While You Sleep

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StangStar06
StangStar06
5,804 Followers

I decided then to do whatever I could to get Rick back and make it up to him. None of it worked. He wouldn't speak to me unless it had something to do with Katrina. Rick filed for divorce and asked for joint custody. That was all he wanted. He agreed to split everything with me fifty/fifty and even pay me alimony for five years. He probably could have gotten away with two years.

I fought the divorce and counter sued and delayed because the thing I wanted the most was to have him back. Every time I tried to speak to him and he refused, I took it as an insult against me and tried to hurt him right back.

I already knew how to do that, it was simple. If I asked for a meeting or for him to come to dinner at the house and he begged off, I just had sex with someone in the neighborhood that knew him so it would get back to him. Over the first six months of our divorce it happened four or five times. I guess I wasn't smart enough to see the big picture. I didn't see that every time I did it, I became a bigger whore, and each time it hurt Rick less. It finally got to the point where he didn't care anymore.

The first year of our divorce saga ended with my lawyer forcing Rick into counseling. And of course, since he could only go when he was in town it took more than six months for the counseling. A round of arguments about the alimony and more out of town assignments ended the second year of our divorce drama. And then the bottom dropped out for me. Katrina came home all excited after a visit with her dad and told me about her new mommy. Rick had brought along a woman that he was dating on a trip to the zoo and I was devastated. It took weeks for me to actually get a glimpse of her.

She was everything that I never was, pretended to be or used to be. She was English so she had that accent that just sounded classy no matter what she was saying. She too had won several beauty contests back in her college days which weren't very long ago at that time and she still looked the part. In stark contrast to my short, dark hair, she had very long, very wavy, blond hair and bright blue eyes. When she got out of Rick's Mustang, I no longer wanted to meet her, I just wanted to stare at her. I wanted to twist her fucking head off and kill her but more than that, I wanted to be her. She was so pretty that it hurt my eyes to look at her. Shit, I wanted to be her so that my husband would love me again. She waited by the car while Rick came to the door to get Katrina.

After that, I knew that he'd be gone soon. I made my demands in the divorce more outrageous to try to hold onto him. At the same time, I met Donnie and started dating him. I don't love Donnie but I need him. Donnie's family is rich. If Rick manages to divorce me, I'll need Donnie. The next few times that Rick picked Katrina up, I made sure to mention Donnie and apparently Rick never even noticed.

I finally realized what a fool I'd been when I mentioned to Rick that since we were both in relationships maybe we should double date. He and his English friend and Donnie and I could all go out together. That was when I proved how big a fool I am.

"Are you happy with Donnie?" he asked.

"Oh yes," I gushed, trying to twist the knife. "He makes me feel more loved than any man I've ever known. And it's the best sex I've ever had." He winced a bit but he smiled.

"I'm glad you're happy," he said. "I've always wanted you to be happy throughout all of this. Maybe we can get this divorce handled now so you can marry him."

"Are you happy with Anne?" I asked. I was so shocked by his words that I could barely think. He'd said he wanted me to be happy and he hadn't been lying or sarcastic. He meant it.

"Why would I be happy with Anne?" he asked. He was truly confused. "We're not together. She's just a person I work with. Our allies often send their agents here to train. I was her training officer so there were times when I'd ask her along to go to the zoo or something just to be polite. There's no way I'd ever enter into a relationship with anyone when I'm not divorced from you yet, Danielle. I thought you knew me better than that."

He looked at me curiously. "Did you really think that I was that kind of person?" he asked. As he walked away with Katrina I ran up to my room and cried again. It seemed like all of my schemes and plans to try to hurt him only ever hurt me. And when all the water was boiled out of the pot, I never really wanted to hurt him in the first place. I just wanted him back.

"Water," the gurgled words sounded awful but they drew me out of my thoughts. I looked down at Donnie's flabby, obscene, naked body where he lay curled up on the floor. I got up and got him a cup of water. He sipped it and winced as it went down his throat painfully.

He tested his voice and was able to talk again albeit painfully.

