Politics Ch. 04

That gave Rebecca the opening she wanted. Get to the point, get what she wanted, and get out of there. "Yes, Erika. She's the one who set up our meeting. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're prepared to look at my proposition."

"Grateful?" he murmured, almost making the word sound dirty as his eyes dropped to her cleavage and back again. From the glint in them, this could be much easier than she thought. "So... why don't you tell me how I can help?"

The question threw her out of her stride. She'd thought he'd be fully up to date. "Erika didn't send you the business plan?"

"Oh, yes," he murmured, picking up his own glass of water and sipping it as if he were tasting fine wine. "And I've read it through. Thoroughly. A very impressive document, I have to say. Makes the case admirably. But before I invest, I like to hear from the person I'm investing in. A business plan is one aspect, but this is much morepersonal, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," she smiled back, wondering exactly what it was he meant. "What I need is a loan, Guus, to open an exercise studio here in London. When it's successful, I'll look to open more, so you'll get an excellent return on your investment."

"My investment..."

She nodded. Erika had told her to start with the bottom line, so she did. "Thirty thousand pounds."

The amount seemed much greater now that she actually said it out loud. It was serious money. The small whistle the Dutchman gave through his teeth confirmed her fears. Was she asking for too much? Erika hadn't thought so. Hell, he was a millionaire! What was she thinking about!

"I have five thousand pounds of my own," she continued, leaning forward in her enthusiasm. His eyes dipped to her deep cleavage.That's it, Guus,she thought, holding the pose.Keep looking. "That's going into the venture, too. Upfront. So you can see I'm serious about this. But I need the loan if I'm to make the whole thing viable."

He looked at her quizzically, as if contemplating the position. "That's an awful lot of money," he said at last. "Perhaps you feel it doesn't mean that much to me because of my wealth? But I didn't make my fortune by wasting it on someone so young and for an unproven venture."

"Wasting it?" she blurted, starting to feel uncomfortable. This wasn't going the way she'd imagined. "Guus, it's a great investment..."

***

Once the obligatory handshakes and photographs had taken place, the three political leaders were taken to the large dining room. The press, predictably enough, were waiting for them. Although Alistair's announcement that he was required back in London drew murmurs of disapproval, the delay in presenting the food on offer seemed more of a problem for the assembled media.

"Personal matter," Thomas and Sally kept repeating, sticking to the party line when they were subsequently asked his whereabouts. "But we'll be more than glad to field any questions you have."

Erika floated around in the background, drawing attention through her stunning looks rather than through any political aspect. She stayed firmly on that particular script, referring all questions to her two colleagues. Even so, Thomas quickly appreciated what a wonderful draw she was. Perhaps he could set up a deal with one of the magazines?Hello, perhaps?

The buffet style lunch was specifically designed to ensure the media had full access to the three leaders and their PR people, press, providing a more detailed and intimate briefing as possible. With Alistair on his way to the airport, Thomas and Sally worked overtime, particularly as the Conservative Leader was the main topic of conversation after his performance.

Thomas found himself sharing Erika's frustration. He'd worked bloody hard to set this up, and it was the perfect opportunity for Alistair to reinforce his good work during the debate. There wouldn't be too many more chances like this as the General Election day loomed.

All he could do was make the best of the situation, and he made sure he and Sally did exactly that. Dealing with the political questions was straightforward enough, of course. The Conservative Party's manifesto was out there, and their policies had been crystal clear for some time, even if Alistair had been able to make them sound fresh and incredibly attractive during the debate.

No, the real opportunities lay in extolling Alistair's virtues.

'The People's Hero' was a phrase bouncing around Thomas's mind. That's what he'd come over as in the hall, and if he could get a leading broadsheet to latch onto it, the publicity would be worth its weight in gold.

"You're joking," Sally gasped, when he whispered it to her.

"It's great," he quietly told her, low enough so that they couldn't be overheard. "Everyone's agreed his performance was exceptional, but we need a hook to hang it on, something of substance. Push it."

Thomas comfortably coped with his absence, offering the leading press—the real influencers—future sessions with the now sought after Conservative Party leader. In groups, of course, he explained, to maximise their coverage in view of the natural time constraints. But he'd ensure it was worth their while.

