Sean was already pissed. He’d only left the White House a 3 months – and he was being “escorted” to the Press office by an armed guard, wearing a “Visitor” pass, like he was on a goddamn tour or something
The officer, Trent, if he remembered his name right, lead him to his old office, a trip he didn’t need an escort for, and could have taken with his eyes closed.
“Right in here, sir”
“Thanks, Trent – is Anthony in there?”
“Troy, sir, and he’ll be here in just a moment”.
Shit – he knew it started with TR…. fuck it, he doesn’t work here anymore.
He let himself in, and was relieved the administration trusted him to sit in his old office alone without a guard, while he waited for “The Mooch” to be late to the meeting he had set up.
He looked around at the office. Of course, like the eternal 22 year old college football star he was to remain, The Mooch had placed bullshit inspirational posters up – “A journey of a mile begins with a single step”…. Jesus.
He was mid-eyeroll when there was a single knock on the door and the Mooch walked into the office.
If Spicer hadn’t turned around right away, he would have known it was the Mooch by his cheap smelling Aqua Di Gio, which Spicer would (rightfully guess), he had worn every day for the last 15 years or so.
“Sean! Have a seat!”
Sean sat down at the desk, facing his old seat.
Good God, stuffed in an office with him, he decided Mooch spritzed about 2 sprays too many of his cologne every morning. Or refreshed it too much during the day. It was borderline nauseating.
The Mooch sat down.
“I hope you don’t mind I changed up the office, I’m not one for the stuff the National Archive lets us borrow – I like the stuff we had up at my Wall Street office – keeps me -”
“Can we cut the bullshit? I don’t care what you did to the office, it’s not mine anymore.”
Anthony took a breath, both hands on the desk.
“Fair enough. Bad blood still, I’ve got it. If you want to cut to the chase -”
Another breath. Anthony wasn’t used to, or not comfortable, not being in charge of the conversation.
“You’ve got a book deal. That’s what this is about.”
“Yes, I have a book deal. Slated for late spring release, the publisher says lots of political books take off during the summer when people are reading more”.
“What are you planning to say?”
“I plan on talking about my time working for the President”
“Okay, now it’s my time to cut through the bullshit, Sean, is this “book” going to be a problem for the team? Is it going to embarrass the administration?”
“This “book” (Damn, he didn’t realize how cocky and angry he actually still was) is going to be a light biography, and some behind the scenes at my time at the White House, but no, if that’s what you’re getting at, it will be supportive of this administration. I’m not planning on writing some trash tell-all that disparages the White House. I still work for the RNC for Christ’s sake.”
“Good. good.” Scaramucci automatically looked about 10 times more relaxed. He leaned back in his (Sean’s) chair, and placed his hands behind his back.
“Is that what this was about? You bring me in here, past at least 10 reporters – MSNBC saw me walk back here, CNN too, WaPo… you brought me in here to make sure I wasn’t going to trash the President, and you risked a day of news stories and people hounding Sarah about “Why was Sean Spicer back at the White House”?”
“You want a cup of coffee, Sean?”
“No thanks – I’d like to keep this brief”
“Sean – we never got along, you quit because of me – I get all that shit. I’m a businessman, I don’t have time for feelings. I know you don’t like me. I’m trying to at least have a decent conversation with you.”
Sean’s phone buzzed in his blazer. He almost instinctively went to pull the phone out and check it, but he stopped himself, and stared back at the Mooch.
“We just wanted to make sure the book wasn’t going to put us on the defense for a month. One news cycle about you stopping in and saying hello to everyone is a fuck of a lot better than that.”
Anthony cursed like crazy. Sean swore, but not like The Mooch. It was at times irritating, especially when it wasn’t necessary in the conversation.
“Well, it’s not, so, if that’s all” Sean started to stand up.
Anthony stopped him by holding his palm up. “It’s not”
Sean sat back down.
“You see, we want to make sure, we want to ensure that we have a good relationship with you here, Sean, and that there’s no bad blood. We don’t want you to leave, and someday decide you’re going to change your mind about the time you had here, or the incredible honor the President gave you by letting you serve as Communications Director.”
