Disclaimers: Blah, blah, blah. Any and all sexual stuff is done by people eighteen years of age, or older. Blah, blah, THIS STORY IS FICTION. This story could fit into several categories, but since Blackrandi1958, has her invitational paying homage to the 1980 song by REO Speedwagon, Take It On The Run, this will more than likely land in Loving Wives. Be forewarned; there is a second part that just might be considered interracial, or romance.
Thanks: Without a doubt
being invited
by Blackrandi1958 is an honor I will always treasure, and I hope my wife and I don't disappoint.
Warning: This story just might detail some legal procedures that may or may not follow the laws where YOU live. Live with it.
More warnings: If any character in my story reminds you of someone you know, you are sadly mistaken.
Even more warnings: There just might be some derogatory terms used in this story to describe people of a certain sexual orientation, that I never use in my normal life. Be forewarned!
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I guess I should include some background information.
I'm Brandon Chase, a twenty-seven year old lawyer, just starting my third year as a deputy Prosecuting Attorney, in King County, Washington.
Growing up in the north central city of Brewster, Washington, roughly two hundred miles north east of Seattle, I knew early on that I wanted to put bad guys away.
Not as a cop, but a prosecutor. You see, I must have been in the third or fourth grade when my best friend, Mark Cole's father was killed in a bar fight.
It wasn't much of a fight, as three huge bikers, passing through town, stopped at one of our more lively watering holes. After a few drinks, one of them asked Mark's mom to dance, and when she refused, and Mark's dad intervened, the other two joined their pal, and beat Mr. Cole to death.
When their trial started, some high priced, big city lawyer convinced the jury, that it was just a misunderstanding, and since everyone had been drinking, they were sentenced to six months in the Okanogan County jail.
I knew then, that justice wasn't served, which started me thinking I had to do better.
Hoping my athletic ability might get me a college scholarship, I started working in the apple orchards that flourished all around the community of Brewster.
Aside from me earning money, it helped transform my six foot, fourteen year old skinny body, in the eighth grade, into a six foot two inch, two hundred and ten pound tight end prospect, as a senior that had more than a few college coaches looking at me.
I wound up with a full ride to Central Washington, in Ellensburg, that more that filled my need of an undergraduate education.
I never deluded myself thinking I'd ever play in the NFL, but my Summa Cum Laude degree in Political Science, put me in the running for several graduate scholarships, the NCAA offered.
Getting my admission letter from the U of W law school two weeks before graduation topped off my undergraduate experience.
Each summer, all through college, I worked in the many orchards around the city I'd lived in all my life.
Along with keeping me in very good physical shape, it gave me more than a few opportunities for sexual liaisons with a few of the more free spirited girls picking fruit along side me.
This, along with several short term relationships I'd had at Central, kept me more than satisfied in the sex department.
Starting law school proved to be just as difficult as I had imagined.
With the enormous amount of studying involved, I just didn't have a great deal of time for socializing.
I knew I had to keep my eye on the prize.
I did have a few short term relationships, that kept me more than satisfied. I did remember why I was in law school, and kept my nose to the grindstone.
As my final year was nearing its conclusion, with me interviewing with several mid-sized law firms, their attitude only solidified my desire to go into the prosecution of criminals, not defending them.
Yes, I was very aware of the difference in earning potential, but I still had the idealism of putting bad guys away.
Finally receiving an offer from King County, I was more than excited to start.
I was able to find a fairly inexpensive apartment to rent, that left a great deal to be desired. A very small one bedroom, barely larger than a studio. But it was mine.
It had enough room to study cases, when I didn't want to stay at my courthouse office.
I knew I needed to concentrate on learning all I could, instead of partying too much, so I made do.
Yes, I had the occasional date, and yes, a few ended up in bed. Either mine, or the lady I was with.
I did have several lunch dates with a young lady who worked at a coffee shop just across the street from the courthouse.
This coffee shop caught my attention, because it wasn't Starbucks. I never liked Starbucks coffee due to its burnt taste.
This girl that caught my eye, Kelly Ballard, looked to be in my age group, maybe 5'2 or 5'3", on the solid size, and appearing to never wear a bra.
She always greated me with a smile, and it seemed as if the top button on her blouse was undone, each time I ordered.
Each time I ordered, without looking obvious, I could see a very nice jiggle, which led me to believe she had a child, or two.
After nearly two months, I finally asked her for a real date. We quickly agreed on the end of the current week.
