Chapter 2

The young waitress would be disappointed.

Though at first, she didn’t realise that Jennifer had left her fifty dollars as a tip.

She knew that, the Russian was going to ‘fuck’ the policewoman, and that was frustrating.

And so, she watched Dominique leave with Cheyenne in silence. The look on the waitress’ face though, had not escaped either the Russian or the policewoman as they headed to the door...

“So much for the preliminaries huh...?” observed Cheyenne. Dominique nodded.

Pausing, Cheyenne glanced back at the waitress and smiled. She shouldered her issue handbag.

“I rather think,” suggested Dominique, “That she wanted you to ‘fuck’ her, don’t you, Cheyenne?”

It was beneath the Russian to even contemplate ‘sex’ with a waitress. Nonetheless, she accepted that many wealthy lesbians preferred a little ‘rough’ with somebody like the waitress,

“I rather thought,” Cheyenne replied, “That it’s you who really wants to ‘fuck’ me, Dominique?”

“Touché...” Dominique answered – Constable Cassandra Johnstone was waiting by the front door.

Shoulder-length burgundy hair. Her eyes hidden beneath the brim of her baseball0style uniform cap. But like Cheyenne, her short-sleeved uniform shirt seductively unbuttoned and worn tight,

“This is Miss Dominique, Cassandra...”

The younger policewoman stood to attention...

“You will show Miss Dominique here, every courtesy...” Cheyenne ordered. Cassandra nodded,

“Constable Johnstone’s also at your disposal, Dominique – satisfaction guaranteed if you know what I mean?”

Betraying no emotion, Cassandra opened the front door to ‘The Mayfair’ Club for Dominique,

“You seem to have good taste when it comes to police ‘cunt’...?” the Russian observed – Cheyenne looked back for Jennifer. Pausing in the doorway, Dominique turned to Cassandra,

“I can almost taste you, Constable Johnstone?” she whispered in the younger policewoman’s ear,

“Ma’am...”

Dominique stepped outside. Cheyenne and Jennifer then followed - Cassandra the last to leave...

“Well now...?”

Dominque Elena Tarasova stared across at the state parliament house.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Walking from the ‘Mayfair’ Club, she was glad to be out of the ‘Old Money’ atmosphere at last - a Melbourne institution, ‘The Mayfair’ was no place for a former Soviet policewoman from Russia...

“It seems so wrong, doesn’t it?”: she commented, not really speaking to anybody in particular,

“Conservative politicians – lesbianism is still against the law in Victoria, is it not?”

“C’est le vie...” muttered Cheyenne – she took a gentle hold of Dominique’s arm.

Savouring the alluring scent of the Russian’s own perfume, she ushered Dominique towards the car,

“It is what it is, Dominique – I do so enjoy Givenchy Amirage?”

Dominique nodded. She rather liked the older policewoman’s ‘Tommy Girl’ perfume too.

“So...?”

They paused, looking back into ‘The Mayfair’ Club and smiled at each other.

In sight of parliament, ‘The Mayfair’ was the centre of lesbianism in Melbourne.

And, both Dominique and Cheyenne appreciated the irony.

Inspector Cheyenne Kensington had done her homework as well.

“Who would’ve thought eh...?”

The daughter of a former Politburo member, she had grown up in Soviet Russia and experienced the transition to the Russian Federation,

“Capitalist ‘whores’...” Dominique joked, slipping her sunglasses back on.

Within a stone’s throw of the Victorian Parliament, ‘The Mayfair’ Club had long been regarded as a bastion of Liberal/National Party politics - ‘Old Money’ and privilege now coupled with conservatism?

Yet in reality, the lesbian undertones, were far more obvious than any conservative politics,

“In more ways than one, Dominique...?” whispered Cheyenne.

Prime Minister Tony Abbott had reversed the policy on homosexuality - lesbianism was now illegal and both cunnilingus’ and ‘fellatio’ prescribed as ‘Gross Indecency’ under the recently revised Crimes Act.

Yet here was the most celebrated female police officer in the Victoria Police ‘flirting’ with her...

“Ma’am...?” a female voice called.

Constable Cassandra Johnstone stood by the unmarked police car,

“Miss Tarasova...?”

The young policewoman had the rear door open on the passenger’s side.

.Dominique hesitated – Cassandra had felt uncomfortable standing in the foyer of ‘The Mayfair’ Club,

Shoulder-length burgundy hair. Short-sleeved policewoman’s uniform shirt. Equipment belt with what appeared to be all the requirements - ‘Smith & Wesson’ .38 Revolver, handcuffs pouch and capsicum spray with a ‘Viper’ spring-loaded baton,

“Cassandra...” Cheyenne acknowledged.

There was a moment of silence.

A tram rumbled passed the building - Jennifer waited for Cheyenne and Dominique to get into the car.

She would ride in the front passenger’s seat beside Cassandra,

“Cassandra...,...” repeated Cheyenne – she beckoned Dominique into the unmarked police car,

“Not quite your ‘cup of tea’ then, Cassandra?” Dominique asked – Cassandra shrugged...

.”Nor mine either, Constable Johnstone...” Dominique then confessed.

“A little too expensive for my tastes, Miss Tarasova?” the younger policewoman sighed, removing her baseball-style uniform cap,

“And, I rather think my uniform is not the accepted dress too?”

Politicians. Bureaucrats. Toorak socialites and wealthy businesswomen. Her Honour, Judge Maree D’Urberville of the Victorian Supreme Court and ‘Underworld’ lawyer, Sarah Garde-Wilson...

“Lesbianism’s now illegal...” the policewoman hissed, tugging at the sleeve of her uniform shirt,

“Illegal for a female ‘pig’ like me that is, Miss Tarasova?”

“Dominique please...” the Russian corrected, taking hold of the policewoman’s arm...

“D-Dominique...” Cassandra acknowledged with a nervous smile.

“Not for them in there, Dominique?” the young policewoman hissed.

The crisp pale-blue fabric of the policewoman’s shirt lightly caressed at Dominique’s skin, sending a shiver through the thirty year old brunette from Minsk - Prime Minister Tony Abbott had challenged President Vladimir Putin of the Russian Federation over the downing of Malaysian MH 71 over the Ukraine. Yet for all his political posturing, the conservative leader of Australia was no better than Putin when it came to the likes of Constable Cassandra Johnstone and her taste for ‘pussy’...

“We better get a move on, Dominique?” suggested Cheyenne., The Russian nodded.

Raising her free hand slowly, she pressed a fingertip to Cassandra’s lips.

“Shall we go then?” queried Jennifer.

“Da...” Dominique agreed.