Becca had a long, hot shower when she got home from Dimitri’s apartment. She felt it necessary to clean her body of that experience before she could set her mind to what his notebook meant. She felt conflicted about it, admitting that there were moments that she enjoyed despite herself. Perhaps it was because Dimitri was so powerful and dangerous. But she knew that the price of being involved with such a man in reality was antithetical to all of her values and integrity.

She had a pretty good idea of the meaning of about half of the notations written in Cyrillic beside the names listed in English, and could surmise from this that the balance would be similar: the weaknesses and kinks of the clientele of Dimitri’s escort agency: men and women the top tiers of government and finance, CEOs, members of the medical and legal professions, law enforcement, national security, and yes, even journalism.. The notations seemed to list their fiefdoms, agencies, and areas of power, thereby leading to how they could be used.

This had begun to expose the human trafficking of women (and some men) into what amounted to indentured servitude and Becca realized that it was the contents of Dimitri’s computer system and cloud storage that would reveal the mechanics of how these women and men were lured, transported and kept in several U.S. cities that were centers of money and power and therefore the perfect locations for such a business. One could always count on powerful people feeding their appetites, whatever they were. This and the financial records would reveal more pertinent information than the notebook held however explosive it seemed. Becca was determined to set these people free and take down the agency from top to bottom.

It was late and she was tired. She sent Natasha, the escort who had escaped and was her contact, and Greg, her editor at the paper, text messages to set up a meeting at an out of the way diner to share what she had uncovered giving them an hour to get there. She drank a large mug of coffee and dressed in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, topped off with a baseball cap trying to attract the least attention possible. That red hair was both a blessing and a curse.

Greg arrived at the diner before Natasha and debriefed Becca about what happened between her and Dimitri. He was shocked when she showed him the pictures of the notebook on her phone.

“I can’t read or speak Russian, but this list of names is enough to tell me that this is explosive, and very dangerous at that. I guess Natasha can help us translate this and fill in some of the blanks but we still have to get the architecture of the business out in the open. How do they recruit? How do they enter and stay in the country? How much money is being made and by whom? Who is complicit in this carrying on?  Of course all of those listed in the notebook are vulnerable to blackmail, so how have they avoided being compromised? What have they given up to stay under the radar? Importantly, can we document the connections of Dimitri to the Russian power structure? I have so many more questions that have to be answered before we can publish.”

Becca agreed. “Everything you said is true. I don’t want to lose sight of those being held for what some may think is the bigger story about the clients of the agency. That was the starting point for this story and it remains important. Those people have value too and are not just pawns in whatever games the Russians are playing.”  

Natasha arrived and observed that Greg and Becca were very excited. Then Becca handed her her phone. “Have a look at this, Natasha.”

Natasha’s eyes opened wider as she read the pages’ images. “I know that you have a little Russian, Becca, but I will translate all of this into English. It is amazing that you managed to do this. I think I don’t want to know how that happened. One important thing I can tell you now is that there is a list here of four passwords that Dimitri cycles through each month. They are complicated, made up of letters, numbers and symbols, so it would be impossible for almost anyone to remember them and not mix them up. These passwords get you into all of the background information of the agency. Not just customers and financial information, but dozens of videos.

“They are probably recording the clients with their escorts in the most compromising circumstances as insurance, maybe for blackmail, maybe to avoid any prosecution even if they become known to police and other authorities not involved in this. It looks to me like this can only be accessed from the computer in Dimitri’s office. Vlad and others who are underlings only know about pieces of the business that touch them. Just like the KGB, on a need to know basis. Remember that Dimitri, despite his effort to be elegant and civilized on the surface has disappeared people as easily as he changes his suit.”

Greg took this all in. “I’m not happy with you nosing around Dimitri’s office, Becca. But if that is the only way we can get data on his computer, so be it. I do think that we should have a talk with our IT guy to get some help in doing this as quickly as you can manage and also without you leaving any virtual fingerprints. We don’t want him to realize what has happened until it is too late and the FBI is at his door. Leave it with me and I will have him school you before you attempt this.”

They left the diner and went off in different different directions. Becca went home. It was late. She had already showered once, but that was to cleanse herself. Now she needed another one to soothe her aching body and tired mind. Maybe lavender soap would help. The idea of once again breaching Dimitri’s security was both daunting and frightening. But it was clearly necessary. She would have to absorb all of the instructions from the IT guy as to the quickest way to get this done and pray that her luck did not run out.

