The Journo and the Pollie

My orgasm was as powerful as hers, and I hung on for dear life, our mouths locked together. I moaned into her mouth as she chewed on my lips, as my pussy pulsed and contracted around her fingers.

She was gone before I knew it. With one final kiss, she slipped away. "Mel, make the place your own. Treat it like it's yours." With that, she was gone. I made myself some breakfast and opened my email. Checking my private email, there was the one from Gage. Attached were a raft of documents. Some were about the ownership of Goldseal. Others were hire contracts from hire companies. The interesting parts were the hire contract timelines.

It was obvious that they were never hired for the full term of the initial contract. The costs were circled in red ink. There were lots of statements from ex employees. Luckily, there were contact numbers. That was my mission for the day. I started going through the list contacting and talking to them. One by one I worked down the list.

Some, of course, didn't want anything to do with me, but others, still angry at the way they were treated, were willing to talk. They all told similar stories. One gave me a new name. One of Goldseal's supervisors, who had just been sacked.

Taking a chance, I gave him a call. "Hello, is that Ian?" I asked.

"Yeah, whatya want?"

"I understand you have been let go by Goldseal?"

"Who the fuck told ya that?" he snarled.

"Brian Greene." I replied quietly. "He said you were pretty unhappy."

"Who the fuck are you?" he snapped curtly.

"My name is Melissa, I'm doing a story on Goldseal. I think they're up to no good."

"You're fucking right there," he barked. "Fucking pricks are ripping the government off. Fucking bullies, the lot of them. Yesterday they bawled me out in front of the whole team because they asked me to slow down the work. They wanted me to slow everything down. Stall as much as possible."

"Why?"

"Because the fuckers are making money hand over fist. They want to extend the contract because they have nothing coming up after this. Their work is so shithouse. They've got nothing. Once this project is finished, they're fucked."

"Ian, would you be prepared to give me a written statement, saying exactly what you just told me?"

"Yeah, fuck em. They can say what they fucking want. The fucking work crews are full of fucking bikies who know fuck all. They're dangerous as fuck. They don't care about safety. God knows how many injuries there have been. They cover every thing up."

We talked for a while, and he promised to send me an email outlining his concerns and his thoughts. He also had some emails from Carsworth, blasting him for being too fast and wanting the project to go slower.

That afternoon I sat in the lounge working through my list. I turned on the TV, switched to parliament TV and watched question time. I turned it on in time to see Jenny Carsworth and the leader of the opposition lambasting Ivy for the failures in the project.

They highlighted the project overruns and cost blowouts. Ivy had to take it as they handed out their verbal haranguing. She did get some support from her PM, but it was obvious Ivy was going to be the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.

It made my skin crawl. Why didn't Ivy fight back? She had some information, enough to discredit Carsworth. It angered me. I decided I had enough. After question time I rang using my contacts to organise an interview with Jenny Carsworth for that afternoon.

When she rang back she sounded uneasy. "Good afternoon, Melissa. You want to do an interview today?"

"Yes, please, if you have a spare moment. It seems our minister of roads has made a real mess of that highway extension. I have found out some things about her, and I would like to get your take on it, if you are available."

I heard a lift in her voice. "Well, yes I do have a half hour available. Could you make five-thirty, in my office?"

"Yes, perfect. Can you organise a pass for me?"

"Yes, it'll be at the desk."

I quickly gathered together everything I had. I walked in feeling nervous and apprehensive. I checked my phone and my audio recorder. The phone, I slipped into my shoulder bag, with the camera poking out. If I was careful, I was hoping to get video of the whole meeting. I would notify her I was going to record the session, and I would place my audio recorder on the table. It was a little underhanded, because her approval would unwittingly cover my filming it as well.

As I neared the front desk, I sucked in a deep breath. "Here we go, Mel. Jeez, I hope you know what you're doing."

I was escorted to her office and greeted by her assistant. "You will have to wait out here for a few minutes. Ms. Carsworth is on the phone."

I sat in the waiting area, feeling like I was outside the principle's office waiting for my punishment. Ten minutes later, Carsworth came out of her office looking a little flustered. "Melissa, come on in." She turned to her assistant. "Jane, would you bring us coffee, please?" She glanced at me. "How do you have it?"

