For the Love of Gina: The President's Girlfriend (7 page)

Gina
leaned her head back and squeezed his hair as he sucked her, enjoying every
second of his attention, and then he lifted her into his arms and started
kissing her on the mouth again.
 
For more
than a few minutes they stood there, kissing passionately, as the sound of the
movie downstairs gave way to the silence of their room upstairs.
 
Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and
her vagina was pressed against his rock-hard stomach, and the longer he kissed
her, the more desperate for more she became.
 

Dutch
was getting desperate too, as her firm ass sat on his stiff, fully extended
penis, causing it to throb in waves of sensation.
 
But he couldn’t stop kissing her.
 
Not yet.
 
He tongued her long and hard, and their tongues intertwined into a
smacking, circling, pressing kind of kiss that made Gina almost want to cum.

But
when Dutch laid her on the bed, opened her legs, and began licking her and
kissing her between those legs, those feeling escalated and caused her to arch
her back and lift her ass.
 
But her
lifting gave him even better access.
 
He
placed his hands beneath her ass and slipped his tongue deep into her
vagina.
 
He began licking her with the
longest, deepest licks Gina ever felt.
 
Her small hands were squeezing the bedspread, causing it to loosen its
grip on the mattress, as he kept going deeper and deeper down on her.
 

“Dutch,
that’s enough,” she was saying, as her naked, brown body swayed from side to
side.
 
“I can’t take any more!”

But
he knew her.
 
She could take it.
 
Her protestations, in fact, only increased
his desire to eat more of her wet, juicy pussy, taking her in full gulps into
his mouth, as he went down even harder on her still.
 

Gina
thought she was going to die from the intensity alone, but when Dutch finally
eased up and looked up at her, to make sure he was reading her right, she
guided his head back between her legs.

“Don’t
stop,” she said.
 
“Don’t you dare
stop!”
 
She couldn’t bear it, she
couldn’t take it anymore, but she would kill him if he stopped!

He
gladly kept going.
 
He put his face back
between her legs and his tongue back between her folds.
 
And he went down on her deeper still.
 
She arched and screamed with joy as every
inch of her vagina pulsated with the sensations of his tongue.
 

Until
she started to cum.
 
She couldn’t hold
out a moment longer.
 
And Dutch,
realizing that her organism was beginning, hurried up to her, put his dick deep
inside of her, and stoked her cumming.

Gina
couldn’t stop pulsating as he kept thrusting into her.
  
With every thrust was a new round of
pulsations, with every stroke of his dick brought a new round of throbs, until
she finally, ultimately, ebbed out.

But
Dutch was just beginning.
 
He was lying
on top of her now, holding her, still thrusting into her.
 
His hands were on the side of her gorgeous
face as he stroked her, and he started kissing her again.

“You’re
going to give me some?” he asked her between kisses, his voice almost hoarse
with breathlessness.

She
knew what he meant.
 
“Yes,” she said.

“Need
more salve?” he asked her.

“No,”
she said. “It’s enough.”

And
then he lifted up, and she turned onto her stomach, and he put it in, slowly,
gently, until it was all in.

Gina
felt the pain, it never got painless even after all these years, but the more
he fucked her, the less pain she felt.
 
By the time he was in his full rhythm, the pain was so low-level that
she was able to dismiss it.
 
She was able
to go with it and pulsate with sensual excitement again from the mere thought
of her husband doing her this way.

Dutch
laid down on top of her, her ass pushed up and fully covered by his big body,
as he fucked her long and hard.
 
It was
something about Gina’s ass that made him crazy with desire sometimes.
 
And he had to have her like this.
 
He had to have her in the worse way.

He
kept pumping her, and fucking her, and holding her so tightly that Gina felt as
if he was going to squeeze the life out of her.
 
He never did her long this way.
 
He knew it wasn’t an easy way for her.
 
But he did it longer than usual this time.
 
Not because he wanted to, but because the
feel of her tight ass pressing against him, and the tightness inside of her,
made him feel so relaxed and so on the marvelous verge of cum that he couldn’t
cum right away.
 
