It’s nice waking up with him again. I want to savor what little time we will have together like this, now, while I have it. After burning throughthese two weeks, over the next two years we’ll be forced to rely on stolen moments here and there. Whole nights together will probably be rare once she officially declares and begins her campaign.
It makes me regret even more I didn’t call him way back then and choose a different path in life. The calm, sweet peace filling me now is the ethereal thing I’ve hopelessly chased ever since that week.
A peace I thought I’d never feel again.
Although, then again, once Samuels hits the campaign trail, it might be easier for Christopher to snag alone time time in a room with me than it will be in Washington. We could always claim we’re trying to save the campaign money by staying together.
Except what if he gets reassigned by Secret Service?
I know I shouldn’t worry about that, because he toldme not to, but I can’t help it. It’s a fact of life. He can say all he wants that won’t happen, but he can’t promise me. Not really.
He’s sweet to say it, though.
Thanksgiving Day, we’re the beneficiaries of a warm spell in Florida, and we sit on my lanai in shorts and eat our small feast in the sun.
I’m sitting with a slightly sore ass, because yesterday Chris received an order there at myhouse. The package included several paddles, canes, and other objects.
I’m also sitting there with a semi-erect cock, because my body happily remembers pain and pleasure are entwined, and both are better for it.
“This is delicious, thank you.” Once again, it’s Chris cooking for us. He’s teaching me how to cook. Yes, I managed to survive on my own all these years, but DC has great takeout, andLauren takes great pity on me.
Hey, I make a mean salad, thank you very much. And I’m a discriminating connoisseur of cereal.
“You’re welcome.”
There’s something so…domesticabout all of this.
I’m terrified it won’t last once the next step begins.
“What happens after the election?” I ask. “If she wins?”
He shrugs. “I guess you’ll be chief of staff, right?”
“What about us?”
“I don’t understandthe question.” He forks a piece of turkey into his mouth.
“Are we still going to be together?”
“Kev, nothing we do changesus. Logistics might change, or we might end up apart for short stretches of time during the election, or even after.” He indicates me and him. “Nothing aboutuschanges. Can I tell you where we’ll be living? No. Can I tell you exactly what we’re telling people after thatpoint? No. Do we need to be careful and discreet? Yes. I don’t want my business splashed all over DC, and neither do you or Shae. No, Secret Service can’t fire me for being bi. Yes, they can reassign or terminate me if they feel my private actions interfere with my job.”
Never try to bullshit a reporter. “That’s not answering the question.”
“Yes, it is, in the best way I can. I don’t want totell you yes, we’ll be living in my condo, when we end up moving somewhere. I can’t foresee the future. She might lose and then I retire and you and I end up moving to California because I get a job with a security contractor. Or we move to New York because you get hired by a network once your non-compete has expired.”
That answer mollifies me. That he included an option of us moving formyjob.“Who told you about that, anyway?”
He shrugs. “Ask Shae. She’s the one who had the intel.”
“You’rethe Secret Service agent.”
Another shrug. “She’s a senator who has a lot of connections. I don’t ask for her sources, and she doesn’t ask for mine. If you really want to know, ask her.”
“Can’t you tell her to tell me?”
He grins. “Ican, but I won’t. Not that I think she’d tell me anyway.”
“You could order her to.”
