I walk down the hall into my trial partner's office. Her intern is sitting at her desk. There are case files open in front of her.
"Hey Jenel," I say, smiling.
"Hi Greg," Jenel says, looking up at me in the doorway.
"Whatcha up to?" I ask, crossing through the door and approaching the desk.
"Oh, just prepping cases for Shelly. Everything for this month is done, so I'm just working on the trials she has up in December."
"Oh, real fun stuff," I say, sarcastically.
Jenel giggles. "Basically."
"So, how are classes going?" I ask, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of Shelly's desk. The room is a typical office—case files are everywhere, there's a bookshelf filled with the U.S. Code and heavy volumes about The Law. Shelly's diplomas and bar admission certificates adorn the walls.
"Not bad. Thanks for your help with the paper in my Civil Liberties class, the professor sent back my first draft with a little note saying there was no need to revise it. Everyone was supposed to write a draft and then revise it once, but now, thanks to you, I guess I don't have to!"
"Hey, that's great!"
"Well, it's all thanks to you. Our little secret, right?" Jenel looks at me, conspiratorially. She's so delicate: short and very petite, a petiteness only enhanced by how her hair pulls back tight from her head into a pony tail. A fitted pale red turtleneck sweater clings to her body. Two pearl stud earrings contrast dynamically with her mocha coloring.
"Our little secret," I agree.
"My other class is going well. No papers for you to write for me in there," Jenel jokes.
"You know I would."
"I know you would. You're very sweet to me."
"Well, I think you're one of Shelly's favorite interns ever. She gives you a lot of trust for a college senior."
"I like working for Shelly, she's been very nice to me. But, I think you've both been very nice to me."
I chuckle. "I hope in different ways."
She got my point. "Definitely. Very different."
"Well, I'm glad Shelly's on vacation this week," I say.
"Me, too," Jenel agrees. "And not just cause I get to wear jeans everyday."
I look under the desk—she was wearing jeans. Jeans that hugged her skinny legs, no socks, and a pair of black pumps.
"Yeah," I say, getting up out of my chair and crossing back to the door. "Shelly being out makes things very convenient." I closed the door and locked it. When I turn back around, Jenel is on her feet, reaching over head, peeling off her red turtleneck.
Seeing all that dark skin come into view is an epiphany. Jenel is so beautiful, so young and fresh. All those years of private schools and of prep school girls with their long white legs had jaded me—seeing Jenel's dusky beauty was seeing woman in her most playful, most sexy form.
Jenel folds up her turtleneck in a quick motion and sets it down on her chair. "Do you like my bra?" Jenel asks, a twinkle in her eye.
"Very much," I say, the front of my suit pants giving further proof of my enjoyment.
"Thanks for buying it for me," she replies. "It makes me feel so sexy, all this satin and lace." She runs her hands down the straps, across the pink cups of the bra. "And the color—it's so pink. It's so girly, but really sexy at the same time." She laughs, self-consciously. "I put it on this weekend just to look at myself in the mirror in it. When I was getting ready this morning I just kept dancing around and looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. I really like it. It makes me feel so—I don't know—like, powerful, you know? Like I could do anything."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mmm-hmm. Like I could tell you to show me your dick and you'd do it."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. So, do it. Show me your dick."
