Filthy in a Suit

by Luke Steel

  “Liar.” She singsongs the word and the sound bounces off the tile. She starts to flutter the dress to air dry it again, and when she does, I catch a glimpse of her panties. They’re white too.

  I shake my head and start to laugh.

  “What is it, counselor?”

  “You,” I say to the floor.

  “What was that?” Her voice is sweet innocence.

  “You. Enough with the game, Kari. It won’t work.”

  No pretending she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

  “Sure it will,” she says. And giggles.

  I don’t know if I’m pissed off, exasperated, turned on … all three. But the next thing I do is spin around and click the lock on the door, then turn back.

  “No,” I say, advancing on her, “It won’t. See, I don’t believe you. Not for a second. And I can prove it right now.”

  She’s lodged between me and the sink when I take her head in my hands. She arches up and closes her eyes when I lean forward to her lips, but I keep going and graze my mouth along her neck instead. She gasps when my lips make contact, her chest arching into me this time, her arms still at her side, refusing to join in.

  “See,” I pull back and force her to look directly in my eyes at this close distance. “You won’t even kiss me. All of it’s a game. You think you can play with me, lead me on, get me worked up to help you with your case. Like you probably do with most guys. You forget we’re not all little boy-men like your husband.”

  “Ex-husband,” she breathes.

  “Soon to be, if you stop dicking around. And that includes with me. I can jerk myself off, thanks.” I push back from her then, enjoying it just the littlest bit when she staggers, reaches for me.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Back to my office. Get yourself cleaned up and you can meet me there. I’m done with this.”

  “Wes!”

  She calls my name, I turn, and Kari’s there to meet me, her mouth on mine.

  The woman I’ve been fighting with myself to stop thinking about for days is warm and alive next to me, her mouth open to my kiss. She bites my lower lip and then licks into my mouth, dueling with me. No more teasing or pulling back. Kari has tight handfuls of my shirt in her fist, and she’s pulling like she wants to climb me and plant a flag.

  I’m a good six inches taller than she is, so I feel for the sink and then lift her up onto it. Seated in this position, her legs open and I slip between her thighs like I belong there. She hooks her legs around me, and then I’m nestled even further in, so close I can feel the heat of her pussy through the front of my pants.

  We both break the kiss at that contact. I don’t completely understand how we got to this so fast, but the way she’s panting and hanging on, I don’t think Kari minds.

  She’s a client she’s a client she’s a client. I can’t stop thinking it.

  “I think I passed your test.” Kari lets go of my shirt and pushes her hand up into my hair, tugging me down to her mouth. I lick the seal of her lips, but I don’t let her have her way.

  “So what?” I say. “A kiss? That’s all you got?” I put a hand in her hair, too, and pull her head back, snaking my tongue along the long column of her neck, down to that keyhole opening in the front of her dress. Kari squeals when I press my face into the opening, my face nuzzling her tits. Her legs clamp shut tight around my hips as she surges up and tries to pull me in again. She holds my head to her tits, pushing up into me as though trying to push straight through our clothes. I cradle the back of her thighs in my hands now, opening her further. I can feel this incredible heat coming off her, but part of me is still holding back, looking for signs she’s faking. Playing me. The animal reaction is not faked, I know that. But maybe that’s all it is. I can tell she wants me—her body anyway. Her nipples are poking through her dress, and if I pull those white silk panties to the side and dip my fingers into her pussy, I know she’ll be wet and ready.

  But there are plenty of other things Kari Michaels is after, and I may not be very high on the list at all. With just any woman I might not care. With a client, I’d have to be an idiot not to.

  I’m trying to bring myself to pull away from Kari, stop this before anything else stupid happens, when I feel a vibration in my pocket. Kari feels it, too (her thigh is pressed over the pocket) and we both stop.

  “Fuck! It might be my office.” I pull the phone out of my pocket and look at the screen.

  Son of a bitch. It’s Danny Michaels’ number—he’s calling for the millionth time this week. I try to darken the screen before Kari sees it but it’s too late. Rather than becoming upset, though, she smiles.

