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Tanya Charles was entertaining two of her most helpful contacts. She had long known that success in selling to the public sector came from cultivating a network of those that could influence or inform as much as those that actually made the decisions. Chief Inspector Adrienne Costa and Maggie Forbush from the Ministry of Internal Affairs had been happy to take advantage of Tanya’s invitation. After all it wasn’t often they got the chance to visit the sort of places that Tanya’s expense account could afford.
They had met up in Green’s Oyster Bar in St James to kick the evening off but then they had moved on to The Hot Tub. Built in the style of a Roman Bath, The Hot Tub offered a bathing and clubbing experience like no other. In the columned central hall of the club the three women were immersed, each in their own personal spa bath. The brass trimmed, teak clad tubs and marbled walls gave the place an opulent feel. The staff of the club were some of the most attractive boys that could be found in London, oiled, tanned and shaved smooth. Clad in short Greek style costumes that barely covered their private parts, they wound their way between the tubs serving drinks and otherwise bringing the members whatever they required.
The club had a reputation for a steamy atmosphere, as much for the goings on between the clientele and the staff as for the temperature and humidity inside.
“I owe you a thank you,” Tanya said to Inspector Costa as the two of them took sips of champagne that was quickly giving up its chill to the warmth of the tub room.
“For what?”
“Leonard,” Tanya said. “James Leonard.” Adrienne Costa looked blank for a moment. “The solitary, your people were interviewing him…”
“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten. Don’t worry about it. We didn’t really have anything much on him. A couple of my team were a bit pissed to be called off – they’d put some effort in to setting him up – but they’ll get over it. I’m sure they’ll find another way of meeting their arrest quota. Besides,” she lounged back, took another swig from her glass and the opportunity to fondle a passing waiter, “I’m always happy to do you a favour Tanya.”
Tanya smiled and thanked her. She turned to Maggie Forbush. “How does this compare with the Ministry Club?”
“Let’s just say it’s rather more comfortable.” Maggie emptied her glass. “And with a better class of distraction.” Almost before she had put it down a bronzed waiter was at her side offering to refill it. The steam wafted up from the tubs and hung in a cloud across the room. Maggie had long since given up the task of trying to keep her spectacles clear, but with all the champagne she had drunk, she wasn’t sure that the view would be very much clearer if she had. The towel that she had wound turban-style around her head lurched to one side. Maggie giggled involuntarily and pushed it back into place.
“And how is the Minister getting on with her ‘demonstrator’? Has she shared him around the department?”
“You are joking! She seems to be happy enough but the best we can do is a fumble from one of the Government Facilities Service bunch. There’s no way that a civil service pay packet can let you fund your own sponsorship programme. We have to make do with what we can get.”
“Poor thing,” Tanya sympathised. “Is it as bad in the police?”
“It is if you want to stay away from the customers! We don’t even have males around the stations these days – viewed as a security risk. I can understand it but it’s no fun!”
“That’s what I thought. It’s why I’ve got us some places in the Sweat Box.”
Maggie and Adrienne both gave Tanya a look that said, “We’re impressed!”
“All right, I know. I’ve just got some good contacts. I’m, looking forward to this as much as you. Shall we go down now?”
The other two nodded eagerly, looking forward to the experience. The chance to visit one of the capital’s most exclusive pleasure centres wasn’t one to be delayed. Tanya stood up to climb from her tub. Without anyone uttering a word, three of the Hot Tub attendants appeared with towelling robes to drape around the three naked girls. Tanya led the way towards the stairway the led down between two great marble columns at the far end of the hall. All three women enjoyed the mixed looks of envy and admiration that they received from the others in the hall as they were allowed through onto the staircase down to the Sweat Box. Almost at once their anticipation was rewarded. Two TV personalities, renowned for their raunchy treatment of topics, and repeatedly mentioned in the popular press for their licentious behaviour, edged by them on the stairs.
The Sweat Box was well named; hot and dark, it gained its name as much from the sexual tension generated inside it as from the effect of the hot dry air within it. A bar ran the length of the long side wall, clusters of couches and comfortable chairs spread around the rest of the room. There were two rules in the Sweat Box. You left your own man or men at the door (if you brought them) and you never talked about what went on to anyone that was not there. In return you had the opportunity to engage in almost any socially acceptable sexual pursuit and, for a woman in the world of New Order, that meant almost anything.
Tanya, Maggie and Adrienne took themselves off to one of the clusters of couches. Almost at once three Sweat Box attendants appeared. “Any preferences?” asked Tanya.
The three young men, perhaps only twenty two or three years old stood quietly by the couches. Each was naked from the waist up apart from the leather harness that criss-crossed their chest. Each waited for their instruction.