Reaction was even better than he could have anticipated. This morning had seen the start of the snowball, and with careful press and campaign management, it would roll all the way into number ten.

Erika drifted away towards the end of the session, telling them that her favourite dressmaker awaited. With Alistair gone, she wouldn't be available for the two press dinners that Thomas and Sally were hosting that evening, but she'd catch up with them both for a full briefing at the airport tomorrow before their return flight.

That was okay, they could handle everything from here. In fact, Thomas preferred it that way. It allowed him the control he needed to do things his way. Influencing the media wasn't easy. Sally was good at it, and so was he. They could have them eating out of their hands if they played their cards correctly. And Thomas was good at cards, too...

Time to wrap up, he thought, when the majority of the remaining media decided it was time to depart to a nearby hostelry. Sally was dealing with someone across the room, but when the look on her face changed and she sent ahelp meglance across at him, he realised they'd hit a problem.

He smiled his way through the departing press and across to where she was standing. Her posture looked as uncomfortable as her expression, the hint of relief when he took her arm palpable.

"This is Jack Murphy," she told him, nodding at the spindly, reporter standing a couple of feet away. "From theBelfast Telegraph."

"Northern Ireland's leading daily," the bald man dryly explained.

"Pleased to meet you," Thomas smiled, shaking the limp hand. He didn't recognise the man, which meant he wasn't one of the regulars covering the election. A local hack, no doubt. So what the hell was the problem?

"So, Jack, how can we help you?" he asked, his voice at its warmest and friendliest.

"Your boss," the man said in a thick Irish brogue. He pushed his rimless glasses back up his nose. "Has he ever mentioned the name Mary O'Leary?"

"No. Should he?"

"Mary O'Leary is a young woman from Derry," Murphy explained. "She met Mr. Brinkley-Jones when he was over here, eight months ago."

"Okay," Thomas answered, his heart sinking into his boots at the thought of what was coming next. No! Please God. It couldn't be!

"She gives birth next month," the gaunt man stated, not a flicker of a smile anywhere near his face. "I'd like a quote from your boss."

Oh fuck!

"A quote. In relation to what, Jack?"

He knew the answer before the thin reporter told him. "As to whether he's rebutting her accusation that he's the father."

Ohhh fuuuuuck!

"I'll keep it quiet until you get back to me," the Irish reporter said. "We want this to stay as my exclusive, after all. Here's my card. Call me tomorrow or it'll be all over the front page."

***

Kessen allowed the vision across the desk to see the doubt written all over his face. Maybe he should be in movies? She really believed his hesitation!

The Brazilian beauty had walked into his office full of confidence, thinking she only had to shake her tits to get what she wanted. Think again. Money was power. It was why the overweight Dutchman had been so successful in seducing women. Okay, there'd been a few regrettable failures, but he didn't intend to allow this voluptuous creature to be one of them.

Normally, he would have come straight out with it, but that wouldn't work with this one. He was aware of her Brazilian temperament. He'd even seen it once, when she'd laid into a drunken restaurant waiter who'd been trying to belittle Thomas. She'd been wonderful. Just think how wild and uninhibited she'd be in bed.

Whatever she thought, Guus Kessen wasn't anyone's fool. He'd seen the way she'd looked at him when they'd met at the occasional function. Okay, he may have leered at her, but her response was one of disgust. They'd see how disgusted she became when his cock was buried inside her!

But for now, one step at a time. He wanted her to be willing. But if he had to force her, he'd get a kick out of that, too.

"The business plan is on the table behind you," he murmured, smiling at the nervous beauty as he waved his hand. "Pass it across to me, would you?"

He didn't need the document, of course. But women were like business deals. Take it slowly. Make them wonder. Give nothing away. His eyes ran over her body as she took a step towards the table to pick up the blue file. Those firm buttocks made his mouth water, and he loved the way the short and loose sundress draped across them. When she turned back towards him, her superb unsupported breasts heaved in time with her heavy breathing.

"Very impressive," he murmured when she passed him the file. He waited for the explosion. There was none. In normal circumstances, even a hint of his eyes so obviously on her body would have provoked a negative reaction. Erika had been right, she really did need this money.

