by Imani King
“Yes, I would like to know,” she says. “Of course! Every little detail. And every not-so-little detail too, I hope! But start at the beginning. What's his name, anyway? I don't want to keep calling him Loverboy.”
“Well,” I stall, “That's something I'd like to know,” I laugh. “Yeah, I can’t really answer that.”
“You went home with him and you don't even know his name?” I can practically hear her jaw hitting the floor through the phone.
“Yup,” I smile. “You were the first person to tell me that it didn't mean anything, so why does knowing his name matter anyhow? Keep it meaningless, keep it anonymous, you know?”
“Wow girl, you were doing it up right!” She sounds sincerely impressed.
“Yeah, well you know I wanted someone to celebrate with. Something just for me for once.” I play with that one strand of hair that never stays in place, and it pops back as soon as I let it go.
“You deserve it—that's for sure. As long as he treated you right,” she cautions. Her voice has lost the laugh now, and I do appreciate it. But nothing to worry about really.
“Actually, yeah, pretty well! He was respectful, you know, didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to, and did a hell of a lot of things I did.”
She snorts in my ear. “How did you leave things?” she asks when she’s finished.
“If you must know,” I giggle, “I snuck out while he was still sleeping!”
“That is cold!” She's laughing out loud now too. “Well, you know you gotta hold out for a lawyer anyhow. They're the only ones that can understand us.”
“That's your thing,” I tell her. “I'm happy as long as he has a decent job. But this is not like that. This is my little treat just for me before I start my new high-pressure job at the firm.”
“You'll figure it out in time,” she admonishes me. “Mark my words, a good lawyer boyfriend, then husband, is what you need.”
“Ugh, I am around lawyers all day, I don't need one in my bed too!” It’s true. Who needs to take all that work home with you?
“Neither do you need one of those drifters like you had last night.”
“Well that may be true, but I should mention he is the absolute furthest thing from a drifter. His place was the nicest apartment I've ever been in.” I want to go into detail, but she interrupts me.
“No way! That tattooed dude is rich?” Sandra's voice goes up a full octave. “He’s got money?”
“Super rich,” I answer. “Tons, I’d say.”
“Well, maybe I spoke too soon,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe you need him as your sugar daddy. Maybe you should have exchanged names and numbers so that you could fuck him on a regular basis! Maybe you missed out, girl! He might be just what you're missing in your life!” Then she changes the subject. “What do you have on today? It's your first day, right?”
“Yep, my first day. Nothing too demanding, just meeting the new client. He's some football jock apparently. His girlfriend is claiming domestic abuse,” I say. “Should be pretty cut and dried. He's probably guilty though. I guess we’ll see.”
“Hey, now, aren't you supposed to be impartial?”
“I guess not, as we're representing him,” I say. “I’m supposed to be on his side, I suppose. Get the guy off, charges dropped, plea bargain, or the shortest sentence we can, guilty or no. Still, I doubt that a football jock wasn’t kicking around his chick on the side. But yeah, don't worry, I won't let my personal biases get in the way. Nor my hangover.”
“You're so pro,” she teases me. “Odell Williams. Partner!”
“Yeah right.” I smile again. “But hey! How was your night, did you leave with the guy you were talking to? Did anything happen?”
“Nah, he gave me his number but I don't think I'll follow up—I'm—”
“Holding out for a lawyer,” we both finish together. “All right girl,” I continue. “Typical Sandra. Oh no, I’m going to be late! I’m gotta finish getting ready for work. I have to look my best! I'll talk to you later, all right sweetie?”
“Good luck!” she calls out. She makes some kissy sounds before hanging up. “You're gonna do great! I know you will!”
“Thanks, babe!” I say. “Barring anything weird happening!” I add, but she's already gone.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and there's still a bit of the sex flush going on. My lips are looking a bit more full and luscious this morning and I can see his stubble left a little redness on my chin, but it’s nothing a bit more makeup can't hide.
