Praise Me: President (Praise Me Daily)
Praise Me: President: Chapter 5

This is getting embarrassing.

I cannot physically control myself around President McAlister.

I’ve all but offered myself to him on a silver platter twice in one day, even after I resolved to maintain my professionalism. Now, I’m standing at the perimeter of Senator Stokes’ office, behind a row of flashing cameras, watching as the president shakes the hands of several miners who were rescued after being trapped in the earth for several days.

Pierce looks every single one of them in the eye and gives them a firm shake, exchanging a few words just between them, not for the benefit of the cameras. Long gone is his jacket, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms. His hair perfect in its disarray. Every woman in the room is watching him with slack-jawed appreciation, from interns to reporters.

“Senator Stokes, what will you and the president be discussing on this visit?” asks someone holding a tape recorder.

“Today is all about honoring the sacrifices of our treasured workers of industry here in West Virginia. However, we’re humbled by President McAlister’s presence in our fine state and see it as a sign of promising things to come between West Virginia and the new administration.”

“Just honored to shake the hands of these brave men,” Pierce rumbles with a firm nod, his answer shining with authenticity, especially when compared to the senator’s reply. “Thank God they were able to return home to their families.”

Everyone is charmed by Pierce and the quiet conversation he resumes with one of the miners, his hand gestures so familiar to me. I can only watch him and sigh, my thighs squeezed tightly together beneath my dress. I haven’t had a chance to change into a new pair of panties and these are growing damper by the second, just from watching the president’s back muscles shift under the starched white shirt, hearing his low crack of laughter in response to something said by the senator.

When they fan out and face the cameras to pose for pictures, he doesn’t give one of those phony politician smiles, he just looks patiently at the row of lenses, a small groove between his brows, as if he’s not sure he likes the fanfare. His lips are a shade darker than usual, a hint swollen, and I’m the only one in the room who knows why.

We made out on Marine One.

I sat on the president’s lap and kissed him like tomorrow would never come.

Like he never told me a relationship was impossible.

Those stolen moments in the back of the helicopter will surely go down as the best ones of my entire life. A real man is man enough to serve his woman. Don’t ever forget that. Those words revolve around my head, packing more meaning every time, the memory of his long fingers testing and stroking my knee, making me hot beneath my dress, the material of my underwear sodden and uncomfortable.

“Thank you very much for your time,” the senator says to the assembled media, his smile toothy and broad. “We’re going to enjoy a luncheon with the president now, before we break to prepare for his reception gala tonight. He deserves to be spoiled a little before we send him back to the sharks in Washington.”

There’s an obligatory smattering of laughter before the media is hustled out of the event room, the miners herded by interns with clipboards and guided out a separate entrance, their photo op with the president and senator concluded. Secret Service and various staff members are left behind in the room, including myself, but I don’t have a chance to feel like a spare tool, because Pierce makes eye contact with me immediately, jerking his chin to indicate I should join him and the senator.

Trying not to hyperventilate—or give in to the paranoia that everyone in the room can tell my underwear is wet—I join Pierce at the front of the space.

“Senator Stokes, I’d like to introduce Eloise Rogers, youth council secretary.”

“An honor to meet you, Senator,” I say in my most proficient tone, holding out my hand for a shake…but he doesn’t take my offered hand right away. Instead, he rears back, visibly stunned, his attention skimming down the front of my body and back up, but not before detouring to my breasts. I hold on to my disgust, smile remaining in place, however, and he finally slides his clammy, too-smooth palm into mine, shaking my hand slowly.

“Well, well. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Rogers,” he says, gripping my fingers a beat too long. “Does the youth council secretary always travel with the president?” He passes McAlister a knowing grin. “Or only when she looks like you?”

One would like to think we’ve phased out sexual harassment of this nature, especially within the hallowed halls of the state houses, but I’ve been working in politics long enough to know we’re far from an ideal reality. Once the cameras retreat and the reporters are no longer recording, powerful men tend to say whatever their little hearts desire.

My smile never falters. I’ve had practice. “The president was kind enough to—”

“What the fuck did you just say, Stokes?” Pierce says, his tone deadly quiet. “How she looks is irrelevant. She’s here to detail an initiative that could benefit the young people of your state. If you can’t do your job and listen to her plan without being a pervert, I’ll start looking into endorsing someone else in the next election.”

Stokes’ face is ghostly white. “I apologize, sir. That was out of line.”

“Apologize to her. Now. Then show her some goddamn respect.”

“I truly do apologize, Ms. Rogers.” He presses a hand to his chest, head bowing. “It won’t happen again. Please tell me about your initiative.”

Honestly, I’m tongue tied and kind of emotional over Pierce defending me so passionately, but I gather my wits. Before I have a chance to begin, however, a Secret Service agent approaches with an air of urgency. “President McAlister, you’re needed on a call with the Prime Minister. We have him on the line in the salon, if you’ll follow me.”

Pierce curses, his jaw looking like it’s ready to crack. “Ms. Rogers is not to be left alone, is that understood? I want somebody from your team with her at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

He looks me hard in the eye. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sir.” I worship the ground you walk on. “Please, take the call.”

Pierce hesitates another few seconds, before he turns on a heel and marches out of the room, glancing back over his shoulder at me twice before disappearing around the corner. And my love for the president has never been more vindicated. In fact, I’m so warm and safe in the knowledge that he exists, that he’s in charge now, I have to blink back a layer of moisture in my eyes. Do him proud.

“Senator Stokes, you’ve already made great strides in destigmatizing mental health amongst your younger constituents, but the goal of the youth council is to make these resources available in early education…”