Rebecca blushed as she silently sat back down again with a slight bump. Her breasts bounced deliciously under her dress. Kessen licked his lips at the sight. His gaze found hers but instead of blazing their disapproval back at him, she crossed her slender legs and kept her eyes down, looking into her lap.

"So, you'll help?" she eventually asked, feeling her nipples harden like two little bullets as a result of his blatant gaze. If she weren't careful, she'd lose control of this situation. Lose her dream.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well actually, Rebecca. I do want to help you. I want to help Thomas. And I want to help Erika."

She smiled with relief. "Thank you..." she began.

"But the proposition has to work," he interrupted.

"It does work!"

"Yes, yes," he patiently smiled. "On paper it does. Of course, business is not concluded on paper. I find the personal touch is more important, don't you?"

"Personal touch?" It was the second time he'd made the comment. Time to understand exactly what he was getting at. What would this cost her?

"Personal touch," he repeated. "People are what make businesses work. How much effort they put in. How much they're willing to sacrifice. How far will you go, Rebecca?"

She paused for a second. This was it. The bastard was putting her to the test. How far was she willing to go in pursuit of her dream?

Kessen rose and slowly walked around the desk. Her worried eyes nervously followed him. The Dutchman straightened his blue silk tie, smiling at her as he moved closer. He smoothed a hand through his curly, black hair. "How much do youreallywant this, Rebecca?"

He saw the frown cover her forehead. He had her where he wanted. His heart beat faster at the thought of that fabulous body being exposed to him. Stopping behind her, he slipped his podgy hands onto her slim shoulders. "How important is it?" he persuasively asked again.

She sat quietly, knowing where this was going, but only too well aware of her limits. She wouldn't betray Thomas, not even for this.

"Rebecca," his comforting voice continued. His fat fingers dug into her tense muscles through the material of the dress. "If I understand this correctly, I'm your last hope? I know how tough this must be for you. I can feel the tension in your shoulders. We both know I can help you, don't we? Try to relax and think about what I'm saying."

He eased his fingers forward. Slowly. Giving her the chance to resist. She didn't. Her body was shaking, but she made no move to stop him. His fat fingers dipped down over the slope of her shoulders and edged closer to her tawny skinned breasts that were so clearly on show under the red dress.

He continued his soft persuasion. "Don't throw this chance away. I can give you your dream, Rebecca. What do you think?"

She felt her breath coming in short pants. He hadn't overtly suggested anything, but she was only too well aware of what he was proposing.

"Let's work on that tension whilst you think," he whispered, smiling down. From his position, he could almost see her nipples. He could feel himself growing hard. His fingers lightly massaged her lower neck, caressing the soft skin just inside the fabric of her dress. Each stroke edged a little more of the material away and revealed even more of her cleavage.

"Please, stop, Guus," she said, her voice a strained whisper. It was difficult to think. She lifted her right hand onto his.

He could see her nipples pushing against the material. His soft caresses were having the desired effect. So was his promise of helping her attain her dream. Only her stupid loyalty to her boyfriend was stopping her from succumbing. He needed to help her find a way across the mental barrier.

"Rebecca, we need to get rid of all that tension. You know that. And thirty thousand pounds... thirty thousand pounds! The dream you want. All yours!

She dropped her hand away from his. "Guus..."

His stroking fingers dipped lower inside her dress. They flirted with the swell of her breasts. Her delectable mounds erotically rose and fell. He had her where he wanted and wasn't about to let his prey escape.

"Guus, I can't think straight," she told him, but even as she uttered the words, his wrists pushed the thin straps of the sundress from her shoulders, the top dropping to her waist. Her jutting breasts were exposed.

Her dark skin added to the wonderful eroticism of the sight below him. Her wonderfully full swells looked impervious to the forces of gravity and already, her dark nipples were bullet hard and begging to be sucked.

This magnificent woman was his!

***

"You've cancelled your appointments for the afternoon?" Brian Sterling snapped, waving the nervous woman into his office. "Come in, come in."

Katie shuffled forward, gently pushing the door closed behind her.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he continued. "Why?"

