Not Quite a White Night

This flows directly from Part 01.

Parts 1, 2 and 3 are a series of sequential chapters each covering roughly one day (Friday, Saturday and Sunday). Parts 4 and beyond will encompass several days each.

This is a series, sex may develop slowly. A different piece of sex/BDSM equipment/furniture/machinery is used in each of the first three parts.

Part 1 - Chapter 1 details who died when these two met.

Part 2: Chapter 8 has more sex. Chapter 10 has anal sex on the second equipment: X-Cross.

Part 3: Chapter 13 has the third equipment. Chapters 14, 16 and 17 have sex.

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Chapter 7. Friday Night Law

Besides being in the family business of a criminal gang banger and the regional prince for my Grandfather the drug lord, my late night job is as a lawyer.

(You are probably asking yourself which is a lower form of scum. It is okay, I am not offended. I ask myself the same question as I look at the sub-creatures who surround my life.)

I am not your usual lawyer, I do not take depositions, talk to lying clients, or put on a show in court. I went from Law School to clerking (two judges) and then directly to this high-priced law firm you never heard of. It is a law firm that mostly writes opinions for other lawyers, judges, corporations and insurance companies. Very expensive bulletproof opinions that will stand every appeal because we are very smart people who write them that way, without the distractions of dealing with clients and the court system. We can and do argue both sides of each issue without bias, then we explain who will win. Consider, for example, many large lawsuits are about damages, and insurance companies as well as their clients need an expert opinion to keep their biased internal risk management departments on track.

A serious advantage of this job is that, since we don't deal with people, we can work on our own schedules. I can work, say, all night Friday - which is what I was going to do now.

A disadvantage of the job is that, because our work is so confidential, it must be done at our office where the work computers are all on a private air-gapped internal network. We also have resource computers that are on the web, but they are pretty much read-only so nothing original goes on them.

You might wonder why I have two jobs. Call it an excess of greed coupled with opportunity. The drug business profits depend on what volume for what drugs, and sometimes we were at the low end of both scales. I find I am allergic to the low ends. Also, you deal with folks who are likely to turn violent at any time. Honestly, I would be out of that business entirely, except my Grandfather needs his prince.

The law firm does pay well, and there was no seasonal effect plus there are VERY nice fringe benefits. But I actually viewed it as a long-con. I intended to make partner, worm my way into operations, and then discover more than $50 million in partner's equity had precipitously and inexplicably disappeared. I intend to retire rich and young.

Lawyers fight all the time among themselves about money, but once they have spent all they have time to spend (time is the limitation) they let the rest sit in the firm to earn more. (It is called "Return on Equity Invested" and rates are very attractive, plus it looks good to the other partners.) My current thoughts regarding blame for the coming massive loss are Bitcoins or "those damn Israeli/Russian/Chinese/Korean hackers," but I figured I had 5 to 10 years to work it out. Maybe less if Abril (my date for Saturday night) stayed on top of her game.

The good news is that if I pull this off the lawyers will never report it, since even a rumor of a loss would kill a firm. Not to mention what any associated data loss would do. Even if it did get reported (an excellent extortion angle) during the firm's death throes and beyond they could not let law enforcement crawl through their records investigating. Every lawyer needs trust from their clients and the judge won't let a lawyer opt out of attorney-client privilege just because some Bitcoins that were never really there suddenly went missing.

As I drove my Marauder to the office I realized I was feeling strange and uniquely unfulfilled after my time with Gracie. It was a feeling I had not known before, and it took some time to work it out. I had used girls in bags before, for business and pleasure, but I never cared a bit about any of them. Gracie was different. It was not just her body, which was incomparable, that had be thinking strange unfamiliar thoughts. It was her personality, her pluck, confidence and sense of fun in a situation that was hard to imagine. I almost felt something for her. That was new to me.

As I thought more about Gracie I realized that my primary issue was 1) that I had not kissed her, 2) that I really wanted to kiss her, plus 3) I am really not very good at not getting what I want. (Is this childish? Guilty as charged.)

