"Whew, what crawled up his butt today?" Josh asked, as he and the rest of the senior staff departed the President's hotel room.

"He's been sullen and broody all afternoon," Sam added. "Now he's just getting downright nasty."

"Could be the heat." Josh suggested. "He hates the heat."

"It isn't the heat," Charlie told them. "It's the fact that Mrs. Bartlet forgot."

"Forgot what?" Sam asked.

Leo's eyes widened realizing what day it was. "Abbey doesn't forget," he said. "EVER. It's a big thing with them."

"Well, she forgot this year," Charlie said. "And the President is NOT taking it well at all."

"Will someone please enlighten me here. WHAT did Mrs. Bartlet forget?" Josh demanded to know.

"Today is the President's birthday. She never called him or got a message to him or anything." Charlie gave Leo a knowing look.

"She's a thousand miles away, she's busy. I'm sure she just forgot." Bruno shook his head over the foolishness of getting upset over something that trivial.

"No, you don't understand, Mrs. Bartlet NEVER forgets." Charlie repeated what Leo had said earlier. "Even when they have a big weekend bash planned she ALWAYS calls on his actual birthday. Even when she was in Zimbabwe one year she got a "Happy Birthday" message out to him."

"In '98 we were campaigning in Michigan and she wasn't with us. She got word to a campaign staffer and had him dress up in a lion suit to deliver her birthday greeting." Leo grinned at the memory.

"A lion suit?" Josh looked puzzled.

"Because he's a Leo," Sam smiled with acknowledgement. "You know, fire sign, the born leader of the astrological chart. Come on Josh, get with the program here."

"Astronomy is not exactly my field of expertise."

"Astrology," Sam corrected.

"Whatever."

"It started back when they were dating in college." Leo moved past the astrology argument. "The President was spending the summer teaching at an Indian reservation in Arizona and Abbey was in Massachusetts with her family. Somehow she was able to reach him through the Jesuits and wish him a happy birthday. Since then she has NEVER forgotten. I can't imagine what happened this year."

****

Abbey sat in the limousine as it stopped in front her hotel, waiting for the agents to okay her departure. A valet approached and chatted a bit with one of her agents then went to the trunk to grab her Louis Vuitton luggage and garment bags and put them onto a cart. As her door was opened she slipped her sunglasses down over her eyes and stepped out into the blazing sunshine. The first thing that struck her was the overpowering steamy heat and the moistness in the air that made it feel as if she were breathing underwater. Her blouse immediately clung to her back with perspiration and it had truly been a mistake to wear pantyhose. As she stood for a moment gazing up at the romantic red brick Place D'Armes her senses were not only assaulted by the heat but by the competing sounds of the street musicians from Jackson Square and the scent of coffee and food coming from the many restaurants that surrounded the hotel. She was standing in the middle of the French Quarter in New Orleans ready to surprise her husband with a weekend she hoped he would never forget.

As she made her way down the hall of the hotel that had been cleared out for the President, she knew that her husband had returned from a day of campaigning thanks to the agents posted at the end of every hall and in front of his suite. She entered his room kicking off her shoes and tugging her pantyhose down her legs almost immediately. She stood for a few moments in front of the air conditioner peeling her blouse away from her skin in an effort to cool off. Once she was feeling a bit less wilted she made her way to find her husband. She frowned as she got closer to the door connecting the bedroom to the rest of the suite. Behind that door she could hear the loud moans and gasping cries of someone having sex. Her heart beating just a tad faster she approached the door and slowly opened it, unaware that she was holding her breath. That breath came out in relief when she found Josh and Sam in the sitting room, sharing a pizza, some beer, and a porno movie. She watched for a few moments waiting for them to notice her in the doorway. When she realized they were too engrossed in the movie to pay any attention to her she coughed lightly.

"So, this is what you guys do when I'm not around." Her voice was laced with amusement but Josh and Sam both went into panic mode.

"Oh, Jesus, oh, Christ, where's the clicker!" Sam jumped up knocking his beer on the floor.

"It was right here!" Josh began to scramble, pulling up the couch cushions.

"Relax, guys, I've seen porn before. I'm not exactly a shrinking virgin. May I have one of those." Abbey gestured toward the beers in the cooler. They nodded their okay and she made her way past them to get one. She was enjoying their discomfort; it amused her to toy with them. She nonchalantly flipped her beer cap off and turned to watch the movie while they were still frantically searching for the elusive TV remote. She grabbed a slice of pizza and tilted her head to the side as the couple on the screen moved into a very contorted position.

"Now that IS intriguing," she said, in the analyzing tone she used as a professor. "Do you suppose that she does yoga?"

