It’s Not Always What it Seems

This is Part 2 of 3. The events in this story are based on what happened in Part 1. Read Part 1 first: https://www.literotica.com/s/its-not-always-what-it-seems-pt-01

I stopped just outside the door and reached back to my ass and winced. I glanced at my watch as I walked to the elevator, confirming the time for myself, and documenting on camera the confirmation. I didn’t need the key card to go back down, which was just as well as I’d left it in the suite. I didn’t purposely look at, nor did I hide my face from, the security cameras. I knew they were there and where they were, but I tried to make it look like I wasn’t paying attention to such things.

My phone room was ringing when I got there, it was my buddy Larry. “Back in your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Just following up, making sure.”

“No problem. I’m OK.”

“See you tomorrow.” He hung up and I headed to the shower.

It was nearly 3 am when I was awakened by a cool hand sliding across my naked stomach. “Are you OK baby?” Stephanie whispered in my ear, her mouth coming to mine as I opened my eyes and kissed her.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to hurt that bad.”

“I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have reacted right, and he would have suspected something.”

“Fuck, my ass is sore. I may not walk right for a week.”

“You’ll be alright by tomorrow. I was surprised, he normally never uses lube. This time he used just enough to get in but he wants you to know you’ve been raped. That’s his thing. If we’d lubed you up before hand, he’d have known you were expecting it.”

“Hmm,” I responded, considering what she’d previously admitted to me. “And you like anal?”

“Sometimes. If I’m lubed up well before hand, I won’t even be sore the next day and an anal orgasm, especially when Casandra is eating my pussy at the same time…”

“Is that him?”

“No. He’s never fucked me. He doesn’t do women. He doesn’t even have a regular lover. His thing is a virgin male.”

“And you set them up for him.”

“Not always. If it’s for Cassie and me, I just tell him that they’re not a virgin and he’s not interested.”

“You really are a kinky bitch, aren’t you?” I whispered, her hand stroking my cock which had now, several hours later, firmed up quite nicely.

“Yeah, I am,” she giggled, swinging her leg up and over and mounting me. Despite barely having any foreplay she was already wet. “Do you want to do my ass sometime?”

“Do a poop chute when the love chute is available?” I flexed my cock inside her, causing a slight shudder from her. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you think he suspected anything?” I asked a few minutes later, my cock having spit its contents in her pussy once again, her body having shuddered in yet another orgasm.

“Not a thing.”

“Hmm. What took you so long?”

“He wanted to watch Cassie and me; watch her eat your cum from my pussy and then he didn’t go to bed right away.”

“And then you left?”

“Once he’s asleep, we’re free to do whatever we want until tomorrow.”

6 months earlier

The coroner initially only pulled the covering sheet down enough to expose her face and neck to me. That she had been dead several days before they found her partially submerged in the Potomac hadn’t done anything for preserving her features. I was pretty sure it was her, but said “she should have a mole on her left hip.” The coroner pulled the sheet down further, exposing her breasts and belly until a mole appeared.

I’d never seen my baby sister naked before, not since she’d been a baby. 14 years younger than me, the ultimate example of an “oops” baby, I’d changed her diapers, I’d fed her in her high chair, and later I’d listened as she complained about boyfriends, girlfriends, dating, and growing up. I had little to no idea about her life since I’d left home.

Her pure white breasts, which accented the mild tan of her belly and chest that she’d had when she died, confirmed that she’d never (or at least, seldom) been topless in the sun, totally in concert with her slightly conservative outlook. The mole, which had always played peek-a-boo at the top edge of her bikini bottom, appeared right on the tan line. I didn’t ask her to pull the sheet further down, I had no want or desire to examine my sister’s pubic preferences. I knew she wasn’t a virgin; I’d been surprised one morning when I was visiting and she’d come home from college, had already gone to bed before I got there, and had brought her boyfriend out with her for breakfast in the morning. There were actually a couple of boyfriends she brought home with her over the years before we both left for good.

“That’s her,” I confirmed, reaching up and touching my sister’s cheek, her complexion completely ashen, her cheek cold and stiff to the touch. I hadn’t seen a dead body since dad died three years before.

The call had been unexpected, but then again, sudden death of a 23-year-old is never expected. She’d been found drifting in an eddy of the Potomac, and the police had been unable to determine whether she’d been put in right there, or whether she’d drifted down from elsewhere. They hadn’t yet performed the autopsy when I saw her; when they did it was inconclusive for cause, just that she’d been dead for almost 24 hours when found, and that she’d most likely been high on heroin. The death was ruled an overdose, even though when I asked about indications of previous drug use: needle marks, toxicity in her hair, anything — everything came up negative. I knew it would.

Even in death she was one of the most beautiful girls I knew, her drug of choice had been athletics. At five feet seven inches, blond hair, she’d been a star on the high school girls track and cross-country teams. She’d won her regionals as a sophomore and junior, but a late developing bust, taking after our mother in that respect, but also aided by becoming sexually active and going on the pill, left her top-heavy and had her give up competitive running her senior year. She could have been a model; she’d actually done some modeling in high school. She could have been an actress; she’d also participated in plays in high school and college both. Instead, she’d pursued politics, she wanted to make a difference. When she graduated Magna Cum Laude with a Political Science degree she moved to Washington, eventually ending up on the staff of The Senator.

~

I had her cremated, there being no other close family to ever check on her or question where she was buried again. When the Senator found out I’d had her cremated, he bought a spot in a columbarium in the memorial park for her. It wasn’t until I received a call from Stephanie, introducing herself as both my sisters’ friend and co-worker that I even knew anything about Stephanie, my sisters work, or the Senators gift of the columbarium. Until then I hadn’t even thought about what I would do with her ashes, in the back of my mind I’d sort of thought about taking a boat out to sea and spreading them. She always loved the sea. I didn’t have any idea whether doing such was even legal, but I didn’t care. I was just numb that my sister was dead. My entire family was dead. No aunts, no uncles, nobody that I knew of were left in my withered and dry family tree.

