rodeo style

I couldn’t have been more nervous as I entered the small cinema in the White House. The room was dimly lit, but even so I could make out the figure sitting in the middle of the bottom row, facing the blank screen. He was alone, as I’d been told.

The President of the United States!

He was a good man, a credit to the nation. Since taking over from Obama, he’d carried on the former President’s good work and then some. At home and abroad, he was recognised for his tremendous commitment to making the world a better place.

That made tonight all the more difficult to believe. Why would such a decent family man risk everything for a half an hour of pleasure with one of his country’s most exclusive hookers? But then, I’d learned some time ago that in the corridors of power, it was invariably sex that made the world go round.

Twenty-four months ago I’d never even been to America. Had anyone back in England predicted what was to happen when I relocated to the States, I’d have thought they were mad. My life had changed out of all recognition ever since that day I’d been spotted by a talent scout, so to speak, while working in a restaurant.

He had eventually persuaded me to capitalise on my best assets and take a small-time modelling job. After that, one thing had led to another. In no time at all, I’d gone from a naive model to a bashful escort to one of the country’s most highly-paid hookers. How could I have reached such a status so quickly? It still felt like a dream.

And now, here I was, making my way down to the front of the theatre in the White House. Today was the President’s birthday. I was his gift.

The blow job had been paid for by some of his biggest supporters, or so I’d been told. In my line of work, I’d learned that the fewer questions asked the better. Even though he was only able to escape the celebrations for half an hour, it had been drummed into me that my task was to make the experience unforgettable.

That shouldn’t be too difficult. My oral skills were why I earned mega-bucks, after all.

Well, they were one of the reasons. I fucked like a rabbit, too.

I’d enjoyed sex ever since I was a young woman and, for whatever reason, I just seemed to have a knack for this kind of work. I’d been nervous the first few times, but it hadn’t been long before I’d thrown any delusions of inhibitions out of the window.

Tonight’s engagement was different to my normal assignments, of course. First, this was the President and second, it was a blow job only. The President didn’t fuck other women, just his beautiful wife.

His fingers were steepled in front of him and his eyes were closed, almost as if he was in prayer. When they opened and found me standing in front of him, they slowly covered the whole of my body. It wasn’t a lewd gaze, not like a lot of the guys I’d been with. It was a genuine look of appreciation that made me feel alive.

Like I was the sexiest women in the world, right then…

A woman didn’t attend a White House party unless she was glamorously dressed and my cream-colored evening gown was perfect for the occasion. It hung loosely from its high, haltered neck and offered as much of my braless cleavage as was fitting for such an occasion. The sudden glow that appeared in his eyes told me he approved.

I felt like a Princess.

A black Princess fit enough to go down on a black President.

When his eyes eventually raised themselves high enough to meet mine, I felt an instant connection. The romantic in me hadn’t imagined the moment, had it? Without a word, he’d made me feel special.

My heart was in my mouth as I sank to my knees infront of him. Soon , it wouldn’t be the only thing there…


His circumcised penis was beautiful. It was an even darker shade of black than I’d imagined and it leaned slightly to the left.

How cute!

And I was happy to see that he was already semi-erect, even if it had meant a brief embarrassing moment when I’d struggled to release him first from his tuxedo trousers and then his boxer shorts. I’d always loved the way men got hard at the thought of having my body, even before I’d touched them. They only needed to look at me and their cocks grew just from the anticipation that was tumbling through their heads.

In this case, the President’s hands had gone to the arms of his seat, gripping them tightly as I’d freed him. He was nervous as I was.

I loved that thought.

“You have a beautiful cock, Mr. President,” I told him, trying to put him at ease.

I curled one hand around his thick girth, stroking him gently as I stared up into his eyes. An almost imperceptible growl escaped his throat but I was listening for it.

“Very beautiful,” I added, leaning forward to lap at the bead of pre-cum that had formed on the tip of his manhood.

He grew another inch and I felt a shudder of desire pass through me. This was going to be more pleasure than work.

