“Ah, Graham. We need to talk. It’s important!”
“Good evening to you too Tittie” Tittie was his diminuitive for his young, increasingly simply trophy, wife. “If it’s about your brother Freddie; [she nodded] already heard. I need a whisky before I sit down and listen to the story as you’ve heard it”
“Graham! This is important!”
“That’s why I need the whisky”
He poured himself a generous measure of Tomintoul, looked for some water. She tutted and went and got him some, knowing he would not settle until he had his whisky and water. Then she launched into what he, Freddie, had told her. Freddie was Shadow Defence Secretary; having served in Iraq, Sierra Leone and Luxembourg he knew both the front end stuff of fighting and the backend diplomacy crap. He was widely seen as a very, very high flier in the Labour Party. Champagne Socialist perhaps, but still good at what he did and with broadly socialist principles (backed by family money). So being caught on camera by The Daily Mail in a room with three (albeit high-class) escorts and apparently sniffing ‘a substance’ was not good news. Tittie had heard it from Freddie, he had reduced the number to one escort and suggested he had taken a harmless legal high. She had vaguely asked if legal highs were still legal – she was young, pretty and blonde, but she wasn’t stupid or ignorant. She gave him some details Graham Swift QC hadn’t heard yet; the address in Knightsbridge, and the name of one of the escorts. He gave her a few details he had heard.
“But it can’t have been three, I mean there was only Freddie, how could he? I mean?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he could ... but you’re right, it begs a question doesn’t it? Was he actually alone?
If this is all proved, and The Mail seems to be confident enough to say it will publish even if he threatens to sue ... well after that payout to Jeremy Corbyn for suggesting he was a paedophile I think they are being more careful for a while ... well, look, if it’s proved his career is over. Can’t see him – the honourable, anti-drugs, straight-up guy – managing to ride over the charge of hypocrisy, let alone the legal side. Oh ... and ... well there has been a suggestion that one of the girls was very young.”
“Very, very young”
“Farck!” Tittie was well bred and didn’t do rude words in brutal Anglo-Saxon, she used the Queen’s English which was sometimes amusing when people tried to understand what she meant by ‘hame’. “But he wouldn’t have known that. I mean what is the agency doing sending such young girls out”
“Maybe that is just a salacious addition. I got this from Sir Reg” - Reginald Farquar-Harrison QC MBE – “not a fan of Labour who got it from Lord Wilmen, who heard it from an unnamed source. And that raises a question too – how come Lord Wilmen had it? He’s bluer that The Blessed Margaret was. Why would he be the first to hear?
All very strange”
“Graham! This isn’t one of your murder mysteries. This is my brother! He needs your help”
“My help? I’d say he needs God’s help. I can’t see how he can escape this”
“Look, just because he’s your brother doesn’t make it possible to work miracles. If he’s guilty, and frankly I suspect he is in it up to his neck, then he’s guilty. End of!”
“Why do you think he’s guilty?”
“Well, let’s see? You remember the stash of porn he had in his flat?” – “Everybody has porn these days” – “Some of his were homemade videos, and then there is his MC” – “What?” – “He once told me that he got that more because he was a high as a kite and didn’t know he was storming their position, not because he was unbearably brave; look, you did ask”
“Graham, are you jealous? Oh, never mind if you are. Look, he needs the advice of the best QC there is – that’s you.”
“I’m the youngest, not the best. But thanks for the vote anyway. I’d advise him to come clean.”
“You aren’t helping. Look, if you help him, we’ll do that thing you wanted. There, I’ve said it!”
“You mean sailing in Greece? Tempting, but, well...”
“No, that bedroom thing! Get serious!”
“Oh, you mean if I get naughty elder brother off, you’ll give me a blow job?” Antonia – Tittie since she was four and read the Swallows and Amazons – shuddered.
“Please, there is no need to be so crude!”