On Friday afternoon, which just happened to be a light day, I mentioned to a couple of my co-workers that I had a date, as they were constantly trying to fix me up with one of the other prosecutors in our office.
You could have heard a pin drop when I told them all that I was going out with Kelly Ballard.
This caused me to wonder why they were all so quiet.
Sitting in my cubicle, the afternoon of our first real date, my mind started to wander.
The music running around my head was the 1980 song by REO Speedwagon, "Take It On The Run."
"I heard it from a friend who,
Heard it from a friend who,
Heard it from a friend you've been messin' around."
Did I heed the thoughts running around my head?
I decided to give the young lady the benefit of the doubt.
We went out for a nice dinner at a nearby family restaurant, not overly fancy, but with a very nice reputation.
During dinner, telling each other a bit more about each other, I learned she was just six months older than me. Not a deal breaker in my book.
She did tell me that she wasn't married, and didn't have any children.
That caused me to think about the amount of sag her C cup boobs had, but I kept my mouth shut.
After dinner, we did wind up in my bed, with Kelly showing me just how limber she was, and open to virtually anything I suggested.
When I reached for a condom, she told me that they weren't needed. When I proceeded to put it in place, I whispered, "yes it is, for our first time."
Let me tell you, she was as energetic in bed as any girl I had ever been with.
Me on top. Her on top. Her on all fours. Etc, etc, etc. To quote the King Of Siam.
For the uninformed, in the classic movie, The King And I, the King of Siam uttered the phrase, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, several times.
In the middle of the night, I felt her get out of bed, and heard her rumbling around as she returned from the bathroom.
As she got back into bed, and snuggled up to my back, I was more that a little shocked when I felt what I thought was a 'cock' pressing against my behind.
"What the fuck, Kelly," I yelled, turning on my lamp.
I was staring at her with a six or seven inch strap-on, aimed at me.
"Come on, Brandon, don't you want to be a bit adventurous?"
"If you think you're sticking that thing up my ass, you are sadly mistaken" I yelled.
From the look on her face, I could see that she knew I meant business.
This gave me even more food for thought about why those guys from my office were so quiet, knowing who I was going out with.
In the morning, when I finally got out of bed, I saw that Kelly was already up, dressed, and sitting on my sofa.
"I'm really sorry for the dumbass stunt I pulled, last night, Brandon", she whispered.
"Let me take you home, and try to put that behind us." Pun intended.
When I got to work, Monday morning, I was met by several of my colleagues staring at me, waiting for a report on my date.
I saw a fairly large file on my desk, with a note that suggested I read the contents.
In my second year, there was a case that our office was assigned, that was dealt with by two more senior deputies, that concerned a child sex abuse.
It seens as if one Xavier LeCroix, was accused of sexually assaulting two or three middle school aged boys.
This LeCroix was an immigrant from Haiti, via Canada, who seemed to have a penchant for young boys.
I was still wondering why they were showing me this case.
I read the entire case file, when I finally found, at the very bottom, there was a notation that Xavier, or X-man, as he called himself, was said to have fathered a child, a few years previously.
It further stated this child, a daughter, was born with special needs, possibly due to her birth mother being beaten in the latter stages of pregnancy.
Her birth mother? Yep, none other than Kelly Ballard.
As the late Paul Harvey used to say: Now you know the rest of the story.
As I sat in my cubicle, I was wondering what my next steps should be.
I looked into court records and found out this daughter, Samantha Xaviera LeCroix was in the custody of one Reggie Cross, who was appointed Guardian Ad Litum.
This is a person appointed by the court to represent the best interests of a child, or disabled person, unable to represent themselves.
I further discovered Reggie Cross's real name was Raejean LeCroix. I automatically thought she might be this Xavier's sister, or some other relative.
I found where this Reggie, or Raejean worked, in the County building right across the street from my courthouse office.
I made an appointment, and went to see her, the very next day.
Before going to her office, I stopped in the County run daycare, in her building.
As I looked over the kids in this facility, I had no trouble picking this Samantha out of the crowd.
A smallish, mixed race girl that was either four or five years old, with this constant smile, who looked at me and just gave a little wave.
I wanted to talk with her, and her teacher led me over to her.
"My name is Brandon, can you tell me your name?"
After looking at her teacher, she grinned, again and said, "I'm 'Mantha."
"Hello, Samantha, how old are you?"