I smiled up at him from between his knees as I sucked it between my full, glossy red lips. His eyes were narrowed now, the look of a man in a high state of arousal. I would have to be careful or this could be over before it started. A half an hour wasn’t long, but I was determined to make the full use of my allocation.

He grew even further as soon as I lowered my lips onto to his erect penis. I hadn’t yet met a man who could resist my sucking mouth.

He wasn’t the biggest I’d ever had, but he was impressive enough. And he was the President. What girl could want more?

I kept my eyes on his face as I sucked him—wanting to capture every expression so that I could replay them over and over again in my mind later, when I was lying in bed fingering myself. I was a nobody. This was the most powerful man on earth. And I was sucking his cock.

Gratifyingly, he continued to stare down at me as I moved slowly, my eager mouth all over him. My wide eyes hypnotically held his as I stared upwards from between his thighs, putting on a visual show to compliment the sensations created by my tongue.

When one of his Presidential hands went to my black hair, the action lit a warm glow inside me. It was his first participatory move. Saliva began to drool from my sucking lips and I worked it into his throbbing length with both hands. My eyes smiled into his as his fingers began to appreciatively stroke my dark locks and I found myself wishing he would talk to me.

I took my time, making sure that I continually kept him at simmering point but easing off each time I felt him beginning to boil. This was my territory. I was the best and I knew it.

He was grunting continuously now, and the delicious feeling of his Presidential cock throbbing in my mouth had my own arousal at fever pitch. It was all I could do to stop myself from dropping a hand between my legs and rubbing myself. This was the President’s gig, not mine. Every thought had to be focused on his pleasure, not mine.

Even so, despite the instructions that had been rammed into to me before I’d entered the room, I decided to up the ante. When was a girl ever going to get an opportunity like this again?

Reaching upwards, I released the ties of my halter top.

The President’s eyes were all over my ebony coloured tits as I slowly pulled the top of my dress away. Every man I’d ever been with had told me what great tits I had. How they loved my chocolate-coloured nipples. It looked as if I had Presidential approval, too.

I shivered in delight at the thought.

“Want to touch them?” I audaciously asked, hoping I wasn’t overstepping the mark.

I took his large hands in mine and placed them on my breasts. The feeling of his palms as he cupped them was amazing. So was the warmth. At first he seemed uncertain, but I held my palms over his until he began to squeeze them, test their firmness and shape.

I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t disappointed…

When I took my hands away, he kept his in position, growing bolder as his thumbs flicked my nipples.

I almost creamed there and then.

“Let me,” I whispered, gently pulling his hands away.

The instant glimpse of disappointment that appeared in his dark eyes changed instantly when I wrapped my tits around his wonderful hardness. His Presidential cock twitched as I enveloped him. I smiled into his aroused eyes and let him watch as I dribbled saliva down from my mouth into the valley that had now captured his manhood.

Then I gently began to move on him.

“Have you ever been tit-fucked before, Mr. President?”

His answer was a low growl. I loved that sound. He was almost as aroused as I was…

“You like that?” I continued to tease, aware that my tone was hoarse.

He didn’t speak, but the slight incline of his shaved head gave me the assurance I was seeking. He was gasping with every smooth movement and I adored the way he had joined in, closing his eyes and bucking his hips upwards in an attempt to increase the friction.

In no time at all, we had established a rhythm that was difficult to resist. His breathing was becoming heavier, and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. No man had ever been able to resist my speciality.

Not even the President of the United States, it seemed.

When the dim lights flickered around us, I knew that was the signal for me to get out of there. Had half an hour passed that quickly? I let my mouth join the action, taking him between my glossy red lips each time the head of his cock reappeared from my valley of flesh. All of a sudden it was too much for him and I was about to gain my reward.

I pulled my tits away and slithered back down between his legs just in time for the first blast of Presidential cum to splatter across my forehead and cheek. The second hit my black hair and the third found my lips. Those were my instructions, but I needed, wanted, more.

Grasping the base of his thickness, I took his still throbbing cock between my lips again. Sucking hard while my fingers stroked him, I milked out and swallowed every last drop of his creamy cum.