There's also a flutter in my tummy that I'm going to have to admit comes from the thought of that hot stranger’s hands all over me. Well, that and the few drinks I had last night coming back to bite me.
But that's it, from now on, everything is serious. No more playing around, picking up guys at bars. All work all the time. “You've had your fun,” I say sternly to myself before applying one more coat of lipstick to my bee-stung lips.
5
Gryphon
To think I'm waiting on this goddamned lawyer. I hate lawyers. If only I didn't have to go through this shit. It’s just infuriating. I never did anything to Sabrina, she's just a gold-digging whore. I can feel my fingers curling into fists just thinking about it. I'd like to knock her block off, but I would never hit a woman, not in a million years. It's just not the way I was made. Despite everything. I can’t wait until my next game, just to work off all this stress by giving my all on the field. Sometimes it’s the only thing that can give me peace.
Sabrina’s just trying to ruin me. It's Miss Emory all over again, and all the female authority figures in my life, for that matter. My own mother was a mess, my foster mom was no picnic, and all my teachers seemed to have it out for me. To top it off, now it seems I can't even go out with a girlfriend without something really goddamn bad happening.
I guess that the only people I can trust are my real true friends from college ball. The ones I made at Brooks University. That's when I really became myself, at college in Cali. If I hadn't had those boys to get me on track and keep me there, I'd have probably ended up in jail, or worse—dead, on drugs or a criminal. I remember when Jackson pulled me out of a party one time and made me go home and sleep before a game. I guess I was going nuts, and he was like, “Eyes on the prize, Gryphon. Don’t forget it.” And I learned. So instead of becoming a complete degenerate, I'm a football player, and one of the best in the world if I do say so myself. I thought my success would keep me safe, but it turns out that instead, it makes me a target now. A prized shining key for all the gold-digging bitches in the world to do their best to win me, then take me down and steal every bloody thing I have fought to earn.
It’s really too bad all women aren't like that girl from last night. Beautiful, free, and ready to fuck, over and over again. Sure, she was clearly not interested in anything more from me but a few good times together and to ride my dick until it explodes inside her, and that’s fine by me. I better not think too much about last night, or I'll get hard all over again. I have to meet this lawyer, and you know she's going to be a serious ball-buster. Probably will have her hair pulled back in a crazy severe bun, with glasses and a pantsuit. I wonder if I could charm a woman like that, since I want her firmly on my side. No harm in trying I guess. I check my look in the glass reflection and I know that I’m looking good. Hopefully the disguise of this expensive suit will make things go my way in the meeting.
I grab a quick Americano from the espresso bar in the lobby. I'll need it to get through this stupid meeting, after getting practically no sleep. My eyes are already practically closing as it is. If I weren't so screwed by Sabrina I'd be snoozing right now, resting up for the game tonight, rather than meeting a high-priced lawyer. I'll probably play like shit now thanks to everything Sabrina’s done to me. Part of it’s my own doing of course. I wouldn’t give up fucking a beautiful girl all night for a little sleepiness, though in the back of my head, comes Jackson’s voice—“Eyes on the prize.”
But the prize isn’t always football. I really should have gotten that hot chick's number, and we could just screw when we want to and leave it until the next time. Perfect arrangement.
What the fuck, I'll have another espresso.
“Can I help you sir?” says a well-modulated voice.
I look up and it's a woman in a sleek suit. Her hair is curled just so, and her makeup is perfect. She shares my fling’s lovely dark skin, but otherwise she’s an imitation, as well made up as she is. I catch her sneaking a look at me, at my body. We’re both sizing each other up.
“Oh thanks very much. I’m just waiting for a meeting,” I tell her. “Would you like an espresso?”
She laughs.
“No thank you, I’ve had enough coffee for today. You’re Gryphon James?” she asks and I nod. “Very good sir. Are you comfortable? Do you have everything you need? Your lawyer, Ms. Odell Williams, should be here any moment.”
What kind of crazy name is Odell, I wonder? But I guess I’m not one to talk. I’m pretty sure that Gryphon is the name of a mythical creature. But then again, looking at my biceps, I am pretty mythical.