  “Answer it,” she says. I think she’s kidding.

  “No,” I say, putting the phone down. If I decline the call he’ll just call back right away, so I let it ring so it will go to voicemail. The phone vibrates on the counter.

  Kari’s out of breath like I am, but I can see a wicked little grin as she looks down at the phone. I’m stroking her legs, her ribcage, every part of her body while I watch the screen, willing it to stop ringing.

  “Answer it,” she says again. When I shake my head no and try to kiss her again, Kari lunges sideways and pops off the counter. Before I can stop her, she swipes the answer button on the call and tosses the phone back to me like a hot potato.

  “What the fuck,” I hiss at her, trying to be low enough so Danny won’t hear. Kari claps a hand over her mouth, laughing silently behind it.

  I put the phone to my ear. “Hello, Danny.”

  “Has she called yet?”

  Kari can hear him through the phone. She looks at me with wide eyes, pretending to be interested in the answer.

  “No, Danny. I haven’t heard from her yet.”

  Danny grunts. “I don’t like this, man. What’s she doing?”

  I’ve got the phone pressed to my ear, but my attention—my whole goddamned life—is focused on Kari and what she’s doing next. She leans in close and her lips meet mine, this time silent and slow. I feel her tongue trace a slow edge on my bottom lip, but when I pull her closer, she pulls away. She looks pointedly at the phone. I put it back to my ear. And then I feel her start to tug at my fly.

  Danny’s on a tear. “She’s got an angle. You watch. She’s playing some kind of game, man, I’m telling you.”

  He continues, but so does Kari, tugging the zipper all the way down and then slipping her hand into my pants. When she grips my cock, takes the whole length in her hand, her eyes go wide for a completely different reason.

  Oh, I’m watching, Dan, I say to myself silently. I watch as Kari brushes her nipples to my chest once, twice. Starts to go lower. Keeps going, slowly lowering to her knees in front of me. I watch as she presses her cheek to my erection, cupping my balls through my pants before she takes my belt in her teeth and tugs it loose.

  I put a hand to her hair. My heart is pumping like a locomotive.

  “Hey man,” Danny barks. “You at the gym or something? What’s with the breathing?”

  I cough to tamp down a sputter of laughter. I can’t believe this is happening.

  “Nah, sorry, I’m walking to my next appointment. Keep going.”

  Kari’s smile is slow, and we both know I meant that last bit for her. Christ.

  Kari reaches up and pulls my fly the rest of the way open and my cock springs free between us. Immediately she grips the shaft and wrestles my briefs lower. On her knees, there’s no mistaking the hungry look on her face. My hard-on was painful in my pants and it’s a different kind of tension altogether, waiting, knowing what’s next.

  She strokes me, playing, pressing her face and lips to my balls as she breathes out a hot blast of air. I can’t believe this is happening, her ex on the phone still ranting and cursing, while Kari is on her knees, running her open lips up and down my shift. She flicks her tongue out and touches the head, and I have to hold the phone away from me to breathe. She’s still toying with me, working me up, gettin
g it wet as she starts to pump and stroke with both hands. She knows exactly what she’s doing. It’s dirty—and so fucking wrong—and I can’t do anything but try to stay silent while she tortures me. Again.

  Enough!

  She’s laughing silently now, the cat’s grin wide and ready. I put a hand to the back of her head and fist her hair, gently, but tight enough to make my point. No more games.

  “Open.” I say it out loud, and her eyes widen.

  “What’s that?” Danny asks.

  I don’t answer, just hold the phone away from my ear and give her the smallest shake.

  It excites her. I can see it. Her breasts rise and fall fast, two bright spots in her cheeks. She licks her lips, and then opens her mouth.

  Her eyes fly wide when I push into her mouth. Fuck, yes. I’m rough, but I don’t care. The animal wet of her mouth is the only thing I can think about. It’s only sexier when her eyes sink closed and she takes me all the way in, her cheeks puffing and closing in a long pull.

