by Liv Morris
“Did you have something to tell us?” I prompted.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we felt that we should let someone know, we’re picking up some really weird stuff.”
“You should be fine as long you’ve had your shots,” Mr. Brenner replied.
“No, on our equipment!” his partner, Burt said, looking excited. “We’re picking up definite signs of an infestation.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they sprayed,” Mr. Brenner added.
“He means we think there may be a malevolent entity here,” one of the guys in the background piped up, “but we’re not really sure it’s intelligent.”
“I thought Mr. Drake left,” I said to Mr. Brenner,
“No, he’s out in the hall having a pow wow with Delores in the Technicolor Dream Coat,” Mr. Brenner answered.
“Not him. He’s just a minor inhuman,” Burt offered.
“Those were my thoughts exactly,” I said with a smile.
“This is major spirit activity. The epicenter seems to be right in that spot right there,” Ernie said, turning around and pointing to precisely the place that Mr. Marley had been seated before he had vanished. Thunder clapped in background and lightening lit up the sky at that exact moment. Okay, not really. But if this had been a movie, that’s what would have happened.
“That spot, really? That’s where Mr. Marley was sitting,” I said to Mr. Brenner.
“Who was sitting there?” he asked.
“My husband Braden’s client, Mr. Marley. You know, the guy who supposedly died in 1905?”
“I don’t have a Mr. Marley. Edna must have him on her caseload,” he answered, referring to Edna Manson, the other prosecutor, who was working the room.
“Edna must have who on her caseload?” said a hardened-looking, Assistant District Attorney who happened to be walking by at the moment. She pushed a lock of jet-black hair out of her face, revealing a jagged scar and a charming sneer.
“Mr. Marley? He’s charged with trespassing and prowling at night?”
“Oh right. That’s just an administrative case, though. It was never closed, and we just have to figure out what to put in the file.”
“Why did you make him show up for that?”
“Make him show up? What are you talking about? The guy died in 1905, right here in this courtroom as a matter of fact.” Her mouth curled into a nasty grin, and I noticed that she had rather pointy teeth.
“From what, old age?” I asked, looking at my watch. There were going to be lots of warm drinks at Jessica’s Halloween party.
“He had a heart attack just as they called his case,” she answered in her gravely, three-pack-a-day lilt. “That’s why it was never resolved.” She cracked her knuckles.
“What are you talking about? He was sitting right over there,” I said, inching back. Edna was a little creepy.
“In the epicenter!” Ernie looked like he might wet his pants.
“We might be talking vortex,” Burt replied. He and Ernie gazed at each other like they had just struck gold. They darted off to go play with their lights in the spot Mr. Marley had been occupying with the entire S.H.I.T. following close behind. Well, at least I was fairly sure they could get a sample of some body fluid over there.
“It must be a mistake,” Edna said dismissively. She was such cynic, but she was a regular in that courtroom. Her spirit had probably died in there a few decades ago too.
“The date must be wrong,” I suggested. “Maybe he had a heart attack recently, but he survived. That’s probably what happened.”
“I work this courtroom all the time. I would have remembered that.” Edna paused and seemed to give it some thought. “Probably.” She didn’t look like she was so sure.
“Well, I’m telling you, there was a Mr. Marley, who must have known the facts of the case, because Braden discussed it with him,” I insisted. I had just been kidding around about him being a ghost. This night was getting weirder by the minute.
“I don’t know what to tell ya.” Edna shrugged and ambled on. Judge Epstein’s clerk called Commonwealth vs. Bates. Mr. Brenner and I glanced at each other resignedly and headed up to the bench. When we got there, I turned to see if Mr. Bates was coming, but he had been standing silently right behind me. I yelped and jumped about a foot in the air, putting a hand over my racing heart and blowing out a ragged breath. I turned around and saw Judge Epstein’s glare and jumped again. I had to get out of there or I was going to develop a nervous condition.
“What are the charges Mr. Brenner?” the judge growled.
“Abuse of a corpse, Your Honor.”
“Charming. What, no littering charge you can tack on?”