Becca heard music signaling that Matthew was home. She shouted hello from the shower and asked that he bring her silk robe from the closet as she got out of the shower. He responded to her hello and said, “Just a sec, babe.”

Matthew went to their walk-in closet and marveling as he always did that women needed so many clothes, especially the numerous shoes. It was obvious that this space was not equally shared despite the fact that Matthew dressed well too. As he looked for the robe he noticed the thigh-high black leather boots and bustier on the floor. He had never seen them before and it was not part of Becca’s usual lingerie or footwear, chic as she was. It was more than strange and perhaps his instincts were on alert because of the undercover work Becca was doing, but he had to ask. “What the hell are these? I don’t remember them.”

Matthew handed Becca her robe and waited for an answer. Becca was taken by surprise. She had borrowed the femdom gear from the agency thinking it would be a turn on for Matthew, but he did not sound happy. “You know what I’ve been doing to get my story and how important that story is. There are outfits to match any and every fantasy at the townhouse as well as all kinds of lingerie, from demure to ultra provocative. All very expensive, imported from France and Italy.I borrowed the boots and bustier for us to have some fun. I did leave the crop there. That would have been too much.”

Matthew’s ire was rising as the realization of what she was doing registered with him. “It was troubling when it was just theory, but the reality of you in that outfit with another man is infuriating to me. Story or no story. I don’t like it. What does it say about our relationship? How is this any different from cheating? As a matter of fact, cheating would be better. At least it would imply that you had a connection with the man and no money would be involved. I’m afraid to ask how much you charged for this. I really don’t want to know. This is the end justifying the means taken to the nth degree. I can’t say anything more than it is a betrayal of us and a very serious one at that. I don’t know how I could have accepted it so passively when you talked about it.”

Becca was not expecting this at all. She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts knowing whatever she said would have an impact on their future together or at least have to convince Matthew that they had one. “I thought you understood. I have always been able to compartmentalize sex. I wasn’t ever promiscuous, but I have had relationships that were fleeting and certainly others that were less meaningful than ours is. These men are just part of the story, a key part, and this is the only way I can document what is going on with the Russian traffickers and what they do with the information they get this way. I have to be an escort. Please, try to understand.”

Matthew opened his mouth to respond when one of Becca’s burner phones rang. She turned to answer it. It was Anna telling her that she had a new client for her. Groaning in dismay, Becca agreed and said she would be there within the hour. “Matthew, I know this is the worst timing possible, but I have to go right now. I promise that we’ll talk when I get back home.”

Matthew stood there in a stunned silence as Becca quickly dressed. He was fuming mad and hurt to the core of his being. He watched as she ran out the door without either of them saying another word. He left a few minutes later to take a long walk and think, maybe stop by a local bar for a drink and watch some game or other. He did not want to be alone brooding until Becca returned.

oo0oo

Walking in the night air under the city lights often brought calm to Matthew. It was a peaceful, solitary act that let him sift the confusion from his mind, but tonight his thoughts refused to be put in their usual disciplined order . What the hell was she thinking, anyway? Yes, her goal was sound, but to actually sleep with random men to achieve it? That was excruciatingly difficult for him to accept.

Knowing this was like a kick in his gut. They were so good for each other. He loved her, he knew that without a doubt, and those feelings made accepting the idea of her having sex with someone else impossible for him to comprehend, never mind accept.

He wandered the sidewalks near the apartment with no conscious direction. The sounds of traffic and the background bedlam ever present in an inner city barely registered on him as struggled to understand. Who were these people? How had Becca even become involved?  He should have been able to process it all, but the only thing he could visualize was the image of her being touched by another. That it was so important to her that she would leave him in the middle of this argument shook him to his core.

Dream Girls? They were becoming a nightmare for them and what really pissed him off was that Becca did not even understand why he might be upset. How would she react if he was cheating on her? At any other time he would have scoffed at the idea of revenge sex, but maybe this might at least shake her preternatural calm.

oo0oo

The drive to this appointment was unusually long. Unlike her other liaisons for the agency, this one was neither at an agency townhouse nor at one of the local hotels. The address given was a secluded manor house in the Virginia countryside. To Becca that said old money and her instincts were primed at the potential evidence she might gain from her client.