It was too good to resist.

It was only when he had nothing left that I released him, slumping down happily between his legs again. I smiled up at him from my position at his feet, finding his eyes as I carefully collected several blobs of his cum from my face and rubbing them across my tits.

“My souvenir,” I chuckled, as I re-fastened my dress back in place, trying not to show how aroused I was too.

I was supposed to be the professional in this situation.

His eyes twinkled at me, as if he appreciated the compliment. For a moment, I thought he was going to speak, but then the lights flickered for a second time. The breathtaking session was at an end.

He stood up and tucked his cock back into his pants, avoiding my eyes at first but then turning to look at me.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.

It was the first time he had spoken. His voice was deep and gruff, commanding and sexy, but it had a warm tone to it, too. I was eternally grateful that he’d asked. The question told me I was there as a person in my own right, not simply an object for his pleasure.

“Emma,” I told him, watching his eyes.

He nodded as he straightened his tie, as if he was committing my name to memory. It confirmed he would always remember this experience. But even so, his next words shocked me.

“I’d like to see you again, Emma.”


The annexe to the Oval Office was as impressive a room as I’d ever been in. Not that I had much chance to admire my surroundings as I was whisked through the grandeur as quickly as possible. All the eyes felt like they were on me. Maybe I was being paranoid but did they know why I was there?

My cover was that I was a journalist, invited there to conduct a short interview for whatever woman’s magazine I was supposed to be representing. So far, no-one had asked me any questions that might have exposed me, which was just as well. I was too excited about seeing the President again to remember that sort of detail.

It had been two months since I’d gone down on him at his birthday party and right now, my head was all over the place. I wasn’t even sure I could be relied upon to give a straight answer if anyone had bothered to ask.

In keeping with my cover, I was wearing a professional looking business suit for today’s meeting. It was different to my usual attire and made me look kinda sexy in more of a classy way, I thought. That made me idly wonder if the man of my dreams would like to see me in some sort of uniform. I had a fabulous bunny girl costume I’d worn to a Heffner party that had proven very popular on the night.

The pretence of being a journalist made the excitement all the greater. Had any other lucratively-paid, high-class hooker been secreted into the White House, with the sole purpose of giving the President another blow job? I doubted it.

That made me feel special. Very special.

In truth, I hadn’t expected to see him again. Yes, I know he’d told me that he’d like to see me again— I could still hear the words echoing in my head as if he had said them to me but moments ago. But I hadn’t expected him to go through with it. I’d thought that in the cold light of day, he’d realise he was risking too much.

If our intimate dalliance was ever discovered, it would most likely cost him his marriage as well as the Presidency. His place in the history books would be assured, but for all the wrong reasons.

Yet here I was…

I’d spent a couple of hours at the hairdressers yesterday—it was normal practice before I saw a client—but I was so giddy at the prospect of seeing him again that I’d even half-seriously thought of having red, white and blue highlights, just for him. That might have been a little too much, I eventually decided. Journalists didn’t do that and anyway, I didn’t want him thinking I was some over-crazed stalker type.

But I did have a surprise. Underneath my suit jacket—I’d kept it tightly fastened since I’d entered the White House—I was naked under the sheer white blouse I was wearing. My chocolate nipples were already hard at the thought of his reaction to seeing my tits again.

In my masturbatory fantasies, I’d imagined that he had literally ripped the blouse from my body, buttons flying everywhere, then pushed me down on his desk and fucked me until I cried out for mercy. Okay, fantasies and reality were two different things, but I’d already enjoyed a couple of intense orgasms from that fantasy alone.

I’d had to wait for twenty minutes before the door to the Oval Office opened—long enough for my already on-edge nerves to jangle further. Two important looking men exited, neither of them giving me anything more than a cursory glance.

When the President followed them, I was unable to suppress the tingle that passed down my spine. I was going to suck his cock again! Here! In the White House! The lewd excitement was almost too much to bear.

He looked different in daylight. More relaxed, yes, but more powerful, too. And cute. Oh yes. He looked very cute.

