by Luke Steel
I’m trying to ignore the way I’m reacting to her, and her look of confusion isn’t helping. But I can’t be her attorney and not tell her the truth.
We’re both quiet for a bit. She sits down.
And then she sighs and leans forward. “I’m ready to talk about my case.”
“Kari …”
“No, I get it. I’ve been putting it off because I was angry. But I’m ready.”
I pick up my pen and start playing with it. “Well, I’m not ready.”
“You’re serious?” She laughs, but she doesn’t look happy about it at all. I don’t blame her. If the plan was to get me on her side, it worked nicely. Truth be told, Danny Michaels is the classic bad guy and it wouldn’t have taken all this to get me there, but … yeah. This divorce is going to suck for her and there isn’t much I can do.
“I am serious, actually. I have other appointments this afternoon. But …” I can’t believe I’m doing this, even as I’m doing it. “I can meet you for dinner. Tonight. We can talk then.”
Kari’s lips curl at the corner, her eyes narrow.
“Or, make an appointment with my assistant for next week. I don’t care.”
Our eyes meet. There’s a little bit of challenge creeping back in.
“Where for dinner?”
“The Oak Room. Downtown. At The Carlsbad.”
“Time?”
“Let’s meet at the bar at 7.”
Kari gathers herself and then stands. It takes every single bit of will power I possess not to watch her body as she moves.
She’s about to turn around when she stops abruptly. Reaching out over my desk, she rests her fingertips on the envelope with the check still inside.
“Tonight at dinner … we’re on the clock, is that right?”
“We’re talking about your case, so yes.”
“Ok, then …” She snatches the envelope back up and slips it into her clutch. “See you at 7.”
Hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave.
Chapter Four
I like things and places that deliver as advertised. The Oak Room at the Carlsbad Hotel is exactly what you’d expect: a swank, old boys club-style place downtown. I dug into her about it today, but Kari’s love of all things vintage and turn-of-the-century in the way she moves and speaks fits right into the fantasy style of this place. I’m looking forward to her seeing it, almost as much as I’m looking forward to seeing her.
If she shows. I may have pushed her a little too far today. Divorces are difficult. Nothing makes them less so. The financial and emotional tolls are devastating, so it’s no wonder she’s going through a lot of emotional extremes. I’m not an asshole or cold-blooded, even if I am a lawyer. Reading people helps me to be good at what I do. If I wasn’t personally entangled, I would have been able to see her through some of it.
But I haven’t had a read on this situation from the beginning. I don’t know if I can.
She’s not late. I’m early. A good thirty minutes. I’m at the bar, nursing the ice from my first drink. I tossed it back when the bartender set it down, but I haven’t ordered another. One and she doesn’t show, I can pretend I’m just a guy who stopped in after work for a drink. Two? I’ve been stood up and like a sap I’ll order a third to dull the pathetic. But if she doesn’t come, I only have myself to blame.
I look at my cell phone, checking for messages and email for the billionth time. Some missed calls from Danny. Can’t help but feel a blast of heat when I remember what happened the last time I took his call and Kari was there. Best to put that away before she gets here.
“Sam?” I call to the bartender. They know me here. “I’ll probably be back before she gets here, but if a woman stops by asking for me, tell her I’ll be back?”
“Blonde or blonde?” This is Los Angeles.
“Dark brown red. Looks like she stepped off a WWII bomber. Total pin-up girl.”
“I’ll tell her,” he says, eyes on his sports page as he wipes down glasses.
I make for the lobby and head for the men’s room. It’s a luxurious hotel, and the men’s room is an old-fashioned lounge-style washroom. The attendant, Winston, has worked here for over thirty years.
I don’t need to go, I just check the mirror, smooth my hair. Wash my hands. When I check my watch, I still have about five minutes to kill.
“How you doing tonight, sir?” Winston calls from his chair, next to a basket of sundries and mouthwash.
“Not bad, not bad. Client dinner. You know how it is.”
“Indeed I do. Here you go.” Winston hands me a fresh towel and steps back.
