Insatiable Lust

X

It's a little funny that Kamala and I end up sleeping in the same bed. I mean, I call her out for the second time last night and then we went back to the hotel where we silently got ready for bed; we avoided each other only to end up on the same bed as if there isn't unspoken words hanging in the air.

The morning starts off the same exact way it's been starting since my initial call out. She's no longer just Kamala to me, it's only Madame Vice President now. And just like how the plane ride from Raleigh to Atlanta was, she decides to sit with me on Air Force Two. This time, she picks the seat in front of me, but I never look up at her once while the aircraft takes us from Atlanta to San Francisco.

However, I was a little too slow getting off of the plane because I didn't get to the other SUVs in time, meaning that I'll have to catch a ride with Kamala to the hotel. I don't say anything as she gets in, but she notices the slightly annoyed look on my face.

"Stop being childish, Celine." she damn near hisses at me after putting the partition up. I look at her gobsmacked, because she has the audacity to call me childish after she's the one who isn't saying anything.

"I'm the childish one?" I ask with a chuckle, "You're the one who won't even talk about her fucking feelings, Kamala-- so don't come at me with that shit and say that I'm being childish."

"It's not that easy-- Celine, I-"

"'Not that easy'? Please— humor me, Madame Vice President." I spit out before I put the partition back down.

My phone buzzes on my lap, making me look at my screen while Kamala tries to find the words she wants to say. A number I don't have saved sends a picture with a text saying, "Back off, she's mine". I unlock my phone with my thumbs frantically flying across the screen as I go to my messages, clicking on the contact only to find a picture of a woman taking a picture with Kamala. Both are under bedsheets, presumably naked, but Kamala looks like she's asleep, meaning she probably doesn't even know that this picture exists.

I tap out of the messages with the number, immediately locking my phone as I look out of the window. So not only did Kamala fuck the same woman as me, she's been fucking some other woman? Oh! And the second woman knows about Kamala and I. At least I know that Gretchen won't talk about how she fucked the Vice President or that she fucked a former intern of Governor Newsom's who is now one of the Vice President's current staffers; I don't even know if this random woman will warn the masses of Kamala's lesbian affairs.

Even though he's in the car, I text Lewis a cropped version of what was sent to me, asking the identity of who the woman is. He looks at back at me with a shocked look that does not ease the growing rage brewing within me. My phone buzzes for his response:

Naomi Craig. She was a staffer of MVP up until last year.

Oh, so the woman that I've fallen for just likes to fuck any woman, especially her own employees. Okay!

"What's wrong?" Kamala's voice says as I'm staring blankly at my phone.

"I'll tell you at the hotel." my words coming out a bit harsh, causing silence from the both of us.

We get to the hotel, going straight to the suite and I purposely wait until our luggages arrive so I know we wouldn't be interrupted. I pace around the main area of the suite, my arms crossed tightly against my chest as pure rage and disappointment charges every atom of my being. The door clicks as it closes as Kamala walks up to me, looking at me to see why I look even more pissed off.

"What happened?" she asks bluntly, putting her hands on her hips.

"I need you answer this question-- just a simple yes or no." I let out, my eyes glued on hers as she nods, "From the day we first had sex up until now, did you have any intimate relations with another woman?"