I didn’t question why the Senator had come to the memorial service that I planned with the Mortuary, nor did I question the several reporters there taking his picture. To me I was burying my sister, but apparently to the reporters he was “showing his respects.” Along with the Senator, there were two young women, Casandra — and Stephanie. Both were extremely good looking, well above average, but I hadn’t yet met either, until Stephanie approached me. “James — I’m Stephanie. Your sister talked a lot about you. I can’t tell you how sorry we all are to lose Kathy. The Senator has asked me to express his condolences also.” It would not have meant anything in the normal context of things, except that The Senator was just a few feet away, with several media recording devices stuck in his face. Despite noticing the seeming incongruity, I was still too numb to care. “You need to call me,” Stephanie said and handed me a business card, “when you’re ready.” I took the card, not really looking at it, and slipped it into my shirt pocket. As I looked away, I saw the Senator, still talking with the reporters, but looking our way. His eyes shifted away; I had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding looking at me.

One reporter actually stepped up and asked me how it felt to lose my only sibling. She actually expressed her condolences before asking such a tone-deaf question, more than the Senator ever did.

And in a sad note today, a memorial service for Kathy Longacre, the intern on Texas Senator Aaron Jacobson’s staff whose body was found floating last week in the Potomac. Police have not released a cause of death although they stated that foul play is not suspected at this time. Senator Jacobson attended the service where he spoke briefly to our reporters about the tragic loss.

“Kathy was a bright and rising star on my staff, her death strikes home just as much as if she’d been my own daughter. Words just can’t express the heartache that her loss is causing me and my staff. Being able to provide the family with a permanent resting place in this columbarium was the least that I could do for her family.” The camera panned back from Senator Jacobson and showed me walking away without really identifying that it was me. Kathy is survived by her older brother James Longacre,” the pretty voice of the pretty reporter standing in front of a pretty display by the columbarium intoned, and then switched back to a view of her holding the microphone. “Sylvia Maldonado reporting from the Forest Valley Mortuary.”

The majority of the “news” report on my sister’s funeral had actually concentrated on Senator Aaron Jacobson. Of course, I’m sure that the television station being owned by a company that was owned by a company that was owned by Senator Aaron Jacobson, and the great thing he was doing by providing a place to keep my sisters ashes forever, just coincidentally right when re-election campaigning had begun, had nothing to do with the unbiased and insightful newscast. I suppose the feed from that report being picked up by virtually every major news outlet in the nation was “just” coincidence also.

~

“I need to talk to you about Kathy in private.”

The note was on the back of the business card that Stephanie had given me, along with a phone number that didn’t match the cell number on the front. I’d almost missed it; when I took off my shirt in my hotel room, I’d gone to hang it up and noticed the card in the pocket. Taking it out I remembered sticking it into my pocket when I received it from Stephanie, but hadn’t even glanced at it at that time. I dropped it onto the dresser. Whatever she wanted to say could wait until I was more in a talking mood.

The autopsy was completed two days later. That I knew my sister had never done drugs, had none of the signs of intravenous drug use that drug deaths normally exhibit, didn’t seem to have any effect on the autopsy report. “Apparent accidental lethal dose of heroin” was listed as the cause of death. That she’d been murdered I had no doubt, what I didn’t know was who, or why.

“This is Jim Longacre, you asked me…” I said into the answering machine, only to be interrupted by Stephanie’s voice as she picked up, shutting off the answering machine.

“Jim!”

“Yeah,” I answered, “That what I just said.”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m really not in the mood for talk,” I answered, “I just lost my sister.”

“I know, I know. Kathy was my friend, she talked about you all the time.”

I stood there silently for a moment, debating whether to talk with her or just hang up. In my mind I remembered her stepping up to me and handing me her business card. Any other time, except my sister’s funeral, I would have been eagerly examining the stunning beauty that she was. Even though she’d been in business professional attire at the funeral, there was no hiding the gorgeous ebony hair or the perfect complexion. The curve of her blouse and jacket had been formed by some substantial breasts. Her long legs were every bit as athletic as my sisters had been. I remembered seeing her step back over to the Senator, her skirt not hiding that she was exquisitely proportioned everywhere. “I want to meet you and talk in person; will you meet me?”

~

The restaurant that she asked me to meet her at was surprisingly low key, that she’d asked for a corner table, well away from anyone else, somewhat intriguing as the three o’clock meeting was after lunch, but before dinner, and the restaurant itself was virtually empty.

“How well did you know my sister?” I asked, just to start the conversation.

“Did she ever tell you anything about me?” She replied, not answering my own question directly.

I shook my head no. “I really hadn’t talked to her in a couple of years, ever since she moved to Washington.”

She nodded her head this time, glanced around the room, and then leaned forward to whisper, “Your sister was murdered.”

Somehow this didn’t startle me. I’d already made up my mind that her death was no “accidental overdose,” but hearing someone that knew her make the same pronouncement was not surprising in the least. I nodded.

‘I didn’t think it was accidental. She’s never used drugs in her life.” I looked her in the face, finding her eyes locked onto mine. “Do you know this, or just think this.”

Her head bobbed. “I can’t prove it, but I know who, and why.”

“Have you told the police?”

She shook her head no. “I can’t. I can’t prove anything, and anything I say will come back to haunt me. I’ll end up like your sister.”

“And?” I asked when she didn’t continue. “How do you know this?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” I just sat, waiting for her.

“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” I said after a few seconds of silence.

“Your sister and I had a lot in common,” she began, playing with her icy glass of tea, condensation down the outside causing her to wipe her fingers on the napkin. “We both came to Washington to make a difference. We both got hired by the Senator, me a couple of years before her. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, he only hires pretty girls. Very pretty girls.”

“I kind of figured that,” I answered, considering that Kathy and Stephanie were both gorgeous, stately, and quite sexy. Kathy had bigger boobs than Stephanie, thanks to our mom, but I would have said that Stephanie was slightly prettier. Her black hair accented her face perfectly, Kathy’s blonde hair had “just” been pretty. There had been a gorgeous blond with Stephanie at the funeral, and from her remembered looks, I guessed she’d also been one of the Senators girls. “So, I guess this Senator is a womanizer? Can’t say as I’m surprised there, Rank Has Its Privilege, and all that?”

“Actually, he’s not.”

“Not a womanizer?” She nodded her head at my statement.

“He surrounds himself with pretty women for perception and… entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” I queried, not quite following what she’d just told me.

“Entertainment… of visitors.”

