by Mia Ford
She waved the little slip of paper at him and smiled. “Bishop Smith from Yale, you are assigned to criminal law for your first rotation. Congratulations!”
“Do we clap?” the guy sitting to my right whispered, his hands held at the ready.
“This is like Harry Potter getting assigned to a dorm,” Eric said, bumping me with his elbow and leaning in to whisper in my ear. His breath on my cheek made me blush.
The HR lady held out the bag to Eben Reed to pick a name. She went through the same raffle winner routine, then to Sam, then started again with Phyllis. I held my breath each time a name was picked and waited to be called. When it came down to just three names left in the bag, the blonde from NYU, Eric, and I were the only ones who had not been chosen.
“What are the odds that we’d still be in the bag together,” he said, this time leaning in close enough to almost touch his lips to my ear. I didn’t mind a flirt, but he was really starting to cross the imaginary line that was supposed to keep guys like him away. Plus, his breath smelled like ranch dressing and coffee.
“Yeah,” I said, scooting away from him a little. “What are the odds.”
“All right, there are three names left and one more round to go,” the HR lady said, shaking the bag like she was breading chicken in a Baggie (okay, I’d seen my mother do it). When she held out the bag to Phyllis Goode I found myself holding my breath again. I had noticed her staring at me a couple of times and her expression was anything but friendly. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to offend her, if anything. Maybe there was a strict “one redhead at a time” rule that no one had bothered to tell me about.
I didn’t exhale until Phyllis’ hand came out with the slip of paper and the HR lady read into the mic. “Eric Huffman, Yale. Eric Huffman, Yale. Congratulations, Eric, you’re assigned to criminal law.”
She glanced immediately at Eric, knowing he was the only male left unattached. I heard him swear under his breath, though he held up his hand and smiled.
That left me and the blonde. Now, let me be perfectly honest with you. I’m not a religious person. I mean, I believe in a higher power and all, and I have no idea if it’s a man or a woman or an alien from another planet. I did not come from a churchgoing family, nor did we say grace at dinner time or our prayers before going to bed. But at that moment, as I watched Eben Reed shove his pudgy hand into the bag and pull out the slip of paper, I was praying like mad to whoever would listen.
Please let me be with Sam…
Please let me be with Sam…
Please let me be with Sam…
I know, it sounded silly to me, too, but it’s what kept running through my mind, right up to the point that the HR lady opened the slip and looked directly at the blonde.
“Olivia Munson, NYU, corporate law,” the HR lady said flatly with far less fanfare than she had for the others. I got the feeling that the fact that Olivia Munson’s boobs were trying to break free from the top of her shirt didn’t sit well with the lady from HR.
“Fuck,” Olivia Munson huffed, loud enough to be heard at the front of the room. Sam glanced at the floor before anyone saw him smile. Mr. Reed took the hint and did the same. The HR lady looked horrified while Phyllis Goode’s expression didn’t change, though it was clear what was going through her mind. Olivia Munson’s tenure at CBG would probably be over before it even got started.
“That means there’s only one name left,” the HR lady said, holding out the bag to Sam, who was already looking my way. Rather than sticking his hand in the bag, he took it from her and wadded it into a tight ball.
He looked at me and smiled. “Who’s left? Stand up.”
I glanced around to find everyone looking my way. I pushed myself up from the table and held up my hand like a child asking to go to the bathroom.
“That’s me,” I said weakly, trying to keep my voice from cracking.
Sam held out his hands with the bag in his right fist. “What is your name and alma mater?” he asked.
“Abigail Walsh,” I said. “Harvard.”
“Welcome to marital law, Abigail Walsh from Harvard,” he said with a welcoming smile that made me feel warm all over. Without warning, he tossed the balled-up bag my way. It was a perfect throw. I plucked the bag out of the air with one hand.
“Good catch,” Eric huffed, rolling his eyes.
I smiled at Sam and he gave me a thumbs up. Phyllis Goode’s expression didn’t change. In fact, she didn’t even look my way.