“Ah, Emma,” he coolly said, as if we were close friends.

Another tingle hit me, but this time it wasn’t in my spine. He’d called me by my name. How romantic!

I clumsily rose to my feet and shook the hand he offered me. It was all I could do to let it go. The undercurrent of sexuality was intensifying, just from that simple physical contact.

“What time is General Ashworth due?” he asked, turning towards his secretary.

He nodded thoughtfully when she told him and then faced me again.

“It seems we have around three quarters of an hour,” he calmly said. “I do hope that’s long enough…”


I pinched myself as I followed him into the Oval Office, just in case it would wake me up. This couldn’t be really happening, could it? I’d promised myself to remain super-cool; this was my profession after all. But my knees were shaking and my heart was threatening to burst from my chest. Nor was my condition helped as he immediately paced across to the large window and looked out into the gardens.

It told me that he was as apprehensive as I was.

I hoped it was a positive nervousness, rather than there being any doubt in his mind. It had been simpler in the White House cinema. It had been semi-dark and we could hardly see one another. I’d been in control then and all I’d had to do was walk in and give him a blow job.

Here, it was like meeting him face-to-face for the first time. This was the Oval Office, the sun was streaming in through the windows, and there was no escaping the reality of the moment.

He hadn’t met my eyes since we’d entered the room and he still kept them averted as he returned from the window and settled in his large, leather chair.

“I’m nervous, too,” I said, trying to reassure him but more for something to say. I couldn’t stand the silence between us.

I think I would have screamed in frustration if he decided to call it off at this stage. I decided there and then that I wasn’t going to let him. I wanted his cock again. And I was going to have it…

My admission brought a smile to his face. Suddenly the tension in the air was lifted.

I was just about to remove my jacket, let him see the goods on offer, when he nodded to the seat on the other side of his desk. Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t that. But then he explained.

“My secretary will bring some refreshments in momentarily. It’s standard procedure.”

I gave an inward sigh of relief. It felt like he’d read my mind, and I suppose the confusion must have been obvious on my face.

“I know it’s been a while,” he continued, steepling his fingers in that way of his. “I’m sorry, but sometimes the affairs of State get in the way of other more personal considerations.”

We both laughed, but my heart was beating even faster than before. This was surreal. The President of the United States was actually apologising for not seeing me again sooner?

When he added, “How have you been,” I almost melted.

The question made me feel all warm inside, like a girl falling in love with her first boyfriend. He hadn’t needed to ask that, and he actually seemed genuinely interested in my wellbeing.

“Good,” I told him, pausing for a moment before I continued. “I’ve thought about you a lot.”

He seemed surprised and I was astonished to see a light blush colour his face. I’d made the President blush?

“Thank you,” he said. He sounded sincere. “What we did…”

He hesitated, finally keeping his eyes firmly on mine as he spoke.

“I’ve never done that before. Or since. I’ve always been a faithful husband.”

His words rocked me. Tears formed on the edge of my eyelids and I forced them back. If he was telling the truth, it was the most wonderful compliment he could ever have paid me.

I stared into his eyes, trying to read his soul. Yes, he was being truthful. You could always tell whether some men were lying to you, even when they stared into your eyes. Bastards. In my profession, I’d learned that the richer, the more influential the man, the more devious he was.

But not this man. I was sure of that.

“Thank you,” I found myself saying.

We both laughed again at the stupidity of my remark. But I meant it. His birthday dalliance had been special to both of us, even though neither of us had expected it to be this way.

Then he was softly shaking his head.

“No, thank you, Emma,” he chuckled.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just gazed warmly into one another’s eyes. Like two lovers, I told myself, but then realised that had always been a problem of mine. I’d always worn my heart on my sleeve, let myself get carried away like a giddy schoolgirl.

The sharp knock on the door made me jump and the sight of his secretary, carrying a tray, effectively ended the tender moment. For the sake of my professionalism, it was probably for the best.

“Coffee, orange juice, water?” she asked me.