  Holy shit, she’s so good. I watch my cock slide into her mouth, impossibly far, until I feel the head bump the back of her throat, followed by the delicate flutter as she swallows. Popping back to breath, both her hands are ready to work the wet slick shaft while she sucks the tip, swirling her tongue and then keeping the suction strong and steady as she pistons with her mouth, tongue, lips and hands.

  Kari drops her left hand while she shifts to a more comfortable position on her knees. But she keeps going with the right, sucking and stroking, watching me watch her. Every once in a while, her eyes flicking to the phone in my hand, and I swear she’d be smirking if I wasn’t buried in her mouth. I’m trying to be silent, but I’m not even worried about Danny—he just whines on. I can’t even hear him. It’s Kari I’m focused on, what she’s doing. It takes a moment to realize that while she’s blowing me, she’s using her other hand to touch herself. I can’t see it, but the idea that she’s so turned on is making me fucking crazy. I want a taste. But first I want to come.

  I nod at her, a silent affirmation that I love what she’s doing, press my free hand to her head to guide the motion as she works me. I let my head fall back for a moment just to feel what she’s doing to me, but then I have to look again. She’s so fucking hot on her knees like this, the image is going to be burned in my brain for a lifetime.

  “Yeah, I think we’re ready to get going on this. I’ll try to make contact again. No reason to keep waiting. We’ll do it.” I say the words into the phone, but once again, Kari knows exactly what I’m saying.

  I catch my own eyes in the mirror then, and barely recognize myself. I look like a wildman, completely taken over. Clutching a damn cell phone. So dirty, I can’t fucking believe it. I put my hand to the back of her head now, pushing deeper. Again. She brings both hands back up to my cock, pumping and stroking faster. Faster.

  I come when she moves the suction to the very tip. The orgasm tears straight through me, up through my balls and into her mouth. I fucking feel like I’m coming forever, and a runaway trail of come drips from Kari’s mouth as she works to take it all. Every drop, licking, swallowing.

  “Alright, Dan, I think I can take it from here. I’m going to go. I’ll be in touch.” I hurry off the phone, and then slam my finger down on the END button, missing once. Kari laughs, and the humming vibration tickles before I reach down and help her to stand.

  Chapter Three

  It’s been three days. I’m in the shower at my place, and two thoughts keep rolling through my head.

  She’s a client.

  I didn’t get her off.

  I don’t know which one of these bothers me more. The first thought makes me want to bash my head into the shower tile. The second just sparks another raging hard-on while I think of possibilities for how to rectify that if I ever get her alone again. I’ve already jerked off to her twice this morning.

  I know what I did with Kari the other day was wrong. I don’t want to quit the case because I owe Uncle Leo, but who knows, Kari might be the one to light the whole thing up and tell everyone. Then it really won’t be up to me anymore, it’ll be up to the State Bar! As far as I know, that might be her plan all along: see what happens with the case and me as their lawyer, and if she doesn’t get what she wants, she blows the whole thing to hell (pun intended) and tries again. The idea is a little too TV-movie conspiracy for my tastes, but you never know about people.

  The question I ask myself is, can I still be dispassionate about the case? Blow job or no blow job, Kari doesn’t have much on her side on this one. Prince Charming Bakeries is under Danny’s thumb, he owned it before he married her. I told her that from the beginning, I would tell her that now. To be fair, I’d probably try to be a little nicer about it, but that wouldn’t change my assessment. Whatever she thinks she has to gain by screwing with my head (even by giving me head) isn’t going to get her much.

  And yet, there’s a feeling that I seem to be experiencing often lately, and can’t seem to shake it ever since taking the Michaels case, and it is this: I am so fucked.

  I twist the shower off and try to focus on getting dressed, lay out my suit and go through three or four ties while coffee brews. I pick a skinny tie because it’s a little Mad Men-esque, something I think Kari would probably like. Try not to go too far down the lane of what Kari thinks and likes, pal, I tell myself. Still, I don’t change the tie. Standing in shirtsleeves, I check my reflection in the mirror. I’m not Don Draper, but not so far off either.

