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The Body Politic

A career in politics.

I was leaning against a wall. Henry Wayne’s election party was in full swing and I couldn’t give a damn. I didn’t like the man personally and would never have voted for him or his shitty party.


So, why was I there? Well, I am ambitious. I intend to get a lot further in the world of politics, not as a politician but as an adviser. It’s a slippery pole and the politico you work for or the party they claim to be a part of is irrelevant. All that matters is that each one you work for is senior to the last.


I was second in line as his adviser and, to be perfectly honest, I’d done most of the work. I’d written speeches, managed his responses to events during the campaign, held the silly sod’s hand (not, I assure you, literally) when things looked bad and put some backbone into him when he needed it.


There he was, tall, patrician and incredibly stupid, wandering around shaking hands as if he’d done it all by himself. That’s what they are mostly like; a bunch of shits. Why then, you may wonder, do I do it? It isn’t about power. It’s about being there watching things happen. Great events are bloody exciting. I always imagined that the only orgasms Margaret Thatcher ever had were derived from them. I worked, in my early days, for a now retired woman MP who actually told me she’d soaked her knickers during one spectacular moment in her career.


I don’t care if it makes me orgasm or not but I do want that excitement, that access to powerful, historic moments. Henry Wayne could get lost now. I was on the lookout for the next one up the ladder and, happily, had found it.


Right, rant over. There I was holding an untouched glass of bubbles and Barbara Thomas, known to the team and behind her back as Lenny, came up to me. She was called Lenny because she had a ferocious temper - Lenny the Lioness. She was gently butch. Black jeans, a white shirt and a pair of black ankle boots that looked like those your granny might have worn, close-cropped red hair, a ring through her septum and another in her lower lip. She’s disturbingly pretty, tall too. I was wearing three-inch heels and she was at least three inches taller. Always works for me.


“You’re not mixing, Sam.”


“You know me, Babs. This is the bit where we stand back and let him pretend he’s the man.”


“You’re not drinking either.”


“You keeping me under surveillance?”


She smiled. “Can’t take my bloody eyes off you, to be frank. That dress looks like it might fall open and I don’t want to miss it when it does.”


The dress was, it was true, held together at my hip by a leather strap and buckle. Otherwise, it wrapped across my chest and legs and I loved it. It was sexy (at least it had looked it on the mannequin in the store) and I felt good in it. It was a deep blue with a few highlights of red and brown and white. It revealed enough of me to suggest, wrongly, that I had a good set of tits. They’re okay but by no means substantial.


Babs and I had been working together for the entire campaign. She ran the canvassers, printing and most of the admin. She was brilliant at it and I’d made a mental note to ask her to help me when I got my next job.


“So, the arsehole’s back in the House and we’re back on the dole.”


“I don’t think so, Babs. I have a little something you might enjoy.”


She raised an eyebrow. “You offering me a fuck?”


“Behave. I’ve been asked to join Sylvia Tenant’s advisory team.”


Sylvia Tennant was the new Shadow Minister for the Environment.


“Christ, that’s a big step up. Well done you.”


“Not the top job but not too bad either. Thing is, I suggested you might be considered for their admin team leader. The current one is a waste of space. He was ‘borrowed’ from the previous Minister’s team and doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. According to the woman who head-hunted me, Tenant wants rid and they are looking for new one. So, I mentioned you.”


“Thanks, babe. That’s very, very decent of you.”


“You’re the best, Babs.”


She made a poor attempt at a girly smile then took my drink and took it to the bar, returning with a new one. She clinked glasses with me and we both drank.


“One other thing.” She nodded. “That fuck isn’t out of the question.”


“I might have changed my mind.”


“Like hell you have. Nobody can resist this dress.”


We never had in fact; fucked that is. We both knew the other was gay and we’d flirted and bantered during moments of relaxation but a political campaign is no time to develop a relationship no matter how often it might happen that people try. It’s too intense, too demanding and too bloody tiring.


