by Tiana Laveen
“I’m sorry… They’ll all be gone in the next few hours.” He helped her to her feet.
“Don’t be sorry. It was well worth it.” She eyed his wet cock, which swung between his legs, dripping with cum and her essence. The woman dropped to her knees, taking him off guard, and engulfed his dick in her mouth, giving him an instant erection once again. Slamming his back against the wall, she noisily slurped and sucked his length as he grabbed the back of her head and fucked the hell out of her mouth, pumping upward, driving himself in and out of her at rapid speed.
“Suce-moi la bite! FUCK!” He shot his creamy load, snatched his cock out, and watched her swallow his velvety special delivery. “I’m not fuckin’ done with you. Let’s take this to my bedroom and resume.”
Smiling, he helped his mate onto her feet and they walked out of the dining room, hand in hand. He imagined they looked much like Adam and Eve at that point, unapologetically naked… after all, he was now joined with his rib. Hopefully the only serpent to come between them would be his dick. On their way past the living room, he spotted Whiskey sitting on a chaise, talking on the phone. He barely noticed them.
“Whiskey,” Alexandre called out.
The man immediately placed his phone down and jumped to his feet.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Move Venus’ things into the master suite. My bride will be staying with me from now on out…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Court is in Session…
Everything is a game to be won. I refuse to fucking lose—that’s not an option. Please don’t let this suit and my smile fool you. Nice guys finish last, and I’m always in first place. I will play dirty to get what I want, for that is the way of a warrior, a master, a Royal Pure Blood vampire, an elite Royal Le Roi Du Sang…
“I’m not here for the bullshit,” Alexandre Marseille whispered to his client before he casually stood from his seat in the courtroom, buttoned his two-toned tan jacket, and made his way to the witness stand.
Time to put an end to this open and shut case.
“Good morning, Mr. Rutherford.” Alexandre placed his hand on the railing of the podium before the older man, then leaned slightly forward and smiled.
“Good morning,” the defendant stated without a smile, looking him up and down with an uneasy eye. The older man wore a thin navy blue and pale yellow checkered sweater over a wrinkled white shirt. Mr. Rutherford was no one’s eye candy or eye sore. In fact, he looked rather unassuming, with nothing notable about him in either direction. He was the type of man that wouldn’t be remembered in a crowd or even on an elevator, among a handful of people. His features weren’t keen or exaggerated. He had nothing that made him different, such as a cluster of light brown freckles, an ill placed beauty mark in the center of his chin, or keloid scar above the brow. He was simply existing—a ho hum specimen. Maybe all of this played a role in how the cards had been dealt, becoming partly the reason why they were here today.
Their eyes locked and Alexandre cocked his head to the side and slipped within him, like a ghost through a wall…
What are your weaknesses, old man? What are your fears? Come on, fucker… Tell me… Tell me… Tell me… Oh, beautiful… look what we have here…
He slapped the desk, looked towards the jury, then back at the man.
“Mr. Rutherford, you stated that, on August 11th, Mr. Laurent came to your place of business, Rutherford Furs and Leather, asking to speak to his estranged wife, Mrs. Amanda Laurent, and was refused. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Amanda was in the back taking care of some inventory,” the man stated with a thick Brooklyn accent. “I was in the front of my store and he came in there yellin’ to talk to her, then threatened tuh shoot me when I told him no.”
“Mmmm hmmm, I see.” Alexandre smiled and began to slowly pace back and forth. “So, why did you refuse to let him speak to his wife?”
“Amanda said he’d been doin’ strange things, harassin’ her.”
“Amanda had told you, in her own words, that her husband, Mr. Laurent, was harassing her before this all occurred, correct?”
“Yes.”
“She used the actual word, ‘harass’?” Alexandre put his fingers in quotation marks.
“Yeah, she said stalked, actually… said he was stalkin’ her.”
“Did she give you any examples of this stalking that was allegedly taking place?”
“Yes. She said just two weeks beforehand, I believe, he was drivin’ on the street outside her house, going back ’nd forth and honking.”
