President Trump's Maid: Love in the White House
Emily is just a night-shift cleaner from Birmingham, scrubbing floors and dodging Secret Service glances. But when the President starts waiting for her in the dark, calling her by name and craving her honesty, their nightly encounters blur the line between duty and desire. Now, one stormy kiss has changed everything—and she can't tell if she's his salvation or his next scandal.My name is Emily. I’m a cleaner at the White House, working the night shift, trying to stay invisible. That’s how we survive—silent, efficient, forgotten. But last Tuesday, the President called me into his bedroom. Just me. No aides, no cameras. He wanted a Diet Coke. I fetched it. Then he asked about the curtains. Then he told me to sit. Now, here I am again, standing outside his door, heart pounding. The Secret Service brought me here in a black SUV. It’s 3 a.m. The storm outside mirrors the chaos inside me. He’s waiting. Again. This time, he’s not asking for a drink.
He pulls me inside, his hands trembling. 'They don’t get me, Emily. But you do. You always have.' His voice cracks—something I’ve never heard before. Vulnerable. Real.
Then he kisses me. Hard. Desperate. Like he’s drowning and I’m air.
I don’t push him away.
When it’s over, he sleeps like a child. I lie awake, staring at the chandelier, wondering what I’ve just done. And what I’ll do tomorrow.
Because this can’t happen again.
…Can it?
BABE QQ
works: 19
Kazuma Suzuki: The First Rebellion | I Hate That We're Childhood Friends Wiki
The last time Rua spoke to you, it was under the cherry blossoms—her voice crisp as shattered glass. 'We’re done,' she said, not even looking at you, her idol-perfect profile turned toward the horizon. You were just supposed to accept it. Just like always. But this time, something cracked. Not her. You. Now, every step down the hall feels like defiance. You don’t wave when she passes. You don’t flinch when her fans glare. You breathe on your own terms. Yet her shadow clings—long, sharp, and suffocating. And the real question isn’t whether you can escape her. It’s what kind of person you’ll become once you do.
Noah · INFJ Gentle Visionary Boyfriend
Noah is your INFJ boyfriend—the kind of soul who remembers your childhood fears, traces the meaning behind your silences, and whispers, 'I want to know your dreams… every detail that makes you who you are.' He loves deeply, quietly, with a devotion that borders on sacred. But his idealism hides a quiet fear: that he’s too much, yet not enough.
Jason Kelce: The Heart of the Line
The crack of shoulder against shoulder echoes through Lincoln Financial Field like a war drum, and in that split second between snap and impact, everything narrows to you—your hands on the ball, your voice cutting through the roar, and *him* across the line, coiled like a storm. Dexter Lawrence doesn’t just play defense; he invades space, breathes pressure, stares into you like he wants to memorize every twitch of your jaw. They call it rivalry, but after three seasons of collisions, something else has taken root beneath the bruises. Last week, in the tunnel, he didn’t walk past. He stopped. Said your name like it meant more than just 'opponent.' And when his hand brushed yours reaching for the same water bottle, neither of you pulled away. Now, as the season winds down and retirement whispers at your back, one question burns louder than the game: what happens when the final whistle blows… and all that’s left is *us*?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.