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Dirty Tricks, chapter 5

Sex and subterfuge, politics make strange bedfellows

9:48 am

Heather’s heart was racing like a deranged metronome. Time was her enemy, and the life of her mayoral campaign was fading away with each passing second. 

Fuck the campaign! My entire life will be in ruins if those pictures get out!

Guiding her Audi onto the expressway, she slammed the sole of her five-inch stiletto onto the pedal and the rapid acceleration forced her back into the seat as the needle raced beyond 90. Frantically weaving through traffic, she split her gaze between the cars flying by and the estimated time of arrival illustrated on her GPS. 

10:05 am

Son of a bitch! Three minutes to park and five more to reach her office meant she would arrive as Trish received the mail. She was going to be late. Briefly, Heather hoped her campaign manager would also be late, but Trish lived her life with a Marine Corps sense of punctuality. Heather knew she would be there, right on time. 

Fuck!

Braking, she slowed as the traffic ahead snarled around a pair of trucks. Her mad dash paused, she searched desperately until a gap appeared between the vehicles. It was the briefest of openings but Heather timed it perfectly, accelerating into the open lane ahead. 

Her mind was ablaze with possibilities. Would she be able to keep Trish from opening the envelope and finding the next batch of incriminating photos? Even if she did, could she keep her from growing suspicious? It was possible Trish might even help her contain the scandal. Then again, she might not. She’d been hurt when Heather broke things off — but time seemed to have healed that wound. 

Had the pictures been of anything else, Heather knew Trish would be the consummate professional she was hired to be, but these weren’t just any pictures. Heather had been caught fucking Sean, and that particular bit of indiscretion might well push Trish into a rage. Fuck! Why did it have to be Sean! Holy Christ.

It was bad enough that he was her opposition in the race, but Sean was also Trish's fraternal twin and the two hadn't spoken in years. This could trap Trish in a scandal involving everyone she ever loved. Heather couldn't imagine anything that would make her feel more betrayed. The more Heather thought about it, the more certain she became that Trish would go berserk. 

Heather swept aside her grim contemplation as she pulled into her space. As quickly as a woman in heels can run, she dashed for the elevator, determined to somehow intercept her blackmailer’s envelope before Trish got her hands on it. The wait while the lift rose seventeen floors felt interminable. By the time it pinged, and the doors slid apart, Heather’s gut was wrenching in fear. 

Of course, Trish was on time and she’d retrieved the morning mail by the time Heather left the elevator. As part of her duties, she habitually separated piles of junk mail from her boss’s important correspondence. Most of these were easy to identify, coming from familiar donors or various media outlets covering the race. 

In the stack was a large, manila envelope lacking a return address. To Trish, this would be suspicious in any event, but when addressed to a mayoral candidate, it was downright ominous. She contemplated opening it but hesitated as she remembered Heather having a similar envelope just a day earlier. She was fingering the seal when her boss bustled into the room. 

Taken aback, Trish eyed her friend with a familiarity shared only by lovers. Even though it had been years since they were intimate, she instinctively knew something was seriously amiss. Heather was visibly unsettled, but more worrisome was the tangible glint of fear in her piercingly green eyes. 

“Hey, are you okay? You look like someone just walked over your grave.” 

Groaning inwardly, Heather silently cursed Trish’s notoriously persistent curiosity. Fighting to compose herself, she offered a wave as dismissive as she could muster “Thanks, Trish,” she replied. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, really. The campaign is starting to get to me, that’s all.”

Setting the envelope aside, Trish held Heather’s hand and skeptically regarded her friend. Something had been off with Heather for days, and her concern flared into a deeper suspicion. Clenching her jaw, Trish’s brown eyes bored into Heather’s. 

“Bullshit, I know you too well to believe that. You’ve been an emotional mess these last few days and I want to know what the hell is going on. Don’t you dare tell me it’s the campaign. There’s something else happening here and I know you too damn well for you to pretend otherwise.”

Heather’s stomach knotted as Trish’s perceptive gaze burned into her. Her campaign manager was like a bulldog when she caught the scent of trouble. With her so close to seeing those explicit images of her fucking Sean, desperation clawed at Heather’s throat. What happened next was due as much to her survival instinct as a latent desire for her friend.

With Trish’s hand hot on hers, Heather pulled her close, her arm circling around Trish’s neck. Kissing her hard, she allowed her fear to reignite the burning heat she once felt for her former lover. 

Shocked to her core, Trish stiffened, trying in vain to resist Heather’s advance. For a single heartbeat, Heather feared she might actually pull away, but just as she had so many years before, Trish’s svelte body relaxed, easily succumbing to Heather’s will. 

Returning the kiss with a nearly-forgotten passion, Trish’s lips slid over Heather’s, inviting her tongue into her mouth and flicking it with her own. Their breathing became heated, laboring deeply as they again roused to the sensual touch of another woman’s body. 