“Oh,” I said, realizing what she was implying. “As in, Escorts?”

“As in his whores,” she said, lowering her voice. I could her the bile in her voice as she said this.

I wasn’t sure what to say. On the one hand, it didn’t surprise me at all, but on the other hand, I just couldn’t imagine my sister making herself a prostitute. “My sister?” I asked.

She shook her head no. “She wouldn’t.”

“She wouldn’t,” I repeated. “Tell me.”

“None of us start out as whores, but it’s quite common in Washington. Have you ever heard of Jeffrey Epstein?” I shook my head no. “Everybody in Washington knows him, he supplies young girls to those in power. Names of people you wouldn’t believe. Prince Andrew, from England? Do you know him? Bill Clinton… Donald Trump… Bill Gates… more Senators and Governors than you can shake a stick at. Businessmen, anyone that he can keep a skeleton on.”

“Here in Washington?”

“Not necessarily. He’s got a mansion and grounds in Palm Beach; he’s got a private island in the Virgin Islands. It’s well known, down there they call it “Pedophile Island.” He takes politicians or people in power down there, and then provides them with girls. Young girls. Really young girls. He’s even had Stephen Hawking there.”

“You can prove this?”

“That Stephen Hawking was there?”

“No, that he supplies girls to those in power there.”

“Of course not. I doubt that a Congressional investigation could prove that.”

“Why not?”

“Because they are the ones who are doing this. Congressmen, Senators… the people in power have no desire to expose him, expose themselves, after all they’re the ones getting young, even underage, nookie. Just go online and google Epstein, they don’t even hide that they were there. There are pictures of them, Trump, Clinton, Prince Andrew. There are people, in power; a tremendous amount of people in power who…” She let her voice fade off.

“And Senator Jacobson does this too?”

“In a way.” I just shrugged and questioned with a look as to what she meant. “Senator Jacobson… swings the other way.”

“Gay?” I stated as a question.

“As far as I know, he’s never had sex with a woman.”

“Oh.” I had to think about what she was telling me. She hadn’t excluded herself in that “whore” statement, just my sister.

“So, you… entertain…” I didn’t have to finish.

“Constituents, Clients, the wives of clients, businessmen that need to be persuaded to complete a deal.”

“Wow. And you knew this when you went to work for him?”

“Oh, of course not. I went to work for him for a 25% raise. We’re all idealistic, and then the reality of Washington tears us all down. It’s one of the most expensive areas of the US to live, or one of the worst. Rent is exorbitant in the nice areas where it’s hard to make ends meet, or you live in areas where it’s not so nice. And then one day you get “invited” by the Senator to “attend” a business meeting. At first, it’s just after working hours, we’re in our usual business clothes. Usually, whoever is being entertained is seated next to you, and sometimes it’s even business discussion. They’ll share things and then comment that “of course, this is all confidential,” so that we learn to keep our mouths shut. And then perhaps the next time, it’s a later dinner meeting, and he’ll send us off to this boutique to get new clothes, on his expense account, of course. They’re almost always quite sexy clothes, risqué and revealing, definitely not business normal. Sexy underwear and outer wear, perhaps they’re sheer, perhaps just low cut.” She glanced down at herself, “Guys like my boobs so he always had me wear something braless.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t have to. And then, after a while, he lets it be known that… whoever it is that really needs to be convinced to complete the deal and that this person really likes me, or Maggie, or Kathy…. “At that she stopped and looked up at me. “And that we should do anything to convince him that the deal should be completed.”

“Kathy wouldn’t?”

“Yeah. She wouldn’t. The first time, after work she went along. The first time he bought her sexy clothes, she really liked them, said she’d never had anything like them before and said she felt so sexy. And then, when we went out with the Senator from Missouri and he let Jacobson know that he wanted to have sex with Kathy, she refused. She said she wasn’t interested in giving sex to someone as old as her father, that she wasn’t a whore.”

“She knew by that time, what was happening?”

“Well, she’d been pretty naïve when she started, but she figured it out. We’d talked several times. I told her; she knew.”

“And what about you? Why did you do it?”

“It’s easy to say the money,” she shrugged, and sighed, “but I haven’t got anything else but what I’ve got here. There have been a couple of girls in the past that wouldn’t go along, they found themselves fired, for some trumped-up excuse, and then blacklisted. They can’t get jobs elsewhere, and they have to leave Washington or, worse, they end up staying and then have to find a way to pay for it all. Some of them ended up becoming high-class escorts, exactly what they’d originally refused to do. There are a couple of madams in town, and we all have to live… And the Senator, he pays us well. The first thing we know we’re in the squeeze. We’ve moved into high-class facilities, get used to eating expensive, living expensive, and there really isn’t anything else that we can do that allows us to live so well.”

“And it’s really not that much. Perhaps once or twice a month we go out with someone, put out, and then never see them again. At least most of the time.”

“What’s that mean, most of the time?”

“The governor of… well, one midwestern state, comes in about once a month with his wife and his wife really likes me.”

“His wife?”

“He just likes to watch his wife and me together, and then have me watch while he fucks his wife. She apparently always had a desire to be with a woman, but can’t ever let anyone back home know. When he told Jacobson that they’d make the deal if he could provide a woman for his wife, well — it was me.”

“You like women?”

“I love women. My girlfriend Cassandra and I live together.”

“Then you don’t like men?”

“Oh no, I love men too. I’m bisexual, but Cassandra isn’t. She really hates it when she has to be with a man.” She paused. “She works for the Senator too, the same arrangement. She’ll put out when she has to, but really would never be with a man again if she could help it.”

“And what’s this about the Senator? He doesn’t like women? He’s into men?”

Her head waggled both up and down and left and right. “Yes… and no.”

“What’s that mean?” I questioned. “Does he, or doesn’t he?”

“It means,” Stephanie said, just sitting and looking at me for a moment. “It means that I know he’s not into women, but I don’t think he’s really into men either.

“You’re not making sense.”

She grimaced before saying, “I’m not really proud of this…”

“You’re still not making any sense,” I said, and when she didn’t clarify her statement, repeated, “You’re not really proud of what?”

She exhaled, and then took in a larger breath. “Senator Jacobson only has… anal sex… with men. Men who… are virgins… back there.”

