Murdoch greeted Drake, Sophie and Coulter outside his office and shook the doc’s hand vigorously, inviting them inside. Murdoch was a spry old coot in a turtleneck and thick glasses. He looked over Sophie and licked his lips, offering her a seat. Drake and Coulter sat, giving each other the eye.

“Doctor Drake, Ann tells me you would like to be a part of our organization,” the old man said, going behind his desk. There was a decanter of single malt scotch on a silver tray and glasses and he poured himself a stiff one. “Drink?” he said.

Drake leaned forward and said, “Not just yet.”

The old guy grinned the false teeth filling his mouth like dirty ice cubes.

“Ann?” he said.

“Yes,” she replied. “I could use one.”

“Of course you could,” he grinned and filled a second glass.

She had to lean past Drake to get the glass, making sure his secretary saw her put her tits in his face.

“So tell me, Drake, what are your ideas?” Murdoch said, after a healthy swig of his juice.

“I was thinking the organization could to do more promote women—white women. There are so many outlets for the other kinds that’s it’s a shame to see the interests of real Americans getting lost in the shuffle.”

Murdoch thought that one over. He’d already had a few and his mind was working like a CEO. “You mean like the so-called lifetime channel or that Oxygen channel. They purport to be about women, but what are they really pushing—lesbians, menopause, adultery. Isn’t that right, Ann?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely,” she said, yessing the boss.

“With so many famous young women recently murdered, I think its time for a white woman to step up and speak on behalf of those that have been silenced,” Drake bullshitted with the utmost sincerity.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Murdoch seconded. “How about you, Ann?”

“Absolutely,” she parroted herself. “Doctor Drake, shouldn’t your secretary be writing this down?”

“Sophia has total recall. She’ll get it down later.”

Murdoch was impressed and shot forward almost spilling his drink and exclaimed, “That’s amazing! Drake, you’re the man for me! Ann told me that you were brilliant and obviously your secretary has, eh, talents of her own,” he said with a leer as Sophie crossed her stocking leg and wagged her stiletto.

He wiped his chin and poured more liquor in his glass. Ann downed hers and got up and refilled her own.

“But who did you have in mind?” Murdoch said, getting back to the point.

Ann was slugging back a chin full and nearly choked when Drake placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “Isn’t it obvious?”

It wasn’t and Murdoch looked at Drake like the doc had lost it completely. It was widely rumored in media circles that Coulter was a man, rumors which were only partly discredited by the fact that she was a notorious slut. He’d have to trust Drake’s judgment but at the moment he wasn’t sure of his own. He looked to Miller, hoping she had Drake’s balls the way he gladly would’ve given his.

“What do you think, young lady?”

“Doctor Drake tells me that Miss Coulter is the smartest, most beautiful intellectual he has ever met in his life.” That was a load even Murdoch found hard to swallow, but for emphasis, Sophie looked over and said to the doc, “Isn’t that right, doctor?”

“Absolutely!” Drake proclaimed, convincing Murdoch that he was indeed a genius, if only because the idea was clearly insane.

“That’s that, then. How about that drink?” Murdoch insisted and Drake stood up to take the glass the guy was already filling to the brim.

Murdoch got to his feet and they clinked glasses to seal the agreement. Coulter, the world’s least likely feminist was set to become spokesperson for the white women America. It was as if Drake had read her mind. He’d been through her files and played her like a fiddle. He’d also cum in her mouth and she got to her feet along with them, raising her glass with the prospect that he’d soon do it again.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-14104349