by Luke Steel
“Really?” she asks. And smiles at me for the very first time.
As I watch, Kari executes a perfect little step and pivot then bends over low, giving me a perfect and completely open shot at her ass. She plucks a tube of lip-gloss up from the floor and pops back up again, flipping her long hair as she closes the tube in her purse. Somehow she’s standing closer to me too, though I haven’t moved an inch. I realize her hair isn’t just dark brown like I thought before, but a deep dark chestnut.
Kari isn’t coy or flirtatious or even shy as she looks up into my eyes. Penetrating and direct at a very close distance she asks, “I’m your client, too, right?”
She’s playing a game and I don’t know all the rules yet. But I nod.
Kari tilts her head closer. “You … work for me?”
I have to blink a few times. “Yes. In a manner of speaking.”
“Good,” she says, and smiles again, only this time she bites her lip while she does it. Our bodies aren’t touching, my hands are still in the air. Kari steps even closer.
“I don’t like the deal.” Her voice is soft and low, caressing my face. This close, her skin looks baby soft and smooth. I want to touch it. Kari’s lips almost graze mine as she leans closer. “I want you to think about what you can do for me.”
I move forward then. Completely out of instinct. Not quite sure what I’m about to do, but plenty of things come to mind.
Only she steps back, her eyes burning. She lifts her chin like she’s daring me to touch her. Which is when I realize this whole thing is a game. She’s fucking with me so I’ll help her and get her what she wants.
“You’re good, I’ll give you that.” I turn back, adjusting my cock as I walk back to my desk. There’s a bottle of scotch in my office drawer. I’m going to need a drink after this.
Kari hasn’t moved from the spot where I left her. She’s got a little knowing smirk on her face.
I battle back for a draw. “Ms. Michaels, you gave me some new information today. I will have my assistant look over our original assessment and see if we can come back to you with a second offer.” Kari’s eyes light up, and I speak quickly to tamp down her excitement. “Don’t get your hopes up. I think I know how a court would rule even if you chose to fight it. And then there’s Danny. He wants to fight, just like you do. My legal opinion is that it is best for both of you to curb that instinct and find a solution you can live with and walk away.”
I’m doing everything I can to try to talk baseball and give the impression of the dispassionate lawyer. If it’s working, I can’t tell. Kari’s still smiling like she knows something I don’t.
“Ok then,” she says brightly, gathering up her bag. She makes for the door, bouncing on her heels, and I get a nice parting shot of her ass in that tight skirt.
“Ms. Michaels?”
“Yes?” she asks brightly, turning on her peep toes.
“Next time make an appointment.”
She saunters out without bothering to reply, but a decidedly softer exit than when she arrived.
The second the door closes, I’m out of my chair and pacing the goddamn room like a maniac. What the hell just happened?
I don’t call Leo again because if I do I’m just going to curse him out. Not to mention the fact that calling the old man with this raging hard-on in my pants is absolutely the last thing I want to think about right now.
It’s all rushing me—her skin, her hips in my hands. The hot little dare on her face, knowing I couldn’t do a goddamn thing or risk compromising the case. Shit. Shit!
I walk up to my office door and silently click the lock so I won’t be disturbed again. My fly springs open as I take my cock in hand, pumping a few times as I remember the way Kari’s back arched when I pulled her into me. There’s a glistening drop at the tip as I stroke, and soon my palm is gliding freely up and down the shaft, clicking now as more pre-cum beads up. I think about her in other positions, other places in my office. Bent over my desk, or on the floor, her heels in the air while I pump between her stockinged thighs. Her legs spread wide while I eat her out in my office chair.
I want you to think about what you can do for me.
More. That naughty pin-up girl smile, and the taut creamy legs, opening for me, taking the dick I’m stroking now and that she was eyeing so hungrily less than a half hour ago. Toying with me, playing, right up until I take her up on that offer and show her exactly how I’m going to finish what she started.