“Mmm hmmm, but he still lived there. There was no restraining order and his name was on the lease. However, playing Devil’s Advocate, let’s say that she in fact said that her husband was stalking her. How do you know for a fact that Mr. Laurent was driving back and forth while honking his horn?”
“Speculation. Amanda Laurent is not on the witness stand,” the DA stated from behind his table, the man rolling his eyes as if tired of his shenanigans.
“Okay, please strike the question,” Alexandre intervened before Judge Camus got involved. Amanda Laurent’s mother was deathly ill, and she was unable to attend court. They were all on their own. “Let me ask this a bit differently… Did your employee, Amanda Laurent, seem afraid of her ex-husband?”
The defense attorney jumped up from his seat. “Hearsay!”
“No, it’s not hearsay,” Alexandre stated as he turned towards the DA. “This was an active, working relationship, not hearsay. One can infer several observations that lead to credible conclusions from a person’s behavior, especially an employee that Mr. Rutherford has had working for him for over two years. Working that closely, day after day, would allow someone to safely conclude whether a behavior or statement was out of character. We are here referring to Mrs. Amanda Laurent’s personality, moods, and tendencies.”
“Overruled.”
“Thank you. So, I will repeat the question, Mr. Rutherford. Did Amanda Laurent seem afraid of her husband?” The man sat there for a moment, fidgeting.
“Well, Amanda is the type of woman who doesn’t really express emotion that way, you know? So, uh, she didn’t use those words per se but I knew that she was.”
“Mr. Rutherford, if you have an employee who has told you that her husband is driving past her home uninvited, is calling her at all hours of the night begging for reconciliation, and giving unsolicited gifts, all of which she told you of in great detail, according to your own previous testimony, why wouldn’t she also state that she was in fear?”
“I, uh, I don’t know, but I think it’s obvious that she was. You could just figure it out.”
“It’s obvious? You could just figure it out? Mr. Rutherford, I’m not convinced that it is so obvious. I believe you are hiding something.”
“I object! Mr. Marseille’s comments are pure conjecture and we are not here to get an opinion!”
Alexandre’s lips curled in a smile. “I asked Mr. Rutherford if Mrs. Laurent ever stated that she was afraid of her husband. I didn’t ask for his opinion, observations, or his own judgment regarding this specific matter. I asked if the plaintiff’s wife ever stated verbally to him that she was in fear of my client, Mr. Laurent.” Alexandre wore a smug expression as the Judge ruled in his favor. “Okay, let’s continue… Mr. Rutherford, I am concerned about some information that leads me to believe you haven’t been truthful in this courtroom today.”
“Dishonest? I am tellin’ the truth! That son of uh bitch had Amanda ’fraid to death!”
“Mr. Rutherford, please watch your language,” the judge stated.
Mr. Rutherford nodded, duly chastised.
“Afraid to death? Hmmm… interesting choice of words. No vested interest? Okay. I am presenting into evidence, Exhibit C.” Alexandre marched swiftly to his table where his client sat, picked up a folder and returned to stand before Mr. Rutherford. “I want you to take a look at a log of text messages between Amanda Laurent and my client, Gregory Laurent. Please, so that the courtroom
can hear you, read the date and the text messages between Amanda and Gregory Laurent.”
The man swallowed, picked up the file, and began to read aloud.
“August 13th… uh, this is Amanda speaking I guess… It says, ‘Hi, Greg. We can have dinner later tonight.’”
“And what is Gregory Laurent’s response?”
“Um, it says, ‘Okay, baby. Thanks for inviting me.’”
Rutherford kept reading the messages for several minutes, the people in the room taking it all in.
“Now, does that sound like a woman who is being harassed or stalked, Mr. Rutherford? Does it sound like a woman who is afraid for her life, scared to death, as you phrased it? Does it sound like a woman who has no interest in her husband?” He began to pace back and forth, looking over at the jury a time or two. “Does it seem as if she believes her estranged husband is bonkers? Crazy? Out of his mind?”
“She was just trying to make peace with him for their daughter’s sake!”
