Redemption
Copyright© 2016 by Bondi Beach
Chapter 7: Vladimir
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 7: Vladimir - 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.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Fiction Violence
Friday afternoon
AMERICANS WERE SUCH IDIOTS, VLADIMIR thought to himself. The kid, Josh, he’d been even dumber than the others. Fell into their laps, practically, thanks to Stefan and his easygoing manner, his good looks, his ability to make friends without seeming to try. Just enough older than these high school kids to lead them but not too old to make them skittish.
It was easy to share pictures. Never mind that Stefan’s so-called cousins and classmates, and the girl he said was his sister, were nothing of the sort. It wasn’t hard to find girls today back home who would do almost anything for money. And these American kids, awash in porn, still wanted more. Easy to find the right idiot, too, and before he knew it Josh had the pictures and video of that girl, the daughter.
Vladimir laughed to himself. As if he really cared about Josh’s dad or his business, like Stefan had dropped a word here and there. No, his mission was the president, and compromising the daughter was the right way to go. Whatever crap the president had to worry about was nothing compared to the girl. No father who cared about his daughter would ignore this, and no question she mattered to him. Every distraction counted, the bigger and more personal, the better.
There was a side benefit, too. To put it plainly, the girl was flat-out hot. He’d watched the tape more than once and idly speculated about selling the video back home. Later, perhaps. For now he had the problem of Ed and his so-called militia. As a group they were about as effective as a bunch of drunk squirrels, but at least one or two seemed to have had real military training, and they came pretty cheap. Best of all, except for Ed none of them had ever seen him or knew who he was. There was no way to connect him with whatever they did or didn’t do.
The thing with the politician, a little side job that fell into Vladimir’s lap a couple of weeks ago, had gone OK, according to Ed. The old fart got off one shot but they’d been lucky, Ed said, his aim was terrible. Ed didn’t have anything to say about why they’d shot the woman in the face. Vladimir didn’t care. It was Ed’s problem, if it was a problem at all.
In the meantime there was the cleanup on the whole tape thing to finish, and it wasn’t going very well.
Ed knew enough never to ask the man too many questions. The guy said he was from Brooklyn and maybe he was, but his accent and his name suggested he, or at least his family, came from somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic. Ed checked his watch. Better hurry it up. Like most bosses or wannabe bosses, Vladimir didn’t like to be kept waiting.
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