I just sat and waited. I could tell she wasn’t done yet, and momentarily she continued. “About once a month… he has me pick up a guy. I’ll question them, find out if they’re into anal sex and find out whether they have ever done it or not. If they have had anal, I find an excuse and move on. But, if they haven’t, I have them come to his suite and… I have sex with them, and then convince them that a little light bondage is in order. I get them tied down… and he wants me to give them oral sex while he’s… raping them.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.”

“And you do this? Willingly?”

Steph shrugged her shoulders. “It’s hard to describe.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Probably 5 years for me. I never asked but I think he’s been doing it ever since he’s been in Washington. I think he’s had a couple of other girls that did this for him before.”

“Why?” I asked, she just looked at me. “Why would you continue doing this?”

She sighed once again. “I love… Cassandra, but I love sex with men.” She lowered her head and leaned forward again. “I love to get fucked. I love variety, and I don’t have to worry about taking care of someone else. I get variety and there is no way they’re ever going to complain.”

“You take somebody to your room, get them tied up, raped by a madman, and they’re not going to complain?”

“Not likely. I don’t take them to my room, I leave them a keycard, and they come on their own. I get to have sex with them, and then they pay for it with their ass. The Senator is quite powerful on the hill. First, they’d have to convince someone that he did this. That’s hard when he’s got the police force in his back pocket and the bartender confirming what happened.”

“The Bartender?” I queried, not having heard about him before.

“Yeah, took me a while to decipher he’s the initial screen. The Senator would tell us who was a likely ‘hook’ at the bar, and then the bartender kept everything well-oiled and discrete. And then, even if they complained, and someone actually believed it, what is there to believe? That a stranger in a bar got handed a door key by a beautiful woman, went to her room, and that he was the one that got the raw deal?”

I just sat there mulling over what she’d told me. Eventually my thoughts came back to my sister.

“And that’s what happened to my sister?” Again, she cocked her head, her lip going between her teeth, and then straightened it again.

“You know, she said I’d like you.”

“What?” I asked, at her change of subject.

“She said I’d like you, that you were a really nice guy. One of the really nice guys, and that if I met someone like you, you could help get me out of this rat race.”

I picked up on the deflection, that she’d once again ignored my query about my sister.

“What happened to my sister? You said she was murdered. By whom?”

“He didn’t actually do it himself, but I know she was killed by Senator Aaron Jacobson.”

A blatant accusation, but one, so-far, without any justification as far as I was concerned. But she’d been able to tell me more about my sister and her life than anyone else — was I to believe her unquestioningly?

“Tell me.” She nodded and began to explain.

“There was a party at his place, the one in Virginia. All of us were there, Kathy, me, Cassandra, Maggie, Wendy, and Nellie. It was Kathy’s first time; I don’t think any of us realized she really hadn’t understood what was expected that night. There were six of them, two senators and 4 representative that were on the fence, he needed the deal to be swung that night. It was as you would expect, a nice, expensive meal served by his personal staff. Lots of wine, lots of booze. He directed everything, he always directed everything. Who sat with whom, who we were to pay special attention to, and then we began to, uhm… entertain.

“My ‘date’ was with one of the representatives, who seemed to be a really nice guy and it almost didn’t feel like he knew I was the payment for his vote. Cassandra had the Senator from South Carolina. She told me later that he fucked her in the ass three times but wouldn’t do her pussy as he didn’t want to cheat on his wife. Go figure, huh? Anyway, the Senator from Ohio had the hots for Kathy, he’d changed places at the table with one of the other guys to be next to her, and then as we began to entertain, I lost track of her, mostly because I took my guy to his bedroom. When we came out in the morning, I could tell that Jacobson was really upset, and Kathy wasn’t there. It turned out that she’d left shortly after dinner when the Senator from Ohio got all handsy and tried to feel her up. The rest of us all went home to clean up, and got back to the office about noon. Kathy was there when we got there, and as soon as Jacobson arrived, she went in to see him. I couldn’t hear all that was said, but he was really upset. He didn’t even want to listen to her, just screaming about how if she’d “fucked this up” he’d have her ass. I heard her say, “you can’t hurt me, because I quit!” and a minute or so later she came out of his office in tears and just grabbed her purse and walked out.”

“They had the vote in the House that afternoon, and it passed. They had the vote in the Senate the following day, and it failed — by one vote. The Senator from Ohio, the one that Kathy was supposed to entertain, went against it.” She paused, looked over at me. “I talked to Kathy that night. When I told her the vote, she said she’d heard on CSPAN. When I asked her what she was going to do, she said she didn’t know, that she’d sleep on it for the night, and then she’d begin to look for something. That was the last I ever heard from her. It was three days later they found her body.”

“She wasn’t into drugs?”

“Oh hell no. She would cut herself off at two drinks. I don’t think I ever even saw her drunk. There was no way she was using heroin.”

I hadn’t interrupted or asked any questions while she was talking. It was obvious to me that Stephanie was telling me that Jacobson had gotten pissed when Kathy didn’t put out, the vote was lost, and now understanding him a little more it was probable that he was most upset about all the money that he’d spent to buy those votes and it had been for naught. I nodded, mulling over what she’d told me for a while, she didn’t say anything else.

“So why are you telling me all this?” I queried, some inkling in my mind that she wasn’t being totally honest. “You’re essentially a high-dollar call girl for Jacobson, pretending to be a Congressional Staffer?”

She shook her head no. “I am a Congressional Staffer.” She paused; I could tell it was to contemplate what exactly to tell me. “I was a virgin for most of High School. I gave my virginity to my boyfriend after our Senior prom. The first time wasn’t the best, but it got better rapidly, that same night even, and by morning I was hooked on sex. We did it whenever we could, right up until we broke up and I went away to Northwestern. I didn’t have a scholarship, mom and dad didn’t have that kind of money, so I had to pay for it.” She paused again, looked me right in the face and said, “I paid for my college with my ass.” I just raised an eyebrow and waited. “By the end of the first semester I was $30,000 in debt, and out of affordable student loans. I was talking about having to drop out, and one of the other girls suggested she knew how I could make what I needed. She said that on weekends she was an escort, but also sometimes during the week as lonely businessmen paid better.”