“I’m afraid not, Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner answered.
“Please tell me that you’ve reached an agreement on this,” she said, dropping a couple of Alka Seltzer into a glass of water and taking a big belt of it before it had even finished plop-plopping and fizz-fizzing.
“I’m afraid not, Your Honor,” I echoed, throwing a baleful look at Mr. Brenner to let her know whose fault that was.
“Your Honor, the victim’s relatives …” he began.
“The victim?!” Judge Epstein screeched. “The victim is a corpse!”
“Nevertheless, Your Honor …” Mr. Brenner looked like he might be in pain.
“Oh …” she grumbled something unintelligible. “Get them up here!” Mr. Brenner sighed and headed off to find the late Mr. Peterman’s relatives. I turned around and saw that Braden was watching. He gave me a supportive smile. I smiled back and reminded myself that he was going to make my body an epicenter of pleasure later.
A couple of minutes went by, and Mr. Brenner returned with a guy who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else and a woman who had such an angry, pinched look on her face; she made Judge Epstein look like Betty White. She was clutching a purse in front of her body like a shield, and I wanted to tell her it wouldn’t work in here. This whole place was like Kryptonite. She looked up at Riff Raff and a vein started pulsing on her forehead. Yikes. She made Edna look like Betty White.
“Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner said with another heavy sigh, “on my left is Mr. Irv Peterman, brother of the deceased. And this, is Mrs. Gladys Peterman, widow of Sid Peterman, who Mr. Bates took for a stroll.” Suddenly, I felt sorry for Mr. Brenner, and the late Mr. Sid Peterman.
“I want that sicko locked up!” Gladys shouted, waving her handbag at my client.
“Off the record!” Judge Epstein yelled back, glaring at the stenographer who immediately stopped typing and looked up at her in shock like a deer in headlights. She must have been a sub. “Mr. Brenner, what are the facts of the case?”
“During the early morning hours of October twenty-fourth of this year, in the city and county of Philadelphia, undercover vice squad officer, Jason Gallagher, observed Mr. Norman, uh, sorry,” Mr. Brenner cleared his throat, “Mr. Nathan Bates, dragging the mortal remains of Mr. Sid Peterman down the sidewalk on the fifteen hundred block of Broad Street. When Officer Gallagher ordered Mr. Bates to stop, he instead picked up Mr. Peterman and hurled him at Officer Gallagher, who ducked out of the way.” Mr. Brenner paused and looked up significantly. “I will note, Your Honor, that the Commonwealth has not added a charge of aggravated assault on Officer Gallagher.”
“Why not?!” Gladys shrieked, and the glass of Alka Seltzer on the bench shook.
“Order!” Judge Epstein banged her gavel, shaking the glass harder. Nobody was going to out-shrew her in her own courtroom. “Counselor,” she said, glaring at me, “why was your client taking a dead guy out for a midnight stroll in North Philly?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could get a word out, Gladys chimed in again, “He wanted to have sex with him!” We all turned and looked at her in confusion.
“I’m not a homosexual!” Mr. Bates piped up. We all turned to look at him in confusion. Gay? He was worried we would think he was gay?
“Your Honor,” I answered, rippin
g my gaze away from Mr. Bates and shaking my head to clear it, “my client was concerned with the rate of car theft in the area. He felt that if he stored Mr. Peterman in his car, that it would act as a deterrent to car thieves.”
I wondered if that explanation sounded as stupid as I thought it did. When several people waiting in the gallery broke out in laughter a moment later, I got my answer. Yep. It sounded as stupid as I thought it did. I looked up at Judge Epstein and winced. Somehow, I didn’t think she was really onboard with Mr. Bates’ anti-car theft strategy. She just sat there, glaring. Why wasn’t she saying anything? I started to sweat and shifted my weight to the other foot, waiting for her to crucify me.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said finally.
“Tonight, or in general?” I asked. Brenner coughed and quickly turned away to cover up his own laughter. Judge Epstein actually looked amused for about a millisecond. Gladys, however, would not be thwarted.
