by Evie Adams
He made sure to really lay it on thick too. Looking busy.
He made sure to be seen by me looking progressively more tired and busy. I saw him with one sleeve rolled up, then with both rolled up. Then the tie slightly askew, then unbuttoned collar, then hair out of place.
He spent his whole day looking tired out, all to push me off his schedule and avoid our meeting.
If he put half as much effort into the case, he would have been all set.
I ignored him as best as I could and did my work, and went to his office just before 5, and he was gone.
That prick!
That's okay, I know where he is.
I know him.
He's predictable.
(Back to Table of Contents)
CHAPTER 3 - JACOB
I reworked my closing all day, and pretended I didn't have time for her. It was good, but still not great. What I needed was to take my mind off the case, then it would come to me. I spent every waking moment for the last three months on this case, I needed a break, I needed a night off.
I needed to get laid.
It had been almost a week, since this case went into overtime, and I hadn’t had the chance to go out. That was what I needed, not some voodoo lady psychic.
I'm better than any cheap psychologist anyways. One of my many talents is sizing people up for juries, I'm the best. And all that stuff about 'Artie' and Falver was just management, motivation, Diane always made things sound worse than they actually are.
Barristers is the usual spot, and the bartender is awesome. There’s some sexual tension between us, but I'm not dumb enough to mess up a good thing.
A bartender with a long pour and who helps get me laid? There's no fucking way I'm screwing that up. In the past I have tried to screw the bartender, and it ruined a bunch of places for me. You don't shit where you eat. But Kate is cool. She's the only woman I've ever truly had a platonic relationship with, it's good for me and she's amazing.
And then I see her. My woman for the night. My distraction. My salvation to get me back on track. It was like the thunder clap, the lightning strike moment you see in movies but never happens in real life. I swear it happened.
The miracle. The moment where everything telescopes down around you.
I can only see her from the back, but her perfume, the smell of gardenias, wafts to my nose before she does. Her hair is long and dark, an inky darkness that shines. She's wearing a black business suit, not normally a sexy look, but she was wrapped up so tight in it, I wanted to peel it off her.
I swear I lost my breath for a moment when she turned. Her mouth is full and luscious, red lipstick, full lips begging to be ravaged. Her eyes are large and round and dark. The kind you want to get lost in. The kind you want looking up at you while she sucks your cock or have them rolling back into her head while you fuck her brains out.
Wait a minute, I know those lips, that ass, that present wrapped too tight.
Goddamn it. She followed me.
I had to squint to make sure it was really her, but that pissed off look on her face was unmistakable. “Are you a stalker or really psychic Laura?”
“I’m pissed off I had a meeting tonight blown off and need a drink instead of scratching his eyes out.”
“Have a drink and tell me all about it.”
“No, Jacob, we need to go over these cases.”
“I have the night off, from work and from you and the voodoo you do.”
“So well? I'm not leaving until we talk about the case.”
“I'm not talking about the case until I have a few drinks. And you know what? You're going to drink with me. I can't have you scowling at me like that. Have a drink, calm down. Relax.”
She looked at me, and for a moment I was afraid of getting my eyes scratched out by her, but that face would be the last thing I ever saw, that angry, hateful, sexy face. “Let me guess, white wine? Maybe a rum and coke?”
“You're good, you size people up like that? Let me guess you can always tell what a woman wants right?” She put down her guard for a second and sat in the seat next to me.
You have no idea. The only thing I need to know is they want me. “It's a talent I have. Being able to size up people in general. Then give them what they want. Usually we don't even have to speak, I can tell. It's the same with juries.”
“Maybe you need more practice, Jacob, I drink whiskey no coke, no ice.” Fuck, she's funny, she's never even pretended to be funny at work. It’s been so long since a woman actually made me laugh.
Immediate 10 points for being a whiskey drinker. “Maybe I do need more practice, how about you and me practice tonight?”
“'Tenacious, but over-confident in his abilities.' I'm not sure I'd like that in the bedroom. Besides, I have an early morning. Don't you?”
“I do, have to finish a closing argument in a big case actually, but I’ll be fine. I need a distraction from it tonight, that’s all.”
“A big closing, do you need a hand?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Sometimes a distraction helps. Sometimes a helping hand helps too. I don’t think I’d be very good company for you tonight, I had a big thing at the end of my day, and it got blown off. I hate inconsiderate assholes who do stuff like that.”
“Want me to beat him up?”
“Thanks for the offer, but not necessary, I hear he's a momma's boy. Wouldn't do any good.”
“Why don't we forget about him. Sounds dull. Let's have a drink,” I met eyes with Kate, and she came right over. Total pro, Kate ignored the mystery psychic woman and looked at me, “What can I get you?” with a warm smile.
“A whiskey, neat for Miss Miller.”
“I'll take a Jameson, thanks,” she told Kate.
“Sure.”
“She a friend of yours?”
“She's my bartender, a sacred relationship in my opinion. And I'm a friendly guy, so sure, everybody is my friend.”
