Mr Prime Minister by Sophie Quinn
Description
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About the author:
Sophie is a young self-published writer from a far away land. She preferes to remain in anonymity for recognition takes a lot of work
What inspired you to write your book?
A lot of British humour Romantic Comedies and books!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Ok… Ok, I can do this… I can do this! Who cares about prescription, right?! My life’s crappy at the moment, but it’s worth something, and it’s definitely more than a stupid package of Oxy.
“Alright…” I muttered, my hands up so he could see I was ready to cooperate “You can take the package, no charge. Here” I took it out of my white coat and handed it to him.
He took it and quickly hid it under his coat. He walked with his back to the front door, and once there, he turned on the inside lock. Oh, shit…
“I want more. I want Vico and whatever else you have with some Vike and Oxy.” He demanded, the gun still pointed right at me “And all of you, down!”
The costumers were trembling, some old women wincing. I saw Mrs Martin squint and Mrs Kyle shake as the man with the gun started to make people sit on the floor.
“It’s the pills you want.” I stammered, my hands up again “And I’ll give them to you, just let the costumers go.”
“Shut your hole and get me what I told you!” His finger slid to the trigger.
People yelled, some cried, and even the cold blooded Mrs Martin gasped.
“Alright.” I swallowed hard “I’ll get them.”
“I’ll get them” Gavin interrupted, coming from behind his cashier to meet me.
“Stop right there, nigger!” The drug addict grunted, and pointed his gun at my friend; Gavin stopped, his hands up and his mouth pressed tight “I asked the lady doctor!”
“I’m taller, I get to the shelves faster than she does” Gavin gestured with his head.
The drug addict frowned, thought about it for a few seconds and nodded.
“Fine. You, go. You” He snapped at me “step behind the counter and sit there. You too!” He yelled at Julia, whose big green eyes were the size of two bulbs.
I sat next to Mrs Martin and Mrs Kyle, and the latter immediately hugged me.
“Oh, my dear! Are you alright?”
“Of course she’s not alright, Gertrude!” Mrs Martin snorted “She had a gun to her head!”
“I’m calling the police” Julia whispered, taking the phone from her white scrub.
“Give me that!” The drug addict yelled, pointing the gun at my friend.
All the women around us shrieked, and Julia closed her eyes really hard, handing the man her blue cell phone.
“Oh, God! Are you alright, dear?” Mrs Kyle stammered.
“I’m fine, thank-”
“Not you!” Mrs Martin pointed to the man seated on the floor a few shelves away.
“He doesn’t look too good to me” Mrs Kyle assured.
I eyed him, same as Julia. He was panting, as in completely out of breath. His breathing was shallow, almost in a hiss. He had a dark blue tracksuit on, and a dark cap. Although I couldn’t see his face I saw a bit of his neck and it was really turning blue.
I crawled to sit next to him, shoving him to make sure he was still alive – maybe the poor guy didn’t take it and had a heart attack or something.
“Hey, there. Are you feeling alright?” I asked him.
The guy shook his head, and his pale blue hand showed me a small blue object.
“Shit.” I mumbled, eyeing the asthma inhaler; I grabbed it, shook it and cringed “Double shit. It’s fucking empty!”
“No… shit…” The guy’s shallow voice wheezed.
Well, at least he had a sense of humour…
“Mr…” I called the drug addict; I didn’t even know his name, for God’s sake…
“Yoo hoo!” Mrs Martin kicked the guy’s shin, to which he yelped and aimed the gun at her; everyone gasped, but Mrs Martin – bless her soul – remained calm “Miss Summers is calling you.”
“I need an asthma inhaler” I said immediately once the addict looked at me questioningly.
“Toughs” He tossed, waiting for Gavin to finish his very slow gather of meds.
By the way, where was Mr Crock? The little weasel was probably hiding in his office! He had the security cameras there, so he certainly knew what was happening. Mother fucker…! Well, at least I hoped he had called the police, by now.