Anna had in fact been unusually coy about this one, telling Becca only to be ready for something different. Considering everything she had seen since infiltrating Dream Girls, her mind was buzzing with possibilities. Forty minutes after leaving Washington, she arrived on the gravel drive in front of a grand, Southern Colonial style mansion.

Becca had no idea who lived here, but public records would reveal that in time. A bigger problem was that the location was not controlled. The agency would have no cameras here and no recording equipment. This meant her burden of proof would be much more problematic.

The estate was ablaze with light and even though the whole situation felt surreal, she felt no apprehension as she climbed to the white painted steps leading upward to the heavy wooden doors. The night was cool but free of winter’s chill and Becca let her coat cling loosely around her shoulders. She was reaching for the antique knocker when she heard the sound of the latch being turned and the door swung silently open.

Rebecca pulled back her hand as a well-dressed, elderly black man appeared in the entry.

“Rebecca, I presume? Forgive my informality but your agency gave me no last name.”

His voice was strong and articulate. Becca relaxed, feeling she might enjoy her evening with this man. “That’s me.” she returned, letting him take her hand in his, “I’m afraid the agency was very cryptic about tonight, mister?”

“Carter. Nathaniel Carter. And while this is my home, regretfully, I am not the one to enjoy your company this evening. In fact, I was just leaving for the night. You’ll find the person you seek in the guest suite at the top of the stairs.”

Becca was mildly bewildered by the situation but shook his hand again before he disappeared down the steps. Inside, the house was exquisitely decorated with a taste for art and culture. The place was worth millions, Becca had no doubt of that. She was eager to learn who it was that might require such a convoluted rendezvous. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, a multitude of possibilities had played through her mind, but none of them prepared her for who Mr. Carter’s guest turned out to be.

The double doors to the guest suite were ajar and Becca paused to knock.  

“Please, come in,” a feminine voice warmly answered.

Becca was both surprised and pleased by this turn of events.She had very few female lovers in her past and immediately felt the prospects for the evening were quickly improving.

“Hello. I’m Rebecca. Mr. Carter told me I’d find you here.”

“Yes, Nathaniel has graciously offered me the use of his home the the night. He won't be back until tomorrow, so we won't be disturbed.”

The few candles in the room and a low fire burning in the hearth provided only enough light for Becca to make out the slim figure of woman sitting at a desk under a window on the far side of the room. By the deeper timbre of her voice, Becca guessed she was in her forties. Her silhouette, partially obscured by the flowing lace of her negligee, was that of a woman blessed with the curves that could drive a man wild with desire. Becca had to admit, she was feeling rather wild herself.

Becca had crossed the room and was standing in front of the four-poster bed when her client rose from her chair. Turning toward Becca, the light from the fire to cast its glow over her face and Becca's’ heart skipped a beat when she realized who it was she was there to entertain.  

As a journalist writing a political column in Washington, Becca was familiar with the Capitol’s important power brokers and the woman standing before here was one whose reputation she was well acquainted with. Startled and surprised, even her normally unshakable calm was briefly rattled. The woman, now just a few feet away, instantly made note of this and a wan smile graced her lips.

“I see you recognize me.”

This was a critical moment and Becca knew one wrong word would cause the Senator to become suspicious. The last thing she could afford was to sound like a reporter, so she simply sat on the bed, holding her handbag on her lap. “I do, Senator Richards, but that doesn't matter. You aren’t the first member of Congress I’ve met through the agency. As you know, we are very discreet about such things.”

The Senator visibly relaxed and sat next to Becca, taking her hand in hers. “Yes, I know. Your agency has been very careful in protecting my little secret, and Nathaniel has been very understanding as well.”

“Mr. Carter? I assume he knows about your plans tonight?”

“Of course. These grounds are electronically monitored to ensure no one outside is watching. Unfortunately, being an elected official in even a marginally red state like Texas means that I must be quiet about my sexual preference. The state is basically conservative even if the current GOP Senator got a run for his money in the recent election.It's a sacrifice I have to make if I intend to keep my seat.”

Becca’s initial reaction was to argue that her dishonesty about herself was only damaging the larger LGBTQ struggle. As long as powerful Democrats like Emily Richardson refused to make a stand, men like her Republican counterpart could prevent others from achieving the equality they so desperately deserved.

