The President's Advisor

"Cooler as opposed to depraved?" Ann asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Depraved can be cool," Simone replied defensively.

"Dr. Szucks' office," Simone said into the phone when she answered it as it rang. "I'll tell her," she said, hanging up. "The President wants to see you."

"Why?" Ann asked.

"They didn't say," Simone replied. "Good luck."

"Yeah," Ann said, getting to her feet and grabbing her briefcase in case she was asked for something that she was working on.

After going through the usual overdone security, Ann was admitted into the Oval Office where the President sat behind his desk glowering, his arms crossed over his chest in his classic, pouting pose.

"It's a fake, that's what it is, like the news, fake, fake, fake," he exploded as she came into the room and stopped in front of his desk. "Isn't it?"

"I don't know what to think, Mr. President," Ann replied. "I've only heard and seen some bits and pieces."

"I'm telling you that it's all a fake," the President insisted. "I knew her, for years. I would have known if she was like that. I have a nose for those things. I know people. I'm telling you that it was a fake and it caused her to have a heart attack, the poor woman. She was doing a great job."

"Can you imagine a society, married, extremely religious woman actually behaving like that, sex with her brother, and with a nigg...black?" the President asked.

"I suppose anything is possible, Mr. President," Ann replied.

"You think so, do you?" the President bellowed at her, glaring. "Would you do anything like that? You're married, prestigious job, economic brainiac; would you do anything like that?"

"Mr. President, you sent for me," Ann reminded him, avoiding the question. "How may I help you?"

"I need...I want..." the President began, searching for a reason.

"Daddy!" Eve Pocksy cried out as she entered the Oval Office, anguish etched onto her small-featured face, her skin too tight from all of the plastic surgery procedures at such a young age, her surgically enhanced breasts not bobbing a millimeter as she flounced into the room, licking her lipstick-stained teeth as she leaned over to hug her father, one hand on his head holding him against her breast as one of his hands slid up the back of her leg all the way to her ass, gently squeezing and kneading it as she assured him before standing up and seeming to notice Ann.

"Who are you?" Eve asked, peremptorily, looking down her surgically chiselled nose at her, disdain pouring from every pore of her body as she looked at her with obvious contempt.

"My name is Dr. Ann Szucks, the President's Economic Advisor," Ann replied formally, ignoring the stupid little twit. Her, I wouldn't fuck, she decided, fighting not to smile at the thought.

"Jerry and I have $250 million too much money this year," she said obliviously, referring to her empty suit of a husband, whose family had made their money as property grifters. "What should we do with it. We don't want to pay any taxes."

"Oh, that's easy," Ann replied, smiling. "To totally avoid taxes on that money, you can donate it to charity and you won't have to pay the taxes on it."

"You're not serious?" Eve said, staring at her.

"I assure you, there would be no taxes to pay," Ann replied seriously.

"And there would be no money, either," Eve snapped. "Why did you give someone so stupid this job?" she asked her father.

"Now, now, Ann's smart, the smartest," the President responded. "I only hire the best, the smartest. They all want to work for me so that they can learn how to be even better, smarter. There's never been a president like me, gets so much done. We'll talk again later," he said, dismissing Ann.

Out of the corner of her eye as she walked to the door and exited, Ann saw the President's hand slide up the back of his daughter's leg again as she stood there with her hand on his shoulder.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Do you think that he really thinks that anyone is going to buy that?" Bill asked as they watched the news that evening as a reporter explained that the White House questioned the veracity of the photo, suggesting that it had been created and used ultimately as a weapon to murder the Secretary of Education.

Everyone, all media companies, requested access to the photo for testing, but the White House demurred, saying that the FBI was conducting their own tests and that the results would be announced at the proper time.

"Does it bother you?" Ann asked that night as she rode him, her pussy massaging his cock as she slid her hips back and forth on top of him.

"Never," Bill replied. "Ever. Your pussy is always magic to me."

"Not that," Ann laughed, bending over to kiss him. "Doves."