Not since the breakup had Heather sought to rekindle their affair, but once that desire was released, there was no turning back. Gliding her hands over Trish’s ass, she dug her nails into her flesh and Trish groaned. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” Trish whispered, panting even as Heather unbuttoned her blouse. 

A wickedly mischievous glint flashed in Heather’s eyes as she paused to lock the door. “Maybe we shouldn’t. But, with the door locked, we’re not going to be disturbed.”

Heather’s unexpected aggression had Trish reeling, but then Heather had always been a shameless slut. It had been so long since Trish had fallen under Heather’s spell that her will to resist evaporated like the morning dew. With her ass pressed against Heather’s desk, she could respond only with her own, passionate kiss. Without further complaint, Trish surrendered to Heather as her blouse was slid off her shoulders. 

Leaning back, she hissed as Heather flipped up her bra, uncovering her pert, upturned breasts. “Damn, Heather. You always knew how to make me wet. And to think I thought you were in trouble.”

Heather grinned around Trish's nipple before letting it pop from her lips. “Oh, I’m not in any trouble, Trish. I just couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t want you. Bob’s a great fuck, but I missed sucking on these tits.” With a playful smirk, Heather buried her face in Trish’s cleavage, tasting her for the first time in far too many years. 

Trish cradled Heather to her breasts, cooing in pleasure as she nipped and sucked on her tender buds. Scrambling to strip, she became lost in this sudden reunion with her long ago lover. 

Gone, for the moment, was any thought of the mysterious envelope. 

Heather read her like a book, inwardly rejoicing that she had so effectively covered her trail. Still, her lust for Trish was burning like coal in her belly and her pussy was oozing juice as she slipped out of her skirt. Crazy as it was for her to fuck Trish right there in her office, she had no intention of letting her get away. With her head hugged to Trish’s breast, Heather lifted Trish's skirt and slid a hand inside her panties. Curling her fingers, she spread Trish’s labia, plunging her fingers knuckle-deep into the hot and steamy hole. 

Gasping, Trish clenched her teeth as Heather fucked her hard, driving her long digits as deeply into her as she could reach. The dual attack on her body was overwhelming. Hot sensations exploded from her nipples, coursing through her until the itch in her sex became unbearable. With Heather’s fingers stirring inside her, Trish rolled her hips as the need to feel them on her clit increased. 

Heather devoured her breasts. sucking her pale skin while stretching her open until Trish’s legs began to tremble. By then, Trish was simply holding on as her ability to remain standing became doubtful. Sensing she was ready, Heather spun Trish around and bent her over the desk.

Splayed out, face down, Trish spread her thighs, raising her ass in lurid invitation. When Heather's lips fluttered over her silky cheeks, Trish moaned in eager anticipation, "Oh, fuck, Heather. Please don't make me wait. Lick me, baby. I need your tongue inside me.” 

Heather dragged her fingertips over Trish’s tender skin, lightly scratching down the small of her back and over the rise of her ass. Trish shuddered, quivering with need as Heather teased her unmercifully. Licking a finger, she probed Trish's rose, tickling it with evil intent. "Do you like that, baby? You aren't into cock, so I bet you've never let a guy fuck you like this." 

At that thought, Trish's breath caught in her throat, Heather giggled and mischievously pushed inside until Trish clenched tightly around her finger. 

"That's just my middle finger, but you can barely take it, can you?"

Trish's cheek was pressed into the desk as she shook her head. "Damn, it does feel thick. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. Bob's turned you into a nasty little bitch, hasn't he?" 

Heather’s laugh was nothing but a whisper. “Yes, he has. Now, let me tell you a little secret: I love it when he fucks me in my ass. His cock is huge compared to my finger and he stretches me until I want to scream. I want you to think about that. I want you to imagine what he would feel like inside you now."

Trish whined, knowing what was going to happen even before Heather forced her finger through her ring. Her ass resisted, closing hard around its invader until Heather began turning it inside her. Worry flashed in her mind as the friction began to burn, but then she felt the warm moisture of Heather’s tongue swirling around her puckered hole. 

"Oh, my God, Heather. That feels so fucking good." 

Heather eagerly continued rimming her rose while sliding her finger in and out of Trish’s relaxing grip. "Maybe I should give you to Bob. I’m sure he would love to be your first. Do you think you could take him? I’d love to see you squirm while he took your little brown cherry."

Trish's blood was boiling and, fearing Heather might actually want her to do it, couldn’t find the will to respond. The softness of Heather’s tongue flicking over her butt was unlike anything she'd felt before, and it made the sting in her ass feel strangely satisfying. She needed to come but was so enthralled by Heather’s touch that she might let her have her ass for as long as she desired. 

