appeared in the past, he’s never asked you to see them safely home. Is that what you mean, Chris?”

  Christian swallowed hard, his hands clutched together in front of him. She was so blunt, he thought, and so right on. “Yes,” was all he could manage to say.

  “And I’m supposed to feel privileged by the fact that he left an escort for me?”

  Christian wanted to be anywhere but here. “Yes,” he said truthfully again.

  “Like hell,” Gina said. Then she frowned disgustedly. “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said.

  “He’s not like that,” Christian blurted out, his blue eyes wide with apprehension. Gina looked at him. “I mean, yes, he’s dated a lot of women, if you can call it dating. He’s a bachelor who’s been in the public eye for eight straight years, five as a United States Senator and three now as president, and he has to pick his moments. I mean, with respect, Miss Lansing, who do you think you’re dealing with? You had to know this wouldn’t be a regular kind of relationship, not with Dutch Harber, you had to have known that. Didn’t you?”

  Gina stared at Christian. She knew it would be a different kind of affair, she knew that going in. But that still didn’t give Dutch license to treat her as if she was that one-night-stand he banged in Miami. She’d never accept that.

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said to Christian.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Christian said, and left.

  NINE

  Monday morning and Gina was late for work. She walked into BBR headquarters after eleven am, three hours off of her normal schedule. She wore shades to cover up her tired eyes, and carried her briefcase and a cup of coffee. LaLa was waiting for her, sitting behind her desk in the office they shared, and Dempsey was seated on the edge of the desk.

  “Where in the world have you been?” LaLa asked as soon as she walked in. “And why didn’t you turn on your cell phone?”

  Gina had a headache out of this world and really didn’t want to hear it. After that experience Saturday night, where she gave it up to Dutch, once again, and didn’t even get a chance to so much as mention that appropriations bill that now sat on his desk, she was too disgusted with herself to even call her friends. And facing them today, with all of the questions she knew they had, was almost unbearable.

  “Good morning to you, too,” she said as she moved over to her desk and sat herself and her briefcase down. She grasp hold of her cup of coffee with both hands and began sipping it.

  “You look awful,” Dempsey said.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I mean drained, tired. That’s all I meant, Gina. When you should be celebrating.”

  Gina stared at Dempsey and LaLa. They looked so cheerful. They actually thought she had convinced Dutch. They were actually expecting her to bust out with some big news. Her heart dropped. “And why should I be celebrating?” she asked him.

  “Haven’t you heard?” LaLa asked.

  “Heard what?”

  LaLa smiled, looked at Dempsey. “I told you she didn’t know.”

  “Know what, LaLa? What is it?”

  LaLa sat up straight in her chair. “Well, whatever you did to that man Saturday night, girl, it worked Monday morning because our President Walter “Dutch” Harber has vetoed the appropriations bill.”

  Gina snatched her shades off of her face. “You lyin’!”

  “He vetoed it and sent it back to Congress!”

  Gina smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Really?”

  “You mean you didn’t know?” Dempsey asked her. “He didn’t tell you he was going to do it?”

  Gina shook her head. “No, he didn’t tell me anything. We didn’t even discuss it.”

  “Didn’t discuss it?” LaLa asked, confused. “Then what the hell did you meet with him for if you didn’t discuss it?”

  Gina’s desk intercom buzzed. Saved by the bell, she thought. “Yes, Al?”

  “A Mr. Herbert Montescue is here to see you, Tore.”

  Gina looked at LaLa puzzled. LaLa was puzzled too. “Send him in,” Gina ordered. “Who’s Herbert Montescue?” she immediately asked.

  “Hell if I know,” LaLa replied.

  The office door opened and a tall, well built man in his mid-forties entered. “Regina Lansing?” he asked as he walked toward her.

  “Yes,” Gina said as she stood to her feet. “And this is my business associates, Loretta King and Dempsey Cooper.”

  “Miss King, Mr. Cooper, nice to meet you.”

  “Have a seat, Mr. Montescue.”

  “Thank-you,” Montescue said cheerfully as he sat in front of Gina’s desk. Gina also sat down. “I know you’re wondering why I’m here, so I’ll be short and sweet and to the point. I’m a businessman from Tennessee, a friend of a friend of yours.”

  “And who’s this friend?” LaLa asked him.

  Montescue looked to his side. He smiled at LaLa but addressed Gina. “Dutch Harber,” he said in a lowered tone.