“Okay, that’s it everyone,” the HR lady said. “Again, welcome to Collins Bangham & Goode.”
Phyllis stepped forward and whispered in the HR lady’s ear. She cleared her throat and looked at the blonde, who was sitting with her arms crossed over her boobs still fuming that she hadn’t been placed under Sam.
“Miss Munson, I’d like to see you in my office. The rest of you please follow your designated junior partner and they will get you settled in.”
We all watched the blonde as she plucked her purse off the table and followed the HR lady out of the room. I wondered if we would be seeing her again. Somehow, I doubted that we would.
“Miss Walsh.”
I turned to find Sam Collins standing less than a foot away from me. The breath caught in my throat. He was devastatingly handsome, even more so up close.
“Mr. Collins, thank you for the opportunity to work under you, sir. I mean, I look forward to learning from you.” I realized what I’d said and how it sounded the moment the words left my lips. His quick smile told me he caught it, too, which made my cheeks flush red.
“You’re welcome, Miss Walsh,” he said, taking the wadded-up bag from my hand. He unwadded the bag and opened it up, then held it out so I could peer inside. The bag was empty. My name was never inside.
“Lesson number one, Miss Walsh,” he said, reaching into his inside jacket pocket. His hand came out holding the slip of paper with my name on it between two fingers. “Always know what’s in the bag. And what’s not. Now, let’s go to work.”
Abbie
“Oh my god, you mean he rigged it somehow?”
“Apparently so,” I said with a smile that I couldn’t seem to get off my face each time Sam Collins came to mind. “The HR lady never pulled my name because Sam didn’t give her the chance. He took the bag and wadded it up and threw it at me. Then he came over to show me that the bag was empty. The slip of paper with my name on it was in his pocket the whole time.”
“Wow, that’s amazing, Abs,” she said, shaking her head. “Sam Collins rigged it so he could get into your pants.”
“I’m not sure that’s the reason,” I said defensively. “Maybe he just thinks I’ll make an excellent divorce lawyer.”
“No offense, Abs, but trust me on this one, that’s the reason.”
I started to pout, even though she wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already thought of myself. I said, “Then I’m not sure how I feel about that. Maybe I should go to HR and tell them I want to be assigned to a different department.”
Tiffany was sitting on the other end of the couch, turned sideways with her bare feet pressed to mine. We looked like bookends in our pajamas, each with a bowl of popcorn in our lap, working our way through a twelve-pack of Coronas. She nudged my foot with her toe.
“I’m just fucking with you. I’m sure he rigged it because he thinks you’re gonna be an awesome divorce attorney and he wants to take credit for discovering you.”
“Fuck you, Tiff.”
“Fuck you back, Abs,” she said with a grin. “Don’t go telling HR. And don’t overreact.”
“I’m not overreacting,” I said, picking up my bottle from the coffee table and holding it to my lips. “At least not yet.” I took a long sip and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. Funny, when girls drink in front of guys we take little sips and dab napkins to our lips. When girls drink privately, we drink like guys.
I settled back, less tense now, and asked the question I’d been dying to ask all day. “So,
give me the dirt on Sam Collins and Phyllis Goode.”
She feigned ignorance. Badly. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on, Tiff, it’s apparent that they had a thing,” I said. “Or have a thing. And where the hell is Barry Bangham? Come on, don’t make me Google. Dish it up, bitch.”
She drained her beer and pulled another from the twelve-pack sitting on the floor. She twisted off the cap and dropped it in the space she’d just pulled the bottle from. “Okay, this is all rumor and innuendo, you understand.”
My eyes sparkled at the aspect of juicy gossip. “Of course. Dish.”
“Okay, well, supposedly, Sam and Phyllis have history that goes all the way back to their junior year at Harvard Law. Rumor is they hooked up in the restroom at a dive bar the first night they met and haven’t stopped fucking like horny little rabbits ever since.”
“Wow, did the relationship ever get serious?”
