Dirty Money

Demi was sitting at her diminutive desk, paralyzed with fear.

The, by far, ugliest man she'd ever seen had walked into the clinic, demanding to see her boss. Council business. They were in the office right now, but what had the receptionist so on edge was that he hadn't come alone.

She couldn't see his associates, but they were out there, watching from the gloom of night. She could feel each of their eyes on her like the sharp tip of a knife against her throat. They were hoping for a reason, any reason, to intervene.

So she waited, unmoving, wishing for the nightmare to end.

Inside Dr. Thorper's office, the repulsive man snooped about.

Garbage was piled everywhere. Stacks of decomposing noxious refuse lined the walls. Insects in swarms buzzed around rotting carcasses that hung from the ceiling, nauseating greenish fluid oozed from the cracks in the floor. As soon as he attempted to focus his sight on anything specific, the decor shifted, moved, and transformed into something further revolting.

"Cute trick." His voice was like he continuously cleared his throat. The doctor continued to listen wordlessly.

"There's been an upset in the mayoral elections." He phlegmily explained. "Underdog kept talkin' about gettin' rid of corruption, reforms. Pulled a last minute win."

"I don't follow politics," he lied, "but word is, he's serious 'bout it." The foul man took a moment to leer at the doctor. "Council's gettin' real skittish. And this sorta thing happens to be your area of expertise, so-"

Dr. Thorper stood up. "That is not how any of this works. It takes months of preparation, research, to build a proper psychological profile, to consider all possible outcomes, and to intervene organically before the subject reaches the limelight. No mayor would come consult at this clinic, that would attract too much attenti-"

"Council would consider it a favour." He smiled, revealing sparse yellowed teeth laying on a bed of festering gums.

You didn't get to refuse the Council a favour.

A soft knock interrupted the doctor, she had been fuming for the past hour.

"What is it Demi? Can you not see I am busy?"

The receptionist sauntered over in her skimpy outfit.

"Please let me help, doctor?" She batted her thick plastic lashes.

"You?" Dr. Thorper scoffed. "What use could you possibly be?"

"I can totes be super useful!" Demi enthused, emphasizing her cuteness. "I can plan, I can do recon, I can sneak you in." She mimed the actions as she said them to underline how suitable she was. "After all, it's my name on the clinic's sign."

The doctor's look made her promptly drop that point.

"I mean my old name. But puh-lease let me help?"

"Fine." The doctor indulged, begrudgingly. "Book us for the earliest event where we can interact with our target."

The fundraiser's sign-in table was located in the museum of fine art's colossal lounge. Wearing matching suits, one white with black tie and shoes, one black with white tie and shoes, the mayor and his husband were personally welcoming people in, shaking hands, exchanging niceties.

"So much for my plan to seduce him." Demi mumbled.

She was hanging on the doctor's arm, like a shiny colourful accessory. The receptionist had gone all out with a pink sequins dress that required constant adjustments to prevent it from riding up. Her shoes and makeup where glittery and on theme. Dr. Thorper had kept her stylish dark pantsuit, her jet black hair displaying her salient v-shaped fringe against her pale skin. The only difference from her usual attire were the pointy-toed high-heel boots and the deep dark red lipstick she chose to wear.

When it was their turn to check-in, the mayor remarked how nice it was to have another same-sex couple here. "Say, have you ever thought of joining the cause? We can always use more representation!" He was all smiles and charisma.

The infiltrating duo exchanged a pithy look, and the doctor replied: "I do my best to stay out of it."

"You know what they say." The mayor countered with the charm of a professional public speaker. "If you're not turned on to politics, politics will turn on you."

They paid for their tickets without further fuss. Demi felt a small twinge as several times her monthly wages exchanged hands, and so casually.

The auditorium had been set up with a slew of tables. On one side, a bar had been erected for the patrons' enjoyment. The high society was already busy hobnobbing and conferring amongst themselves.

Spotting the mayor's husband in a small group, Demi set out to try and get them an audience. She made her way with a spring in her step, enjoying the glitz and glam of the event. The doctor simply watched her march on.