He couldn’t release that
wonderful feeling.
 

Until
that verge of cum became so intense that he couldn’t help but let it out.
 

He
came.
 
Hard and swift like a breaking
tide, as he poured into his wife.
 
It was
so intense that Gina felt it in her pussy too, and began to have another
orgasm.
 
She was screaming with delight
as he kept thrashing into her, and filling her so full that it began to stream
out of her, down her ass, down her thighs.
 

And he
kept fucking her.
 
He couldn’t stop
thrashing her.
 
He laid on top of her,
and she took the brunt of his weight and his sex, as he pumped her as if he was
pumping iron.
 
The sound of him smacking
her ass roared throughout the room, and they both enjoyed the intenseness of
the ride.
 
Until her orgasm eased and he
made his final push in.
 
Then he waited,
they waited, for the marvelous throbbing and sensations to end.

When
it was finally over, he kissed her and then began the very slow, very gentle
process of pulling out of her.
 
He was in
so deep, and had become so enlarged, that it actually was just as painful to
her as when he first entered her.
 
He
eased and eased out of her until his big, still-rock hard rod was completely
out and dripping with cum.

Gina
turned her face sideways and smiled.
 
Dutch kissed her again.
 
“I love
you,” he said.

“After
that, you’d better,” she replied.

Dutch
smiled and got off of her, smacking her now overworked ass as he did, and then
pulled her into his arms.
 

After
they showered together, and Dutch cleaned her out thoroughly, he fell asleep in
bed. Gina, however, got out of bed, put on her bathrobe, and went back
downstairs, to finish watching movies with Little Walt.

“Where’s
Daddy?” Walt asked as soon as she came back down.

“Sleep,”
she said, as Walt got off of the beanbag and climbed onto her lap.

“Why
is he sleep?
 
Daddy’s tired?”

Gina
glanced at the Nanny, whom, she could tell, wanted to smile.
 
Which caused Gina to smile herself.
 
After that round of lovemaking they’d just
completed, tired wasn’t the word for Dutch.
 
“Exhausted,” she said.

“But
the second movie’s already on,” Walt said.

“I
know baby, and Daddy would be down here if he could.
 
But he’s tired.”

And
Walt, whose attention span was no greater than any other child his age,
returned his attention to the movie.

CHAPTER SIX

Brandy
Clarke walked through the revolving doors of the mighty Harber Industries
feeling as if she was out of her depth, but she kept walking anyway and headed
for the reception desk.
 
The
receptionist, a pleasant woman on the verge of plumpness, greeted her as she
arrived.

“Welcome
to Harber Industries,” she said.
 
“How
may I assist you?”

Brandy
swallowed hard.
 
She wasn’t quite sure
how she would handle this, but she knew she had to be blunt.
 
“I’m here to see the president,” she said.

The
receptionist was immediately doubtful.
 
“The president?”

“Yes,
ma’am.
 
Former President Dutch Harber.”

“Do
you have an appointment with the president?”

Brandy
hesitated.
 
“No,” she said.
 
“But he’ll be wanting to see me.”

The
receptionist smiled.
 
This straggly
haired southern slip of a girl couldn’t possibly have an appointment with
President Harber.
 
“And why would he want
to see you, ma’am?” she asked her.

Brandy
braced herself.
 
“I’m his mistress,” she
said.
 
“He’ll be wanting to see me.”

The
smile immediately left the receptionist face, and she became suddenly
flustered.
 
She didn’t know what to
do.
 
This was a first for her.
 
She knew the woman could be some crackpot or
worse.
 
But she also, incredibly, could
be the real deal.
 
She glanced at the
security people in the lobby, but she wasn’t sure if she should share such
sensitive information with them.
 
She
therefore asked Brandy to have a seat, and telephoned her supervisor.

Christian
Bale sat at the head of the conference table in his office and went over the
week’s manifest with Dutch’s assistants.
 
As Dutch’s chief of staff, Christian was responsible for making sure all
of the other assistants worked closely, not only with each other, but also with
the senior management staff that supported the former president.
 