Tiff slowly shook her head with the bottle at her lips. She took a pull from the bottle and licked her lips. “I don’t think so. Just friends with benefits. She has been married and divorced like three times. No woman’s ever been able to pin him down. Sam Collins is a grade-A pussy hound. He’s probably fucked most of the women who work at CBG, except you and me, sadly, and does the nasty with a lot of his rich, female clients.”
“Wow, that’s… interesting,” I said. It was becoming clear why Sam had rigged things to get me on his team: because he wanted me in his bed. I probably should have been offended, but honestly, the thought of having my legs wrapped around his waist and his cock deep inside me was thrilling. I’d been flirted with and hit on in the past, but this was somehow different. Sam was twenty years older than me and way more experienced. I had been with high school boys and Harvard frat guys whose idea of foreplay was to see how long it took them to unhook my bra. I’d never been with a man, a real man, a man like Sam Collins. Just the thought of his hands on my breasts and tongue in my mouth made my clit tingle.
“So, what are you going to do?” Tiff asked, giving me an expectant grin.
I pretended to not understand the question, though I knew full well what she was asking. “What am I going to do about what?”
She wiggled her eyebrows and smiled. “When Sam Collins puts the moves on you. What are you gonna do?”
I held the bottle to my lips and thought it over. I lobbed the ball back in her court. “I don’t know. What would you do?”
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Honey, I’d have that man on his back so fast it would make his head spin.”
“You don’t think it would affect your career?”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “In this world, that’s how you get ahead.”
“By fucking the partners?”
“By fucking anybody higher up the ladder than you that can help you continue the climb, yes sir.”
“Have you fucked a partner?” I watched her face for a reaction. “Or partners?”
Her dark face flushed for a moment and she started peeling the label off the beer bottle with her thumbnail. “Between you and me, I’ve done it with a few of them.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“How was it?”
“Do you hear me complaining?”
“Okay, who was it? Which partner?”
She put a finger to her chin and frowned playfully, as if she was pondering a question that had a very complex answer. She said, “Well, did you meet Eben Reed?”
My mouth fell open. “Eben Reed, from corporate law?”
She nodded with her eyebrows arched. “Yep, that’s the one.”
“He was in the orientation luncheon today. He looks so…”
“Proper? Back so straight you’d think he had a stick shoved up his ass?”
“Yes.”
She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “Girl, I bet you he was wearing a pair of women’s panties beneath that Brooks Brothers suit.”
“No way…” I put a hand over my mouth as my eyes went wide.
“Yep, the first time I fucked him we were out of town at a client meeting and he shows up at my hotel room door wearing a jogging suit. When he took off the suit, he was wearing a pair of black panties from Victoria’s Secret that looked like it had an anaconda rolled up in it.”
“Oh my god, what did you do?”
“I told him he looked nice and fucked his brains out!” Tiff cackled and nearly spilled her beer everywhere. “I’m telling you, Abs, he might be a little weird, but the man has a schlong the size of your arm and he knows how to use it.”
“Oh my god,” I said again. “That’s just… crazy.”
“It might be crazy, but guess who’s now the rising star in corporate law?”
I held out my bottle and grinned. “Here’s to sleeping your way to the top.” She tapped her bottle to mine and we both took a long drink. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and considered what she’d told me.
“Okay, so what’s the deal with Barry Bangham?” I asked.
She shrugged with her eyes. “Word is that Barry Bangham has a problem with booze and blow. He’s even had mental breakdowns in the past.”
“What kind of breakdowns?”
“Serious shit, like sitting naked on the ledge outside his office until the fire department pulled him back inside. The man is cracked like Humpty Dumpty, if you ask me. Supposedly, he’s on vacation, but who knows where he really is. Sam probably knows, but he ain’t saying.”
“Have they been friends for a long time?”
“Since college, I think. Barry is like Sam’s bumbling little brother. He is very guarded about Barry, very defensive. Eben Reed told me that if it wasn’t for Sam coming to Barry’s defense, Phyllis and the other partners would have booted him out a long time ago.”
