Watching Her With The Lawyers

by Summers, A. B.

  My fifth drink is here and now I realize I have to do something. But what? Cynthia is in the middle of that group right now, clearly the center of attention, but in a way that’s friendly and not as sexually charged as I was hoping for this point in the evening. Cynthia is flirting a bit, making better eye contact with each of the men, raising her arms and playing with her hair, taking off her jacket and letting her boobs get some looks from the guys. She looks great, fucking GREAT, and I have no doubt that this night is going to get to where I want it. But at the same time I want to move things along.

  A couple of minutes later, the door opens and two young women walk in. They are maybe twenty-five or so, both of them dressed in skirts and tights, both of them laughing as they walk in and stop for a moment as they look around for a place to sit.

  “Hey, Rachel,” Parker calls out loudly, and my heart sinks as I watch the two younger women wave and quickly walk over to the lawyers, their asses swaying, boobs swinging.

  Fuck, I think. They must work at the same office. Yup, I realize as I see Cynthia smile and say hello without introducing herself. She knows them, but not well.

  A minute later two more young women walk in, clearly part of a group with the first two women, and now I am almost wild with annoyance as I see all four lawyers slowly converge on these four younger women as everyone says hello and exchanges hugs and air-kisses while the bartender lines up some shots.

  Cynthia is still standing against the bar, part of the circle but at its edge. The lawyers are getting drunk, and it’s clear where their attention is shifting. I don’t blame them—I mean, Cynthia is hot, but she is a married woman. And these guys are all in their twenties, so it makes sense that they’re staring at these twenty-something single women and starting to ignore my wife.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter as I finish my fifth drink and shake my head and look down at the table in frustration.

  But when I look back up, I catch Cynthia glancing over at me, and this time she is holding the eye contact. She’s trying to tell me something, I realize. What, baby? What should I do? What do you want me to do?

  She blinks once and finally looks away from me. Now she takes a small step to her left, separating herself a bit more from the group as she places her glass on the bar and turns to look for the bartender.

  And then it hits me. Now I get it.

  So I take a deep breath and stand up, touch my hair for a moment, straighten my belt. Then I walk right across the room, slowly, carefully, like I am drunker than I really am (even though I really am a bit drunk).

  I am at the bar now, and I step close to my wife, my heart pounding at how crazy this is, how exciting it is, how arousing, how fucking WILD!

  And with a pronounced slur in my voice, I turn to Cynthia and loudly say:

  “Hey, baby. You come here often?”

  8

  “Are you serious?” Cynthia says to me, her eyebrows raised in an expression of perfect incredulity and annoyance.

  I shrug now as the blood pounds in my head. I can see that Marcos has noticed me and has turned to us, and Anders is looking this way as well now. So I push on, looking at my wife like she is a stranger.

  “Let me buy you a drink and I’ll show you how fucking serious I am,” I say to her, my voice getting louder, the slur more pronounced.

  “Hey, easy man,” says Marcos from the left of my wife. “She’s with us. Lay off, all right?”

  Now I glance over at Marcos and then back at Cynthia. I look down at Cynthia’s wedding ring, then back up at her face.

  “He’s not your husband, is he?” I say now, speaking even louder as I become aware that all four lawyers have shifted focus back to Cynthia and me.

  The bar itself is more crowded and getting louder, and the four women are watching us but are clearly not going to step in and say anything. Good, I think. Let these four studs play the alpha-male protectors right now. That should get their priorities straight.

  “Excuse me?” Cynthia says now. “How is that any of your business?”

  I blink and shrug, letting a smirk break on my face as I look at my wife. “Well,” I say, with a mock-confidence that I know comes across as sleazy. “He isn’t wearing a wedding ring, first of all. And he’s much too young for you anyway.”

  Cynthia opens her mouth wide in shock as I say this, and now Marcos steps in front of her. He does it quickly but carefully, touching neither Cynthia nor me.

  “All right, man,” he says in his weird Spanish-Italian accented voice that is a bit high-pitched. “I told you she’s with us, and that’s it. Get your drink and go stand somewhere else. Yes?”

  I try to look confused now. “What do you mean by ‘she’s with us’? She’s with all four of you?”

  I glance at the four lawyers now, making eye contact with each one. They are all staring right at me, their jaws tight, their eyes focused. That alpha-male instinct is rising in them, and I know they are feeling protective over my wife right now, which is exactly what I want.

  “She’s with all four of you?” I say again. “And none of you have wedding rings on, so I’m guessing none of you are her husband. So what the FUCK does it mean when you say she’s with all four of you?”

  Now Parker steps forward, right up to me, and I take a quick breath when I realize how tall he is. I mean, I am close to six feet tall, and I feel like a child next to him.

  “It means she’s with us,” he says in a perfectly calm, deep voice. He makes clear eye contact with me, and although his jaw is set tight, he is in perfect control of his emotions and aggression, I can tell. “So get your drink and move along.”

  Despite Parker’s calmness, I can feel some tension in the air now, and I blink and take one step back, smiling inwardly when I see that those four women have backed off now and are talking to each other. It seems like they weren’t planning to meet these lawyers here, and I figure they will head out somewhere else soon if I can keep these guys focused on protecting Cynthia’s honor from a sleazy drunk douchebag.