“Well I’m old fashioned,” said Adrienne, “a few years of walking the beat means I’m always glad to have my feet pleasured. Perhaps this young man could oblige me.” She beckoned the first of the attendants to her side. Knowing what was expected of him, he commenced a careful and thorough foot massage combining the skills of his fingers, his lips and his tongue on Adrienne’s feet.
“I think my one can start a little higher up,” Maggie smiled with anticipation. As her choice knelt beside her she parted her towelling robe and guided his head towards her crotch. As she spread her legs his tongue darted forward in search of her sex.
Tanya watched as the two women surrendered themselves to the delights of their Sweat Box attendants. She took her own by the hand and guided him until his lips were on her breasts, sucking and kissing and nibbling at her nipples.
The conversation between the three women became intermittent. They even lost interest in the comings (if that was the word) and goings of the Sweat Box’s celebrity clientele. A film actress, a well known multi-millionairess, a member of the upper parliament, each were hosting their own group enjoying the amusements on hand in the Sweat Box.
Maggie gave a whimpering snort as her attendant burrowed deeper into her sex with his tongue. His rhythmic lapping was serving to drive her closer and closer to orgasm as she stretched herself back pushing her hips forward to press her sex against his face. Adrienne, seeing the amusement that Maggie was deriving, gripped her own attendant by the back of the neck and pulled his head upwards, directing him towards the same activities. Tanya, taking care to make sure that her guests were enjoying things as much as they could, paused in her own amusements. She pulled her attendant closer to her, pulling him away from her nipples and pressing his face into her cleavage. She looked across to where Maggie and Adrienne were both groaning with pleasure.
Tanya’s attendant gave a muffled gasp from between her tits, half suffocated by being held into her cleavage. Tanya giggled and released the man. “I have to go to the girls’ room,” she whispered to him. “You make yourself busy with my friend Maggie. Get your tongue up between her arse cheeks and help her up a step or two.” The man began to move across towards the other two women. “Good boy,” Tanya said, as she stood up. “If my friends have a really good time, they’ll be little extra in your tip.”
By the time Tanya got back, Maggie and Adrienne were sprawled in post orgasmic dissipation; the three attendants beside them. With Tanya’s return, the three rolled across to her couch. Looking at her two guests, she waved the men away. They had done all that was needed of them for the evening. Tanya was pleased; she earned a few favours from the other two tonight but there would be time enough to discuss that another day. She poured herself another drink and stretched out on her couch. It had been a productive evening.
****** ****** ****** *****
Norm, Zak and Pete had finished fixing the leak in the ladies shower room down in the gym complex. It had been a long job – or at least they’d managed to make it so – but luckily Angie wasn’t chasing them, so they were taking their time to get their tools together.
“Things working out all right, you and Angie?” Zak asked Norm. He and Pete half hoped that Norm’s involvement with their boss might in some way provide some protection for the rest of them.
Norm looked embarrassed. He was remembering the previous evening; much of it spent with his face buried beneath Angie’s ample buttocks while she watched some awful talent show – as far as he could tell – on the video. “”Well, you know how it is,” he said noncommittally.
Zak and Pete knew just that. You didn’t want to be involved if you could avoid it but if you couldn’t then you just had to hope there was some benefit. And with things getting more difficult for the unsponsored anything that helped keep you in a job, in your flat, and out of the camps was a good thing.
“Do you hear anymore of Jim? Jim Leonard?” Pete asked, thinking back to the most recent example of someone without a sponsor coming to grief.
Zak shook his head. “No. There was that business with the police but they let him out. His landlady hasn’t seen him – glad to see the back of him if you ask me, reckons he did a runner before the police could pick him up again. She’s decided he’s some sort of subversive. I think he tried to get some sponsorship but that all fell through. I haven’t even seen him down at the tea bar.”
“Sounds like he was involved in something doesn’t it? I mean, sure the Police are likely to fit up anyone they want to but why has he gone missing?”
“Shame though. He was all right.”
“Not if he was going to cause trouble he wasn’t! We’re well shot of him, I reckon. He was probably..”
Pete’s rant was interrupted by the arrival of two of the female staff. Wearing skimpy shorts and tight singlets, sweating, and with towels slung about their shoulders they’d obviously just finished a work out session in the gym. “Haven’t you lot finished?” the taller blonde girl asked. “Or do I need to get Angie to hurry things up.”
None of the three men were interested in that idea. “We’re just going,” Zak said gathering up his tools. “Just took a bit longer than we thought.”
“Yeah, sure,” the darker girl started. “Gave you a chance to hang around here on the off-chance of getting one of us to leer at, didn’t it?”
