Friday, August 11th, 2006
"Come on in Candy," said Mel Brazier, the boss, as he waived her forward with this hand. "I have your final paycheck for the summer."
Candy checked to see that the correct name had been entered into the payee portion of check and the amount was what she expected. As always, the ten percent bonus covering the entire summer was particularly gratifying. Satisfied that all was as it should be, she tucked the check into her purse.
"We certainly had a good summer," he continued. "Made lots of money."
"I'm sure you made a lot more than I did, but I'm not complaining. Working here each summer has paid for everything I've needed over the past few years."
"Then I assume I can expect you back next year?"
"No Mel, this is the end of the line for me."
"Why?" he said, his voice rising a little in irritation.
"Because I have other plans for the future and I have enough money saved to pay for them. I appreciate the opportunity you have given me, but it's time to move on."
"But you're the best there is at your part of the business. I'll bump your pay another hundred per segment next summer. How about that?"
"Mel, you've bumped me a hundred every summer since the first year, plus a bonus at the end. You know I appreciate it, but I have to go."
"Okay, how about two hundred?"
"No thanks, Mel. You'll find a suitable replacement before I'm halfway home."
"That I doubt. Is there any way I can change your mind?"
"No."
"Well shit," he said softly as he stood up and offered his hand. "Good luck to you Candy. And if you change your mind, call me."
"I'm not going to change my mind Mel. You won't hear from me again. And good luck to you too," she said as she turned and walked toward the door.
"How can I reach you if we need to talk?"
"You can't."
Saturday, May 16th, 2015, 10:15 A.M.
Julie Anne Pearson sat on the deck in her back yard with a cup of tea, enjoying the late morning sun and counting her blessings. A graduate of Dartmouth with a Phi Beta Kappa key and a law degree from Harvard, she was superbly educated.
Julie was one of five attorneys in the violent crime section of the criminal division of New Hampshire's U.S. Attorney's office. She was in her seventh year on the job and was widely viewed as the successor to the Deputy Chief when he retired in a couple of years.
There was talk in the Justice Department of a judgeship in her future. Cocktail party conversation occasionally hinted at a seat on the Supreme Court someday. Julie dismissed such talk as alcohol-fueled nonsense; at least where the Supreme Court was concerned. As for a regular federal judge position, that was her professional goal and she had no reason to believe it wouldn't happen someday. She was good at what she did, she knew it, and so did everyone else.
The past week had been a good one all around. She presented her case against Roberto Gonzales to the Deputy Chief on Monday and was given the green light to take the case to the grand jury. Gonzales was at the top of New Hampshire's pyramid of heroin dealers. Dubbed 'The Magician' by criminals and law enforcement alike, Roberto had thirteen arrests, one indictment, and no convictions. His one trial resulted in a not guilty decision by a jury everyone believed had been tampered with but no one could prove it.
This time, Julie had Roberto in her sights with an ironclad case put together by a joint task force of DEA and state police agents. Roberto was going down and staying there. He would most likely spend the rest of his life looking through bars.
A terrible drug epidemic had taken hold of New Hampshire, perhaps the last state one would expect to find such a problem. The state's addiction rate on a per capita basis was among the highest in the nation. New Hampshire averaged one overdose death per day. Taking Roberto Gonzales out of circulation was expected to put a serious dent in the heroin trade and give the state some breathing room to attack the problem.
Aside from professional success, Julie had another reason to be grateful. Today was her thirty-second birthday and tonight she would celebrate it with Rick, her husband of five years. They would go to dinner at some classy restaurant chosen by him, he would present her with a carefully selected gift, and then they would return home to have sensational sex. At least one mind-blowing orgasm would top off a perfect day.
Rick Pearson was an artist who specialized in waterfowl art. He was a perennial finalist in the national and state duck stamp competitions. He had won the national contest once and he had three state wins under his belt. His paintings commanded impressive prices. While Julie's salary as a government lawyer was far less than she could earn in private practice, her income combined with Rick's gave them a very comfortable living and allowed them both to pursue work they loved.
Rick did his work in a rented guesthouse he had been allowed to turn into a studio. It had a bedroom, galley kitchen, bathroom, and a living room with skylights to provide the perfect environment for his work.
****
Julie heard footsteps in the house, rousing her from her reverie.
"Who's there?" she called out, smiling to herself.
"It's me, your husband Rick."