Her answer was to the point. "Alistair Brinkley-Jones."

Sterling removed his black wood half rim eyeglasses and waved them in the direction of the large couch in the corner of his office. Katie quickly took the indicated seat, leaning forward as she rested her elbows on her knees.

"What did Alistair say about his visit yesterday," she hesitantly asked.

The Senior Partner paused, twirling the glasses in one hand and then popping one end of the black frames into his mouth. Katie watched him closely. Why the hell was he deliberating?

"Come on, Brian," she insisted. "I feel like I'm working with one hand behind my back already. If you really want me to help him, don't hold out on me. I'm not asking for any personal secrets, just an overview of whether he found our time together helpful."

The Scot slowly nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "You're quite right, of course. Yes. Yes, he did, Katie. He found the whole thing very difficult. Not the process, or how you handled it, but just getting to the point of admitting his problem to you."

"I see," she softly replied. The pieces of the jigsaw fitted so far.

"What... what exactlyisthe problem?" Sterling asked.

Katie's head jerked up. "You don't know?"

"No, I don't," the Senior Partner confessed, slipping his glasses back on again as if they offered some protection from his embarrassment. It wasn't a question she could answer, even in these circumstances. A patient's issues were always confidential between them and their psychiatrist. "I'm sorry," he quickly added. "Unprofessional."

"Did he say he wanted to continue?"

"Yes," Sterling answered, linking the fingers of both hands as he stared at her. "He was insistent on it, in fact."

"That's why I've postponed my appointments," Katie explained. "Diana is rearranging them. You said to give him priority, that's what I'm doing."

The Scot nodded again. "Yes, I understand. I appreciate that, Katie."

She leant back for the first time since she'd sat on the couch. The next piece of news wouldn't go down quite so well. "I'm seeing Alistair at his house."

Sterling's eyes widened. "His house?" he snapped.

Katie nodded bashfully. It was against all the rules. "That's why I wanted to run it past you," she told him.

"Run it past me?" he said, standing and resting his palms on the antique desk. "The answer is no. We don't see patients at their houses. It's out of the question, Katie. You know that as well as I do."

"I'll cancel, then," she told him, her voice calm as she met his eyes head on. "But Brian, it was you who asked me to help Alistair. As a favour! And you've stressed the importance of confidentiality. You've even threatened to fire anyone who mentions his visit."

The Senior Partner slowly sat back down, mulling over her words. She pressed them home.

"He can hardly come in here for another appointment, can he? He asked me to visit him incognito at his home and I said I would have to check with you. But if you want me to help him, you tell me. What else can I do?"

Sterling stared at her for a few moments. Long enough for Katie to think she may have overstepped the mark. Her voice softened. "Brian, I'm trying to help your friend. And I'm trying to protect his and your confidential relationship at the same time..."

"Yes," he interrupted, conceding the position. "You're right. And you've dealt with it as you should, talking to me first. I can't say I'm happy about the situation, but I'm hardly in a position to complain."

"I'll do my job."

Sterling nodded again. "I know that, Katie. Just one word of warning. If it goes beyond your job, I want to know. Immediately."

The attractive woman felt herself begin to blush. Brian had always been incredibly intuitive. "Why would it go..."

"Because I've seen the way the two of you looked at one another. Twice now."

Her blush deepened. "My private life..."

"Don't go there!" It was the only time she'd ever heard him raise his voice, even fractionally as it was. "Katie, as far as a relationship with a patient is concerned, you and I both know it's off limits. Especially this one, and particularly as he has a rather public and popular girlfriend!"

"Brian..." she weakly began.

"Katie, I'm not suggesting anything. I have no idea whether this instant attraction that's so obvious might lead to anything. And I have no wish to know. But you need to understand one thing. This firm comes first above anything else. Iwon'thave our reputation damaged."

The dark haired psychiatrist stared at her boss, fully understanding what he was saying. She knew how highly he thought of her, but was also aware that he job was on the line—any partner's job was on the line—if they damaged the reputation of the business. She was also aware that if he had any idea of the nature of Alistair's problems, he'd withdraw her from his case in an instant.