It was dark outside when we pulled in front of the White House. The lights in the front lawn made it look bigger and intimidating.

I had to get through the same process as the previous few times I had visited Brian. I allowed Ben to scan me and check my bag, before I followed him upstairs.

We went to the West side of the building. Many people were still there, milling the corridors.

Ben stopped a passing man, who looked just as intimidating as him. He could pass easily as Will Smith’s brother, bulkier, more intimidating, but you get the idea.

“Hey, Vance! Do you mind escorting Mr. Taylor to Mr. Kinney? He’s the painter.”

Vance’s frown left his face as he watched me curiously. I figured he knew about me, or maybe he was confused at why was a painter seeing the President.

“Of course, sir. Follow me, Mr. Taylor.” Vance spun around, and I had to keep up with his long legs.

At some point, we passed a stream of people. Some were on the phone, others had pads and pens in their hands, heading somewhere hurriedly.

Suddenly, Vance stopped after taking me through a set of doors. It was quieter in this part.

“Hello, Ms. Morrison. I’ve got Mr. Taylor. Mr. Bruckner said the President was expecting him.”

The curly-haired blonde woman stood from her desk, smiling. She was wearing a pale pink tailored skirt and a cream colored dress shirt, looking like she stepped out of some magazine.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said joyfully. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced on your previous visits.”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” I had no clue who she was.

“Oh, it feels like I already know you. I am Cynthia Morrison.”

My eyes widened. She was the hero who endured Brian on a day to day basis. “I’m Justin, but of course, you know that.”

She smiled, waving to a sofa. “Mr. Kinney is on a phone call. I’ll let you know when he can have you.” She went to a side door, prompting someone to bring beverages for a guest.

I was about to tell her that it wasn’t necessary, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Did you take a detour to Alaska, Painter Boy?

I glanced at Cynthia, now sitting at her desk, clicking away. Why would she lie about Brian being busy?

I’m close… =)

Well hurry up and get your bubble butt here!

Are you busy? I had to know.

I can always make time for you. Now let me wrap up some things before you arrive.

I fidgeted on the sofa, understanding he was indeed busy.

The only other door leading outside the room I was in, opened and Brian appeared in the doorway. His shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up, and hair mussed up.

“If we want the element of surprise…you better get me Blake…last week!” He barked at his poor secretary.

I cleared my throat, making him look my way sharply.

His eyes widened, and his hand slipped from the door handle. “Well, if this isn’t a surprise!”

I went to him, stopping a good foot in front of him. He quirked a brow, grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer. “Blake. Now,” he snapped at Cynthia.

Once in his office, with the door tightly shut behind us, he kissed me briefly. It left me leaning into him.

“Cameras,” he whispered.

“We wouldn’t want another scandal around the President,” I joked.

“Don’t be a twat. Sit down. Whiskey at discretion. I hope to be done in half an hour tops.”

“If you’re busy…I can always…” I trailed off, unsure what I was suggesting.

“See if you fit under my desk? We said no to presidential scandal, Justin.”

I turned red. “I meant that—”

Cynthia barged into his office. “Mr. Schmidt will bring Mr. Wyzecki tomorrow.”

Brian frowned, stacking a pile of papers on his desk. “Do I want to know why you sent Schmidt after my Director of Communication?”

“He offered to get him yesterday when I mentioned you wanted to announce your...” She eyed me, clamping her mouth shut.

Brian rolled his eyes, leaning his ass against the desk, arms folded over his chest. “Justin knows I want to run again.” He caught my eye, grinning. “I’m going to make it official on Monday.”

“I still think it’s too late to announce it.” Cynthia held her head high as she talked. It showed that she didn’t take any bullshit from Brian.

“I’m the goddamn President. I can announce my candidature any time I damn well please!”

Once Cynthia was dismissed, Brian slumped in his leather chair, rubbing at his forehead. Then his eyes met mine, and a smile spread on his lips.

“Fuck it!” He stood, extending a hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

I slapped his hand, making him laugh.

We walked side by side toward his private bedroom, on the other side of the building. I did my best to ignore the stares and whispers.

Brian was stopped every few steps, checking things, chatting with various employees, signing on dotted lines. It felt like it took us a lifetime to reach his room.

Bruce was sitting guard at his door. His ears perked up when he heard us, then he waved his tail when he saw us, not moving an inch.

“Hey, buddy!” Brian crouched to pet his dog. “Sorry I didn’t have time for our walk earlier.” He scratched behind the dog’s ears.

“Do you think he wants out now?” I asked, joining them on the floor.

“Nah, someone took him out. I hope Ben brought your things to my room.” He winked at me, standing up.

Bruce was the first to get in the room when Brian opened the door.

“You allow him in here?” I asked, surprised.

“Sometimes. If you don’t want him, he can sit just fine outside my room.”

“Nah. I don’t mind him.” I petted Bruce, making him whine and loll his tongue out.

Brian unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off, and throwing it on a chair. “Give me a few minutes to freshen up. Careful with Bruce. Don’t overexcite him.”