She moved closer, “Tell me about Tennant.”


“She’s bright, could well end up as Leader in a while, Deputy almost certainly. She’s a lawyer but I forgive her that. She’s the same age as me and a double first from Oxford to boot. She’s sharp, demanding and doesn’t like fools.”

“She sounds a lot like me but cleverer.”


“You’re as good at your job as she is at hers and she’ll recognise it.”


“So, this isn’t a campaign job?”


“Nope, her personal staff. We’ll be operating out of her constituency office although we’ll spend a lot of time in London as well.”


She took my hand in hers, just holding the tips of my right-hand fingers, “Mixing work and pleasure isn’t always a good idea, Sam.”


“Neither of us will be working for the other, Babs. It’s silos. Me in mine, you in yours.”


“Cool. When might I hear?”


“Well, as a matter of fact, you just have. They told me to ask you and, if you agree, the job’s yours.”


“Why didn’t you tell me before?”


“Because if Henry effing Wayne had lost it wasn’t going to happen. I just spoke to the head-hunter. She said it’s all confirmed.”


Barbara lifted my hand to her mouth and gently bit the ball of my thumb, “Count me in.”


I finished my wine and fetched two more. We wandered out into the huge garden that surrounded Wayne Manor as, you may have guessed, we called his home. It was in fact just a large house but, well, he was like that. Twat.


Babs slipped her arm across my shoulders and I put mine around her waist and we walked a little way until we couldn’t be seen from the house. That was the first time she ever kissed me and the first time I’d ever kissed a woman with a ring in her lip. Great on both counts.


It started with a false start. She came close, tilted her head down to bring her lips close to mine but not touching, then she touched, barely and broke away, taking in my eyes. Then she kissed me. It was soft at first but Bab’s is nothing if not passionate and so it became. There was a lot of tongue and her hands weren’t exactly motionless either but confined their interest to my back and bum. She wasn’t going to invade my dress yet. Bugger.


She put that right though. We decided to leave the party and have one of our own at my place, mainly because it was nearer than hers. I closed the door and she pulled me to her and it all got a bit urgent. She slipped her hand into the top of my dress and cupped a braless tit as I sucked her tongue. I ran my hands down her back and pulled her to me, my legs either side of her. She ground herself against me and then found the buckle and undid it. My dress opened and she gave a little growl when she saw that I was in stockings but no knickers since I’d removed them before we left Wayne Manor.


“Dirty cow.”


“You can bloody talk.”


She stooped to kiss each breast and suck each nipple before she dropped to her knees and with me pressed against the wall she began to kiss and tongue me. Her hands were busy, stroking my legs and arse and then she looked up at me as, agonisingly slowly, she slid a finger into me. She curled it as she resumed licking and kissing me and it was just as well I had the wall behind me or I’d have fallen. I bent my knees to push my hips forward and let her get a better contact.


Her finger moved deeper and stroked my g and I knew it wasn’t going to be long before I’d cum. My fingers curled in her close-cropped hair. I felt a finger at my rear and then she stopped, turning me around so I faced the wall. My dress fell and she pushed it aside and pulled my hips back. Then, with her hands on my buttocks, she spread them and began to lick my bum.


I felt her finger slither back into me and she licked all the sensitive skin between cunt and arse as her finger worked magic. After a while, knowing I was on the edge because I was moaning like hell, she worked a second finger into my puss then another into my bum and with her tongue doing a dance I came. I came like a banshee, howling as the pleasure rode through me.


She stood and held me, turning me again and holding my almost naked form to her.


It is still not entirely clear to me how I got to be on my bed. She was lying, naked now, legs wide, knees bent and I was between them doing a good repeat of what she’d done for me. My fingers worked fast, my tongue lapped and licked and my lips squeezed her clit until she arched underneath me, let fly a loud sort of whoosh and subsided a few seconds later.


“Fuck. Why did we wait for that, Sam?”