“Just leave it, Maggie,” the President told her, with a warm smile. “I’ll do the honours.”

She looked surprised for a split second, and then shot me a friendly girl-to-girl look as if to tell me I was honoured.

“We won’t be disturbed again,” he told me, as soon as she’d left the room. “And I don’t think we have long.”

A surge of electricity ran through my already overheated body. He was tacitly giving me approval to proceed, even reminding me there were time constraints. I wasn’t going to be found wanting.

Slipping off my jacket, I placed it on the chair beside me. Gratifyingly, his gaze instantly found my tits through the sheer white material of my blouse. It had been bought with this moment in mind. My chocolate-coloured nipples were so hard they were almost aching, and his staring eyes stayed on them as I headed around to his side of the desk.

I took my time, unbuttoning my blouse on the way, wanting him to savour the moment.

How many people had been in this room in recent times, I wondered. Heads of State! Royalty! World renowned figures! And a high class hooker who was about to suck the President’s cock…

Eat your heart out, Miss Lewinsky.


“I hope you approve, Mr. President,” I huskily whispered as I eventually reached him.

I positioned myself between his thighs, pushing them apart with the outside of my knees as I pulled the ends of my blouse apart. His eyes were all over my tits as I released them. When I leant forward, offering my right breast to his mouth, he obediently took my erect nipple between his thick lips as I reached for the belt of his trousers.

“Like that,” I approved, as he began to suckle my hard bud. “Oh God, yes, like that.”

I’d switched nipples on him by the time I was able to drag free his cock. He was already fully erect. For me. I stared downwards, transfixed at the beautiful sight. It was everything I’d ever wanted. For a moment or two, I just stroked up and down the pulsating black shaft, savouring the way it throbbed and jerked with each caress.

Eventually, it was all too much. Such was the need overpowering me, I was almost salivating. God did I ever want this.

“Let me…” I eventually told him, easing my tits away from his mouth and sinking to my knees.

I’d been thinking about this for two months now and had no intention of allowing a single minute to go to waste. I took his hands and placed them on my tits at the same time as taking his thickness between my lips. As soon as I had him there, I forgot all about every technique I’d ever learnt and began to mouth-fuck him as if there was no tomorrow.

With the occasional exception, I enjoyed my work, there was no getting away from that. But this wasn’t a normal call. This was the President’s rigid cock. And the feeling of it sliding in and out of my mouth, glistening wet with my saliva, was almost too much to bear. Electricity surged through my body. Damn, I was close to cumming just from the excitement of the moment.

“Steady,” he warned, wrapping my hair around his fingers. “Steady.”

I paused momentarily to look up into his eyes. Dammit, I’d been getting carried away. But then I was carried away…

“I love this,” I mumbled, closing my palm around the base of his manhood. “I love your cock, Mr. President.”

He didn’t answer. But then he didn’t need to. The look on his face said it all. When I lowered my head and took him back in my mouth, I made sure I kept my eyes on his, savouring every incendiary expression.

I sucked him more slowly, building up the pressure this time. It wasn’t easy. I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted this man at this moment. His hand was in my hair, grasping it tenderly as my head bobbed on his thick shaft. Then he said the two words that sent me completely over the edge.

“Oh, Emma…”

I came instantaneously.

He hadn’t even needed to touch me.

Even as I felt the orgasmic tremors pass through me, I took him as far into my throat as I could. It felt so slutty yet so hot to climax like this, as if I was giving part of myself to him.

I could see from the surprised expression on his face that he’d realised what had just happened. The effect was instantaneous. His hand tightened in my dark locks and he held my head rigid as he thrust upwards. I responded instantly, sucking his cock like a madwoman as he pumped upwards. There was no finesse, just the lewd need of two animals in heat. And my God, it felt good.

I gagged as the intensity of one of his upward thrusts caught me off guard. Coughing, I slid my mouth off his cock so that I could catch my breath but continued to hold it with my greedy fingers.

A string of saliva dangled between my lips and the tip of his hardness. I sucked it back into my mouth as we stared wantonly at one another. The arousal in his eyes lit a fire inside me and I ran my tongue down one side of his hardness and then back up the other.

