They embraced and then her hands slid from his shoulders, down his back, landing on his waist. He kept his hands at her shoulders. “Ms. Hardin, I suggest, and only suggest, for this weekend that you stay away from the office and engage in other activities that you find fruitful. Please practice in the mirror saying, ‘I’m sorry’ with a sincere smile. It’s part of being a compassionate human.”
She erupted into violent sobbing, and he guided them to the couch where he rested her on his lap, comforting her as the crying escalated, her body shaking. She moaned and mumbled, and a thought flashed in his mind. “Ms. Hardin, are you just upset or is there a physical issue? Do you need medication?”
She drifted away from him, mopping her tears with his handkerchief that he offered. She took a slow breath in and let it out in huffs. “Nothing medical. I don’t know what took control of me. I couldn’t stop crying.” She stood and patted her clothes flat. “I’m sorry to have put you through that. You’re very kind.” Her stomach rumbled. “I’m famished.” Her eyes seemed to lose focus for a few seconds.
“Are you ill?”
“No, I—I don’t know what’s come over me. I feel drained and recharged at the same time. I can’t really explain it.” She shut off her computer, gathered her purse, and exclaimed, “Come to dinner with me. I usually eat alone but don’t enjoy it. That is unless you have other plans.”
He chuckled to himself. “I usually eat alone when I go out. I’m sure my mom has food at home.”
“Your mother lives with you?”
“I moved back with my parents; so did my brother. Long story, but this firm has a no-fraternization policy. I’ll have to decline your gracious dinner offer.”
She shot back, “It’ll be a business meeting.” There was a need on her face he couldn’t deny. He realized he needed to fill a void after her cathartic spanking and cry and she was a lovely, intelligent woman.
He nodded, and they headed for the parking lot. “Shall we go in one car to save gas? I can drop you home or back here.” She nodded, and they got in his car, driving to an upscale Italian restaurant ten minutes away. As they were seated in the crowded eatery, her face squirmed as she sat.
The older waiter in a tux greeted them with a nod and grand smile. “Here are menus and bread. May I get something to drink for you?”
Ms. Hardin said, “Your best Merlot, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She stiffened and barked at him, “Don’t call me that!”
The waiter lifted an eyebrow. Sol nudged her foot and touched his chin. Ms. Hardin’s eyes enlarged for a moment, and she looked toward the waiter. “I didn’t mean to snap, I just don’t like that term. I know you meant it to be polite.”
He nodded. “How shall I address you?”
“I don’t expect you to remember my name, just leave any titles off, please.”
“Whatever you wish, but if you tell me, I’ll remember.” A confident smile rose.
“I’m Ms. Hardin.”
“Yes, Ms. Hardin. And a drink for the gentleman?”
Sol returned the smile. “The same, Merlot, please.” They toasted when the wine was served.
Sol inquired, “Ms. Hardin, may I inquire as to why you dislike the word ma’am?”
“It’s for old women. I remember as a little girl when I first heard it; I was at the law firm, and my dad’s client was an old, sick, and weak woman. He called her by that word from time to time. I swore that day I’d never be like her.”
“And you know that’s a knee-jerk, emotional response?”
“It infuriates me!”
“Because you allow it. Do you think it’s somewhat silly that a word, just a word, can inflame the emotions of an elite attorney? You like to be in charge, but a simple word controls you. Since we’re on the subject, a person who gives up some control and allows others to make decisions is still in control by having made the decision.”
Ms. Hardin giggled. “I never looked at it in that manner. You have a way with words.”
Sol smiled, having made his point. Their gazes met and Sol’s mouth rose to a comfortable smile.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’re a beautiful woman and I wish you much happiness.” He sipped his wine.
A slight blush colored her cheeks. “What else is going on up there?” She pointed toward his head, giving a friendly smile.
He enjoyed the amiable conversation. “I like working at the firm. It has a tremendous potential.”
She inspected her wine glass. “I’d like it to be bigger and more active, but employees leave so much.” She laughed. “Because the captain continually torpedoes her own ship, huh?”
He sipped his wine and spoke as gently as he could. “Yes.”
“I see you’ve scheduled an office meeting for Thursday next week.”
“I expected that you were too busy to do it yourself.”
“Of course.” She sipped and looked at the table. “May I inquire as to why you’re living with your parents?”
“My brother and I moved back home after my dad was laid off from his long-term job. Brian and I figured instead of paying rent somewhere we could help out mom and dad.”
“But that must crimp your personal lives.”
“And we do it for our family. Brian spends a lot of time at his boyfriend’s place. Now that my parents’ mortgage is paid, I’ll move out soon.”
“If he’s not working, how did the mortgage get paid?”
Sol closed his eyes and caught himself biting his lip.
Ms. Hardin giggled. “You let a cat out of the bag. Tell me, please.”
“I recently settled with my old firm and I gave the money to my parents.”
“All of it?”
He nodded.
“That’s generous and loving. You’re such a good man.”
“Brian is too.” Sol laughed. “He’s always been a schmoozer, though. He’d go to my parents and say, ‘I know we can’t do this, but I don’t understand why’ and many times he’d get his way. He learned reverse psychology very young. I threw myself into brick walls to change them.” He smiled. “Brian’s an artist and struggling still.”
