Plight

by K. M. Golland

  “Danielle, I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused in my life.”

  “You and me both,” I practically slurred, unable to remove my eyes from him.

  “Firstly, what is a naked Spanx? Secondly, can you please start making sense now?”

  Still unable to look anywhere other than the V muscle disappearing behind the Batmobile, I blindly felt for the straps of my dress and slid them over my shoulders, awkwardly shimming out of it to reveal my nude coloured Spanx undergarment.

  “This,” I said, continuing to wrestle the dress past my knees while slouched on the sofa. “This is Spanx. It’s my underwear. This is what I meant.”

  “That’s what you meant by wearing your underwear?”

  I finally raised my eyes to meet his, my sneaky smile beaming. “You thought I meant some skimpy Victoria’s Secret ensemble, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I fucking did.”

  I smoothed my hands down the skin-coloured slip. “You don’t like my Spanx? It’s meant to make me look naked.” I waggled my eyebrows.

  “Being naked will make you look naked.”

  “Elliot, we’re not fucking. Friends should never fuck.”

  The bastard slid his hands along the waistline of his boxer shorts and then dragged them over his six-pack, across his pecs, and over his shoulders, entwining his fingers and resting them on his head. “I’d say we’re more than just friends, honey. We’re engaged, remember? We should definitely fuck.”

  I couldn’t swallow.

  My. Throat. Would. Not. Work.

  “I need a drink,” I choked out. “If I’m staying here, I need a drink.”

  He part scoffed part laughed. “What would you like?”

  “Something fermented: wheat, grains, fruit or vegetables. I don’t care.”

  Elliot disappeared into his kitchen and came back shortly after, carrying two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. “Vegetable and grains?” He held up the Maker’s Mark.

  I nodded. “Perfect.”

  Taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch, he placed the glasses and bottle on the coffee table and poured our drinks, handing me mine as he leaned back, delicately arranged my foot on his lap, and casually draped his hand over the back of the seat. “So … Truth or Dare, huh?”

  I twisted my leg a little for emphasis. “Maybe just truth.”

  “I think you can manage a dare or two.”

  Taking a swig of my drink, the amber coloured liquor heated the very depths of my mouth. “You do, do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay then, dare. Dare me to do something, Lots.”

  His ice blue eyes turned dark, and they dropped to momentarily take in my chest.

  “I dare you to …” the delicious bastard deliberately paused and it near killed me, the suspense of what he wanted me to do charging my heart rate.

  Just about to forfeit and skol my drink, his eyes lit up and he said, “Spock. I dare you to give me the Vulcan Salute.”

  “Noooooo!” I cracked up laughing. “You arsehole. You know I can’t do that.”

  He raised his hands in defence. “I don’t. For all I know, you could’ve perfected it over the years.”

  “Well, I haven’t, so screw you.” I lifted my drink and eyed him aggressively as I sucked it down in one go. “Whoo.” I squinted for a moment, adjusting to the burn.

  He pulled a not bad face and poured me another. “Nice start.”

  “Thank you. But now it’s your turn. Truth or Dare?”

  “I guess it’s only fair I choose dare, seeing as you did.”

  “Good. Do this,” I said, poking out my curled tongue, knowing that he couldn’t.

  He threw his head back and laughed, the sound sweeping right through me. “Touché, honey. Touché.”

  “Ugh! Don’t call me that.”

  Elliot downed his drink then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Would you prefer schnookums?”

  I laughed. “No!”

  “’Cause we can always swap, you know.”

  “Did you see your sister’s face when I called you that?”

  He chuckled and poured himself another drink. “Yes. It was the best face I’ve ever seen her pull.”

  “You’re so mean.”

  “She’s meaner.”

  Laughing, he sat back again, and whether he realised or not, his hand lightly caressed my foot. It was sweet. “Ready for round Two? Truth or Dare?”

  “I’m gonna go truth this time,” I said with a nod of my head.

  “Okay. Are you honestly happy to see me again, despite our reintroduction?”

  “Yes. Of course I am.”

  He nodded and smiled, seeming pleased with my answer.

  “You did freak me out at first, though,” I added.

  “No!” he said, feigning shock. “Really?”

  “Yep. Your legal jargon nearly earned you a Facebook ban.”

  “My legal jargon is sexy.”

  “No, it’s not!” I laughed and subsequently jerked my foot. “Owww.”

  “Be careful. You don’t want to do more damage.”

  “No, I don’t, otherwise I can never leave.”

  “I dare you to do star jumps,” he said enthusiastically.

  “Ha ha, very funny. And it’s your turn, not mine.”

  “Fine. I choose dare.”

  “No. I want you to choose truth.”

  “Bad luck. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “But I chose truth so you should too.”

  “Again, it doesn’t work that way, Danielle.”

  “Ugh! You suck.”

  “What was that?” he said, placing his hand to his ear. “You dare me to suck? Sure. What should I suck?” He lifted my foot and gestured toward my big toe. “This?”

  “Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.”

  “I’m sorry. Is that a dare?”

