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Sex Story



*

I returned to the office after the sun went down and the library closed. The wind cut through me and I looked forward to the train ride home. There was a new case on my desk with a sticky note stating that we needed a motion to dismiss and motion to suppress statements. I took the file to read on the train. It was a murder case and reality set in. Our twenty year old client, Charles Johnson, in a flash of uncontrolled rage had stomped on his girl-friend's two-year old daughter to shut her up, thus ending her life and his own; because although we have no death penalty in this state, life in prison without the possibility of parole adds up to the same thing.

Usually I'm okay with cases; I focus on the issues, but I was feeling particularly vulnerable and the circumstances were heartbreaking. When I read in the autopsy report about the partially digested bologna sandwich in the victim's stomach my gut twisted and I forced down the lump in my throat. I thought back to the moment when she was eating, back when she was alive and death and murder were nowhere in sight, so that when I got to the Grand Jury minutes and read that John Hawkins was the DA on the case I realized with certainty that I couldn't continue with the pretense. Life had intruded. He called that night and I didn't answer the phone.

The following day I was back at the court house to file papers when the elevator doors opened to reveal him standing in the corner at the back. Coincidence? I think not. Life is intentionally cruel. He smiled and I thought of waiting for another car, but walked in and stood with my back to him in the center as more people entered. He didn't know that everything had changed and likely attributed my indifference to caution. As the car filled I was pushed back toward his corner until my back pressed up against him. Did I mention life is cruel? Internally I swore a blue streak that no one has ever heard pass my lips.

The elevator was warm and close as bodies shuffled against each other. The doors opened periodically signaling an exchange of people in a dance of humanity. His heat radiated toward me pulling me into his sphere and I felt his cock harden against my back. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him while the papers I intended to file covered his hand. My body softened and I let him hold me, caught between my duty and my need. When I reached my floor I moved to get off, but he stopped me and I didn't struggle. We stayed on the elevator until the car emptied and we were alone heading back down. Before we arrived at the next level I stepped forward and pulled the stop button.

I intended to tell him I couldn't go on, but when I faced him he put his arms around me and kissed me. His lips were moist and tasted salty sweet as I passed my tongue on the edge of them and felt his warm breath on my face as he opened his mouth to take in my tongue. My resolve abandoned me and I knew we did not have much time. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him down until he was sitting in front of me and straddled him as he brought his hands up to hold my waist. I looked in his eyes with such need I was astonished he could withstand the demand and kissed him with urgency as I sat on him and ground my hips. I moaned with the sudden intensity of the moment and felt his cock continue to harden against his trousers and my crotch. "You don't frighten me," he whispered as he moved his hands under my skirt.

I lifted myself while he unzipped his pants and brought out another condom. I took it from his hand as he kissed me, and ripped it open and put it on his cock now fully hard and stiff, and moving my panties aside, brought it to my opening wet with my arousal. I felt the tip against the entrance to my cunt and slowly descended on his cock as he placed his hands on my ass. As I felt the head spread my lips and enter me, the spasms of my orgasm overcame me and my muscles gripped his cock. "Ah," I exhaled softly and pushed to continue my descent as he held onto me, forcing his cock through the pulses of the muscles that tightened around him until he was buried to the root. I stopped and leaned toward him my hair falling in my face and gasped against him while my body continued to throb. When my spasms subsided I opened my eyes and looked into his, breathing heavily and bending to kiss him I again ground my hips so that I could feel him within me, filling me. I tasted his lips and tongue as I rose and fell on his cock and he thrust his hips to meet me guiding me with his hands. I rose from my knees with my hands on his shoulders to lengthen his strokes. Over and over I drew out the length of his cock to the head and then plunged the whole within me. I moved faster and each time I felt his balls against my ass, he dug in his heels to second me, piercing me with increased force until he lifted me and sent me over the edge. He came as I cried out and thrust through the pulsing grip of my muscles. When the crisis passed, I relaxed and fell on him.

"I should not have done that," I said as my eyes filled with tears. I felt trapped by the elevator, by circumstances, by everything I could not control. He brushed my hair from my face and assessed that I was on the verge of devolving into a horror show. He put his forehead against mine and brought his hand under my hair to the nape of my neck.

"Everything will be alright," he whispered. His words, his voice calmed me. I wanted to believe him. If he had said anything else I don't know how I would have reacted, but I moved off him, picked up my papers and waited by the elevator buttons to release the stop with my back to him as he arranged his clothes.

"I'm working on the Johnson murder," I said. "I can't do this."

"I didn't realize he had switched lawyers."

"Well, now you know," I said as I pushed the stop button and the elevator began to move.

We rode in silence until the doors opened to reveal a group of people waiting to board. I recognized Simon James, a fifty something attorney from the firm in the crowd looking first at me and then to John. I avoided him and left without looking back. I dropped off the pleadings and walked back to the firm, went to my office and shut the door. I attempted to focus on work and replace my dilemma with a useful purpose. I tried to concentrate, but I was distraught. It seemed every step I had taken to get to this moment had been misplaced. I could not gain perspective, could not think straight. I thought I could cry myself out of it, cry until I was exhausted and then go on, continue because there would be no other option. A knock on the door interrupted my motivational reverie.