“Let me guess, she helps you with women too? If you had to go take a phone call, she'd come over and tell me how great you are, you rescue puppies or help little old ladies cross the street, or are a fighter pilot in your spare time, something like that right?”
She said it so matter-of-factly I was at a loss for words for the first time in god knows how long. “Not with the way you look at me. She only does that for women who aren't hiding their attraction for me.” This was getting a little unnerving. How could she know all this about me?
That was an attack. Not mean, but definitely a warning shot. I didn't have time to be offended or try to figure out what she was doing, the only thing I could say, “What are you a psychic?” And at that moment, I actually wanted her to answer, I almost thought she might say yes. She gave one of those little smiles, and started to open her mouth, when Corinne, attacked me with a hug that almost took me off my chair.
“Corr, nice to see you.” And she immediately took up the space between me and Laura. Normally I'd be happy to see Corinne, a sweet little blond who frequents the place, and I've already taken her home twice, any more and she'll think it’s a regular thing and I don't want that.
“Corr, won't you meet my colleague, Laura,” Corinne wouldn't even acknowledge her. She was staking her claim to me for the night.
“Corr, I have some work to do first. Why don't we have a drink later?” She whined and protested, but eventually left us.
“You were about to reveal your psychic powers to me?” I asked her.
“I used to be a bartender. You ever suspect she does that so you don't hit on her? That she's not interested and does all of this because she's nice first, but second she doesn't want another guy coming around trying to sleep with the bartender? That's why I did it. Partly because I was nice, but mostly because I wasn't interested.”
“Stop. If we talk about work will you quit shaking my confidence? I’ll need some left tomorrow. Come on, we’ll use the office.” I motioned to Kate if it was okay to use the manager’s office in back.
I had helped them out a few times, and sometimes, I got some work done back there. Kate looked at me, then at Laura, I guess to make sure I didn’t have some other purpose to bring a woman into the office, but she saw the scowl on Laura and nodded okay.
“So no one else sees you with me?”
“I do have a reputation to uphold.”
(Back to Table of Contents)
CHAPTER 4 - Laura
When I walked in the place I wanted to scream at him. But the way he looked at me, his eyes getting wide, hopeful, narrowing to a point as he recognized me.
He stood me up, lied, and now was forcing me to drink at a bar after work. I should have killed him, quit, left, done. But I didn't.
By the third drink, his charm was killing my resistance. When everything was off, he was charming, an asshole, but a charming asshole.
I knew I should run from an arrogant prick with an Oedipus complex, but I stayed, and drank, and noticed the dimples at the corner of his mouth after he said something, and his yes flash at me, they were slaying my resistance.
Thank fully he kept being an asshole.
The back room was small and cramped and we were forced to sit way too close to each other, huddled over the small desk. I smelled leather and musk when he took his jacket off and soap when he loosened his collar and rolled up his sleeves. It was making me dizzy.
We agreed not to go over his closing, but a different case first and see if that shed any light on Josh's case. The case was another personal injury. This time an animal attack. Some rich old lady had a jaguar for a pet in her 2000 square foot penthouse. She was the kind of lady that would leave millions to a pet dog or something. A strange eccentric who thought rules didn't apply to her.
It snapped and attacked the maid one day, mauled her, almost killed her. Terrible, but the lady had deep pockets, so good for our client, the maid.
Usually for pets, like a dog, you get one bite free. As soon as the animal bites or attacks a person, then it becomes a dangerous animal, and the owner has to take precautions, chain it up, train it, muzzle it, some sort of protection for the rest of the people on the planet.
Until it bites or attacks, its assumed to be a pet like any other, not inherently dangerous, but once it bites or attacks once, it's like having a loaded gun around.
But for an actual wild animal like a jaguar, the law treats it like a loaded gun right away.
“We have a good case. But the jury still needs to see it our way,” I told him.
“The jury is unimportant, the facts are all we need.”
“They still need to care for our client more than the lonely old lady or the animal. First, it was cruel to cage a wild animal like that up in a small New York apartment. Something used to hunting over 100's of acres of the rainforest boxed up in a small apartment with New York City ambulances, police, and other noises driving it crazy. We need a jury that can feel bad for the animal, and hold it against the owner. ”
His aggression flashed, unfettered. His naked forearms grazed my hands as he flipped the pages of my report closed, “This case isn't about any of that. It's about a dangerous animal, strict liability. It's about a juror who is not an idiot and can see having a jaguar in a 2000 square foot Manhattan penthouse is like smoking a cigarette while pumping gas in your car. Pure stupidity! You may get away with it a few times, 9 out of 10 times, but you ask for trouble. The one time out of 10 blows you and the gas station up. This isn’t about finding a juror who has cat sweaters or finds them cute. You want me to strike a juror because she likes cats? Are you fucking insane or just severely stupid?”
