Betty Johnson could tell by the pounding at the sides of her head that this was going to be a two Valium night. It was 7:30 pm, and she was still in the office. Sometimes she would look up at the clock, see how late it was, and wonder whatever could have possessed her to become a lawyer.
She had worked hard for her degree, unlike many of her colleagues. It seemed to Betty that there was entirely too much money involved in the practice of law. Too many lawyers with wealthy parents who could pay for their children to take the same classes over and over because Johnny was either too stupid to pass the first time, or too drunk.
Betty had worked her way through law school dancing at bachelor parties and birthday parties. It might not have been the most respected career, but it got her what she wanted; money for school, and a few other perks.
She had blossomed early, looked nineteen when she was only fourteen, twenty-one by the time she was sixteen. It didn't take long for her to find out how easy it was to manipulate men with her looks. And now that she was twenty-eight, she wasn't above flashing a little skin around the courtroom to get what she wanted.
Betty had represented seventeen cases in court. Many others she had plea-bargained or had dismissed, but it was the courtroom where she really shone. Not one of those seventeen cases had she lost. With a record like that, she could have easily taken a position at one of the fancier firms in Austin and started charging a thousand dollars an hour, but she never did. She always represented those who could not afford the best lawyers in the city, as long as they were men.
Like Sean Poe.
Sean Poe was a nobody. He had never done anything of worth with his life; he had no surviving relatives, and worked a crappy delivery job that paid minimum wage. His only talent was that he had won several knife-throwing contests. He was a person that no one would have ever heard of, or cared about, if he had not been brought up on charges for the rape and murder of twenty-nine women.
He was exactly the kind of client that Betty looked for, and when she found out that all of his victims had been blonde-haired and blue-eyed, just like her, it was icing on the cake.
She looked back at the clock. Five minutes past eight. She had reviewed every piece of evidence in Sean Poe's police file, preparing herself for meeting the man in person the next morning. It was time to go home. She needed to get into the shower and slide her fingers between her legs, relieving herself of all the sexual tension that had been growing in her as she thought about her upcoming case. As she thought about the offer she would be making to Sean Poe in just eleven hours.
The next morning she arrived at the county jail. "Do you have any nail files, mace, or anything that can be used as a weapon," the guard asked Betty, a little too harshly.
"No, I don't." She was standing in front of the bars that would allow her access to the jail. The dark gray walls, the fat flakes of peeling paint, the harsh fluorescent lighting; it all served to give even the entrance an atmosphere of confinement. It was very unsettling for Betty, who had always had an aversion to tight spaces. But when she thought about the men that were confined here, the suffering and agony they must be going through, it took her mind away from the growing panic of her claustrophobia and returned her thoughts back to where they should be - on her moistening pussy.
The guard took her purse and emptied the contents onto the steel countertop, leaving Betty wondering why he had bothered to ask if he was going to look anyway.
He gave her a long, lustful look before saying, "You'll have to wait twenty minutes until a female guard comes on duty."
"I can't wait twenty minutes. Do it yourself."
He responded with a smirk. "I'm not suppose' to frisk a female but, since you ask for it, I'll have to make an exception. Hold out your arms and spread your legs." It was more than a little evident that the lecherous guard was looking forward to frisking her. It was not often that such an attractive woman came through there.
She smiled to herself. Over the years she had developed an understanding of how desperate for sexual contact men could be. Right now, Sean Poe would be going though a full body strip search. Maybe even a cavity search. That idea wetted her already damp panties even further, and she wondered if the guard could feel it when he ran his hand between her legs.
After fondling every square inch of her body, the guard led her further into the jail. There was a special room set up where lawyers could meet with their clients. It barely passed as a conference room. The table and chairs were made of steel and bolted to the floor. She had asked once why everything in the jail was made of steel. The answer had shocked even her.
"It's easy to clean. These guys in here'll shit, piss, or jack off on just about anything they can. Shit soaks into wood, ruins it. But it cleans right off the stainless."
She had to wait a long time before Poe was finally led into the room by two guards, a man and a woman. It gave her time to arrange legal pads, folders, and files on the table. She wanted to impress him, and paperwork always seemed to do the trick when she was trying to look more professional.
Poe was chained at the wrists and ankles, another chain running between them. The guards shoved him into the chair roughly before walking back to the door.
"You need anything, Miss, you just yell. I'll be right outside," said the male guard. Betty nodded and dismissed him with a wave. She wasn't expecting any trouble from Sean Poe just yet.
