When Brenna came back to herself, leaning against the wall with Collin panting above her, she reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers. “I love you so very, very much,” she breathed and kissed him.
They managed to get undressed before they reached the bed. When he finally slept, the first light of dawn showed through the window. She held him close and stroked his hair.
~~~
Brenna O’Donnell, PhD, heiress, telepath and succubus, was the newest employee of MacIntyre and Associates, a lobbying firm that was a wholly-owned subsidiary of O’Donnell Group, the company owned by Brenna’s grandfather. As an organization staffed entirely with telepaths, it had a distinct advantage over its competitors and its targets. A secret minority that felt itself under a millennia-long siege, the telepaths’ ethics were those of a society under assault. The Clans were only marginally a part of the larger societies they lived in. They knew from bitter history that head-blind normal humans would massacre them without a bit of regret should the Clans’ existence be discovered.
With their extraordinarily long lives, the people of the Clans remembered times when the thin veneer of human civilization had been washed away by irrational fear. Brenna knew a man whose mother, a healer who had never harmed anyone, had been burned at the stake in nineteenth century Ireland. No one inside the Clans had ever suggested revealing themselves to the outside world.
As a result, although Clan O’Donnell generally tried to be good citizens and good neighbors, they didn’t flinch from reading people’s minds, influencing their decisions and actions, and even occasionally dominating someone and compelling them to do the telepaths’ will. And the best manipulators were the succubi. Their natural predatory instincts served the Clan well. Their tactics included seducing a congressman and draining his life energy to prevent him from showing up for a crucial vote, seducing him to influence his support for or against legislation, or using a hidden camera to blackmail him.
MacIntyre’s practice included not only furthering the fortunes and ideologies of O’Donnell, but the objectives of paying clients. They managed political campaigns, schmoozed campaign contributors, gathered and sold political and business intelligence, and occasionally engaged in political sabotage. They primarily worked for liberal and progressive causes, but didn’t let shortsighted ethical qualms get in their way. If the other side used some rather questionable methods, MacIntyre could do it better. After all, they were all telepaths.
Brenna was just the kind of woman Washington DC loved, or at least the men did. With thick black hair cascading to her waist, sapphire-blue eyes in a high-cheekboned classically beautiful face and a voluptuous wasp-waisted figure, Brenna often dressed the part of a femme fatale. At twenty-three, and looking younger, she could don a look of wide-eyed naïve innocence, the kind of young woman who attracted powerful men. Brenna, however, had a very different view of such men than the interns who usually filled the role of a sweet young thing in Washington.
Karen and Cindy Nelson had explained the expectations of the job to Brenna.
“We use the Talents of Succubi to influence people, especially men, to get them to do what we want them to,” Cindy said. “Every lobbying firm, foreign government and corporation uses whatever they can, including sex, to influence Congress and powerful regulators. Some are more blatant about it.”
“Brenna,” Karen said, “I’ll be asking you to seduce, influence, manipulate and blackmail people. It’s pretty ugly sometimes, but the stakes are very high. My ethics and morals are very situational, and I truly don’t give a damn about the souls of these humans. All of them mortgaged their souls a long time ago. Every one of them has sold himself many times over.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Brenna said. “I’m not under any illusions as to how you use succubi.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t mind being a prostitute, especially if the payoff is to keep us safe.”
“It’s not always that easy,” Karen said. “Some of what we do, especially for clients, is straight-out dirty tricks. Compromising and blackmailing someone are part of the paid services we offer.”
Brenna realized they were suspicious of her ability to do the job. Growing up in the head-blind world had taught her, to their way of thinking, some strange and unrealistic ethics.
“I understand that,” Brenna told them. “I’m really not as dumb and naïve as you seem to think. I understood what this job entailed before I ever talked to you about it. I mean, really, what else would you want a succubus for? Taking notes? There are a lot of pretty women you could use if all you wanted was someone who looked good.”
She saw Cindy and Karen relax, sitting back in their chairs.
“When I was up on the Hill last fall looking for Cindy’s kidnappers,” Brenna said, “I identified seven succubi working up there, none of them ours. I don’t delude myself that they’re being choir girls. People have repeatedly tried to kill me. It took my Protectors a long time to pound it through my thick head, but I finally got the message. We’re engaged in a war. I get it. And if I’m going to lead the Clans someday, I need to understand how the game is played. So blow the whistle. Let’s play.”
~~~
CHAPTER 2
A whore should be judged by the same criteria as other professionals offering services for pay--such as dentists, lawyers, hairdressers, physicians, plumbers, etc. Is she professionally competent? Does she give good measure? Is she honest with her clients? It is possible that the percentage of honest and competent whores is higher than that of plumbers and much higher than that of lawyers. And enormously higher than that of professors. – Robert A. Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long
Karen assigned Brenna to shepherding a trade treaty through Senate hearings and a final vote on the floor. In the world of Washington politics, it was a small sideshow, but Callista O’Donnell, Brenna’s Aunt Callie and President of the Clan’s business interests, had targeted it as a major strategic initiative for the O’Donnell Group. It could provide an entry into South American markets as well as an entry into the government of Ecuador. Powerful factions in control of the Ecuadorian government wanted it and came to MacIntyre to help get the deal done.
