Jed was leaning forward over his desk, deeply engrossed in a mock list of questions that CJ had given him in preparation for his afternoon press conference when Leo entered the office with barely a knock.

"Well, what brings you in here with that furrowed brow?" Jed asked.

"There's something you need to see before your press conference."

Jed's frowned at the worried look on Leo's face but he was more than a little surprised when he glanced down at the magazine his chief of staff had laid out in front of him.

"Why exactly do I need to know People magazine's 25 sexiest women in the world?" Jed lifted a questioning brow. "Has this become hard news? Will I be questioned on them?"

"Page 53," Leo said tightly.

Jed began flipping pages, alarm bells going off in his head as he reached page 53 and the full page glamour shot of his wife, her red hair blowing back off her shoulders, her sultry green eyes emphasized by eyeliner, a deeply cut black top hugging her curves. "Dr. Abigail Bartlet, First Lady" proclaimed the headline.

Jed felt his heart begin to race a little faster as he wondered exactly what was in the article under the headline. Did they know about the tattoo? The naval piercing? Their extravagant spending at Victoria's Secret? Or, even worse, the gossip about their very active and vocal sex life, especially that one careless carnal night on the deck of the “Abigail Anne”?

Before delving into the article, he began to peruse the smaller pictures that ran beside the story. There was one taken on the farm when he had been running for office the first time around. It was nothing new; the picture had been all over the news media. He and Abbey were in jeans and suede jackets and they were walking with their hands in each other's back pockets. He grinned slightly as he read the caption to himself.

"The Dr.'s Bartlet have long been known to have an extremely close relationship. According to a staff member close to the brainy and attractive First Couple, (President Bartlet was voted People's sexiest man alive in 1999 just after his election), “The President and Mrs. Bartlet share a uniquely passionate relationship, they have intellectual heat, emotional heat, romantic heat and sexual heat."

There were three other small photo's lined up side by side. The first was taken by Annie Liebovitz just a couple of weeks after the twin's birth. In that photo Abbey looked every inch the image of the provocative earth mother. She was laying under a sheet the appearance being that she was nude underneath. Her head was propped up on her elbow her bright hair spilling over her shoulder onto the silky cream colored sheets. Aislinn lay beside her a fistful of her mother's red hair clenched in her tiny hand, her little feet kicking in the air. Abbey's other hand rested on her newborn daughter's belly a gentle, loving smile on her face as she gazed down at their new little miracle. It was one of Jed's very favorite pictures of mother and daughter.

In the next one she was wearing a tank top, her hair twisted into a clip, wispy tendrils curling around her slender neck. Her back was to the camera, Nicholas in her arms. The small baby's wide blue eyes were focused on the camera as he sucked and drooled on his mother's bare shoulder. Abbey was kissing the top of his head, the very picture of maternal tenderness.

The third photo was one of he and Abbey dancing on the “Abigail Anne", Abbey wearing her red white and blue bikini top and matching sarong. Again, the photos were nothing that hadn't been flashed on the cover of magazines around the world, and again Jed read the caption.

"The First Lady has quite effectively proven that motherhood can indeed be sexy. Just six months after giving birth to twins (Aislinn and Nicholas Bartlet, now aged 20 months) Abigail Bartlet had slimmed down to the point where she could show off her famously spectacular figure in this patriotic bikini. According to a friend, "Abbey has a body that could stop traffic and there's no reason on earth she shouldn't be able to show her figure off to its best advantage."

The last photo on the bottom of the page was taken the day of Mrs. Landinghams funeral. It was of the two of them climbing the stairs hand in hand to enter the National Cathedral. Abbey wore a short tight black suit and four-inch stilettos. Now that he really looked at the photo he knew what a mess of grief and confusion he'd been at that point because he had never really noticed just how amazingly sexy his wife had looked even dressed for mourning. This time the caption brought out the negatives of not fitting into the old fashioned view of a politician's wife.

"Despite worldwide admiration Abigail Bartlet does have her detractors. The Christian right has long admonished her for wearing skirts that fall above the knee into a house of worship and even Janet Ritchie, the wife of Republican nominee Governor Rob Ritchie, has lambasted her for wearing dresses she and other conservative Republican's feel reveal too much First Lady cleavage. "It's not proper," Mrs. Ritchie stated recently at the Republican convention. "Mrs. Bartlet should wear proper clothes befitting the wife of a President, not dress as if she is a Hollywood moviestar."