“Wrong!” Alexandre swung back in Mr. Rutherford’s direction. “You didn’t want them back together because you and Amanda were having an affair, and when Mr. Laurent walked into your store to take her out for lunch that fateful day, you became enraged, removed your gun from behind the counter, and shot him in the arm!”
The judge began to violently beat the gavel. “Mr. Marseille!” Judge Camus yelled gruffly.
“Your honor, I have proof that Mrs. Amanda Laurent and Mr. Rutherford were having an affair and that Mr. Rutherford did everything in his power to seek revenge once Amanda called it off between the two of them and tried to reconcile with her husband.”
“Well, I suggest you present it right now and stop turning this courtroom into a three-ring-circus!”
Alexandre opened the folder once more, removing a few sheets of paper detailing a series of text messages between Rutherford and Amanda Laurent. He slapped them down in front of the witness.
“Read them.” Rutherford’s complexion deepened. With a shaky hand, he picked up the paper and began to scan the words. “Aloud.”
“We were not having an affair!” the man yelled as he flung the papers down onto the stand. “I cared about Amanda, all right?! That’s it! You are trying to pervert it!”
Alexandre pulled out a second copy of the text messages from the folder and began to recite them loudly:
“March 1st – ‘Amanda, I love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. You make me feel young again.’ March 3rd – ‘Your body is so scrumptious. Oh, the things I will do to you!’” The jury begun to murmur amongst themselves. “‘March 4th – ‘My cock is so hard for you. I bet you’re wet for me, too. March 5th – I got us a hotel room at the—”
“STOP IT!”
“I got us a hotel room at the Four Seasons… June 8th – ‘Why haven’t you come into work today?’… June 21st – ‘Your husband called. Are you sleeping with him again? After everything I’ve done for you… June 22nd – ‘You fucking bitch. I have sacrificed everything for you and you turn around and—”
“I SAID STOP IT!!!” The man rose from his seat, shaking his fist, full of rage.
That’s it… Fall the fuck apart in front of all of these people. Unravel, come undone. I’m going for the homerun, baby. I can’t afford for these simpletons to fall for the old man in love and good Samaritan bit, either. There’s a lot of money on the line. I want your entire fucking savings. ATTEMPTED MURDER. We’ve got to make this shit official. Your fear was the truth getting out, that you’ve been fucking around on your wife with the help.
Rutherford pointed his finger at Laurent, Alexandre’s client. “He was abusive to her! She was afraid!” the old man yelled, his voice trembling. His eyes bucked and his cheeks were now bloody red.
“No, you were afraid that you were going to lose access to that twenty-four year old woman! In fact, the day of the shooting was her last week working there. She’d put in her notice. You blamed Mr. Laurent for doing what men are supposed to do when they’ve lost someone they love, someone they’ve committed to – fight for her. You pulled out a gun and tried to kill this man!” He pointed to his client.
“No… No! He said he was gonna shoot me! I feared for my life!”
“The evidence shows otherwise. He had no gun on him when the ambulance and police arrived. You shot at him twice. You missed the first time, and the second went into his arm and now he cannot lift it, nor will he ever be able to again according to two different doctors, who’ve already submitted their medical reports.”
“I didn’t cheat on my wife!” Rutherford looked out into the audience, his eyes landing on his spouse. “That was just talk! We were just horsin’ around. I never had sex with Amanda!” The woman’s eyes were crimped at the edges, her lips downturned, and a mixture of confusion and hurt was etched on her ruddy face. Alexandre pulled out an envelope filled with receipts and dumped them onto the podium before the witness.
“Let’s see here…” He picked one up from the pile. “Apparently you like to write off just about everything for your taxes, Mr. Rutherford. No worries, your secret is safe with me. We’ve got dinner receipts at Per Se on Colombia Circle. Funny, for cross reference, there is video footage of you and Mrs. Amanda Laurent entering the establishment on the exact same date! What a coincidence, don’t ya think?! I don’t know about you, but I would never spend that sort of money on someone I wasn’t getting any honey from.”
“Mr. Marseille! This is your final warning.”