What was up with that? I mean, she was completely under my control, I had taken her in bondage on a sincere torture rack for goodness sake. But I could not do the one thing that I realized I wanted to do!

I would have to work on that.

As usual, I made two stops (Batcave then lawyer house) and switched cars (Crown Vic to the Batcave, C-1500 to Casa Grey. Then I took the Marauder to work. I never go from either home to the Fort, and I try to always switch vehicles; this is LA and your wheels always get noticed.) I transformed from Paulo Zero, 49 ganger and drug importer into Erik Grey, esq. of Huttle, Shunt, Barnes and Associates. Since it was a Friday night (well, really early Saturday morning) I wanted to get at least 6 hours in my office.

On the way to the Casa I made a quick stop at an all-night hardware store where I got the things I needed if I was going to let Gracie go Tuesday. Things could still go the other way, but I wanted the option ready. I had never let somebody go before so I needed some things.

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Chapter 8. Office Girls

As I worked in my office drafting a long and very boring memo on a multi-state water rights case, the intense memories of the evenings activities with Gracie were distracting my focus. Plus I was still unfulfilled. So after an hour of torturous self-control I gave in to my unmet needs and called an Office Support Girl into my office for "service with her smile."

It is a fact that guys spend far too much time chasing pussy. In the City of Angels that includes to many married men. Pussy is worse than drugs, it is expensive, time-consuming, and dangerous, especially for lawyers. (Time is money and billable hours rule our life, so time spent chasing pussy - by guys who think they are too smart so they take shortcuts and make mistakes - costs way too much.) Stupid mistakes can wipe out a career-driven A-type who the firm has invested a fortune in. Suddenly these guys always discover they have a need to fill but they lack the disposition (usually openness and a sense of priority are the things women need) to fill it. Divorce happens and it is bad. Always bad. Lawyers become beach bums because starting over is too much to face without the smiling ego-support system waiting at home each night. The firm's investment evaporates so I can't steal it. Do you see how this is bad for me?

Our firm handles the problem in-house, with full time professionals on staff 24-7. We don't use therapists, they take too much time and never work on lying, slimy lawyers anyways. For a quick cure we use professional girls who make quick visits to our offices where they get naked to relieve and dissipate that dangerous "need pussy" pressure. These angels are dual-purpose, they replace both pussy-chasing and the traditional coffee break/water cooler/football pool/gossip session that eats into workplace productivity.

Look, Google lets employees their play pool, slide on giant slides like kids, be like fools in a ball pit and eat professionally prepared meals any time night or day; it is all a fringe benefit. We consider our fringe benefits more desirable and much cheaper in the long run. Plus it builds loyalty to the firm at the "cock" level where every man with balls really lives.

Of course, this type of thing only works at a certain type of firm, one suffering an acute lack of political correctness. Lawyers are good for that.

My call for help was answered by Li, my favorite, who came to my office wearing just a kimono and slippers that double as knee pads. As soon as the door was closed she lost the kimono and gave me her smile to fuck with pleasure as usual. Except I was not looking for my usual.

Four-foot-nine oriental Li presents as a little chubby with small tits, these would normally exclude her from our employ. But she is a sweet and very professional woman with superior skills that make for hard-core fans. Even the "chubby-haters" around the office, who get irrationally bitchy on the subject of body-weight index for wives and daughters, find good things to say about her smile-work. She usually does the late shift to keep her out of the sight of the occasional client who visits our offices; this schedule also allows her to care for her infirm mother. Also, it is a fact, and no surprise, that many of our lawyers find a way to work at night at least once a week, and they keep her busy. She keeps them happy and productive. This synergy has not escaped management notice, and is reflected in Li's generous paycheck.

Tonight, at my hand signal, she hesitated and did not drop to her knees. She touched herself in anticipation. Yum.

I asked about her "dance card" so far. That question told her I was looking for something unusual.

She smiled, surprises from me were always welcome. She said I was her first call after her 2-day 'weekend' break.

"Erik-san, this poor Li is good to go and would be extremely delighted for anything you want... ANYTHING at all."

