The Speaker’s gavel struck wood.

“By a vote of 271 to 269, ‘The Protection and Legalisation of Erotic Art and Services’ bill fails at the first reading.”

Murmurs erupted across the chamber. Some MPs groaned. Others allowed themselves a clap or a cheer. Over by the dispatch box, a few of the Citizens United for New Truth backbenchers exchanged high fives.

Amy Calder didn’t blink. Her arms were folded, her eyes fixed dead ahead, and the muscle in her jaw had started to twitch. Next to her, Zara Voss leaned back in her seat with a sigh.

“Well that went well,” Zara said quietly, brushing her silver fringe away from her face.

Amy didn’t respond. Her fingers tapped once against the inside of her elbow. The pair of them rose in unison and filed out of the chamber.

Outside, the media were already circling. Placards waved through the wrought iron gates. Some were handwritten and furious, some professional and quietly despairing. On the large screens in the press gallery, a preened MP from C.U.N.T was speaking into five microphones at once.

“This is a clear message from the people,” she was saying. “The Commons has rejected this filth. The nation has spoken for family, for decency, and for traditional values.”

Zara snorted. “I swear she practices that tone in the mirror every morning.”

“Not helpful,” Amy muttered, pushing through the press door with her shoulder.

In the corridor outside Committee Room B, one of their own aides hurried up with a tablet.

“Party leadership wants a word,” he said. “Now.”

Of course they did.

The small room was already half full. Someone had opened a window, but the stink of sweat and frustration lingered.

“We were two votes short,” said Minh Talbot, the Chief Whip. “Two.”

“We know how to count, Minh,” Amy replied. Her tone was crisp, not cold. 

“You need to get it through next reading,” he said, ignoring her. “This bill is policy-critical. Legacy stuff. If we can’t pass this with the New Union guys in the coalition, then the coalition’s worthless.”

The Liberal Union for Social Transformation party had come from nowhere. In just eighteen months, they'd gone from an online movement to the biggest party in the chamber, riding a wave of youth-driven activism, viral campaigns, and total disillusionment with the old parties. 

Their manifesto had struck a nerve with under-thirties, pragmatic, progressive, and bold. The general election delivered them a surge of seats and a fresh-faced army of MPs, many of them barely into their thirties. Amy Calder and Zara Voss were two of the standouts: articulate, photogenic, and both smart as a whip. 

But victory wasn’t complete. Without a full majority, the Liberal Union had been forced to broker a coalition with the New Union for Democratic Empowerment, a smaller eco-progressive party that had picked up a couple seats, riding the same wave of hopeful anger as the L.U.S.T. Party. Now, with the P.L.E.A.S.E. Act hanging in the balance, that alliance was showing cracks.

“They’re not off it completely,” Zara said. “Just... hesitant. Scared of headlines.”

“There’s an opportunity with Rourke,” the aide said, glancing at his screen. “Leak just hit the newswires. Someone passed on an internal N.U.D.E. email. Alex Rourke is wavering against the party line. We might be able to get him on board, and then the PM can break the tie.”

Amy took the tablet from him and scrolled through the message, her expression unreadable. Her pale blue eyes moved quickly across the screen as she ran a hand through her dark black hair. Zara leaned in, reading over her shoulder, her white hair brushing against Amy’s without either of them pulling away. Her bright green eyes flicked over the text, sharp with interest. 

The two had become close friends quickly after the election, finding that, despite their different styles, their values aligned almost perfectly. Amy was focused, driven, and always businesslike; she took things seriously and got things done. Zara was looser, all charm and mischief, with a knack for teasing smiles out of tense rooms and persuading even the stiffest opposition to see things her way. Together, they balanced each other.

“Focus on this,” said Minh, already heading for the door. “I want Alex voting yes on this. Make it happen. However you have to.”

The door closed behind him with a quiet click.

Amy let out a low breath. “Well. I suppose we’d better try.”

Zara handed back the tablet. “We’ll speak to him.” Her bright eyes filling with something Amy was learning normally meant trouble.

Amy smiled. “By speak, what do you mean exactly?”

“I mean,” Zara said, “we’ll handle it.”

She turned and walked toward the office without waiting for a response.

Alex stood awkwardly in the threshold of the office, his satchel still slung across his shoulder, caught somewhere between formal and unsure. He was a junior member of the small N.U.D.E. party. He hadn’t been given any of the few ministerial jobs the New Unionist had gotten as part of the coalition agreement. He knew of Zara and Amy; they were loud voices in the commons, and being invited to a meeting with them was intimidating. 

