Fifteen More Minutes of Fame

...wait a second. Was it? Don't panic yet, I chided myself, and I shook his hand. "Um, Mr. Stallman, sorry for being blunt, but why are you here?"

"This isn't a professional visit, so you can call me Roger. I just wanted to talk with you about a couple things, mostly about what's going to happen on TV in two days. And don't worry: your mother doesn't know I'm here."

He'd said the magic words. All right, Carl, time to think fast, because you're not going to get another shot at this. "Sure, come on in." Shit. Pam needed to know first. "Actually can you give us like five minutes? We're, uh, in the middle of hot incestuous fuckin'. You know how it is, being young and hormonal and stuff."

"Look, kid, I'm risking my job coming here—"

"Two minutes, then."

"Can I at least wait inside? It's cold out."

"Fine, fine." I swung the door open and waved him towards the couch. "Uh, you may want to flip the cushions. We don't really get guests except a couple of folks from the tabloids trying to figure out what's up before the story breaks, and we don't generally make their lives any easier."

Stallman—no, I was supposed to call him Roger—looked like he wished he were anywhere else, but nodded dutifully and walked towards the sofa. I bolted for the bedroom and found Pam still curled up, now idly flipping through a book. "If it's a reporter, I hope you told them to fuck—"

I cut her off. "Pam, it's Roger Stallman. Mom's PR guy. Her number two."

Her eyes widened. "Really. What the fuck does he want?"

"Probably trying to get us to apologize or something so she can survive this. Doesn't matter. The point is we can use this. We can get him on our side."

"How?"

"He knows more about Mom than anyone else outside the family. You think he wouldn't hate her, too?"

She sat for a moment, thinking hard. "Okay. How do we do this?"

"I have no idea." I grabbed her hand and dragged her along with me. "Come on, we gotta go talk to him. I told him we were finishing up in bed."

"All right, I'm coming, no need to be a bastard about it."

"I'm many things, but I doubt that's one of 'em."

Roger started to stand as we walked into the room, but I waved him down. "No need for formality. Roger, Pamela. Pam, Roger Stallman." I grabbed a pair of chairs from the tiny dining room and shoved one towards Pam before slumping down in the second.

"So," Pam said.

"So?"

"So why're you here?"

He sighed. "I don't really know. The Senator wants this thing to stay off the airwaves, and I know it's not gonna happen for long, and I'm just trying to figure out how I can keep her in office." He held up a hand. "I know you don't want that. Or maybe you don't care if she stays in office. It doesn't matter. I guess I'm here because... well, I want to know what you want."

"World fucking peace," Pam said, straight-faced. "You think you can buy us off like that? Throw us a house in the hills or whatever and get us to say we're sorry, we didn't mean it?"

"Actually, yeah." Roger shrugged. "Maybe it's just the revenge, and you can get that by doing nothing, and she'll kill you for it. And I mean that. I'll deny saying it forever, but she will literally kill you for this. And if that's not an incentive, maybe money will help. Maybe it won't. But we've all got a price, kid, and I wanna know what yours is so I can get through this with my job, and my skin, in one piece."

"Yeah? And what about you? What's your price?" I had no idea where I was going with this, but, hey, I'd faked my way through all of this up until now, and it'd worked out pretty well so far. "Where'd your loyalty to that abusive piece of shit come from?"

"Well, for starters, she's paying me more than either of you will make in the next couple decades."

Pam actually snorted at that. "Oh for fuck's sake, Roger, you're not doing this job for the money. If you were, you'd be working for the Vatican or some asshole billionaire or some shit like that. How'd the bitch get her claws in you?"

Roger chuckled at that. "Point taken. Started off for the money and the challenge of it. How do you help somebody build an image of being a total nutjob and still keep 'em in power? Eventually I got used to the power. She doesn't confide in anyone, y'know, but I got to know her, and I hated what I saw, but... well, it's like a bad car accident. Awful, yeah, but you can't look away."

"Uh-huh." This all still seemed fishy somehow.

"Quick question, though, before I go on. What's up with your dad? Is he—?"

"No. We don't talk about him."