  “No! Elliot! I mean it. I can’t handle that shit.”

  He lifted my foot higher, knowing I couldn’t yank it away.

  “Please. You can suck anywhere else, just not my toe.”

  His eyebrows rose, slowly, a predatory look rolling from his suggestive face. “Anywhere?”

  “Well, not anywhere,” I answered, a nervous chill heating my body.

  “But you said. And it is a dare, remember?”

  “Fine. Anywhere … that doesn’t require the removal of clothing,” I added, smiling satisfactorily.

  My clever answer didn’t appear to deter the determination in his eyes as he lowered my foot. “Dare accepted.”

  Elliot placed his glass down on the table, stood up and walked toward me, my head flushing with heat that simmered with anticipation. I sucked in a breath and gripped my glass harder when he stopped beside me, his hip level with my face. Good God, his cock is within licking distance. I tried not to look at it, but Holy Batman if that weren’t a bat signal between his legs.

  Willing my eyes to focus on the city lights beyond the floor to ceiling windows, I finally let out my breath when he continued past me, immediately sucking in another one the moment the tips of his fingers brushed my hair away from my neck, exposing my skin.

  “Should I suck your earlobe or your neck?” he teased, his hot breath near sending me into a coma. Fuck. All. The. Shits.

  The bat had woken my cat and it wasn’t a good thing. It was bad. Real bad, and I was helpless to stop what he was about to do, because—OhmyfuckingGod.

  Elliot’s lips found my neck the exact moment his hand gently gripped my jaw and tilted my head to the side. I gasped and closed my eyes, my body victim to his luscious assault.

  My nipples tingled.

  My hands clenched.

  But it wasn’t until the wet warmth of his tongue trailed down my neck and settled on the dip of my collarbone that my pelvis bucked and I let out a shallow moan.

  “Okay,” I rasped, finding my breath. “Okay. Dare completed.”

  His grip on my jaw loosened and his hand slid along my cheek, disap
pearing into my hair before disappearing from me entirely.

  Slowly opening my eyes, I quickly righted my slouched posture and regained my bearings, finding Elliot back in his seat, bourbon in hand, a satisfied grin on his face. “Your turn.”

  “Truth,” I breathed out, before swigging my drink.

  “Did you enjoy that?”

  “Yes. Couldn’t you tell?”

  He smiled and then nodded to my chest. “Uh huh.”

  I glanced down and noticed that not even my bra could hide my body’s desire. “Oh! Well, yeah. You get that.”

  “I’m not complaining at all.”

  “I bet you’re not.” I took another drink. A big one. “This isn’t how we used to play this game, Lots.”

  He smirked. “Truth.”

  I fired him an unsure look; we were heading into dangerous territory, and I wasn’t sure how we’d get out.

  “Danielle, relax and ask me a bloody question.”

  “Okay. Have you ever been married or engaged?”

  “No.”

  “Serious girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Five years.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s too many questions.”

  “Fine. If I do a dare, I get to ask you three truth questions.”

  “You can’t just change the rules like that.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  He pressed his glass to his lips and held it there for a couple of seconds before taking a swig. “Fine. I dare you to take off the Spanx.”

  Shiiiiiiiiit!

  Did I really want to go there? Did I really want to tease both the bat and the cat, knowing they wanted to play? I did, and I didn’t. Fuck it. Remove the Spanx, Just. Don’t. Remove. The. Knickers. Remember?

  “Deal.”

  Sitting up, I removed the straps of my low-riding Spanx slip, careful not to remove the straps of my nude push-up bra, and continued to roll it down my belly until I reached my hips.

  I paused and glanced at Elliot, whose eyes were heavy-lidded and fixed to my breasts, his glass still resting against his lips. He looked so fucking amorous, so sexy. I wanted to reach out, grab him and pull him to my mouth. I wanted to guide that mouth over my nipples and down my belly until it was devouring the very part of me screaming to be satisfied. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let that happen no matter how much I craved it. You should never fuck your friends. Keep your knickers on.

  Repeating those sentences in my head, I kept rolling down my Spanx until my arms couldn’t reach any further.

  “Care to finish the job?” I asked, a mix of seduction and playfulness in my tone as I lifted my legs and propositioned him to remove the slip for me.

  He cleared his throat and gently slid my Spanks over my feet, keeping it secured in his closed hand.

  I swallowed and shivered, all of a sudden feeling exposed and vulnerable, but most of all grateful I’d waxed a day earlier.

  “Are you cold?” He leaned forward and swapped my Spanx for a remote control he picked up from the coffee table. “I can put on the fire if you’d like?”

  Elliot aimed the remote at the fireplace adjacent to where we were sitting, flames shooting up from between the rocks at the base.

  “Wow! I need one of those. We have a woodfire at home, but never any wood.”

  “That pretty much defeats the purpose of having a woodfire, Danielle.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that,” I sighed, reclining into the couch.

  Elliot jerked when I placed my injured foot back on his lap, or more accurately, on top of his erection.

  “Oh my God! Are you hard?”

  “Are you asking me a truth question?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do I need to answer, or is the proof underneath your foot?”