"I need...doctor," he said. "My balls hurt bad. I can't walk. My foot hurts really bad too."

I snickered.

"What's so God damned funny?" he asked.

"Before we got married, Rick used to play football. I think he was playing with you. Get it, foot and balls; football."

"I should have kicked his little ass," growled Donnie. "The next time I see that asshole."

"Donnie, please," I said. "Quit while you're behind. You tried to kick his ass and he played with you. You're bigger than he is and you weigh more. You were the one who jumped at him first and you had three of your friends here. The easiest thing for him to have done would have been to have shot you. He could have gotten away with it too. You attacked a federal agent. If he had shot you, they'd have thrown your ass in jail as soon as you recovered from the surgery. But don't worry about it, baby. You won. You tried to fight for your woman. You have me and if it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure he scuffed the shit out of his shoes when he kicked you in the balls."

* * * * * *

Rick

I got to the federal building downtown and parked my Mustang in the underground parking structure. I grabbed one of our shuttles that took me to the airport. I showed my badge and credentials and was on the plane with twenty minutes to spare.

The flight to DC was uneventful. I slept through most of it. I had no idea where my assignment would take me or how long I'd be away for. The one good thing about my separation and pending divorce was that I could freely concentrate on my career. I could accept any kind of assignment anywhere in the world because there was no longer anything to hold me back.

My boss, Jeremy Clarkson and another agent James May were waiting for me as I deplaned. Jeremy was smiling at me, which either meant he had some very good news for me or very bad news and he was glad that I had to do it and not him.

"Guess where, you're going?" he said as soon as we were in the car.

"Iraq?" I asked.

"Wrong area," he said.

"Canada?" I asked.

"Pacmanistan," he said.

"Oh shit," I said. "Isn't that the place where all of the sewers in Russian, Poland and Slovakia empty?"

He just nodded his head. "But at least you'll be there doing your dream job." He beamed.

"I'm going to be protecting the president?" I gushed.

"Not exactly," he said. "But it's something like that."

By that time, we were at the White House. Once inside, we went into a briefing room and the team consisting of ten agents; eight men and two women sat waiting to be briefed for their assignment. Jeremy went up to the podium and the First Lady walked into the room. She smiled at me and I immediately stood up. "Mrs. Cameron," I said respectfully.

"Jeezus, Rick," she said, her soft southern drawl more pronounced away from the cameras.

"There's no need ta' be so formal. There aren't any reporters here. But I appreciate it just the same." She patted me on the shoulder and went up to speak to Jeremy.

He nodded several times and then shuffled his papers and started talking.

"Let's get this briefing started," he began. He pointed to the screen behind him and a map appeared there.

"This is the sovereign nation of Pacmanistan," he said. He started talking about the region and its three major cities. He also talked about the border it shared with several Eastern European countries.

"You will be in Pacmanistan for three days," he said. "Your job is to protect..."

"The president," gushed one of the older agents.

"Uhm...no," said Jeremy.

"The vice president," yelled another who was slightly less enthusiastic.

"No..." said Jeremy.

"The Secretary of Sate?" asked another agent.

"Nope..." said Jeremy.

"The First Lady?" asked one of the female agents.

"Uhm not exactly..."said Jeremy.

"Then who?" asked one of the agents in frustration. I think that we were all equally disappointed. As I looked around the room, I noticed that the demeanor of the agents present had changed since Jeremy stood up to begin the briefing. Most of the agents here were professionals. They would do the job they were assigned and would do it to the best of their abilities. But most of us were a little bit disappointed.

The room contained a mixture of agents with varying degrees of age and experience. Some were on their way up. Some of them, including myself, had never been on a protection detail before. Others had formerly been assigned to protect either the president or some other person. For some of them, they'd believed that they were taking another step upwards. Others realized that they were now taking a step in the other direction.

"You'll be assigned to protect Millicent Cameron," said Jeremy in a barely audible voice.

"Oh fuck, not Millie the Model," gushed one agent.

