Tom Ballard | Latest News

Here’s the story I wrote for the Erotic Fan Fiction night at the 2012 Sydney Writers’ Festival.

Just so you know, other people’s stories were way grosser than mine.

I hope you like it.

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Slipper & Ashby: An Alleged Romance

[AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a fictional depiction of alleged events. In no way is this piece of writing designed to influence court proceedings or trivialize the serious nature of sexual harassment, though both of those things could definitely, definitely happen.

The following story has been run past lawyers, and by that I mean I did Legal Studies in Year 12.]

March 19^th, 2012

Christopher Pyne leant back in his chair, rested his peculiarly high-heeled boots up on the wooden desk, loosened his tie and treated himself to a long sip of his 2002 Petaluma Bridgewater Mill Rose, Adelaide’s finest. He was in the Speaker’s chambers, it was late on a Monday night and he was feeling particularly satisfied with himself after a big day of sitting in Parliament and being a shrill, smarmy twat. He’d managed the fuck out of that Opposition Business; he’d been a constant nuisance for the government all afternoon, like a mosquito hovering and buzzing in one’s face, or Sophie Mirabella existing.

Plus he’d got to wank off Bill Heffernan in the Parliamentary carpark, so all in all it had been a good day.

Not quite a “sucking off Malcolm Turnbull” kind of day, but perfectly pleasant nonetheless.

The Speaker’s aide, young James Ashby, sat across the desk from Pyne, a vodka cranberry in one hand, his iPhone displaying Grindr in the other. His days on Capital Hill were not quite so enjoyable.

“…I mean, the old queen is just an absolute nightmare to work for,” he was telling an only-vaguely-interested Christopher. “He’s always banging on about his wigs and Parliamentary protocol and not having enough CabCharges. He’s so fussy; honestly, it’s like working for Tracy Grimshaw.”

James Ashby was a homosexual. Unlike Christopher Pyne, who is married with four children, two boys and two girls, which is coincidentally the perfect cover story.

Pyne shrugged. “Look darling, I know it’s the pits, but you’ll just have to muddle through like we all have throughout our political careers. I wouldn’t be the lauded hero in the eyes of the Australian public I am today if for all these years I hadn’t brown-nosed like Molly Meldrum at a detention centre.

Life’s a cabaret, sweetheart; kick up those heels and start singing!”

Ashby drained his glass and sighed. “I guess so…I just wish he was a few years younger, then I wouldn’t mind his wandering hands so much!”

Christopher Pyne suddenly sat up attentively, as did his heterosexual penis. “Say again, darl?”

“Mmm? Oh, you know, old Slipper, doesn’t mind a bit of the old tappity tap. C’mon, Chrissie, you knew about this, it’s been common knowledge amongst parliamentarians since 2003 during the Howard era.”

“Yes, but now everything’s different.” Christopher took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. His hands now hidden from view, he subtly loosened his belt.

“How about you tell me what happened, James; tell me everything…”

***

“A-yoo-hoooooo! Mr. Aaaashby?”

Peter Slipper emerged from his hotel bedroom dressed in a burgundy robe, make-up liberally applied. The robe was worn open, its soft, even fabric a stark contrast to the dry and cracked crevices of his epidermis. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror and made some adjustments, including the discrete removal of his wedding ring.

Tonight was going to be special.

“Mr. Aaaaaaashby?!” he bellowed again. He checked his reflection once more, shoozhed his hair and pursed his lips. He hadn’t felt this confident since Philip Ruddock’s marriage went through that rough patch back in 2005.

Yessiree, he thought to himself, the Slipper is going to slip something in tonight.

“Er…in here, Mr. Slipper!” Ashby called from the shower, where he was lathering up his homosexual body. “I’ll be out in a tick!”

“Oh, James,” laughed Slipper heartily. “You don’t need to shut the door when you’re showering around me! We’re all adult men here, that’s for sure, nothing I haven’t seen before or wouldn’t pay to see again!”

He flung open the shower door, exposing the dripping wet aide in all his glory. Ashby was shocked by both the sudden cold and the sight before him.

They may have called him ‘Slipper the Rat’, but the Speaker was sure as fuck hung like a donkey.

“Oh, I see you’re admiring my…ceremonial mace?”

