An Afternoon Jog

An Afternoon Jog - Chapter 3

This work of FICTION contains themes of non-consent, humiliation, abuse and other kinks. This is meant as entertainment to bring enjoyment, not as something that should be carried out. If this offends you, please do not read. Also, there seems to be a lot of words before we get to the action.

I went with my client to the Courthouse Cafe and bought her a latte. I knew that she would listen to me for as long as the drink would last so I bought her a venti. We stood at a counter sipping our drinks. I talked. She pretended to listen. This was her second strike, less than 3 months after her first arrest. The current offer from the DA was 360 days. 3 months in county lockup and the other 9 months would be probation. Or she could testify that she was a sex trafficking victim. She had several of the signs. She wore his tattoo. He bought her the drugs she took. He gave her the bruises on her body. But none of that would matter if she wouldn't testify that her pimp was forcing her. Any DAs would love to make that deals. A sex trafficking conviction would help in the press and make for good marks at the annual review so it was becoming a more popular offer, but my clients never took their deal. Seriously, these DAs don't think about anyone else's point of view. If a guy has already convinced a woman to take a series of strangers' cocks down her throat or in her pussy for money that she then hands over to him, why would anyone think she would testify against him? But I guess they felt like they had to try. It never worked, but I was obligated to present the offer, so I did. But she 'loves' him, or at least loves the drugs he gives her and he loves her, or at least the money she makes for him so as expected she rejected the offer. We finished our lattes and said our good byes. I promised to do my best, but I already knew she was going to get 10 weeks in county and the rest of the year on probation. Maybe if I wore a short skirt I could get it down to 8 weeks. At least it wasn't going to be a felony. Maybe she'll find Jesus in prison otherwise she'd have her third strike within the year.

Before I left the courthouse I took out my phone. I had 3 texts, two from Paul. The first was the place and time for lunch the next day. 2:30 at a steakhouse. The second from Paul came about a half hour later asking me if to clear my calendar after lunch for the rest of the day. I didn't respond right away. I got back to the office, updated my case notes, cleared my calendar and put in for a half personal day the next day. By 4pm I was finally able to confirm his plans, though I did have to delay the start an hour. It ended up being a late night preparing for Thursday, but around 10pm I headed home.

Wednesday was a pretty straightforward morning, and at 2 I left my desk. I went to the office gym and used the locker room to shower and change. Since I wasn't due in court I had worn a more casual blouse and a pair of slacks, but I wanted to make a better impression for Paul than the sundress he saw me in last time so I wore black pantyhose, my classic sleeveless "little black dress", which has a very deep neckline and an even deeper back. Of course I wore a jacket to cover my exposed arms, shoulder and back. 4 inch heels, a strand of fake pearls around my neck and 1 inch silver hoop earrings completed my look. Putting on my makeup actually took longer than getting dressed, but by 3:15 I was ready. I picked up my clutch and his shirt that I had boxed at the cleaners and called a Lyft to take me to the restaurant.

I would have been on time, but my first driver canceled and I ended up being about 5 minutes late. The maitre d' took my jacket and the box with Paul's shirt before escorting me to the table. Being between normal meal times, the place was nearly empty and as we approached the table I could see that Paul was not alone. A second, older man, maybe in his mid fifties, and fit, muscular even was sitting across from Paul. His scalp was cleanly shaven. Introductions were made and he had a firm handshake. The maitre d' pulled out a chair between Paul and Luke Hume, Paul's boss. My sundress was draped over the back of a chair across from me, with Paul sitting on my left and Mr. Hume on my right.

I mentioned that I had left Paul's shirt with my jacket at the coat check. I really wanted them to know I had worn a jacket. I offered to retrieve the shirt but Paul declined and instead suggested that he would also check my dress. In a moment he was standing with my dress in one hand and the claim ticket in his other, leaving me alone at the table with Mr. Hume. I felt his eyes roam over my body. My pale exposed skin reflected the light like nothing else in the restaurant except the tablecloths. I was aware that I needed to sit up straight or he would get a view of my tit. Best not to order the soup today.