“No. Look we’re off.” The three headed towards the door. The two girls having lost interest in them were already stripping off for their showers, peeling out of their tops and shucking off their shorts as the men left.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
It had been a hard day. Eight cases; two plea bargains; the Justice Secretary wanting to discuss sentencing guidelines; Justice Lady Catherine Stearns was beginning to feel like it was all too much. Too many decisions, too many facts, too many people wanting to influence the way she did her job; just too much. She pushed her work papers to one side, took a deep breath and rang the bell on her desk. Her chamber boy, Lewis appeared with all the promptness demanded of his role. Sometimes Catherine wished he’d take bit longer.
She put on her calmest voice. “I’d like to review some of the evidence for the Robinson conspiracy case.”
“Yes, madam,” Lewis responded respectfully. “But that case was concluded wasn’t it?”
“Indeed, but I, ahh, still need to examine some aspects for a commentary on the sentencing. Bring me, let’s see,” she made a great show of consulting her notes, “Prosecution, Box 25.”
Lewis blinked, nodded his compliance and went off in search of the box. He returned a few minutes later with the brown, heavy card box, its label stamped with the case reference and file number. “Here you are madam,” Lewis said placing it carefully on her desk.
Catherine looked across the room to where Lewis had left the box. “Oh, ah, yes, well that’s fine. I have to deal with some other things first. Leave it with me. I’ll lock the office when I finish. You can take it back to registry in the morning.”
“Files aren’t really supposed to be out overnight, madam,” Lewis was worried in case he was thought to be in any way careless.
“That’s all right Lewis, I take complete responsibility. Besides it’s a concluded case, I don’t imagine there will be any need to consult it again. You can get off. I’m sure you’ll be expected at your lodgings.”
Lewis nodded, the court service sponsored lodgings were more comfortable than many but they liked those staying there to be regular in their habits. In truth he was pleased to be getting away on time, Why should he worry if the Justice wanted to review some old files?
Catherine watched him leave, waited for a few minutes and then got up to walk across the office to the door. She locked it, took the key from the lock and turned her back on the door giving a sigh of relief. She went back to the desk and pulled off the lid of prosecution evidence box 25. Inside lay a pile of papers, variously tied together in bundles. She lifted them out each in turn until she came to one, thicker than the others, that she took with her back to her chair. Slitting the tape that held the bundle together with a pair of scissors, she thumbed through the papers until she found the one she wanted.
“Deposition 35 of the forensic search team at the home premises of J Robinson, 24 Beak Street. Summary of documents found at the property suspected of contravening the Obscene and Seditious Publications (Possession) Act. Items 1 to 5 facsimile copies of Bondage Life, Harmony Publications,1975 – 1983, Items 6, 7 & 8 printed copies of computer files titled, Black Van 1, 2 & 3, Gary Roberts, Fansadox, published 2006?”
Behind the reference sheet were the seven magazines. Catherine laid them out, one beside the other on the table next to her chair. She picked up the last of the items and began to leaf through it peering at the brightly coloured, carefully inked drawings.
It wasn’t hard to see how they contravened the Act. Three girls dragged into a van by masked men, taken off to an old barn, tied up and repeatedly raped and abused. It was the usual sort of thing, Catherine thought, stereotypical characters and hackneyed situations. And, of course, highly illegal. It was no surprise the jury had found them guilty. It didn’t take much imagination to believe that a man in possession of this sort of thing might be only a few steps away from trying to actually carry out this sort of thing.
Catherine licked her lips. She didn’t find it hard to put herself in the place of the girls; violently seized, bound or handcuffed, gagged and carried off by masked men. The thought of it made her breath shorten and the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She turned to one of the copies of Bondage Life. “Love Bondage” it claimed to be, but was that any better? The photographs were grainy, the paper poor quality. Catherine guessed that these were probably photocopies of copies. She wondered if any of the original printed versions even existed any more. It was surprising really that these magazines still held their attraction even after more than thirty years, although, given her own feeling, perhaps it wasn’t.
The rational assessment of the illegal and pornographic (as far as New Order was concerned) material gave way in Catherine’s mind to a more visceral appreciation. Her attention was now fixed on the pictures of the helpless women. Her imagination projected her into their stead and, as it did so, her pulse quickened, her lips moistened and she felt the familiar, longed for, sensation of prickling between her legs that heralded her arousal. The short ”Oh!” as she turned the page to see a girl intricately roped to a chair was heard by no one but her, the short rustle of her skirt as her hand dived furtively beneath it was seen by no one. The quiet whimper of her orgasm as she turned the pages to pictures of other, helpless, women and masked, priapic, predatory men, distracted her only for a few moments before she drew breath, and felt the wave of relaxation flood over her. She fastened up the evidence bundles, marked them for filing and left for the night.
© Freddie Clegg 2009
All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission.
All characters fictitious
E-mail: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Web Groups: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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