  I take a deep breath now and look back up at Parker, making eye contact with him once more. “It’s a free country,” I say. “All I did was offer to buy a woman a drink. And as far as I can tell, she hasn’t said no yet.”

  Now pin-stripe Jack from GQ steps forward, and he is clearly worked up and annoyed. “Hey, buddy, the answer is no, all right? Are you fucking stupid? Get the fuck out of here, man!”

  He is drunk and excited, his face red, his eyes flashing with energy. This guy would fight if given the chance, I realize. Good, I think. Hold on to that energy, Jack. I want to see you unleash that energy on my wife.

  Jack takes another step towards me now, and for a moment I wonder if he’s actually going to push me or something. I am a bit drunk too, and honestly, surrounded by these guys and standing here in front of my wife, there’s a part of me that WANTS to fight! Fuck, I think. Don’t be stupid. You need to hold on to that energy too. Use it later.

  But Jack is coming closer, and now he clumsily puts his drink on the bar like he needs both his hands for something. I can feel my heart beating faster, and I blink hard as my body tenses up and my fingers ball up into tight fists. Shit, I think as I hope Cynthia doesn’t just call a time-out and end this ridiculous scene. Don’t do it, Cyn. Let it play out.

  And just then, a long, lean man with thick blonde hair steps in front of Jack and puts both hands on his shoulders, stopping his trajectory instantly. It is Anders, and he looks at Jack for a moment and then slowly turns to me. His blue eyes are cold and his gaze is sharp, and now he forces a thin smile and nods his head slightly.

  “We were all just leaving,” he says in a firm monotone that sounds very German. “You have a good evening, sir.”

  9

  I am shaking with excitement as I settle my bill and head out of the bar. This couldn’t have worked out more perfectly. Not only did I g
et these guys to switch into tough-guy-protective mode, but I also got the entire group to head back upstairs to the empty office! Of course, all their stuff is still up there so they would have headed back eventually, but I am still proud of myself for getting them to go up right now, when emotions are still running high, the protective instinct still burning in these testosterone-filled animals.

  The building lobby is quiet and empty, though still brightly lit when I take the escalator up from the basement. There is a security desk near the elevators, but it is just a simple sign-in sheet process which I’ve been through many times before. The elevators are still unlocked and don’t need an access card since it’s not midnight yet. Cynthia’s office itself will need an access card to get in, but Cynthia told me it should be easy enough for her to let me in on her way to the restroom or something.

  So I stroll up to the guard desk, smiling at the bored security guy who looks Eastern European or something. I am about to sign in, but then I feel my phone vibrate and I back off to check. It is Cynthia, and I do a double-take and quickly answer.

  “Hello?” I say, wondering if she’s already waiting for me at the office door and is calling to see where I am.

  But there is no answer, and now I can hear voices come through and I realize that Cynthia has called me so I can listen in! Holy shit, YES!

  So I retreat to the waiting area at the far end of the lobby and drop into a big brown leather sofa, putting my feet up on the low glass table and smiling widely as I settle in to listen. It takes me a minute to realize that the five of them are actually standing outside the building, probably at the back entrance, having a cigarette.

  “Nah,” I hear Parker saying. “I don’t smoke those things.”

  “Suit yourself,” Marcos says as I hear the heavy metallic clink of a Zippo lighter. “Jack?”

  A pause and then Jack answers. “I’m more of a cigar man, but sure, what the hell.”

  Marcos laughs and that Zippo strikes again.

  “Anders?” says Marcos, and I imagine him offering the tall German a cigarette.

  “Thank you,” comes Anders’s deadpan voice. “But I have my own.”

  Everyone laughs now, and there is no talk for a few moments while the men get their smoke on. Cynthia hasn’t said a word so far, but I can tell she has something planned. Yes, she’s got something planned, or else she wouldn’t have called me to listen in.

  “Hey, I just wanted to . . .” Cynthia starts to say, and I feel a shiver go through me when I hear the tone of her voice. I know that tone—a bit of uncertainty, vulnerability, gratitude . . . and all of it probably wrapped in that look she used to give me in the early days, that look that I knew was an invitation. “I mean, what I’m trying to say is . . .”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Parker says now, his voice loud enough for me to tell that he is very close to my wife right now. “That guy was an asshole.” Now he pauses for a moment, and I feel my cock move as he speaks again. “And he was wrong, Cyn. You aren’t too old for us.”

  I hear Cynthia laugh now, that girlish, “Oh, you...” sort of laugh, and I can imagine her fluttering her eyelids, opening and closing her mouth, looking into Parker’s eyes right now, holding his gaze.

  There is a moment of silence again, and now Cynthia speaks. “Well, I have to admit that it felt nice when you guys said that I’m with you. All of you.”

  My heart is pounding as I listen to my wife speak, and I am already getting hard as I sit here in the empty lobby. Come on, Cyn. Take it one step further. Do it.

  And now I hear some static as Cynthia moves, and I hear a definite smack of the lips as Cynthia says, “Thank you, Parker.”

