Council of Quadrant Queens
- 1 year ago
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A Council Of Perfection - 2 free porn video
Liz Prosser was in her office in the Town Hall. She had spent the afternoon in a hotel room with Marion Carswell. During their joint trip to the Maldives they”d recognised that their sexual needs matched even better than they”d first believed and that afternoon they had indulged themselves. Carswell was a dominant woman in her work and in her play and Prosser had the red arse of a well spanked sub. Her chair, soft though it was, did not make her comfortable but the constant reminder of the spanking ensured Liz was wet in her knickers as she studied some paperwork.
And then the phone rang and all thoughts of her afternoon of delight went up in smoke.
Arnie was doing what Arnie did best. He”d marshaled his troops, set out the agenda and the plan of action. He”d arranged a meeting with Marion Carswell for the following morning so that, as the paper hit the streets that morning, the information could go to the authorities if appropriate. He”d always enjoyed a healthy working relationship with Carswell even if he hated the sight of her. He was making sure there could ne no criticism of him, the paper or his staff. You had to love him.
The copy was written but we were holding it until we”d given our subjects a chance to comment. I wasn”t holding my breath.
I went to my desk. We had a large, open-plan newsroom with Arnie”s office at one end of it. I”d moved as my career progressed from the far end of the room to a desk almost at the top of the room near him; in such ways are reporters rewarded.
Arnie, opened his door and bellowed, “Right you guys, start calling.”
My appointed task was to call Prosser and get any comment I could and I now actually was holding my breath. I rang her home since it was after office hours but there was no reply. I knew the Council switchboard would be shut so I rang her mobile.
“Liz Prosser.”
“Mrs Prosser, this is Charlie Curzon form the Western Sentinel.”
“I”ve seen your byline Ms Curzon and I admire your work. How can I help you?”
You’re not going to admire this, I thought to myself. I picked up a pen even though the tape was running. “Mrs Prosser….”
“Call me Liz, please.”
“Thank you, Liz I’ve been working on a story about corruption in local politics and I wondered if you’d be kind enough to give me some comments.”
“Well, we all know such things happen but happily our council has always been of the highest integrity and I hope it will always remain so. Abuse of one’s position is a disgraceful crime.”
“Could I ask you about Gordon Harper?” There was a distinct intake of breath at the other end of the line. “Mr Harper recently secured permission for his leisure development on the old bus station site that had been earmarked for low rise housing development. I wondered what had led to the council’s decision which seems to fly in the face of what the public wanted.”
“We listen very carefully to the public, Ms Curzon and now you must forgive me but I have a great deal of work to deal with.”
“I know you’re a busy woman but I have a couple more questions, if I may. Were you once called Masters?”
“No, now please…..”
“Do you have a company that you control in Jersey?”
The phone went dead and I did a small air-punch. Denial and refusal to comment always thrill me. Time to call Harper but his phones were all engaged and I knew the fun had really started. I looked up and saw Arnie waving furiously at me, the phone jammed between his shoulder and his ear.
Dropping my pen I hurried through into his office.
He scribbled one word on a pad in front of him and even upside down I could read the word “Carswell.” So someone, probably Prosser, had been straight on to her.
One side of Arnie’s conversation was enough for me to get the idea of what was being said. If our paper had information regarding allegations of corruption in public office we should take them straight to the law and not meddle. “We are doing our job.”
The police are the proper authority to deal with this.
“That’s why I arranged a meeting with you tomorrow, Chief Constable, to hand over our material.”
“Where did you get this from?”
“You know we never reveal our sources.”
And on and on. In the end Arnie politely said he’d see her in the morning and hung up the phone.
“You know what, Charlie? I reckon this is going to do your career no harm at all.”
The headline was not picked up by other news media until the first papers went on sale early the next morning, so all our secrecy had paid off. I hadn’t slept all night. I know it”s narcissistic but I can never get over the thrill of seeing my name at the top of a front-page story.
I was buzzing, too excited to sleep so I went to the coffee shop near the police station and sent a text to Karen. She arrived a few minutes later looking tired and strained; another night of chasing villains. She kissed me then looked down at the headline on the paper on the table.
DID LOCAL COUNCILOR ACCEPT A BRIBE IN EXCHANGE FOR PLANNING CONSENT?
“Oh, Charlie.” She grinned and held my hand tightly. “You did it.”
It was a rule that whenever she gave me a lead we never, ever spoke of it again. Even at this point I was determined not to let her involvement slip.
