Seducing the President's Son Ch. 01

I quickly grabbed an hors-d'oeuvre from a passing waiter and shoved it in my mouth. I needed something to quell my nerves. I found another waiter carrying a tray with glasses of champagne. I helped myself to two glasses, draining one of them as I looked around the room nervously.

"Focus," I told myself. "You can do this. You're an actor, for Christ's sake."

That was when I spotted you.

It was almost impossible not to notice the two men in suits trailing a few feet behind you as you cut a swath through the room. But they were nothing compared to your presence.

The thing I noticed the most about you was your eyes. You had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen in a man. They were brimming with inner life, a self-assuredness that intimidated me even from all the way across the room. I also noticed that no matter who you were speaking to, you kept your eyes trained on them throughout the entire conversation.

That was one of the things I hated about Hollywood. It didn't matter how famous you were, people would always have one eye on the lookout for someone bigger and better to go and talk to. It was almost impossible to gain someone's full attention for 30 seconds, let alone the length of an entire conversation.

But you were different.

I watched as you listened and nodded intently to a little old man who was explaining to you the difference between Renaissance and Neoclassicism. I sipped my second glass of champagne, studying you intently as I tried to decide whether or not to approach you or to let you come to me.

True to form, your outfit also stood out from the crowd. Unlike the black ties and cocktail dresses surrounding you, you were dressed in an army green jumpsuit and a pair of suede boots. You even had a dangly cross earring hanging from your left ear that reminded me of George Michael.

I recognized your chestnut brown hair from photos I'd seen of you from the inauguration several months prior, but your beard was new. In contrast to your perfectly quaffed brown hair, you'd grown a short and ruddy beard that made you seem like a secret ginger.

To be honest, I'm ashamed to say that part of me judged you. From your clothes to your hair to the way you walked, I thought you were loud and effeminate. Don't get me wrong, I was raised in an accepting household. I had nothing against gay people.

But school was a different thing—I grew up surrounded by certain notions of what it meant to be a man. You seemed to violate all of them.

I watched as you rubbed elbows with artists and gallery owners, asking their opinions of the paintings and listening to the history of the artists. You seemed so comfortable in your own skin as you flitted around. After a minute of watching you, I decided that the best course of action was to let you come to me. I would wander somewhere within your line of sight while pretending to look at the art, then let you do the approach and engage me in conversation.

Suddenly you touched the man you were talking to on the shoulder and thanked him before turning to walk away. It was then that you turned and saw me staring right at you from across the room.

I quickly looked away, worried that I'd given myself away. I waited a few seconds, pretending to study the painting in front of me as I tried to regroup. I can't even tell you what the painting was like, even though I must have stared at it for at least 30 seconds. But when I turned back to check, your green eyes were trained right on me. You smiled.

"Well, I guess it's too late to play it cool," I thought. "But I can still let you come to me."

I nodded at you and flashed you one of my sexiest smiles, then turned and slipped into the adjacent room. I was pretty sure you would follow me, especially if what Dominus had told me about your crush was true.

The back room was much less crowded than the main one. It was lined with rare books in display cases against the wall. I walked along, pretending to be interested in the books I was seeing.

"Anything catch your eye?"

I turned to see you standing a few feet away, the Secret Service men hovering behind you. You were smiling at me, your earring glinting in the light.

"Just browsing," I said coolly as I turned back to look at the books.

I heard you walk closer to me. My heart was pounding in my chest.

"Come on," I thought to myself. "What would Jason Middleton do?"

"How about you?" I asked. "You look like the kind of guy who would have an eye for this sort of thing."

You laughed. "I'm more of a Nancy Drew kind of a girl, myself."

"Oh? Hardy Boys not up to snuff?"

"Well, Joe was hunky enough," you said. "But Nancy was the real brains. She had those boys wrapped around her finger in all the crossover novels."

I looked over at you to see you studying me intently with those green eyes. I hoped the nervousness I felt inside wasn't showing through.

"I'm Colin," I said, reaching my hand out.

You took my hand in yours, then clasped it with your other hand and leaned in.

"I know who you are," you said. "Forgive me, but I'm a bit of a fan. I'm Zach."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know who you are as well," I said.

