Politics

Chapter 5: Rebecca submits

"God, you look rough," Sally murmured. "Want me to hold the taxi when it arrives? Won't take you long to freshen up..."

"Didn't get much sleep," Thomas grumpily offered by way of explanation. What else could he say? Erika fucked me all night? That woman was insatiable.

It must have been around five o'clock before she allowed him to return to his room. That meant an hour's nap, a quick shower, and a room service breakfast while he made the call to Jack Murphy. They had an hour and a half to reach Belfast International airport and catch their Aer Lingus flight.

"Okay," he continued, taking her arm and pulling her to the quietest part of the foyer. "I spoke to our Irish newspaper friend."

The redhead's face became a picture of expectation. "Don't make me wait," she told him, dropping her hands to her hips. "And?"

Thomas felt a twitch in his groin. After her teasing come-on in the bar last night, he was seeing Sally in a different light. And she looked so sexy in that pose. The spaghetti straps of the tight, cream camisole top didn't cover the flowery bra straps and he could see the swell of her small, perky breasts when she leaned forward like that.

"Hey," she said, tugging his arm. "I'm up here! You feeling frisky this morning?"

"Frisky?"

"You're staring at my tits."

"No, I'm not," he growled. How the hell could he be feeling frisky after last night? "I... I just like that top."

"You just like my top?" she said, throwing her head back. For a second, he didn't know what to say, but Sally's burst of laughter saved him.

He gave a bashful smile.

"Sorry," he apologised, trying to think of anything other than sex. Tell her about his conversation with Murphy! "It's difficult to form an opinion, Sally. He's adamant his story is rock solid, but can't offer any facts to back it up."

"Or won't," the redhead pointed out, playfully ruffling her short hair.

"Or won't," he agreed, with a curt nod. Was she playing up to him now? "But I threw a few questions at him and there wasn't much depth in his answers. Either he's very clever, or the stuff he has in tenuous at best."

"He didn't seem very clever," Sally grinned.

Thomas laughed for the first time that morning. "Never judge a book by its cover, but in this case I think you might well be right. How did you do?"

"Drew a blank," the redhead replied, raising her eyebrows in that familiar way of hers. "As far as I can work out from everything I've been able to check, Alistair was everywhere but Ireland around that period. There was a European tour, a conference in Dubai, and he was part of a delegation to the States."

Thomas pursed his lips as he nodded thoughtfully. "Doesn't mean he didn't visit personally..."

"No, but from what I can tell, he didn't have much free time. Apart from the visits I've mentioned, he was heavily involved in preparations for the Party Conference. A visit to Ireland just doesn't seem to fit."

"Why am I getting the feeling that this is a set up? Okay," he said, glancing across to the lifts at the far side of the foyer. "Erika's heading over here now. Anything else?"

Sally followed his gaze across to the sexy Scandinavian. "Not a thing," she told him. "What now?"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "We've done our homework. We brief Erika first, then agree how we break it to Alistair."

"You tell her," Sally grinned, as the blonde walked towards them.

"Morning," the Scandinavian woman greeted them, her voice bouncing with energy. "Sorry, I'm late—phone call. God, Thomas, you look rough..."

"I've already told him," Sally laughed, turning to greet the blonde.

Erika smiled. "What have you been up to?"

He shot her a look that would have laid her low had it been a punch. Guilt was riddled through his body. He wasn't interested in mind games.

"Never mind," she said, dismissing the subject with an imperial wave of her arm. "I overheard Sally. What do you want to tell me?"

"Taxi," the redhead interrupted, acknowledging the wave from reception. "Maybe we should wait 'til we get to the airport?"

"Tell them we'll be there in a sec, would you, Sally?" Thomas asked, waiting until the diminutive woman headed for the reception desk. "Erika," he rasped, his eyes blazing with concern. "About last night..."

"Last night? Last night you did very well, tiger. But don't let it pray on your mind. It's our secret. Okay?"

He stared at her, trying to read her Swedish mind. Was that it? A one night fuck, with no repercussions? Was she really that cold? It suited him down to the ground to forget all about it. But could he trust her?

"Listen, Thomas," she said patiently, as if reading his mind. "It was sex, just sex. Nothing more, nothing less! I needed it and so did you, from your wholehearted performance."