Mr. Hume spoke to me with a voice that was seasoned. It seem comfortable with itself, and just a hint of gravel as if there had once seen some years of heavy smoking. "Paul told me about your little misadventure the other night." I shouldn't have been shocked, with the dress sitting right there it had to be asked about. And anyone would need to answer their boss. Or maybe he was bragging about how easily he was able to talk me into his bead. "You simply have to tell me, how was your trip home that night?"

I wasn't sure that I really had to tell him anything, but I was facing a choice, either give at least a polite answer or this was about to be a very uncomfortable meal. Or I could leave. I could walk out and never see Paul again. Ultimately though I was curious as to what Mr. Hume was doing here and I could always walk out later if I didn't like where things were headed so I vaguely answered, "It was interesting." An answer. A safe answer. It didn't tell him anything that he didn't already know. It didn't really say anything.

"I'm sure it was. Tell me, did you walk home? Drive yourself? or take a taxi?"

Was this multiple choice? "None of the above, I called for a Lyft." It was a detail, it was information, but it let me steer the conversation away from that night. "I used Lyft to come here today too. That is why I was a little late today, my first driver canceled on me." I used 'today' twice, that should have reframed the conversation, shifting the topic to the here and now, but it didn't.

"Was your driver late picking you up on Sunday night too?" It was a good question. Acknowledging what I had just said, but directing me back to the topic that he wanted to discuss. Sunday night. A topic I didn't want to discuss. I was wondering if Mr. Hume was a lawyer used to giving depositions and if I was good enough to control the conversation. I suspected I wasn't, but I wasn't going to give up.

"No. It was late at night and while it did take him longer than normal to arrive, he came right when Lyft said he would" I noticed he was actually looking at me in the eyes. I expected to find him looking at my chest. I wasn't happy that I had worn this dress and wished I had kept the jacket on - or was still in my work clothes. But I was here to spend time with Paul, on a date, and I thought Paul would like this dress. I was sure Mr. Hume liked it. Where the fuck was Paul? I glanced over my shoulder but didn't see Paul. Shit I left the conversation on Sunday. I wasted a move.

Mr. Hume waited a beat and I filled the silence before it became awkward. "I called for the car as I left the elevator and since Paul's shirt was really too short to pass for a dress I sat in one of those lobby armchairs where I could hide most of my legs until I saw he was just a minute away. The I went outside to meet him at the curb. I probably didn't wait outside more than 30 seconds." I recalled how the cool air on my legs felt, how the cold pillar of the building felt against my ass as I leaned on it waiting.

"Tell me, did anyone say anything about how you were dressed?"

My memory returned to my driver, heavily accented, saying, "Walk of shame miss? Well no judgement here. A good shag is a good thing." It sounded more like 'thang' when he said it.

I decided to give a different answer though. "I walked through the lobby and stood waiting for the car and no one said anything to me. When I stood still at least all the important parts were covered and you would be surprised at where a confident stride will get you." I decided to boast a little, "It was late but there still had to be at least 6 or 9 people who saw me before I got into the car but not a one of them said a word to me." Every word of that was true. The driver, said something only after I got in the car.

"Ah, the advantages of being young, beautiful and female." He gave out a little laugh.

"Excuse me?" The feminist in me was irked and I was sure it came out in my voice. That night was hard and he had no right to belittle what I went through.

"I didn't mean to upset you, and I'm sure it was awkward for you, but let me ask you to imagine me in that situation for a moment." He went on, "Honestly ask yourself, if it was me that had stepped out of that elevator without wearing slacks, how far would I have gotten? Would security have approached me while I was still sitting in the armchair or would they have waited until I was outside?"

Tried to think of him with thin hairy legs coming out of a pair of loose tighty-whities. I couldn't help but smile as I replied, "I guess I see your point."

He went on, "Please understand, I mean no disrespect." He was looking directly at my eyes, "I've learned that neither gender is superior to the other, but there are difference and some of those differences can be used as situational advantages. Even different ages have differences. Youth have energy and idealism, the aged have wisdom and experience. The key to running a successful organization is to take advantage of the strengths of everyone, and don't try to make people into what they are not."

