Chapter 21

That night's news hit the United States and most of the world like a powerful bomb. President Cunningham's speech to the NAACP was viewed as one that assuredly the Republicans clearly lost the election. The conservatives moaned that Gabrielle had made one of the most awful blunders in American political history.

The Democrats had a collective orgasm knowing that Horace Wilson would be sitting in the White House in less than six months from today. He immediately went on the attack sending his running mate John Hall to the NAACP Convention to counter attack all that the President said the day before. He claimed every thing she said was just the opposite. That the Republicans committed all these atrocities and it was the Democrats under the leadership for Franklin Delano Roosevelt that turned things around and showed the Negro people the light of the right way.

Had Governor Hall waited two days, he might have pulled this off. However the Republicans proved Hall as being wrong. Everything Gabrielle said was the truth. She had her facts in order. The sleep she lost for all those nights to prepare that speech spoke volumns as she sat late at night with sleepy female Secret Servants to keep guard. She wore a silken nightgown and a beautiful floral pink rose satin robe that Chris spent a fortune on for her Christmas present. She made up for her lack of sleep at night by taking her usual naps in the afternoon.

All over the internet bloggers were mostly backing up Gabrielle's side of the story. On the streets her name was vilified in the black neighborhoods. Behind closed doors the power brokers saw that President Cunningham would win the election. Many felt she was trying to throw the race but some saw the wisdom in the little blonde's head. She was acting dumb. Dumb like a fox. The name given to her which she detested.

"Feeling better?" President Cunningham, leaned down to kiss her husband's forehead. He was staying in Camp David with an around the clock cardiologist and two nurses. This way she could campaign without worrying about something happening to him while she was away.

"Walter says hi," he grinned. He was on his back being fed intravenously which included a morphine drip. Chris refused to have his operation until the election was over. Win or lose he'd happily go under the knife knowing if his wife was going to look after him or the nation. Like Gabrielle, he never dreamed that she would reach such heights in life. True, she had stepped over many bodies to get where she was at but she couldn't help that.

Gabrielle laughed at his remark. She wondered if the three medical geniuses knew what they were talking about. "The next time you see Walter tell him I said hi and would love to see him again."

"I'll do that."

"What's for dinner for my big guy?" she asked the doctor.

"He's having scrambled eggs with no salt, toast and tea, Madam President," the doctor replied. "What may I tell the cooks to make you?"

"I'll have the eggs as well," she smiled. "Lots of jam on my toast."

"Yes Madam President," he rushed to the kitchen.

Gabrielle pulled up a chair, sat down. "So what about Walter?" she whispered running her slim fingers through his hair.

"Walter needs a warm place," Chris whispered back. "His two friends are full of a certain liquid to relieve him. "Uh ... here's our supper," he said.

"I would like you to fix up my bed so my husband and I can have a night to sleep together. It's been a long time," Gabrielle asked the doctor.

She shooed the Secret Service away and once the medical team was finished setting up the tubes up, she sent them out. As soon as the door was closed, she knelt and pulled his shorts off.

"Hello Walter," she held his penis tenderly before squeezing it. "Miss me?"

"Yes," Chris replied gruffly.

"Awwww," Gabrielle smiled, leaning down and opening her mouth. She breathed hot air onto the head then lightly licked his slit. "Any better?"

"Juuuussst a tiny bit," he whispered.

"How about this?" Her tongue slid from its base all the way up underneath where his circumcision scars were still tender.

"Oooooooooo," he sighed quietly. "That's nice."

"I'm worth something to you, aren't I?" she giggled.

"Yes, you are. The best wife a man can ever ask for," he agreed.

"It doesn't matter that I'm a skunky President, is it?"

"It matters that you are the President, Gaby. It's just that you are such a good... ," he tried to find the perfect word.

"Lay," she finished off the sentence. "I'm a great lay, aren't I?"

"The best, the very best."

"Just stay still. I don't want to hurt your heart," Gabrielle whispered, taking his erection into her mouth. She closed her eyes and swirled her tongue about the throbbing head before swallowing it as much as she could. Chris grabbed two rails as Gabrielle's hair tickled his thighs. It wasn't long before he felt his cum building up. The question was would she spit or swallow. She had done both. He shot into her mouth. She was swallowing. Chris felt his heart racing but no pain or flutters.