Mr. President 2(111)

What?

Oh come on, don’t look so fucking shocked. I’m sure prime time television has no fucking problem running ads for a virtual reality porn player. I mean, have you looked at what they put on television recently? Fuck, this shit is exactly what the audiences are waiting for.

“We also have cross-promo licensing deals with all major fast food chains across the country as well as—” Cheryl would say more but all of a sudden my head jerks toward the door as it flings open.

I immediately put the call on mute. Then I put it on hold. Whatever is about to fucking go down does not need to be interrupting this important fucking call that's going to make me billions of dollars.

Jesus. I don’t know why I’m so fucking jumpy all of a sudden.

I realize how silly I’m being when Brittney walks in.

Instead of armed thugs being led by Simon Conners, it's the most beautiful girl in the fucking world walking in wearing a tight dark blue wraparound dress.

I know what you’re wondering right now, and fuck you for wondering, but yes, my cock does twitch a little bit seeing the fabric of Brittney’s dress cling to her fucking perky and full breasts and the rest of her slender body.

“Brittney?” I ask her. I mean, despite wanting to fuck her, I’m a bit surprised. She’s never surprised me at work like this before. “What’s going on, babe?” I ask.

She takes several steps toward me, her face determined.

“I need to withdraw from the project and end my association with Illicit Entertainment,” she says, as if she’s rehearsed this on the way over. “I need off the team.”

If she had stood there and told me she was growing a third fucking tit I wouldn't have been more shocked than I am at that moment.

I stand up, more because this moment is too important to be fucking sitting down.
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“What do you mean?” I manage to ask her, not even sure I heard her right.

She shakes her head, and it looks like she might burst into tears at any point.

“You heard me, Ethan,” she says to me. “I need off the IE team. I’m sorry, but I can't be involved any more.”

I walk around the desk. This isn't a fucking employee problem anymore. This isn't a Human Resources case at this point.

No.

This is something wrong with my girlfriend.

There, I don't care if she has trouble realizing that. Or doesn't want to admit it or whatever.

I fucking love this woman, and right now there is something that's bothering her.

“Babe, what the fuck is wrong?” I ask her and she’s about to answer when I realize she’s probably just going to say the same thing she has already. I stop her. “Wait,” I say and take a step toward her.

She looks up at me and there's the briefest flash of hope in her eyes. As if there's some way that maybe I can sort this out for her.

“I don't want to hear what the problem is if you can’t tell me, but know this babe,” I tell her and wrap my arms around her, bringing her close. “I will be with you no matter what the problem is. Hell, if you fucking killed someone I’ll be there with you to bury the fucking body.”

Brittney trembles and I pull back from her so I can look her in the eyes.

“Fuck the world, babe,” I tell her, my eyes piercing into her. “It’s you and me fucking forever,” I say with finality.

Brittney stares at me for a long, long time. Her eyes widen as if she’s realizing something for the first time. She uses her hand to wipe away some tears before they can form.

“Listen, I know you did fucking porn back in Los Angeles, but guess what? We’re a company that sells porn, so it’s fucking okay!” I exclaim and she laughs for a second. Bingo. I’m on the right track.

“I know there was probably some other shit that you’re not telling me, but listen to me, okay?” I say, and Brittney nods as she looks at me.

I take a deep breath. Fuck. Sure, I’ve told her I love her. But I’ve never put it in this way before like I’m about to do.

“I really don't care what the fuck you did, are doing, or will do, as long as you let me be around you,” I tell her and she gasps.

“I know I sound like a fucking pussy for saying that and don’t worry, you won't fucking walk all over me or something, but Brit, whatever it is, I’m always next to you because I fucking love you,” I finish.

Another fucking long pregnant pause.

She takes a step over and gets on her tiptoes. Her mouth comes to mine and she kisses me.

Long and fucking hard.

The kind that sends blood to your cock.

When she pulls back, she’s smiling.

“I love you too, you big romantic bear, you,” she says with a smirk and twinkling eyes.