“It’s a case where a client wants something that O’Donnell also wants,” Karen told her. “They’re willing to pay for your time, and we can throw Irina in there also. We already have her working as an interpreter on the project.”
“How long does it usually take for something like this?” Brenna asked.
“This one has been in the works for about three years,” Karen replied. “You should be able to get it out of committee in the next month, and if you play it right, we might be able to sneak it onto the floor for a vote this fall.”
Dismayed, Brenna stared at her, “I thought you said this was a quick and easy one.”
“It is, my dear. We’re in the final stretch now. We have several high-ranking officials of the Ecuadorian government in town. They’re wining and dining senators and their staffs like crazy. The major thing you need to do is keep track of everything. Keep track of the votes, and take care of any votes that might stray or need extra convincing. And take very good care of our clients and their nerves. Got it?”
“Sure, clear as mud. Are you my hand holder on this one or Cindy?”
“I am, but use Irina. Her Spanish should help a lot. If she isn’t around and they’re speaking Spanish, eavesdrop like crazy. There’s a fairly strong consortium of Clans in South America, and the Vargas Clan in Ecuador is one of the most powerful. They’ve always loosely aligned themselves with the Center for a Better World, but the word is that Vargas wants this deal to go through. So you never know exactly who you might be dealing with on this one. The alliances might be a bit confused.”
“Rebecca’s fluent in Spanish,” Brenna said.
“That’s good to know. It would give us a little more flexibility with Irina’s time. But use Irina for now. First thing you need to do is go over to the House and talk with Margaret Townsend, Repre
sentative from Illinois. Find out what she wants to swing the junior senator from her state. Tell her I sent you.”
Over the next couple of weeks, Brenna came to know Rep. Townsend rather well, and in spite of herself, found she liked the affable, pretty congresswoman.
“Brenna,” Representative Townsend said on their first meeting, “Senator Johnson won’t be a problem. I doubt he cares very much, but he could use some help on a bill he introduced that’s going nowhere in committee. Give him some help there and he’ll love you. He’s also a little short on campaign contributions, but of course, your Ecuadorian clients can’t contribute to political campaigns.”
O’Donnell, however, could.
~~~
Brenna contacted one of the senator’s aides and asked for a meeting. She explained very frankly the advantages that O’Donnell and other American manufacturers, including several companies in the senator’s home state, would gain from the trade legislation passing.
Then she produced a check made out to the senator’s campaign fund.
A quick visit to another senator’s office allowed her to read his mind as he walked out the door. It turned out he was devoted to his wife, but his chief aide liked the intimate company of young women. Brenna wasn’t really his type, though. It was enough to give a girl a complex. Rummaging around in his mind, she discovered he had plans to go to dinner with a young intern that evening. A spear thread to Irina sent her to show up at the restaurant, and a spear thread to another McIntyre operative sent him to intercept the intern.
Of course, Brenna could seduce any man with the barest trace of a libido, but this was an assignment that required subtlety. If he had a fetish for tiny blondes, she’d give him a tiny blonde.
Irina Moore was a British-Russian succubus that Brenna and Siobhan O’Conner had discovered in New York the previous year. Barely over five feet tall with an hour-glass figure and the face of an angel, Irina was a natural golden blonde. At twenty-two, she didn’t look a day over seventeen and could play the wide-eyed intern without any effort at all. In addition to her enthusiastic enjoyment of men, her other value to the Clan was her facility with languages. Irina spoke eight languages fluently and added a language a year to her repertoire.
Irina showed up at the restaurant and hung around looking distressed.
Approaching the maître d’, she asked, “Is there a man, about five-foot-ten, forty-five years old, short brown hair and hazel eyes waiting for someone?”
Checking his list, he replied, “Yes, there is. Please follow me.” Irina nodded and she was shown to the man’s table. Confusion and embarrassment followed. He was the wrong man, she was the wrong young woman, but it seemed both of them had been stood up. After some exposure to her Glam and Influence, he asked her to stay and have dinner with him.
As much as Irina would have liked to drain him that evening, she played coy and wrangled a Friday night invitation, which she blushingly accepted. She sent a thought burst to Brenna at the end of the evening that she’d reeled him in. Brenna was impressed.
Brenna, Irina told her on a mental thread, I may be new to the Clan, but I’m not new to being a succubus. I’ve been playing with men since I was thirteen. Dirty old men who like young girls are my bread and butter. The SOB never even asked my age. Did you know the intern he was meeting is only nineteen? Tell Karen that after Friday he’ll be mine forever. If she wants him to bark like a dog on the National Mall, she’s got it.
~~~
“Irina, I was talking to Antonia, and she said there’s a service she uses to schedule dates here in DC,” Brenna said. The two women were having a drink at a trendy bar near the Capitol.
“Yeah, I told you about that months ago. Why, are you finally interested?”
“It’s starting to sound more attractive. Going to bars and hunting in hotels is just so sleazy.”
