After a long day of schmoozing at my local political fundraiser, I dragged myself into the nearest Starbucks for a much needed break. I'd been invited to the event by the mayor's wife, and knowing that an election was just around the corner, I was eager to plant some seeds for potential work designing the team's campaign material. A commission helping to design their website and political banners would be a major feather in my cap and be a major stepping stone for networking with other bigwigs in the party apparatus. But after three straight hours of genuflecting and kissing ass, I needed some downtime to rest my brain and reclaim my soul.
After grabbing my almond-milk Americano at the pick-up counter, I ambled over to the one remaining seat in the corner of the shop, where an attractive woman sat alone nursing a warm beverage. It seemed odd to me that she was wearing a headscarf and sunglasses indoors, and although it was obvious that she wanted to be alone, I desperately needed to get off my feet.
"Do you mind if I take this last open chair?" I said, motioning to the chair directly opposite her.
"No, of course," she said distractedly, lost in thought.
"I'm sorry to intrude," I said, kicking off my shoes under the table. "But I've been standing all day and my feet are killing me."
"I know the feeling," the woman said, smiling half-heartedly.
Her face looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to place her under her heavy camouflage. She looked to be about my age, maybe just a few years older, with wavy brown hair and perfectly coiffed, arching eyebrows. With her soft flushed cheeks and clear lip gloss coating her full sensuous lips, she could have easily passed for a matinee idol.
But it was her unusual outfit that attracted my attention the most. Wearing an off-the-shoulder, tight-fitting black chiffon dress with flared sleeves and sparkling diamond hoop earrings dangling from her ears, she definitely didn't look the part of the average Starbucks customer.
"You look like you could use a little respite from the elements too," I said. "What brings you into our community coffee shop on this cold wintry day?"
"Just needed a break from all the hubbub, I guess. A few too many boring meetings."
"Meetings?" I said, glancing down at her curvy figure outlined by her clingy dress. "If you don't mind my saying, you don't look dressed for a typical business meeting. I gotta say, you're rocking that dress."
"Thanks. They're not your typical business meetings. There's a lot of high-powered people. I guess I'm expected to look the part."
I caught her glancing in the direction of an adjacent table where two stiff young men dressed in gray business suits wearing earpieces watched her intently. I jerked suddenly when I began to put the pieces together. High powered business meetings. An important political convention in town. A classy woman dressed to the nines accompanied by a security detail. I had the crazy fortune to be sitting next to the President's wife!
"Oh my God!" I gasped. "You're the–"
"Shh!" she whispered, lowering her head and turning her body toward the corner of the room. "It's hard enough trying to maintain a low profile with these goons following me everywhere I go. Can we try to keep this little secret between the two of us?"
"Of course," I said, pushing back in my seat in shock. "I didn't mean to... It's just–"
"No worries," the First Lady said. "No need to get overly excited. I'm just another commoner in our humble little republic."
"I'd hardly call you that," I chuckled. "Even without all the trappings of political office, you're a long way from common."
"Thank you," she said, blushing slightly.
"Are you here for the Democratic fundraiser?" I asked. "I didn't see you at the convention center today."
"I try to leave all that political glad-handing to the big boys," she said. "I put in an appearance every now and then to demonstrate that all is happy and well with the first family and so the president can show off his eye candy, but otherwise I try to stay out of the affairs of the state as much as I can."
I peered at the First Lady through squinted eyes and nodded. It must have been tiring following her husband all around the country to various official functions, having to put on her game-face all the time. But there was something in her slack jaw and sad eyes that suggested there was a little more at work than just the harried life of a high-ranking political wife.
"I can appreciate that," I nodded. "Having spent enough time around all these politicos myself, I understand how exhausting it can be."
"What's your connection to the fundraiser, if I can ask?"
"I'm a freelance graphic designer. It's mostly a bunch of networking. There's a lot of money flung around these political campaigns. Just trying to get my small piece of the pie, I guess."
"These things tend to be pretty closed-door affairs," she said. "Do you mind my asking how you scored an invitation?"
"I know the mayor's wife in a roundabout way," I said, reflecting back on our little dalliance in the wine cellar of billionaire Steve Bannon's estate at last year's Halloween costume party.
"Haley's a doll," the First Lady nodded. "How do you know her exactly?"
"We're just casual friends," I fibbed. "I think she was just throwing me a bone as a favor, to be honest."
“Mm–hmm," she nodded, pinching her eyebrows together suspiciously. "What kind of design work do you do? Maybe I can throw you little bone, too."