I wiped my eyes and stretched trying to gain my composure and said, "come in." Simon opened the door, entered and shut it behind him as though he was slinking behind the curtain of the X-rated movie section at the video store. He had a "cat that ate the canary" look, and I knew if he was the cat, I was the canary. "What's up with you and Hawkins?" he asked with a knowing grin.

"I don't know what you mean," I said without, I hoped, any expression. But I am a bad liar -- I blush, fidget, avoid eye contact and look down. It doesn't take a rocket scientist, or any kind of scientist, to figure out that I'm lying.

"You fucked him, didn't you?" It was a rhetorical question. I didn't answer. I suppose my response should have been feigned outrage to keep up the illusion, but I didn't have the energy and I knew I was beaten.

"What do you want?" I asked meeting his eyes. "I want you."

I didn't have to feign outrage then, I felt it spread through me like fire and rose from my seat. I walked toward the door to open it and tell him to get out. As I reached for the knob he grabbed my wrist and spun me around.

"Do you think this is game?" he hissed, his face contorted with anger and disgust. He frightened me and I cringed, hating that he could make me cower. "Let go of me," I said and tried to shake off his grasp. He pulled me to him by my wrist and brushed the side of my face with the back of his other hand. He bent to kiss me and I turned my head. He pinched my cheeks with his hand and made me face him.

"If you don't cooperate I'll let everyone know your little secret. You'll lose your job and if that doesn't matter to you, Hawkins will lose his as well and likely lose his ticket. How many cases do you think you've compromised?" he spat. He let go of my face and turned his back to me. I should have run, but I didn't. I thought I could reason with him. "You'll damage the reputation of the firm," I said. "I won't see him again. I'm not going to see him again." I swallowed my commitment to my impulsive resolution.

He turned back to me with a smirk. "You should have thought of that before you spread your legs, sweetheart." I knew he was being deliberately crude to shock me, to control me, to scare me. "You're married," was all I could muster as though that has ever stopped a man from fucking another woman.

"Here," he said taking a key from his pocket and handing it to me, "meet me at the Estate Motel, room 9, at 8:00 tonight." When I didn't take it, he took my hand and put the key in my palm where I thought it would burn a hole. I glared at him and he smiled. "I keep a room there to take advantage of opportunities as they arise. Be there or don't bother coming in to work tomorrow." He pulled me towards him again. "I'm gonna make you scream," he whispered in my ear as he ran his hand down my back and groped my ass. Then he left.

Everything about Simon made me seethed. I marveled that the thought of identical acts with different men could evoke such contrasting emotions. The confrontation left me nauseous, guilt ridden, and shaken, but it had the desired effect; my desire, not Simon's. Purpose replaced my despair and freed my mind. Like the Grinch on the mountaintop I got a wonderful, awful idea, but instead of my heart growing three sizes, I grew a pair.

I grabbed the dictaphone from my desk and when I was sure I was the last person on the premises I walked over to the safe used to keep client confidences. I knew the combination and had opened and used the safe many times. I took out a semi-automatic handgun: Fabrique Nationale D'Armes de Guerre Herstal Belgique, .32 caliber, serial no. A86540. The gun was a murder weapon that had never been found. From my research on the case I knew it was the same type of gun used to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand at the start of WWI and that this particular weapon dated to WWII. I had never held a gun and felt an electric surge run through me as I handled it. I ran my fingers along the smooth barrel and felt the satisfying heft in my hand. It reminded me of the first time I held a cock; the strength, power, the potential, excitement and fear. I took the gun and a clip with two rounds, and four additional .32 caliber rounds in a black pouch, and put them in my pocketbook with the recorder. I walked out into the night knowing it would mean a one year minimum mandatory prison sentence for carrying a firearm without a license if I was caught, and made my way to the Estate Motel toward the possibility of a far greater punishment.

I know what you're thinking, "now she's lost her mind," and again you may be right, but at the time it all made absolute sense to me as though there was no other course; the rightness of it plain and undeniable. In my operator's manual sexual blackmail was under the section "Do Not Attempt."

The Estate Motel was a one-level monstrosity of fourteen units sprawled into an L shape with an office at one end. What was not building was asphalt parking lot. A large neon sign on top of the office announced "E. . ate Motel" and made the motel look like a giant segmented centipede with a hat. I arrived at the motel before 8:00 and before Simon. I went straight to the room avoiding any staff and noticed there were no surveillance cameras in the parking lot or along the corridor of doors. The air in the room was clammy and smelled of mildew and stale cigarette smoke. A garish brown and tan flowered comforter covered the double bed in the center of the room. On a small table beside the bed were a telephone, bible, heavy ashtray and a fringed lamp. The objects were shabby and used like items found at a yard sale. I put the bible and ashtray in the drawer and took the telephone cord and put it in my pocketbook. I sat in a chair beside the bed, the furthest from the door.