"I was just curious whether—"

"Roger, stop talking or get out right now, because if you ask a single thing about him I'll kill you. I will literally murder you and no one will ever find your body."

I nodded my approval. "We don't talk about him. Ever."

"Um. Okay." He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Anyway, I do PR for a living. All I do is spin stories and write lies and half-lies about the people I work for. I like to think I'm pretty good at it, but you kids... well, I gotta hand it to you. This was brilliant."

I glanced at Pam. "Look, Roger, if you think this was all some sort of revenge scheme—"

"Of course that's what it was, Carl, and I'd have to be a complete idiot not to see otherwise. I know perfectly well she ruined your childhoods, but kids don't turn to incest just because their mom used to call 'em worthless or hit 'em or whatever. I certainly didn't. You just gotta know that we're gonna have to call you out on it."

"Call us out on what?"

He rolled his eyes. "The fact that you're not actually screwing each other, of course. You put on a good show back there, and I appreciate you staying in character for me, but sooner or later somebody's gonna pin you down on this, and last I checked you haven't handed a sex tape to the tabloids yet."

"Have we?" Pam asked, looking over at me.

"Not unless you've been the one taping it," I said through gritted teeth. "So you're saying nobody believes us."

"Oh, no, plenty of people will believe you're doin' it, kid. Lots of people take that show as gospel. I'm just not one of 'em. And neither's your mom." Roger shrugged. "And even if I don't suggest it, she'll call you out on it as publicly as possible."

"Carl." Pam was glaring at Roger. "Take off your pants."

Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that. "I... what?"

"Take off your fucking pants, right now. If mommy's little helper over here isn't convinced yet, we're going to convince him. And he's going to go back to her and tell her that there's no bluff to call."

"Now look, kid—"

"Shut the fuck up and watch, Roger. Here's your fucking sex tape."

"But—"

"Take them off! NOW!"

"Guess you're getting a show, Roger," I said, trying to fake some confidence. He looked appalled, but he wasn't getting up to leave either. I unzipped my jeans and started sliding them down my legs. "You want them all the way off, or—" A hand jerked my head up and my lips met Pam's; my initial pain and confusion melted as I felt myself starting to get into it. I felt her slide onto my lap; she'd somehow already stripped off her sweats, and her panty-clad groin ground up against the growing bulge in my boxers.

She nipped at my lower lip, almost drawing blood. It worked, though, and I felt my cock give a little leap, like it was a dog and somebody had held up a piece of steak. A terrible analogy, but I was never much good at literary stuff like that. Especially not when Pam had managed to pull my hardening cock out of my shorts and was stroking it, still kissing me as hard as she could.

She was furious. No doubt about it. And she was pissed off enough that she was ready and willing to do this right here and now.

Hell, maybe she got off on this sort of thing. Not my idea of a great time, but, hey, as long as we both enjoyed it, right?

I snaked a hand up her shirt, fumbling for a breast. Finding one, I gave the nipple a light pinch, which earned me a smack on the back of the head, before I started caressing it, feeling her smooth skin radiating heat beneath my palm. She seemed lighter on my lap for a second; I was tempted to open my eyes and break off the kiss, but—

And then she was on top of me, and I was in her, and I was so unprepared for it that I almost lost it right then and there. We'd been fucking for a week, a glorious week, and she'd been on the pill, but this was still the first time we'd done it without a condom. The thought of it, of Pam forcing herself onto my bare cock as hard and deep as she could, was... well, it certainly didn't help with my sense of self-control.

I remembered, dimly, that we were still being watched, but I'd long since stopped giving a shit about Roger. I guess this had started off as proving something to him? I couldn't remember, and I couldn't care less.

She was riding me now, her muscles tensing as she lifted herself up an inch before slamming down and forward, driving myself into her. I tried to help, cupping my free hand around her ass, lifting when she did. Her breasts were bouncing a little under her shirt, moving with her body's momentum. Pam's face was inches from my own, eyes closed, mouth contorted into a still-angry line. I managed to land another kiss on those too-tense lips on her next downstroke, but she was moving erratically, now, and I couldn't find a working rhythm.