“Really? One of our clients is an art dealer. How good is Brian?”
“I can’t say. He’s my brother, ergo I love his work, I really do, but I can’t objectively say. His work is in a gallery in West San Jose.”
“There’s only one reputable gallery in this town, and that’s Barelli’s.”
“That’s where Brian works and who displays his paintings.”
“Dominic Barelli only puts quality art in his studio. I’ll alert our client to your brother’s work.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“My pleasure.” Then she gasped and smiled. “That was an automatic response, but I felt a warmth inside. It really is a pleasure to help someone.” Her mouth stood open in apparent awe.
The waiter arrived and placed a plate before her. “Ms. Hardin, here you are.” He served Sol. “Let me know if there’s anything else, sir.”
She smiled at him as though she’d just opened a great gift for a birthday. “You remembered my name. Thank you!” She shuffled in her seat as though relaxing into it.
Sol and Ms. Hardin fell into a casual chat that included telling stories from all their years in school. She was so animated and unreserved, talking with her free hand, her fork in the other, giggling and often touching Sol’s arm or hand.
He caught himself taking small bites of food and leaning close, waiting for another story or funny escapade. He enjoyed being with her and whenever she touched his arm or hand, it felt electrical and ecstatic, making him smile. He wondered if she’d ever been with a loving, caring, attentive man.
She told him of the time when just before a popular high school teacher retired, she was a teacher’s aide and she totally rewrote a quiz, substituting five silly questions, and the teacher passed them out. When the students returned them, the t
eacher laughed so loud, the principal heard it while he patrolled the hall.
At one point she had a bit of gravy on her chin and he took his time with his napkin to wipe it off for her.
Although they’d each had only one drink, walking to the parking lot he felt intoxicated in her presence. Scrape the façade away and hose off her stress and she was a lovely, intelligent, and funny lady. Back in his car, he offered, “Where may I drive you?”
“Home, please, to the high-rise condo complex on The Alameda. Do you know it?”
“Know it? I used to live there before I returned home.” She cocked her head at him in a curious manner.
He parked and they entered the lobby. He stopped and pointed. “That picture is one of Brian’s earlier pieces. The owner was kind to buy it at top price. Brian was elated.”
Ms. Hardin examined it. “And I’m sure you had no sway in that decision.” She winked. “This painting is tremendous. The old man holding the boy’s hand and they’re both crying leaving the cemetery. How sad. Who died?”
“That’s the irony, Brian doesn’t know who died. He had a vision and painted it in less than a week.”
“He has superb talent. First thing Monday I’m calling Mrs. Loquest, our client who’s an art dealer.”
They rode the elevator to her top-floor condo. “Please come in.”
He followed without objection.
She laughed. “It’s very messy. I get in moods.” She poured wine without asking him. They toasted.
He crowed, now seeing her in a totally new light, showing what a nice person she was. What a lovely woman she was. “To Hardin Law.”
She led Sol to the balcony overlooking downtown and out to the east foothills. “Solomon, I don’t know how or why you have power over me, but, well, what I’m trying to say is—” She sipped. “Thank you. You make me want to be a better person.”
“I saw that movie, Jack Nicholson, right, in As Good As It Gets?”
“Yes, but he said it to her, and the best movie lines come from real life.” He placed his hand gently on hers as her lips curled into a gentle smile. He was sure he heard a soft mew from her. He kissed her cheek and feathered his hand over hers as a flutter of warm emotions filled his chest. As he brushed his lips to hers, they pressed their bodies together.
He let his eyes drift closed. It would be a damned fool mistake to get personally involved, and yet there was something so gloriously special about her. He opened his eyes, and she was still there, with her gaze fixed on his. He said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend for anything like this. I think we’d both regret going farther.”
“I understand. There’s something special, almost magical, about you, Solomon Thornton.” She drained her glass. “May I ask that you put me to bed and tuck me in? I promise that’s all I ask. The front door will lock behind you when you leave. I can’t explain what’s going on in my heart and mind, but it’s scaring me.” She chuckled. “Maybe puberty is over and I’m growing up?”
Solomon followed her to the bedroom.
She stripped. “I sleep in the nude.”
He pulled the bedding back and she climbed in with a little girl’s smile. He reached for a three-foot teddy bear on a rocking chair and tucked it in with her, kissing her forehead. She crossed her hands over her chest. “Thank you.”
Their gazes met, and he moved in for another lip kiss, holding it several seconds.
Her broad smile rewarded him.
“How will you get your car from the firm?”
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Shall I come over at about ten and drive you?” He smiled at her as another wave of warmth filtered through him.
“Yes, please.” She seemed tired but happy.
He waved and left. Why did I offer that? This won’t go any farther, it can’t.