When I come it’s like a shot going off in my head and through my cock at the same time. I bite back all sound and try to contain my breathing as it keeps going, going, into the handkerchief I pulled out of my shirt pocket.
As I’m cleaning up a minute or two later, I feel a little bit of hope flair. Jack off a time or two (I don’t lie to myself, it’s going to happen again.) Kari strikes me as a bit of a problem, but I tell myself that if that’s the worst that happens, the case will still be fine. No harm, no foul, and we all go home happy.
Chapter Two
I need coffee.
Strike that. No, what I need is to get the hell out of this office. I’ve had a shitty last few days and the four walls feel like they’re closing in on me. It’s been almost a week since Kari Michaels strolled out of my office, but the books she knocked sideways are still askew on the shelf. A perfect metaphor for how I feel, to be honest. But I’ve finally had enough, and it’s time to get the hell out of here and take a break. I grab my keys, wallet and cell phone and head for the door. There’s a café about three blocks from my office. I’ll walk off whatever this is, and get back to work.
There’s not been a word from Kari, neither initiated by her nor in reply to my messages and emails. Her ex, on the other hand, has been making a damn nuisance of himself, calling almost non-stop with new demands every day. Most of these I’m not even trying to pass on, I just need to touch base to see if Kari’s calmed down and given the original offer more consideration. Nothing. Instead, I’m left to stew. And jump when anyone knocks at the door. And check my emails every three or four minutes. I have plenty of other cases to occupy me while these two litigants pitch their proxy battle. But that doesn’t help me focus.
The day’s already warming up the morning air when I hit the street. I throw my jacket over my shoulder and shove a fist in my pocket as I begin to walk. I pass a woman getting out of an Audi convertible on my right, your typical piece of expensive L.A. eye candy—the woman, not the car. We lock eyes briefly and I don’t miss the flirtatious side glance as she tosses her long blonde hair over her shoulder. She’s a type I’d usually go for, too. But other than appreciating the view, something leaves me cold. There’s nothing unique there.
I flash on a memory of dramatic red lips and black-lined cat eyes. The blonde is a walking paper doll in comparison.
I turn and make my way a little faster up the street. In hindsight, I really shouldn’t be shocked that this case would mess with me. A guy like Uncle Leo wouldn’t be involved at all if a favor was easy. But what I don’t get is why. Leo doesn’t seem to be muscling anyone on this deal. In fact, he isn’t pushing me either way. It’s the clients who are acting like … well, they’re acting like typical folks getting divorced. It might have been a little too ambitious to expect that we’d sew this up quickly, but at the same time nothing about this case seems special.
Except for her, of course. Kari definitely qualifies. I can’t stop thinking about her.
What’s killing me is I just don’t get how a gorgeous, sensual knockout like Kari could have given the time of day to a Danny Michaels, much less married the guy. I suppose he’s handsome in an oil slick kind of way. Maybe smooth—big maybe—if he wants to be. But Kari looks like the kind of woman who’d see through all of that in a second. She’s too smart, too sharp to be taken in by anyone, much less someone so damn obvious.
I shake my head as though I can shake the questions out of it. What does it matter? As has been pointed out to me a time or two (usually on
dates) I’ve never been “in love” so I can’t understand. My snappy comeback is if never falling air-quotes-in-love means I’ll never find out how it makes otherwise intelligent people so damn stupid, I’m fine with that. I don’t “date” much, either.
I roll up on the café just as the last of the morning crowd seems to be departing. Nothing but a figure or two at the small tables in the window, local screenwriters tapping away at their laptops. The little bell on the door rings as I open the door, and I see a cute hipster barista behind the counter, finishing up for one customer—a woman.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking about her for days, but the woman doesn’t even have to turn around and I recognize her immediately. The legs, the taut rise of her backside and hips. She turns and, in my brain, I’m watching it happen in slow motion again, the world around me ground to a nice, neat stop.