Both Sam and Josh turned beet red, a deep flush that extended all the way to the tips of their ears. Abbey almost felt sorry for them, but not enough to quit toying with them. She was still making comments when Jed and Leo came out of the study.

"Abbey?" It didn't take Jed long to move from shock to a broad smile at seeing his wife. "What are you doing here?"

"Bonding with the guys over porn."

"What?" Jed looked puzzled then turned to look at the TV and his embarrassed senior staffers. He shook his head with amused disdain. However, while Jed simply looked long suffering, it was quite evident that Leo was incredibly uncomfortable to be watching a porno movie with Abbey. He looked at the ceiling and the floor, anywhere but the TV or Abbey, but it was impossible to ignore the loud moans and filthy language coming from the small screen.

Abbey's attention was now back on the movie. "So, boys, tell me, just what is it about watching two women going at it like that that turns men on? My women friends and I don't find it particularly appealing or arousing to watch two men have sex."

The guys groaned at the question and Jed grinned at their embarrassment. Abbey was certainly having a good time.

"Oh…wait a minute… there's the TV repairman, a threesome, NOW it's a party." She took a swig from her beer and they both watched Josh and Sam squirm.

"I think you've embarrassed them enough, Abs." Jed grinned and took her arm, turning her to go back into their bedroom.

"Oh come on," she protested. "It was just starting to get good."

"Yeah, well you don't need to live vicariously through a movie."

"No? You gonna put a tool belt on like the guy in that movie and come to fix my TV?"

"I'm up for any kind of role playing you want, darlin'." He led her into the room but before shutting the door he turned to his staffers.

"That movie better be on YOUR room tab." He informed them. "I'd hate for the public to think that MY taste runs to…what was tonight's feature?"

"Hnspicypizgirls" Sam mumbled.

"What?" Jed asked. " I didn't quite get that."

"Hot and Spicy Pizza Girls." Josh was looking straight at Abbey. She was standing in the bedroom doorway innocently nibbling at her slice of pizza and all of the men's eyes were riveted on her.

"Oh, for heaven's sake" she rolled her eyes, setting her piece of pizza down. "You guys need girlfriends."

Cognizant of the male eyes on his wife, Jed hurriedly ushered her into their bedroom.

"Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going, quit pushing," she protested.

"You're getting my staff all distracted."

"Distracted? From what? Watching porn? THAT'S what you're worried about. So, what's the deal anyway, is that how you guys spend your evenings when I'm not around to keep you in line?"

"Not me," he said with mock horror.

"Oh, of course not," she gave him a sarcastic smile. "Not my sainted husband, not the man who was once an altar boy, who thought he might want to be a priest, who…"

"Who carries around his own porn." Jed reached into his suitcase and pulled out an old worn dog-eared photo.

"Oh my GOD, you still carry that around?"

"Everywhere I go, chere."

"Let me see that." Abbey grabbed the photo from him and stared at the picture. It was a photo of herself. She was kneeling on the tangled sheets of their bed at the farm completely naked. Her back was arched and she was thrusting her breasts toward the camera, her head tilted to one side, hair falling over her shoulder. She had taken the photo herself with the timer on the camera and had given it to Jed when he'd been elected to Congress. She remembered telling him that he could look at it when he got lonely and though she had never said it aloud, she had given it to him as a deterrent as well. She figured that if he were ever tempted to stray it wouldn't hurt him to take a look at what he was going to lose as a consequence. She'd never asked him how he used the picture but she did know that he'd kept it with him all the time, she just didn't realize that after all these years he still kept it.

"You haven't shown this to anyone, have you?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yeah, Abbey, I love to flash pictures of my nude wife in front of my friends."

"Don't get snippy, I'm just asking. I can't believe that you kept it."

"It happens to be a favorite of mine."

"I'll just bet it is. Well, I'm going to hop in the shower and then it's all yours while I get dressed."

"I don't have anything scheduled tonight, we can just spend the evening here."

"Oh no we aren't. My biggest pet peeve with campaigning is that we don't get the time to soak up any of the atmosphere of the places that we visit. Neither of us has ever spent much time in New Orleans and we are going to immerse ourselves in some of local culture. I've been planning this birthday weekend, with help from the service of course, for quite a while now."

"Weekend? You mean we get more than just tonight?"

"Three nights and three days. I made a deal with the devil."

"The devil?" He frowned.

"Bruno"

"What kind of deal did you have to make to get these three days?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Abbey began unzipping her garment bag. "So, any requests on what I should wear tonight?"

"Anything sexy, as long as you don't wear underwear."