"White, two sugars, please."

Carsworth led us into her office and sat behind her expansive desk. I pulled up the spare chair and sat opposite her. She sighed deeply as she brushed down her suede jacket. "All right, Melissa. What do you want to know?"

I fumbled with my audio recorder, and placed it on the desk between us. "Do you mind if I record this session? I have a terrible memory."

She sneered at my flimsy excuse. "That's fine. What do you want to know?"

"Well, first, I guess we should talk about Goldseal. You have made some very telling accusations about Ms. Lawson's management of the debacle that is the motorway extension."

She nodded. "Yes I have. I, like most people, think that she and the government need to be held accountable. Somebody has to pay for this. It is costing the taxpayers of this country fifty million dollars."

I nodded. "I fully agree. Somebody should pay." That drew a smile from her face.

I quickly extinguished that when I placed a document down on her desk. "Can you explain this, please, Minister? It says, and I have highlighted it in yellow, that you and your father are part owners of Goldseal."

With her smile quickly vanishing, she sucked in sharply. "Where did you get this?"

"It wasn't hard, Ms. Carsworth. I simply used the freedom of public information act to access the register of company ownership."

Her face paled quickly, her eyes dark. I flopped down another document. "This is a copy of the deed of ownership on your property, 267 High Street. That is also listed as being owned by Goldseal holdings."

I flopped down another one. "This is a copy of another document. It lists you, your husband Michael Carsworth, and your father, Alan Richardson, as the sole owners of Goldseal International. As best I can tell, it is an affiliate company that is financed by Goldseal NZ."

Her eyes screwed up tight. She reached across and slapped my recorder off the desk. "You little bitch. Where the hell did you get this from?"

"It's all publicly available. I can even give you the doc numbers, if you want to get them yourself."

She stood quickly. "Get out, you bitch. This interview is over."

I reached down to recover my recorder. "Ms. Carsworth. I was hoping to get your side of this before it goes public. If you can just explain to me, and the Dominion readers, why you are so aggressively attacking Miss Lawson. It might make it easier for you."

"Get out, you toxic little witch. I should have known better than trust a bloody reporter."

She flung open her door. "Get this thing out of here, please, Jane," she snarled contemptuously.

I shrugged. "Have it your way, Jenny. Let the record show, I did offer you a chance to explain your position."

"Get out!" she shrieked. Just then a security guard came running and escorted me out of the building.

By the time I got off the bus and walked into Ivy's place, the reality had started to settle in. God, what had I done. Inside, I rang Phil.

"Well, imagine that. It's my one time reporter, Mel. Thought you must have resigned."

"Don't be a prick, Phil. I have a story for you if you're interested?"

"Oh shit, is it that bloody Carsworth story?"

"Sure is. Do you want it?"

"Okay, girl. What have you got?"

I laid it all out, listed all the docs I had, all the interviews, and the video and audio of my meeting with Carsworth.

"All right, Mel. I need it tonight, as early as possible. I want to run it in the morning, but I need to get the legal eagles across it first."

"I have already written the story. I just need to add something from the meeting this afternoon."

There was a slight pause before I heard him say softly, "Good job, kiddo."

I decided to raid Ivy's fridge and get dinner on the way. There wasn't much in the way of food. I guess on her salary she could afford to eat out every night.

I had no time to shop. I needed to finish the story. I set up in the spare bedroom and scanned all the documents, finished writing the article, and emailed it all to Phil.

He called me back moments later. "Christ almighty, Mel. This is going to blow their arses out of the water. Jenny Carsworth is going to be toast."

"There's more Phil. This is only the first element. I know for a fact the Demons are running drugs in and out of the country using Goldseal's equipment. I am so close to getting that info. I have some, and if Gage sends me what he has, then they are all going to jail."

"Jesus, girl, tread carefully. We have talked about this."

"No, Phil, they are dealing drugs, they need to go down."

It was about eight when Ivy walked in looking exhausted. When she saw me sitting on the sofa, she burst into tears. "Well, I think you're looking at the ex Minister of Roads. Back benches, here I come."

I rushed to her, my arms circling her and dragging her into a hug. "It's going to be okay, Ivy. I promise. Everything is going to be okay."

