Red, White and Steamy

Chapter 1 : The Manhattan Mix-Up

Donald Trump had never been one to back down from a challenge. So, when the relentless pressures of political life became too much, he decided a change of scenery was in order. New York City, with its bustling streets and towering skyscrapers, seemed like the perfect place to recharge. Little did he know, he wasn't the only former president with that idea.

Joe Biden, after a tumultuous term and an even more chaotic aftermath, also sought solace in the Big Apple. He craved a space away from the constant media scrutiny and political debates. He needed a place where he could breathe, reflect, and maybe even find a bit of peace.

Both men, unbeknownst to each other, found themselves drawn to the same luxurious penthouse apartment in the heart of Manhattan. The building, known for its exclusivity and privacy, promised the tranquility they both desperately needed.

Trump arrived first, his usual entourage reduced to a single assistant and a few bodyguards. He stepped into the grand lobby, admiring the marble floors and crystal chandeliers. "Classy," he muttered to himself, nodding in approval. As he approached the front desk, the receptionist gave him a nervous smile.

"Mr. Trump, welcome. We have your penthouse ready for you," she said, handing him the key card.

"Good. I need some rest," he replied, taking the card and heading to the elevator.

Just as the doors were closing, a familiar voice echoed through the lobby. "Hold the elevator!" Joe Biden, carrying a small suitcase and looking equally exhausted, rushed in, slipping through the doors just in time.

Trump and Biden locked eyes, both too stunned to speak at first. The silence was thick with tension as the elevator ascended.

"What are you doing here, Joe?" Trump finally broke the silence, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"I could ask you the same thing, Donald," Biden shot back, his eyes narrowing. "I'm here to get some peace and quiet."

"Funny, I had the same idea," Trump said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Guess great minds think alike."

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the penthouse floor. They stepped out, each assuming they would be parting ways. But as they reached the door, it quickly became apparent that there had been a mix-up.

Trump slid his key card into the slot, but Biden did the same simultaneously. The door beeped and unlocked, swinging open to reveal the opulent interior.

"Wait a minute," Trump said, confusion etched on his face. "This is my place."

"No, it's mine," Biden countered, holding up his key card. "There's been a mistake."

Trump's face reddened. "You're telling me I have to share this place with him?" he barked.

The manager nodded apologetically. "I'm afraid so. At least until we can sort this out. It might take a few weeks."

Trump turned to Biden, his eyes blazing. "No way am I sharing with you. I'll find somewhere else."

The manager sighed, shaking his head. "Mr. Trump, there really is nowhere else available at the moment."

Trump crossed his arms, glaring at Biden. "Fine. But I get the master bedroom."

"Like hell you do," Biden shot back. "You think you can just waltz in and take whatever you want? Not happening."

Trump stepped closer, his height giving him an intimidating presence. "I was here first, Joe. You can have one of the guest rooms."

In the heat of their argument, Trump, standing at 6'3", stepped closer to Biden. He looked into Biden's surprisingly big ocean blue eyes, noticing a depth and intensity he hadn't expected. The dim lighting of the penthouse accentuated the vibrant hue, making them appear even more striking against Biden's furrowed brow.

Biden, at 6 feet tall, also closed the gap, their breaths so close they could feel the warmth of each other's exhales. He looked up into Trump's greyish blue eyes, a nervous stutter escaping his lips. The cool tone of Trump's gaze held a mixture of defiance and intrigue, challenging Biden in a way that stirred unexpected feelings within him.

Biden stood his ground. "How about we flip for it?"

Trump sneered. "A coin toss? Really? You think I'm going to leave it to chance?"

"Scared you'll lose?" Biden challenged, pulling a coin from his pocket.

Trump's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Flip the damn coin."

Biden flicked the coin into the air. They both watched as it spun and landed on the floor, heads up.

Biden smirked. "Master bedroom's mine."

Collecting themselves, they simultaneously stepped back from each other, breaking the intense connection. Trump cleared his throat gruffly, his usual bravado returning. "This isn't over," he stated firmly, though a hint of uncertainty lingered beneath his words.

Biden, composing himself with a deep breath, nodded curtly. "Fine. We'll see about that," he replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

With that, they turned away from each other, retreating to their respective rooms, each grappling with the unsettling realization of the spark that had ignited between them. As they lay in bed that night, their thoughts drifted back to the brief, charged moment in the hallway, their minds struggling to make sense of the unexpected attraction.

Trump scoffed at the idea. "As if," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "There's no way."

Biden, too, tried to brush off the unexpected attraction. "Ridiculous," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I won't let him get to me."

But as they lay in their respective beds that night, the memory of their confrontation lingered. Each found themselves thinking about the other in a way they hadn't expected, a simmering curiosity and a spark of something forbidden.

They tried to push the thoughts aside, but the undeniable chemistry between them refused to be ignored. This living arrangement was turning out to be far more complicated than either of them had anticipated.