The change in Jeremy was instantaneous. His eyes snapped up and he addressed the guy who'd said it.

"Mr. Carlisle, you're off of the assignment," he snapped. "In fact, you're suspended."

Carlisle grabbed his brief case and stood up taking his belongings with him. He grumbled under his breath about how he'd rather be suspended.

"Is there anyone else here who'd rather not be on this assignment?" Jeremy asked. "Does anyone have anything they'd like to say or to get off of their chest before we resume?" No one said a word, so I raised my hand. Jeremy was clearly shocked.

"Yes Mr. Hammond," he said in syllables so crisp I thought they'd break.

"I'm honored to be assigned to protect Miss Cameron," I said. "But the assignment was supposedly designed for ten agents. My concern is for her safety. Will Agent Carlisle be replaced?"

Jeremy smiled and nodded his head. The First Lady also smiled.

"My assistant, Agent May, who is already present will go with you. He'll act as senior agent. Now let's get into the meat of the assignment."

Over the next half hour Jeremy gave us all kinds of facts about Pacmanistan and its culture. The religion in Pacmanistan was an extremely radical version of fundamentalist Christian beliefs. Their doctrine wasn't too far removed from the early Mormons or Jim Jones.

They believed a man could have multiple wives as long as he could comfortably support them. And, as in a lot of countries, men held all of the power. There were certain things that women simply couldn't do in Pacmanistan. Our female agents had to make sure that they never went out in public without a male escort. Any unescorted woman could be claimed by a man and that included foreigners. It would be up to the woman's family to arrange for her return if she was unmarried and for her husband to see to her return and punishment if she was married.

A married woman who was taken would have to prove that she was married or she could be claimed and used by the man who'd taken her. Many women who were taken were simply left by their husbands. No one wanted a woman who had been sullied back. Many of these women were simply thrown out into the streets later and had to try to make it on their own in a society where women didn't hold very much value.

"Why the hell are we going there?" asked an agent. "It seems like something out of the middle ages."

"Like most of the states in that region, the US has a very tenuous relationship with Pacmanistan. Unlike some of the other countries in the area, Pacmanistan allies more closely with the North Koreans and the Chinese than the Russians. Pacmanistan is the only manufacturer of a special type of portable power source that we're interested in..."

"I've heard of those," said one agent. "They call them power pellets, right?"

"Yes," said Jeremy. "At any rate, having an exchange of visits with Pacmanistan would do a lot to stabilize our relationship with them and as it so happens, Millicent Cameron's college roommate was a princess from the royal family in Pacmanistan. She invited Miss Cameron for a three day visit to attend one of their festivals."

We were given a few hours to prepare and told to meet back at the White House for the motorcade to the airport.

As I left the room and headed down the hall, I was stopped by the head of White House security. He ushered me towards the Oval Office and I was nervous. As far as I knew, the room should have been empty. This president only used the big office for official meetings and press conferences. He preferred smaller, less ostentatious rooms for day to day work. The agencies generally called it the "Offal Office," because whenever an agent was called there it was because he'd fucked up. The guys who'd fucked up during the Obama presidency were fired from that room. I was really nervous to be heading there. Just as we got to the room, the door opened and agent Carlisle walked out with a pissed off expression on his face. "Whatever happened to, "Free speech?" he muttered loudly.

A few minutes later, the Director of the Secret Service came out and held the door for me. He smiled at me and nodded his head. I figured he'd probably done that before talking to Carlisle as well.

That was the way things like that were done in DC. No one fired you anymore. You didn't get shit canned or terminated or laid off. What they did now was emotionless except for those God damned smiles.

They'd just smile at you and then tell you something like, "They'd recognized that you had qualities that were simply not being used in your current employment scheme. They hated to have you waste your potential and not doing all that you could be doing. Unfortunately, there was nowhere in their organization that you could utilize all of that potential so rather than hold you back any longer, they'd decided to release you so that you could reach your full potential."