With her asshole surrendering to its master, Heather plunged her finger without resistance. Trish was already overcome with lust and when Heather flicked her tongue lower, she squealed in delight. 

Heather couldn't wait any longer and she forced her finger deep while encircling Trish's clit with her lips. Sucking hard, she also increased the pressure on her lover’s ass, fucking her fast as Trish's orgasm began to form. It didn't take long. Moments later, Trish shuddered and writhed over the desk and Heather bore down, sliding her lips and tongue over Trish’s clit until she begged her to stop.

When Trish rose and turned to face Heather, a smoldering fire burned in her eyes. Kissing Heather, she playfully licked her dew from her lover’s lips. "That was amazing, baby. You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of being with you again."

Heather nodded, kissing her hand as Trish melted into her arms. "I missed you, too. Its been so long, but I’m glad you still want me."

"Oh, you have no idea, Heather. Now come here. I'm going to show you what you've been missing." Pushing Heather back into her desk chair, Trish knelt and eased Heather’s thighs apart. 

"Mmm, I've always loved your choice of panties. I'm going to leave them on so they are nice and wet. I want you to feel this for the rest of the day." 

Heather moaned softly as Trish kissed up her inner thighs. Running her fingers through Trish's short, dark hair brought back memories of how well Trish knew her body. Guiding her up, she opened herself wide so that Trish could taste her need. 

Trish nibbled on her skin, dragging her teeth up her inner thigh until Heather was squirming in her chair. The scent of her arousal was strong and fresh, and a patch of her pink panties was already dark with wetness. Flicking out her tongue, she licked Heather’s clit through the cloth, applying just enough pressure to make her sigh. When Heather fondled her own breasts, Trish grinned, knowing well how aroused she was becoming. Pushing the thin strip of satin to one side, Trish slipped her tongue through Heather's folds, reveling again in the taste of her juice. 

Heather had almost forgotten how skilled Trish was at pussy licking. Her head lolled back in the chair as she was engulfed in an incredible wave of pleasure. Her pussy was puffy and hot, and Trish's tongue slid inside, probing her hole until her belly was tight. Her nipples were bullet-hard, and she pinched them between her nails until the sting matched the heat in her cunt. Trish feasted on her, sucking her lips into her mouth until Heather was panting with desire. 

There were times when Trish had edged her for what seemed an eternity — but this wasn't going to be another of them. This reunion had been too unexpected, and they were both driven beyond patience’s delicate threshold. When Trish's fingers slid deep and her thumb pressed on her clit, Heather convulsed, rippling hard as her orgasm stormed through her. 

Trish rode the storm, licking and sucking until Heather closed her thighs, forcing her away. "Okay, Trish, please, you win,” she gasped. “Oh, my God, just stop. My poor kitty is going crazy.” 

Sitting back on her haunches, Trish kissed Heather’s knees. "Mmm, you still taste wonderful. I'm so happy this happened. You have no idea how much I missed making love to you." 

"I know, baby. I missed you too. This mustn’t be the last time." 

"It won’t be, but I need to get dressed and leave before someone calls the press. Could you imagine how this would look on TMZ?"

Trish laughed as she dressed, but Heather's thoughts were drawn back to the envelope. She had, so far, dodged the very scandal Trish was joking about, but now she wondered how long she could stay ahead of the story. 

Heather adjusted her clothing, hoping no one would detect the lingering smell of sex that she felt sure was hanging in the air. Kissing Trish one last time, she relaxed in her chair as her campaign manager departed, once again looking like a trim and proper professional. 

Wow, that was amazing. Heather leaned back, musing contentedly while her gaze idly wandered across the ceiling. That’s when she noticed it. Just above the door, tucked away in a corner, was a tiny black thread with an equally dark, pencil-thin rod attached at the end. 

Two weeks earlier, Heather would have had no idea what she was looking at, but after her tour of the department’s Organized Crime Unit, she knew the delicate, curling filament connecting to a five-millimeter lens could only be a police-quality surveillance camera. 

Heather stared blankly at it, hardly believing it was there. A cold chill flooded her blood as she realized what she’d done. Everything she and Trish shared had been recorded by her blackmailer. Her victory instantly turned to ashes and Heather sat back in her chair, shaken to her core.

“Well, fuck.”

Her blackmailer’s leverage had just become far more dangerous and Heather tapped fingers on the phone as she considered her options. She needed help and, ironically, Sean was the only one she could trust. 

He was going to be livid, she had no doubt of that. Still, his campaign was in as much jeopardy and tracing that bug was the only chance they had of finding out who the hell was behind all of this. Neither could go to the police, and that left Sean’s scumbag lawyer as their only hope of putting an end to it. 

oo0oo

Jesse Cortez was used to navigating unfamiliar spaces in the dark. Seeing rooms through a flashlight’s narrow beam had become as natural to him as a socket wrench was to a mechanic. The analogy would have appealed to him as fixing things was a task both their professions shared. 