Ashby was briefly lost for words. “Er…yes, it’s, er…quite something.”

Taken aback yet quietly impressed, Ashby didn’t even notice Slipper starting to dry him with his own towel. He tried to change the subject.

“Did…did you put this Barry White music on?”

“Oh no, it must just be on shuffle,” Slipper said airily, thoroughly running the towel up and down Ashby’s legs. “You know how I love my tunes. I may be a Speaker, but I’m also a listener!”

Ashby laughed nervously and shivered as he felt Slipper’s touch on his inner thigh.

“Oh dear…I’d best be getting that paperwork ready for tomorrow morning – ”

“Shhh…” Slipper put his finger to Ashby’s lips. “Tonight’s not about paperwork, James. Tonight’s about you and me. Tonight’s about us making sweet, desperate Roman love. Tonight’s about using taxpayers’ hard-earned money to cover our lubricant and prophylactic expenses.

Tonight…is about the sexiest goddamn allegations the Federal Court is ever going to hear.”

James couldn’t resist. He closed his eyes as the Speaker’s mouth, once used to silence the Prime Minister, now wrapped itself around his stiffened manhood (though briefly it became less stiffened because he’d thought about the Prime Minister).

The lovemaking was convoluted and rickety. Employer and employee traded sexual favours like school children swapping Tazos. Slipper fondled Ashby’s earlobes; Ashby’s tongue massaged Slipper’s liverspots. Slipper ran his hands through Ashby’s frosted tips; Ashby pleasured Slipper’s orifices with the vigor of an overworked chimney sweep. There were groans and squirting liquids and chafing and wincing for hours on end until finally the two men had no choice but to pass motions of no confidence in their equipment.

Standing orders were officially suspended. It was over.

They lay in the bed together, panting for breath, giddy with the thrill of Speaker and Speaker-aide sex.

“You were incredible,” breathed Slipper. “Anyone would’ve thought I was paying you!”

And they laughed and laughed.

“What now, Peter?” asked James timidly. “Do you think…do you think there’s a place for us in this crazy, crazy world?”

“Who knows, James? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see and hope that our colleagues and the Australian judicial system will look past all their rules and their legislative obligations and realize that sometimes, just sometimes…a 62 year old high-ranking married government employee wants to fuck his aide’s homosexual body in order to get his rocks off without fear of censure or reprisal.

“It may not be in the constitution…but it sure as hell is in my heart.”

James Ashby smiled and Slipper gently kissed his forehead.

“Now,” he whispered, “how about you got get my wig? I want you to wear it whilst I turkey slap you into the next parliamentary sitting week.”

***

By this point, having heard all the sordid details, Christopher Pyne’s penis was throbbing harder than Kerry O’Brien’s head after election night 2007.

His eyes glistened, not only because he could foresee a dastard opportunity before him, but also because he was part lizard.

Ashby finished his story: “Yeah so that was all fine, but then he started getting all possessive and got super jealous of me all the time and kept asking me why I was hanging around with rich old white guys all the time and I was like ‘I work at Parliament House!’ and he was like ‘Whatever!’ and I was like ‘Psycho!’.”

Pyne banged his fist on the desk. “James – this is an outrage! What a completely dishonourable way for the Speaker of the House of Representatives to act!”

Ashby shrugged. “The sex wasn’t that bad…”

“NO, James! As Manager of Opposition/Other People’s Business and as the finest Member for Sturt there ever was, I pledge that I will do everything in my hoity toighty power to see that justice is served, which will conveniently also further destabilize this hung parliament and serve my own political ambitions!”

Pyne leapt to his feet, swept up in the passion of his own words, his proud erection exposed for the world to see.

“No one should have to suffer the indignity that you have suffered, James Ashby. Every employee of every organization is entitled to work free from the torments of harassment, regardless of their gender or position or sexual orientation. You have been dehumanized by the actions of your employer and you deserve better as a servant of these hallowed offices, as an Australian citizen and as a human being. With the full power of the Liberal National Coalition I will prosecute this case and support you in any way you need, for here it seems the principles that I hold most dear as a public servant are placed in jeopardy thanks to your trying ordeal.

“Now…be a dear and suck me off, will you; I’ve got blue balls something chronic.”

(ALLEGEDLY)

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