He sat behind his desk again to hide his erection. He watched Eliana composing herself and remembered the lovely stuck-up Debbie Kent years back. She became an amazing whore when she ran out of money and needed her support orders.
As Eliana stood to leave in tears, Gary controlled his erection and gave her a long hug.
Eliana said, “I’m sorry I didn’t get the money from the accounts like you told me.”
I’m not, Gary thought as he smelled her palpable desperation derived from his own expert subjugation. He enjoyed her confusion and the ever-familiar volatile emoting.
His hand dropped down her back to the curve above her buttocks. He stopped when he felt her tense.
Wait for the courthouse, he thought
With no temporary support or visitation order in place, the well-planned crisis was here—a crisis that would make her his.
* * *
On a Friday morning, Vicky listened to hysterical office voicemails from Eliana. William hadn’t returned the children Thursday night and didn’t answer her calls.
When Gary came in, he smiled at his orchestrated set up. He wouldn’t have to wait for the courthouse seduction. Gary hadn’t told Eliana that William’s lawyer had called him earlier to say that William was taking the boys away for a three-day weekend.
Gary had Eliana come in on an emergency basis at four. He and Eliana would be alone then. She would be desperate. It was exactly how he had first pleasured himself with so many women—so many times over the years.
She was his.
* * *
At three Gary reached for his bottle of Old Crow. It lubricated his lust and heightened the pleasure of his conquest—a tried-and-true prelude. It was an acquired taste—acquired when he was a penny-pinching law student. As he drank, he ruminated over his hobbies—the gambling, the women, the drinking. To him, they weren’t addictions. They simply made him happy. Eliana was going to make him very happy.
She attracted him as much as Skip’s wife had, but for polar reasons. Unlike Kim Duran, Eliana had an innocence and morality he longed to shatter. Behind her quick eyes was an innate intelligence, but she was not a seasoned sexual combatant as he was.
He would have her and have her and have her.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 13
Gary’s imbibed revelries were interrupted by a late afternoon call.
“Just get your boss on the phone.” Monica Ortega, the A.D.A. first chairing Skip’s murder trial, wielded her title and clout over Vicky.
Vicky hopped-to and popped her head in Gary’s office. “The lady district attorney. She’s on the line for you about Kim.”
Gary turned pale. He reached for the phone but stopped. He steadied his quivering hands on his desk. This woman had created a rabid dog prosecutorial profile in San Bernardino County. What the hell did she want? Him as a witness, or was he in the crosshairs? Had they discovered he was at Kim’s house?
Gary regretted the whiskey. At this moment he needed to be sharp—in charge of his full faculties—and he wasn’t.
He calmed down and thought, If they had anything on me this wouldn’t be a phone call. I’d be in handcuffs.
He took a deep breath and robotically stowed his Old Crow out of sight to take her call.
* * *
“Gary Stockton here.”
“I know. I called.”
“Of course.” Gary was obsequious to this reputed dragon-lady.
“I read the detective’s interviews of you and your secretary and the documents you sent.”
“Anything wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“I mean do you need anything? I’m busy prepping for a depo.” Gary audibly shuffled papers.
“One thing.”
“Happy to help.” Gary wasn’t happy to take this call or help.
“I have no copy of the filed stamped divorce papers. Neither does the court.”
“Ah, yes. Kim … Mrs. Duran never authorized me to actually file. You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t know how it is.”
“The back and forth …”
“Back and forth?”
“She just never was through with Skip. She had me hold off filing.”
“So I have everything then?”
“Everything the detective asked for.” Any lawyer recognized the subtext of those parsed words, but Ortega didn’t ask another question.
“Thank you.” She hung up.
She didn’t ask for the complete file and neither had Detective Gonzalez. The she-devil had made her case against Skip without it—a great case by all the media accounts. Like any good trial lawyer with a win in sight, she wanted to avoid the unknown and the unneeded. Gary assisted her. She had made the inquiry, which she was duty bound to make, and Gary had stonewalled. But subtly so.
It ended there.
* * *
Gary wiped the sweat from his forehead with the tissues meant for Eliana’s tender tears. He took out his bottle out and poured another stiff drink. Now he didn’t have to sanitize the file and coincide his work hours with his inflated billing. He was in the clear.
The “truth” was not what any A.D.A. wanted just before trial. Ortega had performed her “due diligence” and would charge into battle with the evidence she now possessed to secure her presumptive win. That was all anyone could ask and, of course, all Gary wanted
Gary’s kill would be buried with Skip in the isolated bowels of prison life. Gary had learned his lesson—to steer clear of young, low-class sluts. They were into self-help.
But not little Eliana. Gary smiled at his glass of Old Crow. Young and high-class. That’s what she is. She’ll never do the Kim-thing.
He coined the phrase the Kim-thing to funnel it through his own reality and attenuate himself from his brutal act.
Kim got what she deserved. He believed Kim’s death was justified.