Babs and I became occasional lovers. She wasn’t the sort to be exclusive and I could live with that. Work was high pressure and over the ensuing months, we spent a fair bit of time apart as I was increasingly needed in London. I had found a lesbian bar up there which, when the need took me, I would visit and sometimes pull. The truth was though that I was mostly too busy. When I was back home or she came to London we always found time for one another.


My boss was a man called Tony Riley. He was good and he dealt with all the environment stuff which he knew far better than I. I dealt with the political bits and managed Tennant's responses to the press and so on.


One day I was called to Sylvia’s house in Islington for a meeting. It was an elegant, Georgian building, with a large fan light over the imposing double front door. I rang the bell and Tony answered, telling me to come in. The meeting was just the three of us.


“It looks like there will be a leadership election in the next few months.” Sylvia didn’t waste time with pleasantries and this bombshell hit me right between the eyes.


“Howard Gifford,” this was the Leader of the Opposition, “has said he intends to step down and give a new Leader a chance to bed in before the next general election in two years time. I’ve asked you and Tony to discuss with me what my strategy would be.”


For the next few hours we tossed it back and forth and while she was out of the room taking some calls, Tony and I came to an agreement about what our advice was to be and our strategy for getting her to take it.


She returned and sat down.


Tony spoke, “It’s an opportunity for you. It’s early in your career but you have already risen quickly so another notch, maybe the deputy isn’t out of the question.”


She looked at me, “Do you agree?”


“Not entirely.”



“I think you should go for the top job. You’ve proved yourself to be a great Shadow and you’ve also been one of the few to take on the Prime Minister or your direct opponent on and win. I think you’d get a huge amount of support and even if you didn’t win, whoever did would have to offer you a big job, say Chancellor or Home Secretary when they win the next election.”


“I’ll consider your advice, thank you. Say nothing to anyone, naturally.”


Tony and I left in the small hours and managed to find cabs back to our own flats.


It was a few days later that I went to another meeting with the two of them. This was over dinner at a small restaurant near the House.


“I have decided,” she said, “that I will go for the Leadership if, and only if, there appears to be sufficient support for me in the party. I am putting you, Sam, in charge of the campaign. If you can get that halfwit Wayne elected you can probably achieve anything. Tony will be full time looking after the Environment brief for me so he and I have agreed this is the best course."


She continued, "If you find you’re not up to it, tell me and tell me in plenty of time. I do not want to start this then fail. So draw up your plans and get a team around you. I hear good things about your pierced friend, Barbara. If you need her, bring her up. I don’t care who you use but make sure they are good. I’m putting a lot of faith in you.”


Sylvia was not in the mould of Margaret Thatcher. No iron hair, no matronly clothes, she was a sharp dresser with a penchant for crisp dresses and two to three-inch heels. She had great legs and a fine body. Her hair was brown and lustrous and almost to her mid-back. Class. It was almost a pity, I thought, that she was also straight but she was.


Leadership campaigns are bloody affairs. Old scores to be settled, favours to cash in, threats, lies, the whole gamut of human infidelity. I’d discussed this with Tenant and said I wanted to try to run a clean campaign. If there was to be skullduggery let her opponents start it. We’d respond in kind and with far more vitriol than they could imagine if they started it but we’d not initiate any unpleasantness. She agreed.


I started the round of schmoozing, cajoling, persuading and basically anything I had to, short of the sort of nastiness we knew might have to occur. I was in the Ladies’ Bar in the House one evening, sitting in a comfortable chair and checking mail and messages. I was in the normal attire, suit, heels etc when Libby Manning stopped beside my chair.


She was known by the more juvenile in the house as Lezzy-Almost-Manning, LAM for short. As far as I was concerned she was a good looking woman, decidedly androgynous and as clever as you like. She was wearing a man’s suit and looked fucking gorgeous. She was also one of the few openly gay women in the business. She was living with a noted human rights lawyer called Delphine Saunders.


“How’s it going, Sam?”