Jed cringed at that one wondering if Janet Ritchie had a death wish. There was no way that Abbey was going to let that comment go.

"Well?" Leo asked.

"Give me a minute, I haven't read the article yet, just the pictures."

Jed leaned back in his chair and began to read.

”Never in the history of our country have we ever had a First Lady with as much sex appeal as Dr. Abigail Bartlet. We've had attractive First Ladies, stylish First Ladies, politically active First Ladies and formidable First Ladies, but none that have combined all of the above into one small, yet, potent package.

Dr. Bartlet, with her smoky gray-green eyes and long curling auburn hair does not fit into any cookie cutter image of a First Lady. She has a sense of classy, sexual elegance that has never before been witnessed in the White House. With her form fitting skirts worn just above the knee to reveal a pair of legs a Broadway dancer would envy, strappy stiletto heels, and evening gowns with plunging necklines, Abbey Bartlet, has become a spokeswoman for the new modern American woman. The woman who can be a feminist, a successful surgeon, a wife and a mother and still radiate sexuality. Her self-confidence and the fact that she knows exactly who she is only adds to her allure.

For the past few decades' women have been told that they have to make a choice, be feminine or be taken seriously. Abigail Bartlet has never made that choice. She is taken quite seriously, thank you, and her femininity is one of the few things that both sides of the aisle can agree on. She has been described by more than one Republican senator as, "Small, stacked and sexy, with legs a mile long." Say's one staffer "The President is quite envied on Capital Hill."

That's not to say that everyone is happy with the idea of a sexy First Lady. The Christian Right has come down hard on Abbey Bartlet for her choice of attire. The White House is often flooded with letters from angry Americans----mostly Republicans----- who feel that their First Lady should dress in a more conservative manner, certainly not let herself be photographed in a bikini, as she has been for the past couple of summers at the family's summer home on the coast of Maine.

"Sour grapes," says one insider, on the condition of anonymity. "Those old prune faced conservative wives have been on capital hill for decades. They don't like the breath of fresh air that Abbey has brought with her and they certainly don't like that their husbands like it. They just want Mamie Eisenhower or Barbara Bush back. Abbey is never going to fit into that image, nor would she ever want to. She certainly doesn't go overboard, she always looks classy, but she has a great body, why should she have to hide that?"

Why indeed? And that's why we picked Dr. Abigail Bartlet as one of the sexiest women in the world.”

Jed slid his glasses off and leaned back in his chair not saying a word. Leo had expected some kind of explosion, what he had not expected was the almost smug look on the President's face.

"Well?" Leo said.

"Well what? What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, SOMETHING".

"I don't know what you want me to say. That article didn't say anything that we all didn't already know, that everyone in America didn't already know."

"Maybe they know it but it's never been presented in quite this way."

"Leo this is old news. We went through all of this the first time around and we've been through it since."

"And we've had to fight it time and time again."

"Don't fight it anymore."

"Excuse me."

"There's no reason to fight it anymore. The American people know Abbey now. Polls show that she's the most admired woman in America. Women all over the world copy her choice in clothes, her shoes, her hairstyles and her jewelry. Mother's follow her lead when it comes to raising their children. Abbey breast-fed the twins and suddenly mothers all across America were doing the same. Abbey lets Nicholas suck his thumb and suddenly other mother's don't worry about fighting their own children about it. There are always going to be people who don't like a smart, independent, attractive woman who won't fit into the mold they want her to fit in. It doesn't matter how she dresses, she'll never change the impression those people have of her and to be honest that's fine with us. I love my wife just the way that she is, I won't ask her to change, not ever, don't ask me to."

"Somebody may have to." Bruno entered the room his face tight a manila folder in his hand.

"Bruno, the damn article is benign." Jed's irritation was quite evident. "We can't control who "People" magazine picks as their sexiest women."

"I'm not worried about the "People" article. Well, I am, but we've got bigger problems." He handed the manila folder over.

Jed took the folder, slid his glasses back on and leaned back in his chair. His brow furrowed and both Leo and Bruno watched a red flush begin to rise in his face as he rifled through page after page.

"WHERE did you get these?" Barely restrained anger filled Jed's voice.

"On the Internet. They're all over the Internet and they'll be in all of the tabloids by the beginning of the week. Are they real?"

"What do you mean are they real?"

"I can't imagine that Mrs. Bartlet posed for those pictures, was her face superimposed?"

