Freen's seen the sexy underwear. She's seen the sex toys. They're in love, Rebecca says.
She knows Rebecca must lust for her, even as she stays at the furthest end of the couch, the bed.
If Rebecca liked her enough to hold her hostage, she might as well use that to her advantage.
She pulls the nicer underwear buried in her drawer out. It takes her nearly ten minutes to finagle her cast through the satin panties and pull on the silk teddy.
She washes her teeth thoroughly, her hair, and sprays on some of the perfume she found in the drawer. She's sitting there waiting when Rebecca comes home, sat innocuously on the couch watching Netflix.
"Hey, babe," she says with a smile, pretending not to notice the way Rebecca freezes at the sight of her.
It's hard to pose sexy when your entire leg is encased in plaster, but she can still feel Rebecca's eyes darting frantically over her. She adjusts to stick her chest out, sees the way Rebecca's eyes snap there, then snap away.
"What's going on?" Rebecca asks, and looks around the apartment like there might be someone else lurking about.
As if Freen ever sees anyone but her.
"I just felt like doing something special," Freen says with what she hopes is a convincing smile. Based on the pained look Rebecca gives her back it's ineffective.
"Are you wearing perfume?" Rebecca asks. She sits as far away from Freen as she can on the couch. Freen shrugs.
"A little. Do you like it?"
She scoots closer, Rebecca shrinks back.
"You smell like my brother," Rebecca says in the strangest voice.
Not the reaction she was wanting, but fine. Freen scoots closer still, until their thighs are pressed together and Rebecca would have to fall off the coach to avoid her touch.
"I've been going a little stir crazy lately," she whispers, leaning in close. "And I miss you when you're gone all day."
"You do?" Rebecca whispers back in a tired sort of surprise. Freen nods, biting her lip purposefully and feeling a sense of both joy and trepidation at the way Rebecca's eyes drop to it.
"Yeah. I get lonely."
She traces her hand along Rebecca's trembling thigh, traces up her arm to the back of her neck. Rebecca's shaking, barely breathing, her eyes closed.
Freen thinks about how easy it could be to press on her throat. If she'd be strong enough.
She knows she wouldn't be.
"Let's go out," she whispers against Rebecca's ear, "maybe get dinner at a nice restaurant, see a movie. Get a hotel room."
Her fingertips creep along the neckline of Rebecca's shirt, dipping briefly in. "I bet I can make it worth your while."
Just like that Rebecca's pulling away with a jerk, face red and hands shaking, and she nearly falls to the floor in her haste to put space between her and Freen.
She sits there staring up at her with bewildered, horrified eyes. The green light flickers off. Then on, then off again.
Rebecca leaps to her feet in a huff and barks, "we're not going out, Freen. Stop asking."
She gets so angry and stomps away, and Freen can hear her slamming around in the kitchen. The light's back on. Freen starts to cry softly.
"Am I your prisoner here?" she whispers.
YOU ARE READING
Madam President
RomanceSecret service agent Freen Sarocha has been the head of Presidential Candidate Rebecca Armstrong's Secret Service detail for months, now. She has been there since Rebecca was nominated, and now she has been assigned to protect her for the next four...
