She wondered what the rest of the residence looked like; her access was limited to the sitting room, the president’s bed and bathrooms, and the kitchen. As if she were a concubine or a house pet. Mimi convinced herself that none of this mattered. Just as it didn’t matter that the president never kissed her. Just as it didn’t matter that she only ever called him Mr. President, even though they were regularly having sex. Just as it didn’t matter that he never told her to call him anything else, that he never told her he loved her or cared about her. It was okay, really. Mimi was nineteen and a
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