The President-elect sits behind a large desk, staring intently at an intelligence briefing. She is alone. Suddenly, the red phone rings. The President jerks backwards, startled. She stares at the phone through two rings and then grabs the receiver.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Mrs. President, we have an urgent situation."

"Who is it? The Iranians? The Russians?"

"No, Bill."

"Noooo!"

The Secret Service agent chuckles.

"Sorry Mrs. President, we tried to stop him. And we tried to email you about this situation, but we didn’t get a reply."

"Please tell me you used my personal account, not the government one."

"Well, uh no, we…"

The President breathes deeply and then exhales.

Clinton sighing at a desk

"Okay, forget about that, how serious is it?"

"Big … hooters."

"I beg your pardon, mister? Do you realize who you’re talking to here?"

"We caught Bill in a disturbance at the Hooters near the White House. Officers engaged the First Man at 11 o’clock."

"AM or PM?"

"PM."

The President groans and then closes her eyes before speaking.

"Okay, this really shouldn’t come as a surprise. We all were expecting something like this. Give it to me straight, don’t hold back."

"Tipsy. Backstage with a young woman. Flashing his…."

The agent’s voice is drowned out by explosive background laughter.

"What, goddamnit!"

"Business card. Something about an internship."

"Legal?"

"What? Are you asking if we contacted the Justice Department?"

"Was the little hussy legal?!!"

"Barely."

The line fills with the sound of a liquor bottle shattering, followed by muffled laughter.

"Did anyone else see this? Please tell me that no one filmed this."

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"Two guys. Both had cell phone cameras out. We caught the first one, but the second got away."

"Where is he now?"

"McDonald’s."

The President snaps her pen in half.

"You took the witness to a damn McDonald’s?"

"Sorry. Thought you meant Bill. The captive is on his way to Gitmo. I can assure you that he won’t be a problem. We’ll find the second guy soon enough."

An awkward pause fills the air. The Secret Service agent waits for further instructions. None are forthcoming. He continues:

"Permission to waterboard?"

"What! We’re still doing that crap?"

"Well, Cheney needed something to do after retiring. Guys like that don’t golf."

"So you’re gonna waterboard Bill?"

"What? No, the captive. We think the second witness might be his friend."

The President rubs her forehead and looks at the ceiling.

"No, just do interviews. This is a new era. I’ll green light a titty-twister, but nothing harsher. And keep it quiet. Understood?"

"Yes."

"And email me when you’re done. On my personal account this time."

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