oh, mr president | H.S.

THIRTY: Jet Power

"It takes a great man to be a good listener." Calvin Coolidge

_________________

T H I R T Y : Jet Power

        "Sir, would you like anything else?" The flight attendant, Ramona, casually blended over to advertise that she was physically available to the president, but he hadn't associated himself with another woman since he was a thing with Ophelia. She was the only thing that made him think as hard as he was, accepting any mind-blowing decisions he hadn't considered. Not for a few years, at least.

        He could sense that Ramona was waiting for his response, and when he darted his eyes to see her, the perkiness of her breasts were directly in his face. "Ramona, what the hell?" He swatted them away, resisting any invitation she was indirectly giving him to a party he never wants to go to. "Get off of me before I fire you!"

        Ramona was not use to this. The last time she had a shift on Air Force One, he was begging for their sexual encounter to finally happen. She once imagined the stories she'd brag to her friends about mingling with the president, now, all she could see was his unbreakable stare that surely meant she would be fired. She backed away from his relaxing position in the chair when he turned his head to see the fluffiness of the clouds.

        "Just get me a beer," He ordered to a fleeting Ramona, consciously thinking about his girlfriend. She hung up on him without his consent, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't stay in Washington with the condition of his relationship that was an easy two hours away. He wanted to fix whatever mess they were in, before that chump Ryan starts interfering with their personal lives.

        Air Force One was in the sky for almost an hour, and Harry couldn't be more impatient. He couldn't text her to see if she was still angry; her phone went straight to voicemail, and the Refuge's office doesn't answer personal calls after a certain time. For now, the impatience was gnawing at him.

A baby, a baby with Ophelia. He had proposed it in a joke, but he didn't think she would start to think of children at her young age. Twenty four isn't exactly young, but he figured she would want to party or something first before settling down with him. His age begged him to answer the question about his readiness for children before he grows into gray hair, and he's yelling at the wall after losing his mind. He loved Ophelia, and that is what should matter.

Sleep got the best of him on the flight, and when Ramona lightly shook the president's shoulder, he woke from his perfect doze of slumber to see them landing. He yawned with his mouth wide, and eyes watering up. He was told to buckle his seatbelt for the bumpy landing, to the nearest airport from The Refuge. They touched down on the pavement, and was brought to a secure vehicle from Harry's last venture down here.

The wheels of the presidential Escalade swirled the gravel of The Refuge's parking lot. It parked in the rear for the secret service to empty, and surround every entrance. Harry marched up the stairs in his loafers, knocking gently on the door for someone to answer.

To his luck, Carrie, the director of The Refuge, was in the back of the front office filling out paperwork for one of their clients. She heard the knocking, raising her button of top security measures if anything was crazy. Her eyes peeked out the peephole, seeing the president of the United States. She nearly blew her top! The door swung open, laughing awkwardly at his appearance. "Mr. President! It is an honor and privilege to be in your presence. Is there something wrong?"