"Hiya!" The receptionist introduced herself energetically. "This is a real nice event you're hosting!" The clique stopped its conversation and briefly assessed her.

"My friend and I were wondering if it would be possible to have a little chat with the mayor?" She did her best to appear charmingly non-threatening.

The white suited man rolled his eyes dramatically. "Honey, the mayor doesn't meet with prostitutes."

She stammered for a moment, attempting to justify her status.

"Bye bye now. The grown ups are talking." The man shooed her away, to his pack's great amusement.

Demi made her way back to their table, tail between her legs. She decided against reporting her failure, too embarrassed for it. Had she looked up, she would have noticed the darkening expression on the doctor's face, and the daggers she stared at the mayor's partner.

A server broke up the mood, bringing the first of seven delicious courses. Midway through, the receptionist was fully stuffed, whereas Dr. Thorper hadn't touched a thing.

On stage, the hosts were singing "Don't Go Breaking My Heart", in a sickeningly adorable way, as part of a series of love duets. The doctor looked in their direction with disdain. "Eugh. Talent shows."

"Speaking of." Demi chirped. "We're up soon!"

"What."

She gave her best innocent smile. "It was the only way to still get tickets this late. Don't worry, I made you some notes."

She handed over a series of cue cards to the doctor, who did not look amused.

When their turn came, the doctor introduced herself and her assistant with an effusive bow. They were going to display the amazing powers of the mind, and mesmerize the congregation with the mystical art of hypnosis.

What followed was a series of rather unimpressive parlour tricks. Expanding the intellect of her sexpot aide several times over, Dr. Thorper had her recite, at the audience's request, the first 30 digits of pi. Then, brought back to her middling brainpower, she struggled to define Pythagoras' theorem, figuring it somehow had to do with pie that's great.

Few in the crowd clapped, most busied themselves with their own affairs.

Vexed, Vivian proclaimed they hadn't even begun to explore hypnosis' true potential. She asked the spectators once more for suggestions, of barnyard animals this time. Demi got worried, this was not part of her script.

"Chicken!" Someone yelled from the back.

"Perhaps something less cliché?" The doctor answered, condescendingly.

"Pig!" Another voice chimed in.

"Now there is an interesting suggestion." She turned towards Demi, who appeared frozen, like a deer in the spotlights.

She could have tried to resist, but she knew that was pointless. Her brain was well attuned to the sweet caress of the doctor's influence. Not that the contrary could ever save her. The words flowed in and began to carve her mind, reshaping it to the doctor's will in the most delightful way.

"Interesting creatures they are." The hypnotist moved her hands slowly in front of her subject, mostly for the benefit of the gallery. "Not an ounce of shame. Simply obeying their biological imperatives. Abandoning themselves to the hunger. To fill that unending, growing, void inside. Just a stupid, empty, sow."

The words washed over Demi, absorbing them like a sponge. She looked down as her fingers melded together, dropping the microphone. Then, dizziness took over, she had been standing on her hind legs for a while, and decided to go back down to a more natural position. For the moment, she was still oink... Wait, did she just oink? Oink, oink. Oink! Oink...

Awkward applause awoke the disoriented assistant. She was on all fours, feeling nauseous. In front of her, a tall stack of plates looked like they had been licked clean. She stood up, unsteadily, to bow with the doctor, her stomach complaining of being overfull.

"Go fix yourself, you are a mess." Dr. Thorper whispered, not deigning to look at her.

She made her way to the ladies' room and exhaled slowly. She'd deserved that. She had been pushing things a bit too far.

The receptionist took stock of her situation. Her hair was dishevelled, her lipstick smeared, and even under the thick makeup, her reddened cheeks showed. She still felt the echoing arousal from the doctor's savage manipulation.

She set herself to the task at hand, at least she had access to a decent mirror, but the echoes refused to die down. A deep yearning grew in her loins. Hunger. Need.

"Oh no."

