“James,” she whined. “Stop writing.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Baby.” He kept writing, “I’m almost finished. I’m having second thoughts about the bank.”

“I don’t caaaaaare,” she flopped onto her back. “Well, I care because we need the bank, but right now I’m a half-naked woman in your bed and momma’s got needs.”

“Well you know before I would’ve disagreed about the bank but,” he paused and looked over at her, “Wow.”

“Yes wow, do you know how many men I could’ve been with tonight?”

His lip twitched wryly, “Tell me.”

“Well at least one.”

“Not counting Aaron Burr.”

“Ok none, but someday I’m going to give into him; he’s oddly persuasive.”

“He killed a man,” he furrowed his brow. “I just. Being president is just proving to me that the theories about running a country are nothing like the practice. You know how hard it is to get around this goddamn Constitution?”

“You wrote it.”

“Well I’m very good.”

She got up now, still mostly sans clothes and came up behind him, “So am I.”

He closed his eyes, telling himself that he’d come back to the bank, that maybe taking a couple minutes to destress with this woman was exactly what he needed. She massaged his shoulders, feeling the tension melt away under her touch. She nipped at his ear, just a bit, just teasing him while she pulled his thoughts away from the bank, from the Constitution, from the problem of fighting a war while not stepping on the rights of his citizens.

“You’re still thinking too much, James,” she led him to the bed, slowly, hoping the sight of her naked would be enough to shut off his brain for a bit. He was pulling off his breeches as he followed her, his thoughts of the government replaced by ones of lust. She appreciated his nakedness, noting wonderfully that while he was short in stature that curse did not extend below the waist. She knelt and took him into her mouth. He cried out, surprised, but acquiesced immediately. He’d been aroused already, of course, but he swelled now, filling her warm mouth. Her tongue moved the impressive length of his shaft while she swallowed him.

“This is, holy shit,” he whispered, his hands tangling in her hair. She redoubled her efforts, as he thrust into her again and again. Her eyes watered and she gagged audibly, but she made no signs of slowing. When she looked up at him, met his eyes, it drove him crazy, and he wished there were a way to capture this moment outside of his memory. She released him briefly, only to spit on his cock before swallowing it again. Her enthusiasm and greediness never faltered; on her knees she had more power than any woman in his fledgling republic. He shuddered; his body was tingling and on fire much like his White House had been. He was hitting the back of her throat, moaning, and she encouraged him to go harder.

“Baby,” he pulled away, “I’m so close.”

“Good,” she exhaled, before greedily resuming. Her hands cupped and gently squeezed his federalist paper weights as she continued sucking. It was a point of pride now, pleasing him, bringing him to orgasm with just her mouth. Normally she would demand some kind of reciprocation (demand was a strong word; he was forever amenable), or expect to feel him take her from behind, but today she determined was all about him. And he was close, she could feel it building, feel him finally recognizing he was allowed to release inside her inviting mouth. Always so polite, she mused, but fuck polite.

She heard rustling as he grabbed the bed to steady himself, his other hand tightening on her. He moaned and panted, his pace quickened. And then, finally, forcefully, he came, filling her mouth quickly, crying out as he lost himself in release.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he moaned, and she took it all, swallowing it without missing a beat. He looked down at her, his eyes wide, and she met his eyes and gently wiped her mouth. He extended a hand to help her up, though candidly he was unsure if he had the strength. She stood, a wan smile on her pretty face.

“You’re incredible,” he embraced her.
“I just want you to feel good, baby,” she replied, privately enjoying that they were nearly the same height. He lowered himself to the bed, still unsteady from the force of his orgasm.

“Kiss me.” he insisted, his demand carrying even less weight than his demands to Congress about instituting a draft.

Unlike Congress, she gave in.


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