He was only protecting his professional life, his River Oaks life, his married life—a peaceful, dispassionate routine with his platonic, but expensive, housekeeper—Mary. A wife he had trained to demand nothing sexual of him—after all, he was getting older. In reality, he was repulsed by her loose skin, flabby ass, and female post-menopausal smell.
It hadn’t always been this way, Gary reflected. He had been a decent husband and father once. He had been a credit to the legal profession, not just a good breadwinner. He had done well for a San Bernardino boy. He blamed divorce law. The things he saw every day in his specialty had warped his view of the good in life.
Whatever it was, whenever it had happened, Gary knew who and what he was now—and liked it.
* * *
At four, Vicky greeted Eliana, her last secretarial act of the day before she left to get her kids from afterschool daycare.
“Hello, Vicky.” Eliana averted her eyes red and swollen from anger and self-pity.
“I’ll tell Mr. Stockton you’re here.”
Vicky despised the women with those poor-me, crying eyes. She blamed them for not keeping their marriages intact. She believed that they weren’t nice enough to their husbands and didn’t take care of their homes or cook dinner every night like she did.
Vicky’s marriage was solid. She had chosen the right man—average looking, pliable, docile, church-going, and intertwined with her family and his. Marty Milford embraced societal controls, implicitly and explicitly, restraining his behavior. His dead-end job as an associate personnel analyst with the San Bernardino Transportation Department was perfect. A modest salary, decent benefits, regular hours, and a guaranteed, generous pension thanks to his union bargaining unit. They needed her salary and she needed to get out of the house, too.
Vicky knocked on Gary’s office door and peeked in.
“Mrs. Thurston.”
“Show her in and lock up when you leave.”
Vicky did as ordered. The fall air was a cool respite from the summer’s oppressive atmosphere. She silently gave thanks for the smal
l blessing.
* * *
“Eliana.” Gary grabbed a glass and his bottle. “Sit down, please. You poor girl. Let me get you something.”
“No, thank you,” Eliana said as she sat. “I’m fine.”
Gary handed her a short one anyway. Her eyes, instead of eliciting sympathy, triggered a predatory lust in Gary.
“Vicky told me what happened. I’m so sorry.” He sat next to her.
“William hasn’t called or answered and didn’t bring the boys home …” Eliana broke down.
“Drink up. It will steady you.”
Eliana took a drink.
“Take a deep breath and another drink.” Gary handed her tissues and put his hand on her shoulder. “There. There. You should have called my cell. I would have helped.”
“I … called my sister.”
Sister? Gary thought. He had forgotten to ask about siblings, but a clone of Eliana would be no trouble.
“She’s not your lawyer though, is she?” He refilled her glass—this time two fingers—and put the drink in her hands. “Promise you’ll call me next time.”
Gary sat beside her and eyed her breasts—small and firm. In the end, they all enjoyed him, one way or another. Gary wanted to separate her soft thighs under her floral silk sundress, right then.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Eliana wiped her eyes.
* * *
Kim was Gary’s only bad mistake over the years. Only one other woman had actually pursued a professional complaint against him, and she filed it with the County Bar Association—the wrong place. Not only did his friends hold him in high esteem there, but it had no licensing powers. He was safe.
The whole process was short, pro forma, and ended with an official finding that her allegations were baseless. In truth, not only were they deemed baseless, they were almost unintelligible—written in an illiterate complaint letter, grammatically challenged and creatively spelled.
* * *
“William texted me on my way here from his parents’ lodge in Big Bear to ask when I wanted them home Sunday.”
“Really?”
“He said his lawyer told you.”
“He didn’t.” Denial was Gary’s best defense.
“I know. He’s a liar. And he kept them out of school today. Can he do that?”
“Uh.” Gary’s mind was down her panties.
“He can’t do that, can he? Don’t we have some visitation thing yet?”
“Let me check and see.” Gary made a show of rifling through her file on his desk and then his inbox. “Nothing yet.”
Gary returned to Eliana, primed with the opportunistic and orchestrated drama. She was lonely, desperate, and afraid like all the rest. One touch to her breast and strong physical guidance would activate her juices.
“What should I do?” Eliana indulged in the glass of liquid relaxation once more before pushing it away.
“We can’t do anything just now. William’s attorney has to answer us first.”
“But he just took the boys … and I know with that secretary slut. I …” Eliana wept.
Gary stood her up by the shoulders.
“Come here, now. Have a good cry.” Gary pulled her body into his. “I’ll take care of this even without the ten thousand.”
“Thank you,” Eliana let herself fall into his arms sobbing.
“Don’t worry.”
Gary felt her little soft breasts jiggling against his chest with each sob. He slid his hand down her shaking back to her waist. He pulled her to him as he got hard. She wanted to be consoled and Gary felt her relinquishing herself to him.
“There … there.” He cupped her head into his chest and smelled the flower of her soft, long brown hair. “Let’s forget about the ten thousand.”
“What?”
“We’re both adults.”
Gary’s hands slipped to her thonged buttocks covered by her light silk dress. She froze.
“Come on, baby. We can work it out.” Gary gripped her tighter.