The corner of the bathroom's counter found its way against her wanton pussy. She was pressing, rubbing, pushing into it, lying to herself that it would help quieten the raging animalistic demands of her libido. The emptiness grew and grew, calling for any and all actions to be filled.

She heard the door to the nearby men's room open. She looked herself in the eyes, crazed with lust.

"Fuck."

The grey haired man never stood a chance. She barged in and threw herself at him, grabbing and pawing at his crotch, tearing down his pants. Despite his confusion, he found himself getting erect, and the greedy gilt wasted no time in mounting him.

Grunting and squealing on top of him, she relieved her rapacious appetite. The stunned man was clearly overtaken by events, nonetheless he was quickly spent. Scurrying out, still fixing his belt, he crossed path with a tall mustachioed individual who gave him a puzzled look.

Inside the bathroom, Demi looked at the newcomer ravenously.

More.

When the receptionist made it back to the table, the lacklustre performances had long concluded. She tried to apologize, but was swiftly stopped by a subtle hand motion.

"The bar, over there. Devise a diversion for me."

The doctor watched on as, little by little, a modest gathering built up.

The word was spreading around that the bimbo pig girl from the show was politically debating anyone up to the challenge, as if it were an arm wrestling competition. And she was winning! Quoting Marx, Locke, Machiavelli, and Aristotle. She also managed to drink her opponents under the table. As more people flocked, Dr. Thorper saw her opportunity.

She slunk towards the backstage door, guarded by a single gorilla shaped man.

"Sorry ma'am, can't come through here."

The doctor snapped her fingers. The imposing guard blinked once, stumbled back onto his chair, and promptly fell asleep.

She moved, shadow to shadow, avoiding servers and staffers, making her way to her objective.

The mayor was on his phone when he spotted one of the guests walking into the room. He told the caller he would get back to them, and recognized the woman from earlier.

"Did you decide you wanted to get involved?" He was slightly unsettled by her sudden appearance in the restricted area.

She cryptically answered: "It is time for change." Then she extended her hand towards him.

You do not get to become mayor of a major city without having shaken thousands of hands. His own reacted instinctively, reaching out to meet hers. Before he had a second to even think, she grabbed it, twisted it, and held it right to his face.

"Focus. Listen. Let go."

He fell limply into her arms.

She cooed reassuring drivel to his ear, kneading his mind into receptive dough for the thoughts she was about to implant. Short on time, she kept looking over her shoulder, someone could walk in any minute.

"The transfer of funds is a new and exhilarating prospect of your position." This newfound power was indeed alluring, intoxicating.

"These transactions arouse novel urges in you." Deep inside, unknown until now, growing.

"Exchanging money supplanting all your sexual appetites." Lusting after it, its effects, its consequences.

"Men, women, others, all that matters is banknotes changing hands." The idea turned him on beyond belief.

"Discovering these unique desires sends your libido soaring." Exploring, pursuing these interests with gusto.

"Paying for sex, your new orientation." His true nature.

For a moment, he forgot where he was. When he recovered, he saw the woman in front of him in a different light. He inquired if she might be interested in earning some quick bucks?

"You are better off seeking the help of a professional." She disappeared back in the dark corridor as the mayor grappled with his burgeoning cravings.

On their way out, Demi needed to be held to keep from toppling over drunkenly.

"Need a ride?" Asked the nearby cabbie.

"Just drive." The doctor replied dryly.

In the car, she complained to no one about the botched job. The target would certainly suffer a nervous breakdown before the year was through. Moreover, she did not even have time to enjoy a meal.

"I's had lotsa funn." Demi slurred, slumping over in a half hug.

The doctor would never admit it, but at the time, the warmth emanating off the body of the critter in her lap did feel comforting.

"What am I s'pposed to tell the Council?" The grotesque man was back in Dr. Thorper's office, reviewing the adventure. "How is any of this dealt with?"

"If the Council had wanted things 'dealt with'," the doctor chided, "they would have sent you. Use your head: send some escorts, record him, blackmail him. Once he is no longer useful, revealing videos of him with call girls  and gigolos will convince the public he faked his marriage to get elected. The ensuing scandal will ensure the destruction of his legacy."