He gritted his teeth at the patronising comment. "Erika..."

The hint of menace in her intense blue eyes stopped him. "The way I see it, is that if Alistair knew we'd fucked, your relationship with him would be at an end. And if Becky ever found out, I'd imagine you and she would be finished, too. So I promise you I'll say nothing, and suggest you do the same. Okay?"

Thomas could feel his fingernails cut into his palms as he clenched his fists. Somehow he'd expected more, though he had no idea what. Despite her arrogant dismissal, she was offering him a way out. Better to forget it, though that would be quite a feat. Particularly as every bone in his body felt the guilt.

"Good," she decisively said, taking his answer as read. Remorse was for the weak. "As for you and Sally wanting to talk to me, let's wait until we get to the airport, shall we?"

***

Rebecca hadn't expected Erika to call her so early that morning. Nor had she anticipated that her meeting with Guus Kessen would take place so quickly. It seemed the millionaire was flying to his villa in Monte Carlo this afternoon and this would be his only opportunity to see her for a few days.

It's up to you,

Erika had told her during their early morning telephone conversation.

Your final chance! I've done all I can. Don't go if you're not committed to doing what's necessary.

Do what's necessary!! The words had floated around her mind since Erika had ended the call in her rush to catch her airport taxi. But then those words had been with her since their conversation last night. She had an hour to get ready and reach his Mayfair offices. Her heart was racing. And not only because of the near realisation of her dream...

She

was

going to be unfaithful to her boyfriend in a way. Okay, she wasn't going to give herself to the Dutchman. She wouldn't allow him to fuck her. But she was going to suck his cock. For money! Like a high-class whore!! The thought already had her wet with anticipation. Now that her mind had come to terms with what was necessary to secure the finance, she realised she actually wanted this!

Deus

! She actually

wanted

to take the millionaire's cock in her mouth!

Yesterday had whetted her sexual appetite. So had her conversations with Erika. When she'd masturbated last night, she'd even fantasised about the blonde's kiss! She'd also recollected the feel of Kessen's hands on her tits. And recalled the sight of him exposing his thick manhood.

Only in last night's masturbatory fantasies, she had it in her mouth. Just like she would later this morning.

And being coerced into the act assuaged any guilt. After all, she wasn't being unfaithful. She could rationalise that she had no choice.

Erika had said that she should try again and persuade Kessen of the business sense in her proposition. She knew it was too late for that. She was heading for his office with one thought in mind. Thoughts of her illicit liaisons with married men in Brazil had returned. A fire inside her had been lit.

She actually

wanted

to be used.

***

The seats at the far side of the Executive lounge afforded a little privacy. Enough for Thomas to raise the subject. "Sally and I were approached by an Irish reporter yesterday. Confidentially."

"Jack Murphy," Sally added. "Belfast Telegraph."

"Yesterday?" Erika instantly responded. "You didn't mention this last night?"

Sally shot Thomas a look. It was late when they'd returned to their rooms last night and she'd invited him in for a drink. But they were so bushed after their long day, and he'd been anxious to call Becky.

So... he'd spent the night with Erika instead! No wonder he was looking so tired.

Why the hell hadn't Erika involved her? She had before. But only when it suited the blonde, it seemed. Damn, if it wasn't for the thrill that a threesome gave her, she'd turn the Swedish woman down the next time she asked.

Who was she kidding?

Her husband had occasionally mentioned a threesome, but that wouldn't quite be right. Besides, Jeremy just wanted to fuck another woman while she watched. With Erika, she was able to take part, lose herself. And losing herself with Thomas and the blonde would have been quite an experience.

Still, he wasn't quite the innocent that she thought he was. All that crap about being faithful! Well, he couldn't claim that one with her anymore. One thing was quite clear in her mind now. She'd fuck her fair-haired companion sooner or later. It was just a question of getting the situation and the timing right.

"He told us he had a story on Alistair," Thomas mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady. He knew that a blush was already spreading itself across his face under Sally's perceptive gaze. Fuck! The last thing he wanted or needed was for the redhead to have any suspicions.

"Story? What sort of story?" Erika snapped.

"Does the name Mary O'Leary mean anything to you?" he asked, forgetting Sally and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the sexy blonde. He needed to see if there'd be any hint of recognition. There wasn't.

