"Your two o'clock is here, Mr. Macken."
Ahh, his interesting two o'clock appointment. He had been looking forward to it all day. He knew she was female. He knew she had given a false name – since nothing showed up on the quick background check he had done on her. He knew she was willing to pay a thousand dollars for the opportunity to talk to him for an hour. He was a lawyer - and a damned expensive one. Was she a federal agent? He was dirty as hell, as were most of his clients. Perhaps a competitor for one of his clients. That could prove unhealthy. But he was as ready as could be. Not a scrap of paper was on his shiny rosewood desk. His laptop was tucked away in its case beneath his desk. And a handgun was within easy reach in his pocket.
"Send her in, Mrs. Vaughn."
He tilted his head slightly when she entered. She was definitely not what he expected. She didn't look any older than twenty, dressed in a cheap classic black skirt that swished around sleek young thighs and a loose ivory blouse. Spiky black fuck-me heels. Small and dainty, with thick honey colored hair shot through with deep red sparks. Right now that hair was tamed into a twisted knot, but James Macken suspected once released it would overwhelm her small heart-shaped face. And a very pretty face it was, too. Elfin in quality, with pale creamy skin, a lush mouth, two big brown eyes just a tad too large for her face that reminded him of something or someone he could not quite place. Her tits were small too, barely a handful from the looks of things. But when she half turned to close the door Jim decided her ass more than made up for it. She had a tight and high round ass – a delicious bubble butt that gave her a delightful little wiggle when she walked.
"Please, have a seat, Ms. Bey" He was studiously polite, offering her coffee or tea which she just as politely declined. He then waited silently while her small fingers twisted nervously together and she nibbled at her plump bottom lip. He stared at that mouth and fantasized sliding his cock between those delectable lips. Was she a good cocksucker? She looked like she would be. He could damn sure make her one if she wasn't. His thoughts were disturbed when she opened the cheap black clutch she carried, his hand moving halfway to the gun in his pocket. But she just pulled out a couple papers, unfolding them and smoothing them out nervously in her lap. She may look like a nervous teenager about to give her first speech in speech class, but when she spoke her voice was crisp and to the point.
"Mr. Macken, I gave your secretary a false last name. My real name is Hope Amelia Doerr. My mother's name is Frances Arielle Doerr." She looked straight at him, her thin shoulders back, and her chin up. She waited expectantly, and after a moment he shrugged.
"Those are nice names, Ms.... Doerr."
His response seemed to throw her off her game, and she looked down at the paperwork in her hands uncertainly. He began to grow irritated.
"Ms. Doerr, I agreed to meet with you because you agreed to pay an amount I did not expect you too. I hope you are not entirely stupid, and realize the services I offer are mostly to very large, powerful clients who can afford me. I suspect you, Ms. Doerr, cannot afford me. I am quite frankly surprised you came up with the money to afford this one hour consultation. May I suggest you get right to the point? Because in..." He made a show of checking his $7,000 Rolex. "In 53 minutes I am going to have to ask you to leave."
She bit her bottom lip again, and his cock surged. Perhaps he wouldn't ask her to leave. Perhaps he would have her right on his desk. It had been nearly a whole week since he had fucked a woman – he was overdue satisfaction.
"My mother was a pastor's daughter, and while I was growing up we lived at home with her parents. I never knew my father. Once when I was nine years old I asked who my father was and she told me never to speak of him again. But when I turned eighteen last month, she told me my father's name."
He interrupted her with a deliberate yawn.
"I do not track down long lost fathers, Ms. Doerr."
"I'm not asking you too. I already did that."
That caught his attention, and he looked sharply at her.
"If you intend to accuse one of my clients of being your father, I hope you have supportive proof, Ms. Doerr."
"That's a very odd word to use for trying to tell someone they are my father, Mr. Macken. 'Accuse' is not the term I would use." Her face was pale and tense, but he didn't give a shit. His job was to protect his clients, even from troublesome bastards hunting money.
"Just name the man and give me the proof, Ms. Doerr. Let's get this over with."
Her plump fuckable lips thinned in displeasure, resentment flaring in her eyes. She slapped the papers down on his desk loudly. He never flinched, just grinned at her...until she spoke the name of the father.
"James Macken."
He froze, staring at her. Christ. HIM? She was accusing HIM of being her father?
"That's ridiculous. I am not your father." He grabbed the papers, glancing briefly at them as he continued. "You can march your happy ass right out of he...." His voice faded as he studied the papers. A fucking birth certificate with his name on it.
Fuck.
The other paper, a picture of him as a younger man with a woman that seemed vaguely familiar. He thought he remembered the girl, a naïve little cunt who had willingly given him her virginity. Then after a week she had second thoughts, so he had simply held her prisoner in his bedroom for two days and raped the shit out of her, then left town. She had been fortunate. It wasn't long after her he had learned various ways to dispose of unhappy fucktoys. He pursed his lips, staring down at the picture unhappily.
"I'm not giving you a goddamn dime, Ms. Doerr." He stared at her coldly. "Just because I fucked your mother and she shit you out of her cunt doesn't mean I am going to open my wallet for you."
The girl turned white, and he saw tears puddle in her eyes. It made her look downright fuckable. He enjoyed fucking women so much more when they were crying.
"I don't want your money, Mr. Macken." Her voice trembled, and his cock twitched. Daughter or not, she was a hot little piece of ass. And she had nerve. He liked that. If he had a daughter, at least she wasn't a spineless bit of fluff.
"Ms. Doerr, in case you didn't already notice I am not a nice man. Trust me, you do not want me as your long lost father. I suggest you go back home to mommy and marry a nice normal man and have nice normal babies. Forget all about me, or you will regret it for the rest of your life."
"I know you're not a nice man, Mr. Macken. That is why I am here."
He blinked, then deliberately wadded up the papers into a ball, tossing them over the desk to her. He almost grinned when she deftly caught them. Despite the tears she was a proud little thing, her pert little chin lifted up.
"Explain yourself."
"I have lived my whole life as a lie, Mr. Macken. I tried so hard to be the good girl I was supposed to be, but it was a constant struggle. My whole life I felt like I didn't belong. Out of place. Everyone I know lived a good, holy life. They loved Jesus, and lived for heaven. But I...I was attracted to sin from a very young age. Most children in my church get saved by age 5. I never confessed Christ, Mr. Macken. I never wanted to be saved. I wanted more from THIS life, even if I didn't know what more was. And then last month on my 18th birthday my mother told me about you. She told me that you were an evil man who protected other evil men who sold drugs and guns and girls. She told me you raped her. Is that true, Mr. Macken?"
