Plucky young reporter, Belle Star, has been working on the current affairs show, "In Your Backyard" for almost a year now. In that time, the most exciting thing she has covered has been a surfing cat. But her luck is about to change. Belle has a source. And that source has a story.
Belle peered into the window of the café and spotted the well-dressed man in the three-piece-suit sitting alone sipping coffee. The espresso cup looked like a child's toy in his giant hands.
Belle took a deep breath, centred herself and walked in.
"Judge Connelly" she said, holding out her hand.
"Please," he said, giving it a firm shake, "call me John."
Belle sat down. She pulled her phone out of her bag, set it to voice record, and laid it on the table, "You said you had a story for me."
The judge looked the young woman over. She played the role of seasoned reporter but the youth in her face and her cheap suit gave her away. He guessed she was about 20. Inexperienced, hungry, and looking to make a name for herself. Just the way he liked them.
He asked, "Have you heard of The Bump Club, Miss Star?"
Belle was shocked by the question, but retained her poker face, "It's a rumour. A swinger's group full of the town's richest and most influential people."
"What if I told you it was real?"
Belle leaned forward. The judge continued, "Originally, the group met for fun. Partner swapping, group sex, that kind of thing. Recently, though, there's been a shift. The club is now run primarily to settle old scores, work out grievances or pay-off debts."
"I don't understand."
"Many years ago, there was a business owner who, due to a severe gambling problem, was at risk of losing everything. His store. His house. His wife. The situation was dire. The bank could do nothing for him and all his lines of credit were tapped out. Late one night, as he considered his options, he got a text message. He was told to come to a particular house on a particular night and to bring his very young, very pretty wife with him. The business owner did as he was told and, when the night was over, his business was saved. All thanks to a group of anonymous benefactors and the diligent labour of his bride."
Belle looked confused, "labour?" she repeated.
"Oh, come now, Miss Star. Must I spell it out for you?"
Belle thought for a moment. The penny dropped. Her eyes widened, "and the wife consented to this?" she asked.
"Whether it was because she wanted to help her husband or get revenge on him, it's impossible to say." he said, " what I can say, is that the young woman engaged in her tasks willingly and," a little smirk appeared at the corners of his mouth, "enthusiastically."
Belle's mind raced. Here it was. A story with everything: sex, money, abuse of power. She leaned over the table and held the judge in her stare, "you have to get me into one of these parties."
"You'll need a password."
"And how do I get one of those?"
"I can give it to you, but you'll need to give me something in return."
Belle tensed. Here it comes, she thought. She'd felt the judge's eyes moving over her body from the minute she'd walked in.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"I've booked the Presidential Suite in the Carlton Plaza. In a moment, I will check in. In another 20 minutes, you will join me. Then, for the rest of the afternoon, I will make certain... requests of you. Every honoured request, will earn you one letter of the password."
