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    Story written on September 24, 2022 by UKendeavour.
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    Number of Comments: 4
    Words: 1907
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=113676
    Author Notes:

    The White House The Oval Office 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington DC District Of Columbia USA   Bette was tapping her pen on her temple as she read the letter that was to be sent to the Prime Minster of New Zealand, she was going over the wording and ensuring that it came across as

    The White House

    The Oval Office

    1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW,

    Washington DC

    District Of Columbia

    USA

     

    Bette was tapping her pen on her temple as she read the letter that was to be sent to the Prime Minster of New Zealand, she was going over the wording and ensuring that it came across as supportive and not combative. The last thing she needed was to fall out with New Zealand as they were trying to build a trade route to the country. There was a knock on the side door and her Chef of Staff Ben walked in,

    “Madam President,”

    “Hi Ben, how’s your day going?” Bette asked as she removed her glasses and sat back in her chair.

    “It’s a busy one,”

    “Any reasons,”

    “Two mainly,”

    “Go on,”

    “The Prison Reform Bill is nearly ready for you to approve,”

    “Agh a positive,”

    Ben smiled slightly. He was a dark haired man who was always well groomed and for some reason only ever wore three piece suits.

    “Very positive. The second not so much so,”

    “Something about me?” Bette asked, crossing her hands over her stomach,

    “Yes, something that rarely comes up,”

    “You mean it’s not that my late wife cheated on me with her Chef of Staff?” Bette raised an eyebrow, the gutter press were still bring this up a month after it had happened. a month, Bette couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed her face. A month since Tina had agreed to go steady with her and they were managing to keep their relationship a secret. Tina had spent every weekend with Bette and they spoke two or three times a day as well as texting, a lot.

    “Health concerns,” Ben said softly,

    “You mean because I’m still walking with a cane, won’t show my lower back or my legs in public a rumour has started that I’m dying,”

    “You could say that.”

    “You’ve got to be joking me,” Bette rubbed her forehead.

    “We were thinking a public appearance may help,”

    “I…” Bette still got nervous in large crowds and wouldn’t even go near a hotel lobby.

    “We were thinking your birthday, would be good for some positive publicity.”

    “You mean the West Wing would like to have good food, drink expensive booze and make speeches,” Bette replied.

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