"I wish I could say that it does, but it doesn't," Bill replied, reaching up to pinch and squeeze her hard, dark nipples. "You forget, I've got the rest of her report. On so many different levels, she was scum with a sense of superiority and entitlement all because she was a winner of the lucky gene club and an extremely providential marriage. The whole world's better off without her and people like her."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"After a thorough investigation, the FBI has determined that the photo used in the murder of Secretary of Education Doves was a manufactured fiction, not real. A fake. This entire incident is now being treated as a murder and the appropriate steps are being taken to apprehend any and all participants in this insidious crime and the slander of a good servant of the American people," Stephan Groffs, White House Spokesman, said in the White House Press Briefing Room.

"Mr. President!" Stephan gasped when the President suddenly appeared from behind him. "Sir," he said, bowing and stepping back from the podium, relinquishing it to him.

"Susan Doves was a friend of mine. I knew her for a long time. Many years. Many years. She was my friend. She has been horribly treated and killed, dying in shame for something that she did not do and would never do. I know. She was my friend. For a long time. I'd know if she was a sick, twisted person like that created in that terrible fake photo. Fake photo. Sick. I'd know. I know people. Together we were doing great things, were going to do more great things, more than any president has ever done. Thank you," he said, turning and leaving the room without taking any questions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"My god, you are absolutely crazy," Ann said, laughing when she got home. "The whole country is ready to check into a mental institution."

All day the news organizations and social media were full of a trove of documents about Susan Doves, bank and financial statements showing the intricate web of illicit support for politicians, and hundreds of photos and dozens of videos of Susan Doves enjoying the most extreme of sexual pleasures with any number of people of varying races, ages, and sexes.

"Is there any way for them to trace anything back to you?" she asked.

"Not a chance," Bill replied. "They'd need quantum computers to figure it out and they haven't built them yet. They don't even know where to look, it's hitting them from so many different sides at once. They don't have the manpower or the expertise to do shit."

"You're far more devious than that distracted young man I met forever ago," Ann said, leaning over to kiss him.

"And I'm just getting started," Bill said, reaching for her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You sent for me, Mr. President?" Ann asked the next morning as she stood in front of his desk.

"What is going on?" the President asked, getting to his feet and pacing. "Why is all of this happening?"

"Mr. President, what part of the economy are you referring to?" Ann asked.

"Fuck the economy!" the President snarled, turning towards her, his face screwed up in an ugly rage. "Judges are quitting! I appointed them. Lifetime appointments. And they're quitting!"

"I really have no idea, Mr. President," Ann replied, marvelling at Bill once again. 26 judges of all levels that the President had appointed to lifetime appointments on the bench had suddenly quit en masse the previous evening. They gave no reason, just resigned.

"I mean, look at this!" the President said, indicating his desk.

"What, Mr. President?" Ann asked.

"Come here, look at this," the President said.

Almost holding her breath, Ann moved around the desk to stand next to the president, seeing the top of his desk for the first time. It was covered with prints of the photos of Susan Doves in various sexual situations.

"What do you think of this?" the President asked, indicating his desktop.

"She seems to have been very sexually oriented," Ann ventured.

"She was a fucking skanky slut!" the President shouted. "I mean, look at this," he said, pointing to a photo of Susan Doves with a huge black cock in her mouth, cum running down her chin. "I wish I had known," he said wistfully, rubbing his crotch.

"I'm surprised that none of this surfaced in the background check process," Ann said, feeling her pussy get wet as she looked at the various photos.

"She was a big donor, lots of money, important family and connections," the President explained, flipping through the photos and stopping on one where Susan Doves was looking back over her shoulder, her face covered with cum, a thick cock sticking in her ass. "Besides, Eve liked her, really pushed me to hire her. Now I know why," he said, looking through the photos and finally producing one which he stared at, Susan Doves naked on her hands and knees in front of a naked, seated Eve Pocksy, her legs draped over the arms of her chair, Susan Doves' face in her pussy. In the same photo was an inset, a close-up of Susan Doves' tongue in Eve's pussy, pressing just below her tiny button of a clit.

"Would you just look at that!" the President said exasperatedly, running a finger over his daughter's pussy. "She does have a sexy pussy, though, tiny delicate lips, tiny clit, but it's sensitive, very sensitive. The most sensitive. It doesn't look like she's had any children. Still very tight, very tight," he sighed.

