Night Visitors

"Honey, I don't think we should be in here."
"Aw, come on sweetie. Your daddy's out of town."
"I know, but if somebody should catch us in here..."
"We can just say that we were in here looking for that earring you lost."
"Honestly, I don't think that will fool anybody."
"Well look, we're already inside. What's all the worry about?"
He reaches for a switch. "No! Don't turn on the lights."
He laughs. "If we don't turn on the lights, how are we going to find it?"
"Find what?"
"Your earring, silly." He pulls her close.
"Really? What makes you think you're going to find it there?"
"I don't want to leave an inch of this place un-examined."
"Oh, and you think I'll just - OW!"
"What?"
"You backed me right into the couch."
"Why is that thing even in here?"
"What?"
"The couch."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it's an office. This is where business is conducted."
"Sometimes daddy gets tired and he needs a rest."
"Yeah. I'll bet."
"You should be more grateful."
"Why?"
"After all he's done for you. For both of us."
"Ah, here we are." With one hand, he brushes the papers and the pen and pencil set to the floor.
"I don't think this is such a good idea."
"Oh, you can trust me. Your dad trusts me." He lifts her with surprising grace onto the horizontal surface.
"Honey, I don't think - Oh..."
Now they are both on the desk. Words are replaced by sighs and moans. Then, suddenly - CLICK.
"What was that?"
"What? Not now. What?"
"I hit something with the heel of my hand. Felt like a button."
She sits up, "A button."
"Yeah. Like a doorbell or something."
"Oh no.'
"Oh no what? Does it ring the butler, or security."
"No. It was The Button."
He slides off the desk and doesn't start to buckle his pants. "That Button."
"We are going to be in such trouble."
- Author's note: Fear not, dear reader. Donald Trump does not have "a button on his desk" that starts World War Three. It is far more complicated than that. Jared and Ivanka's late night tryst in the Oval Office will not be responsible for Nuclear Armageddon. It takes a complex series of codes and commands to launch a nuclear strike. And those codes are in the hands of this "President."
Sleep tight.