“He’s asthmatic!” I grunted, getting up and not even wavering when the addict aimed at me again “You’re going to kill an innocent man over pills!”
“I don’t give a shit! Now sit down or you’ll get the first bullet!” He yelled.
“Just sit, damn it!” Another man snapped, one with a moustache, a round face and belly.
I was trembling with rage and fear, but obeyed.
“I’m really sorry!” I gasped at the panting man, grabbing his tracksuit jacket zipper and opening it “Here, sit straight.” I instructed, helping him as I talked “Try to calm down. Forget he’s even there” I waved at the man with the gun.
“Kinda… hard… to…” He panted with each shallow breath.
“I know…” I winced, smoothing his strong back “Just try…”
He nodded and tried to breathe. He wasn’t getting it…
“I’ll get you another inhaler.” I swore, frowning with rage “I promise. I’ll bargain with him.”
“He’ll… kill you” He panted really low.
“No, he won’t.” I assured him, taking off his cap so I could pass some comfort “I’ll get you an inhaler, don’t- Fucking shitting fruit cakes!” I gasped, jumping back.
“By George!” Mrs Kyle gasped herself.
Everyone around gasped as well, and everyone had a newly improved curse word to use.
“Well, fancy that…” Mrs Martin snorted, with her brows up on her wrinkled forehead.
“In… haler…?” The panting man wheezed, his blue eyes looking up at me with despair – his beautiful lips were starting to get blue as well.
“Mr Drugs.” I called, not taking my eyes off the man in danger – well, technically we were all in danger…
“I told you no!” He yelled, still not caring.
“I believe you’ll care about this” Mrs Martin snorted.
“You better let me get an inhaler, and fast, unless you want to be fried in the electric chair.”
“Do they even have that?” I heard Mrs Kyle ask her good friend Mrs Martin.
“If they don’t, I’m sure he would get one especially for this occasion” Mrs Martin chuckled, pointing at my new patient.
“You’ll want to help this man” I assured the drug addict.
“I really don’t give a shit-” He stopped once he eyed my way; he actually shrieked, like a little girl “Fuck! What the fuck?! Bloody hell! Who brought him here?! I’m not that high, am I?!”
“Only if we’re all high.” Mrs Martin shrugged “Which would actually be lovely, at this moment…”
“Inhaler. Now!” I grunted at the addict, putting my fingers on the panting man’s neck and checking his pulse was getting weak.
The drug addict made Julia get one from the shelves, and once she tossed me the blue thing, I quickly opened it, shook it and put it in the man’s mouth.
“Alright, now one big and long pull, Mr Prime Minister.”
The Prime Minister… The mother fucking Prime Minister was in my pharmacy! Well, Mr Crock’s pharmacy, but who cares about details, anyway?
Charles Whitehall, the youngest UK Prime Minister ever, at the young age of thirty two, being overpowered by only William Pitt, who was only twenty four at the time he attended Office. But who cares anyway?! He was definitely the sexiest ever! Tall, dark perfect hair, blue eyes and the most sexy and beautiful smirk in the entire Kingdom! Women swooned at the sight of him; girls started fan pages and wrote poems about him… He was the dream package: famous, powerful, rich and gorgeous! And he was asthmatic – which I don’t recall being said ever on TV or the tabloids.
“Alright, another pull” I sighed a few minutes later.
He behaved like the perfect patient, which was to be expected, in his state.
“How are you feeling?” I asked after a while.
“Better now.” He sighed, closing his eyes and bending a bit “Thanks to you.”
“Actually, it’s thanks to Salbutamol.” I chuckled “On the house.”
“Can I get those diet pills on the house as well?” Mrs Martin teased.
“Sure. I think the situation calls for a freebie” I winked at her.
“Mr Prime Minister?” Mrs Kyle called, and a very tired Charles Whitehall looked up to the old woman “I know this isn’t the best time for it… but I am really happy you made it into office.”
“Thank you.” The Prime Minister actually gathered the strength to smile “I appreciate your support.”
“I didn’t vote for him.” Mrs Martin shrugged “But he is one fine lad, he is.”