Kari Michaels’ dark hair is pinned back with white flowers, and she’s in another vintage wrap dress, only today it’s a virginal white. The fabric pulls around her body as she turns, and I take in the plunging keyhole opening at the front of her dress framing breasts pushed up full and tight. She’s in a different pair of peep toe heels today, cherry red patent leather topped with white flower pompoms over the toes. She’s a calendar girl daydream come to life.
She sees me, too. She stops still as she’s stepping away from the counter and we stare into each other’s eyes for the briefest moment. Recovering before I do, instead of acknowledging me, she lifts her chin in the same stubborn way she did in my office and moves with her coffee toward the milk counter.
Well, I’m awake now.
Keeping Kari in my peripheral vision, I step up to the counter and place my order. The barista nods but then looks at me funny. I realize she asked me a question.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I said, would you like an extra shot with that?” The barista looks down at the counter between us. “Uh, then again, you seem pretty wired as is.”
I realize I’m tapping all ten fingers on the counter and I stop. “No, no shot. Thanks. How much?” The girl smiles awkwardly as I fumble for my wallet.
I’m handing the money over when I hear the café doorbell jingle again. Kari’s no longer in my side view.
I lurch around to try and catch her at the door before she leaves … only I slam directly into the very woman I was trying to catch. Another customer walked in, but Kari was standing almost directly behind me. With a fresh and full cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand. The coffee sloshes everywhere, on her, me, the floor, all over her snow white dress, and streams over her arm.
“Watch where you’re—ah!” Kari gasps as the skin on her arm turns a vicious red.
“Shit! Come here. Quick!” I grab Kari by her elbows and hustle her in my arms, moving sideways to the café bathroom. There’s only one in the place. The door snaps shut behind us as I drag Kari to the sink, pressing her forward and then bending her over the sink so her arm is directly under the tap. I blast the cold and she lets out a sharp breath as the water hits the scald. I’m there when she jolts back.
“Shhhh, it’s ok. Let it run,” I say.
The door pops open and the barista peeks her head in, calling over the rush of water. “Are you ok? Can I get anyth—“
“Ice!” I bark at her reflection in the large mirror. “And soda water.”
The girl scurries off and the door shuts again. I turn back to the tap. Kari still has her arm under the flow, but instead of gaping at it, she’s looking up into the mirror. At me.
Her lips move, but the water is rushing so loud I can’t hear.
“What did you say?”
I lean in and put my ear closer to her. I catch the scent of her perfume then, something familiar yet exotic and reminds me of suntan oil and spice. She doesn’t look away from me as she says two words directly into my ear—a sexy low murmur because her lips are so close I feel her breath.
“Thank you.”
Where I am, and who I’m with, rushes in at me in that moment. I’m bent with Kari over the sink, her body nestled into mine in an intimate hold. I realize I’m stroking her back and I stop the motion, though I can’t quite bring myself to remove my hand completely yet.
Kari doesn’t pull away either. Just stays in the circle of my arms, bent forward with me. Her cheek and lips are still close to my ear. The fabric of the dress is thin, and her flesh under my palm is warm, pliant. I try a little break in the moment by pushing her arm further under the tap. And that’s when she laughs and, to my complete surprise, snuggles in closer.
“Here you go!” The door bursts open again and the barista dashes in.
Kari twists the cold tap and shuts the water off. The girl hands her a plastic bag of cubes, but I snatch the ice and press it to Kari’s arm myself.
“Thanks, hon,” Kari says, “I’m fine.” I don’t know if she’s talking to the barista or to me.
I snap my head up. “You are?”
She bites her lip and lowers her head, looking up at me through her lashes. “Yeah. But you were so serious about playing the dashing hero, I didn’t want to steal your thunder.” She leans close to the barista and stage whispers, “He’s kind of cute, flustered like this, isn’t he?”
She winks at the girl who glances at me then looks down and purses her lips to hide her smile.
