by Roy Glenn
Body Of Evidence
by Roy Glenn
© Copyright Roy Glenn 2012
Smashwords Edition
Escapism Entertainment
Atlantic beach, Florida
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
1
“You are so fuckin’ fine,” Marcus said then licked his lips.
“You want me?” Adriana asked, in a voice that dripped sex with every word.
Adriana was on a serious mission. She was in heat and in serious need of release. The kind of release that would make her eyes roll up into the back of her head. She started making circles around Marcus’s nipples and then quickly flicked her tongue at one. She inched closer to him and put her leg in between his legs and his body shook.
“I do,” Marcus said as he took a finger to his lips, and then used the thick moistened finger to reach between her legs, zoning in on her clit. “You like that?” he asked as Adriana closed her eyes and started thrusting herself onto his hand. She was wet and ready. Marcus leaned over and eased his finger inside her. He teased her breasts slowly making circles around her nipples with his tongue.
As Adriana lay on the bed, Marcus reached between her legs and fingered her clit. Unable to find coherent words, Adriana had to do something with her hands. She quickly grabbed then massaged his length, and moaned her approval at what he was making her feel with his hands. Marcus gripped her thighs with both of his hands, and then situated her body in perfect position. He allowed his hands to roam along the length of her body, admiring the silky feel of her skin. Adriana slowly lowered his head closer to her.
“Take me, Marcus,” she moaned.
Marcus slid his tongue inside her and sucked her moist lips gently. Her clit grew harder as he licked her with the tip of his tongue. Adriana’s body began to quiver. “Ooooh!”
Adriana put a condom on him, got on top and rode him slowly. Grinding her hips and using her muscles until Marcus was so deep inside her that her body trembled again. “Ooooooh!”
Adriana rolled off of Marcus, breathing hard. He stood, stepped up behind her, and bent Adriana over, entering her slowly. She began moaning, squirming and winding her hips.
“Get this pussy, Marcus,” Adriana screamed, taking every inch of him inside her warmth.
When she didn’t think he could go any deeper, Marcus grabbed Adriana by the shoulders and thrust himself farther inside. Her pussy was so soft and wet, he couldn’t resist pounding on that ass furiously, enjoying the view of Adriana's near perfect ass.
“Your dick is so hard,” she said through clenched teeth. She could barely control her passion as she bucked her ass, pounding it against him. Her muscles locked and her head drifted back in ecstasy. “Ooooooooh,” she moaned again.
Adriana collapsed on the bed and Marcus lay next to her. She touched his face, and Marcus ran his hand over her soft skin. She rolled into his arms then kissed his lips. Shortly there after, she was a sleep, leaving Marcus rock hard, unsatisfied and thoroughly disgusted.
Marcus looked at Adriana as she slept. She was a beautiful woman at five feet eight inches tall, shoulder length hair, pecan tan and thick, but not fat by any stretch of the imagination. But what attracted him to her was her eyes. Marcus always had a thing for a woman’s eyes. Adriana’s eyes were very intense, and when she looked at him, her look was intensely sexual.
Marcus met Adriana earlier that evening at a cocktail party given by the Atlanta Chamber of Commerce. All night long, Adriana had been watching Marcus as he moved around the room, talking with the invited guests. Before the night was over, she had cornered him and struck up a conversation. It didn’t take long for the pair to connect.
They both agreed that the event was boring, and it was time to call it a night. Being the gentleman that he was; Marcus offered to walk Adriana to her car. They exchanged numbers and email addresses with a promise to stay in touch, after which the two shared their first kiss and ended up at his house.
Now the act was over, and Adriana had drifted into that place where thoroughly satisfied women go and was dead to the world. This wasn’t the first time Marcus had put a woman to sleep before he got his. In fact, he was used to it. Marcus was always the pleaser in his sexual encounters. There were only two exceptions to the rule: he married and divorced the first one, the other was Carmen Taylor.
2
Panthea Daniels put down the book she was reading and sat patiently in her living room staring at the ceiling. Her bedroom was directly above her and Panthea could hear her husband, Scott getting ready to go out for the evening. It was the third night that week he had gone out, always returning well into the early hours of the morning. Panthea was no fool, she believed in her heart Scott was having an affair. She just couldn’t prove it—at least not yet. When she heard him coming down the steps, she got up.
“Where are you going?” Panthea asked. When he stopped to acknowledge her, Panthea blocked Scott’s path to the door.
“I have a meeting with a client,” he said quickly. “Just dinner, drinks and an endless amount of business talk. I won’t be gone long,” Scott said and then tried to go around Panthea, but she wasn’t having it. She stepped in front of him again.
“This is the third time this week, Scott. This is starting to get old.”
“I know, baby. But Abraham likes to have these dinner meetings. What can I tell you; the guy loves to eat. You know how important this is?”
“Yeah, I do, but—,” Panthea started.
“You know how big a deal this is gonna be for me—for us, baby.”
“I understand, but I was hoping that we could do something tonight,” Panthea lied.