“I initially told her no way, I wasn’t interested in being a hooker, but she said I didn’t have to put out, just to be a pretty face on an arm. I asked if that was all she did, and she said no, being a pretty face pays, but putting out pays better, and as much as I liked sex, why not get paid for it? She said she had an upcoming gig that weekend for two girls, and if I wanted, I could go along as her second. When I asked if it included sex, she said it was ok if I didn’t want to, that it was up to me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, I grew up a virgin country girl and College turned me into a hooker. But I didn’t want to be a hooker, I wanted to be in politics. Just like Kathy, I wanted to make a difference. I reasoned that I was paying my way through college, and that once I got hooked into Congress with a good paying job, I would never do that again. I graduated with honors, immediately got hired as a Congressional aide, making barely enough to pay rent and eat. I thought it was good money, but “good” money in Washington isn’t the same as elsewhere. I found I was living at the poverty level, just that now I was wearing really nice, expensive, clothes. When Senator Jacobson offered me a 25% raise to do the same thing, I jumped at the chance, but that just meant that I got to eat a little better. I’d worked for him for about 6 months when he asked if maybe I’d assist in persuading some elected officials to vote a certain way. When I asked what he wanted, he said it would just be that I was a ‘pretty face’, hang on their arm and make them feel special, and help convince them to vote for his bill. I recognized immediately what he was asking, he wanted me to be an escort again.” She reached over and took a drink of her iced tea. “So officially, during the day, I’m a Congressional aide, and a couple of times a month I’m a Congressional hooker. I make 78 thousand a year as an aide… and I made about $250k last year.”

“Wow. That’s more than I made.”

“It comes with a price.”

I didn’t say anything for a minute or two. “You could quit.”

She smiled wryly. “Yeah, and where does a 28-year-old used Congressional whore make $250k a year?”

“Used?” I queried, “why do you say that?”

“You probably haven’t been around long enough to see. It’s all about youth. Epstein and his pedophile followers? They’re all really young; underage young. Me, I’m 28 and the oldest “staffer” on Jacobson’s payroll. I can see what’s happening. I won’t be with him when I’m 30.”

“You don’t think a pretty, almost 30-year-old, girl like you has a future in something else?”

“One does get used to the income.”

I just nodded, my mind switching back to the beginning of the conversation and why I was there.

“So you think Jacobson wanted Kathy to suck some Congressman’s cock, she refused, he lost the vote he had promised or counted on, and while pissed off, ordered someone to take care of Kathy?”

“More than just a promise, it was a business deal. Everything in Washington is a business deal. Outwardly, the swap of votes has to do with, “you vote for mine and I’ll vote for yours,” but behind the scenes, everything is bought and sold. The pushers are the sellers, the takers are the Johns. Remember Duke Cunningham? He started out thinking he was going to be honest and make a difference, and then he got caught. One little favor required another bigger favor, and pretty soon he was, knowingly or not, on a payroll. Jacobson is a seller, and he probably lost a couple of million dollars in buy offs or political contributions when the vote wasn’t produced.”

“You know that for sure?”

“You don’t get to be worth several hundred million dollars by fucking poor virgins in the ass.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “Everything in Washington is for sale, mostly for money or pussy.”

“And you can’t tell the police, you’re in bed with him, so you’d go down too?”

“Well, not in bed with him, but in the beds of whomever he wants us to be in bed with.”

Again, I sat quietly thinking about what I’d absorbed. Could I tell the police? I had no evidence, nothing except the word of an apparently disgruntled professional escort who happened to be working for the Senator, but even that probably couldn’t be proven, even if I’d wanted to. Could I do what I really wanted and kill the bastard? Even if he actually dictated the “hit”, if that’s what it was, that was sure to bring the police and FBI down on me, and except for her saying that’s what happened, I had no evidence, no proof. I had no preconceptions that I had the nefarious skills to be able to kill someone and not get caught, although if what Stephanie had said, Jacobson or others on his payroll, did.

“Steph?”

“Yeah?”

“I hear what you’ve said. I understand that you think your boss had… your friend killed?” It was too close to home for me, I couldn’t say that he’d had “my sister” killed, and had to say, “your friend.” She nodded her head in confirmation. “And I thank you for telling me that the cesspool of Washington that we all think is there, is just as bad as what we think it is, but what can I do with this?”

“Actually, it’s not.”

“What’s not?” I asked, befuddled, and having lost her line of thought.

‘The ‘cesspool’ that you speak of, mostly, it’s not. There are a few Jeffrey Epstein’s, Aaron Jacobson’s, and the like. As they say in Poly Sci — power corrupts, and ultimate power corrupts absolutely. Most of the Congressmen and Senators are truly dedicated and honest officials, but the system itself is corrupt and allows people like Jacobson to get away with what they do. The give and take, the having to give up something you really want to get someone to give up something they really want leads to ultimate corruption of the process. Congressmen have to vote against something they really want because someone else tacked on a rider that is unacceptable. All of it adds up after a while. It’s not the people that start corrupted, it’s the system that corrupts them. Jacobson just pushes it, gets a skeleton on someone, and then they must do what he wants. Blackmail if you will.”

“Ok, but still what can I do about this? I can’t see there is anyone I can tell, or anything I can do.”

“There is.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to help me take Senator Jacobson down. I can’t do anything for Kathy, she was a wonderful, loving, caring, person. But I think I can make sure he’ll never do this to anyone else again.”

I sat and looked at Stephanie for a moment, for some reason, for the first time really appraising her. If Stephanie truly was the high-class call girl that she said she was, I could see why she would be quite successful. Gorgeous black hair framed her eyes. Her breasts were large but not as large as I knew Kathy’s had been. The blouse she wore was professional sexy, obviously working in the senators office she had to present herself as a professional businesswoman, but the dip in her blouse that showed her chest, her décolletage, without overly exposing breast flesh, just came across as exceedingly sexy. Previously she’d said the Senator liked her to go braless when she was entertaining, but now she obviously was wearing one but, although she didn’t have any cleavage showing, her nipples pleasantly protruded through the blouse. That she had on a thin bra was unmistakable and I had no doubt that she knew it was designed to allow her nipples to show. I nodded thoughtfully, trying to decipher what her game was, what she was trying to tell me. Did she really have revenge, if we could call it that, for Kathy in mind? Just how much of her accusation of the Senator could I believe? Regardless of her thoughts, there was no proof. My silence finally elicited her expounding on the statement.