This was beginning to sound a lot like gender roles and glass ceilings to me. I don't know where this came from, but I asked, "So, why don't you try it?"

"Excuse me?" Mr. Hume was as surprised as I was by that question.

"I said, 'Why don't you try it?' I would bet you no one says anything to you. In part because of the black card in your wallet, but in part because they would fell uncomfortable to speak up." I locked my eyes on his. I was daring him.

"So a wager then?"

"A wager?"

"I'm not going to remove my trousers on a dare without some potential benefit for me, so a wager. I'll remove my trousers and if no one asks me about it, then you win. If anyone asks me about it, I win."

"Win what?"

"I don't think money would be very interesting, so how about oral sex? I think that would be best. The loser gives the winner head."

I coughed. "And if I don't want 'head'?" I tried to picture this bald head between my legs. I was not aroused.

"Trust me, you want head from me, I'm very good. But I'm open to other idea, not that it matters since I'm going to win this bet."

He was cocky. "You can get me a new bespoke suit for court. Skirt, jacket, blouse and accessories."

"Agreed." He started unbuckling his belt. I watched this grown man lift his hips and slide his pants down his thighs. His slate blue boxers came into view. The silk gapped where it split and I could see his fat dick peeking out through the slit in his shorts. I was surprised. I was surprised that he did it, I was surprised at the size of his cock.

I think it showed on my face, Mr Hume asked Paul. I hadn't noticed that Paul had returned, but he asked Paul if he had a paper. He didn't but the waiter was able to provide. Mr. Hume handed me the paper and a very nice pen he took from his pocket and he told me, "Write something down on that paper for me."

I didn't know where this was going so I resisted, "What should I write?"

"Write anything." He answered, Then getting specific he suggested, "How about writing, 'I use my strengths everyday.'" I wrote it. When I was done he said, "Now put your pen in your other hand and write it again." I hesitated and looked at Paul who looked amused.

Paul just shook his head knowingly and said, "Just do it." I tried, but even I could barely read what I had written.

Mr. Hume waited for me to finish. "Well one hand is certainly better at that than the other. Tell me, how many hours a week do you spend trying to get your off hand to be as good as your primary hand?"

I was confused, "None, I don't do that. Why would anyone do that?"

"And right you are not to. You don't need both hands to be able to write. Spending time on the other hand is a waste of time. Time that could be spent on something more productive. In my staff meetings we call that an opportunity cost. The loss of the benefit of what our staff could have been doing if they were not doing something frivolous or inefficient."

He continued, "In my firm I have lawyers that are great at client relationships, others who are great at writing briefs, others that are great at research, others who are great at jury trials, other who are great at bench trials. Shall I go on?"

"I think I get the point."

"Think about your week so far, how many different hats, different jobs have you had to do this week?"

"Hmm, since Monday? Monday morning I was taking depositions. I had to prep my client for one of them. The other was a witness for the other side. Then there was more time with my client afterwards, then after I verified the transcripts. After that was done I could get to researching and writing my briefs. Trading them with someone else for proof reading, finally editing and submitting them." I went on, "Tuesday I was in court, just one client. I have to prepare her for the very likely case that she is going to jail for a bit. I took today light, just prepping for two more clients I need to be in court with tomorrow before taking off this afternoon to spend time with Paul and you."

Mr. Hume let me finish. "Exactly, I've seen that a thousand times. So, when you consider all of those different roles, you can't possibly be equally good at everything, so what are you best at?"

That's when it hit me, this was a job interview. Or at least a pre-interview. I wonder how long before I got to the "So where do you see yourself in 5 years? In 10? in 15?" I quickly tried to get my game face on, "I think it is very important that early in their career a lawyer be versatile, finding not only their strengths but also where their interests lie. If they are lucky they will find an intersection."

"Horseshit."

Paul laughed just once as Mr. Hume spat the word at me.