"No, they're real all right, she did pose for those pictures."

Bruno closed his eyes pressing his fingers into his forehead. "What in the HELL was she thinking posing like that?"

"Those weren't meant for public consumption," Jed snapped. "She did a photo layout for Vogue. She asked the photographer if he would take some…uh… personal photos as a gift for me. He was supposed to destroy the negatives."

"Well, evidently he didn't."

"I think that's pretty obvious." Jed flashed him a sarcastic irritated look. As far as he was concerned this was a whole lot of something about nothing, but he knew that he would have to deal with it. "Look, we'll discuss this later, I have a press conference to get to and I'd like to call my wife before I go. Abbey needs a heads up."

"You're probably going to be asked about the pictures," CJ said from the doorway. "What's our official response?"

"The truth," Jed said. "The pictures were intended to be a private gift NOT to be displayed on the Internet or in any damn magazine. While we're at it, CJ, I want you to find out who's behind those pictures being released."

"Sir?"

"I want you to find out who the son of bitch is. I've said this before and I'll say it again, you can fuck with me all you want but you DON'T fuck with my family."

"I'll see what I can find out," CJ assured him.

Jed stood sliding the photo's back into the folder. "So help me, God, if I find out the Ritchie camp had anything to do with trying to embarrass my wife I'm going to make them pay."

****

"Mrs. Bartlet, how do you feel about being voted one of "People's" 25 sexiest women in the world," shouted a reporter, as Abbey stepped out of her sedan to make her way to the hotel entrance.

Abbey flashed them a careless smile. "Flattered of course."

"Have you heard about the Internet photo's?"

"Yes"

"Have you seen them?"

"Not yet, my husband informed me they were out there."

"Any comments?"

"Just what he already said. I had those pictures taken as a gift for my husband, I certainly never expected anyone but him and I to see them."

"Are you embarrassed by them?"

"Not at all. I'm upset that something that was supposed to be private between my husband and myself has become public domain, but I'm not embarrassed. The photo's were professionally and tastefully done, I'm not ashamed of them."

Despite her calm attitude with the reporters Abbey was furious and shaken as she entered the hotel.

"Hurry up, pull them up, Lily." Abbey stood in her hotel room beside her chief of staff while Lily signed on to her laptop. Lily clicked on the heading stating "See suggestive photo's of the First Lady" and up they came, one after the other.

Abbey watched with dread as each photo filled the screen. There she was lying across a brocade loveseat completely naked save for the sheet that was draped strategically across her breasts and hips.

There she was facing the camera with a very sultry look as she knelt on the bed in nothing but a man's dress shirt, a dress shirt that was completely unbuttoned leaving a column of naked skin from throat to hips, the tails held together demurely at the apex of her thighs.

There she was her back to the camera holding a sheet over her breasts, a sheet that dipped all the way to her rear baring the entire slender expanse of her back. But, it was more than just her back that was revealed.

"Oh God," she groaned. "You can see my tattoo. You can see the damned tattoo."

"I never knew you had a tattoo."

"Most people don't," Abbey snapped. "But now the whole fucking world knows." She paced away from the computer arms wrapped protectively around her waist. She hadn't been lying to the reporters outside. She didn't feel shame over the photos; in fact she had been quite proud of them when she'd given them to Jed. What she did feel was a horrible sense of violation. While she hadn't been naked in any of the photo's she felt completely stripped bare before the world, her privacy shattered.

Lily was squinting at the photo as Abbey went through her appointment book. "It's so small on the screen, what is it? You know you'll be asked."

"It's a Celtic knot," Abbey said as she found the number she was looking for and began to dial.

"A Celtic knot?"

"It symbolizes forever, you can never get the knot undone. I got it to symbolize my marriage to Jed."

"That's so romantic." Romance was on Lily's brain. Abbey's chief of staff had just gotten engaged to a congressman who had not run for re-election. A congressman who was going back to California and was taking Lily with him right after the holidays.

"Hi, Harry," Abbey said into the telephone, her tone ice cold. "This is Abigail Bartlet."

"Mrs. Bartlet, I'm so sorry about the photographs. I never meant for this to happen."

"What did happen, Harry? You promised me that you would develop the pictures yourself and destroy the negatives. Those photos were supposed to be for Jed's eyes only."

"I did develop them myself…."

"I think there is a but in there somewhere."

"I asked my assistant to do away with the negatives."

"Oh, Harry."