“I never thought I was going to be turning tricks again when I came to Washington. I never thought that’s what I was doing at college either, but that’s what I was doing, prostituting myself for my education. I told myself it was escorting, not prostituting, but seldom did I go on a date that didn’t include sex. Sometimes, but not often, guys were just lonely and liked to have some candy on their arm, but most of the time, I took them to bed. Sometimes we actually went out, I did escort them to business meetings, social events, sometimes even a real date to the opera or theatre. Sometimes I was introduced as a wife, or girlfriend, but a lot of the time the only escorting I did was from the front door to the bed.

“My mom and dad would die if they ever found out what I did, but I knew, whether I admitted it myself at the time or not, that when I went out on a ‘date’, it was really all about the sex. That perhaps I was a bit prettier and less decorated than a street walker, and that my money was going to my education instead of my drug habit made it seem different, but really it wasn’t.

“The first time the Senator told me to “make a… client… happy,” I had this image in my mind that he didn’t really mean sex, but it did. Whether I fooled myself or not, it did.” She shook her head. “That first time was with a Saudi Sheik. I’d heard him talking to the Senator and his other ‘elected officials’ all day long, without him ever saying a word to me even though I was there. And then at the end of the day, the Sheik told Jacobson that he wanted to take me to dinner… and Jacobson said publicly that was up to me, but then privately said I needed to take care of him, to “make this happen.” I went with the Sheik, but he made no bones about it, the first thing he said was “take your shirt off, I want to see those tits that have been hiding from me all day.” I acted shocked and told him that I wasn’t that easy, that he’d have to take me to dinner if anything was going to happen, but inwardly I knew.” She shrugged her shoulders, “he took me to dinner, and then to his room, and I was officially the Senators call girl. The Sheik had almost seemed like a nice guy during the day, but that night I was just a piece of meat. It was no different than in college with some high-paying businessman, except that the Senator thanked me for taking care of ‘his guy’ the next day and slipped me an envelope with $5,000 cash in it.”

“I don’t think anyone is just a piece of meat.” She looked up at me with a wry smile.

“Kathy was right, you are one of the good guys.”

Although she’d indicated what she wanted to do, she didn’t tell me what she had in mind, or how it was going to work out. “Just what have you got in mind to take down the Senator?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, and then answered with a question. “Are you going to help?”

“Help with what?” I asked, tingles going off in my mind to be wary.

“I guess this is it,” she quietly said after nearly a minute, “Where I lay it all on the table.”

“Look, Stephanie,” I said, reaching out and taking her hand. “You haven’t told me anything yet. You have made an accusation that your boss is behind Kathy’s death, without any proof. You’re indicating you want to take him down, but haven’t told me anything about how. I just buried my sister, I haven’t any idea what exactly you know or how you intend to prove it, but I can say that he’s very rich, and very powerful. Whatever you think you’ve got in mind; you’d better think over quite carefully.”

She nodded her head, “we have.” I almost missed it.

“We?” Again, she sat quietly. “The trouble with schemes is that it’s so easy to slip up, just like that. Whatever you’re planning, you just implicated someone else through that little slip.”

“It wasn’t a slip.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “You’re letting me know someone else is involved? It only took me a second of thinking about it before I realized who it must be. “Cassandra?” Her nodding head confirmed my guess.

“Do you like spaghetti?”

Her question, a complete change of subject, seemed out of place. “Yeah. Why?”

“We’re having spaghetti tomorrow night. I think you should join us. She picked up my phone, and when she found it locked, asked me to unlock it. I was a bit wary, and when I asked why, she said she wanted my notepad. I pulled up notepad for her and watched as she typed, “Dinner. 7 pm Sharp.” She added the address and handed it back.

~

I hadn’t met Cassandra directly yet, but recognized her from the funeral. She’d been away from me, seen only from a distance, but now she greeted me at the door. “James?” she asked, opening the door and sticking her hand out both.

“Jim,” I answered, “you’re Cassandra?”

“Guilty as charged,” she giggled. “I just opened a bottle of Merlot to go with the spaghetti. Can I get you a glass?”

“Please.” She turned away and I wiped the slobber off my chin as she was facing away. That Cassandra was equally as stunning as Stephanie, was an understatement. That she was lesbian and hitting for the other team, equally stunning. She was barefoot, long shapely legs extending from the floor to some not quite short-shorts. Her midriff was bare, a halter top encasing two quite ample breasts. She was, just like Stephanie, a knock-out, although knowing she wasn’t interested in men momentarily left me shaking my head at the unfairness of such a beauty only swinging for the opposite team. I watched as she stepped to the cabinet where the bottle of wine sat on top. Bending over and opening the cabinet door she withdrew three wine glasses. At least I think she got all three as they were on top a few moments later, but I don’t think my eyes ever left her ass. When she’d bent, her butt cheeks had appeared below the edge of the shorts, and had totally distracted me.

“Hello, Jim,” Stephanie said, sticking her head out from the kitchen. “Is Cassandra getting you a glass of wine?” I saw her head drop to my bag and I wiggled a finger, beckoning her closer. Holding up the pre-written note for her to read, I answered aloud, “Yeah, she offered a Merlot which sounds absolutely wonderful.”

Do you know whether your apartment is bugged? DO NOT SPEAK.

Her reluctance on being forthright the previous afternoon had set my senses on edge. Was it possible that she wasn’t going to propose something illegal? I thought not, it all made sense. Blackmail? Extortion? That I knew a thing or two about the internet and internet security as well as physical security through my company couldn’t be just a coincidence. I’d gotten to where I was by being leery of things that just seemed to fall into my lap.

She shook her head no.

“Spaghetti? I hope you make a mean pasta!” I said, waving my hand and beckoning with my head for her to return to the kitchen, and motioning for Cassandra, who was watching quizzically, to continue with the wine. I handed the note to her, she nodded in understanding as she read it, and then looking at me shook her head no, shrugging her shoulders and indicating she didn’t know.

“You’re in for a treat,” Cassandra answered for Stephanie, “I think she makes the best I’ve ever had.”