“Thanks” He chuckled, and then coughed, his breathing hissing again.
“Another go?” I asked.
“I will make you my next Deputy Prime Minister just for that” He assured me with a smile of his own.
I chuckled and obeyed.
“All done.” I heard Gavin sigh, handing the man a big black bag with the meds “Can you go, now?”
“How ‘bout some China Girl?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, man” Gavin sighed.
“Fentanyl.” He snapped back “Now.”
“That’ll kill you, you psycho!” Gavin grunted, but at the sight of a gun pointed to his chest he sighed “Fine. Gimme a minute.”
“You need an ambulance” I assured Prime Minister Whitehall.
“I’m fine.” He lied, letting his head fall to the shelve behind him, closing his eyes “Why don’t we talk about something?”
“Talk?”
Talk, talk… Something I’m pretty good at. Now, topic. Google. Search: Good topics to talk with the UK Prime Minister. Results: 0, and good luck with that.
“Do you watch football?” I asked, sitting by his side, massaging my temples at the damn headache.
“Don’t have much time” He shrugged.
“Right. Busy career. Wait a sec. If I’m talking with the Prime Minister I need some aspirin.”
I grabbed one of the boxes from the shelf behind me and popped two pills in my mouth.
“You know, if you get shot, now you’ll bleed quicker” Julia said in conversation.
“Let’s not choose the ‘Man with the gun’ subject” Prime Minister Whitehall tossed with a side smile.
“What about this economy, hey?” I grinned, taking a long drag of some energy drink; Julia asked me for the rest of the bottle and I rolled it her way.
“Do you like movies?” He suddenly asked.
“Sure. I love watching movies. I watch one every night, before bed” I admitted.
“Me too.” He smiled, his eyes still closed “What’s your favourite?”
“For real?” I blushed “Life’s beautiful. I know it’s cheesy.”
“No.” He frowned, opening his big blues at me “It’s a good movie. It’s got every element: tension, love, fear, hope and a moral. That’s a good choice.”
“Alright. What’s yours?” I asked, shrugging.
“The Godfather.”
“Which one? Don’t tell me the third one or I’ll empty the inhaler” I threatened, to which he actually chuckled.
“Second one. Better plot line, overall.” He shrugged “Best food?”
“Seriously?” I chuckled, crossing my legs and smiling at my camel Oxford shoes.
“We might as well talk about something, I don’t think our little friend has finished his shopping spree.”
“Fair enough.” I shrugged, smoothing my blue skirt with pretty white dandelions “Mum’s food. Nothing can beat my Mum’s food.”
“My mother was a great cook as well.” He took a deep breath and sighed at how easy it was, now “Mine’s anything Italian. Favourite book?”
“Harry Potter” I pursed my lips shut and blushed.
“No!” He actually laughed at me; then coughed.
“Suits you well.” I snorted, and let him suffer for a while, until his face turned red, to offer him another drag from the inhaler “Remember I’m the woman holding your life plug.”
“I won’t forget it.” He chuckled “The Iron Man. Not the superhero – although that’s an awesome movie – the book. Worst fear.”
“Being chopped by bloodsucking clowns.”
He laughed again, but this time I didn’t make him suffer for another pump.
“Alright, Mr Hot Shot Prime Minister…!” I raised my brow “What’s yours?”
“Disappoint my father” He sighed, low.
I frowned and eyed his stern face. Quentin Whitehall had been a minister of State about twenty years ago. Everyone knew what he really aimed for was the hot seat itself, but he never made it. He brought up his only son in the same profession, and achieved his own dream by watching Charles Whitehall become the chief of The Cabinet Office.
“I don’t believe you would, Mr Prime Minister” I frowned.
“Right.” He cleared his throat before looking at me again “Most embarrassing thing you can think of right now.”
