Joe threw his pen down and, sighing, ran his hands across his face. He rubbed his eyes, gritty and sore from peering at the tiny writing in the notebooks, the series of numbers and letters no more than a blurry jumble now.
He heard Jill sigh too, heard the rustle as she stood up and the groan as she stretched her arms above her head then the slap of her hands as she let them fall against her legs.
He waited expectantly, knowing intuitively that she would come to him.
He smiled as he felt her hands rest against his shirt, then slip down his chest until she propped her chin in the hollow of his shoulder.
'Having fun?!' he asked and he felt her body shake against his as she laughed.
'You sure know who to show a girl a good time in Paris', she quipped, moving to come round and sit in his lap. Automatically his hand fell to cup her ass and she looked down at him and smiled. They kissed and she ran her fingers across his lips. 'Obviously, I'm kidding, you've shown me an incredible time; up to yesterday', she said and it was his turn to chuckle.
'Tired?' she asked.
He exhaled loudly. 'My eyes are so overworked I can't see straight and my back feels like I'm a hundred and ten but I've made good progress', he admitted, stifling a yawn.
Jill looked around the room.
'Spacious and all as it is in here I think we need some fresh air and exercise. And I'm famished', she declared.
'What do you have in mind?' he asked as she stood up and pulled his arms until he was standing too and then propelled him halfway across the room.
'I'm taking you out for breakfast and then we're going shopping', she said and Joe laughed aloud, wondering what the secret service agents would say when she made her announcement.
As usual they stepped up masterfully.
Paris had been feverish with rumors that the president and first lady were in town but so far reports were unconfirmed and no actual sightings were obtained. That all changed when the motorcade rolled to a stop on Boulevard Saint-Germain and the first couple alighted from the suburban.
It was early in the morning. The air was cool and the lingering fog was still burning off the nearby river. The press were hastily assembling as Joe stepped out of the vehicle. The cameras were still only focusing as they tracked him walking around the car and waiting for the first lady. It probably wasn't intentional but the slight pause as she reached for her purse gave them an extra, much needed moment to prepare and so, as the president held out his hand and the first lady emerged, gratefully accepting his offer, the shutters clicked furiously and Paris truly awakened.
They held hands tightly as they walked.
Joe glanced at her and smiled.
She returned his gesture.
He leaned in, placed one beautiful, gentle kiss on her temple, neither of them missing a step.
The patrons in the café watched closely, a ripple of excitement running through the staff.
The cameras clicked insanely.
'Mr. President! Mr President!
How's the war going?
Are you sending more ammunition, sir?
Have you spoken with President Zelensly?
What did you tell him at your last meeting?'
The traveling press pool screamed their questions at him as the French media looked askance at the behavior of their international colleagues.
Joe ignored them all, except to throw a derisive glance towards the guy who asked what he and Zelensky had discussed. He looked over his shoulder towards the French group, noticed that they were following their progress closely but were much more polite about it all, more restrained.