The man's monstrous complexion was somehow worst when he was displeased.

"Now leave."

There was an upscale sedan with tinted windows waiting outside the mayor's door.

"Another late meeting?" His husband asked with a hint of sadness.

He did not know what caused the growing rift between them. Or why his lover so quickly abandoned the reforms he was so passionate about, and started to deal with the same corrupt organizations as the previous administration. Or why he refused to confide and seek support like he often did throughout the harsh campaign. Perhaps the reality of power weighed that heavily on him? What was certain, was that the lack of physical intimacy eroded what was left from their relationship a little more every day.

"Yes, don't wait up."

The driver took the mayor to a seedy motel on the outskirts of town. Without a word, the man at the front desk handed him a key.

In the room, Coco was ready for her client. She wore a new pair of shiny knee high boots over fishnets, her top showed equal cleavage and belly button, and her hair was teased like she expected a trip back to the 80s. She had been briefed on this john's peculiar pecuniary particularities.

Coming inside with a harried expression, the city's elected representative instantly spotted the cell phone propped up on the desk. It had no doubt been set to record the night's undertaking. At this point, there was already so much blackmail material against him out there, he just didn't care. Then he noticed his partner for the night was a woman this time. Whatever, as long as she took cash.

"How much?" He asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

"How much did ya bring?" The escort saucily countered.

Out of his pocket, the mayor fished out a wad of folded up bills.

"That's for my booking fee." She plucked the first fifty out of the pile. "The rest", she motioned to her body, "will cost ya extra."

She took the initiative. "For another fifty, I'll get real close to ya." He handed her the requested note, and she moved her back against him, rubbing up and down. His blood was rising. She was finally scratching the insatiable itch that bothered him everywhere he went.

"Toss me a hunny, and I'll take off ya pants." Once he obliged, the call girl made a show of sexily undoing his belt to get at his package. He was standing at attention, rock hard. He did wish she would skip the raunchy act, the transaction was all that interested him.

"One more C and I'll make ya feel real good." She reached for his erect cock, but he intercepted her wrist and shook his head. He still put the hundred in her hand.

She had enough experience to roll with anything, shrugged it off, and jumped on the bed. "Two Cs and you can watch."

The charade kept going for a while. She stated a price, he paid it faster and fiercer each time. He needed this. He was getting swept up in the moment, at last forgetting his woes. She played along, it was far from her weirdest encounter, yet one of the more lucrative ones. She could tell he was approaching his limit.

She ended up laying on the bed, covered in bills of various denominations, squealing with fake lewdness like a consummate professional. From a distance, he threw his last note at her and let out a loud grunt, cumming explosively all over the prostitute, and the pile of money.

He summarily sat on the side of the bed, holding his head between his hands, dejected.

She assembled her payment quietly, retrieved her phone, and minced her way out of the door. Before leaving, she said: "Thank ya Mr. mayor. I voted for ya." With a kiss.

He did not know how much longer he could keep doing this.

Deep in the bowels of the city's premiere high-rise, the Council gathered for its exclusive meeting. The room's decor was opulent, the walls covered in paintings long thought lost, the furniture masterfully crafted. Any of which would have made an antiquarian's eyes pop out of their skull.

An eclectic host of characters had gathered for the dark cabal. Their shadowy looks as varied as their mysterious backgrounds. On the docket tonight, the topic of the mayoral situation.

An emaciated ashen man took charge of the proceedings with an aristocratic tone.

"To my mind, it would appear the state of affairs was resolved most advantageously." He slowly looked all those present in the eyes. "I am keenly aware there are those amongst you who abhor our little doctor's modus operandi. However, I motion we extend an invitation to this outstanding member of our society. While allowing her to participate would be altogether too rash, we might find benefit in her regular attendance to our formal events. All in favour?"

Most of the hands around the table rose. It could be dangerous, even for attendees, to oppose the more influential members. Notably though, the hideous man did not raise his.

"Then it is decided. May she be welcomed within our fold."