Zara leaned back against the desk, one heel hooked over the other, arms folded. Her blouse was slightly unbuttoned, and her hair framed her face in a way that didn’t feel accidental.

“Thanks for coming, Alex,” said Zara. “We thought it best to go over the finer clauses of the P.L.E.A.S.E. Act in a more... intimate setting.” She fixed him with her gaze, a playful bright green but sharp as glass. 

Amy sat by the window, a glass of something amber resting in her hand. The light caught on the crystal and bounced across the table, but her gaze didn’t move. She watched him.

Alex hesitated at the threshold, then placed his satchel carefully on the floor. He cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket. “I wasn’t sure if this was a formal meeting.”

“It’s just a conversation,” said Amy. “Off the record.”

He nodded once and sat. His posture was upright. Hands clasped, elbows tucked in, as if any moment he might be called on to defend himself. His eyes shifted between the two women. 

Amy set her glass down and dived right in. “Sex work is work. It deserves the same labour protections as any other profession. Employment rights. Legal safeguards. Access to healthcare without fear.”

Alex paused. His throat moved as he swallowed. He glanced at the table, then back at them. Amy was still. Zara’s heel tapped against the desk behind her. Her eyes didn’t move.

“It’s not that I’m against protection,” he said finally. “But doesn’t it normalise sex as a commodity? Do we really want to send the message that people’s bodies are just... for sale?”

Zara scoffed. “They already are; it’s everywhere, not just porn and prostitutes. Is there really a difference between a man doing backbreaking manual labour that can leave his body decrepit by his thirties and a woman using her body to make a pay cheque?”

She took a step forward. Her boots clicked softly on the floor.

“The only real difference is who gets to profit and who gets punished.”

“This bill isn’t about encouragement. It’s about harm reduction. About acknowledging the reality that already exists and reducing the damage done by pretending it doesn’t.” Amy continued.

Alex’s hands shifted in his lap. His knuckles pressed together. His eyes dropped again, then lifted.

“Where do we draw the line, though? Just because it’s happening doesn’t make it OK. There’s nuance.”

“We’re not pretending it’s perfect,” said Zara. “Politics isn’t perfect. But what we’ve got now is worse. Right now, people are being assaulted and trafficked in silence. Because the whole thing’s been shoved underground.”

She took another step forward. Just enough to make the room feel smaller. “We want to give them rights and protections. That’s the line, better than what we have now.”

Alex shifted in his chair. “We support protection,” he said. “Not promotion. There’s a difference. Some in N.U.D.E. think this bill crosses that.”

Zara’s expression didn’t change. She walked a little further until she stood just to the left of him. Her eyes stayed on his face. Not blinking. Not softening. “You can’t protect people if they are too afraid to come forward.”

Amy rose from her chair. She didn’t rush. Every movement was smooth and precise. Her heels made no sound against the carpet. She crossed to him, stopping just beside his chair.

He looked up. Slowly. His jaw was tight. His pupils had dilated.

She stared down at him, face calm, her blue eyes cold at the edges and warm in the middle. Something alive flickered behind them. “Do you honestly object to decriminalising bodily autonomy?” she asked. 

Her fingers brushed against the edge of his sleeve. “Maybe we could persuade you with... oral arguments.”

Alex blinked once. Then again. His mouth opened, but no words followed. He glanced from Amy’s eyes to Zara’s, then back again. Amy leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft but unyielding. 

His body tensed at the contact, arms frozen, mouth unmoving. Then he felt Zara’s presence behind him. Her arms looped around his waist, steady and sure. Her breathing was soft and excited by his ear.

He exhaled slowly, the fight slipping from his shoulders. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted this.

Zara’s fingers moved to his jacket buttons. Amy reached for his tie. They worked together in silence, efficient and focused. Nothing hurried, nothing wasted. Each button unfastened with care. Every fold of fabric drawn away and dropped without fuss.

His shirt came off. His belt followed. Then the zip. They peeled him back to bare skin, removing the last barriers between them.

Amy knelt before him. She didn’t break eye contact, staring up at him. Those eyes bewitching him.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, cool fingers warming quickly with motion. Her voice came low and dry. “We’re very hands-on about implementation.”

Zara crouched beside her, resting one palm on Alex’s leg. Her green eyes stared into him. “We find that it really stimulates our base.”

Amy leaned in close and licked his tip with a single slow stroke, then followed by wrapping her lips around his manhood. 

Zara kissed along the shaft, her breath brushing against his skin, cupping his balls with one hand, the other tracing lazy patterns over his body.