"I trusted him, I never thought he'd betray me. I…I loved him."

Slowly the relationship between the famous photographer and his young male assistant made sense to her. "What do you mean betray you? I'M the one who's splashed half naked all over the Internet, and if I'm to believe my husband's press secretary, which I do, I'll be all over the tabloids next week."

"It wasn't you. It didn't have anything to do with you. This was revenge against me."

"I don't understand."

"Gregory was my lover." There was dead silence on the other end. "Have I shocked you?"

"It would take more than a homosexual relationship to shock me, Harry. I've had gay male friends over the years."

"Yes, well, I broke up with Gregory a couple of weeks ago. I found out he was stepping out on me, and, well, even without the emotional devastation it's just too dangerous in this day in age to take a chance with a man who has several different partners."

"What does this have to do with the pictures?" Abbey asked impatiently.

"I'm getting to that. Gregory didn't like it when I broke things off. He'd grown very comfortable living the high life as my mistress. He threatened to destroy me, to pay me back. He must have kept those negatives as collateral or something; this is the way he's paying me back. When you tell the press that I broke my promise to destroy the negatives, my career as a celebrity fashion photographer is over. People need to be able to trust me."

"So, he put the pictures of me on the Internet, gave them to the tabloids."

"No, I think he gave them to David Brenner."

"Who the hell is David Brenner?"

"One of Gregory's lovers who also happens to be a high ranking member of the Republican National Committee."

"I see. Yes, I see very well now. Thank you, Harry."

"I really am sorry, ma'am, but please don't be too upset. Those pictures are beautiful, all the world is going to see is just how lovely you are and all the sensual feelings that you have for your husband."

"Yes, well, I'm not quite sure I'm exactly comfortable with that. Thank you again for being honest with me, Harry."

She hung up and turned to Lily. "Shit," she seethed. "I should have known Ritchie would be behind all this. He hides behind that genial, moronic good old boy smile and all the time he's as sleazy as they come."

"We all know that, now we just need to find a way to make sure the American public knows that."

"He's not the only one that I'd like to "out". I have a feeling that bitch Janet Ritchie is in this up to her elbows. She hates me. She'd like nothing more than for me to be Jed's downfall."

"Well, we aren't going to let that happen. You're the victim, here ma'am and we're going to make sure that the press knows that."

"I have to call Jed. He needs to get the staff on this. If we can prove that David Brenner is behind all of this we can attack the Republicans right back where it hurts, right into their reputation for nasty mudslinging."

****

"So, what were you thinking about when that picture was taken?" Jed asked. They had quickly moved passed Abbey's information in regards to how the pictures were released and moving into more risqué areas of conversation.

"Which picture?"

"The one where you're kneeling on the bed with that sultry, sinful little smile. "What were you thinking of when that picture was taken?"

"What do you think I was thinking?" She teased coquettishly. "Of you of course."

"And what about me?"

"You seeing me like that, seeing the picture, wanting me."

"Oh man, do I ever. Were you thinking about me seeing you like that knowing that I would want to slide my hands inside your shirt to cup your breasts? Were you thinking that I'd want to lower my head and caress your soft skin with my lips? Were you thinking about how I'd take your nipple into my mouth and suckle you until your knees buckled with passion?"

"Mmm…Jed don't start this, I need a good night's sleep tonight." Abbey squeezed an arm tightly over her tingling nipples.

Jed ignored her plea and continued on unmercifully. "Were you thinking about me moving your hands and opening the tails of that shirt so I could slide my hand inside your panties and feel how hot and wet you were for me? Did you want to feel me stroking you and…"

Jed trailed off at the discreet cough from the doorway. He'd left the study door to the residence wide open and Leo now stood there, a pink flush of embarrassment rising in his cheeks.

"Jed?" Abbey's voice was shaky now, that place between her thighs pulsing with frustration. "You can't just leave me there."

"Sorry, babe. Leo's here, I gotta go."

"You're a real bastard, you know?"

"I know," he said sympathetically. "Think about me in your dreams tonight."

"No, you think about ME, love muffin. Think about me sinking down onto my knees in front of you, gently unzipping your pants and sliding Old Hickory out of his confinement. Think about how good it would feel as I trace my tongue all around the tip of you, tasting you. Think about how you'd groan as I open my mouth and..."

"ENOUGH, Abbey" Jed felt his pants tightening as Old Hickory was evidently all for his favorite gal's plans for him.