“Thanks, man.” All I have with me are twenties. I throw one into his basket. Winston’s a good man.
When I head back to the bar, there’s a woman in my chair. She looks like Kari from behind, and her dark hair is down and loose. The bartender, Sam, is still polishing glasses, but his eyes are all over her as he grins and chats her up, his newspaper forgotten at the end of the bar.
I don’t blame the guy. Rounding the bar, I lean over to greet her … and then I have to stop in my tracks.
It is Kari. But not. No heavy eye makeup or lipstick. Her hair frames her face in soft, loose waves. And without her regular dramatic makeup, without the fierce and hard vintage edge, tonight she’s a beautiful work of simple, soft lines and shiny pink gloss. Nothing dramatic in this version of her, though still mysterious and shadowed in all the right places.
I open my mouth to tell her she’s beautiful, but that’s not what comes out. “Why are you dressed like this?”
“Like what?” Kari looks down at herself.
“Like … not like you.” Real smooth there, Wes.
The mischievous look on her face I do recognize. “Oh really?”
The dress she’s wearing is modern, too. A little shine in the fabric, the strapless sheathe is more Golden Globes Hollywood than Kari’s usual Golden Age look. The dress is almost the same color as her skin, and the effect is making her look nude to my eye and I instantly want to punch every man in this room for looking at her. I’m so used to seeing her as the dramatic vintage princess, this golden goddess version of her is like meeting her all over again. And she floored me the first time. She’s gorgeous tonight.
When she looks up at me again, her face is bland, innocent. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?”
“Something more modern. Like the dress?” She winks at me and stage whispers, “I spent your money on it.”
I shake my head, as if I can clear it that way. “You look beautiful. You always look incredibly beautiful. This is just so different.”
She shrugs, and I’m immediately distracted by her creamy bare shoulders. “Wow. That’s not what you said this morning.”
“I’m sorry?”
Her hair falls over one eye while she arches the other. “You said you didn’t like my usual look.”
“I did not.” My neck jerks. I didn’t say that.
Kari shrugs. “The war baby look. ‘Stop dressing like a grandmother.’ Those were your exact words.”
“No, those were not my exact words.” The lawyer in me is screaming to read the tape back to the court. I said no such thing.
“Sure they were. And then you called me fat.”
“What the hell are you— “ I stop when Kari’s eyes twinkle. I finally realize she’s fucking with me.
Kari crosses those long, shiny legs and a hidden slit in the dress opens wide on her thigh. I can see all the way up to her—enough!
“Ow.” Kari admonishes me, but doesn’t protest when I yank her off the bar stool.
I pull her after me, back through the oak room and into the hotel lobby, all the way to the discrete men’s room. Winston looks up when I enter the heavy paneled room, check to see if it’s empty. He stands up in alarm when I yank Kari in after me. He gives Kari a full up and down appraisal that lasts a second too long. While I can’t blame the guy—at all—I’m not exactly
in the mood to delay or explain.
I don’t have to say anything to the wizened old man—he’s seen a thing or two in the washroom over the years. But he does give Kari another once over, only this time he seems to be checking that Kari wants to be there.
Kari smiles and winks. Winston ducks his head the slightest bit—there are very few men on the planet who wouldn’t be affected by a woman like her—and then he heads for the oak door with one last pointed look at me and his tip basket.
“Sorry, sir,” I hear Winston say to someone outside, stopping them from coming in as the door closes behind him. “This room is closed for cleaning. You can try across the lobby …”
When it closes, and we’re alone, Kari turns on a high golden heel and pivots to a mirror, pulling a hand through her hair. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
I can’t fucking help it. I’m not gentle or nice when I grab her by the back of her dress and jerk her into my arms. And she doesn’t fight, not even for a second. When I kiss her, Kari wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in just as tight, slanting her mouth so our tongues can play and push, licking and biting like animals.
And just as quickly I shove away from her. She’s dazed and off balance, but I bat her hands away.
“I told you to knock this off.”
