New Order, New Opportunity Pt. 03

Geoff looked embarrassed. He was remembering the previous evening; much of it spent with his face buried beneath Kath'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 non-committally.

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 un-sponsored anything that helped keep you in a job, in your flat, and out of the camps was a good thing.

"Do you hear any more 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 Kath 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.