I was out of control. I knew that. It didn’t happen very often but when it did I just let myself go. Suddenly, this wasn’t enough. The climax had made sure of that.. Nothing was enough. Except…

Reaching underneath my dress, I tugged my thong down my thighs and slowly raised myself to my feet. Even I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

I could see the inner conflict written all over the President’s face as he stared at me. The enormity of what I had in mind was clear to both of us and yet in my current state, it was practically impossible to stop myself. I fully straddled his lap before he could push me away. Taking his face in both my hands, I held his gaze as I began to slowly rub my labia against his black cock.

I don’t think I’d ever been this aroused in the whole of my life.

“No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I can’t.”

Of course he couldn’t. He was the President of the United States. He was married. And I was here for a blow job, nothing more. Yet the fire inside me was driving me on. My body was practically palpitating with need and I wasn’t going to be denied. Not unless he bodily picked me up and dumped me down onto the plush carpet.

“Shhh,” I whispered, stilling the objection by placing a finger on his wonderfully thick lips.

I tilted my forehead against his as I continued to slide my overheating cunt up and down against his Presidential manhood. He was trying to fight it, I knew, but I almost had him. He needed this as much as I did.

He wanted me…

“Suck on it,” I told him, pushing my finger into his mouth. “That’s it, Mr. President, like that. Suck on it.”

I pulled his hands to my tits again. The sexual connection between us was electric. All at once he was squeezing my tits and sucking on my index finger. I almost came again there and then. This was the most important man in the world. And I was about to fuck him.

When I pulled my head back so that I could look into his eyes again, I so wanted to kiss him. But that would have been unthinkable. Instead, I dropped my lips to his neck and began to lap my tongue along his skin.

“You need this,” I found myself whispering, as my mouth found his ear. “So do I.”

My gaze found his again. I wanted to see the expression on his face when he entered me. This was so wrong. So fucking wrong, and yet so fucking right, too. My lips parted, my pupils shifted focus from one of his eyes to the other, searching his face. Searching, searching…

Then I adjusted my body so that his cock was all of a sudden against my opening. I met his upwards push with a downward thrust of my own.

“Yesss…” I hissed, my eyes fluttering as I felt his Presidential cock ease inside my wet pussy.

Oh My God. Yesss…

Our gazes locked on one another. He redirected his hands from my tits to my hips as he pushed up into me. I had him now. He was into this. He was mine. Curling my hands behind his neck, I leant backwards for better penetration. I had no idea how much more time we had left but I don’t think either of us would have been able to stop even if his entire security team had rushed into the room.

“Let me do the work,” I whispered in his ear. “This is me fucking you, not the other way around.”

He understood the significance instantly. If he was ever asked whether he had fucked ‘that woman’, then the answer was, ‘no’.

It was me who had fucked him.

I moved slowly on him, so slowly that he was barely sliding in and out of me. All the while we stared into one another’s eyes. I smiled. So did he. At that precise moment I fell in love. When I began to up the pace, he moved with me. It was sublime.

I moved faster, alternating between tight little circles and heavy downward pumps. He met each move with a thrust of his own. Oh fuck. We were both fully into the fuck and the friction was unbelievable.

It didn’t take long. For either of us. I was gritting my teeth now and his eyes were squeezed closed as he tried to stave off the inevitable. He had no chance. I wanted his Presidential cum and nothing was going to stop me.

I began to pound down on him with quick, deep strokes. I fucked him for no more than another thirty seconds when I felt his balls begin to tighten. I knew I should drag myself away, sink to my knees, and let him cum on my face, my body, between my lips. Instead, I tightened my internal muscles around his throbbing manhood. It was enough.

“Cum for me,” I whispered into his ear, pinching his earlobe between my teeth. “Cum for me, Mr. President…”

I wrapped my hands more firmly around his shoulders and held my new lover against me as he fired two quick streams into my clutching pussy.