"No. Should it?"

"Mary O'Leary is a young woman from Derry," he explained, feeling better that Erika seemed blissfully unaware of the name. That almost certainly meant the story was fabricated. "Jack Murphy's allegation is that she met Alistair over here, around eight months ago."

"He meets a lot of people," Erika responded with a frown. "Was he over here then? I can't recall us visiting Northern Ireland during the last year."

"I can't find any trace of him being in the country," Sally blurted, immediately backing off when Thomas's eyes widened at her. "Not that I've been able to carry out any sort of check," she mumbled, quickly catching on. They didn't want Erika thinking they'd gone behind her back.

"You used the word

allegation

," Erika slowly said, her eyes flicking between them as she began to realise the implications. "What does that mean?"

"It's not good news, Erika," Sally nervously blurted.

"She gives birth next month," Thomas added, coming straight to the point. "The suggestion is that Alistair is the father."

The instant silence hung over them, like a sudden fog engulfing the skyline.

"This is bullshit," Erika eventually rasped, her sexy Scandinavian lilt rising. "Absolute bullshit. How dare they suggest that?"

"Careful," Thomas interrupted, a roll of his eyes indicating they were attracting attention from passengers not too far away. He diplomatically lowered his voice, though it was the blonde who was in danger of being overheard. "First things first, Erika. We have to make Alistair aware, and get his reaction."

"Reaction?" the Scandinavian woman shot back, her intense blue eyes flicking from one to the other as her mind ran through the implications.

"We have to make sure he hasn't come across this woman..." he paused, the smirk in Sally's eyes warning him of the inadvertent play on words. "Whether he's met her before," he corrected, making a point of not looking at either woman.

"Of course he hasn't met her."

Thomas hesitated. "We're all pretty sure he hasn't," he slowly confirmed. "Which means we need to agree on our next steps."

"Next steps?" Erika snapped, glancing around her as she realised she'd raised her voice again. She lowered her tone instantly. "Why don't we simply ignore the meaningless trash?"

Thomas paused. As intelligent as she was, Erika wasn't thinking clearly. "As meaningless as it may be, we know the press. They'll hound us on this one and make a much bigger story if we don't give them something. We want them writing about Alistair's performance in the debate, not this crap."

"You're right," Erika slowly responded, thinking things through. "Absolutely! Doing nothing isn't an option. Okay, this is why we hired you, Thomas, what we pay you for. To deal with this horseshit! Your suggestion is?"

Having it instantly thrown on his shoulders was unexpected, but she was right. It

was

his responsibility. His and Sally's. Instinct told him the next steps.

"We discuss with Alistair and make sure he doesn't know this woman," he firmly responded, adding, "It makes sense, Erika," when the blonde's eyes flared at him. "Just to tick that box."

When the Swede nodded, he continued.

"Then I'll speak to Murphy again and refute the whole story. Maybe even throw in the suggestion of us suing, though I don't want to be too heavy handed at this stage."

"Be as heavy handed as you want," Erika snapped, tapping her fingers on the side of her chair in irritation.

"Yes, I feel that way too," Thomas responded, leaning forward in his seat to emphasise the point. "But we need to understand what makes them tick first, which buttons to press. If I can find out more specific timescales from them, we can do our own research as to where Alistair was at that time."

"You want to check up on him?"

"No, Erika, certainly not," he told her, glancing at Sally and then back at the blonde. "But think about it! We need to be in a position so that when they raise stuff, we have the facts and can counter everything they throw at us."

The Swede's eyes blazed. She remembered only too well the made-up stories when she separated from Dennis. The media hadn't treated her kindly at first. "It's one thing I quickly discovered about English newspapers. If they don't have facts, they'll manufacture lies. The bloody tabloids are scum."

"I understand how you feel," Thomas acknowledged. "But if we've done our research, we'll have all the facts and can combat anything they say. Then we'll be in a position of strength."

The blonde woman slowly nodded, letting a long sigh escape her lips as she fought back the recollection of the unfair coverage of her separation and divorce. Everything Thomas said made sense.

"So, we meet Alistair as soon as we can when we get back?" Sally asked.

"Yes," Thomas confidently replied. "You ring ahead and arrange that, Sally. And whatever you need to do to start that research, make it happen. We need chapter and verse on Alistair's movements around the time they're suggesting. Okay?"