At ten past eight I heard a rattle at the door and Simon entered. When he saw me his face lit up with a triumphant grin and I had half a mind to shoot him right then, but the other half stopped me. He threw off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. I turned on the dictaphone in my pocketbook, placed it at my feet and stood up.

"I have a proposition," I said.

"Oh, do you?" he leered at me.

"I thought maybe you'd like me to strip for you or do you just want to fuck?"

He licked his lips in surprise. "Wow, you don't waste any time. You'll strip for me?" he asked in astonishment.

"Yes, didn't I just say I would," I purred, or at least I tried to purr. "But," I added, "you can't touch me until I say you can."

He smiled and nodded in agreement. Although I knew he believed he could touch me whenever he wanted I also knew he would humor me as long as he enjoyed the game. "You are a little slut, aren't you?" he said as he sat at the edge of the bed facing me.

I stretched and brought my hands under my hair, lifted my arms and arched my back. As I put my arms down, my hair fell on my shoulders framing my face and I began to unbutton my blouse. He stared at me and took off his tie. I peeled off my blouse and dropped it, then I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to my feet. I stepped out of my skirt and kicked it aside. As I stood in my underwear, thigh high stockings and heels in front of him, he sucked in a breath.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked.

"Yah," he exhaled.

"What?" I said, "I can't hear you."

"Yes," he said louder.

I unhooked my bra and pulled it off one arm at a time then dropped it on my blouse. My nipples hardened from the cool air and I caressed my breasts with my hands and moaned. He moved to get up and I took a step back.

"No touching," I said, "not yet. But you can join me. Why don't you take off your shirt?" He relaxed back onto the bed and removed his shirt.

"Mmm," I said, "I like a man with hair on his chest."

I put my thumbs on either side of my panties and slowly pulled them down my legs and stepped out of them. As I stood up he gasped and the arousal that comes with power consumed me. I felt the lips of my cunt swell and slid one open hand down over my stomach to my slit, brushed my clit and dipped a finger into my wetness while I brought the other hand up to my breast and pinched my nipple.

"Jesus," he said.

"Take off your pants. I want to see your cock," I demanded looking at him. I was close to losing control and the tenuousness, the danger of my position added to my exhilaration. He rose and stood about three feet from me and took off his pants and briefs revealing his stiff cock jutting from between his legs.

"Do you want to fuck me?" I asked. He took a step toward me.

"Sshh, wait," I said stretching out the word and he stopped. "I want to taste your cock." I licked my lips. "Close your eyes," I said. And he did.

From Simon's shock and reaction when he opened his eyes I may have seemed a wild naked woman shaking a gun at him, but in my mind's eye and in my memory my hand was steady and I was calm. "What the . . . ," he stammered.

"Shut the fuck up and sit down," I warned from six feet away with my pocketbook and both our clothes beside me. He was afraid or I should say he was more afraid than I was. I was willing to play my cards and lose what I had put down. I was all in. It was an orchestrated bluff and I was committed to it. He sat on the bed and his cock wilted.

"Let me tell you what just happened," I said. "I have a tape I can send your wife." I took out the recorder and showed it to him. "And I'm sure she'd be interested that you keep a room here to take advantage of opportunities." I had met Simon's wife several times at firm events and she struck me as a woman who would not suffer infidelity.

"You've gone mad," he said.

"You should hope not," I said. I didn't know if I would pull the trigger, but I believed I could.

"I won't tell anyone about you and Hawkins. Is that what you want?"

"Yes, but that's not all." He waited for me to continue. "I can't work with you at the firm after this," I said waving the gun and indicating the situation. He recoiled and the realization that he also believed I could fire gave me courage. "I think it's time you opened your own shop."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

"I want you to resign and leave the firm."

"You're fucking crazy."

"No, I'm greedy. But not as greedy as your wife would be."

"I'll have to think about it," he pleaded.

"Do I look like I'm negotiating?" I said in my best George Clooney imitation because life is sometimes exactly like the movies. I almost laughed but counseled myself to remain alert and cautious. I didn't want to be, well, cocky. While he considered I bent down and put the recorder in my pocketbook and with my free hand began to dress never losing sight of him as he squirmed searching for a break. When I was finished, except for my bra and buttoning my blouse for which I needed two hands, I straightened with the gun still on him. "Think of it as taking advantage of a different kind of opportunity," I said. I picked up my pocketbook and his clothes and moved toward the door.

"You're taking my clothes?" he asked.

"Of course, I don't want you following me."

"How am I supposed to get home without my clothes?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"You fucking bitch."

"Yes, but I'm not your fucking bitch," I said and walked out of the room. After I closed the door I stuffed the gun in my pocketbook, dropped his clothes in the dumpster and ran. I didn't stop until I was out of breath and leaned against a telephone pole. I buttoned my blouse with my hands shaking and my heart racing in relief and disbelief. I went back to the firm and put the gun and ammunition back in the safe and took the cassette of our rendezvous with me. I felt like the director of a play at the end of the first act and focused on the next challenge -- luring John Hawkins to the dark side.

TO BE CONTINUED . . . .