You raised an eyebrow. "Well, would you look at that? We're already old friends."

You were still holding my hand in yours. I could see your chest peeking out from the opening of your jumpsuit, a light dusting of hair leading down toward your sternum. Your hands felt warm, but soft. They reminded me of my ex-girlfriend's hands.

"So tell me, Colin," you said, letting go of my hand. "What brings you to DC? It's a long way from Hollywood."

"I'm shooting a film. It's all very hush hush. David Lynch and all that."

You lowered your jaw. "You're kidding! I loved Twin Peaks. What's the film about?"

I wagged my finger at you. "David would kill me. You understand."

Of course, there was no film. But I wasn't supposed to bring up Ecclesium, not yet at least.

You pursed your lips. "Perhaps I'll get it out of you at some point. Are you in DC long?"

"Indefinitely. Shooting is supposed to go for at least another couple of months."

"Well, maybe you'd be able to take a break from your busy schedule and join me for dinner this weekend," you said, smiling. "I've been dying to try Fiola Mare in the harbor."

"Is the dress as fancy as this?"

"Oh, this will do just fine," you said, trailing your hand down my arm.

I could feel my heart pounding faster than ever. My skin was crawling with discomfort. It was painfully clear you were interested in me romantically, which made me feel sick to my stomach with guilt. I felt terrible for leading you on, but I didn't want to put you off for fear of losing you as a recruit.

"I'm looking forward to it," I said coolly.

You gave me your number before turning to go back to the main room.

"Oh, and Colin?" you said as you stopped in the doorway. "Leave Cheryl at home."

You winked at me as you disappeared back into the crowd.

____________________

"This is perfect, man," Dominus said to me as I sat in his office the next morning. "You did better than I expected."

"But he's clearly into me," I complained. "What am I supposed to do about that? He thinks this is a date."

"Exactly. Just think how close you'll be able to get to him when he's head over heels for you."

I frowned. "I feel bad about this. I don't want to be disingenuous."

Dominus squinted at me. "I'm worried about you, Colin. This doesn't sound like my guy. Why are you holding back?"

"I'm not holding back, I just-"

"You are holding back," Dominus said abruptly. He walked over to me and leaned against his desk in front of me. "What's the limitation that's keeping you from this? What's the fearful lie you're telling yourself?"

I sighed. An R&R was the last thing I felt like I needed right now.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess... I'm afraid that he's going to develop feelings for me or something. And then I'm going to have to let him down."

Dominus raised his eyebrows. "That's a lot to put on yourself. Do you really think you're such a stud that he won't be able to help but fall in love with you?"

"No, but-"

"When we put ourselves at the center of the universe, when our ego is our guiding light, it blinds us. And you know well enough that the opposite of ego is service. In this case, you're being of service to your fellow Ecclesians by bringing this new recruit in. Don't put your own selfish fears ahead of that."

I nodded. He was right. It was absurd to think you would fall in love with me after one date.

"Once I bring him in, then what?"

"Don't worry about it," said Dominus. "Just humor him for a little bit. Then we can start to introduce him to Ecclesium and we'll take it from there. And remember—what you're doing is going to help countless people. You're going to help change people's lives the same way I changed your life."

Do you know what the sad thing is, Zach? I actually believed him.

You sent a car for me that Friday night. I knew the restaurant we were going to was classy, so I wore a dark slim fit suit with a skinny black tie. I found myself feeling butterflies in my stomach, which was strange. It was almost like I was having first date jitters.

I tried to shake it off. This was ridiculous, I wasn't even gay! All I had to do was keep this going until Dominus gave the green light to bring you in.

As I walked outside my apartment, the driver got out of the car and opened the side door. I could see you inside, smiling at me.

"Hop in!" you said.

I slid in the car next to you. You sat there grinning at me in a tight black turtleneck and a pair of chinos.

"I'm feeling a little overdressed," I said nervously.

You laughed. "Don't be. You look very sexy."

I blushed as the driver pulled away.

"I was sorry to hear about Chasing Emory getting canceled," you said as we drove towards the harbor.