Richardson was a Democrat with generally conservative voting history. Becca felt it likely that she had a long history of compromising her votes based on her desire to be re-elected rather than her duty to serve the greater good. If so, Becca would enjoy exposing her in the hopes her seat might then be filled by a more worthy candidate.  

With her cover at risk, Becca was forced to suppress her personal feelings and nodded with understanding to Emily. “It’s hard to hide who you are. I can understand what it must be like to have all that influence but still not be able to be honest about yourself. You have no need to pretend with me. I’m here to ease that burden, if only for tonight.”

Emily laughed, softly and with relief. “Easing my burden. There is a novel way to put it. But that would be wonderful. Sometimes I wonder why I ever ran for office.” She seemed defeated, as if the strain had suddenly become too much. Leaning toward Becca, she slipped into her arms.

There was a heaviness within Emily, Becca could feel that. The stress of her position, stress that could be unbearable on a good day, must have been crushing if she felt the need to hire a lover to fulfill her needs. Becca kissed her, drawing her out from her shell and letting her know it was okay to feel the love of another woman. Emily accepted her kiss, returning it with a rising passion until her breast was heaving in excitement.

She was a strong woman, of that Becca had no doubt. But as she well knew, even the strongest people needed to let go at times. In some cases it manifested in an extreme way, as it had for Congressman Gordon and his need to be humiliated. For Emily, it was much less complicated. She needed only the affection of another woman’s touch.

It was a profound moment. Becca's heart softened as she realized Emily was in the same pain suffered by so many in the LGBTQ community. She was forced by her own fear to deny who she was, and so only able to find a fleeting moment of happiness in the arms of a paid escort. It was tragic.

Becca knew that her voting record on LGBTQ rights was solid, even if she never made a point of supporting them. She only knew of this because Emily’s Republican challenger in the last election attempted to paint her as more liberal than her image allowed.

Cradling Emily to her breasts, she stroked her back, lightly running her fingers along her spine until she sighed. Nuzzling her neck, she kissed her with a light and fluttering touch until she offered her full and moist lips for a deeper, soulful kiss.

“Stay right here.” Becca stood, facing Emily from just out of arm's reach. Slowly, teasingly, she let her red hair fall over her shoulders. She watched Emily closely, sensing her growing arousal as she slipped of her dress. The gossamer black lace of her undergarments clung to her pale skin, making it glow in the firelight.

Emily was glowing as well, and the subtle quake in her thighs was all the evidence Becca needed that her sex was becoming moist with heat. For too long had Emily denied herself, and Becca resolved to make this night everything she desired. When she stepped back, hand outstretched, Emily rose form the bed and followed without hesitation.

Making love to a woman was strikingly different than it was with a man. There was no abrupt passion being forced on either of them. It might come in time when their arousal was at its peak, but now, it was a slow dance, an unquenchable yearning that brought them together. Their desire was expressed not in an urgent need, but in a symphony of caresses, of kisses and pure joy of exploration.

Soon, Becca's bra and panties were crumpled on the floor, laying next to Emily’s discarded negligee. Heat was growing between them and when Becca felt Emily's fingers slipping inside her, she gasped, letting her head loll back as the sensation of being penetrated raced through her body. Holding Emily to her, she succumbed to it, feeling her juices dripping down her inner thigh as Emily reached deeper inside.

“Lay back,” she heard her say, and Becca relaxed into the sheets, drawing Emily into the cradle of her thighs. Hot breath bathed her sex, making Becca squirm while Emily blew her kisses over her sex. She was being teased and driven mad as her lover for this one night sated her own desire by bringing Becca to the brink of ecstasy.

The soft, insistent cadence of Emily’s tongue flicking along her slit was deliciously satisfying and when her fingers parted her and slipped inside again, Becca arched, eager to receive her touch. Soon, Emily was drawing her kisses ever closer to her clit, sending waves of pleasure flowing through her.

“Yes, that feels so good, Emily, make me come. Please let me come.”

Her plea was unnecessary.. Emily knew Becca was there, and she sucked on her clit, sawing her tongue over it until Becca’s hips were rolling under her. Orgasm pulsed through her, washing over her like a wave until it threatened to carry her away.

Moments passed has Becca calmed. Emily stayed with her, keeping her palm pressed gently against her mound until the pulsing within her became a gentle purr. Drawing Emily up until they could snuggle together, Becca let them moment pause, as if time itself no longer mattered.

