Chapter 1: The Minority Leader Is Dead
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Fiction, Violent,
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Minority Leader Is Dead - The Senate minority leader, along with his lover, are found shot to death. Under pressure, a high school boy attempts to blackmail the president's older daughter with a sexually explicit video. The minority leader's wife, who has long shared her husband's opposition to the president in office, finds her own views changing. Ignoring her own safety to protect the daughter of a president whose policies she despises brings this jaded Washington operator a moment of stunning clarity. Brief violence.
A Note to the Reader
Except where indicated otherwise, this story takes place in Washington, DC. Some of the characters are in politics, and thus they might be mistaken for real people. Even when they appear to occupy real political offices or government positions, however, they aren’t real people. They are products of the author’s imagination. They are fiction.
THE SENATE MINORITY LEADER WAS dead. No two ways about it.
“They really got him,” said the tall cop.
The slim cop wearing an old sweatshirt with “Mountain Rescue SAR” on the back stood silently. Her eyes made a slow circuit of the room.
“Over there.” She pointed to a nick in the frame of the door. “Looks like he got one shot off.”
The tall cop bent close to the frame.
“But where’s the slug?”
The Mountain Rescue cop slipped past him and down to the end of the hall. She touched the far doorframe where there was a chunk torn from the jamb, and turned to look back at the bedroom doorway and the tall cop.
She stretched and scratched absently. The tall cop watched, and she flushed when she realized he was looking where she was scratching.
“Knock it off, Larry.”
“What? I wasn’t doing anything.”
“No? Want me to share with Louise?”
The tall cop laughed.
“Oh, I think she might enjoy it, Suzanne.”
Suzanne felt a little tingle when she heard that. Louise. Blonde hair. A compact package. A hugger. She thought for a second about the times when she and Steve and Louise and Larry had gone out drinking and how Louise’s smiles and body language and hands seemed to invite something more, Suzanne smiled. Oh, yes, Louise might just like sharing very much. Suzanne looked straight at Larry and deliberately scratched under her other breast. Larry squirmed.
“Go right ahead and tell her, Larry.”
“But in the meantime, what do we do with the late Senate minority leader?”
Their assignment that afternoon had been an informal one, hence her well-worn sweatshirt and his equally casual dress, but the two detectives were closest when the radio call reporting something wrong at the minority leader’s house had come in.
Her question to Larry was rhetorical. The dinner reservation protocol existed precisely for this. Suzanne punched a key on her cell phone, thinking that this was going to be a nightmare. On the other hand, there was the dead woman in bed with the late minority leader to think about. She smiled to herself, and canceled the call.
“What is it, Suzanne?”
Larry was looking her in the eye for once.
“The girl, Larry?”
The “girl” was forty-five years old, at least. The minority leader liked them seasoned.
“What do we do about her?”
“What do you mean, ‘do about her, ‘ Larry?”
“Do we make a dinner reservation for her, or for them?”
Suzanne let her eyebrows rise. “Are you kidding?”
Larry looked down at the floor and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“No. I mean, what... ?”
Suzanne broke in. Sometimes Larry could be really obtuse. “We call the Post, Larry.”
She laughed. “We call them first, too.” She punched another key on her phone.
Larry could hear indistinct but rapid talk.
“Yeah. The minority leader.”
Suzanne looked at Larry.
“Uh huh. That’s who I mean, Deidre. None other.”
“There’s a bonus, too.”
More gabbling. Suzanne laughed.
“No such luck, sweetie. As far as I know his wife is safe, probably off with you-know-who. No, I mean forty-something, Asian, a little on the heavy side, a wrinkle here and there.”
“The best part, Deidre? A little surprise on her boobs and belly.” Suzanne laughed. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, kiddo. Bring a photographer. After that, it’s open season.”
She hung up. Turned to the tall cop.
“That’s how it’s done, Larry.”
“OK, can we go over this again, Suzanne?”
She and Larry were having a post-shift drink at their favorite bar. Deidre and her photographer partner had shown up at the minority leader’s townhouse no more than eight minutes after Suzanne’s call. Fuck the so-called dinner reservation folks, the Metropolitan Police Department’s protocol for taking care of the right people with maximum discretion. Every police force in the country did it, of course, but in Washington, DC the “right people” population was a large one and the MPD had it all down pat. No. Not this time. This deserved as much coverage as the Post was willing to give. Not five minutes after Deidre and her photographer had cleared out the coroner’s man and the crime scene techs arrived.
“What do you want to know, Larry?”
“For starters, what’s the deal with Deidre and the Post?“
Suzanne swallowed half her beer.
“I hate hypocrites. Let me put it this way: what his party said they stood for and what they actually did failed to match, in my book.”
She paused. Took a deep breath.
“Thanks to members of his party in the state legislature back home and their so-called family values, my cousin back home couldn’t find a local doctor when she needed one to terminate her high-risk pregnancy, and she died in childbirth. The baby didn’t survive, either.”
Suzanne shook her head as if to clear it.
“I hate them. I hate their politics.”
She took another swallow and slammed her now-empty glass on the table. She heard herself talking too much but she didn’t care and she couldn’t stop.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance. And it’s a bonus if I can do anything to make sure everyone knows what’s happened, who was in bed with him, I mean. That’s where Deidre comes in. She’s smart and she’s quick and she’s nobody’s fool. Another drink?”
“I’ve had enough, Suzanne.” His eyes said she’d had enough, too.
“Fuck it, Larry. Fuck ‘em all.”
“Suzanne, I’m taking you home with me. Our shift tomorrow starts late. You don’t need to go back to that hole you call an apartment.”
She knew he was right but she didn’t want to admit it.
“Yeah, OK. What about Louise?”
“She’ll be glad to see you.”
“After you’ve sobered up, that is. Our couch is yours. Watch out for the cat. She likes company.”
“I like cats.”