“You think? My, Brenna, what a revelation,” Irina said, rolling her eyes.
“Okay, you can skip the sarcasm. Geez, I thought you were supposed to be submissive.”
“Submissive, yes. Dumb, no.”
“Got it.” Brenna clinked her glass against Irina’s. “So tell me about the dates you’ve had in New York.”
“The agency sets up the date. Usually the men are late thirties to mid-sixties, successful, wealthy and sophisticated. I usually meet them at a restaurant, we have a nice dinner, then we go to the theater, the symphony, a fancy gallery opening, a charity event, something like that. Then I call the agency and tell them I’ve completed my assignment. The client affirms that, and the contract is finished. All perfectly legal. Then I go home with them, shag them and usually they give me a present when I leave,” Irina held up her wrist, showing Brenna a very fancy new watch. “All completely legal. I don’t ever ask for money. There’s no transaction involved.”
Irina smiled. “The agency takes twenty-five percent and forwards the rest to a bank account I set up. I got a 1099 at the end of the year and declared it on my tax return. The beauty is, I have an enjoyable time with someone who’s interesting, can carry on a conversation, and treats me with respect, treats me like a lady. I’m getting a lot of return business, too. When was the last time you had a date like that?”
“The last time Collin was in town. The problem is when he’s not around. That’s what got me to thinking about it. Antonia’s out with the head of a museum tonight. Nice dinner, tickets to the Kennedy Center, and she’ll get laid. You and I will have a good time together, but we won’t get a Glow.”
“Yeah, we could catch a Glow, but that’s all we’d get. Cheap sex.”
Brenna considered this. “So what do we need to do?”
The next day Brenna found herself at the agency with Irina. They were told to bring six outfits, from an evening gown to casual dress appropriate for the racetrack or a football game. A photographer took pictures of them in each outfit, and they were given a questionnaire. The last part of the form was a long checklist of sexual activities. Mark what you like, what you don’t like, things you’re willing to try. She filled it out, amazed at some of the items listed.
“People actually like that?” she asked.
Irina laughed and nodded.
“That’s kind of sick,” Brenna said. “I can’t imagine how that could be pleasurable.”
The woman who would be working with them helped them to set up a link from their phones to her computer so she had access to their schedules. Being out of town so much, this was a necessity. They both were pretty good at keeping their schedules up-to-date and checking them, but she emphasized they needed to be religious about it. Brenna reflected that would make Karen MacIntyre happy.
The price they set was five thousand dollars for an evening, twenty-five thousand for a whole weekend, from Friday evening at six through Sunday midnight. Irina said those were the same rates she had at the agency in New York. It seemed outrageous to Brenna.
She received her first call the next day. A man wanted her to join him for dinner and then accompany him to a reception. Her date would be forty-four, black, and an entrepreneur. He was hoping to further his business interests at a reception being held at the Ugandan embassy. She accepted.
She arrived at one of Washington’s finest restaurants wearing a sleeveless cream sheath gown with a pleated bodice, the V terminating between her breastbone and navel. The front slit ended four inches above her knees. Sexy, but somewhat conservative.
Lionel Collins greeted her warmly and ordered expensive wine, encouraging her to try one of their lobster dishes. Over dinner, after scanning his health and assuring herself he wouldn’t die on her that evening, she learned that he had grown up in New York, earned a Master’s degree in business from Columbia, and made his first fortune on Wall Street. Striking out on his own, he traveled regularly to Africa and Europe on business. He was well spoken, knowledgeable, told funny stories and treated her as if she mattered. He was impressed by her job as a lobbyist and asked if she’d brought her business cards.
; “Well, I have a few in my purse, but I’m here to accompany you, not to compete with you for business.”
“We don’t compete, Brenna. And if you engage a client and they’re pleased, then hopefully they’ll remember who introduced you to them. This is a back-scratching town, my dear. Don’t ever miss a chance to get yours scratched.”
She smiled back at him, “You know, Lionel, I’m really glad you gave me a call. I can’t remember when I’ve met a finer gentleman. It’s rather rare in this town.”
He laughed, then reached across the table and took her hand. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”
She also had cards given to her by the agency. Those simply said “Brenna” with the agency’s phone number.
She stood out at the reception more than usual. At least her hair was black. But the attention she garnered was a good thing. She handed out a dozen of her MacIntyre cards, three to people who talked to her about her work on the Ecuadorian trade deal. She also handed out three of her personal cards, one to a Tanzanian diplomat, one to a Norwegian businessman, and one to a lobbyist who asked if she would be interested in occasionally entertaining clients of his. If he called, it would be a gold mine. She hoped he didn’t find out she worked for a competing firm. All three of them were introduced to her by Lionel, and he prompted her to give them her ‘other card’.
They went for drinks, coffee and dessert after the reception, then he took her to his townhouse. “When you’re ready to leave, my man will take you home,” he told her.
She called the agency, then handed him the phone. When he hung up, she smiled and placed her hands on his chest. He bent to kiss her.
Succubus Rising, An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga) Page 2