"Oh, I don't know, Mel. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. I'm over it. I have had the arse kicking of all time tonight."

I guided her to the breakfast bar and helped her up on the stool. "Sit here, while I try and make us some of those sexy margaritas you made the other night."

She giggled. "God, that would be nice, just pour the bottle of tequila into a big glass."

I went back to the bedroom, pulled out my story and all the associated docs. I placed it down in front of Ivy, who had her elbows resting on the counter top, her head in her hands. "Read this. It might make you feel better." She glanced up at me. "I'm going to make those damn margaritas, while you read."

I walked over to her liquor cabinet. Finding the tequila, I found a couple of Martini glasses and set about my task.

I was rubbing the lime around the rim of the glasses when I heard her exclaim loudly. "Fucking hell, Mel."

"Feeling better are you?" I asked.

She jumped down and ran into my arms. "Oh my god, Mel. Oh lord. Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, they threatened you."

"Yeah, but I'm safe now. I have a hideout."

Ivy giggled as she watched me struggle to make the damn drinks. She grabbed the glasses. "Let me do that."

She finished making the drinks as I moved behind her, my arms draping over her shoulders, my lips kissing the nape of her neck, my teeth nibbling at her ear lobes as she giggled. "Stop it, god! I'm going to spill this everywhere."

She made us the drinks and we moved back to the breakfast bar. "Ivy, it might pay if you gave the PM a call. This story is going out in the morning edition. He is going to get bombed by the media as they seek out answers. He will need to be all over it."

We sipped our drinks. "Yes, you're right. I should call him now."

I pulled out my phone and emailed my story to her, with all of the attachments. "You can send him this. It's a copy."

She smiled. "God, you're a saviour, Mel."

"You knew all this Ivy. Why didn't you drop it at question time?"

She winced. "I was scared that they might target you. The last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt."

Her words really affected me. "You were going to let them roast you because of me?"

She nodded. It was an almost embarrassed shameful admission.

"Then you might be right, Ivy, you might not be tough enough for politics."

Her face dropped, and she looked forlorn. I kissed her. "Wow, relax, babe. I was joking. It's nice to know that you like me, though."

Her face took on a soft, haunted expression. "Mel, I don't like you. I love you. I know that sounds ridiculous, absurd, but it's the truth, I have never felt anything like this in my life. My tummy is knotted up. My heart pounds when I see you. I can't think of anything else."

"I love you too, Ivy." The words were out before I could stop them. Her eyes bugged out, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck as her mouth collided with mine and we shared a kiss so deep I wondered whether I would survive. As she let go, I wondered if I would get the bends as I came up for oxygen.

We finished our margaritas, and Ivy rushed off to call the PM. While she was on the phone, I called the pizza place and ordered a pizza.

Ivy wandered out about an hour later, and the expression on her face said it all. She looked a long way happier. As she walked up to me there, was a bang on the door. She gave me a curious glare and I said, "Pizza."

She nodded and reached for her purse. "No, I got this." I replied.

A little later, with another margarita we scarfed down our garlic bread and pizza. "I was going to cook, but then I looked in your refrigerator. Do you know how to cook?"

She giggled, that cute little snorting giggle, and replied apologetically, "Sorry, I just don't get time. Sheesh, sometimes I don't get home till nine or ten. Plus, it doesn't seem worth it cooking for myself."

"Well, we better get some groceries in, because I can't afford to be eating out all the time."

"But I can." Ivy gushed. "Mel, after what you have done for me, I will need to pay for everything from now till eternity."

"Don't be silly. You can't pay for everything."

We had a few more margaritas before going to bed. As weird as it was at first, it was quickly becoming my new normal. Snuggling up together felt right, it felt like a sleepover, a pyjama party with lovemaking.

The lovemaking took me to new highs. I didn't come into the relationship as a virgin, I'd had a few lovers, but nothing like this. I enjoyed sex with my boyfriends; it had been enjoyable, without being incredible. This sex was off the chain. Orgasms were so powerful.

Over all, though, it was the intimacy. Ivy and I seemed right for each other. We shared all the same likes and dislikes. She fit me like a glove.

