queen on her own color ♡ JFK

p.7 heatwave

Accepting that commandment and taking it seriously, Christina went for the armchair by the windows. It made an unpleasant shrill noise as she moved it so it would face the large space in front of the bed, which could serve perfectly as a dance floor. She then braved to touch the President, putting her hand over his wrist to indicate him sit down.

Hand on her waist, posing like a model from a magazine, Christina became Pearl in front of him.

"Would you like the vanilla version or the Cherry Pop take, sir?"

"I already had vanilla. Let me see what the cherry is all about." The fact that he was on the edge of the seat already indicated how much he was looking forward to it. "If anyone is entitled to it, it's me, is it not?"

"Naturally, Mr President." Christina's smile trembled. Did he really know what he was in for? "Allow me a couple of minutes of wardrobe change, if you please." If she was really going to do it, she might as well do it properly.

He lifted his palm up toward the bathroom door, signaling her to go ahead.

Christina had indeed brought with her a slightly more subtle version of her Cherry Pop act garments that had served as a 'prototype' for the definitive costume. Underneath a seashell-colored skirt, a leotard of a similar umber tone cuddled her curves so seamlessly tight that it seemed like a second skin. She'd preemptively brought it knowing the situation would never actually present itself. But it did.

The girl had forgotten to breathe for half a minute after she'd put the costume on. It was nothing but the sense of reality knocking on her head.

The President of the United States was there at the other side of the door, in her suite, waiting to witness an act for one. An act of... questionable integrity. It could put both their integrities into question were it not for the fact that what they were about share would be something exclusive, intimate, and private. Nobody on the outside had to know.

Christina bit the inside of her cheek, and her jaw wobbled as she did so, causing her to hurt herself.

I'm going to make a fool of myself in front of him.

She pursed her lips tightly to stop the harmful fidgeting. She would, by common standards, be throwing away all that sense of classiness that she'd been trying to embody earlier that day. But then again, perhaps she would just be trading it for another side of the same coin; sophistication. That's what the President appreciated. That's what she would give him.

His legs were crossed, causing his pants crease upward and making a navy blue sock peek through. When he drifted his gaze away from his home and settled it upon Christina, his square jaw lowered for his mouth to hang slightly agape.

"It's not exactly the real deal..." She shrugged, trying to shrug off insecurity in the process. "But close."

"You are the real deal."

His faith in her was mystifying. And empowering.

At first, she feared that the lack of an orchestra may have made it awkward. But amidst the silence, the rhythm of her uneven breaths eventually synchronized to the sound of his. Besides allowing her to relax, they also ended up providing the tempo and a cue for her to begin the one-woman-show.

"Happy birthday to you."

Black velvet enveloped her voice and covered him with it too. So soft, but profound enough to reverberate. Its dark femininity definitively transformed her from Miss Christina Clark, to the Pearl White he'd heard so much about. He'd had his doubts when he first met her about whether that inconspicuous girl could actually be what was said of her. Now those doubts were all but forgotten.