“What, something that actually happened?” He nodded “Jesus… Alright… It’s not as embarrassing as in really stupid.” I warned “So I was thirteen, just chillin’ at home with Da. Mum was staying with my Aunt Doris – her sister – who’d had surgery. I woke up one morning, and went to the bathroom… and saw a huge blood stain on my Snoopy shorts. Of course, I knew I’d gotten my period.” I snorted “And I knew I needed pads. So I went downstairs and told my Da all about it. He was as flushed as a tomato, but went out shopping for it. He came back with a huge bag, and I was really happy, for I now had hundreds of pads to use. When I took it out of the bag…” I sighed, rubbing my eyes “They were old ladies diapers. As in huge diapers. I screamed at him, but he said they were all out of pads, and that he hadn’t spent fifty quid to let it go to the trash. And so, the following week I had to walk around, and go to school, with the pants on… It was embarrassing.”
“I don’t think I can top that” He chuckled.
“You’ll have to try” I demanded, shrugging.
“Very well.” He chuckled, probably remembering his own story “I can’t believe I’m telling this to someone… Alright, so I was having a very important dinner with the Chinese Office that came to visit a few months back.” He started; oh yes, so I spoke about pads and he had a Chinese Office story… really proportional “Everything was set, the Chinese Prime Minister was to sit next to me, but his wife was already sitting. And, well, I didn’t want to be rude, so I said, you know, it’s fine, I can sit somewhere else. I actually said ‘Wǒ zuò zài tā hòumiàn yī pái’ when what I really meant was ‘Wǒ huì zài tā shēnbiān zuò xià’. Basically, I told the Prime Minister of China ‘I’ll sit on top of her’ instead of ‘I’ll sit beside her’.”
“Is that true?” I asked, a serious look on my face.
“Unfortunately, yes. And it’s a secret of state” He warned with a raise of his brow.
I laughed my butt out, obviously. Ok, so maybe the pads weren’t so bad after all.
“If we ever get bombed by China, I’ll know why” I chuckled.
“They weren’t angry, they actually laughed throughout the whole dinner.” He shrugged with a chuckle “But I was so embarrassed I refused to speak a word of Mandarin with them.”
“You definitely win this round” I grin.
“Sounds fair. Most underrated band or singer.”
“Coldplay.” I snorted “No doubt.”
“Actually agree on that. Most overrated?”
“Oh, God, U2!”
“What?!” He gasped “That is blasphemy, Miss Summers!”
“I’m sure, but, A Man and a Woman?” I snorted, shaking my head “No, sorry but just no.”
“Fine.” He shrugged, still shaking his head in disbelief “I’ll say The Beatles.”
It was my time to gasp and get shocked.
“Yellow submarine killed most of my brain cells” He assured me.
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing…” I sighed “Fine. To each its own.”
“What’s-”
His next question was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering. Everyone yelled, and once there was a shot heard, I felt the Prime Minister drop his torso on top of me; his arms came around my shoulders as if to protect me from the bullets – which was really stupid; I mean I should be the one protecting him!
I heard men shouting, and felt myself being dragged outside the pharmacy. I didn’t see much, but there was a big commotion outside, with many police cars and even the Anti-terrorist unit was there! Well, the Prime Minister was being made hostage…
When they threw me in one of the ambulances with two other people from the pharmacy, we drove off and it all ended.
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In this hot new anthology, enjoy twenty-one explicit tales of lesbian love. From shoe fetish to opera gloves, sex in public to quiet winter mornings, from a taste of taboo to strap-on DP to extremes that shan’t be mentioned here to full-on Sapphic bukakke, even connoisseurs of fine girl-on-girl action are likely to discover a new idea or two in this sexy new collection.
Whether you can appreciate this book’s title ironically or you’re authentically curious about what girls who love girls do in bed (or in parked cars or at the office or in a church basement or in a restaurant bathroom), grab a copy today and get in on the nitty-gritty secrets of lesbian sex.
Giselle Renarde’s erotic fiction has appeared in over 100 anthologies, including prestigious collections like Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance, Best Women’s Erotica, Girl Fever, and the Lambda Award-winning collection Wild Girls, Wild Nights.
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