They arranged all of his meetings and
speaking engagements and appearances on television chat shows.
 
They coordinated his meetings and duties to
his own company.
 
Dutch’s time was valuable,
and Christian’s job was to make sure they were not wasting a moment of it with
poor planning and execution.

But
his intercom buzzed in the middle of his meeting.
 
He pressed it.
 
“Yes, Win, didn’t I tell you I was in a
meeting?”

“It’s
not Wendy, Chris,” the voice on the other end said.
 
“It’s Vera.”

Vera
supervised the support staff, the secretaries and receptionists.
 
Why would she be calling him?
 
“Yes, what is it?” he asked, confused.

“Am I
on speaker?” she asked.
 
“If I am, take
me off.”

Christian
hesitated, and then picked up the telephone.
 
“You’re off,” he said.

“There’s
a young woman here, a Miss Brandy Clarke, who claims to be . . .”

“She
claims to be what?”

“She
claims, quite frankly, to be the president’s girlfriend.”

Christian
frowned.
 
“What?”

“She
says she’s the president’s girlfriend, Chris.
 
She’s downstairs, at the reception desk, making this claim.”

“Where
are you?”

“Down
here with her.”

“Stay
down there,” Christian ordered.
 
“Don’t
have her talking to anyone else or explaining anything to you.
 
It’s probably nonsense, but just to be sure.”

“I
understand.”

“I’ll
get back with you.”

Christian
then hung up the phone, his face unable to shield his concern.
 
Then he looked at Jeff, his assistant.
 
“Review the rest of the agenda with the
staff,” he said.
 
“I’ll be back as soon
as I can.”

“Will
do, Chris,” Jeff said, and Christian left his office.

He
took the elevator to the top floor, to the Office of the President of Harber
Industries, who also happened to be the former President of the United States,
and his mind was going nuts.
 
On an
emotional level, he knew it couldn’t be true.
 
No way would Dutch do that to Gina.
 
But he also had to admit that a small part of him wasn’t a hundred
percent sure.
 

Christian
was like a son to Dutch.
 
He had once
been his son-in-law, after Christian’s short but tumultuous marriage to Jade,
but he had also been Dutch’s personal assistant when Dutch was a bachelor and
was first elected president.
 
It was his
job back then to coordinate, among many other things, Dutch’s various
women.
 
And there were plenty back
then.
 
It wasn’t an easy job.
 
Could this woman, Christian wondered, be one
of them?
 
There was always a private side
to Dutch, a side that suggested that there was more to him than meets the eye.
 
And Christian couldn’t say if it was a good
more, or a bad more.
 
But more than meets
the eye.
 
Could this woman be a part of
that side of Dutch?
 

The
elevator door opened to a top floor filled with rows and rows of desks.
 
These were Dutch’s senior staffers, people
who were just below Christian’s pay grade, but above the pay grade of the
executive assistants.
 
He walked up to
the desk of Dutch’s personal secretary, Jessica Tanning, and asked if he could
see him.

“You
cannot,” she responded.

Christian
waited for her to tell him why not, but she didn’t go there with him.
 
But that put Christian in a bad spot.
 
He didn’t know what to say to her.
 
He just stood there and ran his hand through
his blond hair.
 
He could just wait until
the president could see him.
 
He could
wait it out.
 
But what if that woman
downstairs became impatient, and started yelling it out?
 
Dutch would murder Christian if that were to
happen, especially if there was some truth to her accusation.
 
But then again, Dutch would murder Christian
if he disturbed him over what was probably a bunch of nonsense to begin
with.
 
He was in a tough spot.

“It’s
really important, Jess,” he decided to say.

“How
important?” Jessica asked.

Christian
wasn’t about to involve any more people than were already involved.
 
“Personal,” he said.

Jessica
studied him.
 
Christian was never one for
hyperbole and over-exaggerations.
 
She
decided she’d better at least contact the president.

Dutch
was sitting behind his desk when her call came through.
 
His desk was loaded with paperwork, and he
didn’t have a moment to spare before his next series of meetings, but he
answered her buzz.