Our professional girls are like most working girls - meaning they willing accept an erect cock in all 3 portals, but kissing lips above or below is strictly against the rules. In my office, Li ignored the rules, to the point where, on occasion, she either gave or got anilingus when I was in the mood. I must say, she had the greatest giggle, well, after Gracie, maybe the second greatest giggle, when I tickled her cute little butthole with my tongue. We also met about once a month outside of work for dates, social activities, and the most novel bedroom exercises, all of which was strictly forbidden by the firm.

Tonight I took her in my arms, slipped fingers easily into her lightly pre-lubed front and back holes, then drew her lips close. She got the message gave herself to me in a deeply passionate hot kiss. She was a dream, hot and wet and willing to penetrate and be penetrated, her tongue danced with mine like two writhing, mating serpents. I knew it wasn't love, it was mostly an act, but as an act it was Oscar, Emmy and Tony all rolled into one, with a dash or two of sincerity thrown in. The hot kiss lasted about 5 minutes and felt like just what I needed after not kissing Gracie. The big plus was that Li did not need to talk about it after. We both had other plans for her sweet mouth.

Li enjoyed what I did, if the kiss was a little too physical my very practiced finger in her pussy gave her plenty to work out on so she had her own shy little gasp of climax before we broke the kiss. She was not faking, I had my tongue in her mouth and my fingers in both holes so I knew the truth of it. She really liked my surprises.

(Never faking it was part of our deal. We had each "failed to ignite" a time or two, but true professional intimacy means we understood. We let it go and we never spoke of it.)

Li knew that the hot kiss was just for starters; my cock was erect and when I gave her the nod she dropped to fasten her mouth to it. She really knew her stuff, I didn't have to do anything but enjoy the trip. Time allowed for a "coffee break" was 12 to 15 minutes. Actual elapsed time from office entry to swallowed my load, including time for the extended starter kiss, was exactly 11 minutes, leaving 4 minutes for our usual clean-up and wind-down conversation. It was a perfect "coffee break" that was much better than even the best coffee or gossip at the water cooler.

In line with how this date started, I gave her another scorching kiss after she swallowed most of what I gave her, I was not shy about the taste and Li liked the appreciation of a post-ejaculation kiss. Then, as is our custom, we shared some very expensive scotch during the few minutes of 'friendly conversation with body contact' after my smile but before she resumed her kimono. We talked about the other lawyers and what was going on, the service girls knew everything first and Li collected it for me. Using my fingers I kept her happy in a "oh so pleased" Oriental way, even if she did not climax again she felt good while making her report. (On occasion she appreciated complete pleasure that way from me.) She was probably sincere, but with orientals one never knows unless you have a three-point contact. In any event she acted grateful. It goes without saying that I am Li's favorite, and she is mine.

Then it was back to the salt mines. I use that reference because legal work is so damn dry sometimes, and this was the worst. California's, Nevada's and Arizona's civil laws dealing with water rights during a drought are especially mind numbing - it was like digging sand at the beach using a slotted spoon. I was almost tempted to order a hit on the client, except the issue would just continue in another case that would find me.

My second call for service, out of pure need based on the mental torture of what I was doing, was four hours later. It was answered by "Trix," a well endowed tall Texas blonde who was new to the rotation. She doffed her one-piece blouse/vest top and her ridiculous hat but not her skirt; either she did not know the drill or she was resistant for some reason. I let that slide and told her what I wanted: a full 15.

Trix was nice to look at plus she had first-class BJ technique, with cyclone suction and a super tongue - fast and very flexible. She took me all the way in for some deep throat action, except I wasn't in the mood so she backed off and showed off her other skills. But her timing sucked. At swallow it was 3 minutes short. Even worse, when it was done she acted like she thought I wanted to talk to her, to get her well regarded opinion about the warm weather we were having!

Some things I have a low tolerance for; I sipped scotch alone for the rest of my 15 minutes after kicking her out topless. (It was around 4 or 5 AM.) She was probably on probation. I sent a harsh email to the head trainer and her supervisor about her deficiencies in protocol. I made it clear that she was good at the mechanics of her job and from my view the fault was not with Trix. They had failed, not her! Her dress code, her timing and her feeling entitled to talk all needed work before I could see her again.