“You kissed me!”
I slice at the air between us. “Irrelevant. You’re doing it on purpose!” Standing back, I’m scolding her like a prude aunt. “This is a client dinner. What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?” she laughs, incredulous.
“Does string even qualify as wearing panties? I can see straight through the fabric. Every guy in that bar was weighing the odds. And you’re making me look like I’m meeting you here to—“
“Listen to yourself!” Kari cuts me off, draws up tight, fists clenched at her side. “I am so sick of idiot men who blame me for wanting what they want. You. Danny.”
“Don’t lump me in with that asshole husband of yours.”
“Why not?” she snaps. “You’re acting just like him. A wife can’t want sex, or like it at all, or it means I must be a cheating whore. Even though he was out with different women behind my back for years. And then you,” she sneers at me. “You. I see the way you look at me. I know you want me and the only thing standing between us right now is you! But I’m your client, so I must be playing you. I can’t fuck you just because I want to without some kind of evil agenda.”
“Those two things have nothing to do with each other.”
“Yes they do! Me. I want it. I want you to look at me. I want your hands on me. I heard everything you said and you won’t be played by me. Noted. Got it! So do it already!”
She stalks to me and points a sharp finger nail into my chest. “Know what I think? I think you’re mad because you know you’re lying. I can sway you, get you on my side. You want to help me. You’d tear Danny apart for me. But you have to keep your nice, neat law-and-order life perfect and safe.”
She leans in and runs her open lips along my jaw. “So keep it, counselor. Play it safe. Keep your hands off me. God forbid you make a mess.”
She’s tugging my tie loose as she talks, rubbing her body against me, her palm over my cock through my suit pants. It’s an onslaught, it’s like she’s everywhere—creamy skin, heat and breath, her nipples peaked through the fabric of her dress. She pulls at the zipper of my fly and slips her hand in my briefs, taking my cock in her hand, stroking the exact same way she broke me a few days ago.
“What do we have here? Hard as a gavel and nowhere to go. Shame.”
She takes her hand out and licks the palm right in front of me before slipping it back down again. I press my forehead to hers, letting her work me up, savoring it. Her taunts did exactly what she intended. I’m about to unload on her, she has no goddamn idea.
“This is what I want from you. Just this.” She says the words against my mouth and strokes the head of my cock.
I push away from the wall and take her hands in mine, kissing her now. I’m taller, stronger than she is. It’s easy to pull her up on her toes and bend her back, taking. When she realizes I’m the one leading now, pushing her for more, she tries to meet my mouth stroke for stroke. No chance. She started this. I’ll finish it.
Her hands wander and pull at my shirt. I take them back in mine and pin them behind her. She wiggles, tries to burrow closer. I hook a hand under her leg and haul her up higher. I’ve been walking her back slowly for a few steps, and the kiss breaks when her back hits the wall. She pushes back on it for leverage, digs her shoulders back so she can grind her hips into me. When she wriggles her hands free and tries to claw at me again, I realize I’m going to have to take the situation in hand.
With a little stop and frisk maneuver I learned from watching an old court bailiff buddy, I flip her around to face the wall and pin her up against it. I pull her left arm high on the wall, pressing up full length against her. She moans when I push my cock up against her ass, pushes back against me for maximum friction. I use the leverage to slip my right hand under the hem of the dress. And then she goes absolutely still when I finally get where I’m going.
Her thighs are slick and slippery with her juice, the fabric of her string bikini panties sopping wet. I push my fingers in deep, hooking up to stroke in a steady piston motion that has her moaning in two seconds. She’s hot and tight around my fingers, but when I finally get my cock inside her, I know I’ll slide right in. When I have her in the palm of my hand, literally, I lean in close to lick the delicate whorl of her ear. She jolts and cries out, straining back against me.
“This is all you want, Kari?” I push deeper, twisting. “Just this?”