---------------------

As we lay in bed, enjoying a quiet post-lovemaking cuddle, we heard the fire sirens and police cars racing somewhere. Ivy walked out onto the balcony to see what the fuss was about. It wasn't obvious at first, although Ivy said. "They seem to be headed over towards your place."

I walked out onto the balcony, just as my phone rang. It turned out to be the police. The phone call was not only to alert me. My car had blown up, but they needed to check that I was safe. They asked where I was, and whether I was safe.

Because Ivy had alerted them to my problem with the Demons, they were aware that something was amiss.

It didn't just shock me. I saw the look of shock on Ivy's face as well. We sort of fell into a soothing embrace, although I'm not sure who was comforting who.

The story broke in the morning, and it was explosive, pun intended. We got the drop on all the other national newspapers. Of course, we were linked to other media outlets and the story featured on the morning news, on TV, and radio. Ivy and I watched the morning news show in amazement. They had all the documents I had forwarded to Phil. There were interviews with the PM, who was taking all the credit for bringing the story in the public eye.

I did have a little giggle when he was asked, "It seemed to all of us in the media that you were losing patience with Ivy Lawson. We expected her to be cut from cabinet. Now, suddenly, you've got her back."

He nodded. "Yes, it may have seemed that way, but Ivy has been doing a stellar job. This is something we have talked about. Ms. Carsworth has been on our watch list for a while. The SFO is, in fact, carrying out their own investigations into Goldseal."

Ivy and I shared a juicy kiss as she left for work. I took the bus into the police station to discuss my car. I told them in detail about the visit from the Demons. Ivy had already alerted them, but I had to give an in depth statement, and the reasons for why the Demons might have been driven to putting the frighteners on me.

I didn't want them to dig too deep into the gang because I was afraid they would shut up shop. I wanted them to pay for the trouble they caused me.

After finishing at the station, I wanted to keep a low profile. I hoped that with the police now involved, it might make them think twice.

I went straight back to Ivy's place; at least I was safe there. I made coffee and sat out on the balcony, trying to get my head around how to find out how, or when, the Demons were going to ship their next load of drugs, I felt sure seeing as how Goldseal was going to get cut down, they would try and make the next load a big load.

I was startled, and dragged from my thoughts, when my phone rang. "Hello, is this Melissa?" A woman's voice almost whispered.

"Yeas, speaking. How can I help?"

"I was given your name by Gage Robson."

"Yes, I know Gage. Who exactly am I speaking to?"

"My name is not important. Gage said you wanted information about the Demons' involvement with Goldseal."

"Yes, I am looking for leads, it would help if I knew who I was talking to."

"Do you want the info or not?" she snapped with a tinge of bitterness."

"Yes, all right, I'm interested, but how do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't, and I don't care. It's a take it or leave it offer."

"Okay, let's hear it?"

"Goldseal is shipping some large machinery back to NZ. I have seen the inventory. It is big, very big."

"Well, that's not illegal. Why would I be interested?"

"Melissa, we both know what happens with those shipments. Gage told me he gave you the heads up."

"You're saying there's going to be drugs in that shipment?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just telling you, they are shipping equipment back to NZ next week. The ship is scheduled to leave Melbourne on the twenty-first."

"Do you know the name of the ship?"

"Yes, it's the Valma, Registered in Singapore."

"Look, why are you giving me this information? Why not just go to the police?"

"Because I don't trust the police. If you want to bust the Demons, go for it. I have given you what you wanted." The phone went dead in my hands. I tried the auto-redial, but it was an unlisted number.

My reporter's instinct took over. First, I needed to verify the ship existed and get its sailing times. The first part was easy. Yes, the ship existed, it was listed against one of the largest shipping companies in the world. Right, step one. The ship existed.

Departure times were easy. It was indeed docked in Melbourne, and was scheduled to sail on the twenty-first.

Getting an inventory was the impossible part. I had no contacts in Australia. I rang Phil seeking advice.

"Phil, do you have contacts in the maritime industry in Australia?"

"Yeah, good morning to you, as well, Mel. Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I got a tip off that Goldseal is shipping a load of machinery from Melbourne to Auckland on the twenty-first. I have the boat name, but I can't find out if Goldseal does have equipment on it."

His breathing was loud and laboured as he contemplated. "Well?" I asked.