“I’m telling you. He wanted to have sex with Sid! I know about these narcoleptics. I saw it on the Discovery Channel.”
“And God forbid that Sid have sex for once,” the live Mr. Peterman spoke up. I had forgotten he was there. “It’s Gladys’ mission in life to make sure my brother never gets laid. Even in death.” He shook his head in obvious disgust.
“I’m not gay!” Mr. Bates yelled again. Apparently, the possibility that he might be a necrophiliac, or a narcoleptic for that matter, didn’t seem to bother him, as long as we knew that he was heterosexual.
“Why did you toss Mr. Peterman at Officer Gallagher, Mr. Bates?” Judge Epstein asked my client.
“It was North Philly at night and some guy dressed like a deadbeat, no pun intended, ordered me to stop. I was scared!” It said something about North Philly that the guy carrying the dead body was scared.
“It's true, Your Honor, that Officer Gallagher wasn’t in uniform, but he did identify himself as a police officer,” Mr. Brenner offered.
“And I was supposed to believe him?” Mr. Bates asked, sounding incredulous. “You know what kind of crazy people are walking around out there these days?”
“All right! Enough already!” Judge Epstein broke in. “That explanation is so stupid that I actually believe it.”
“You do?” I asked, wondering if I had heard her wrong.
“Yeah. I do. But he still couldn’t just walk out the door with a dead body. Charge him with Receiving Stolen Property. Did he spend the night in jail?”
“Defendant served 24 hours, Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner answered.
“Time served. Fines and costs.” She banged her gavel.
“Wait a minute! That’s it?” Gladys screeched.
“That’s it!” Judge Epstein snapped back. Her clerk handed her a paper, which she quickly read. “Half hour recess!” she called out and got up to leave. The minute she was gone, the lights seemed to get brighter.
As I escorted Mr. Bates off to meet with a deputy, who would take him to fill out his paperwork, Braden walked over to the courtroom door and gestured subtly for me to join him. I smiled with anticipation, and followed.
We walked down the hall casually. I was about to turn the corner toward the vending machine room, when Braden steered me in the other direction. “Where are we going?” I asked, looking up at him, intrigued.
“For a trip down memory lane,” he answered with a smile, and I saw that he was headed for the District Attorney’s on-site office suite.
“We can’t do that in there anymore,” I said coyly, feeling my tummy flutter at the memory of how we had utilized the negotiation rooms back when Braden was a prosecutor and I was a public defender.
“I asked Mr. Brenner earlier if he would mind if we discussed a case in there privately, and he said it was no problem.” He held the door open for me and I walked inside. Thankfully, we were the only ones there. “I think that he may have suspected, though, because he did remind me that the negotiation room doors don’t lock.”
He led the way down the hall to the furthest room, and then stepped aside to let me pass by. I went in, flipped the light on, and turned to face him. I immediately recognized the look on his face, and my breathing quickened in response, as my pulse shot up. The hot Braden sex look always did me in.
“Just like old times,” I said in a husky voice.
“Watching you in court always turns me on,” he said crossing the room in one stride and pinning me up against the wall. He began trailing kisses up my neck and along my jaw. I sighed happily and buried my fingers in his hair.
“Watching that case turned you on? What are you a narcoleptic?” I teased and he laughed, which tickled my neck deliciously.
I pulled his mouth to mine, and took the initiative, letting my tongue explore freely. Suddenly, I wanted to make this beautiful man, whom I loved so much, feel really good. I grabbed that sexy ass of his, and ground my hips against him, reveling in how hard I could make him so quickly. I pushed him back and undid his trousers. Giving him a naughty smile, I dropped to my knees as he placed his palms flat against the wall to brace himself. “Oh yeah,” he said, his voice vibrating with arousal, as I freed him from his boxers.
Looking up into his eyes, I leaned in and ran my tongue teasingly around his tip, and then gripped him at the base, and slid him into my mouth until he hit up against the back of my throat. He let out a low groan that sent a surge of tingling warmth flowing between my legs. Exciting him excited me.
