Iris
Later, once Miles is asleep, I’m in my studio, preparing my supplies, when the studio door creaks open. Arthur steps into the room, wearing a plain t-shirt and trousers. I gesture to the seat I’ve prepared by the window.
“Take a seat. And take your shirt off.”
I busy myself with lining up my charcoals as he takes his seat, trying not to look when he grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and pulls it over his head.
But it’s impossible not to look.
Arthur was always muscular, the perfect Alpha physique incarnate. He always made time to work out, to eat healthy and look good. But I expected that, once he became President, he wouldn’t have time for such things.
I was wrong. Somehow, if the size of his muscular arms, chest, and back are any indication, he has ev