I could have slapped him, but this was part of his strategy, to rile me up, to piss me off, to make me lose my cool. It wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t work any more. I stomped on my emotions and calmed my voice, “I'm saying you need to question the jurors about their pets. Some people like animals more than people, and there’s nothing really wrong with that. It’s understandable, people fuck you over, let you down, disappoint you and worse. Animals are simple, they offer unconditional love in return for food, shelter, and occasional kindness. Very simple. But our ideal juror in this case, will, like you said, look at this case like the animal was a dangerous weapon, a loaded gun, a cigarette while pumping gas. They won't look at it like a companion for a lonely old woman who had been let down by people her whole life and turned to animals. All the defense has is just that. Kind stories, adorable pictures of her and the animal, evidence of their relationship, how it never hurt her, so therefore the plaintiff, our client must have been aggressive towards the animal or the sweet old lady or both. That's the defense, that's all they have. To blame our client and hope someone feels more for the animal and the old lady than our client. We need people who will not. Who will see the lit cigarette next to 1,000 gallons of gas.”
He stood and leaned into me, over me. “So now you want a jury full of animal haters? Should I ask them if they ever kicked puppies? If they ever drowned kittens in a sack in a river? Stuck fire crackers in frogs buts? You want serial killers on my jury?”
I stood up to face him, I’d be damned if he stood over me and yelled, trying to intimidate. “No, psychopaths don't care about animals or people.”
“You want a jury that doesn't watch animal planet? That's the sum of your legal analysis and psychological profiles? People who don't find animals cute means we win the case? How much are we paying you for this idiocy?”
I slapped him. All of the coolness, all of the self-control went away. He deserved it. He deserved worse. It was either kiss him or slap him or kill him or fuck him.
A feral grin appeared on his face, he had won, got what he wanted, he closed the inches between us in an instant, those soft lips on mine, those forearms on my hips.
It wasn't the selfish sort of kiss I expected. It was passionate, insistent, and powerful. The kind of kiss you dream about, as he held me, squeezed me almost forced the breath out of me as his tongue plundered my mouth.
His hand was on my bra and mine reached for his belt, his hands grabbed my ass and lifted me effortlessly on the desk. I felt powerless in his arms. I felt his cock hard in my hands, punching through his pants, ready for me. He broke off my mouth and began kissing my neck, from my ear lobe on down, the top of my neck he kissed and sucked, licked, when he breathed in I got a cool sensation on the part of my neck that was wet with his saliva, then a moment later, his hot breath flamed over the same spot and gave me chills, like this he kissed lower and lower, my mind fluttered between what he was doing to my neck, and to what his hands were doing on my ass and the other hand, surprisingly, found its way to my bra and unclasped it in a flash, it felt like he had four hands all after my body, overwhelming me. My skirt was too tight to allow me to spread my legs and take his hips closer, so he pushed it up and grabbed my hips, crushing the black silk of my panties directly against the heat of his erection. I could feel it through his pants, as we rocked together.
"Oh god," I moaned softly when he broke off to stroke my breasts through my dress, kissing the swell of my cleavage. I could see the hunger in his eyes when he looked up at me.
He slipped a hand behind my neck, pulling my mouth down to his, kissing me breathless. When I slid my hand between us to feel the length of his cock through the thin material, he groaned against my mouth, arching up. I couldn’t stand it.
Jesus I wanted him to fuck me, to bend me over the desk, rip my skirt up, push my panties to the side and take me, fuck me before I thought about it.
But too late.
“No, we can't.” I moaned and slid away.
“Of course we can. People do this all the time. It’s natural.” He groaned.
“That’s not what I mean.” I slid off the other side of the desk, away from him, I half hoped he would jump over it and stop me, but he slammed his hands down and leaned forward.
“I don't want to fight with you or work with you. I just want to fuck you. This right here, right now is the only thing in the who
le world. I've never wanted to fuck someone so bad.”
I couldn’t do this. My body and my mind went so crazy I didn't know what to do.
I slapped him again.
His face showed surprise, then aggression again, he looked like a caged animal, he could barely control himself. And if I stayed for a single second longer, neither could I.
I left without my case notes, the files, without anything, I left the office and the bar and the street.
I wished he hadn't stopped.
(Back to Table of Contents)
CHAPTER 5 – JAKE
I expected tears, I insulted her intelligence, her job, her credentials, the only things left for me to do was pull her hair, call her fat, or tell her her shoes didn't match the rest of her outfit. Stupid and childish, I know, but this woman made me want to hit my head against the wall. It was supposed to be a nice night, where we talk quietly, have a few drinks and maybe, just maybe I get laid.
She was ruining my plan.
There were no tears, no wavering in her confidence or contempt for me. All I got was a flash of white, and red pain as she slapped me. When the pain hit, I didn't want to slap her back, no I wanted to do much worse.
I kissed her, hard, long, wet, she kissed back.
Then she ran away.
I went out, and she was making her way out onto the street, as she pushed against the glass door, she looked back, I smiled at her, she breathed out hard, as if she had just made a huge mistake, and pushed against the door.
Still got it.
I walked to the bathroom, I ran the cold water and looked in the mirror. A little red from the hit. More red from the smudged lipstick.
I could smell her still, feel those soft lips almost trembling as they met mine.
Focus.
I washed my face in the cold water and calmed down.