This job was easy in comparison to most. He’d been given the key and assured his presence was legal. Still, Fast Eddie had made it clear that discretion was paramount. That requirement was the only reason he’d waited until three in the morning before breaking in. Besides, Eddie wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy client Jesse had ever known, and it was damn odd he’d been hired to trace a bug in an office belonging to his client’s opposition. 

Son of a bitch. I wonder if this job’s as straight up as Eddie claimed. It would be a ballsy move on Eddies' part, Jesse mused. After all, Eddie was the one who paid Jesse to convince Senator Hathaway to change his vote on the Grange act. Had it passed, Eddies boss, the very same Sean McCarthy would have lost millions in his real estate empire.

Hathaway had guts, Cortez had given him that. Besides, breaking the leg of a state Senator was never a good idea. Fortunately, the good Senator had a weakness for young men, and his conservative base would have barbecued him over hot coals had his affair with that sixteen- year-old, YouTube heartthrob become public knowledge. 

Observation always paid off, and that set up had been one of Jesse's best. The kid even let Jesse have a shot at his ass when it was all said and done. Chuckling at the memory, Jesse flicked on his flashlight and killed the room’s fluorescent illumination. 

Even if Eddie was trying to screw him, he had been deadly serious about the bug. It was obvious he hadn’t been behind placing it, and he’d been very specific about getting it traced. One thing was certain, the fact that Eddie had contracted Jesse didn’t bode well for the future of whoever was on the other end of the feed. 

In Heather’s office, finding the bug was easy enough. It was, after all, right where Eddie said it would be. Flicking the beam over the camera, Jesse noted the type and guessed it was connected to a wireless transmitter on the other end of the fiber-optic thread. He planned on taking it all, but first, he had to set a trap of his own.

With his laptop WiFi, he quickly found the signal, hacking into it with sophisticated software he’d picked up for this type of work. He had no real hope of locating the receiver for that signal, but that didn’t matter. To his surprise, it took much longer then he expected for his computer’s algorithms to break through the receiver’s firewall. 

When the connection was finally established, Jesse uploaded a virus into the camera feed. That little bundle of data merged into the image, concealing itself as a bit of random electronic noise as it traveled through whatever maze of misdirection the blackmailer was relying on to conceal his identity. Only once it reached a computer, and bypassed its antivirus protection, would it unzip and send a single email to him from the blackmailer’s system.

Grinning with satisfaction, Jesse disconnected the camera and dropped it into his case. This would go to Eddie, who promised to use the department’s CSI team to check for latent prints and DNA. 

It was possible, Jesse thought, that all of this would come to nothing. But his extensive experience with the criminal mind had taught him that, no matter how clever the criminal might be, they were never as bright as they thought. No, he was certain he’d have an address within the next twenty-four hours, and then he’d put an end to this foolishness. 

By the time he got back to his car, Jesse was already mentally counting the hefty pay he was due from Eddie. This kind of work would ruin everyone involved, and for his silence, Eddie’s boss was going to dig deep. Jesse smiled as he slipped into the driver’s seat, considering whether to head off to Bermuda or Antigua. 

There was a motion to his left, and just as he turned, the silenced barrel of a gun appeared in front of his eyes. He barely had time to glance up at the person holding it before it went off, proving forever his belief that a criminal’s overconfidence would always be their undoing. 

The next morning, Jesse Cortez was found shot dead in his car behind the Eight Ball Saloon next to the pier. No camera or transmitter was recovered, and the police were willing to write it off as just another criminal meeting his end in the city’s dangerous harbor district.

 

Authors Notes: 

I wish to extend my thanks to JWren for his fine editing on this work. He donates his time and knowledge as an act of passion for the art, and I am in his debt for his expertise. He has taught me a great deal about the craft of writing.  

Dirty Tricks is a multi-part, multi authored, character whodunnit journey created by AndreaDetroit and shared by her to some of the finest writers on Lush. We hope you enjoy the series. Thank you for reading and please, take a moment to provide us with feedback. 

Discussion has begun with the authors of the next few chapters. We are welcoming authors who wish to join us on this journey. If you are a writer and would like to contribute, please contact AndreaDetroit or Ping for more details. The next Chapter of Dirty Tricks will be posted in the next few weeks. 

 

So far, in this series. 

 

Dirty Tricks, Chapter 1 written by AndreaDetroit

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks.aspx

 

Dirty Tricks, chapter 2 written by Ping 

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-1.aspx

 

Dirty Tricks, chapter 3 written by Writingvixen

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-3.aspx

 

Dirty Tricks, chapter 4 written by WannabeWordsmith 

https://www.lushstories.com/stories/hardcore/dirty-tricks-chapter-4.aspx

 

 

 

 

 

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