Abbey chuckled at the other end. "Hey, two can play at this game. If I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, neither are you. Night, night Mr. President." She hung up before he could respond.

Jed hung up the receiver, shifting in his seat to make himself more comfortable. As he did so he disturbed the kitten that had been sleeping peacefully on his lap. Oliver stretched out and jumped to the floor. Startled from where he was sleeping by the doorway, Max jolted awake to be face to face with the small gray kitten. That was when Oliver made a big mistake. He hissed at the big dog and tried to race past him out the door. Max jumped to his feet and gave chase barking his foolish head off.

"MAX!" Jed shouted and began chasing both the dog and the cat from the study to the living room. "MAX LEAVE THAT CAT ALONE!" He could just picture the big Shepherd making mincemeat out of the kitten. How the hell would he explain that to Abbey and the kids?

But, little Oliver was more resourceful than Jed had given him credit for. He jumped onto the end table knocking pictures and knickknacks to the floor then took a flying leap to catch onto the drapes where he proceeded to climb all the way to the top.

Max jumped at the drapes barking and carrying on while the cat hissed and spit down at him.

"Enough, Max." Jed grabbed the dog by the collar and shut him out of the living room. When he returned, Leo watched bemused as the President of the United States stood on a chair trying to coax the frightened kitten off the drapes where he clung for dear life.

"So, you got a cat." Leo grinned.

"Brilliant deduction"

"I didn't think you liked cats."

"He belongs to Abbey and the kids. Abbey took him in as stray." Jed cuddled the trembling kitten to his chest and climbed down off the chair. "If anything, he'll be a good mouser here."

"Sure," Leo shook his head. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a marshmallow, Mr. President?"

Jed's eyes narrowed but before he could retort with a comeback he heard his son on the other side of the door.

"Daddy" Nicholas cried out sleepily. "Daddy…." Evidently all the barking and hissing had woken up the twins as well.

Still holding the kitten, Jed moved to the door and opened it to see Nicky in his pajama's rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"You little monkey, how many times have mommy and I told you not to climb out of your crib?" Jed lifted Nicholas into his arms then turned to Leo.

"Was there something you wanted?"

Leo watched the little boy's head drop against Jed's shoulder, his thumb going back in his mouth. "You know for the life of me I can't remember what I came up here for." Leo shook his head with bewilderment. His best friend's chaotic lifestyle was a far cry from his own quiet lonely one. "But, it looks like you've got your hands full. I'll leave you to it."

Jed nodded and Leo watched as he made his way to the nursery to put Nicholas back into bed, the kitten now perched on his shoulder. Another sleepy cry of "daddy" resounded as Jed opened the door. Leo wondered if Jed's children would wear him out enough to allow him to forget the steamy little phone call he'd shared with Abbey. He could only imagine what Abbey had been saying on the other side to cause Jed to squirm and fidget with discomfort.

****

Just a couple of days after the "People" article and the pictures had been released on the Internet Bruno sat looking at the TV screen with disbelief. It was MTV's "Rock the Vote" night. He knew that the First Lady was there with Zoey and CJ. What he hadn't expected was for her to take the stage in a just above the knee red leather mini-skirt, black high heels and a black "Rock the Vote" T-shirt. It didn't matter that the skirt wasn't particularly tight, that it looked elegant and chic, it was the fact that it was LEATHER. Leather, Jesus Christ, what was that woman trying to do to him? He watched the boys in the audience; boys her own daughter's age, whooping it up, clearly appreciative of the First Lady's attire. One young man held up a sign that read "Abbey Bartlet's a Babe"

Bruno shook his head with dismay. Clearly Abbey was snubbing her nose at all the stiff necked politicians wives who had been mouthing off to the press that they knew something like this would catch up with her and that she had no business posing for those pictures, and also the Christian right who were trying to paint her as the Whore of Babylon. Oh, there were plenty of people who had jumped to her defense. The polls were showing that most American's were sympathizing with the First Lady and that it was nobody's business what kind of photos she had taken of herself for her husband, but it was still a distraction that they didn't need right now.

Bruno had wanted a low profile, a quiet, repentant Abbey, but it was obvious he wasn't going to get that. No, he was getting in your face, take me as I am Abbey Bartlet, and while that was great for younger voters and liberal voters, it might hurt them in the long run with older voters who were now a huge block to contend with.

"Paula," he called out to one of his assistants. "Find out when the First Lady is due back from New York. We need to have a little talk."

TBC...