“Well, I’m the ace reporter.”
“So you are, you clever thing.”
We chatted about the story, the next move, because like most papers, we always held stuff back so we could let the story run for a few days. Circulation would rise, advertising revenue would increase along, I hoped, with my salary.
Somehow telling Karen, kissing her good bye and leaving the coffee shop had stopped the adrenalin and I felt dog-tired so I wandered home for a couple of hours shut eye before facing the fray later.
I woke up when my phone alarm went off and felt like shit. I showered and got dressed ready to get back to the office and get on with phase two.
“Marion Carswell is a very unhappy bunny,” said Arnie who was drinking scotch and looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
“I think we rather expected that. Has she spoken about her trip to the Maldives?”
“I decided not to ask her about that yet. We’re putting that bit out tonight as you know and I always like to give someone a surprise on her birthday.” Arnie’s grin was infectious. “We’re also doing the detail on the company in Jersey and I have a feeling that the ‘Robert Peel’ who is one of the controllers might just be a copper, no?”
This was not new – we’d all thought the same but it paid sometimes to let Arnie think he’s thought of it first which, to be fair, he usually did.
“So, Carswell says she’ll pass all our material to the fraud squad. We’ll see. Prosser’s solicitor has been screaming blue murder at ours so that’s a good sign. Let’s get tonight’s copy checked and then we get the next edition out. I want you to call Carswell and tell her we’re going to be writing about her trip to the Maldives.”
“Why me?”
“I think it’ll unsettle her.”
So, I went to my desk and called the police headquarters. To my surprise Carswell accepted the call.
“What can I do for you, Miss Curzon?”
“I’d like to run a few things past you, some detail that we’re working on relating to Liz Prosser. How well do you know her?”
“I know her professionally of course. I cant say I know her any more than as a councilor of long standing and if the material Mr Miller gave me this morning is true then I am very disappointed in her. You can be sure our fraud squad will deal with it appropriately.”
“I’m sure, Chief Constable. I hope you enjoyed your recent holiday?”
“I don’t think you”re calling to ask about my social and private life are you?”
“Oh, but I am. You see we have reason to believe that your trip to the Maldives was paid for by Liz Prosser and that you travelled together.”
This was met with silence and I let the question hang, surprised she didn’t ring off.
“You’re a lesbian, Ms Curzon?”
“Is that relevant?”
“It might be. There is sometimes a certain solidarity amongst lesbians, isn’t there? The sort that lets questions remain unasked and unanswered.” Wow, I thought, this is an interesting development.
“I’m off the record, correct?”
“I’m afraid not, Chief Constable. These questions are relevant to our enquiry.”
“Then so, probably, is your relationship with Detective Inspector Fleming.”
Now, I’d been expecting this and Arnie and I had discussed how I should deal with it.
“I guess the difference is that DI Fleming is not Chief Constable and I’m not a councilor who is suspected of corruption.”
“You are trying to link me to that corruption?”
“I’m asking you to confirm that your recent holiday was paid for by Liz Prosser.”
“Do you intend to print that?”
“We intend to print what we can substantiate.”
“I advise you to be very, very careful, Ms Curzon. Things can get very rough in matters of this sort.” I knew then she had lost it. I sensed she wished she’d never said it and there was a long silence which I chose not to fill before her phone clicked off.
I played the tape to Arnie. He was ecstatic. I was less so. I feared for Karen so I called her private mobile and left a message. She called me back a few minutes later.
“I’ll come round to your place around ten, Charlie. I”ve got a bit to finish off and then we can talk this through.”
Arnie and the rest of the team promised to finish up and I went home arriving around nine. I was worried for Karen but her arrival reassured me even though she looked tired and was dressed in her work clothes, jeans, trainers and a loose sweater and a leather jacket over it. We kissed, I poured wine and we sat at my kitchen table.
“All hell’s broken out according to Sharon. Carswell was on the phone for ages after you called her. She then had a meeting with her deputies and the lawyers then she packed her things and left for the day.”
“You know she mentioned you in our conversation?”
“Well, we’ve never made any secret of our relationship and she was bound to know and bound to suspect I was your source but she can’t prove it and her problems are far worse than any I might have. I saw my boss. He knows what’s going on and he said he had complete faith in me and that if Carswell’s in the shit all well and good. Did you give her any reason to think either Sharon or I was your source?”
“Of course I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t but I had to ask to make sure Sharon’s safe. I really never thought you would have.”
I held her hand. “Will you both be Okay?”