Chapter Eight
In search of the balance Solomon suggested that she seek, Janet slept late Saturday with an earnest effort to keep the firm from her mind. She barely was ready for Solomon at ten to retrieve her car, taking the time to put on a touch of makeup and a nice yellow sweatshirt with a picture of the sun and waves. The ride there was quite silent, but she felt comfort in his presence, a happy smile ever-present on her. It was like a team that communicated nonverbally. Solomon also wore a gentle smile and he seemed to be in a good mood, evidenced by humming a Beatles song. Obviously, neither needed to force conversation. It had been so long for her since she truly bonded with someone.
After she drove back home, she called her dad in his Florida winter home and had a marvelous talk, reliving times at the firm when she was in high school and college. When the call ended she realized a smile was plastered on her face, and with the associated warmth within, she decided to return to jogging. She found the old stopwatch she used to carry when she ran track and cross-country and berated herself for stopping. Attired in her old running gear, she felt comfortable and left her cell phone home.
As she jogged at a medium pace, Janet spoke aloud to herself. “Oh, this already feels good. Why did you ever stop when it serves your body and mind so well? Okay, girl, this will be a routine again. Let’s use some common sense, huh? How about half a mile, three times the first week. When we get home, we’ll have some tea and create a schedule.” She remembered some training she’d had on goal setting. Climbing the stairs at her building, she laughed up at the sky and then clapped a hand over her mouth. She turned around, embarrassed, to see if there were witnesses to her joyous outburst.
On Sunday, she awoke from a sexy dream that she couldn’t recall, but with one hand at her clit, rubbing it. She remembered Solomon tucking her into bed on Friday evening. She rubbed her swollen nub. “What is it about that man that makes me obey him?” She led herself into a fantasy with Solomon undressing her as she stood passively. He’d lower her to the bed, and she’d watch as he undressed slowly in a teasing manner. Her pussy would moisten, and her clit would tingle. She’d beg him to take her. She’d always hated that term, so often found in romance novels, yet, that’s what she craved. She spoke to the room. “Solomon, take me, use me, fuck me hard!”
She smiled and chastised herself at using the ‘f’ word. “Surely there’s an exception for sex. I’ll look it up in the law books on Monday.” She laughed aloud. Her fingers strummed her swollen clit as her breaths ramped up in pace and depth. She shrieked and came, stroking harder, arching her hips into the air. “Solomon!”
With a slower and softer effort, Janet kept fiddling her clit. She rolled over on her knees with her ass up. “From behind, Solomon; take me from behind.” Burying her head in the pillow, she grabbed a dildo from the nightstand drawer and shoved it into her pussy, tightening her muscles around it. “Solomon, make love to me.”
She gave light slaps to her ass and strummed her clit. With climax number two approaching, she took another, smaller rubber cock and slipped it into her ass. The double penetration along with a few more clitoral strokes sent her over the edge. “Yes, yes, oh, yes!” Electrical charges ran through her body, and especially through her pussy and ass. She shook and moaned and her spine tingled. She fell to her side exhausted, with the dildos still in her, and a fear-laden thought came to her: Would Solomon spank her on Friday afternoon for maintenance? At least that was tolerable. The punishment spankings were terrible. In self-sympathy she rubbed her ass as the memory of the pain that filled her. She flexed her PC muscles, causing a shot of lust with each one.
Monday she stopped at a Mexican bakery and treated her staff to an array of selections. She remembered how Maurice Moriarity, her godfather, would bring the Mexican treats to the house. Damn, why had she been a stupid impulsive girl to disenfranchise herself from him? Regrets filled her mind as the staff feasted on the treats. She barely heard their comments.
“Thank you, Ms. Hardin.”
“Yes, thank you so much.”
“Oh, I love these. We used to have them at home. What a treat!”
It pleased her to please them. Speaking w
ith a gentle voice she answered, “You’re all very welcome.” She headed to her office. A few minutes later, Solomon stood in her doorway. “Good morning, Solomon.”
“Good morning, Ms. Hardin. I hope you have a great week.”
Her face morphing into a deep smile. “Thank you, and the same to you.” He drifted off, munching a breakfast treat. What does he think of me? Does he see me as a woman or a recalcitrant bitch to be tamed? With a calming breath, she vowed to give him no reason to spank her while wondering why she had just described herself as a recalcitrant bitch.
On the spur of the moment, she decided she’d take no more spankings from him. He’d gotten the point across. Yes, she did need to improve her interpersonal tactics, but spanking an adult was just wrong. Yes, that’s what she’d tell him in a calm manner. And he’d say, “It’s also for errant attorneys.” She sighed. Oh, how he’d gotten under her skin. He always seemed so levelheaded. How did he control himself?
Monday and Tuesday flew by with few conflicts and no headaches. Her tongue mellowed with a reduced desire to imitate a sailor’s vocabulary. Wednesday morning was akin to the prior days, but at lunch Janet steered toward a vacant slot in a restaurant’s parking lot when a sports car cut her off and took the spot. Two young men jumped out and rushed inside with barely a glance toward Janet, who stopped behind their vehicle fuming.
Inside the crowded place, the hostess seated her too close to the bar and excess banter filtered into her private thoughts, many of them involving Solomon. The dim lighting made her strain to read the menu. The trivial annoyances conspired to create a headache.
Correcting Ms. Hardin Page 6