  I gently rubbed my heel against him, and he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, his chiselled chest rising and slowly falling again. Shit!

  I stopped. “Sorry, Lots. I shouldn’t tease you like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t give you what you might want.”

  “You don’t know what I want.”

  “I know what your body wants.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “What my body wants.”

  He looked down between my slightly parted legs, and I had no doubt that he could see a shadow of wetness on my underwear, a shadow he’d instigated.

  He licked his lips, and I snapped my legs shut.

  “Why can’t you give me what our bodies want?”

  “Because friends shouldn’t fuck. Period. It ruins everything.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.” I leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “Lots, I don’t want to ruin us.”

  He trailed his finger down my shoulder. “I know. I don’t want to ruin us either.”

  “So we don’t fuck. Agreed?”

  He laughed. “I never said that.”

  “This isn’t up for negotiation.”

  “Truth or dare?”

  “Don’t change the topic.”

  “I’m not. Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “Sleep with me tonight.”

  “No! I mean it. We can’t fuck.”

  “I said ‘sleep’, Danielle. Sleep with me tonight.”

  Weighing up his challenge, I stared into his imploring eyes and decided that, if I kept my knickers on as planned, there was no harm in sleeping

  … together

  … in the same bed.

  Because we were just friends, pretending to be so much more.

  What I was asking for was risky. I knew that. But if all I could ever say was that I’d held her while she slept, I’d be happy.

  “Okay, Elliot. We sleep and talk. That’s it.”

  I smiled, relief flooding my body. I honestly didn’t think she’d agree. In fact, I was preparing to fill her glass again in readiness for her mandatory skoll.

  “No fucking,” she repeated.

  “No fucking,” I reaffirmed. Well, maybe.

  “And I get to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the window.”

  That was my favourite side, but I didn’t argue because I planned on sleeping on that side, too. With her. On her. Underneath her.

  “Then it’s settled,” she said, covering her chest with her arms.

  “It is. So would you like to go to bed now?”

  “I still have more questions for you.”

  “You can ask them under the covers.”

  Her eyelids fluttered with derision. “Can I bring my drink? I think I’m gonna need it.”

  She was so bloody cute, even when she mocked me. “Yes, you can bring your drink.”

  “You better have something I can sleep in, like an old t-shirt?”

  “I have a Batman t-shirt,” I admitted, unable to hide my grin.

  Her jaw dropped and she pointed at me. “You lied! You said you didn’t have one.”

  I shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Speaking of guilty people, what’s it like … defending them? You defend them, right?”

  “Am I a criminal defence lawyer? Yes, predominantly.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” She took a sip of her drink and eyed me curiously over the rim of her glass.

  “For the most part, yes.”

  “For the most part?”

  I drank some of my bourbon then put my glass down. “I started off wanting to defend the underdog and wrongly accused, those who perhaps were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or who were a convenient target. Too often in life the wrong people fall victim because they don’t know their rights or how to fight for them. I hate that. I hate that they’re made scapegoats.”

  “But what about the guilty ones? How do you defend them knowing they’re guilty.”

  “They’ve got to be proven guilty first.”

  “You know what I mean,” she sighed
. “The ones who’ve admitted doing the crime, or where there’s no reasonable doubt because they’ve been caught red-handed.”

  I ran my hand through my hair then used it to rest my head upon. This question, this notion, was never easy to explain. “A lot of the time, I can’t let myself think too much about it. I can’t make it personal or get involved beyond what my job, as their legal counsel, requires. But the ones who show remorse for their wrongdoings, genuine remorse … do they deserve punishment to the fullest extent of the law? No. I personally don’t think they do. And unless I help them, that’s what they’ll get.”

  Her eyes widened. “So you believe a murderer deserves to be free if he/she is truly sorry?”

  I chuckled, but the fact she was asking me these questions twisted my gut. The last thing I wanted was for my career to disappoint her through lack of comprehension.

  “No, of course not. If you’re guilty of a crime, you deserve to be punished and rehabilitated. The thing is, more often than not, not everything is black and white. There are almost always mitigating circumstances.”

  “But some crimes are black and white.”

  “Well, yes, and no.”

  “So how do you defend a cold blooded murderer?”

  “Facts,” I stated, my answer short and simple because I wanted this conversation to end.

  “Facts?”

  I sighed. “Yes, it all comes back to facts.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me then downed the last of her drink, stretching toward the coffee table to dispense her glass. The light from the fire lit her skin golden, her body smooth and flawless. And the nude lace underwear covering what I desperately wanted to see, touch, and taste the most, was only fuelling my need even more.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, wiggling back into the seat and hugging her knees to her chest.

  I swallowed and tried to ignore my thickening cock. “I stick to the facts while also questioning them, creating reasonable doubt while hoping, deep down, that the facts will prevail.”

  “So you do your job but hope you fail at it?”

  “Where the cold-blooded murderers are concerned, yeah, you could say that.”

  “It must be hard defending them.”

  I shrugged and stood up, offering my hands to help her stand with me. “Somebody has to do it.”