“I hope so,” I tell her, trying not to sound too pissed off. “As important as this is, I don’t have all day to wait. I have to get to the stadium before the game, warm up, suit up, all that.”
“Of course,” she says. “Oh look, here she is now.”
Looking up, my eyes track beautiful heels, long, stockinged legs, a tight skirt that showcases muscular, thick thighs, and one of those little jackets that nips in perfectly at the waist. Her blouse reveals just the right amount of cleavage, and after lingering there for a moment, I face her, and I realize. It's ... it’s the woman from last night, the gorgeous, nameless woman whose every opening I had my tongue in. I look past her, desperately. Is this some kind of a joke? She can’t be my lawyer—she has to be here for someone else, she might be suing someone, anything. But she flinches too. Her eyes grow as wide as saucers; her mouth opens into an O not unlike how it was when she came all over my dick.
This has got to be some kind of trick. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?
“Gryphon James, this is Odell Williams, the associate who will be handling your case. Odell, this is Gryphon,” says the secretary. “Odell, Mr. James doesn’t have a lot of time, so I’ll take you both to the meeting room right away, if that’s all right.”
“Certainly,” she finally chokes out, her voice a lot smaller than it sounded when she was screaming, “Harder!”
“Glad you could make it,” I grunt finally. Otherwise, I’m speechless. The fight or flight reaction is going through my body. I almost want to blitz everyone and run out, but that wouldn’t bode too well for my case now, would it? I get up and sway from one foot to the other instead, avoiding her eyes.
This is not how I expected the morning to go.
Understatement of the year.
She runs her little pink tongue over those luscious lips, and sticks her hand out. “It's a great pleasure to meet you, Gryphon,” she says, in what seems like an unusually bright voice compared to how she was talking last night, whispering in the alley, screaming as she rode my dick, or moaning in my ear. I guess it’s her version of pulling herself together. The slight emphasis on my name is the only betrayal of the fact that she's met me before, and one that only I'd ever notice.
“Hello, Miss Williams,” I say. My voice is flatter than a pancake. Two can play this game.
Goddammit. How the hell did this happen? Is it just a coincidence, or was she spying on me? But why? Trying to gather evidence before the case? She could have easily targeted me and picked me up—it’s not like I’m not the most famous footballer in Seattle. I rack my brain trying to think of what I might have told her last night, but I don't feel like I let anything slip to her about the case. Mostly we used our mouths for kissing, sucking and moaning—and kept the talking to a minimum. Anyway, I tell myself, it shouldn't matter what I said or who she is—despite Sabrina's ridiculous claims, I'm not guilty, and this lawyer is here to represent me. She works for me. Gryphon James, starting quarterback for Seattle.
I have to admit it though, I'm completely thrown.
“The other partners are waiting for you in the conference room,” says the receptionist as she leads us through the bright, airy lobby. I motion for Odell to go ahead of me in order to seem polite, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t looking forward to checking out her sweet ass in that tight suit and those high heels that make it pop just so. I’ll use the chance to collect myself, hopefully even before she can. But it is distracting watching her walk. Damn, the way her body moves. So smooth. She must have been a dancer in some former life. Still, my mind is left reeling just thinking that this is the very woman who is going to be my lawyer during the most important moment of my life, and yet I can describe how she tastes.
What is with women? First Sabrina fucking with me and now this lawyer is playing with my mind. What if Sabrina paid her off? Odell’s muscles move under the thin fabric of her skirt and suddenly all I want to do is stroke the curve of her ass that I got to know so well last night. But then I realize she's glaring at me in our reflection in the mirrored wall of the lobby. She shakes her head, sharply but almost imperceptibly, but it has the opposite effect she intended. I don’t like it when women tell me what to do, and I can't suppress the wicked smile from growing on my face. Fuck it. If a game is what she wanted, then she'll find out she's met the best player of them all.
I reach out and pinch her ass surreptitiously just as she enters the conference room. She does a little skip, but nobody saw me do anything.