I sat on the stool at the foot of the bed, fidgeting.

I had no idea what to do – I could unwrap the painting and wait for Brian to come out of the bathroom finding it on display, I could undress and surprise him with my naked bod on the bed, or I could sit there like a frozen virgin about to have his first time, staring at the bathroom door like it was a bomb ready to blow up.

Even Bruce gave up getting my attention after a while, heaving himself half under the stool, sighing dramatically.

Brian returned dressed in a silk bathrobe. He stared at me amused. “What's up?”

I dried my clammy hands on my jeans, offering him a small smile. “I want to show you the portrait.”

“And that has you acting like a spaz?” Brian chuckled, advancing until he was standing in front of me. “I love all your work, Justin.”

“But this is you! Your portrait,” I protested.

Brian went to the small table by the window where the portrait lay. He carefully peeled off the paper protecting it, then gasped.

I stood a little to the side, biting on my thumb, watching his eyes widening as he stared at my art. He brushed the back of his fingers to the canvas, soaking in the feeling, then he looked my way. I suddenly felt small and under the microscope with Brian's intense gaze on me.

“Justin,” he breathed out, returning his attention to the portrait. “Wow. I mean...I've never...”

Encouraged by his reaction, I teased, “Speechless, Mr. President?”

“God, I'm usually more eloquent. You have a special trait to make me lose my train of thought, Justin.” Brian stepped closer, cupping my cheek. “All your art is spectacular, but this portrait...it's simply beautiful.”

I shrugged modestly. “I had a perfect muse.” I reached out a hand to thread it through his hair. “You were an exemplar model, even when it was particularity hard to have you around to get down the details, but for that I spent endless hours on the internet, having the perfect excuse to drool over your photos.”

Brian laughed, hugging me tightly. “Thank you.” He kissed me long and hard, making me forget how to breathe. “You know what we never talked about?”

“Your kinks,” I replied without missing a beat.

Brian opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, before chuckling. “There's that, I agree. But I was aiming for the material part.” He pointed to his portrait, rubbing his fingers together to show me he meant payment.

“Oh! I thought you had that covered with Steve, my agent.”

“We only signed a contract. He told me that you choose the price at the end.”

I sighed, because it was true, but I usually talked with Steven about it. We had failed to talk much since he assigned me this job. “I'm not sure, Brian.”

“This looks pretty expensive, Mr. Taylor, so don't sell yourself cheap.” Brian narrowed his eyes, imagining I was going to say a small price.

“I can't tell you a price right now. Let me run it by Steven. He has to approve it.”

Brian fought a smile. “I already talked to him about this. He told me your usual charge for something like this.”

“Oh, my God!” I could feel my cheeks heating. “It sounds like you know the price. Look, as an example, the last portrait of something so small – head and shoulders – was around $1,500. Yours might be a little...What?” I pulled away when Brian furrowed his brows. “It's not too expensive, right? Shit. It is.”

“Justin!” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Why do you sell yourself so cheap? Damn. I'd pay ten thousand without blinking.”

“You'd...what?” My mouth was as dry as the desert. He surely was joking.

“Okay, I'll make you a deal. I'm not paying less that five thousand, so you better tell your boss that price.”

“But it's insane! The most I charged someone was three thousand and that was because Steven interfered when the man wanted a nude. It was this extravagant middle-aged man with a beer gut and hairy chest, all gross, but I sucked it up. Steven told him the price upfront for what he wanted, but not before checking with me if I would be okay painting something like that.”

Brian scowled. “I can only imagine.”

“It wasn't that bad. He kept fucking up the lower half of the portrait because he got hard, but at least he was decent looking down there if you get what I mean.” I winked, unsure how we got talking about the only commission I wanted to forget I ever did.

Brian dropped his hands to the hem of my shirt, pushing it up until his fingers were on my stomach. “That's wonderful news, Painter Boy. You do nudes.”

“Oh my....Brian! No way!”

“I remember I allowed you to sketch me on the New Year's night.”

“That was different.”

“We can do it off the record. I did tell you that I want to hire you as my painter. You didn't believe me.”

I pressed my forehead to his shoulder, shuddering when one of his wandering fingers brushed my nipples. “Steve will kill me.”

“He doesn't have to know.” He kissed my neck, tweaking my nipple. “Say yes, Painter Boy.”

“You can be very persuasive, Mr. President,” I whispered.

“That's my superpower.”

I laughed nervously. “Let me think about it.”

Brian undressed me slowly, kissing every newly uncovered part of my body. “Of course, there will be rewards, such as a reserved spot in that bed...” He nodded to his bed, quirking a brow. “You'll have someone to accompany you back home whenever you want...”

“Whoa! Back up! You want me to, like, move in? Are you absolutely nuts?”

“Is that any way to talk to your president?”

“When he's slightly crazy...sure.” I bit my lip, toying with the bathrobe's tie. “And there will be no payment.”

“Unless it is in sexual favors. You wanted to hear about my kinks,” Brian said against Justin's nipple, licking and sucking at the pebbled skin.

“What have I agreed to?”

“Nothing yet.”