They moved in rhythm, trading places without words. One took the head, the other the base, then they switched. Their mouths and hands worked together with quiet ease, each movement confident. Pleasure surged in him as the two stunning women shared him with obvious enjoyment.

What really captivated him was the eye contact. Amy peered up as she licked him, her pale blue eyes fixed on his. Zara’s eyes danced between them, watching Amy, watching Alex, reading every reaction.

He let out a groan. The sound escaped before he could suppress it. Despite the stimulation, he continued his argument. “I just...” He swallowed hard and started again. “Exploitation. If it’s legalised, won’t more women end up exploited?”

Zara paused, her eyes boring into him as Amy slowly bobbed next to her. “Exploitation’s happening now, Alex. Behind closed doors. In alleyways. In bedsits with no contracts and no recourse.” Her hand continued to fondle him slowly. 

Then she leaned across and kissed Amy’s collarbone. “This bill isn’t fantasy. It’s protection. It gives rights. It gives workers legal standing. Access to healthcare. The power to say no.” She continued, each sentence punctuated as she kissed her way down Amy’s neck, unbuttoning her blouse on the way until she finally reached Amy’s breast, licking the soft curve with lazy precision. Zara stopped talking at this point, her focus entirely on Amy’s chest.

Amy let out a quiet moan. Then a deeper one, as Zara’s teeth closed gently around her nipple.

“Mmm,” Amy said. “Legislation with teeth.”

Amy’s focus slipped.

She pulled her mouth off Alex as she was too busy moaning; her hand was still working him, but the pressure softened as her attention shifted fully to Zara. Her eyes dropped to the silver-white hair pressed against her chest. Her fingers threaded into it, a low groan emanating from her.

Zara gave the nipple one last soft bite before pulling back. And seeing that Alex was not getting enough attention. She pushed Amy aside and settled between Alex’s legs. Then she leaned in, her mouth wrapping around the head of his cock, replacing Amy’s warmth with her own. 

Amy started to undress Zara, unbuttoning her blouse just as Zara had done to her. She kissed a line down her torso, her tongue tracing soft circles around each nipple before she moved lower. 

Zara moaned around him. Her back arched slightly, but she didn’t stop sucking.

Amy reached her thighs. Lifting her skirt and pulling her knickers to the side. Then her mouth found its mark. Her tongue moved in slow, purposeful strokes, her head tilting to shift the pressure where it mattered.

Alex peered past Zara’s head, between his legs, to see Amy, her mouth working on Zara with complete focus. Her eyes flicked up, locking onto his. There was nothing shy in the way she stared at him. She held his gaze while she licked her way deeper into Zara’s body.

He turned his attention to Zara. Whose lips were still around him. Her head moved slowly, but he could see her hands tightening. One held the base of his cock. The other gripped Amy’s hair, fingers twisted through the strands.

Her green eyes were on him. Wide. Glazed. She tried to stay focused, to hold her rhythm, but it was slipping. Her hips started to move, gyrating into Amy’s face with small, helpless thrusts.

Alex could barely breathe.

Zara’s grip on him faltered, then returned with more urgency. Her strokes became erratic, her mouth losing sync with her hand. She pulled back briefly, gasping, then took him in again.

Amy didn’t stop.

Zara’s thighs tensed. Her spine arched. Her breath came fast and shallow.

“Fuck,” she whispered, not to either of them, not even to herself.

Her whole body jerked forward. She cried out, hips bucking, both hands grabbing whatever they could. One on Amy’s hair, pulling tight. The other wrapped around Alex, pumping him with clumsy intensity as her orgasm rolled through her.

Her moan broke into short, high pants.

Then she stilled, her mouth slipping off Alex’s cock as she slumped forward, chest heaving.

Amy gave one last soft lick, then sat back on her heels, her face flushed, lips wet, before crawling up and replacing Zara. 

Amy’s mouth slid back down over his cock, eagerly picking up where she had left off. She sucked with purpose, tongue curling around the underside, movements steady and practiced. Her eyes didn’t leave his.

Zara let her body sink down by Amy, and once she had gotten her breath back, she moved in, spreading Amy’s legs further apart and pulling on her lacy knickers until they ripped, allowing Zara access to her soaking wet core. She pressed a kiss to the crease where her thigh met her cunt, then another.

“This is like the rise in OnlyFans,” Zara said, her voice low, lips brushing against Amy’s inner labia. “Ideally, yeah, we build an economy where sex work isn’t out of desperation...”