I knew what he liked and I gave it to him, twisting my fist as I pumped up and down, lightly scraping him with my teeth as I pulled him out of my mouth and sucked him back in, swirling my tongue along the sensitive underside, and then finally, reaching down between his legs to gently cup and squeeze his balls. Suddenly, he grabbed my head and held me still.
“Stop,” he bit out in a low, thick voice. “Ladies first.” I knew that making me come was important to Braden, and I wasn’t about to deny either one of us. I eased him out of my mouth and he helped me to my feet. It was his turn to drop to his knees.
He looked up at me with those eyes like the blue part of a flame, and eased my skirt up over my hips, tugging my panties down around my ankles and helping me out of them. He lifted my right leg, hooked it over his shoulder, and began trailing kisses along my inner thigh above the lacy top of my stocking.
I felt his warm breath caress me intimately a moment before his tongue did, and I gasped and leaned back, feeling the cool concrete press against my skin through the fabric of my blouse. His tongue lapped against my entrance, teasing me, and making me ache for him to fill me up. I whimpered and grabbed his hair, pressing myself harder against that silky mouth. The strokes he made grew broader, as he inched higher and higher. My muscles felt as tight as piano wire, while I waited with anticipation for the explosion of pleasure that I knew was seconds away.
The sounds of my rasping breath, and my low moans, echoed off the walls. He was still moving higher, getting so close, almost there. I was starting to shake, and then the velvety wet heat of his tongue rolled over my throbbing clit, and the leg supporting me gave out. He held me up in place with a steel grip at my waist, never even pausing, as he continued to drive me out of mind with his talented mouth. The ache grew so intense that I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to feel him inside me.
“Braden, please. Oh God, please Braden,” I begged in desperation, my voice rising in pitch. He knew what I wanted.
“Shh,” he warned and I felt him smile against me. He eased my leg down, stood up, and took me into his arms, guiding me toward the center of the room. “Do you think you can be quiet?” he whispered in my ear and I nodded mutely. I tended to be a rather noisy lover, but I had gotten better over time. “Bend over the desk, I’m going to take you from behind,” he instructed firmly, and I almost swooned.
I nodded again and leaned across the desk, feeling him ease my skirt up higher and caress my bottom. His fingers slid between my legs, stroking me, and testing to make sure I was ready fo
r him. Mother Nature had blessed Braden abundantly, and he was always careful not to hurt me. His fingers withdrew and I felt his hard length slide up against my wet heat. I braced myself.
“I’m ready,” I mumbled thickly, and he positioned himself to enter me, grabbed my hips, and slid home. I softly sobbed with pleasure and held onto the edge of the desk. “Yes.” I gasped. “More.” He rubbed my back with one hand and started talking to me in a low, seductive voice, while he pulled back and pushed into me harder.
“Baby you’re so sexy, so confident. I love watching you.” He pulled back again and thrust forward, filling me completely. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry out. “Love how strong you are, so beautiful. You get me so hard.” He started building his rhythm while he told me how much I excited him. God, I loved it when he talked to me like that while he took me. Braden and I knew just what to do to make each other feel good.
I got lost in sensation, somehow feeling every inch of my body, while at the same time, so intensely focused on the pleasure that flowed from between my legs, where he was pounding into me, up into my belly. I was dizzy with it, floating on a wave of bliss, and then I felt the delicious pressure begin to build and my tummy got tighter. I started to climb quickly, losing control of my body, half out my mind with ecstasy.
“Oh God. Oh God. Braden. Oh God!” My legs stiffened and I went over the edge as my inner muscles contracted forcefully. He knew I was coming, and he started pumping his hips harder and faster. The waves of heat crashed over me and I clenched against him over and over, shivering and moaning with orgasmic delight.
He slammed into me one final time and I felt his fingers dig into my skin as ground out “Gabrielle,” groaned, and went still. A few seconds passed with only the sound of us breathing heavily before he pulled back and eased me up, turning me around and pulling me into his arms as he leaned on the desk. We stood there holding each other while we recovered.
He looked down into my eyes. “It’s not just in court. I love watching you.” He paused and began to stroke my hair. “I love you.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