I looked up at her and smiled, “When I wake up I’ll let you know. I don’t seem to have slept in my bed for weeks. I’m just sleep walking now.”


She sat down in a chair facing me. “Must be knackering. You know I’m for your girl?”


“No, actually, I didn’t.”


“So why haven’t you been haranguing me?”


I put my phone down onto my knee and discussed internally whether or not to tell her the truth. I decided I would.


“Truth is, Libby, you’re a bit of a one off.”


She cocked an eyebrow.


“You’re intelligent, utterly transparent, decent and honest.” I stopped her embryonic protest.


“It wouldn’t matter at all what anyone said to you, you’d go your own way and vote for the person you thought best, even if you knew he or she had no hope.”


“Should I take that as a compliment?” She asked.


“No, fucking adoration. If everyone was like you I’d be out of a job. As it is, I have to work with all the dimwits, self-seekers, creeps, crawlers and misfits. Why would I waste my time trying to persuade the unpersuadable?”


“Why don’t you come back to mine and have a drink with me and Delphine? Give yourself an hour’s relaxation?”


And so it was that I found myself in a large flat in Greenwich with a member of parliament and a human rights lawyer. Delphine was much taller than her partner, lithe, small breasted and carved from ebony. Her hair was long and she was wearing a white shift with long sleeves and silver edging, very plain but somehow it highlighted her colour and her beauty. Libby led me into the sitting room and Delphine brought us both a glass of brandy.


“You two have things to discuss?”


“No,” said Libby. “Sam here needed a break and I thought we’d enjoy her company.”


Delphine smiled, “In that case, I’ll get myself a drink and join you.”


She did. I sat beside Libby, facing her partner. We talked for a while and then Delphine said she would leave us.


As she was in the doorway Libby said, “We’ll be up in a while.”


I must have looked a little shocked because Libby touched my knee, “You do want that, don’t you?”


She kissed me then, hard on the lips and her hand moved from my knee up to my breast which she kneaded softly as her tongue invaded my mouth. I heard Delphine tell her not to be long. Thinking straight was impossible. The warmth, the heat of her kiss and the feel of her hand on my breast and the consciousness that I might end up in bed with both these women set my mind whirling.


I became, I think, a bit abandoned. I felt her hand sliding up my leg to my knickers and heard her mutter how wet I was. She guided my own hand to her breasts, then to her crotch and then she broke the kiss.


“Shall we go upstairs?”


I must have assented because she led me by the hand and up the stairs to their bedroom. Delphine was sitting up, her naked torso unselfconsciously exposed above crisp white sheets. She put down the book she had been reading.


I stood, mesmerized as Libby undressed me. She stood behind me and unbuttoned my blouse, exposing my black sheer bra and then unclipping it so my breasts were totally naked. I felt her hands at the waist of my skirt which subsequently fell to my feet. She, still dressed, pushed me gently to the bed and Delphine pushed aside the cover and I saw she was naked, beautiful, with her legs apart.


My head was guided by Libby’s firm hand and I bent forward as Delphie swivelled so her legs were dangling over the side of the bed. My face was forced gently between her thighs and I began to lick and kiss and suck at her labia, clitoris, cunt. Hands roamed down my back as I knelt there, adoring the wet warmth of her and I felt my knickers being pulled slowly down my legs.


For a while, it was just me and Delphine. I was unaware of anything else even though I crawled onto the bed as she reclined, knees raised and wide apart, her hands in my hair. Then I felt pressure on my cunt and I knew I was about to be penetrated by a strappy.


“Take your time, Libby. I want to enjoy watching you fuck her,” Delphine said.


It was a slow, gentle insertion. The dildo slithered into my wetness and I felt hands on my arse as it did so. The women were not preventing me from moving, but holding me in a position to allow Libby into me easily. It was simply breathtaking.


Delphine gave a sort of commentary, “That’s it, darling, gently into her. Let her enjoy me as we enjoy her. Fuck her now, yes, like that. Rock your hips. Take it almost out. Now ease back in like you do for me, like I do for you. Shall we both fuck her?”