The truth was the only reason she was concerned was because she figured he was having an affair. Otherwise, she would be just as content to spend the evening with a good book and a glass or two of wine. The spark had gone from their relationship; at least it had for her. Apparently it had for Scott too.
Panthea had met Scott when she first moved to Atlanta from Texas. At the time, Scott was in construction, and his business was just getting ready to take off. He swept Panthea off her feet, wined and dined her, showered her with expensive gifts and weekend getaways. They married one year to the day from the day they met. The wedding was fabulous, and afterwards, they caught a flight to Los Angeles then boarded a cruise to the Hawaiian Islands. That was eight years ago.
Things really took off for Scott in the years that followed. He expanded his construction business and moved in to real estate developing. As business boomed, Scott had less and less time to spend with Panthea. It bothered her at first. Panthea had become accustomed to Scott treating her a certain way and now things had changed between them. Scott was always busy and rarely home. After a while, Panthea adjusted and found things to occupy her time and her mind. She never thought he was cheating on her, until now.
A woman just knows these things.
“Do you wanna come with me?” Scott asked, knowing what she’d say.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. I know how much you hate these business dinners. You’d just be bored, and it really does get to be a distraction.”
Panthea’s eyes narrowed. “What gets to be a distraction, Scott?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“Come on, Panthea, you know how you get. First you get fidgety and start playing with the silverware, and the
n comes those deep, have-pity-on-me-and-take-me-home sighs. You remember the time you were tapping the water glass with your knife and knocked it in Paulson’s lap?”
Panthea smiled to herself remembering that she did it on purpose and how effective it was. They left the restaurant shortly after. “That’s not the point, Scott, and you know it.”
“What is the point, Panthea? Because I really don’t see it.”
“You wanna know what the point is? It’s these late night meetings. I don’t understand why you can’t meet him during the day?” she asked.
“Abraham is a very busy man. I guess he’s busy all day. But next time, I’ll insist that we meet during the day. But you know how it is with guys like Abraham—the more they drink, the bigger the vision. The bigger the vision, the bigger the check. C’mon, baby, we’ve been through this with guys like Abraham before.” Scott put his arms around her. Panthea struggled a bit, more for appearances than anything else, and then she settled down.
“Hey, you remember Jack Waitley?”
“Yes,” Panthea said and let out a deep sigh.
“He wanted to meet every night for a month.”
“I thought it was two,” Panthea pouted.
“It might have been.” Scott paused and reflected. “But anyway, in the end, that deal bought us this house.”
With its three fireplaces, vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors on the main level, Old World craftsmanship punctuated every corner of their stately home in Sandy Springs. It had six bedrooms, six full baths, two half baths and wall-to-wall carpet on the second story. There was a whirlpool bath, double vanity, walk-in closet and a separate shower in the master suite. The house had an eat-in kitchen, full basement, and a three-car garage. There was even a Jacuzzi on the deck.
“Scott you know I love this house, and I appreciate what it takes to live the way we do, but please try to see things my way. Why couldn’t you have at least let me know about this sooner?”
“You know—last minute,” Scott said and tried to get around Panthea again.
“Why is it always got to be so last minute?”
“Baby, please,” Scott looked at his watch. “I gotta go, but I promise,” he said and kissed her on the cheek, “when this is over, we’ll take a nice long trip. Anywhere you want.”
Panthea rolled her eyes and stepped aside. “Whatever, Scott,” she said as Scott walked by her. “Last time you said that, we ended up spending a week in Cleveland with your bum sister.”
Scott looked at his wife, but didn’t comment.
He opened the door and left the house. When the door slammed, Panthea said, “Asshole.”
She returned to her spot in the living room. She picked up the book she was reading and flipped through the pages until she found the page she was on. Panthea started to read, but shortly thereafter closed the book. This definitely wasn’t the time to relax with a good book. Her usual relax-and-let-things-work-themselves-out-to-my-advantage style just wouldn’t do this time. No, this time a plan was needed.
Panthea thought that her days of scheming and planning were behind her. She got up and made her way to the kitchen knowing that they weren’t. After pouring herself a glass of wine, Panthea went upstairs and ran a bath. While the water ran, she lit the candles she had around the tub. Once the water was the right temperature, she turned off the lights, took off her clothes and got in.
While she sipped her wine and the warmth of the water caressed her body, Panthea thought about what she was going to do. There really wasn’t much to think about in that regard, she already knew what she was going to do.
“He wants to be with somebody else, fine. Let’s see how much she wants him when he’s broke,” she said aloud.
Scott was having an affair and she was sure of it. Panthea was so sure she could feel it. But her feeling it wasn’t going be enough, she had to have proof. But how do I prove it? she wondered. She could follow him when he goes out, and do what?
“Whip the bitch’s ass?”
Panthea quickly dismissed that idea as being way too ghetto. However the plan to follow him was sound, only she wouldn’t be the one doing the hard work. She would hire a private investigator to follow Scott and get pictures of him out with his woman.