"Oh, ah–" I stammered, momentarily taken aback by her generous offer. "Mostly website design, banners, logos, that sort of thing. It's kind of boring actually..."
"Are you kidding me?" the First Lady said. "Online fundraising has long since eclipsed the traditional form of fundraising by a large margin. I wouldn't sell yourself short. My husband needs to take advantage of every little edge he can find. Do you have any samples you can show me of your work?"
"Sure," I said, tapping my phone to pull up my photo portfolio and turning it around for the First Lady to see. "These are some of the corporate commissions I've worked on. There's no government applications to speak of, but some of my logo and signage work could be easily adapted for political purposes."
The First Lady took my phone out of my hand and began swiping her finger across the screen, nodding her head as she scrolled through my portfolio.
"These are actually pretty good," she said, pursing her lips in appreciation. "I think my husband's tired old campaign team could use some fresh ideas like these. Do you have a card I can pass along to our national campaign manager?"
"Wow, um–thank you," I stammered. "That's very generous of you."
"From the looks of some of these other pictures in your library, it appears that you know Haley a little more than just casually. Are these photos from Steve Bannon's infamous annual Halloween Ball?"
"Yes," I said, wrinkling my forehead at the thought of her viewing my personal pictures. "I got an invitation through a friend of a friend–"
Suddenly the First Lady's eyes flung open as she continued swiping through my photo library.
"Is this you wearing that provocative cowboy costume? You were really letting it all hang out at the costume party!"
I reached out and retrieved my phone, blushing a deep shade of crimson when I saw that she'd seen me dressed up in full regalia with my faux cock and balls dangling between my open leather chaps in the Lone Ranger costume.
“Bannon’s invitation encouraged the guests to be creative and wear as little or as much as we desired. I guess I wanted to make a statement around all those self-absorbed high-rollers and show them that men aren't the only ones who can swing a big dick around."
"Humphh!" the First Lady coughed into her coffee, spilling some of it onto the table as she held out her hand to her security team to signal that she was okay.
"I like your style, young lady," she said, wiping up the table with a small serviette. "I think you're exactly the kind of free-thinking woman my husband needs on his starchy old campaign team. What's your name?"
"Jade," I said handing her my business card. "Jade Jackson. I'm not exactly sure how I should address you. Shall I address you as Madame First Lady?"
"God, no. Technically, I'm a private citizen, just like you. The job of First Lady refers a role, not a public office. So there's no need for such silly honorifics. You can call me Liz."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame–I mean, Liz," I said, holding out my hand.
"The pleasure's all mine," Liz said, clasping my hand warmly.
We held onto each other's hand for a long moment, and I felt a buzz of electricity course through me while I watched her pupils dilating in excitement as another part of my body throbbed in arousal.
"How would you like to attend a different kind of fundraiser, at the White House next week?" she asked.
"Who–me?" I said incredulously. "You're inviting me to the White House?"
"Yes," she said. "The President's hosting his annual Correspondent's Dinner next Saturday and I could introduce you to a few people in his inner circle who might be interested in your services. Of course, you'll have to dress a little more conservatively than you did at Mr. Bannon's party. A ball gown might be more appropriate in this case."
"I think I could manage that," I said, clearing my throat. "But how do I get in? I'm sure there's exceptional security..."
"I'll send you an invitation with a special entry code. Just show your credentials at the guard shack. I'll leave your name for them to usher you in. Do you think you'll be able to make it?"
"I'm think I might be able to clear my schedule," I joked. "Thank you for your kind invitation."
"You can bring a partner with you if you'd like. I'll likely be pretty distracted with official duties at the affair, so I don't know how much attention I'll be able to give you. Just enjoy yourself and try not to ruffle any feathers. If you present yourself well enough, I'm sure we can connect you with the right people to further your career."
"Thank you. I look forward to seeing you again."
"That makes two of us," the First Lady said, motioning for her security team as she stood up to leave. "I'm looking forward to having you join the team. See you next Saturday."
As the First Lady gathered her belongings and swooped out the front door of the coffee shop with her security detail in tow, I sat back down on my chair with wobbly legs. I could scarcely believe what had just happened. Not only had I met one of the most intriguing and powerful women in America, she'd invited me into the White House to meet the President and his inner circle. But there was something more than that. I sensed we'd developed a powerful bond in the short time we'd been together, and I sensed she felt it too. I slumped back in my chair breathing a huge sigh, wondering what was in store with this sexy, beautiful woman...
