Chapter 41

Jennifer and I were wrapped in a lovers knot, sprawled naked and sweaty on the big bed upstairs in the Residence. Our evening started with a mandatory appearance at the Kennedy Center, for an award evening which dragged on for hours. The music was quite good but the program was slow and stilted.

At one point Jennifer reached down to adjust the strap on her high heels. She gave me a wicked smile which said so much without speaking and I found my concentration on her furry friend, instead of the actors, singers, poets and general, all around, celebrity types.

When Jennifer got all in to sex, her body flushed the most attractive shade of pink I’ve ever seen. Once her body takes control of her mind, Jennifer slithers over my body, using her tongue like a thermometer, searching for heat and arousal. To escape the slow torture, I like to twist her onto her back, spread her legs and take at least forty minutes finding all her erogenous zones. When my tongue takes possession on a particularly sensitive spot, Jennifer begins to undulate her hips and use her arms to try and capture me in place.

Sometimes she needed more. Her body demanded more sensation, more pleasure, or more time. Other times she wanted to shorten the time between arousal and orgasm. When she reached a premature orgasm, it was usually short lived and extreme. Often she couldn’t participate in whatever came next, because she was too winded, exhausted and generally screwed out to continue.

Sounds perfect, right?

In the midst of great sex, while we were still red faced and panting, she chose that moment to ask me about my job. We often talked about my job and all the fun things Jennifer got to do because she was Second Lady. The problem with the question she asked was that it was one I could not answer – no matter what.

“Tommy, why do you disappear downstairs for hours and hours every night?” Her face was radiant due to our extended sexual encounter. Even having just come, I found my body aroused and ready for more just from looking at her and hearing her voice.

I really did have it bad.

Happiness is so dangerous...

“Baby, there are parts of my job that have to remain secret. Often those secrets have to be kept until arrests are made, or indictments issued. Sometimes it’s because the information might get someone hurt, or killed. We keep those things safe in secure rooms that were built under the residence.

“Hackers can’t hack computers that are not attached to a computer wire or wireless network. Our CPU’s are hooked to each other but not to the internet. That way the people we have to protect can’t get hurt because someone didn’t properly secure their report. I’m not allowed to remove those reports if they are written. They have to stay locked up, inside the safe rooms.

“It’s just how it is.”

Jennifer seemed to accept my answer at face value.

At least I hoped so.

In the basement of the Residence my team was busy trying to work their way through the new information provided by Sam. The permutations of the thing were frightening because everything about it was off the wall.

How do you stuff all that smoke back into a bottle?

How do we protect Sam, prosecute those guilty of high crimes and treason, while protecting Sam’s posterior?

How do we protect Sam from assassins sent by people who’ve taken some kind of zealots vow of revenge?

Is it possible to protect Sam from a killer willing to trade his life to get to him?

The Secret Service and Marshals Service were all over Sam. Their work was legendary, but people who want to kill always seem to find the most ingenious ways to do so. It was often done right under our noses, which hurts like Hell and leaves a mark behind.

All that and more was on the list of things I could not share with Jennifer.

What I could share was more of my enormous interest in exploring her body, finding those places even she didn’t know would bring her pleasure and looking for better ways to push her over the top.

All of that would have been a perfect distraction had Jennifer not drawn back, touched her side and said, “That spot is so tender...” She showed me the spot and I could see that she was afraid of me touching her there, expecting it to hurt. Rather than hurt my beloved and without giving it another thought, I reached for the telephone beside the bed. When one of my assistants answered, I spoke very calmly but with just a hint of urgency in my voice, “Please find out if Doctor Abrams is in the states and make an appointment as soon as is humanly possible for Mrs. Morrison. If we have to fly to Sweden, that is fine, but make sure we get the first appointment possible.

When you know our schedule, make sure the people over at The Cottage know our plans.” The President likes to know when I leave D.C., so he doesn’t give someone the order to get me in for an appointment and then find out I was nowhere around.

Jennifer looked scared and her fear was being transmitted to me, which got me all wrapped around the axel. Rather than give in to fear, I pulled her into a lovers hug, and said, “We’ll go see the good doctor, find out all about scar tissue and come back home with a clean bill of health.