“What an interesting place,” I said with a sigh, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
“It is that,” she said with a nod.
I felt a yawn coming on and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. “Well, I’d better get some sleep,” I said. “Today was mostly about filling out paperwork and getting oriented. Tomorrow the fun begins.”
“Tomorrow you start working with Sam Collins,” she said with a sigh. “Lucky you.”
“Yes,” I said tentatively. “Lucky me.”
I must have fallen right to sleep because the dream started quickly and continued on and off for most of the night. I woke up at five-thirty the next morning feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. In fact, I felt like I’d had my ass kicked. My muscles ached and my pajama bottoms were soaked at the crotch. For a moment, I thought I’d pissed myself from drinking too many beers. Then I realized it was Sam Collins that brought on the wetness, not the beer.
I was in my bed, but not yet asleep. I heard a noise outside my door, like footsteps treading lightly, trying not to be heard. Somehow, I knew it was Sam, coming to do to me what he had done to so many women before me. I felt the breath catch in my throat as I stared at the sliver of light beneath the door, listening, waiting for the door to open, for my lover to appear.
The room was dark, with just the hazy glow of light filtering through the curtains from the street below. The usual traffic noise wasn’t there. I had never heard it so quiet. The only sounds were the footsteps outside the door and the beating of my own heart.
I was naked beneath the thin sheet that covered my body. I could feel my breasts swelling, my nipples plumping. My pussy juices were flowing from deep inside me, pooling within my folds, hot and slick, ready for him to taste and invade.
The door opened silently. There was a dark figure in the doorway. Even though I could not see his face, I knew it was Sam, coming to have his way with me. As he walked slowly toward me I noticed he was naked. His body was magnificent; lean, hard-muscled, broad shoulders, long legs. He came to stand by the bed with his hands on his hips, staring down at me. My eyes drifted from his face down his body until stopping on his cock, the
sight of it making me gasp in delight. His cock was long, hard, thick and veiny, with a bulbous head that was darker than the shaft. The slit of his cock glistened with his juices.
“Do you want me to teach you things?” he asked, his deep voice barely a whisper. His hand was on his cock now, stroking it slowly back and forth, squeezing the head to force little drops of juice from the slit. His other hand kneaded his balls.
“Yes, Sam, please teach me,” I moaned.
“Turn to me and spread your legs,” he said. “Show me your sweet pussy. Give yourself to me and I’ll teach you with my cock.”
I threw off the sheet and turned myself in the bed so that my cunt was at the edge of the bed. I brought up my knees and spread my legs so he could force his cock into my pussy. It had been so long. I knew I would be tight for him. Sam smiled and licked his lips.
“Such a beautiful pussy,” he sighed, reaching down with his fingers to touch me. My pussy was hot and wet. He rubbed my folds and lubed my clit with his thumb, then stuck three fingers deep inside me and wiggled them around. His fingers were like a live wire that shot electricity through my entire body. I felt my nipples double in size as my breasts swelled from his touch.
He growled. “I want to fuck you and suck you and teach you how to please me.”
“Please…Sam… teach me…”
He slid out his fingers and used them to guide the head of his cock to my wet hole. He swirled it around. His cock was long and thick, longer and thicker than any cock that had been inside me before. I worried for a moment that he might split me in two, then the head slid in easily and I felt my pussy stretching to accommodate him.
I gasped and moaned at the same time. His cock stretched my pussy hole as my lips tightened around the shaft. He put his hands on my hips and lifted me and thrust himself inside at the same instant. Christ, I could feel him clear up to my chest and at the back of my throat. His fingers dug into my hips and he started thrusting in quickly and pulling out slowly, over and over again.
The smell of sweat and sex filled my tiny bedroom. I clutched at my tits and squeezed my nipples hard, rolling them between my fingers until they ached. I watched Sam’s face as he fucked me. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, breathing hard through it. When he opened his eyes and moaned my name, I felt myself cumming.