  Gina glanced at LaLa. “Go on,” she said.

  “Well, Dutch and I were talking yesterday, he was in Tennessee taking a look at that awful flood damage along the Cumberland. Well he pulled me aside and we got to talking, just general conversation you understand, and he mentioned some worthy causes around the country that he found interesting. No endorsements of any sort, mind. No endorsements at all. But interesting, he said. They were interesting causes that he personally found interesting. Such as Block by Block Raiders, for example.” He looked directly at Gina when he said this.

  “And what exactly did he find interesting about BBR?” LaLa asked. She didn’t like Montescue. He spoke in riddles.

  “Perhaps I can speak with you alone, Miss Lansing?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Gina said. “She’s okay. So, if I understand you correctly, you decided to check out our organization because we won the Mountain Movers award?”

  “Exactly,” Montescue said in a relieved tone. Dutch was right, he thought. She is sharp. “And so I wish to donate,” he said, pulling out his checkbook, “to this worthy cause.”

  Gina’s heart began to soar. She glanced at LaLa, who was holding her breath.

  “If that’s all right with you?” Montescue asked.

  “Yes,” Gina said, working hard to contain her elation. “All donations are appreciated.”

  Montescue wrote the check and then ripped it from his checkbook, handing it to Gina. Then he immediately stood up. “Well, I’d better get back,” he said. “As I stated earlier, I, too, found your organization here interesting and thought I’d do my part.” He extended his hand. “You have a wonderful day, Miss Lansing,” he said.

  “You too, Mr. Montescue. And thank-you so much.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, placing his checkbook back inside his suit coat pocket. �
��I’m just privileged to be a friend of your friend. Oh, and of course, I have other like-minded friends who would be very interested in a program such as yours. Perhaps they can likewise get in touch?”

  “Yes, by all means,” Gina said. “We would be most appreciative.”

  Montescue smiled. Looked Gina up and down. She wasn’t the sort he would have thought a man like Dutch Harber would find attractive, but for some odd reason, he could see absolutely why he’d find her attractive. “Goodbye, Miss Lansing.” He looked toward Dempsey and LaLa. “Miss King, Mr. Cooper.”

  Then he walked out.

  After he walked out, Dempsey and LaLa hurried to Gina’s desk. Gina finally looked at the check amount.

  “It better not be in the hundreds,” LaLa said. “Not if the president ordered him to do it.”

  “The president can’t order him to do any such thing,” Dempsey said. “That would be illegal.”

  “That check ain’t illegal though, is it?” LaLa asked Dempsey.

  “No,” Dempsey assured her. “I mean, what’s to stop a friend of the president’s from donating to an organization run by another one of his, quote unquote, ‘friends’?”

  “How much is it, Tore?” LaLa asked in great anticipation.

  Gina looked at her best friend, speechless.

  “What?” LaLa anxiously wanted to know.

  Gina swallowed hard. “Four hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars,” she said.

  Dempsey snatched the check from her hands to see it with his own two eyes.

  LaLa fainted.

  +++

  Two hours later, when her day couldn’t get any better, it actually did. She was in Cribb’s, a sports bar they often frequented for lunch, with a now fully recovered LaLa, Dempsey, and Frank, when her cell phone began to ring. They were celebrating, not just the major donation, their biggest private donation ever, one that would keep the doors open until Congress got its act together. But they were also celebrating the fact that Dutch had vetoed that appropriations bill. When she looked at her Caller ID and saw that it was Christian, she excused herself and hurried through the bar’s exit.

  “Hey, Christian,” she said once she stepped outside, “tell Dutch great move.”

  “Why don’t you tell me yourself,” Dutch replied on the phone. He was in a limousine on his way to visit wounded troops at Walter Reed.

  Gina was astounded to hear that it was his voice, and not Christian’s. “I didn’t think you were allowed to talk on telephones.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Dutch replied, “and why’s that?”

  “Saturday night together,” she said, remembering how hard he pounded her. “No phone call whatsoever on Sunday.”

  “Didn’t have a moment’s free time on Sunday.” Dutch remembered, too. Remembered how she arched that fabulous brown body up to his as his dick slid deeper into her.

  “No free time,” Gina said, “except to pull certain businessmen aside and sing the praises of BBR. Of which I also thank-you.”

  “All of the award winning organizations are worthy causes.” He said this so formally that Gina realized she had to check herself. What Montescue did for BBR had to have no direct connection to him.