“Hello, Gryphon,” says an older man, getting up to shake my hand. His grip is firm, but I’m careful because I could crush him. “Welcome to Smith Williams Smith. We're absolutely delighted to take on your case. I see you've met our new partner, Odell Williams.” He nods to Odell and I take the opportunity to check her out again, drinking in her beautiful brown skin and flashing angry dark chocolate eyes. “She’ll be handling your case. She’s one of the brightest and best young lawyers in the business! You guys had a chance to introduce yourselves in the lobby I trust?”
“Why yes, we certainly have introduced ourselves.” I leer at Odell who is now giving me a nasty look but I can’t help it. She’s the one who didn’t want to tell each other our names. Was that because she figured I might know she was my lawyer if we did? The older gentleman seems a bit taken aback, looking from one of us to the other slowly before continuing, smooth as silk. Clearly a pro.
“I'm Carlton Smith, a senior partner here,” he resumes in a mild tone. “Now why don't you tell us about this terribly unfortunate business that's brought you to us. Just say everything in your own words, and don’t leave anything out. Remember, in this room, and in all communications with your lawyers, you are covered by attorney client privilege, so everything you say here is confidential.” I wonder if the way Odell looks when she sucks my cock is also covered? I think as he’s talking. “Also, don’t forget that we are here to help you in any way we possibly can. We have a great team here at Smith Williams Smith, and we are committed to minimizing any discomfort brought on you by this charge you've found yourself facing.” He turns toward Odell who is still glaring at me. “Isn't that right, Odell,” he says pointedly, staring at her. “We’re here for Mr. James and will help him any way we can?”
“Of course, Carlton, I couldn't agree more,” Odell tries to smoothly fill in the silence, but I can tell that she is fuming inside, and not just from the shade she's throwing whenever the old dude isn't looking her way. She is royally pissed. But so am I. She doesn’t have a leg to stand on here. I’m the famous one. I didn’t target her.
Carlton pulls out his heavy chair, gestures to all of us and we sit. “Odell, tell me—how long have you been with the firm?” I ask, shooting her a look.
“Why do you ask?” she snaps back. “Long enough.”
“You just seem so young. I wouldn't have pe
gged you for a lawyer from just laying eyes on you for the first time.” One side of my mouth curls up, and she looks away.
“Odell here graduated summa cum laude from one of the best law schools in the country,” Carlton says magnanimously. “We're very lucky to have her as a new partner in our firm. She’s high in demand, this one! You’ll be very happy with her I’m certain.”
“I bet.” I run my fingers through my hair and lean back. I'm going to make her suffer. “And do you have a lot of experience with this kind of charge?”
“Do you?” she immediately retaliates. This is going to be fun.
“Odell,” Carlton says quietly, holding his hand out. She glares at him now but continues to speak.
“Mr. James,” she says, voice as ominous as a growl, “I can assure you that I will give my all to this case, as long as you can manage to be open and honest with me in every way.” She punctuates open and honest by annunciating them too strongly. “I need to know every detail of what you went through with Sabrina Forbes.”
Is she jealous? “Hey, I'm no liar,” I spit back. “What you see is what you get with me. I don’t sneak up on people. I don’t hide.” I watch her eyes carefully.
“Is that so? So you wouldn't have a bunch of tattoos under that suit?” Her lip curls. I want to kiss that smirk right off her face, bend her over this conference table, and make her scream with pleasure. Carlton looks at her sharply again.
“And what if I do? I'm one of the most successful QB's in the league. Business suits are not my usual uniform. My job is to call the plays, and to intimidate the other team. I’m a good player, but suits are not exactly my thing.”
“Yes. I’m sure you usually make do with far less,” she mutters almost under her breath, but I can hear it.
“Odell,” Carlton interjects, “Is everything okay here? Do we need to suspend this meeting and have a conference on our own?” Maybe I’m playing with her too much, but she asked for it. Perhaps she’ll be fired, if I’m lucky.