She ran her tongue between the folds, slow and deliberate, tasting the slick heat gathered there. Her fingers parted Amy’s lips, exposing the soft pink centre beneath. She pressed the tip of her tongue against the clit and circled once, twice, then licked across the whole soaked slit.

Amy let out a muffled moan around Alex’s cock.

Zara didn’t stop.

She dipped lower, tongue teasing just inside, then dragged it up again, stopping to flick the swollen nub before sucking it between her lips.

“But right now...” Zara said into Amy’s cunt, “millions do it. And they deserve protection.”

Amy groaned again, louder now. Her back arched. Her thighs trembled. She pulled off Alex’s cock for a moment, gasping for breath.

Her hand kept stroking him, fingers tight and slick with spit.

Alex stared. Amy’s mouth glistening from his cock, her face flushed, lips parted. Zara’s porcelain hair spread between her thighs, head bobbing, tongue working with ferocious focus. He was getting closer and closer, but as Zara’s intensity increased, Amy was starting to struggle. 

Amy tried to keep her rhythm on him, but her moans were rising fast, her grip faltering with every flick of Zara’s tongue.

Zara sucked hard on her clit, and Amy broke. Alex saw the moment in her large, stunning eyes as they unfocused. No longer staring at him but staring off into infinity as her body started to react.

She cried out, her whole body convulsing. Her thighs clamped around Zara’s head as her orgasm crashed through her. She rocked forward, breath shuddering, eyes half-closed, and eyelids fluttering.

Zara held on, tongue still teasing, drawing out every twitch and pulse until Amy finally slumped forward, chest heaving, arms braced against Alex’s legs.

Amy looked up slowly, strands of hair stuck to her cheek, lips wet, eyes hazy but burning with something fierce. “I’m sorry, Alex. We were supposed to be convincing you, but we got a little carried away with our own pleasure.” She was smiling, and Zara saw a glimmer of her own mischievous glint flickering in Amy’s eyes. Zara followed Amy’s lead.

Both women knelt in front of him. Their hands met at the base of his cock, warm fingers stroking him in tandem. Neither rushed. They took their time, drawing it out.

Alex was close. His body trembled. He was glancing between their eyes. Both of them seemed to gaze right into his soul as they stroked him.

Amy’s grip tightened just slightly as she paused her stroking.

“So, Alex,” she said, voice smooth, tone clinical. “In favour... or opposed?”

Zara glanced up, lips slightly parted, eyes dark with mischief. “We need your support,” she said. “Preferably right now.”

Alex groaned, unable to resist the pull of the two gorgeous women. “Yes,” he gasped. “God, yes.”

Amy smiled, steady as ever. “That’s a yea for the record.”

He came with a shudder, thick and forceful, spilling across their hands, their mouths, and their cheeks. They didn’t move. They held his gaze the whole time, grinning as he released over them, their eyes bright with something unspoken and entirely unrepentant.

His legs gave out. He slumped in the chair, chest heaving, pulse loud in his ears.

Zara stood first. She reached for a tissue but didn’t rush to use it. Amy followed, buttoning her blouse again, one at a time, eyes still on Alex.

Zara glanced at her partner, then back at him.

“I think we’ve reached bipartisan agreement.”

Amy stepped forward, eyes flicking down to where his cock still twitched in the open air.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Looks like a firm commitment to me.”

The next day the chamber buzzed. Rows of MPs sat rigid in their seats, papers clutched, hands folded, faces carefully arranged into masks of calm. The speaker cleared their throat and called the reading.

The P.L.E.A.S.E. Act was reintroduced. The title echoed across the room, dull and official. The vote was called. Names were shouted. Voices replied. 

Alex sat in silence, staring down at his desk. His hand hovered, fingers twitching slightly. 

He cast his eyes across the floor; Amy met him, her piercing gaze enchanting him again. Zara was sitting next to her, her green eyes fixed on him too. In those eyes he saw the reflection of last night and the promise of more. Just looking at them sent thrills of arousal through him. It was almost like they had conditioned him, and he was responding to those eyes like a dog to a bell. He was lucky he didn’t start drooling.

His name was called. Alex inhaled once. Then gave his answer. “Yes.”

The rest of the votes were taken. It seemed to stretch on to eternity. Until finally, “The Ayes have it.” It was over. The vote had passed. Murmurs swept across the benches. Some were surprised. Some were furious. 

Amy turned her head. Zara did the same. They both looked straight at Alex. He couldn’t focus on anything other than their eyes, boring into his soul.

That moment stretched. 

Alex thought to himself, “The eyes definitely have it.”