I knew I wasn't going to hold out much longer. This was just too much, too many things happening too quickly, and I couldn't process all of it in my head fast enough. She just kept driving herself forward, and I heard the chair legs slamming against the floor, and maybe I should have been worried about us tipping over and breaking something but I was lost in the sensations of it, lost in the feeling of being inside her like this, of being closer than we'd ever been, even if it was just a tiny bit more than before thanks to that missing piece of rubber, and there was just something amazing about skin on skin and the friction between our bodies and—

And—

And I lost it. More than I could handle. My fingers clenched involuntarily, probably leaving marks on her chest and ass, and I buried my head into her neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the orgasm surge through me. Maybe it wasn't quite as productive as the ones from earlier that night, but it was incredible nonetheless. All the more so because I knew I was actually coming directly inside of her.

But Pam hadn't finished yet, and she looked like she wouldn't stop until she did. So she kept riding me, even though my cock was softening and threatening to slip out. She sped up, gritting her teeth, as she approached the edge, and what felt like only a few seconds later she gave one last huge jolt, her lips meeting mine with bruising force.

We held each other like that for a minute, ignoring the growing stain on the chair, ignoring the fact that there was still someone in the room.

"Satisfied?" I managed to say, finally turning to look away from Pam. Talking was sort of difficult for some reason.

"Kid, shut up for a second and let me think." Roger was still sitting on the couch, still staring at us. He looked... I'm not actually sure how he looked. Intense, I guess, is one word for it. Not weirded out, either, which was surprising. "That wasn't just lust. It wasn't just being committed to this revenge thing. That was something more."

"Sounds like you're going to break into song, Roger." Pam's voice was breathless, but as acidic as ever. "You sound like you're writing a Disney screenplay."

"I mean it. Your mom screwed you over, you screw each other, and you screw her over back. Fine, that's all well and good, but that's not what this was. You... I think you two actually care about each other."

Pam's face was blank, and I was sure mine looked pretty similar. "Sure we do. Siblings are like that. We care about each other even when we're trying to kill each other."

"No, that's not good enough, kid. I mean you love each other. Like, you're actually in love." He still hadn't lost that intense look from his face. "If it's true, I need to hear you say it."

I looked at Pam, still flushed from our actions a minute ago. She met my gaze, her expression giving no hint as to what she was thinking. Then she cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

I thought about it. It didn't take very long. The kisses, the kindness, the general happiness with being near each other, the repartee and casual verbal cruelty we shared... Nah, it was probably all still bullshit, but what the hell. "I love you, Pam." Still, it was funny how saying a few words was so much harder than having sex in front of someone who was only one notch above being a complete stranger had been. "I really do."

And there it was. That elusive smile, the one that looked genuinely happy. "I love you too, Carl."

"Okay!" Roger clapped his hands together. "Enough sentimental claptrap. Let's take her down."

"You sure you're not actually working for Disney? Because if you're making career moves based on the 'power of love' or some shit like—"

"You don't spend thirty years—thirty years!—in politics and come out still thinking the world's a beautiful place, kid. What I wanted was confirmation that this'll last, because after we sink your mom's career I'm gonna help you two write a book. And by that I mean I'm gonna write a book and you two are gonna put your names on it and your mom will never be able to go out in public again. And I'm gonna get twenty five percent of everything that comes from it."

"A book deal? Seriously?"

"Yeah. No, really, I know what I'm doing. This is three-dollar paperback trash. This is the sort of thing that'll go in airport bookstores around the country. It's cheap, tasteless, sensationalized crap. And everybody loves cheap, tasteless, sensationalized crap." Roger pulled out a notebook and started scribbling violently. "I'll fly back to Chicago tonight. Gimme a day to get my end sorted out and make a couple phone calls. The episode hits the day after that; I'll tell the Senator she can go screw herself the morning of, and then I'll come back here and we'll watch the episode. And then the press conference after that. Because that'll be one hell of a show."

I was lost for words, for a second. At least Pam was still being rational. "And how do we know you're not just fucking with us?"