"Oh," she replied, fake disappointment dripping off her voice as she maintained her smile.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked as he stepped out onto the deck.
"Superman called earlier. He was going to stop by for a quickie, but now you've spoiled everything."
"Looks like I got home just in time then," he said as he bent to kiss his wife. "You'll just have to settle for me."
"Oh, I suppose, but I was so looking forward to Supersex." It was a long standing joke they both enjoyed. Only the superhero varied from time to time.
"Come with me," Rick ordered, taking his wife's hand and pulling her to her feet.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Inside for that quickie. We can't do it out here."
"Why not. We did it out here on the chaise lounge just last week."
"It was dark out here when we did it," he reminded her.
"Oh yeah, I forgot," she replied with a grin as she followed him into the family room.
Julie was wearing short shorts and a T-shirt with no bra. Rick had her stripped of clothing within seconds and then paused for a moment to admire her body. She was a small woman at only five-three, weighed just over a hundred pounds, had splendid legs, narrow hips, and small but perfectly formed breasts with alert nipples. Her face was a classic oval, framed by thick blonde hair, with the delicate features of a child. In the years he had known her, she had shown no signs of aging. At thirty two, she looked twenty and Rick thought she was devastatingly beautiful.
By the time he removed his clothing, he was already erect and Julie was seated on the sofa.
"Let me lubricate that thing for you," she said, leaning forward to take Rick's cock into her mouth. For the next minute or so she concentrated on her task, then repositioned herself on her back and opened her legs.
Rick quickly knelt between his wife's inviting thighs and eased his cock into her pussy. The quickie was underway.
"Fuck me hard," whispered Julie, knowing she would cum in less than a minute if he obeyed her command.
"You mean like Superman?" he whispered into her ear.
"Exactly," she whispered back.
Rick began to pound his cock into her as hard as he could. Julie's estimate was pretty accurate. About a minute later she let out a loud shriek as a series of orgasmic tremors sliced through her body. Seconds later Rick exploded into her with a loud groan.
They stayed where they were for a long time, part of Rick's weight pressing his diminutive wife down into the sofa cushions, the remainder supported by his elbows and knees.
Finally he withdrew and sat back to admire her body once more. She remained in place, her legs widely splayed, her inner thighs and small tuft of blonde hair glistening with the byproducts of their coupling. For about the millionth time, Rick marveled at his good fortune.
"I hope you don't think this lets you off the hook for tonight," Julie murmured. "All you've done is prime the pump."
"I suppose I can summon enough energy. I'll do my best."
Julie knew that his best would be wonderful. She had experienced sex with other men before she met Rick, but she had never encountered anyone like him. All her orgasms were self-inflicted until the night they had sex for the first time. He played her body like a fine instrument for more than an hour before she experienced her first orgasm in the arms of a man, and then promptly burst into tears. Rick seemed to understand and held her tightly until she was calm. Later, he wasn't surprised when she told him she had never before experienced an orgasm during sex.
From that night on, they made love often. Rick maintained that sex was the nicest thing that could happen to them on any given day, so they would be crazy to pass up an opportunity. Julie was in complete agreement. In the years they had been together, they had sex nearly every night. Rick was a skillful, thoughtful lover who viewed Julie's pleasure as his sole responsibility. Except for the occasional quickie like the one they just enjoyed, he took plenty of time tending to her needs, ensuring that her orgasms were plentiful and supremely pleasurable.
Men hit on Julie frequently because of her exposure to legions of lawyers and law enforcement personnel in the course of her work. She had no interest in other men but was adept at spurning their advances with kindness, knowing she would have to work with many of those same people throughout her career. Eventually, word got around and the only men who tried to make a run at her were rookie cops and newly minted lawyers.
On the other hand, Julie was not above using her looks to gain an advantage in court. She had perfected a somewhat absent-minded demeanor that, when combined with her physical beauty, caused many of her newer courtroom opponents to dismiss her as nothing more than a token blonde in the U.S. Attorney's office. They did so at their own peril. Julie had not lost a case since her first few months on the job.
"C'mon, you little slut. Let's clean up the mess we've made and go to lunch," Rick suggested as he surveyed the wet spot in the center of the middle sofa cushion.
"Me? A slut? I'm too small to fight you off, so I had to let you have your way with me," Julie said with a smile. "Thank goodness for Scotch Guard," she added.