“Yes, baby, yesss…”

As his bursts continued, I stroked the back of his scalp and held him even closer. His body jerked with each new expulsion and in that moment I had never felt so at one with anyone in my life.

Eventually, when he was fully spent and we were both able to catch our breaths, I think the enormity of what had just happened hit us both. When he stared into my eyes, I knew the fairy tale was over.

He lifted me off him, helping me to lean against his desk, then rose to his feet and tucked himself back into his pants. When he spoke, his cold words sent a chill of disappointment through me.

“You’d better leave now.”


It was eight in the evening when I made my way along East 57th Street towards the Four Seasons Hotel. My small shudder coincided with the chimes of a clock nearby striking eight. It wasn’t the New York wind that made me quiver. Or the late Autumn cold.

It was the fact I was about to see the President again.

Except this time, the request had been mine.

I hadn’t known if he would agree to the meeting. After all, three long months had passed since he’d fucked me in the Oval Office. Or more accurately, since I’d fucked him. The lack of subsequent contact had told me it had been a step too far. He was too embarrassed, annoyed, maybe even too frightened to see me again. Who could blame him?

I’d been able to contact him under the same pretext as the last time. I was a reporter for a woman’s magazine, who wanted to follow up on the interview I’d conducted in the Oval Office. I’d spoken to the same secretary I’d met during my visit to the White House—Maggie—who had conveyed my request for a follow-up meeting to the President.

He had eventually agreed, reluctantly it appeared, and Maggie had been at pains to explain that the meeting would have to be while he was touring the country rather than back in the White House. His schedule, apparently, wouldn’t allow anything else.

That was fine with me, at least I thought it was. As one of the country’s high-class hookers, I was used to luxury hotels. Yet this time it was different, and not only because of the Presidential security that inhabited the place. It was different because I had asked to meet him. I knew he must be nervous, and only hoped he understood I didn’t wish him any harm. I’d never do anything to harm him.

But after all that had happened between us … well, it was only natural that he could be feeling vulnerable…

“Good evening,” I murmured, as one of the security guards intercepted me as soon as I set foot inside the plush lobby.

“Good evening, Miss…” he replied curtly.

running his experienced eye across my body.

Unlike most men, it wasn’t a look of admiration. This man, along with his colleagues scattered inside and around the hotel, was trained to look for the slightest thing that was out of place. I might be one of the hottest women he was ever likely to meet, but that changed nothing in his eyes.

“You’re a resident at the hotel?”

I shook my head.

“I’m expected,” I simply said.

When he gave me a quizzical look, I supplied him with the exact details Maggie had given me during our telephone call—my name, the name of the magazine I was representing, and a request for him to phone the President’s secretary to verify that I was here for a meeting.

I watched him make his way back to the reception desk to make the phone call, and let my mind flicker over the catalogue of events that had led me here.

It had started with my relocation to America from England, and the subsequent journey that had seen me progress from model to escort to hooker. It had been a strange career path admittedly, but one I had fallen into knowingly and, until recently, one that I loved. Who could have guessed that I’d reach the very top of my profession so quickly?

Then there was the blow job I’d given the President on his birthday, followed two months later by—in my opinion, at least—the fuck of the century in the Oval Office.

And look where that had got me…

My initial meeting with the President had been intended as a one-off brief cameo at his birthday party. I’d been his gift for the night, his present, an ‘object’ there with a specific purpose. Yet there had definitely been some sort of connection on the night, otherwise why would he have asked to see me again.

It was difficult to believe that all this was really happening…

A deep voice in my ear made me jump. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t realised that my polite interrogator had returned to my side.

“You’re expected, Miss. Please come with me.”


The elevator reached the top floor in seconds and opened into a small reception area as plush as the lobby I’d just left.

“You made it…” Maggie greeted me.

She’d been waiting for the elevator doors to open and this time she had a warm smile on her face. Our two conversations on the telephone had mellowed her.

“The security can be overpowering,” she added, sharing a sympathetic look, “but it goes with the territory around here.”