****

"Abbey, you're going to swelter in that get up."

Abbey glanced over at her husband, completely aware that he was disappointed and unimpressed with what she had chosen to wear for the evening. The long black linen tunic was hardly the sexy outfit that he'd asked for.

"Really? You think so?"

"This isn't New England, Abs. I've spent the past week in this godforsaken heat, it NEVER cools off."

"Oh, I don't think I'm going to have much of a problem staying cool."

"Okay, but don't say that I didn't warn you."

****

Jed had been right about the heat. Despite the fact that the sun had gone down, the wall of breath stealing opressive heat hit them as soon as they departed their hotel. It was amazing how fast one started to perspire in that kind of humidity. Abbey pulled the tunic away from her skin, fanning herself to create a breeze that was absent in the dead night air. Even the smells were different here. She was a New England girl, born and raised on the sharp clean scent of pine trees, the crisp scents of bracing ocean or mountain air, the soft subtle scents of lilacs and beach roses. The air here was heavy, not bracing and fortifying. It carried on it the earthy, slightly swampy smell of the Mississippi River and the sultry fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle and other flowers that Abbey could not name.

But, the difference was not only in the smell of the place, it was in its very atmosphere. In New Orleans every night was a party and that raucous party atmosphere was prevalent everywhere. Abbey stared out the half open window of their unmarked car with fascination. What she had really wanted was horse and carriage tour, but the service had shot that request down as fast as she'd made it. It was just too dangerous. So, instead they had to settle for a police escort and an unmarked sedan, but anything was better than the huge motorcade that usually accompanied Jed.

The French Quarter was filled with narrow streets and alleys and low brick buildings with lacy iron balconies and stucco courtyards. They passed the corner edge of Bourbon Street and got a hint of the unrestrained decadence of the area. On Bourbon Street any type of sexual depravity could be fulfilled. There were strip clubs, sex shops, transvestite shows, fortune telling parlors, and even a voodoo shop advertising for people to stop in and get their gris-gris there. Abbey grinned as she saw a sign flashing in a tattoo parlor.

"Want to stop?" She asked, Jed.

"What?" He turned from gawking at a sex toy display in a store window to see what his wife was looking at. "You want another tattoo?"

"Not me. YOU. I did it for you…" she cajoled.

"What, you want me to get a heart on my arm that says 'mother'."

"Hardly," she scowled. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Property of Abbey Bartlet' written across your butt."

"You want to own my butt."

"I do own your butt, sweetcheeks. Don't you know that by now."

Jed grinned at her and they both continued to watch the revelry of Jackson square pass by their windows. The street performers, saxophonists, and brass bands competed with the mimes and tarot card readers for attention at the edge of the park, and as they passed Preservation Hall they could hear the sounds of trumpets and trombones blaring through the open windows of the building. It was so alive. Abbey had never been in a city that reveled so completely in being so sinfully sexy. It was a long way from prim, proper, puritanical Boston.

Before long the car pulled up in front of a small dark smoky little jazz and blues club. It was one of the few places not crowded with people.

"Where is everyone?" Jed asked.

"I rented the place for the night," Abbey told him as they entered the club. Their bodies were already thrumming to the beat of the soulful music coming from the main room.

"Why'd you rent it?" He asked.

"Cause I didn't want the public seeing me dressed like this." Abbey slipped off the long tunic and Jed's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She stood before him in a tight plum colored mini skirt and black nearly thigh high leather boots with a four-inch heel. But it was her chest that his eyes were riveted to. She wore a completely sheer opaque black blouse and it was very clear that she was not wearing a bra. The plum colored bolero jacket that she wore over it had only one button and that one was at the waist. The wide-open lapels barely covered her nipples but revealed almost the entire swell of her breasts. Jed's breathing got a little faster. She had to know that the jacket was even more tantalizing because he couldn't keep his eyes off of her, waiting to see if the jacket would move just a tiny bit and reveal her rosy nipple.

"Sexy enough for you, Mr. President?" she asked coquettishly. It was an outfit she never would have considered wearing in Boston or Washington, or even New York City. But, there was something about New Orleans, something about the carnality that oozed out of its very pores that made her comfortable in her wildly risqué attire.

"You're lucky I don't throw you in the coat room and have my way with you," he growled.

"There will be plenty of time for that later. You just need to show a little of that New England restraint."

"Honey, all my restraint went right out the window the minute you took off that coat. You're lucky you didn't give me a heart attack. Christ, if Bruno or Leo had seen you dressed like this they never would have let you leave the hotel."