It took just a few minutes to scan the apartment, almost immediately finding what I was looking for, and then continuing through the living room, bedrooms, closets, kitchen, bath – finding no additional electronic eavesdropping, either aural or visual. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked, walking over to the stereo visible on the bookshelf when I’d finished. “Country? Rock? Disco?”

“Disco?” Cassandra laughed, “Just how old are you?”

“Hey, ya never know what people like,” I answered, holding up the next prepared note. White Noise — helps block laser listening devices. She nodded, and turned on some Elton John. The catchy beat of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road began through the speakers. I gave her the thumbs up, pointed at the potted plant in the center of the room next to the stereo, indicating I’d found something.

As soon as I was done sweeping the room, the meal was ready, and Cassandra and I stepped into the small kitchen to help carry things out to the table.

“What’s going on?” Stephanie mouthed to me, apparently taking my “Don’t Speak” to heart. I pulled my notes out again. Just making sure we’re not snooped on or listened to. Don’t talk about anything you’re thinking about until I give you the OK.” She read the note and passed it to Casandra, both of them nodding in understanding.

The conversation during dinner was normal, I asked all kinds of softball questions about Kathy during dinner, verbally expanding on my remorse for not having been there for her, expanding on my heartache that, with losing her, my entire family was now dead, repeating again how shocked I was to learn she’d died of a heroin overdose — how I’d never learned that she’d been into drugs. For the appearance of whomever would listen to this later, I was just a grieving brother commiserating with my sisters two co-workers. That what I was saying completely counteracted what Stephanie had told me the day before, she readily picked up on. Dinner over, I walked over to the open window blinds and looked out into the night. “Kathy always loved the night. Watching the stars, watching nighttime thunderstorms roll in.” I reached over and drew the blinds. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look into the dark again without thinking of her.” Turning I walked over to the stereo, selected some different music, and then pushed the potted plant off the shelf. It shattered on the hardwood floor with shards and potting soil spreading everywhere. “Oh my god, I can’t believe what an imbecile I am. Can you give me a broom and dustpan, I’ll clean it up.” Cassandra said it was in the kitchen, so I stepped toward her, purposely stepping on the miniature microphone that I’d exposed. I swept up the dirt and broken pot, pulling the crushed mic out and setting it on the table, before getting my equipment and sweeping the area once more. It was only the one mic.

Turning back, I walked back to the table and sat down. I pulled out my last note and passed it over. Give me your cell phones. They hesitated, but then did exactly that. I pulled the batteries, which they apparently didn’t even know how to do, and then quietly asked, “Is that all? Any old cell phones in a drawer or anything?” They both shook their heads no.

“Ok ladies, what’s up? I presume you have something in mind, and probably something illegal. I get it, Senator Jacobson is a bastard. He killed my sister, or at least you think he did, and he has the police and probably the FBI on his side.” I was talking quietly, and rolled my eyes around the apartment. “No place is ever completely safe to talk, but I found no other indications of bugs or cameras. The blinds block the visual, and the music creates reverberations which make it almost impossible for acoustic listening devices to pick up our voices if we’re talking quietly. But you’ll have to assume that anything you’ve ever said in this room has been listened to.”

Cassandra and Steph looked at each other. Stephanie whispered, “I’m pretty sure he trusts us.”

“You may be right,” I whispered, “but somebody put that bug here. If you’ve never done anything against him, I would guess his guard is down, but guys like him — they don’t get where they are by trusting anyone. I will guarantee that every e-mail, every phone conversation, anything happening in the office, is being spied on by him. Your… trysts with clients? I’ll guarantee that wherever you were, he was watching, someone was watching. He’s not paying you to suck cocks without confirming you’re doing it, and that the clients are getting their jollies from you. It’s got to be. He’s got to have something over these guys that he can use.” I looked at them, they seemed a bit sober. “So, am I wrong? You want to make him pay or what? What have you got in mind?”

“Sex of course.” Cassandra was the one that spoke up. “We’re going to ruin him. We’re going to blackmail him, make him voluntarily resign, and walk away from Washington. We’re going to make him go back home and never show his face on the political scene again. I’m going to make him pay for our silence. He doesn’t care about anything except money and I want to hit him where it hurts.”

I nodded some more, contemplating what she said and what Stephanie had told me. It took a minute for their scheme to begin to make sense. “And you need me for my security skills? My internet, my cameras, my monitoring, and to make sure you’re not being monitored,” I said, nodding my head around the room once more, “and all of that?” She nodded but, somehow, I knew that wasn’t all, something still didn’t add up. “But the Senator… he isn’t into women, is he?” I asked, the inkling of what I wasn’t understanding beginning to permeate through my denseness. Stephanie’s head slowly shook back and forth in a no. I glanced at Cassandra; she was just looking back at me.

She couldn’t really mean that, could she?

I just sat; nothing was said. “So far, I hear a half-baked scheme, with no chance of success. Perhaps you should tell me more?”

“We need you,” Steph began, “to also let him rape you and get it all on camera.”

~

The scheme was ludicrous, and I told them so. But, despite the half-baked feel initially, I found out they’d been doing their homework. The Hotel where the Senators attacks took place was monitored on his floor, anyone coming or going was on Hotel Security Cameras. Once inside, they were fairly certain that there were no cameras, although I was certain just the opposite was true. “So, when you seduce these marks, you take them back to his suite, or I guess you said you give them a key-card and let them come up for themselves?” She nodded. “I’ll guarantee you’re wrong. I’d bet every single sexual encounter you’ve had since you went to work for him has been recorded.”

Steph shook her head no. “No, I met a guy just before I started, and we dated for about three months… four months,” she corrected.

“And?” I prompted.

“We were pretty heavy into each other for a while. It didn’t work out.” Something in the way she said it, clued my next question. “And he broke up with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Again, she shrugged. “I told him.” She didn’t have to say what she’d told him, but I made her say it.

“You told him you’d been an escort in college. Probably some kinky or slightly kinky act that he pushed you for?”

“He wanted to pee in my mouth.” I nodded, waiting. “He wanted to know if I’d ever done anything like that before and I admitted I had. He wanted to know what boyfriend had ever done such a thing, and I told him it wasn’t a boyfriend, it had been a client.” We sat quietly for a moment.