  And now a pause and then another smacking sound. “Thank you, Marcos.”

  Then “Thank you, Jack.”

  And finally one last loud smack and a, “Thank you, Anders.”

  I cannot see what’s happening, but I can hear the arousal in my wife’s voice. The men have not said a word, and I somehow sense that this was more than just a friendly kiss on the cheek. What, did she go up close to each one of them and kiss them on their lips? Did she brush her tits against their arms and chests as she leaned into them? Did she casually push her cushioned hips into their crotches as she thanked them? Or did she just reach down and rub each man’s cock to make sure there was no doubt?

  The possibilities are driving me wild, and I can barely breathe as I listen hard for confirmation that this party is about to move upstairs. Everyone is quiet, and I wonder what the fuck is going on! Has Cynthia dropped to her knees already? Is she unzipping Parker right now, out in the parking lot? Is Jack already pulling down her tights from behind? Marcos and Anders dropping their cigarettes as they reach for their cocks?

  I have no way of knowing, but whatever Cynthia’s doing must be working, because a moment later I hear Anders’s voice, soft and urgent.

  “We should go upstairs,” he says. “Everyone. Upstairs now.”

  10

  I stay in my seat as I hear their footsteps ring out through the empty lobby. They are approaching the elevators from the back entrance, so they will not pass me. Not that they would notice, judging by the fact that everyone is still silent, walking fast, like they all have someplace to go and something to do.

  Yes, like they all have something to do . . .

  I listen for the elevator doors to close, and then I wait five minutes before casually strolling to the security desk and signing in. Now I am in the elevator, and I think it must be the same one that Cynthia and the lawyers took, because I can smell them in here. Cynthia’s perfume is subtle but clear, and there is a mix of men’s cologne and the strong smell of cigarette smoke. The combination for some reason makes me excited, and I am hard again by the time the elevator doors open silently outside Cynthia’s office.

  The doors are glass and I can see inside. The lights are off throughout most of the office, and I exhale when I realize that yes, the place is in fact deserted. It is not a particularly large office, and as I press my face to the glass, I can see the brightly lit conference room at the corner.

  I pull out my phone, about to send Cynthia a text to let her know I’m outside. But I see that she has already sent ME a text! It says, “In the fake plant,” and I frown for a moment before looking around and seeing a floor-standing flower pot with an ugly fake plant in it over by the left side of the door.

  I walk over and poke around, and sure enough, there is my wife’s access card. She must have slipped it in there while walking in. Or maybe she did it earlier in the night. Who knows. Who cares.

  With shaking hands I let myself in, feeling like a fucking criminal as I creep along the inside wall, staying low against the dark walls of the empty cubicles. I glance up at the ceilings for cameras, but Cynthia told me they don’t have them in the office itself. This isn’t that kind of office.

  Not that it would matter anyway, I think as I approach the conference room, where I can see shadows moving against the bright overhead lights. Nobody’s committing a crime here. Cynthia and the lawyers are on their way out anyway, and what is the company going to do to me if they catch me on camera, if they catch ALL of us on camera!

  Now I am close, and I stop and try to control my breathing. The room is eerily quiet, and I feel a chill run through my body when I realize that this can mean only one thing. Yes, if no one is talking right now, it means that there’s nothing left to say.

  The conference room has glass walls on two sides, though the bottom half of the glass is frosted and opaque. So I creep closer now, cautious but still comfortable because the main office is still dark and thankfully does not have those motion-sensing lights that would give me away. Or maybe it does have those kind of lights and Cynthia turned off the switch beforehand. Who knows. Who cares.

  Finally I am up against the glass wall, crouched down low, and now I can hear sounds coming f
rom inside the room. Yes, I can hear sounds, and they are sounds and not voices.

  Oh, fuck, I think as I hear a soft whimper from my wife. Oh fuck, they’ve already started.

  And so now, after all the excitement and anticipation of the night, I slowly rise up, my cock stiff against my thigh, the blood pounding in my ears . . . yes, I slowly rise up, press my face against the cool glass, and start to watch my wife.

  Watch her with the lawyers.

  11

  Her jacket is off and her shirt is already unbuttoned, and my wife is backed up against a large wall-mounted whiteboard that is covered with notes scribbled in dry-erase marker. She looks fucking HOT with her silver blouse unbuttoned all the way down and untucked, her tight knee-length skirt looking black and shiny, her tights looking erotic as hell as they outline her round calves.

  Parker, the tall black man, is kissing her neck as he massages the flesh on her stomach, now gathering her right boob in his hand and squeezing as my wife moans and opens her mouth wide, taking in Parker’s long red tongue. Oh, shit, Cynthia, you look so fucking hot right now!

  Jack and Marcos are both sitting at the conference table, just watching in silence, half-smiles on their faces, legs spread wide under the table. Anders, who seems to be the boss or at least the senior lawyer, is standing at the end of the table, his elbow resting on the backrest of a chair, his eyes focused on Parker’s hands that are plucking at my wife’s nipples through her black bra.

  “Lift the bra cup,” Anders says in his deadpan German accent. “Let us have a look.”