He grinned. "Two reasons. First, this." He tore off the page he'd been writing on and slid it over to her. "Informal contract. I've signed it; you need to, at some point, if you want it remotely legally binding. Basically says I'm not gonna run off, and that I owe you an awful lot of money if I do. And second, this." He tossed a USB thumbdrive on the table next to the paper. "That's proof, photographic and video, that your mom's been screwing her past three secretaries. All women. And an intern, too, but he's not as important. Brought a copy of those just in case you managed to convince me."

Pam and I looked at the paper, and at the drive. It took a second for everything he'd said to sink in. Finally, I found my voice again. "Roger, you... Why are you doing this? Why help us?"

Roger stood up and dusted off his pants. "Easy," he said, still grinning. "Your mom's a hypocrite, and she's a cunt. And I can't stand either of those things."

And with that, he was gone.

"Well," Pam said. "That was... that was interesting."

"A bit." We were silent for another minute. "Should we try and figure out how we're going to make this relationship thing work? Maybe talk about our feelings a little? Or d'you wanna go look at those videos first?"

"Give me five minutes. I'm gonna make some popcorn."

***

"Good afternoon." She stood painfully straight, both hands on her lectern. The room was full of reporters and journalists; some of them had been plaguing her for years. Worthless, all of them; they waited around for someone else to do something, someone to actually accomplish a task, and then they swooped in and tore it apart, feasting on loose ends and honest mistakes, all in the name of what they blatantly called "truth." Disgusting. "I have prepared a brief statement; afterwards, there will be ten minutes for questions."

She looked down at the podium, as if to look at her notes. She had no notes, choosing instead to commit everything to memory, and she was proud of never having simply read a speech in her time as a politician. "After years of love, faithful care, and affection, my own children have betrayed me and brought shame upon their family name. Time and time again, they strayed from the straight and narrow, turning aside from the path God had set before them; time and time again, I forgave them their transgressions. My husband and I did our best to teach them, to raise them justly, and to instill in them the morality and strength of character that was laid down in the Bible.

"Their latest breach of conduct is inexcusable. They have committed a sin far greater than any other, and they have attempted to place blame for their actions on me. They have accused me of being an unfit mother, and of filling their childhoods with misery.

"These claims are hurtful, and they are unequivocally false.

"Any sins they may have committed, any attempts to besmirch the family name and discredit a heritage that stretches back to the Puritans who settled on the shores of this great nation in 1635, are no one's fault but their own.

"I have stood for family values, for the vital importance of tradition, long before I first took office, and I stand by those values and traditions today. I offer no defense for my children's actions, and I join you in condemning their abhorrent behavior. There is no excuse, and there is no forgiveness in my heart. They have abandoned God's covenant, and they will find him far less merciful than I could ever be.

"Ten minutes for questions." Among the immediately upraised hands, she spotted one she recognized. An unapologetically liberal reporter, he had sparred with her in this room for years. Giving him the first question would show her commitment to her stance. "Yes, Santiago."

He stood, a curious smile on his face. "Senator, you've made your stance on what you call 'abnormal sexuality' quite clear in the past. Just for clarification: you view incest as being as severe as homosexuality, sodomy, rape, adultery, and so on?"

Her lip tugged momentarily upwards into a slight sneer. "Yes, of course. Next quest—"

"Because that raises a curious point, Senator." Santiago held up a thumbdrive. "I have, here, incontrovertible proof that you have engaged in multiple extramarital affairs, several of which were with other women." His smile broadened. "One of whom was underage."

The room went silent. She stared at the reporter and wished she were armed. Without a word, she left the lectern, ignoring the sudden flurry of shouted questions aimed at her back.

She found Roger's resignation letter on her desk when she returned to her office. She read through it once and then threw it away.

She'd survive. Oh, she'd make it through this, one way or another. There was no way she was going to let them get away with this. Even if it took her the rest of her life and all of her accumulated wealth, even if she had to do it with her own hands, she'd make them suffer until their dying day.

Somehow.

(A thousand thanks to M2VIIDS--without his editing skills, this story would be an unreadable mess.)