“The force never likes this sort of thing and there’ll be an enquiry but it’s really no problem.”
We watched the news together but the local bit was a rehash of our news from the morning edition. The stuff about Carswell would hit the newstands the following morning and then the proverbial would hit the fan. Karen seemed absolutely fine and although we were both tired we went upstairs.
We took a long shower together in my large, walk-in and kissed and stroked as we soaped and rinsed each other. I spent longer than necessary washing her pussy and arse and she did the same for me. I dropped to my knees for a while and felt the warm water running off her onto me as I licked and kissed her thighs and cunt. She liked me to call it her cunt. “That’s precisely what it is.”
Karen lay back, naked on my bed and I knelt between her thighs once more, loving her slowly and gently. I sucked her clit which is larger than mine and, thanks to the shower, was plainly aroused and engorged and her fingers slipped through my hair as her knees spread wider and lifted so I could get as close as possible.
I slipped a finger into her welcoming pussy and stroked deep inside her, sensing her arousal, controlled and growing. She made soft pleasure noises which grew in volume as I worked lips, tongue and finger and, like me, the finger that entered her bottom at the moment I judged her to nearing the edge worked a little magic and she almost lifted off the bed as she came with a stifled scream.
In the morning I got up early and made tea for us both which I took back to bed. We sat side by side and discussed what was going to happen today.
I’d shown her the copy that was going to be in the day’s edition and she’d been really excited. “God knows how you found this stuff. You’re amazing.”
“Actually, most of the really good stuff came from Arnie’s friend. All I did was pull it all together.” I didn’t mind her compliments even slightly.
At the same time as Charlie Curzon was sharing wine with Karen the previous evening, Prosser was bent over a table in a flat belonging to a friend of hers. She was naked and her rather pendulous breasts bounced on the table top as Carswell rammed into her with her strapon. Carswell was naked too and she was also angry which meant Liz was getting it good and hard, not that she was complaining. They’d often used this place to avoid being seen at either of their homes together.
Carswell arrived fifteen minutes after Liz and had checked as carefully as she could nobody was watching the place. As Karen had observed, she looked immaculate as always. She was not in uniform but wore a pair of black tailored trousers and a dark grey blouse under a black jacket. “Have you said anything, anything at all to the papers?”
Prosser shook her head, “Nothing.”
“I had a call from that bitch Curzon today. They know about our trip.”
“Jesus, Marion, how could you have let that slip?”
Curzon raised a warning eyebrow. “Watch your mouth, bitch. I didn’t let anything slip.” She wasn’t entirely sure about that. “How secure is your office?”
“You cant think…..”
“Well someone”s been talking. It can’t be Curzon”s girlfriend, she couldn’t know anything. Nobody in my office knows anything so if it isn’t from my end, it has to be from yours. What about that dog-ugly secretary of yours.”
“She’s loyal and anyway she doesn’t know a thing.”
Carswell doubted that very much. “Well, it’s going to get bloody hot for both of us and we need to get our story straight.” She put her hand under Prosser’s chin. “We’ll do that when I have fucked some sense into you. Is your arse still sore?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, its not going to get any less so.”
She’d gone to the toilet and when she returned her strappy was poking out of her trouser fly.
“Strip and get over the table. Where does your so-called husband think you are?”
“He doesn’t know and doesn’t care.”
“Who knows about this place?” As she asked she pressed a finger roughly into Prosser’s cunt.
“Nobody. My friend knows I use it but she’s in Washington for a month.”
“What does your friend think you use it for?”
“Sex, with a man at the council.”
“She probably thinks he’s a parking warden. Is there a cleaner?”
“Once a week and she’s already been.”
The wet finger slipped hard into her arse and she squealed.
“Please don’t hurt me Marion.”
But it was too late. Carswell was angry and aroused; a dangerous combination and she wasn’t sure of herself either which made it even more dangerous.
Five minutes later she came as Prosser slumped, exhausted on the table. She gave her arse one more brutal slap and stood, her dildo deep in the councilor’s bruised arse and hoped this wasn’t the last time she’d get to fuck her. She really was a total whore.
CHIEF CONSTABLE LINKED TO COUNCILOR AT HEART OF CORRUPTION SCANDAL.