"Oh, Daddy!" Eve Pocksy cried as she entered the Oval Office, concern etched on her heavily made-up face. "This is just terrible," she said as she approached the desk, leaning over to kiss her father on the forehead, her eyes widening when she noticed the top of his desk, the photo of her on top. "That's obviously a fake photo," she insisted, her face coloring. "Who could have known that she was like that?" she asked lamely.

"Beautiful pussy," the President sighed, his finger still tracing it on the photo.

"Why is she here?" Eve asked, as if finally noticing Ann standing on the other side of her father.

"She's okay," the President replied, his other hand sliding up the back of his daughter's leg, Eve showing no signs of even noticing. "I trust Ann, implicitly, totally. She's like family. Isn't that right?" he asked, looking up at Ann.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. President," Ann replied, trying not to stare at Eve adjusting her stance as her father's hand remained up beneath her skirt.

"I can't believe what a stink they're making about this," the President said, searching through the stack of photos and extracting another one, laying it next to the one of Eve getting her pussy eaten, a photo of Susan Doves and her brother smiling into the camera, her mouth filled with his cock.

"The press just knows no limits," Eve huffed. "It's shameful."

"How would you feel if the press suddenly splashed a photo of you sucking your brother's cock all over the place?" the President asked, looking up at Ann.

"I don't have a brother, Mr. President," Ann replied, very conscious of the slickness of her thighs as her pussy continued to leak, hoping that neither he nor Eve could smell her rising excitement.

"They've got a lot of nerve," Eve declared, shaking her head.

"Mr. President, perhaps I should go so that you can deal with..." Ann started to say.

"Yes, yes, of course," the President said distractedly. "We'll talk later."

Ann was in shock as she started to leave, seeing Eve shudder, the hand not on her father's shoulder reaching for the desk as she braced herself, her father's hand still clearly up beneath her skirt.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"God, I almost came right then and there," Ann gasped, holding Bill's head tightly against her pussy as he slurped at her juicy quim that evening. "He was rubbing himself and his hand was way up beneath Eve's skirt."

"Nothing about him would surprise me," Bill said, looking up from her pussy to smile at her.

"Are you going to go after him now?" Ann asked as Bill rose up, pushing her legs up against her chest as he slid his cock into her.

"No," Bill replied as he pumped his cock in and out of her hot, wet pussy. "Too easy. I want to destroy his support first, isolate him, then when the public is ready to believe anything, then I'll go after him. Until now, I've only gone after the low-hanging fruit," Bill said, pulling his cock from her pussy and pulling her forward, feeding his glistening, gooey cock into her mouth, sliding it over her tongue, sighing when he felt her lips close on the shaft as she sucked with her whole mouth, tasting herself all over him just as he exploded, cum gushing into her mouth. "Now the hard work starts," he gasped as he watched his wife finish sucking him off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Ms. Gaily, please come in," Bill said when he answered the door at the condo and saw the spare woman standing there, short red hair, green eyes, freckled, upturned nose, 5'5" and perhaps 130 pounds.

"This is all very unusual, Mr. Szucks," Claire Gaily said as she sat on the sofa, Bill taking a chair to the side.

"Nobody knows that any better than me, Ms. Gaily," Bill replied. "I'm happy that you agreed to meet me."

"Well, how could I not?" Claire replied. "Your note was fairly simple, but effective. Can you do what you imply, get rid of Senator Lamm?"

"Yes," Bill replied simply. "The question is, would you be interested in replacing him? You've been the most outspoken person in your state to denounce him, pointing out his constant inconsistencies and flip-flops. He actually has two people working full time to try and discredit you."

"Let him try," Claire said, steel in her eyes. "He can search all he likes, he'll only come up empty."

"Yes, well, are you ready to step fully into the spotlight, take the heat that will inevitably result from taking him down?" Bill asked.

"Yes, definitely," Claire replied. "I've dreamed of nothing else for years now. He's become more and more absurd, supporting and excusing the most egregious behavior on the part of the President. He's made a fool of himself and our state is fast becoming a laughing stock for continuing to support him, allowing him the platform of the Senate to advance his absurd stupidity."