The barista clears her throat and holds up a bottle of seltzer and some napkins. “Your dress, though. Can I help?”
“That’s alright. I think we can take it from here.” Kari takes the bottle and napkins, shoving them over to me, before she turns back to bustle the girl out of the room. She leans back on the door to close it, the bag of ice behind her back.
There’s a splash of coffee spatter over the snow-white fabric, right across her chest, and then lower on the hem. Looking at either place too long is going to get me in trouble. We’re alone in the little room. I’m still standing at the sink, my only exit blocked by my client.
“Well?” Kari asks and tilts her head. I start forward then stop abruptly when Kari’s eyes travel deliberately down and back up again, slowly appraising me from head to toe. The look on her face is hungry, and it’s obvious she wants me to feel like she’s the one in charge. My own instincts are coming online here. Part of me would be more than happy to oblige. The danger that she’s my client makes it more tempting, not less. But that’s very clearly what she wants. An advantage.
And Kari’s not letting up. Her eyes stop at the front of my slacks. She had my complete, ah, “attention” a few minutes ago when she was tucked in close to me by the sink, when all I wanted to do was fuck her, And I know exactly what she’s looking at.
When her eyes meet mine again, Kari holds her hand out to me.
I feel a rush in my chest. Without thinking or hesitating, I lurch forward.
“The soda, Mr. Stanley,” she says abruptly, stopping me in my tracks. “For my dress?”
There is no misreading the challenge on her face, the same as in my office last week. We both know she’s toying with me, playing. It’s the second time she’s gotten me.
Ok, Kari. Let’s play.
I twist the cap without looking and douse a wad of napkins with the bubbly, and then I hold them out to her so she has to step toward me for them.
She takes her time, calmly stepping closer.
And then, instead of taking the napkins from me, she takes me wrist and guides my hand to the front of her dress, using me to press the napkins to her chest.
Fine. I take her challenge and start to dab at the stain myself, dousing more of the soda water onto the napkins now and again, then going back to her chest. Her hands fall to her sides, but she juts her chest out for me, twisting slightly back and forth, to give me complete access. From this angle, I can see through the keyhole opening of her dress, straight to the creamy skin and cleavage nestled tight at the opening. She bites her lip and looks up at me with exaggerated innocence, though every bit of her screams naughty girl.
I try to sound casual. “I’ve been calling you.”
She doesn’t say anything until I look up at her. Then she shrugs, and I try to ignore what that does to her breasts.
“I’ve been busy.”
She takes my hand in both of hers then, increasing the pressure against her tits. Rubbing. Looking me straight in the eye the whole time. The heat in that look is like feeling a hand straight over my cock. Lightning.
I exhale hard and step back, leaving the napkins in her hands. She smirks, and steps closer.
“Trade you?” she asks, batting her eyes.
I don’t know what she means until she steps past me to the sink, reaching for more seltzer water so she can bend to the second stain at her hem, and now I’m staring straight at her ass as she bends forward.
I turn away and push a hand through my hair, frustrated. The space is small but there’s enough room to pace.
“Believe it or not, I was just coming to see you,” she says.
I’m supposed to believe that?
“Believe it, counselor.” She’s playful, still blotting. “This isn’t my part of town.”
“That’s true, I have the Chinatown address for you. Why didn’t you stay in the house?”
Kari mumbles something and blots harder. I think she said, ‘Bad memories’ but I can’t be sure.
I watch her for a while, staring until she sets the bottle to the side of the sink and then looks up at me. The wet blotch on her dress is making the fabric almost transparent and she’s waving it in the air to air dry it. The stain hasn’t come out completely, though.
“I’m sorry about your dress. Spilling on you. I’ll pay for it.”
Kari shrugs and leans against the counter, her hands on either side of her now. “Take it off my bill. My side of the bill, though. Not his.”
“And your arm is ok?”
She nods. “I meant it. You were very sweet to rescue me like that.”
“Just don’t want to get sued.”