"Yeah, it's just a shame I didn't get to give Jason more of an ending to his storyline," I said. I could smell a slight fragrance coming off of you, something light and citrusy. I suppressed the desire to breathe it in deeper.

"Still, a David Lynch film. I mean, that's quite a step up, isn't it? You must be excited."

I nodded. "Yeah, it's shaping up to be something really cool."

I could feel a pit in my stomach. Lying to you did not feel natural at all.

When we got to the restaurant, I was surprised to see the Secret Service agents getting out of the car behind us. They followed us inside as we approached the hostess.

"Reservation for Zachary Nelson?" you said, smiling charismatically.

"Right this way, Mr. Nelson. We have a lovely little booth for you in the back here-"

"Do you have anything outside?" you asked.

"Oh, um... well, yes, we do have some tables with a view of the harbor."

You turned and touched my arm. "Is that alright with you? I'd love to watch the sun set over the harbor while we eat."

I shrugged. "Sure."

One of the Secret Service agents stepped forward and leaned in. "Sir, we can offer you better protection inside. There's too much to account for-"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not going to live my life in a bubble. If they wanna shoot me while I'm eating oysters, let them."

You grabbed my hand. "Come on, handsome."

The hostess led us outside as I trailed along behind you, still holding your hand. I found myself smiling at your forthrightness. I was so averse to conflict that I would never have imagined asking for another table, let alone challenging someone for it.

The hostess left us with the menus. We sat at a table near the end with a clear view of the harbor. The sun was starting to inch closer towards the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the table.

"I don't know about you, but I think it's a sin to go to a seafood restaurant and not get oysters," you said as you opened the menu.

I nodded. "I'm down for some oysters."

Truth be told, I had never tried oysters a day in my life. But in the spirit of trying something new...

"So," you said after we had both ordered. "I have a question for you."

"You wanna know who the Saran Wrap Killer was on Chasing Emory."

You chuckled. "No. I wanna know about you. Tell me, what made you get into acting in the first place?"

I shrugged. "I guess I've always loved it. I did this play in middle school, it was called the Apollo of Bellac. It was the first time I'd ever been onstage before, and I remember my teacher cast me as the lead even though I was sick the day of auditions."

I smiled at the memory. "I was so nervous onstage. But it was a good kind of nervous, you know? Like I knew everyone's eyes were on me, that I could mess up at any second and everything would come crashing down. But there was also this sense of power. I had everyone's attention in the palm of my hand. I could do whatever I wanted with it. I could deviate from the script, I could dance... I could tear my clothes off and jump up and down if I wanted."

You laughed, watching me with amused curiosity. "I can imagine your teacher would have been thrilled with that."

"I loved that feeling," I continued. "I loved getting to tell a story. And sure, sometimes you play a character that you don't care for, or you're telling a story that isn't your own. But you get to make it your own. Because at the end of the day, it's you up there. You're the one with the power to shape people's minds."

"I'm sorry," I said, my face turning red. "That sounds so arrogant to say."

"No. I know what you mean," you said, sitting forward. "It's how I feel sometimes. Like, even though I'm not in politics or anything like my dad, I'm still a public figure. People care about what I say whether I like it or not. I try to use it for things I care about."

I nodded. "Yeah, I was gonna say, I read about that interview you gave with 60 Minutes. It was about suicide, right?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "I got so much shit for that. My dad had just gotten the nomination in the primary and there I was, on national television, talking about the time I tried to kill myself."

You blushed, your face falling. "I'm sorry, this is NOT appropriate first date conversation-"

"No. It's okay. Keep going."

"I don't know, I mean, I was only 16. I didn't know... well, anything," you said, looking out across the harbor. I could see the sun illuminating your ginger beard.

"It's an epidemic. Queer kids are 5 times as likely to try and kill themselves as anyone else. And yet shit like conversion therapy is still legal in more states than not. Somebody needs to talk about it."

"I didn't know that," I said.

You looked at me with such a look of passion that I thought for a moment you were angry with me. But then your face softened and you gave me a small smile. "You know, it's funny. I got so many emails after that interview. So many kids who reached out to me to tell me that they'd been thinking about killing themselves. They just needed somebody to talk to."