“I apologize, Judge Camus. My point is, there is more where this came from. Mr. Rutherford. My question is, ‘Were you having an affair with Ms. Amanda Laurent?” He glared into the man’s eyes… lulled him towards his trap, caught him in a snare.
Say it… say it… say it. Tell the truth. Tell the truth or your wife will leave you. Look at me, motherfucker. That’s right, keep staring into my eyes. Your wife will divorce you if you lie. She’ll take the rest of the money you have, find out about the accounts you think no one knows about. Tell the truth, Pinocchio. Tell it ALL. You were fucking Amanda. You were taking Viagra and your wife thought it was for her, complained it wasn’t working, but it worked all right… you were fucking that pretty young thing… spending all that money on her. And then, she took that sweet, tight pussy away and tossed it right back in her young, brawny husband’s face. Get out of this while you can. You won’t even serve much time, old timer. TELL. THE. FUCKING. TRUTH.
Rutherford’s eyes glossed over and he slumped back down in his seat, looking utterly defeated. He said nothing for several seconds.
“Mr. Rutherford, can you please answer Mr. Marseille’s inquiry?” Judge Camus questioned.
“Yes… Amanda and I were romantically involved.”
The entire courtroom buzzed with raised voices and outbursts. The judge grabbed the gavel and slammed it.
“Order!”
“She told me that she wanted to get back together with her husband…” The man’s eyes watered as he looked over at his wife, then at the jury. “I was upset about it. Her husband came into the store to take her out to lunch… and then… and then I just… I just lost it.” He ran trembling fingers through his thin salt and pepper hair. “I reached for my gun and I shot him. I didn’t mean it! I just… snapped!”
Several minutes later, Alexandre was standing beside his client, giving him a hearty handshake. Mr. Rutherford was being placed in handcuffs and the courtroom was abuzz. The local news was going to have a field day with this…
Old man with lucrative fur and leather business falls prey to some young beaver… It’ll getcha every time.
Alexandre exited the courthouse, making his way to his car after seeing his client off. His cellphone rang, and he smiled. He opened his white BMW car door and slid inside before answering it.
“Venus… what can I do for you, my Love?” He turned on his stereo to hear the sounds of Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg singing ‘Je T’Aime, Moi Non Plus.’
“I am in b
etween classes. I wanted to thank you for not making a big deal about me wanting to visit my friends yesterday. I needed the break,” she said on a sigh.
“You’re not a caged bird, baby. Besides, you’ve been doing quite well with your training. I trust you… well, to some degree.” He smirked as he pulled out of his parking spot.
“You don’t trust me at all.” She chuckled.
“What would make you say that?” His brow rose in curiosity, though she was right.
“Because the night we met, at the party, you sliced into the back of my neck with your finger and it still hasn’t fully gone away.”
“Ahhh, yes, the tracking mark so you’d be easier to find in case you got any grand ideas of running away.” He laughed. “After all of that time, I couldn’t risk not finding you again, Venus. You were afraid of me. What did you expect me to do?”
“I want it removed. You have what you want… I’m not going anywhere. We’re together, willingly. You know that I care about you.”
“Yes, I know that you do.” He deliberated over her words for a spell. “I tell you what, I will remove it after our trip to Paris. Once you meet the few remaining members of my Coven, you may try to leave me. You think I’m a piece of work? You really haven’t seen anything yet!”
She chuckled at that.
“How did court go today?”
“Fantastic! I got a full confession.”
“Right there on the witness stand? Wonderful. Good!”
“Yes it is… That old man is going to pay me and my client quite well. Funny though, my client and his wife think they’re smart… I’ve been on to them from day one.”
“On to them? What do you mean?”
“Sweetheart, remember this if you never recall anything else I ever tell you. Question everything, and then question it again. My client and his wife set this guy up.”
“What?!”
“Once the old, horny bastard showed interest in the wife, they realized they had a golden egg. I doubt they believed it would go this far, but she figured she could squeeze some money out of him, and she did… over $40,000 in gifts, loans that have never been paid back, trips, you name it. When she got tired of fucking him for the funds, she pulled out of the arrangement and the guy blew his top. Case. Fucking. Closed.”