She shakes her head and cries out again when I twist up. I can feel her pussy pulsing against my palm. She keeps grinding, pushing that sensitive little nub at the edge of my hand, riding it out. I pull out of her pussy and just stroke there for a while, loving this little bit of payback. I murmur to her, urging her on. I can feel wetness on her cheek, and I lick it away, tasting salt wet skin and perfume.
She’s reaching back behind her, grabbing whole handfuls of my pants, my shirt, me, anything she can get her hands on.
“Please, Wes.”
“What are you asking for? Say it out loud.”
I rub her clit faster, and she puts her hand over mine between her legs, holding it to her, helping. Her pussy lips are swollen and velvet soft. I stop a moment and put my fingers to my lips, tasting her pussy for the first time. Sweet syrup on my tongue.
“Please, Wes, I want … oh!”
I push back inside her, stroking faster. She shakes her head again and her palms are flat on the counter, digging into the surface. I drag the edge of her dress up over her hips and that perky little ass is finally revealed to me. I’m going to see the rest of her tonight, that’s a goddamn promise.
Exposed, she tries to straighten but I stop her. “No, baby, keep your legs spread just like this for me.” I give her a little shake and a nudge in her most sensitive place. “Let me see you.” Her head drops back, and the long column of her throat is exposed, her mouth open. She obeys, her toned legs lean and long in her strappy heels. I push her forward further, bending her just so. When I step back, I can see the swollen lips of her pink pussy glistening and waiting for more attention.
She’s completely bent over the counter now, and without warning I drop to my knees behind her, pull her panties to the side and run my tongue along her cleft. She wriggles in shock and tries to straighten upright, but I’m right there to hold her, my fingers sliding into her pussy hard and high. There’s a muffled sound from her, and out of the corner of my eye I can see her reflection in one of the long mirrors. She’s put a hand over her own mouth to stifle the noises she’s making, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed.
I run the flat of my tongue along that sweet little slit and then push inside. She jerks and pushes back against me, moaning into her hand. She’s so fucking sexy like this
, a gorgeous woman taking pleasure, feeling everything. My cock is aching and ready, but I’ve been obsessed imagining exactly this for the last week. I’ve closed my eyes and remembered every detail of Kari on her knees in front of me while those lips closed around the head, her tongue flicking, but I’ve kicked myself just as many times for not taking more of her when I had the chance. That changes now.
I feel like an animal growling into her while I take her, lapping at her juice, pushing her higher. I drive her clit with my tongue now, laving the little bud over and over. Her thighs are taut under my hands and she starts to shake. I change to quick little flicks with the tip of my tongue and the high keening squeal she makes behind her hand is like a starting pistol for us both. That’s the spot, that’s exactly what she likes.
Faster. I know she’s getting close when she tries to pull away from me and take control back, rising up on her toes in those fuck-me pumps to get distance. I follow, relentless. At the last second she finally gives it up to me, helpless, grinding back. I push my fingers hard into her pussy again for one final stroke, just to feel her pussy spasm over and over on my lips and on my hand, just so I can feel and taste her come at the same time.
The pulses are still hitting her as I stand and pull her back into me. She’s limp and panting, still bent over, but I catch the wild animal way she looks up at me through her hair. Our eyes catch and hold in the mirror as I lean in close to her ear and confirm what we both know.
“I’m not done with you.”
And just so there’s no chance she’ll mistake my meaning, I press my hard cock against her ass.
She pushes both of her hands straight forward on the wall now, shoving back with her hips, rubbing against my cock. Offering her pussy up to me. I stroke the long line of her body, pulling her hair one last time, before I reach under the hem of the dress she wore just for me and rip her string panties down and out of the way for good.
She shimmies back, urging me on now, her back arched, her long legs spread apart. I take my heavy cock in hand, putting the edge right at those swollen lips and pause for only the briefest second before I shove into her to the hilt. Her back arches hard and I feel her pussy spasm and sheathe my dick, tighter than I realized she could be, even as wet as she is. If it hurts, she still seems to love it, because she starts to shake hard in my arms as I fuck her. Hard and steady at first—drawing out every bit of the feel of her tight little box around me.