"What do you want?" he asked, staring at the table.
"I want to help you, Sean. I want to be your lawyer."
"I've already got a lawyer."
"Who? A public defender who wants to see you get the death penalty just as much as the prosecutor? Don't forget where you are, Sean. This is Texas for Christ's sakes. Without my help, you're as good as dead."
He looked up for the first time. "What makes you think you can help me?"
"I've never lost before."
"I don't have any money, lady. You should know that."
"I'm not interested in money, Sean, and don't call me lady. My name is Betty."
"If you don't want money, then what do you want?" She could sense his lust growing by the way he was leaning forward, the way he looked into her eyes. She could hear the chains rattling as he worked his hands anxiously together beneath the table. Perhaps he was fantasizing about her. That was good. She would fan those fantasies to draw him out of his world and into her own.
"I want you, Sean. I wanted you as soon as I saw you on the news. You're famous now, powerful and, well I...I think you're sexy." She looked away, trying to look shy, coquettish. She even managed to blush a little, a trick she had learned in her dancing days.
"Do you know how many women I've killed?" he said. Was he trying to scare her? Did he want her to be afraid? Betty wondered if this was part of his game, or if he really didn't want her help. She had run across men before who were so determined to face their punishment and walk The Last Mile that even she couldn't talk them out of it.
"Of course I do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Poe didn't say anything. He stared at her across the table, as if analyzing her, trying to crack the code that would open up this new mystery to him.
"Maybe fear is the greatest aphrodisiac. Look," she said, bringing her powerful gaze back to his eyes. "What difference does it make why I want to be with you? I help you in court, get you off, and then," she smiled mischievously, "I can get you off. All I want is one day with you. Everybody wins." She waited for his answer, her pulse growing faster as the weight of the moment pressed against her.
After a long wait, he finally said, "Okay. You got yourself a deal." His smile was broad and chilling. Betty was sure each of his victims had seen that smile.
Betty walked back across the jail parking lot, unable to hide her grin. The familiar, throbbing ache had returned with fervor, a demand that would not wait for the privacy of her shower. She practically ran the last twenty yards to her BMW, would have sprinted if it weren't for the high heels she wore.
She slammed the car door behind her. It wouldn't wait a second longer. She needed it now, right now, and nothing was going to keep her from having it, even if an audience of nuns came to stand outside her car window.
She pulled her shirt up, desperately fumbling with her belt and the buttons of her pants. She had to a take a steadying breath to bring her hands back under control, she was so eager. Finally, the buttons came away and she drove her hand in, cupping her sex and squeezing forcefully.
She loved the feel of her pussy, so soft and smooth, and as hot as an oven. Very few men had ever been permitted the feeling of that warmth wrapped around their cock. And she was tight, even now, with her juices flowing so freely that she had to be gentle as she slid her middle finger inside. She grimaced and ground her teeth as the first burst of energy surged through her.
Her finger pulled upward, curling slightly, massaging her g-spot before she eased it back out, running it over the surface of her clit. A moan escaped her lips, soft and feminine at first, but growing deeper and more desperate as she continued to slide her finger over her clitoris, into her opening, across the soft bump of flesh inside and back out again, to repeat the motion. Her heart was racing, her breathing becoming so fast that it made her breasts shake, rubbing her sensitive nipples against the fabric of her blouse.
Faster now her finger danced, accelerating until it became a blur and the muscles in her arm burned. The pounding throb in her abdomen grew, building to an uncontrollable crescendo. Her head pulled back until she was looking at the roof of the car, her mouth frozen open, unable to draw breath. Everything was focused on the miracle that was about to occur.
The first spasm came and she took her hardened clit between her thumb and forefinger, pinching it, and everything that had been building up in the depths of her exploded outward. Her feet shoved against the floorboard and her hips bucked forward, slamming into the steering wheel. She arched so hard that the back of the seat creaked under the strain, and she cried out in ecstasy as wave after wave of orgasmic energy ran wild through her body.
Finally, it was over. She was able to breathe again, which she did in short gasps as every part of her was still shaking in the aftermath. She was covered in a sheen of sweat that had her clothes clinging tightly to her body. Her skin had flushed a deep crimson. It would be another fifteen minutes before her limbs would respond to her commands. As she sat there, trembling, occasionally laughing for no reason, she thought, "This is the best it's ever been."