‘The Western Sentinel has discovered that Marion Carswell, Chief of the City’s police force spent a holiday in the Maldives with Mrs Liz Prosser days after the Councilor’s planning department granted permission for Gordon Harper’s controversial development in the heart of the city. We understand Mrs Prosser paid for the trip from an account in Jersey which is controlled by a Liz Masters and Robert Peel. There are remarkable similarities between a photograph from the Sentinel’s archive of a Liz Masters and Mrs Prosser. Liz Masters was connected to Gordon Harper when he ran clubs in the city which were closed down after repeated allegations and, in some cases, prosecutions for providing illicit sexual services.’
Three full pages, all substantiated or, where not, couched in terms that left wriggle room for our legal department. We had a few more equally damning snippets to leak out over the next two or three days but the story had gathered real momentum, had been syndicated to a national and now the big media were trampling all over it.
‘Gordon Harper’s company paid money to Jersey company linked to Prosser.’
On and on the drip of new, damning information but what was missing was Harper.
I decided since work was over and Karen was working, I’d go to one of my favourite lesbian bars and have a drink with a few friends. The owner, Zoe Portman, was a drop dead gorgeous butch of fifty who always had a string of baby dykes serving for her. I wasn’t looking for sex although it would have been dead easy, I just wanted not to be alone. The bar is down a small alley close to the Abbey and as my heels slipped a little on the cobbles a hand came out of the darkness of an unlit doorway and gripped my arm incredibly hard. I was turned so my back was to my assailant and I could smell smoker’s breath and feel a hardon against my arse.
The revolting breath turned to words in my ear. “Mr Harper sends his regards, Miss Curzon. He hopes you have a safe evening and that you think carefully about the health of your lovely girlfriend, Detective Inspector Fleming. Nobody’s above the law, not even the law.”
My arm was freed but as it was I felt a massive kick in the back of my knee which sent me sprawling to the ground and then he stamped on my ankle. The pain was so intense I passed out.
I came to lying on the cobbles. I hurt everywhere but, when I tried to stand, it was mostly in my ankle. I dragged myself to my feet and kicked off my heels so I could hop more safely, supporting myself on the walls of the alley until I got to Zoe’s bar.
It was quiet when I opened the door and fortunately, Zoe herself was behind the counter. She looked up, looked away and then looked back again and hurried to help me. She put my arm across her shoulders and summonsed more help from one of her babies and together they almost carried me to a table.
“Get her a brandy, a large one. I’ll call Karen. Do you want an ambulance?”
“I don’t know.”
Zoe turned to her babe, “Stay with her.” I passed out again.
When I came to, Karen’s arm was around me and a paramedic was standing by. The ambulance woman spoke first.
“What’s your name?”
“Charlie.” I then threw up violently over Karen.
I don’t really remember much about the next hours. I drifted in and out of consciousness but every time I knew where I was Karen was there.
“You puked on my jeans!”
“Sorry.”
“S’ok, they needed a wash anyway. How’re you feeling?”
“Shit –have they decided what’s wrong with me?”
“You’re ankles busted and you were concussed hence the projectile puking. What happened?”
So, I told her. No, I never saw his face, yes, I would know his voice again and his smell.
I asked her, “Did he….?”
“No, sweetheart, he didn’t rape you.” She held my hand. “I’ll find out who did this.” Her promise had a deep menace in it.
“Leave it to the professionals. You’re drug squad.”
She grinned and squeezed my hand. “Will you come home with me when they discharge you? I’ll look after you.”
Before I could reply, Arnie arrived looking like he’d been through a car wash without a car around him, carrying a bottle of scotch in a brown paper bag, a tattered bunch of flowers and a file.
“Want me to leave?” asked Karen.
“Certainly not,” said Arnie. “This is too good not to hear.” He poured three glasses of scotch. “Prosser’s been arrested and Carswell’s been suspended. I just heard.”
Karen looked at me sternly. “Should you be drinking scotch?”
“She’s a reporter for Chrissake,” said Arnie as if that explained everything.
Marion Carswell stood in full dress uniform before the Police Committee.
The Chairman spoke. “You have our full confidence, Chief Constable, but you will understand that we cannot leave you in charge until these accusations, scurrilous though they may be, are resolved. I’m sure you understand.”
“I quite understand, Roger. I will be exonerated of course.”
“No doubt. Do you wish to tell the committee anything?”
“I think it best to say nothing until the time is right.”
Liz Prosser was not so reticent. She had heard about Charlie Curzon’s ‘accident’ and had a strong suspicion that her best and safest course of action was to cooperate with the forces of law and order.
She spilled everything: her relationships with Harper and Carswell, her original identity, the bribery. She opened herself completely hoping that, as her solicitor advised her, she could give evidence against the others and get a lighter sentence.