I wondered if she had any clue why I was there—female intuition was a powerful instinct, after all—but I instantly dismissed the thought. The President’s reputation as an upright family man was unimpeachable. And strangely enough, despite our two illicit encounters, I had already recognised those qualities in him.

I had no doubt that he was a decent man and that knowledge only served to make me feel more special.

“He’s waiting for you but doesn’t have long,” Maggie continued, pulling a contrite face. “Sorry, I did my best, but he has a long budget meeting after you leave.”

She pressed a button under the desk and a door to our left unlocked with a soft click.

“There’re as boring as hell so I’m relying on you to give him some light relief before he has to face the accountants,” she added, lightly resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Please go in and up the stairs.”

Light relief? The phrase made me smile. Maybe Maggie did know something after all?

Yet I had no idea what was about to happen over the next half an hour.

He had agreed to meet me but I didn’t even know if he even wanted to see me again. Would his attitude have changed towards me? Then there was the point at issue. Was I going to tell him? Could I tell him?

The clicking of my heels registered every step as I made my way up the circular stairway. My heart thumping through my chest with every step. I’d never been so nervous in my life.


The President was seated on a sofa at the far end of the room. His eyes found mine and I was grateful for the smile that briefly touched his lips as I entered.

“Hello Emma.”

There was an edge to his voice that I couldn’t quite place. And his expression was equally as difficult to read. He closed the file of papers on his knee and then began to tidy the documents scattered across the sofa as I dragged myself across the room towards him.

“I’m sure Maggie will have explained,” he said, telling me that time was short without overtly saying the words. “It’s that time of year and we have some budgets to agree.”

“I understand,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady.

I’d removed my coat on the journey up the stairs and his eyes briefly flickered across my figure before returning to my face. The surreptitious glance made me feel better. He had tried to control his gaze, I could see that, but he couldn’t help himself from staring a little.

I’d chosen the green Sue Wong dress especially for him. The material clung to my curves and brought my tits into prominence. He liked my tits. No, he loved my tits. The President of the United States loved my tits. The realisation made shiver excitedly.

“I appreciate you agreeing to see me,” I continued, standing there in front of him, waiting to be told to take a seat. “After last time … well, I realise it went too far … but I didn’t want it to end like that. I wanted to see you one final time.”

There, I’d said it. The words I’d rehearsed over and over again in my head. I’d actually been able to get them out. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest.

A look passed over his face. Pain? Regret? Confusion? Uncertainty?

“I’m not complaining,” he slowly began, shooting me a tight-lipped smile at his attempted quip. “But yes, it did go too far. Everything went too far. I’ve been stupid, Emma, though that’s nothing to do with you. In other circumstances, I’d be very happy to get to know you. But—”

He tailed off, unsure how to proceed. He didn’t need to. I’d pretty much expected to hear what he’d told me, except for the compliment, that was. I’d come to learn that this man never said anything he didn’t mean and his unexpected words meant everything to me.

Especially in the circumstances…

I felt the tears building along my mascara-lined lashes. Perhaps if I wasn’t in the condition I was, this conversation wouldn’t have been quite so difficult. It was my fault entirely, of course, but then I’d let myself get completely carried away.

“That’s okay,” I told him, sniffing a little to hold back the tears.

I hadn’t expected the moment to be so emotional and I was struggling to cope. This wasn’t very professional of me but I had more to say.

“We won’t see one another again after tonight,” I continued, taking a deep breath to help me finish the sentence, but still carefully observing his reaction. “But I needed to see you in person to explain that our secret is safe with me, and it always will be. You have nothing to fear from me, now or in the future. You have my word on that.”

For a moment or two, he just stared up at me. It looked as if my words had taken him by surprise. Maybe they had. It was clear to me that the implications of our liaisons had been on his mind. They had to have been. His entire career and marriage were on the line if news leaked out. In his place, I would have worried about exactly the same thing.

Then he nodded solemnly and picked up his drink from the glass table in front of him. With another glance towards me, he threw back the remaining contents in one go. His face creased slightly as the bourbon burned his throat.

“Thank you,” he simply said.

July 2018
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