I felt a pit in my stomach at that moment. Because as I watched you speak, as I watched the sun streaming across your face, I realized just how much I liked you. And it made deceiving you feel all the more dirty.

Part of me wanted to tell you the truth right then and there, to tell you that I wasn't gay. Maybe there was some way I could recruit you into Ecclesium without having to lie to you. Before I could say anything, however, the waitress walked over with our oysters and two glasses of wine.

"Perfect timing," you said, grinning as you picked up an oyster shell.

"I'm gonna need you to show me what I'm supposed to do here," I said sheepishly.

"Don't worry, babe. I've got you." You winked at me.

I blushed. Fuck, how could I tell you the truth?

You showed me how to add the horseradish, the little red sauce, and squeeze the lemon. I held the oyster up to my mouth, fully expecting to hurl.

"Just swallow it whole," you said as you demonstrated.

I followed your lead, letting it slide straight down my gullet. I winced in anticipation, but found myself pleasantly surprised by the taste.

"That was good!" I exclaimed just a little too loudly.

You laughed. "Try another!"

The next one I chewed a little before swallowing, trying to savor some of the flavor. It was much better than I had expected. I found myself slurping down the rest of the oysters as you laughed in amusement.

"I told you you'd like them," you said.

I blushed at my greediness. "They're really good," I said, my mouth still full of oyster.

As the dinner went along, I found myself feeling more and more comfortable around you. You were so easy to talk to, so easy to open up to. I knew you were going to be an excellent recruit. You were so charismatic, so full of life. I could easily see us running R&Rs together. I wished that I could tell you more about it, but Dominus hadn't wanted me to mention the group just yet.

I felt giddy on the car ride home. I'd had a couple of glasses of wine at dinner, but I think the giddiness really just came from being in your presence.

"I can't believe you don't wanna know who the Saran Wrap Killer was!" I exclaimed, loosening my tie. "That's literally everyone's first question."

You rolled your eyes. "Please. We all know the Saran Wrap Killer was Mrs. Aspen."

I stared at you in shock. "How the fuck did you guess that?"

"She was literally the only person who had motive!" you said emphatically. "Plus everybody else was too busy fucking each other whenever somebody got murdered. I swear, that show was like a softcore porno."

I laughed, then leaned in and said, "We used to have this intimacy coordinator on set. She would help us figure out all the different positions and stuff so no one could see the little modesty garments we wore over our junk."

You opened your eyes in shock as a smile spread across your face. "You could have fooled me... I think I rewatched that scene between you and Cheryl in the shower like 10 times to try and see if I could spot your junk. They did get a great shot of your ass, though."

You bit your lip and smiled coyly at me. My stomach was full of butterflies again.

Before either of us could say anything, the car pulled up to my apartment.

"This was really fun," I said.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your door," you said as you opened your door to get out.

I reached for the handle and opened the car door. My heart was pounding in my chest. I didn't know what was going to happen. Were you going to try to come upstairs with me? Did I want that?

Of course I didn't. Or at least I thought I didn't. But something in me was reluctant to part ways. We were having such a nice time and I wasn't ready for the night to end.

As we walked over to the door to my apartment, the two Secret Service agents followed a few paces behind. I glanced back nervously.

"I'm sorry about them," you said. "I know they're kind of a buzzkill, but they're really good guys. Plus it wouldn't be a date without my shadows following me around."

"It's okay," I said as we stopped outside my door. "I'm used to being watched."

You laughed, then grew quiet as you looked up at me. I was surprised to see your eyes full of fear. I was the one who was terrified. What could you possibly have to be afraid of?

Suddenly I could feel your hands on my chest. You looked in my eyes, lips trembling as you leaned up and kissed me.

The thing that surprised me the most was how warm your lips were. I had never kissed a man before, so I had no idea what to expect. The scratch of your beard was definitely a surprise, that's for sure. But your lips were so soft and warm, a part of me wanted to automatically open my mouth and kiss you back.

That thought terrified me.

Before I knew what was happening, I had lifted my hands and pushed you back. I barely had time to register the look of shock on your face as you stumbled backwards before I felt myself being pummeled to the ground. The next thing I knew I was staring up in a daze at the light above my apartment door with the wind knocked out of me.