“That wasn’t a yes or a no. Are you saying you’ll give me a bl-; okay you’ll suck me off? No? You’ll go down on me? Is that better?
You are being a difficult witness my love”
“You aren’t in court! But yes, I’ll do that thing. I’ll give you oral relief; but you have to get him off”
“Hmm, nice phrase ... but no. You’re saying if I get him off and let his career soar I get one blow- ... one oral relief. Doesn’t sound a very good deal does it?”
“You aren’t negotiating with one of you questionable customers now; this is family!”
“And yet you’re the one who opened the bidding.
No, look if I get him free I’ll expect a liberal bedroom regime where I am the king.”
“You mean I do whatever you want? Dream on. You asked for some seriously weird stuff when we married”
“No, I asked for a normal sex relationship.”
They had married three years ago, he was thirty two, she was ten years his junior; she came to one of his university talks for the law society of the university of -- in her final year doing English; she went because she fancied the secretary of the society that year; she was invited to join the group in the bar as some eye candy and Graham had been taken by the fact she was good looking and not a law student intent on impressing him with some obscure legal fact. A year later they married and young Miss Starr became Mrs Swift. Unfortunately it rapidly became clear that Miss Starr the fragrant Infant school teacher was as conservative in bed as she was in her dress (lovely floral prints and wide smiles for the little ones). She liked sex, as long as it was ‘proper’ sex. She didn’t masturbate, she didn’t do doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl or spooning; she did missionary and that was it. She expected to get orgasms from it – which put massive pressure on Graham to deliver – but she didn’t seem wholly upset if she didn’t orgasm much. She found ‘satisfaction’ in ‘making love’. Men needed it more, according to her, and she liked the occasional climax – say one a month. Graham suggested other positions but was rebuffed; he suggested cunnilingus and ‘the other way’ - she didn’t know what that was, he had to explain – he was very firmly rebuffed. He suggested anal; he had to sleep in the spare room. He had brought up oral sex a few times but with no lessening of her refusal. Now he found that because the favourite elder brother was in trouble the negotiations were opened.
So, tempting as the offer was, he was affronted that his desires and needs weren’t enough to get things started; but Freddie’s were. That made it easier to refuse her offer to wrap her lovely red lips round his stiffy and suck him dry. Actually if she had said that in those words to him, he would probably have accepted. The very thought of her using such erotic words would make him hot. But this was why his wife was increasingly just a trophy. She was even better looking than when he married her, she looked great on his arm; but the loving relationship was a bit barren.
“I asked for a normal sex relationship” he said
“Let’s not argue” was her reply. He’d made that crack about sex once before and she had gone ballistic; this time she said nothing. She must really want some help. There was one of those brief silences that seem to last long enough for continents to drift apart. “Okay you win.”
“And I get the oral for trying, even if I fail.”
“Oh no, you get nothing for failing.” He had the impression that ‘nothing’ included the sparse missionary position sex they had now. So, that was their positions – win and the world is full of multi-coloured and delightful sex; lose and the world turns grey for ever. He wasn’t happy with this since he really wasn’t sure what he could do.
“Okay, get Freddie to come over will you? First thing is to get the story from the horse’s mouth” She nodded and smiled, she loved Freddie but he was still her brother; she would enjoy seeing and hearing him squirm. She rang and he offered to come over that very evening. That suited Graham, he suspected that a scoop like this would get splashed at the weekend; that gave them three days to come up with a defence.
Two hours later Freddie came into the drawing room. Graham smiled and nodded, then he looked at Tittie “Darling, could you rustle up some coffee? We’ll need clear heads rather than alcohol muddied ones” She was back in ten minutes, hardly a word had been said yet. “Thanks, ... oh look, Tittie, now I’m afraid we’ll have to say goodbye to you dear. This is by way of a professional consultation after all” She stomped out, furious. “I assume you’ll find it easier to talk without your sister here?”
“Yes, thanks; and thanks for seeing me. God what a mess!”
.... There is more of this story ...