First Meeting

Katarina’s POV

After they gave me last-minute instructions, they told me to wait in this room.  

I looked around the elegant room - it was spacious, organized, but very manly. I decided that this room needs a feminine touch.

My gaze caught the presidential seal on the wall and then at the picture of President Regor Aldeguer on one side. I went to it and studied the man thoughtfully.

And then I remembered my orders. The political party wanted me to provide a stable life for the President, one that would erase his playboy image.

I had to create a homey air around him to suggest that he was done playing the field and is ready to settle down. And then they are going to get the best candidate for his wife.  

The order made me edgy. From what I heard, the President is strong-willed and has a mind of his own. He may be quiet, but he does things even amid opposition.

How can the party think they can dictate to him? That he will dance to their tune?  

Besides, what forty-year-old virile, attractive, and powerful man needs me for? He could get the best girl there is if he wants to.  

Still, I have to do it. It is part of our agreement when I signed on for this job. 

The party gave me a list of their potential candidates. I staggered to see the country's whos-who included in the said list. Some of the women from influential clans - engaged in worthy causes, businesswomen and heiresses to multinational corporations or landowners.  There was also a Miss Universe pageant runner up, a Miss World titleholder, an international stage actress, and an international human rights lawyer. I was awed when I read the list and saw their photos. 

They were stunning in looks and in what they did. It thrilled me that I would be hob-knobbing with these extraordinary women. But in the back of my head, I envy them - they were able to do the things they wanted to do and excel in it.  

The sound of someone clearing his throat startled me from my musings.

I turned around, and the impassive face of the President himself greeted me.

“His Excellency, Mr. President.” I acknowledged and bowed slightly in his presence.

“Good morning, Ms. Dimalanta.” He greeted in a voice cold and deep. It sent shivers up my spine.

I suddenly felt nervous. I bit my lip lightly in an attempt to collect my thoughts. When I looked up, I saw the President looking at me intently. His eyes focused on my lips. My breath hitched in sudden awareness. I felt the air around us grew heavy.  

It felt awkward. I wanted to become invisible that instant.

‘Ahem, I am pleased to meet you, sir.” I said to break the silence, offering him my hand for a handshake. When he took it, something hot inside me sizzled. I could not explain it. It was like all my nerve-endings become heightened when our skin touched.

“Same here.” He said before he let go of my hands. I looked at my hand and acknowledged an inexplicable feeling of aloneness before I followed him to one of the settees that adorned one side of his office.

I settled on one before the President occupied the chair opposite and faced me.  

He did not say a thing. He just looked at me. I squirmed in my seat like a specimen under the lens of a microscope. I suddenly felt self-conscious. No one has ever made me this inhibited as though he could see through me.  

His was not a malicious stare, and yet it unnerved me in ways I cannot explain.  

I do not like the feeling at all.

“Yes?” He inquired after some time.

Startled, I looked up at him and saw him waiting for me. I frowned.  

“You shook your head, I wonder why?’ He said and I felt heat creeping to my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Your Excellency, Mr. President, sir! I was just thinking.” I hedged

“It doesn’t seem to be a kind or happy thought or, you wouldn’t shake your head like that,” He made the observation which embarrassed me further, I would like to sink through my seat and be swallowed whole.

We were silent for a while. I wanted to fidget in my set. I gripped my hands in tension as I waited for him to say something. Still, the brute let me toast for a while. Agonized, I looked at him, holding my breath in anticipation. My chest contracted when at last, he spoke.

“So I want to know who Katarina Dimalanta is. I want to know something about you that your CV and personal brief would not tell me.” His voice held authority coupled with an interest.

I exhaled loudly.  

The President smiled a little. It warmed me up a bit. I felt some vestige of tension left my body. The reprieve gave me the confidence to just hit it. And I did! I started telling the President about my two wonderful teenage kids. I told him about the things I like and dislike. What I would usually do on a weekday, how I spend my weekends. 

He was an attentive listener.  

He asked me about my first marriage. I felt awkward at first, but he had this way of drawing out people. In no time at all, I found myself telling him about my first husband Wendell - how we were not able to keep up with the demands of married life given our young age. And how we ended up with divorce.

And then I told him about Lester, my second husband. How we lost him and how we cope up after. 

When our meeting concluded that morning, I did not realize that I monopolized our time talking about my personal life. The President did not complain when I apologized.  

When I left his office, I felt excited for the coming days. I think it would not be too hard to work for the President.

Now, I know why certain women go gaga over him.

The President exuded an aura of masculinity that women find irresistible, including me. He has this air around him that commands respect, but he never once brandished his power.

In the course of our meeting, he let me dominate the conversation. He listened. What a rare commodity in a man!

I went out of the palace with light steps. I’m sure the President and I will get along well.

Regor’s POV

“How did it go?”

Gino met me at my quarters after Ms. Dimalanta left for the day.

I went to my ref to get us both a beer in a can, handed him one, pulled the tab on the other, and took a swig before I answered.

“Let’s just see how it goes tomorrow,” I said, referring to Mrs. Dimalanta’s formal assumption into the office tomorrow.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she? And very classy?”

“I don’t know,” I growled. I do not understand why I suddenly felt reluctant to talk about her. In the past, I was always ready to speak my mind with Gino. But not this time.  

I find the idea of other men noticing how attractive she is distasteful. It does not make sense.

“Hey, don’t you think she’s stunning? Impossible.” Gino insisted. A surprised look on his face.

A picture of Ms. Dimalanta in her conservative skirt suit paired with a nicely fitted white shirt crossed my mind. It showed off her shapely legs accentuated by a pair of platform high heeled pumps, her translucent face glowing as she spoke. 

She had her hair pulled up in a bun. How I itched to let that hair loose from its confines and run my fingers to it.

And then another image replaced it. It was an image of long shapely legs tightly wrapped around my hips while Ms. Dimalanta's hands ran up and down my bareback.

My nostrils flared in sudden awareness.  

“And what do her looks have to do with her job?” My voice sounded hard even to my ears. Remembering it was Gino, my best friend who I was talking to, I turned to the beer in my hand and finished it off while he pinned me with his prying stare.

As much as I would like to counter that look, I can’t. Besides, I do not understand how I feel. It is becoming ridiculous. I think I need to find a woman to warm my bed. 

Fast! 

I have been too sex-starved that the mere thought of my new assistant makes me hard in certain places.