“That was wonderful. It's been too long since I was with a woman. I’d almost forgotten how good it can be.”

“I know how you feel. I don't get this chance often, but with the gun bill coming up, I needed this tonight.”

Becca idly fondled her breast, rubbing her finger over her nipple as they spoke. She was surprised the Senator would talk about her position. Becca welcomed that, but knew she had to proceed with caution.

“A gun bill? I read something about that the other day. With all those shootings we’ve seen, I can’t imagine why that would make you feel nervous, but maybe it's more complex than I understand.” Becca did understand, but allowing others to underestimate her had always worked to her advantage.

“No. it really isn't,” Emily explained. “We want to make high capacity magazines illegal. There isn't much more to it than that.”

“Really? That sounds simple enough.. So, as I assume you support this law, why is it bothering you?”

Emily rolled onto her back. Clearly, this was where her conflict lay and she took a moment before continuing. “Really, its shouldn't be. I am convinced this is good policy, but I am afraid my constituents might not agree. The last time the Democratic party took up gun control in a meaningful way, many of us lost our seats in the next election.”

Becca rolled on her side, caressing Emily with a reassuring touch. “I guess I can relate to that. You feel like you are selling yourself and what you believe for the chance to keep your seat.” .

Emily's eyebrows shot up, and her gaze became sharp. “I can do a lot of good in the Senate, but to do so I have to be there. It's easy to make judgements from outside the chamber.”

The Senator’s tone had changed but Becca merely rested her head on her breast. “I don't judge you, Emily. How can I? I sell myself every day for a much smaller return.. I was only wondering if it's worth the cost?” Becca kissed her nipple, sucking it into her mouth before continuing on. “Only you can know if it is, but it seems we have that much in common.”

Becca’s words faded away as she drew a line of kisses down Emily’s body.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Becca was in the newsroom working on her story the next day when someone turned up the sound on the television. CNN was airing the vote on banning high capacity magazines from the Senate. Emily Richardson had the podium. She said, “I have struggled making my decision about the vote considering the needs and views of my constituents. I understand the heritage of hunting and the right to bear arms. I also understand that high capacity magazines have only one use: to kill as many people as possible in the least time possible.

“I have thought about the many mass shootings in the US, that of young children and their teachers in Sandy Hook, that of young people and others at Parkland and Virginia Tech, and that of all sorts of people in Las Vegas, and of worshipers at a synagogue in Pittsburgh and a church in Charleston. These were just a few among many mass shootings in the US. I have struggled with this, but there is only one answer, to ban high capacity magazines as a step toward making mass shootings a thing of the past. I understand that not everyone at home will agree with this, but I have to vote my conscience and ideals and ethics.I vote aye,” she said.

A few minutes later Richardson was on CNN being interviewed about her vote. She said that she had to do what she thought was right and vote her conscience. She wanted to loosen the grip of the NRA on politicians and decide without worrying about her own re-election. She felt strangely light after all of the angst making the decision and hoped that her constituents would respect her decision as a principled one.

This had led her to think about another issue in her life. It had always been noticed that she had no spouse and little was written about her personal life. There was a reason she had kept that sheltered from view. Her conflict over this vote had caused her to think about her principles in their entirety. Being true to them and authentic was exceedingly important and that had come to her in an epiphany the night before. With that in mind, she said that she was a lesbian. It was 2019. Texas and the country had evolved on the issue of same sex preference. This changed nothing about the rest of who she was and what she thought and did. She hoped that her constituents would accept and respect her as they always had. She was the same person that they had voted into the Senate twice.

Becca was flabbergasted. What a brave thing to do she thought. She wondered if their discussion had been part of that epiphany. This brought Becca to her own dilemma. She did not want anything about that night to come out and undermine the Senator with salacious gossip. It was not like with other politicians who pontificate about their values and hypocritically live  another way. Richardson had quietly supported LGBTQ communities. She had gathered plenty of information on Dream Girls and had plans to get more. Becca decided that her journalistic principles could bend this time to not publish anything about the Senator and her use of escorts. She found the file on her computer, took a deep breath and clicked delete.

Authors Note:

I wish to thank Principessa for her amazing skills and  patience. Without her, I could never have completed this work. It is truly a collaborative effort in every way.