Her fingers tightened in my hair. “Would you like us both to fuck you? Of course you would. Don’t worry, we will.”


She came at that moment. It was a little cum, a tremor, but obviously an orgasm because there was an increase, a sudden flood of her liquids which burst on my tongue. Her little sigh of pleasure was a joy to my ears. As she lay back, Libby began to increase her pace behind me and it wasn’t long before I followed her into ecstasy.


After a short recovery period during which we lay together, me the meat in the sandwich, hands gently roaming, caressing, Libby pulled me to her and kissed my mouth.


“Delphine wants to fuck you now.”


I was not complaining. And so the situation was reversed and I knelt between Libby’s legs and did my best with my tongue and lips while Delphine, after a short while watching, knelt behind me and fucked me. She was harder than Libby, thrusting gently at first but rising to a rapid pounding that took us both to loud climaxes. Libby took a little longer and so I had to work on through my orgasm but I wasn’t going to let her get away without one.


I stayed the night and when I woke up it was just me and Delphine.


“Libs had a breakfast meeting,” She grinned. “I don’t.”




I called Babs that night after a hard day’s badgering for people to support Sylvia Tennant.


“I thought I’d share a little story with you. You might want to get comfortable.”


I told her about my adventure with Libby and Delphine. I spared no detail and was gratified to hear her, eventually, let out a sigh of delicious satisfaction. I had agreed with her that we were not going to be exclusive but that we’d have no secrets. It was working for us. There were no petty jealousies, no recriminations. She loved to hear that I’d had pleasure and loved even more that we were able to share.


“Bloody hell, Sam. You lucky, dirty bitch.”

“I know.”


“I’m coming up tomorrow but I’ll be late. Don’t wait up for me.”


‘We’ll see.”


I saw Libby the following morning. She smiled and kissed my cheek and whispered, “Lovely, wasn’t it?”


I didn’t have time to agree because she went on, “Tennant’s doing well, or rather you’re doing well for her. Keep in touch and let’s have an evening together soon?”


I nodded and she smiled and turned away, her mind immediately fixed on something else.


I got into the flat about nine that evening and stripped off, poured myself a monster gin and tonic and had a shower. I pulled on my purple night-dress, the one Babs adores. It has tiny, tiny straps, a low back and a V shaped neckline. It falls to my ankles and feels divine.


Thus refreshed, I took my gin into the sitting room and turned on the news. There was plenty of talk about the leadership contest and, during all that, my phone pinged a few times with messages that I couldn’t be arsed to deal with. Sylvia Tennant was getting lots of attention and she was, as we agreed, playing it straight and modestly.


I heard the door of the flat open and turned to see Babs arriving, towing a small suitcase and carrying a laptop bag. She was wearing a long black leather coat which was open to reveal blue cutoffs and red t shirt. Her tits were firm and free beneath it.


I called out to her, “Hey, Babs – want a drink?”


“Too bloody right I do. Get it for me, will you, and I’ll get my stuff into the bedroom.”


I heard the shower running as I poured the gin for her and carried it back into the sitting room. I sat and continued to watch the news. I was a bit engrossed and wasn’t really aware she’d come into the room until I heard a sigh as she sipped her drink. I turned to look at her and was astonished.


She was almost naked. Her strappy was poking out of a pair of silk shorts she liked to wear in bed, deepest red with white edging. Otherwise, she wore nothing. She grinned at me.






“Get over here then, Babs has something for you,” She stroked her dildo lasciviously. “Lift that gorgeous nightie and let me see you.”


I lifted it and she urged me closer with a wiggle of her finger. When I was in reach she put her finger between my legs and started gently to stroke my cunt. She indicated I should bend and kiss her which I did and as her tongue slithered into my mouth so her finger slithered into me too. It wasn’t long before I was wet, very wet.


“Sit on it, Sam, hold your nightie out the way so I can see.”



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