The Prime Minister's Wife

Chapter 2: Mr. America

CHAPTER 2 | Mr. America |
~Joel~
My guests have arrived, at last. I have had the honor to meet the second best leader, Oliver Kingston, and his very lovely wife, Virginia.

What is a US-born lady doing with the leader of Britain? The thought is unsettling. Her name IS Virginia for Christ's sake.

I've seen her pictures before, her hair, it's magnificent. Her eyes are a gray hue, something I know I could get lost in- but not the only thing.

I'm a leader, someone wise, someone the people look up too. The ladies don't dare to speak of how I used them for my pleasure, I am a man of needs. Of course I'm going to look at a beautiful woman like Virginia and have distasteful thoughts.

Before heading out to greet them, I look at myself in the mirror one last time, making sure my hair looks nice, a little bit of curls at the top, very faint. I make sure the edges are well trimmed and you can't see my 4 O'Clock shadow creeping up on my face. I check my breath, and check for signs of unusual odor. Ok, I'm good to go.

I stand waiting near the front, I see a limousine pulling in, with loads of security surrounding it.

A man steps out and goes around to the back, and opens the door for Oliver. Oliver looks like an intimidating man, but nothing I can't handle.

He immediately walks up to the gates. What the hell? Where's Virginia? Oh fuck no. He did not-

She steps out of the limousine gracefully, acting as if her husband wasn't an ass. She's wearing a cherry red dress with a matching headband and accompanied with red lipstick. My god.

Her figure is elegant, something I could ravish. Her breasts are big, and so is her ass. She has a tiny waist, and legs that have a little muscle to them, not too much, though.

Does her husband even see what he has? They get closer and it gets more intense. I'm starting to sweat- but why?

Virginia steps forward, she seems to be all I can focus on at the moment. "Hello, Joel. I'm Oliver Kingston and this is my wife, Virginia." He says sternly.

"Hello, thank you for coming, I'm Joel Kennedy." I take Virginia's hand as I've finished the sentence, and gently kiss it.

She smells of roses. I look at her face and closely examine. Her makeup is flawless, her teeth are perfect. She has the cutest mole on her cheek- and that sets her apart from the rest.

Her red lipstick doesn't suit her, I can tell she was forced to wear it. But she's still stunning as ever. Her eyeliner is bold, but sexy.

She doesn't seem like a dress-up kind of gal, even though pin-up looks quite good on her, I bet she loves to get comfy, loves to get naked. The thought of her naked makes me squirm, especially now that I'm taking a glance at her body, I notice how she isn't wearing a bra, perfect.

Why would it be perfect? She's not my wife, but why would I care either way? This is business. Business only.

We sit across from each other, eye contact was going to make it impossible for me to think. Great.

Her upturned nose flares as she talks to her husband, her nose is so cute. Uh what? I have no idea where these thoughts come from. I'm a man who likes to fuck. And fuck only. I see something I like, I take them home, use them, and tell them to leave. That's how it always was and that's how it's always going to be.

Camera's are capturing every moment, like if they didn't take the shot they would've missed everything.

We talk about trade between our countries; and foreign affairs. That's usually what goes when I have an encounter with another leader. The same shit.

Then we are on the topic of my civil rights speech, how appropriate for a matter that has nothing to do with this man.

"Your speech was the most inspiring one I've heard in a while." Prime Minister Kingston acts as if I'm some racist bastard and talking about African Americans deserving freedom and having the same chances as any white man was some burden to me. As if it took a lot.

No, I love all people. Despite my use of women, that doesn't mean I don't respect the higher sort. You throw yourselves at me, I'll treat you the same.

If you're a higher intellectual, you'll get an equal level of intelligence back. If you're a respectable negro, I'm a respectable white man.

What goes around always comes back around. All men are created equal is in the commandments for a reason. It's in my heart and my duty to follow it, always.

"Good evening my fellow citizens, this afternoon, following a series of threats and defined statements, the presence of Alabama National Guard Men..." you can hear my speech on almost every radio, talking of Little Rock, Alabama, and how we needed our forces come in and walk the African American students into their classes without getting assaulted or attacked in any way.

The verbal threats are something we can't control, but that doesn't mean we ignore them. I hear every word these racist pieces of shit say, oh how I would like to sock them.

"Yes, well I tend to stand up for things that are important. If a white man is important- who's to say a negro isn't? No one, that's who." I come off very aggravated. Good, because I am.

I know this man sitting in front of me in my Oval Office isn't a fair one. He's a white suprematist. The worst kind of man you could be. How can his wife stand him?

She looks down as if embarrassed by her husband. Good. She should be. "Will someone direct me to the washroom?" Kingston stands as if he's done nothing wrong. God, I hate this man. As he leaves, two guards go with him, leaving two with his wife and I.

"Would you mind giving me and Mrs. Kingston a minute alone, boys?" They look a each other in disbelief, and leave, shutting the door with them. Why did I do that in the first place? She looks very much uncomfortable. A little nervous, I must say.

She smiles and then looks to the ground while closing her legs. Hmm. "He'll be gone for a while." She quietly mumbles.

"Is that so?" I look at her questioningly.

"He's been...sick." She looks up, a little flushed. I nod my head in understanding.
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