"Okay?" the diminutive redhead asked, glancing at Erika for approval.

The blonde stared thoughtfully ahead, her mind trawling through the women she and Alistair had been with. Of all the beauties they'd fucked together, it had to be an unknown that was trying to make trouble.

Jane Atkinson, she could understand. She never did trust that gobby socialite, though she'd threatened her with what could happen when the dyed blonde had got too big for her boots and hinted at a conversation with the press. Now that she'd married a footballer, that particular threat had gone away.

Then there was Françoise, the free spirited French girl. She'd approached Erika some time ago, trying to strike a deal to keep quiet. It had been enough for the blonde to explain she had a video of the B-class actress taking cocaine, and that it would find its way to the police should she open her mouth.

But Mary O'Leary? Who the hell was Mary-fucking-O'Leary?

Her eyes darted back to the couple beside her. Both were closely watching her as she contemplated her options. If Sally researched Alistair's movements, there was an outside chance she might stumble on one of their conquests.

While that might not be

too

much of a problem, considering the redhead's involvement from time to time, she didn't believe in leaving things to chance.

"Go ahead with the research," she finally confirmed. "But I personally want a telephone update at the end of each day. And the three of us will meet first thing every morning to discuss findings.

Every

morning!"

"Okay," they said in unison.

Erika nodded in silent satisfaction. Had either given even the sliver of a hint of dissent, she'd have come down on them like a ton of bricks. Problem number one may have been Mary O'Leary. But number two was all the other Mary-fucking-O'Leary's who might crawl out of the woodwork if this came out.

"And should either of you find anything unusual—anything at all—I want to know

instantly

," she went on, reinforcing who was in control. "

No one

takes unilateral action.

Nothing

is done, or confided in anyone else, unless I agree to it. We're a team, the three of us. But I'm in charge. I have to keep the pressure away from Alistair with everything else that's going on. Understand?"

***

"Well, well," Guus Kessen said, making no move to move from his chair as his secretary brought Rebecca into his office. It was quite a contrasting approach, deliberately so, to his reaction to her arrival yesterday.

Show her who was in control.

"Guus," she nervously said once the grey haired secretary had closed the door behind her. She took a couple of steps forward and then stopped, nervously waiting for the overweight man to offer her a seat.

He didn't.

"We have some unfinished business," he murmured, his clipped Dutch accent more pronounced than usual. "Erika pleaded for me to see you again. Interesting, that. Want to know what I said?"

Rebecca nodded nervously. She'd planned out her speech on the way there, rehearsed it several times. Yet he'd instantly taken the initiative. What could she do other than allow him to continue?

"I told her I wouldn't," he went on, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out. "You see, Rebecca, I've never given a second chance to

anyone

."

The raven-haired beauty felt her breath catch in her throat. She was on the back foot and they both knew it.

Deus

! She'd soon be begging him to let her suck his cock.

"But..." he continued, crossing one extended foot over the other, "Erika has exceptional persuasive powers. And you, Rebecca, are an exceptional woman. Otherwise I wouldn't have even listened to Erika's entreaties."

Rebecca nodded, unsure what to say, or whether to speak at all. "Thank you," she eventually committed, wondering what else was coming.

"Very polite," Kessen smiled, slowly pouring himself a glass of water and raising it to his fat lips. Make her wait. Keep her standing there. "Would you like to know what else I thought?"

No

, she thought.

No, I wouldn't

. But she had to. Or lose her dream forever. "Yes, Guus," she hesitantly said, trying but failing to force a smile.

"Yes,

please

, Guus," the Dutchman said. She was his now! There was no doubt about that. Docile and obedient. But let's see if he could provoke that Brazilian temper. She'd make an even better fuck if she were angry with him.

"Yes... please... Guus," she spat out, deliberately slowly, feeling her temperature rise as she spoke. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't allow any man to treat her like this. But these weren't normal circumstances.

"Good," he arrogantly smiled, his lustful gaze running across her body.

Rebecca shivered. She felt herself blush. Being controlled like this was a new experience. Part of her hated it. Another part found it arousing. She'd deliberately dressed less provocatively, yet even through her bra she knew her nipples were pushing against her crisp white blouse. The colour superbly highlighted her dark, South American skin.