  I’m scrolling through emails on my phone and drinking coffee when I hear a knock at my door.

  “Delivery!”

  I open the door to a courier, who hands me a clipboard to sign, and then what looks like a pastry box tied with string. The delivery guy is wrestling with my carbon copy when I pull the string on the box and peek inside. There’s an artfully decorated pastry-sized chocolate cake with a blue envelope nestled beside it. On the envelope in looping script, I see the names on the card. For Wes, from KM.

  I open the note and start to read. The delivery guy is about to leave, but something makes me stop him.

  Wes,

  The cake is a family recipe. A little dolce to show my appreciation for your help with my dress the other day. You were very … sweet.

  Kari

  I look at the cake. She is a baker.

  “I have a return note for her, Ok? Can you wait a sec?”

  The delivery guy checks his watch and nods. “I have a form you have to fill out for the delivery, but I’m heading back to that side of town.”

  Perfect. I jog back to my apartment office and pull out some letterhead and my personal checkbook.

  Dear Kari,

  The gift is unnecessary—I was the one who ruined your dress in the first place. I’m enclosing a check to pay for it. And please don’t ask me to take it off the bill. I want to keep this matter separate.

  Wes

  Can’t get much more direct than that.

  I’m not exactly shocked when Kari shows up at my office, but still surprised when she storms in without knocking and slams the door. Again.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Another vintage look, only this time in a skin-tight black pencil skirt and a bright, peacock blue top that looks like something from the 40s. I don’t know how a pastry princess keeps a figure like hers, but somehow she pulls the whole thing off. Her eyes are lined dramatically as always, but her red lips are pursed in a dangerous line.

  I’m trying to concentrate, but seeing her again is kind of bombing me out.

  “What is what?” I ask.

  “This!” she says, and tosses the envelope on my desk. I recognize it from this morning. This scene is déjà vu from the first day I met her—and she looks just as pissed. “Your check. My dress wasn’t worth a thousand dollars, counselor, so what is it exactly you think you’re paying me for?”

  I get her meaning immediately and jump to my feet.

  “Whoa, OK, easy! I didn’t mean i
t like that.”

  “Damn right you didn’t, pal. I’m not a whore!”

  “Knock it off, alright. That’s not what it was for.” I come around the desk, but she backs up more than a few steps this time. I put my hands up, staying back, but this is pissing me off. I’ve never paid any woman for sex—never had any problems in that department at all, in fact. This isn’t what I meant.

  “Look, I just thought you wear all that fancy vintage whatever it is all the time. Shit like my grandmother probably wore before the war or something. I don’t know how much all that costs. It was a nice dress! I hate that you got coffee all over it because of me.”

  Her hands are on her hips now, her eyes on fire. “I dress like your grandmother? Asshole.”

  “Stop it! That’s not what I said!”

  “What did you say, then?

  “I said, I thought your dress was probably expensive and I was sorry I burned you with coffee.”

  “Well, it wasn’t expensive, so you can keep your money!” She turns away from me and sticks her chin in the air. If I wasn’t so worked up, the bratty little move would be absolutely adorable to me.

  But I am worked up. This whole thing is out of control. I’m out of control. I hate it.

  “You should take the money,” I say, and move back to my desk. “You’ll need it later.”

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean.”

  I force myself to sit down and put on my best court lawyer voice. “You know what it means, Kari. You have me by the balls on this one after the other day, I won’t deny it. I’ll face the consequences. You can even fire me and get your own attorney—I won’t charge you for anything. But if you’re doing all this, seducing me as a game, I’ll save you some humiliation and tell you right now my opinion of the case hasn’t changed. There’s no better outcome in your favor, not unless Danny agrees. And as his lawyer too, I don’t see any legal or financial interest for him to do so.”

  She puts her hands on her hips, lifts her chin as though about to say something brave, but then she closes her mouth. She seems flustered.