"It won't be cheap," Bill said firmly.

"If you can help me bring him down, it will be worth whatever it costs," Claire said. "But I can't imagine how I would be his replacement. The Governor is one of his best friends. He'll appoint someone cut from the same cloth if he resigns."

"Let me show you something, then we'll talk harsh reality," Bill said, extracting an 8x10 photo from the folder in front of him and laying it on the coffee table in front of Claire Gaily.

"Oh, Jesus!" Claire gasped when she saw the photo, her hand trembling as she picked it up and stared at it.

"Do you recognize her?" Bill asked.

"Yes, Tamika Jones, the Governor's token black on his personal staff," Claire replied, breathing heavily.

"Something to drink, some green tea, perhaps some wine?" Bill asked as Claire stared at the photo of the Governor standing next to his seated aide whose mouth and eyes were wide open as she looked down at Senator Lamm's cock in her pussy, her hand wrapped around the Governor's cock, her mouth and chin covered in cum.

"I think a whiskey, if you have it," Claire replied, still breathing heavily as she stared at the photo.

"Why not bring the Governor down, too?" she asked after gulping half of her drink down.

"Not yet," Bill replied. "I think he's so weak, so without any substance, that we can use him. First of all, he'll appoint you to replace the soon-to-be former Senator. Then we'll press him to support positive change and remove certain obstacles to progress. He's going to have the biggest change of heart and attitude ever seen in the conservative South."

"Okay, I can see how that could make sense in a twisted sort of way," Claire said, nodding. "His sycophantic supporters will do anything he asks of them, even believing white is black."

"Exactly," Bill replied. "We're going to use him to promote and change not only policies, but also the basic thinking of his supporters. Since he stands for nothing but himself, it will be easy. He's a weak, venal piece of shit who is only worried about himself. He's the kind of person who would kill themselves if something like this were ever made public."

"You mean like Susan Doves?" Claire asked perceptively.

"I read that she had a heart attack," Bill replied ingenuously.

"Yes, she did, didn't she," Claire said, looking at him long and hard. "What is this going to cost me?" she asked.

"$1 million," Bill replied, "and it's not just this, it's my entire research results on Senator Lamm. There's much more, though this is the most shocking in light of his lifelong denigration of blacks and his blatant racism. Like you, I want him gone, but I also want him humiliated, so destroyed that he'll be ashamed to ever show his face in public again."

"And how would you suggest I go about doing that?" Claire asked. "If we want to keep the Governor, I can't use this photo publicly."

"That photo will be used privately, to ensure the Governor's cooperation," Bill replied. "The Senator will not be made aware of it for the time being, though the Governor will be. There's plenty here," he said, tapping his folder, "to more than guarantee the Senator's ruin and resignation. Even without the photo, the Governor would have no choice but to react."

"$1 million?" Claire asked.

"Yes, and you cannot reveal the source of or how you came by the information that you're going to use," Bill said.

"In principle, I agree," Claire said. "Can you give me an idea of what the information you have is?"

"Sure," Bill said, extracting a typewritten sheet of paper from his folder and handing it to her. "I have ironclad supporting documentation for everything there in this folder."

"My god! How could you possibly have or get such information?" Claire gasped as she quickly read the sheet of paper that he had handed her.

"Of course, I won't answer that question," Bill replied, smiling. "Suffice it to say that I do."

"And when I am exposed as the source of all of this, the obvious reaction is going to be to demand to know how I came by such information," Claire observed.

"That is something that you will under no circumstances reveal," Bill said. "Quite frankly, the consequences of you breaking confidentiality with us would be nothing short of catastrophic for you and your career, to be blunt."

"You're threatening me?!" Claire asked, astonished.

"Not at all, just pointing out that our ability to produce this kind of research product is not limited," Bill replied.

"There's nothing in my life, my background, that could hurt me," Claire said.

Without saying anything, Bill opened a laptop and typed on the keyboard, then turned it to face her, her face immediately draining of color as she watched a video of herself and her husband with their best friends, all of them naked having sex together.