“I don’t follow – I told you this book is fluff, stuff about my family, anecdotes from the campaign trail, the Melissa McCarthy stuff, nothing scandalous.”
“I see. I see.”. Anthony slid his chair back towards a book shelf, leaned back enough for his dress shirt to become untucked a little (nice abs, thought Sean), and pulled a classification folder from under a stack of newspapers.
“Certainly nothing about Brian…. um…. let me see here…. Rennolds! Brian Rennolds, then?”
Sean turned bright red. He also felt a little queazy.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Anthony?”
“You’re the one who wanted to make this meeting brief. ‘Cut the bullshit’, right? Brian Rennolds went to school with you, so-so grades, but you guys still email each other once in a while.” He flipped a few pages up, “I’m touching myself right now thinking about those Hanes you’d wear, with your name in sharpie on the back of -”
“Shut the fuck up, Anthony. Why are you – what is this – what -”
“Insurance, is what it is. The President wants to make sure that we all understand each other, and that we aren’t going to have any surprises.”
“Fuck you, Mooch”
Anthony let the pages flop back down, satisfied with himself, and his research staff. “I’m just doing my job – I’m protecting the President”.
“And you thought you’d have to blackmail me to do that. Brian’s got nothing to do with this – and fuck you for thinking you’d have to blackmail me.”
“Brian?!? Just Brian?!? Why, there’s the intern at the CHOB, Todds his name, we had to give him a promotion and move him to the White House just so he wouldn’t talk, there’s”
“Enough. Enough of this. I’m not going to say anything.”
Sean was a mix of dizzy and furious. If his wife, if anyone, Jesus he couldn’t even think.
“Good. Good. I’m not here to torture you, Sean, or out you to anyone. I just want to make sure – ”
“The President is protected. Got it.”
“You sure you don’t want any coffee, Sean?”. Anthony stood up, walked to the door, stuck his head out – “Bev, two coffees, 1 black, 1 two creams, 4 ice”.
He shut the door again.
“I never figured you for a faggot, Sean”
“Go to Hell, Mooch” At which Sean flipped him off.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, I’m not judging. I’ve got a cousin thats a queer. Hates the fucking President, won’t come to family dinners anymore – but good guy, good guy.
“Are we about done?!?!”
“We’ve got coffee coming! Are you a bottom, Sean? Even with 5 pretty fucking good researches, they still couldn’t come up with an answer to that”.
At that, Sean’s jaw dropped. What in the Hell was going on?
Bev rapped on the door twice, then came in with the coffees.
She sensed the tension in the room, avoided eye contact, sat the coffee’s down, then walked back out of the room
“You’re not going to say hello to Mr. Spicer?”
“My apologies – hello Mr. Spicer, good to see you again. I was in the DOJ when you were Communications Director, we spoke on the phone a few – ”
“That’ll be all Bev, thank you so much.” Mooch cut her off as he tasted his lukewarm, beige coffee.
Bev frowned, and shut the door a little too hard for Anthony’s liking on the way out.
“Is this meeting over?!?”
“Sean – you never answered my question – are you a bottom?”
“Yes” Sean answered without realizing why. The blackmail? The peak of the Mooch’s abs? The freedom knowing that at least 6 other people besides his lovers knew that Sean was queer?
“I figured” Anthony answered, leaning back in his chair. “The emails – they weren’t too scandalous, but I got the vibe you were a bottom.”
Anthony stayed leaned back in his chair, the bottom button on his tacky dress shirt still unbuttoned, exposing a little skin. Sean couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not, but it looked like the Mooch was at least half-hard.
“You didn’t warn me of the long hours, Sean. You didn’t give me a heads up on the demands of the job. I’m charging my iphone sometimes 4 times a day! The stress! The constant emails! I think I’ve been getting about 4 hours of sleep at night – 3 if I want to sneak downstairs to the White House gym”.