They actually had the stones to smile at you while they did it too. They actually pretended that they were giving you the greatest opportunity in the world. But everyone knew that all of DC was one big club. If you were let go from one area of the club, the chances of you getting another chance in another were very God damned slim. I was actually trying to decide on whether I should try my hand at private security or use up my savings and go back to finish law school, when I noticed that HE was in the office with me.

I was standing in front of Alan Cameron the president of the God damned, United States of America.

"Rick, I was watching the briefing," he said. "You saved the meeting. You displayed the attitude and professionalism that we expect from the Secret Service. You turned the tide of what could have turned really bad. You're on your way up, son. So I need to ask a favor of you. I know this isn't dangerous assignment and you really should be doing something more important. I'll make sure that from now on you do too. But this time I want you to look out for my little girl. I know that she's wild and more than a little crazy. When she sets her mind to something, there's just no stopping her. But her mother was like that when we were young and she grew into a great lady. So Rick, you protect my little girl. Bring her back safe."

"Yes sir," I said. He reached out and just as his wife had done an hour before, he patted me on the shoulder.

Once we got onto the plane, I settled down for some alone time. There was very little chance of an incident happening on the plane. Millicent was surrounded by her personal secretary and both of the female agents who would be with her during the trip. I was invited to play cards by some of the agents on the plane that I'd worked with before but declined. I just needed some time to myself to think about what had just happened and how to get my divorce back on track.

I knew a little bit about Danielle's childhood and the way she grew up. We'd talked at length about the kind of marriage she wanted and she'd been very insistent on the parts about us being true to each other. I wondered what the hell had happened to that woman and how she became the raving slut that I was trying to get away from. I pulled out my notebook and tried to write. My notebook wasn't really a journal or a diary or anything like that. It was just a series of observations and poems I wrote that helped me to make sense of things.

At the end of each year and sometimes when I was stressed, I'd look back over my thoughts and think about how I'd felt and what was going on when I read them. The poems were sometimes pretty good, at least I thought so.

At that time, I just couldn't come up with anything. No poems or even words sprang to mind. I felt like I was in the middle of a jungle with danger all around me. I had to be very careful where I stepped because any wrong step could end up in disaster.

At the same time, although there was danger all around me, I felt alone. I felt like the only person I had in my life was my eight year old daughter and if I wasn't careful I could lose her too. I put the notebook back in my pocket and tried to grab some sleep. I had no idea how much sleep I'd get over the next few days so grabbing some while the opportunity presented itself seemed smart.

Before I closed my eyes, I scanned the plane and saw Millicent. She seemed to be happily chatting away with the other ladies. She didn't seem to have a care in the world. That meant that I was actually doing my job. I drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * *

Millicent

As the plane flew towards our destination my heart was light. Actually, my old roommate, Polly's, invitation had come at just the right time. The idiot I'd been dating had been starting to put pressure on me to sleep with him and I wasn't feeling it. Derek Christian seemed to be like the other men I'd dated over the years.

They were all reasonably good looking. They all came from the right families and had the right amount of money and political standing. When I dated them, we looked good together and made it onto the right magazine covers and went to all of the right parties and events. Everything was just too fucking right.

I felt more like a prized racehorse than a woman. I had, of course, scandalized the country several times by wearing a skirt or two that the magazines and reporters thought seemed too short or too tight for the daughter of a well to do family to wear, much less the daughter of the president.

I had also supported several causes and done things that simply didn't fit in with my father's political party's views or my father's views. Things like that made the headlines far more than any stylistic faux pas ever would.

I knew what they thought of me. I also knew what they called me. "Millie the Model." and "The first family freak," were some of them that I didn't mind. The funny part was although I was supposed to be a wild party girl, at twenty six years old I'd only slept with two men in my entire life.

A lot of my press was simply based on the reporters projecting their fantasies of what they thought I'd be like, on me. If I went to a party in California and there was a suspicion of someone doing drugs there, it was automatically assumed that I'd been one of the people there who partook in the drugs. The reality was that I'd never done drugs of any kind.

StangStar06
StangStar06
5,804 Followers