“So, a day or so later he came back, and said that he couldn’t take that. It was OK for him to pee in your mouth, but that you had been an escort was too much.” She just looked at me and nodded.

“Whether you knew it or not, he went back and reported to the Senator that you were his girl. Probably only 5 or 6 weeks later did the Senator use you for the first time. Whether you knew it or not, I’ll guarantee the Senator had you checked out, before he offered you a job. Your so-called ‘boyfriend’ was the Senators boy, checking you out, making sure you would do what the Senator wanted. He knew you’d been an escort; it was just a matter of easing you back into it.”

“That Son of a Bitch.” I nodded, let her simmer down a bit before I turned to Cassandra.

“What about you?” It didn’t take much to discover that she also had been marked by a lover, although a female lover, and a previous secret that she really didn’t want known had come out.

“I was a stripper during college. I didn’t know how he knew, but he let me know when I went to work for him that he’d known I’d stripped.”

“Just stripping and dancing?” I asked. She just looked at me for a moment, and then shook her head no. I nodded, understanding that just like Stephanie, she’d sold more than just views of her body.

“The other girls too? He’s got something on each of them?” Cassandra nodded again.

“One more time, ladies,” I reiterated. “You’ve done a pretty good job, but I’d almost guarantee that you’ve not been good enough. The Senator must have an entire staff of people digging up dirt on everyone else. What makes you think he can be had?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m hoping you can help. Just like you swept this apartment, to sweep the Penthouse, install cameras, hook into the Hotel Security, and make it work for us, and then blackmail his ass.”

“What about his surveillance? Where is he keeping his dirt? Not only on others, but on you? Somebody put that bug in your living room, who, and when? Where has he got cameras that you don’t know about? What about the sexual favors that you’ve done for him, he can blackmail you with those as well as you can blackmail him with something else? And what exactly do you plan on gaining?”

“Senator Jacobson has $796 million in off-shore secret accounts, along with about $150 million in on-shore public accounts that he advertises to make people think he’s honest. I think $796 million split three ways would make a hell of an impact, and a video showing unequivocally him raping someone would ruin his political career. He was elected by an ultra-conservative constituency that would lynch him outright it that ever came out.”

~

I told them it was hopeless, that there was too much to do, not enough people, too much chance that their plan was already compromised. They didn’t want to admit that of course, but I told them no and left.

Later, in my hotel, I looked at the picture I’d put beside my bed of Kathy and me. The bastard. In my heart I knew they were right. Most likely, when the people that had paid him part of the $796 million he had in off-shore accounts had been unhappy about the failed vote that they’d paid for, he’d had to return the money, lost their trust, and had offed my sister in retribution. It was 4 am when I picked up the phone.

~

“Fuck Jim, it’s 2 am. This better be good.”

“Can you come to Washington?”

“This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“It’s about Kathy.” Larry had been sweet on Kathy forever, had never given up on that maybe someday she’d finally succumb to his desires.

“Oh crap, you’re kidding?” I could hear the woe in his voice when I told him she was dead. I said nothing. “What happened?”

“They found her floating in the Potomac. Officially a heroin overdose.”

“Bullshit.”

“Exactly. Can you come?”

“Yeah. Of course. Need me to bring anything?”

“Everything. I’ll send you an address tomorrow of where to ship it.”

~

It didn’t take long with Larry’s and my skills to find the electronic trails. Video feeds, audio feeds, we set up surveillance of the surveillance, using Jacobson’s own listening and recording devices. It didn’t take a genius to figure that the security vault for his materials was in his countryside mansion, but just as the information was going “to” him electronically, it could also come “from” him electronically.

I gave it two weeks before I called Stephanie again and asked her to come to my apartment. I’d rented a bare-bones apartment to save money. Although, when I was working, I did ok, I didn’t have buckets of money put away either. We’d rented a tilt-up garage space, installed our own security to monitor ourselves and our workspace, and Larry had put up a cot and slept there. He’d spent two weeks penetrating what he could of the Senators, but we’d still need some personal access.

“Steph,” I said, when she arrived. I motioned for her to be silent, and Larry swept her person and purse. Finding nothing, we popped the battery out of her cell phone. When he was done his eyes gave me the high sign. “This is Larry. My buddy and cohort for…” I paused, “too many years. He was also sweet on Kathy, always figured that when she came to her senses, she might become Mrs. Larry, but that never happened. So, he’s in, no questions asked that he doesn’t already know the answers to.”

Steph initially appeared stunned. “So, you think we can do it?”

“We’ve already gotten started. We’ve captured a lot of their monitoring and it’s now coming to us, but that’s not enough.”

“What do you need?”

“Mostly money, but we’ll need access to his computer.” She was silent for a moment.

“How much money do you need?”

“How much have you got?”

“I’ve got exactly $100,000 in a safe deposit box, and $186,000 invested. Cassandra has virtually the same.”

“Can we have some of it?”

“You can have all of it. If it helps us get that bastard, it will be well worth it.”

“We’ll have to cut Larry into a share you know, and we’ll probably have to leave the country forever. Whether we force him out or not, he’ll be after us.”

Larry had not asked about the payoff until then, but said “Just, um, how much are we looking at?”

“Probably $200 million, give or take,” I answered. He nodded.

“Split 4 ways? $50 million each?”

“Almost $800 million, $200 million each,” Steph answered.

Larry’s eyes bugged out. “Holy shit!”

“Yeah, and all of it illegal, and hidden. When we get it, he’ll never be able to admit he lost it, at least not legally.”

“What about access to his computer? Any way we can get close to that? Or, whether you can get close to that?”

“What do we have to do?”

“Ideally, I’d love to give you a USB flash that would automatically install and transmit everything we need from his own computer, but that’s very dangerous anymore, especially with a government computer. I’m guessing he’s got a personal computer, and a government/congressional computer?” Larry had taken over; it was his area of expertise. Stephanie nodded. “Ok, as expected,” we’ll steer clear of the government one, he won’t keep anything on that anyway. Especially the USB, that would trigger an unauthorized access alarm and the place would be swarming with FBI security people virtually before you could get out of the room. But all we need is his personal computer and for that…” He went into never-never land as far as I was concerned, and I tuned out. “Do you think you can do that?”

“Casandra can,” she answered, “she does all of that stuff in his office. How soon?”