A little bit more relaxed, Sean picked up his coffee “It’s a tough job, Tony”.
As he sipped his coffee (a little too hot, he would have chosen ice cubes as well had he been given the opportunity to choose), he realized that’s the first time he’d called The Mooch Tony.
“No wonder you were getting fucked left and right in DC, and not just from the Administration. It’s a tough job, you’ve gotta find some way to get rid of the stress. Normally I just hit the weight bench.”
“Mhm” Sean said as he studied his coffee.
“I’ve never fucked a guy”. Anthony said, out of nowhere. “Sure, I’ve thought about it. Your wife sticks a finger up your ass, or after she’s popped out a kid, and she’s looser than normal, so you fuck her in the ass, and you think it can’t be much different with a guy – probably less nagging and bullshit too”.
Sean, head still reeling from this bizarre meeting, leaned over and sat his coffee cup down on the desk.
“What do you say, Sean? One more favor for this file to go into a burn bag. Your book gets the support of the White House, Sarah mentions it in a press briefing, the President mentions that he’s read it, although, let’s be honest, he doesn’t read anything longer than a tweet, and you let me try it?”
“Take your suit jacket off…. stand over there by those books.”
Sean was completely in a daze now, this was surreal. He must be dreaming, or having a nightmare or something. This fucked up meeting was far from what he imagined when he got the email about it yesterday during a commercial break on Fox and Friends.
He took off his jacket, as his phone buzzed again, and he stood over next to the Mooch’s bookshelf, which, of course, had dozens of the Mooch’s own book – the bastard must offer signed copies when he’s trying to impress people.
“Good. Good.” was what Sean heard Tony say as he heard him set down his coffee cup and stand up. He heard (and the smell of his cologne intensified), him walk over, and behind, him.
“Unbutton your pants. Slide your underwear down – don’t get naked or anything weird like that. Just put your ass out.”
Sean obliged, still in a complete daze.
The Mooch rubbed his hand up and down Sean’s ass, rubbing his cheeks, pulling a cheek up and letting it bounce back down.
“Nice. Real nice.”
Sean heard his zipper slide down. Felt the Mooch’s cock rubbing between Sean’s cheeks.
Anthony Scaramucci spit on his hand, rubbed his dick a few times, and then inserted it into Sean’s asshole.
Sean gasped as Anthony entered him fully, and grabbed both sides of the bookshelf. He noticed that, despite how bizarre this meeting was, he was fully erect too.
“Nice. Just like pussy” Anthony said, thrusting balls deep into Sean, pulling his cock almost all the way back out, and then fully entering again.
It didn’t take Sean long to orgasm, handless. A substantial amount of cum landed on a well-Post-It’d copy of the ‘7 Habits of Highly Successful People’, and Sean let out a moan quiet enough to not let anyone outside of the office hear.
The Mooch was soon after, and, in typical “bro” fashion, announced his approaching climax like he was someone late for an event: “I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Holy fuck I’m cumming!”.
The Mooch came while inside Sean, and used Sean’s hole to milk the rest of his cum out of his (pretty substantial sized) dick.
Sean stayed facing the bookshelf, satisfied, shocked, surprised. He stood there, limp cock hanging over his pants, his ass covered in Scaramucci’s cum still exposed, while he heard Anthony take a step back, pull his underwear and pants back up, zip up, and re-fasten his belt.
“Send me an email when your publisher has a date the books going to drop, and send me and POTUS an advanced copy so we can work some good things to say about it in the briefing”.
Evidently, the meeting was over.
The woman at the Macy’s counter was polite, but Sean was in no mood to deal with someone practically screaming “I WORK ON COMMISSION!”
“Are you sure this is what you want? Armani’s had a lot of new fragrances that have come out, that aren’t so, dated. I don’t mean that as an insult, sir, I just – this cologne has been out for quite a few years, and anyways, you look like a Gucci man, in my opinion. Did you want to try a few before you make the final decision?
“I’m quite certain this is the one I want. I’ll take the 10.1 oz bottle, and I’d like the aftershave too.”
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.