“Wait. Wa …” Eliana looked up struggling in his vice grip.
Gary speared his liquored tongue into her speaking mouth, lifted her skirt, and felt her firm round buttocks.
“Stop!” Eliana slammed his chest with her hands but now both his hands mauled her ass. “Let go! Stop!”
“Fine, you bitch.” Gary threw her back into the chair—her dress up to her waist and legs spread with pubic hairs enticing him more.
He took a step forward with his pants tented ready to pounce. But he hesitated and controlled himself at the precipice of rape—barely.
Eliana didn’t say a word. Her eyes were huge, her lips open ready to scream.
“Sorry, Eliana.” Gary retreated back around his desk and sat, neutralizing Eliana’s fear. “I … misread … I … you threw yourself at me.”
“No. No. I …” Eliana looked at the door to run.
“I’m sorry … really sorry, Eliana. You grabbed me. It must have been the drinks.”
Gary’s had learned and practiced the maxim that the best defense was an offense.
“I wouldn’t have … you kissed me … You—”
“No. Leave.”
Eliana straightened her dress, picked up her handbag, and fumbled for her car keys with shaking hands. She looked at her depleted second scotch. She was confused. Embarrassed.
“I … I didn’t mean anything,” Eliana muttered.
“Look, we’ll have the hearing as quick as I can get a date. I’ll see to it. Come in Monday at four, and we’ll do the prep. Vicky will have documents for you to sign. Let’s forget all this.”
Eliana’s big dark eyes studied him. “The hearing. Okay. Sure.”
Eliana left, confused and still shaking. She immediately called her sister on her drive home.
* * *
Eliana’s flowery smell lingered on Gary as he drank his Old Crow. He had handled it right. She thought it was her fault. He didn’t envision any police or other ramifications aside from Eliana being on guard and wary. He’d dealt with that before.
As he drank he rethought his approach to her. He had made a tactical error but covered it well. He had to lay off her for now.
He opened his fly to masturbate to Eliana’s smell and the memory of her softness, but he couldn’t. His adrenalined mind had transferred its focus to his biggest threat—Skip. The trial was imminent and he worried that by some fluke his relationship with Kim would come out. If so, it was only a mini-step to him being Skip’s reasonable doubt or exposed as the murderer.
As Gary sat alone at his desk, he convinced himself that it was the looming prospect of Skip’s trial that was making him misjudge Eliana.
He stood unsteadily, steeling himself to face his dreaded nightly horror—his home and his wife—this time both his wife and the couple from her Junior League activities she had invited over.
The double whammy.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 14
On Monday, Eliana called Vicky and insisted on an appointment Tuesday morning, not late Monday afternoon as Gary had ordered.
After Friday’s misunderstanding, she arrived armored with Angela.
As Gary prepped Eliana, Angela studied him. He tried to behave, even going into “charm” mode. But his eyes and thoughts were clearly all over Eliana’s body. Eliana was cute and animated as she took direction from Gary about the hearing.
Angela was a loyal older sister, despite Eliana becoming the broodmare for her self-absorbed William and his self-coronated Thurston family.
Angela now observed and confirmed that Gary was a letch. For her own self-interest, she had hoped that the previous Friday’s truth realistically lay somewhere in the quagmire of crossed signals—those sent out by Eliana’s enticing but innocent sexuality, and Gary’s opportunistic fantasies. Now she realized that she and Kurt had a big problem about to explode.
“So … are you married. Angela?” Gary asked, unable t
o keep his eyes from perusing her breasts.
“No. I—”
“She lives with her fiancé,” Eliana said.
Gary pigeonholed the protective sister as a desperate fool living with a man who would never marry her. Angela’s repeated questions about the division of assets, especially William’s 401K retirement fund, were laughable from this ineffectual female.
At least my stable got a quid pro quo—better service. This fool probably pays half the rent.
Abruptly, Gary stood to get the sister duo out of his sanctum, with Eliana only half-prepped for the court hearing. He didn’t need the sanctimonious sister screaming pervert at him with her eyes and inhibiting his grooming of Eliana.
“Can you come to the mediation and hearing Friday, Angela?” Gary asked.
“I’ll be at work.”
“Too bad. I’d like you to see me in action.”
“I bet.”
“Eliana, we can leave from here,” Gary volunteered.
“No, she’ll meet you there,” Angela said.
“Yes, I’ll meet you there.” Eliana bravely parroted her sister.
“Don’t be late.”
Gary was focused on getting at Eliana’s flesh before the hearing. He wanted Eliana, and he would have her. Skip’s impending trial had eroded his edge or he would have had the pleasures of Eliana’s softness before this sisty-ugly got involved. His judgment had been clouded by his real, and deserved, fears about Skip’s trial and the unexpected turns it might take.
“Goodbye,” Gary said.
The women didn’t speak.
And good riddance, Angela, Gary thought as he slammed the door.
* * *
Angela drove Eliana back to her house. “You were right. That guy’s an ass.”
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