The trainer would reply back on Monday and waste more of my time, but these things had to be done properly or chaos would overwhelm the well-ordered workplace and there would be fewer profits to steal when the time was ripe. I made that a "note to self" for later.

At the end of six hours in the office the sun was visible from my window so I recorded ten billable hours on the books and called it a day. (Lawyer's math; we are lawyers, so truth is always one of the options. The firm billed based on what I claimed instead of what that lying bastard of a clock showed, so upper management appreciated my candor.) I could get back to my honest life as a street gang jefe. I drove to my Casa where I slept for a solid four hours. Then I was off to the Batcave where I changed clothes and cars.

Besides my IQ and my family connections, my sleep requirements are probably one of the top factors in my success. My sleep is something I have been asked about, and even tested in a lab. What do Edison, Churchill, and Branson that Virgin guy all have in common? Less sleep! They each needed 4 or fewer hours a night. It is the way they were built at a genetic level. When the tribes left Africa there were some folks among them who were smart as Einstein, some who were tall, some who processed food more efficiently, and some who needed less sleep so they kept watch through the night. Tribes lacking any of those probably did not survive. Science has found there are genetic factors common to folks who need less sleep, other factors for those who need more. Thanks to my mother and her ancestors I was deep in the 'less sleep' group - I never needed more than 4 hours and a could actually get by on 2 hours a night for a week without problems.

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Chapter 9. Saturday Morning and Afternoon

Refreshed, I drove the old S-10 pickup from the Batcave to the Fort for more fun and games with my guest. Along the way I picked up breakfast for four - I wanted to give Gracie plenty of choices. I benefitted from keeping her strength up.

When I got to Fort Zero I secured the inner parts of the house, took a quick shower, then made a call to Jax.

Our friends had picked up Cosmo's body and were sending it to TJ for burial with honors. The ears of his dead enemies had gone with him - those Aztex guys are seriously strange about their ritual shit. They gave him credit for all 6 ears!

"Betty," one of the Capricez girls (a female gang) Cosmo and I shared a few days ago, had heard about his death through the damn grapevine already and was going along, at her request. Not that it mattered, coffins going to Mexico by cabin cruiser (Cosmo's last ride was in style) do not get much attention from Mexican customs.

Their forensics guy said that Cosmo died from a lucky cut when his blade was diverted, it was always a danger when using weapons in both hands. The guy said Cosmo probably did not feel it happen. The needle-neck pliers in his ear matched the Kings other tools, the assumption was that blow came when he staggered from blood loss and was as good as dead.

It always adds an extra bit of zing to let the Aztex troops think their buddy was killed while he was helpless.

I got credit for delivering the final blow to the guy that killed Cosmo. If I wanted, I was welcome to stop by their clubhouse alone sometime to pick up a Crystal Aztex "Certificate Of Appreciation, 3rd degree." It was nice to be appreciated, but some of their folks might recall past meetings that did not end well for them, so I would forgo the honor.

Jax had worked out the timing. To make sure the story hit the Sunday papers, the press would be called at six Saturday evening. That was two hours before our informant planned to phone LAPD. We support the first amendment and like to give the press photogs plenty of time to take really gruesome pictures they could not publish in the papers but could sell on the web for personal gain. The press always listens to police scanners, I have to wonder why the police don't listen to the press radios. (Okay, I know the answer, but it was dumb.)

Jax and I agreed it was unfortunate that the press might trample some evidence, hiding the identity of anyone else who was there, although the 6 missing ears were kind of a dead giveaway. The press might even leave some non-evidence of their own, then ask, "how could the police give those poor boys justice without the truth?" Also, more cops would be needed to secure the scene, drawing down patrols in other areas while pissing off reporters. Jax confirmed Aztexs and 49 would both use the unscheduled police shortages created. The location was being watched until them. There was no sign of anything unusual from the Black Kings so the operation was likely something the trio of brainiacs just decided to do on the spur of the moment, simply an opportunity that arose because Gracie placed herself in their hands. It sucks to be them, because payback was coming whether they deserved it or not.