“What?”
he asked, and by the sharpness of his tone Jessica and Christian both felt
concerned that this could backfire on them.

“Christian
is here to see you, sir,” Jessica said.
 
“He says it’s of a very personal matter.”

Christian
didn’t like the fact that Jess had added “very” when he had said no such thing,
but it was probably the only way to get him in that door.
 
And he needed to see the president.

Dutch
exhaled.
 
He assumed it was about
Jade.
 
She probably phoned Christian to
get him to change Dutch’s mind about her furlough.
 
“Send him through,” Dutch replied.

Christian
felt at least relieved that he would get the audience with the president he
needed.
 
So he walked inside, closed the
double-doors of the massive office, and made his way up to Dutch’s desk.

“I’m
so sorry to disturb you, sir.”

“What
is it?” Dutch continued to review the files on his desk as he removed one stack
and picked up another stack.

Christian
swallowed hard.
 
“A woman is downstairs
to see you, sir.”

“Uh-hun,”
Dutch said, still distracted, still thumbing through those files.

Again,
Christian exhaled.
 
“She says she’s your
mistress, sir.”

Dutch
smiled as he continued to thumb through files.
 
“Oh, yeah?
 
Who is she?
 
Julia Roberts?
 
Sandra Bullock?
 
Diana Ross?
 
Who?”

Christian
didn’t see how this was a laughing matter.
 
“Some woman named Brandy Clarke,” he said.
 

To
his amazement, the president stopped cold.
 
And looked up at Christian.
 
“Brandy Clarke?”

“Yes,
sir,” Christian said, surprised by his reaction.
 
“She said she was your---”

“I
know what she said,” Dutch said with a frown.
 
Then he looked away from Christian, as if he was in deep thought.
 

Christian
just stood there, stunned that it could be true.
 
And if it wasn’t, why was the president
looking so concerned?

Dutch
looked back up.
 
“Where is she?”

“Downstairs.
 
Vera Atkins phoned me.
 
She’s downstairs with her.”

“Go
get her.”

“Vera?”

“The
woman, Christian.
 
Miss Clarke.
 
Put her in your office and wait there with
her.”

“Yes,
sir.
 
I’ll take care of it right away,
sir.”

“And
Chris,” Dutch said, prompting Christian to turn back toward him.
 
“You remind Vera and anybody else with info
on this matter about their confidentiality agreements.”

It
was serious.
 
Christian knew it now.
 
“Yes, sir,” he said.
 
He waited for the president to remind him,
too, but he didn’t.
 
He knew he didn’t
have to.

When
Christian left, Dutch leaned back in his chair.
 
His face had the look of a man who was remembering a hellish time.
 
And anguish appeared on his face.
 

“
Dear Lord
,” he said, in a pained voice.

Jade
and her mother sat on the visitor’s patio at Hammersmith Gardens and sipped tea
from teacups.
 
Jade, however, still
seemed distant.
 
Sam knew why, as she
looked at her.
 

“Heard
from your father?” she asked her daughter.

“He
called.”

“What
did he say?”

“What
he always says.
 
Nothing.”

Sam
exhaled.
 
“He didn’t change his mind?”

“No.”

“You could
have come and stayed those two days with me, you know.
 
The court allows you two days per month to
stay away from this place.
 
They didn’t
revoke your furlough, you just refused to use it.”

“What
was the point?
 
I want to be with
Daddy.
 
I see you all the time.
 
But he wouldn’t change his mind.
 
And he never will.
 
Not while Gina’s around.”

Sam
sipped more tea.
 
“You know what the
answer is to that particular problem.”

“Of
course I know!
 
Gina needs to get out of
the picture, then my father can see the rest of us.”

Sam
nodded.
 
“You diagnosed it right.
 
I’m proud of you.
 
But I hope you realize how difficult a
proposition such a cure for your diagnosis will be.”

“I
know it’ll be difficult.”

“It
won’t be easy.”

“I
know it won’t.”

“You’ll
never be the same again, if we go down this road.”

“I
know that too.”
 
Then Jade looked at
her.
 
“What?
 
You have a plan?”