Liz Prosser didn”t give a fuck about her husband but she was sad Carswell would never get to fuck her again.
Gordon Harper was arrested a few days later.
Karen was explaining to me what had gone on while I’d been incapacitated. “There’s no doubt now. The head of the fraud squad, Gavin McCall has given me chapter and verse. Prosser’s put Harper right in the frame and there’s so much coming out of all their enquiries, Gavin reckons it’ll keep him in work until he retires.
“They pulled Carswell in yesterday and she’s been charged. I tell you, there were a few happy faces in the office today.”
“Are you safe?”
“Of course I am and so are you.”
I was standing outside the court on a crutch, ankle in plaster when Marion Carswell arrived for the start of her court case.
“Western Sentinel, Ms. Carswell. Why did you do it?”
To my surprise she stopped and came over to me. There was no doubt she was a striking woman and now that Prosser had opened up, some of the details of their relationship were circulating in the media if not in the public press. She came very close to me, so close I could smell her.
“I know who you are, Ms Curzon.” She moved even closer. “Does Fleming fuck your arse? I would, if you’d like me to. Why don’t you give me a call when all this nonsense is over? We could have dinner. How is your ankle? I was so sorry when I read about the assault on you.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, dear. I was only sorry because it didn’t hurt you more.”
“Why did you go bent?”
“I don’t think anyone has proved I did go bent yet, have they? Does Fleming fuck your arse? Do you ever wonder if I fucked her? I fucked an awful lot you know and I’d love to fuck you.”
But the jury was convinced. Prosser was sent to prison for twelve years, Harper for ten and Carswell for fifteen. The trial had lasted three weeks and I’d hobbled to court for every day and reported on proceedings for the paper. When the jury came back and convicted I’d almost wept.
It was as I was leaving the court that something madede me stop. I looked around, wondering what had piqued my interest when a smell struck me. It was a smell of cigarette scented breath and I knew it was the man who had assaulted me. I made myself reveal nothing. I walked out of the court as well as my ankle allowed and immediately called Karen.
“He’s here.” Karen was, as always, was quick on the uptake.
“Can you get a pic?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good girl.”
“I’m on my way.”
A few moments later a man in a dark suit approached me and very discreetly flashed his Police identity card. “I’m Detective Sergeant Connors. DI Fleming asked me to look after you. Is the guy you mentioned still here?”
Without turning I told him he was behind me wearing a grey overcoat.
“Are you sure it’s the man who assaulted you?”
“Not sure but almost.”
“OK. DI Fleming said you’re sane and to be trusted so I’m going to keep an eye on him until she gets here. Your best course is to go to the café and wait for her. Did you get a picture of him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Send it to the DI now.” He was gone and I was careful not to follow him, even with my eyes. I made my way to the café and got myself an espresso and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long. Karen sat down in front of me and smiled. “Connors is a good guy, he’ll do what needs to be done.”
“I was scared.”
“Of course you were. If it’s him we”ll know who he is by the end of the day and what his connection is to Harper. You can’t identify him well enough for us to arrest him but we’ll do as much as we can. There’s no reason for Harper to threaten you again so you’re safe.
He was later identified as Harper’s older brother, Jack but no case was ever started against him.
“She actually asked me if you fuck my arse.”
It was later that day and Karen was sitting opposite me across my dining table, one breast nonchalantly peeping from the silk of her dressing gown.
“What did you say?”
“Karen!”
“Did you want to say yes? Did you want to tell her that I fuck your arse all the time whether you want it or not?”
“What are you like?”
“Come here.”
I stood and walked around the table and she patted her lap. I sat on it and slid my arm around her shoulders. We kissed and the fact I was naked apart from the fucking plaster cast and she partially dressed seemed perfectly natural. Her hand slid between my legs and stroked me.
“Did you want to say yes?”
“It’s none of her business.”
She gripped my chin gently and turned me to face her. “Do you want me to?”
“Do you want to?”
“If you don’t answer me I will charge you with wasting police time.”
“Yes.”
“Say it properly.”
“I want you to fuck my arse.”
“Say please.”
“Please, fuck my arse, Karen.”
“I might.”
“Do you want to?” I asked because aside from a finger she never had.
Her grin was from ear to ear. “I think we had better wait until your ankle’s better?”
“I need strong ankles to be fucked in the arse?”
“Perhaps not. Let’s see shall we?”
So we did and it proved that she did want to and that fully working ankles were not essential.
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