"That's horseshit and you know it." Mr Hume said, "If you were really looking to diversify your experiences you wouldn't have joined a non-profit criminal defense firm specializing in providing a criminal defense to those who can't afford it where all you see are the same 20 charges over and over. Now I don't tolerate horseshit, but since we've just met I'll give you a pass just this once. Now this time, try not to simply quote something from a how to be interviewed law school textbook and think about and answer my question. What. Are. You. Best. At?"

I paused. I had nothing. I thought about walking out, but before I did my answer hit me. "Working directly with the clients." After I said it I wasn't really sure if this was actually what I was best at or just what I wanted to be best at, but I already gave my answer so I stuck to it.

He nodded and asked me to elaborate.

"I get to see my clients on their worst days. Few have ever admitted it, but I've seen the look in their some of their eyes as they contemplate suicide. Others are mad as hell and just want to fight everything and everyone even me. Some just want to give up and crawl into a hole and let life pass them by. But I help them. I convince them I'm going to work for them. Work with them. I can't reach them all, but the percent of my clients who miss hearings, or at least miss without telling me is way lower than everyone else. I may not always be able to help them avoid a conviction, but most of them, even the ones going to jail, thank me for one thing or another. For listening. For being there. For trying. I try hard to let them feel like they have me on their side. To let them know someone will stand up for them."

"I believe you." The table was silent for a moment. The waiter came by and we ordered some cocktails before Mr Hume said, "Let me ask you one more question while we wait for our drinks. Why criminal defense? Specifically why did you join your firm instead of being a public defender?"

"Will I could give you the horseshit about bringing justice to the oppressed, providing legal defense to people who can't afford it. But that's just the elevator pitch and I know you don't want horseshit." I was actually impressed with myself for daring to swear in front of this man. I was pretty sure that he was able to respect, maybe even appreciate, a girl with a dirty mouth, "But the truth is, coming out of law school I put resumes everywhere. Public service, on either side, seemed like it was a factory churning through too many cases with not enough pay. Corporate seemed to offer the possibility of a long term payoff, but I didn't go to Harvard or Yale and even if I could land the job the first few years would be hell. But in the end I did what most anyone would do, I took the highest offer. An extra 5 grand in starting salary probably means close to an extra half million in lifetime earnings. Maybe more. I've already started to put that extra 5k into my partnership account."

"So it was all about the money?" I think Mr. Hume was smiling.

"Ultimately, yes." I answered. "I'm sure whatever job I took I'd have been able to come up with an elevator pitch that made it sound like I was being noble. But the reality is, cash is king and I have loans." I chose this answer because I thought Mr. Hume would respect it. The truth is I hated my hours and all the losing, but I loved my clients. The whores, thieves, taggers and even the gangbangers.

Our drinks came, and we ordered. I ordered the 4 ounce filet, medium-rare and some asparagus. The waiter convinced me to try the French onion soup. Paul ordered a ribeye while Mr. Hume ordered a 6 ounce filet and a bottle of wine, an impressive Napa Valley cab.

As the waiter took our menus and retreated I said to Mr. Hume, "It's my turn to ask you a question Mr. Hume. Why did you join our date? I don't imagine you knew much about me." I paused a moment, "Unless Paul told you about our first meeting, and yet you still wanted to meet me."

"Well to be truthful, Paul is in town to search for some local talent for my firm. And he did tell me about your meeting. You made an impression on him and when he learned you were a lawyer he wanted to consider you for the position, but I feared his opinion might not be totally unbiased."

"And you thought a lawyer who's willing to take a man to bed the night she meets him is worth talking to? That doesn't say much for your firm."

Paul spoke up for the first time in a while, "I swear I didn't know you were a lawyer when I started chatting you up. I didn't know until you told me."

Mr. Hume continued after the interruption, "Like I was saying, My firm, like yours, is primarily a criminal defense firm. Where we are different is that our clients tend to be in higher tax brackets. We have a client who is having some local trouble. He is being accused of some serious crimes here in the county. He has hired us and while we have a strong team to represent him, they are simply not local to here. We need someone local to work directly with him, probably having face to face meetings nearly everyday. Someone to take care of his day to day attitude and keep him from getting into even more trouble. He is mostly harmless, but can be gruff and his own worst enemy."