Redemption
Copyright© 2016 by Bondi Beach
Chapter 1: The Minority Leader Is Dead
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.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Fiction 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.
Wednesday afternoon
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.
“Here.”
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.”
She snorted.
“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.
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