  “I agree,” she said.

  “I’ve arrived at my destination so I’ve got to run,” he said as the limo eased to a stop. “Have dinner with me Friday night.”

  Gina was immediately hesitant.

  “I would prefer sooner,” Dutch went on, “but with my super-hectic schedule it can’t be any sooner.”

  “You work too hard,” Gina found herself saying. “I used to always think that when I’d see you on television.”

  “You’re correct. But it goes with the territory. A car will meet you at the airport. Chris will phone later with more details, but I’ve got to run.”

  “But wait a minute,” Gina said, panic seeping through her. “I haven’t said yes.”

  “Then say it.” She’d never know it, but Dutch was holding his breath.

  Gina rubbed her forehead. Why she was always allowing herself to be suckered like this, she’d never know. “Yes,” she said.

  He smiled relief. “Chris will phone. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too.”

  And just like that, what she thought was off and off forevermore, was on again.

  TEN

  Christian was in the limo that met her at the airport and the ride to the White House was a relaxing one. Unlike that night at the hotel in Newark, or even their “meeting” that night after the awards ceremony, Gina didn’t feel the anxiety or pressure she used to feel. Getting that bill vetoed certainly helped, especially when one of the reasons for the veto Dutch cited was that he would not sign a bill that balanced the budget on the backs of the poor and middle class without balancing revenues on the top earners as well. And Herb Montescue’s big check helped, too.

  “What are you thinking?” Christian asked her. He somehow felt a sense of comradeship with Gina. He’d seen women come and go at the White House, but he’d never seen the same woman come as many times as Dutch had Gina coming. Which pleased him mightily. Of all of Dutch’s females, there was something about this one that seemed so promising to him.

  “I was just realizing an awful truth,” Gina replied.

  Christian looked at her. “What awful truth?”

  “That I’ve been so concerned about the future viability of BBR, that it’s commanded almost all of her time. Now that we have more donors and we’re turning that corner, I feel as if a burden’s been lifted and I can now get on with my life. Sounds crazy?”

  “No, ma’am, not at all.”

  “Christian, why do you call me ma’am? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five, ma’am.”

  “Well I’m only thirty-five so it’s not like I’m ancient either.”

  “I understand that, ma’am, I mean. . . The president would be highly upset if I treated you with any less respect.”

  Gina looked at Christian. This may be a unique chance to get a better read on Dutch. “The way you describe him he seem so stern and rigid. Is he really like that?”

  “No, ma’am, but, I mean, he’s the president.” He said this as if that explained it all, and then looked, once again, out of the window.

  Gina leaned back. Dutch had warned her that this was another world she would be stepping into, and she had better understand that. But now she wondered if she understood a thing about this new world.

  The limo stopped at a side portico at the White House and Gina prepared to get out. She wore a sleek aqua and white dress, black stilettos with just a splash of aqua, and a gold scarf around her neck. Her braids were in an up-do that highlighted the beautiful contours of her face. When Christian first saw her he thought she looked angelic, and told her so. When the door to the limo opened and, to her surprise, she didn’t have to get out because Dutch got in, she could see that same admiring look in his eyes that she had seen in Chris’s.

  As soon as Christian got out of the limo and the doors were closed, Dutch pulled her into his arms, kissing her as he did. He was literally moaning as he kissed her, and Gina wondered more than once if the driver could hear him. When they separated, although he kept her in his arms, he looked at her, at her hair and her face, and smiled. “You’re a wonderful addiction, lady, you know that?”

  “You’ve mentioned it before,” Gina said with a smile of her own, taking her hand and touching the lines on the side of his gorgeous green eyes. He looked tired and drained to her, but exuberant too. As if he was going to take this break from all of his worries and make the absolute most of it.

  And they were off, driving to Mirth, a restaurant not that far from Washington Avenue, and one she’d never ventured into. She didn’t realize they were a part of a convoy of cars and SUVs until she and Dutch stepped out. There were no cameras waiting to flash, because this was not an officially announced event for the president, causing the press to have to scramble. But it was clear to Gina when they e
ntered by a back entrance at the restaurant that the secret service had done its job. An entire private section of Mirth had been condoned off just for the two of them.

  After a wonderful meal and great Champagne, they made their way back to the White House residence. To Gina’s delight, he didn’t take her to his “love shack” or whatever bedroom name he had for it, but into another large bedroom that looked more lived-in, more comfortable than the previous room.