"Why do you think I wore the tunic?" she smiled slyly. "You don't have to worry, we have the place to ourselves, neither the press or the public will see me dressed like this.

They had an enjoyable evening at the club, listening to the interesting combination of artists performing renditions of Irma Thomas and Guitar Slim, of Louie Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton while they had drinks. An acoustic jazz ensemble played while they dined on traditional Cajun fare of hot and spicy jambalaya, gumbo, and blackened catfish. By the time they were sharing a dessert of bourbon pecan pie and coffee, soft piano music filtered over them.

They had been content to sit and hold hands chatting and listening to the music, but when a lovely young African American woman took the stage to sing some of Billie Holiday's sultry hits, Jed stood and asked Abbey to dance. Abbey smiled and took his hand, but paused for a moment to unbutton her jacket, sliding it off to reveal the sheer backless tank blouse that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her shoulders and back were bare and he could see her nipples through the sheer fabric. He watched them harden not knowing if it was from his heated looks or the air conditioning. He watched her turn and head toward the dance floor her hips swaying in the tight short skirt. Her legs looked about a mile long in those boots.

"My God, woman, you have a body that could raise the dead." He pulled her into his arms.

"Not quite the June Cleaver image Bruno is shooting for, is it."

"Cupcake, when you dress like this it astounds me that you are anyone's mother. That's what Bruno should be promoting. He should be showing ALL American woman that you can be a career woman and a mother and STILL be sexy as hell."

"You want to go to him with that proposal?"

"Nah," he sighed. "He doesn't think that America is really ready for this side of you yet."

"We'll just keep it our little secret for a while longer." She smiled up at him then laid her cheek on his chest, nuzzling into his throat where his shirt was unbuttoned.

"It's very clear
Our love is here to stay;
Not for a year
But ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone and the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies,
And in time may go.
But, oh my dear,
Our love is here to stay;
Together we're going a long, long way.
In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble,
They're only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.

Jed raised his knee sliding it between Abbey's thighs, pressing his own thigh into the juncture of her legs. He felt her fingers dig into his upper arms, felt her press against his leg.

"Abbey, I wanna go back to the hotel."

Abbey nodded, her eyes heavy lidded. "Let's go."

Jed couldn't help but notice the effect that his wife's attire had on the normally stoic secret service agents. Eyes widened with surprise when she stepped into the outer hall of the club then followed her every move.

"Ron, you can shut the door now," he told the head of his detail.

Ron gave a start at having been caught staring into the sedan at the First Lady, who at the moment looked more like a Storyville call girl, albeit an elegant one, than a sedate First Lady.

For the first time since he had taken office, Jed saw his normally unflappable agent blush deep red and loose his cool composure.

"Uh…yes, sir. Where…ah…where too now?"

"Back to the hotel, Ron." Sometimes it drove him nuts when men ogled his wife, but at other times, God help him, it filled him with a sort of possessive male 'look what I got' pride. He knew that he was envied, that men all over the world wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with his wife and it was a heady feeling to know that he was the only one who would ever know.

****

More ogling occurred at the Place D'Armes when they returned to find Bruno and Leo and the senior staff waiting for them. As predicted Bruno went ballistic, only calming when he'd been informed that Abbey had not been in public dressed as she was. While Bruno let off steam, Leo's eyes made a slow appraisal up the length of Abbey's body. She looked like some kind of sex goddess and that certainly wasn't making it any easier not to want her. His wide, stunned eyes moved from her high heeled leather boots up long slender legs to the shapely hips her mini skirt clung to before finally coming to rest on her breasts in the nearly transparent top. But, this time he was not alone, in fact, the looks were so intense that Jed turned to throw Abbey's tunic over her shoulders to shield her. Once the outrage over her attire had been expressed and dismissed, Bruno informed Jed that they needed a few minutes.

"Bruno," Abbey protested. "We had a deal. I'm supposed to have tonight."

"You'll still have tonight. I promise. We just need 10 minutes max. We have to go over a comment Ritchie made on the trail today so Sam can write a comeback and CJ can fire it off."

"TEN minutes," Abbey said, firmly. "Or all deals are off." She turned and went into the bedroom with a sexy little huff.

"No wonder he doesn't need porn," Josh observed with a whisper to Sam. "Mini skirts and stiletto boots…damn…"

"I heard that Joshua," Jed flashed him a stern look.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"And you," he turned to Bruno. "What kind of a deal did you make with my wife?"

"All due respect, sir. I value my life. You'll have to ask her."

There were times when even the President of the United States could feel totally impotent to the forces surrounding him and tonight it was his own wife who was wreaking havoc with his authority.

TBC...