So it was decided, but the only private investigator that Panthea knew was Patrick Davenport, and he was a friend of Scott’s. Since Patrick had been trying to seduce her behind Scott’s back for years, she was sure he wouldn’t tell.
“Especially if he thought I’d give him some of this kat,” Panthea said, laughing. She took another sip.
Panthea knew that was out of the question, because she didn’t want that animal ever dreaming he had a chance to be intimate with her. She thought about asking him for a recommendation, but there would be questions she wouldn’t want to answer and wouldn’t feel like lying about. She could always use the yellow pages, but then it hit her. Since she would end up going to a lawyer anyway, why not go to a lawyer first and let them use their own investigator. And at that instance, Panthea knew just who she wanted to hire as her lawyer. She had seen him on television about a year before while he was defending a man on trial for murder. He was so fine, and each night she would watch the evening news just to see him to discuss the trial.
His name was Marcus Douglas.
Two days later, Panthea found herself sitting in the lobby of Marcus’s office. His personal secretary, Janise had told her when she made the appointment that Mr. Douglas doesn’t handle divorce cases anymore, but Panthea insisted that she had to speak with him personally.
“I think it would be best if I discuss my case with Mr. Douglas first,” she stated.
And once she explained that her husband was a prominent real estate developer and hinted at the added complexities involved, Janise made the appointment.
Panthea sat patiently in the lobby dressed in Prada from head to toe. She wore a sleeveless, sky blue and ivory Prada dress, made in Italy from one hundred percent premium silk. Her hair was tied in the back to accent the halter neckline. On her feet, she wore Prada satin peep-toe ricamo stilettos, which had beaded and metallic threading detail that the covered heels. On her lap sat a Prada black nappa leather handbag with a signature lock, zippered side pockets and buckle-detailed shoulder strap. Panthea was ready to see her new lawyer.
Marcus Douglas sat in his office finishing up a few observations he had made while the researching the United States Supreme Court’s 1986 ruling in the case of Batson v. Kentucky. In that case, the defendant was convicted of burglary and receipt of stolen goods in a Louisville, Kentucky circuit court by a jury composed entirely of white jurors. The court had ruled that a prosecutor's use of peremptory challenges, the dismissal of jurors without stating a valid cause for doing so, may not be used to exclude jurors based solely on their race. The court ruled that the practice violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.
At the time, Marcus was in the jury selection phase of a murder trial, in which he believed that the prosecutor was attempting to do just that. He glanced over at his appointment calendar and picked up the phone to call Janise.
“Yes, Marcus,” she answered.
“Tell me again; why am I meeting with Mrs. Daniels?”
Janise glanced at Panthea and smiled. “Because she insisted that she had to explain her situation to you—personally.”
“Yeah, I know, you told me. I know who her husband is, more who he thinks he is. It’s still a divorce, messy, but still a divorce.”
“I think you’ll find Mrs. Daniels to be a very persuasive woman,” Janise replied.
“And she’s aware that I can only give her ten minutes?”
“She understands that you're a busy man.”
“Okay, Janise, I’ll listen to what she has to say, but since Gibson is gonna be her divorce lawyer, tell him to expect her. You can send her in now.”
Just as Janise opened the door, Marcus put away his notes and was about to stand up to greet Panthea, bu
t the phone rang. He picked up the phone and waved to Janise to bring her in. Marcus grabbed a pen and began speaking.
“Go ahead, Tiffanie, I’m ready,” he said. “Brown versus New Jersey. I got it. Thanks, Tiffanie,” he said just before hanging up.
When he looked up, Panthea was seated with her legs crossed in front of him. Marcus looked at Panthea, blinked a few times, and then looked at her again.
Panthea smiled. “Good afternoon, Mr. Douglas,” she said as her heart began to pound.
Panthea was apparently more excited about this meeting than she thought she would be. It was one thing for her to see Marcus on TV, but it was something else to see him in person. He is so much better looking, Panthea thought.
Now it was Marcus who smiled. Panthea Daniels was a very attractive woman. She is wearing the shit outta that dress, Marcus thought and put on his game face. “How are you, Mrs. Daniels?”
“Fine. Thank you for asking. And I have to say it is truly an honor to meet you.”
“Really? Why is that?” Marcus asked.
“I have to admit, and I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I’m a bit of a fan of yours,” Panthea cooed very sexily.
“Really? Why is that?” Marcus laughed, but inside, the way she said it made him more than a little curious.
“The Ferguson trial,” Panthea said referring to a big media murder trial that Marcus had won. In that case, Atlanta businessman, Roland Ferguson was accused of murdering his wife, Desireé Taylor Ferguson and her lover, Rasheed Damali in a cabin in the North Georgia mountains with a gulf club. “I used to watch you on the news every night before I went to bed.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair. “You’re not about to start stalking me, are you Mrs. Daniels?” he asked playfully.
“Please, call me, Panthea, and no, I’m not a stalker. Besides,” Panthea paused, “I always thought that stalking referred to unwanted attention or contact.”
