L'Affaire C. 12

"Anyway, I know I'm not your type. And that's gross to even think about." She shoved a bite of French toast into her mouth. "So the girl, what she like?"

"It's just- we're not—I mean it's not serious, or exclusive. She's not really looking for something serious. She's recently divorced."

"A divorcee. How'd you meet her?"

"You come into the office a bit, you know her I bet—she worked with Jack—Carly Harmon."

"She's white." She had blurted it out before she could stop herself. Not a question, a statement. Hey Liam, that girl you're dating is white. You didn't know? Liam didn't say anything, just stared at her. This time he was the one to look incredulous.

Nicki felt herself turn crimson, "That came out wrong. It's just, you know, all your girlfriends have been—not white." Liam shook his head and turned his attention to his food. She was right. All of his past girlfriends were not white. "She's really pretty," she said tentatively. Understatement, Liam thought. Nicki looked uncomfortable, so he wasn't surprised when she changed the subject. "So what attorney am I supposed to be seeing today?"

"You have an appointment with, and are seeing, the attorney. I am driving you to the building and walking you into the office."

"If you found me a smarmy defense attorney I am not going."

"He's talented, I respect him, you will, too, so give him a chance."

"Who?"

"You'll see when we get there."

"Who?"

"Nicki..."

"Liam.

They stared at each other before, sensing that if he didn't volunteer the name, he would have to drag her back to the SUV, he spoke. "Karsa Kovac."

"He gets rapists off!" She hadn't intended to raise her voice, but the outburst attracted the attention of everyone within a three table radius of them. Liam stared her down, and Nicki found herself slinking back into the booth. "I wrote about his swarthy lowlife tactics and his obvious abuse of the system when during the Peter Janis trial. You know Peter Janis. The Peter Janis who raped the nineteen year university student from Spokane. She was here in Seattle on a volleyball scholarship. He beat her so badly he broke both of her wrists."

"The jury found that rapist innocent."

"That rapist was a rapist. But it doesn't matter, he'll never agree to take me as a client, he'll kick me out the minute I show my face up there."

"He's already agreed to defend you."

"Yeah, so he can get me put in jail and continue to be skeezy without the press on his ass."

"'Smarmy', 'skeezy'—I'm surprised you haven't used 'swarthy' yet."

"I could have."

Liam dropped his fork, and it clanged against his plate. She jumped a bit at the unexpected noise. "You said it yourself, Nicki, the police are under a spotlight on this one. If they can't get a perp on a simple 2nd degree assault charge they'll look incompetent. They at best have an alcoholic with a criminal record as their sole witness, and they moved forward anyway."

"Why would Kovac take me on as a client after what I got printed?"

"Ultimately, I think that's why he agreed to take you on."

Nicki snorted derisively, "What? To prove what a good guy he is?"

"Yes. That, and as a personal favor to me."

Nicki, hearing this, relented. Why she relented, she couldn't have said. She wanted to ask more about Liam's connection to him, but it was clear by the way Liam stated the last admission that it was not up for discussion.

Liam escorted Nicki into the office, where Karsa greeted them cordially, and left them to sort out the details. He was exhausted when he returned to the office. Nicki could be exhausting on a normal day, but he hadn't slept last night, and as a result he found himself almost without the will to live by the time he was rid of her. And, having missed most of the morning, he had a full day ahead of him.

He was a new partner. He had a budding relationship he didn't have time for, with a woman who invaded him completely. He wanted every part of her, and having just gone through a divorce, he knew she wanted only one part of him. Was he taking advantage of her situation by sleeping with her? He couldn't give her more, couldn't let himself feel. The moment he slid inside her he dissolved, became something else, someone else. He became insatiable. He couldn't afford to feel that again.

Or was she taking advantage of him, for sex without emotional attachments. She had clearly intended for their connection to be purely sexual. He had gotten too close, and she had punished him by ignoring his calls, coming back on her terms. Could he even offer her that, when the strength of his response to her overwhelmed him so completely?

*

Nicki decided early on in their meeting that Karsa Kovac had a switch. He had a switch which allowed him to turn something off before press conferences, before walking into courtrooms. He had a raw sexuality he was able to slip out of and hide away.

Or perhaps it was something he slipped into.

He wore a suit today, but his tie was off, the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned. She could see a touch of chest hair under his color, black like the hair on his head. He had laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, though she'd never seen him laugh, and she suddenly found herself wanting to run her fingers over his face, to feel the way time had touched him. She hadn't really ever noticed before, the way his hair had started to gray. He appeared young, but distinguished, in the courtroom. She realized now he was older than she'd first thought.

His manner was easy, relaxed and confident. And wolfish. She was surprised to find he smiled easily (though not frequently, considering the nature of their discussion). And he looked at her in a way that made her feel naked, exposed, as if when he looked at her it was her heart and her thoughts that were visible, as if he'd figured her out. Even worse, his gaze on her was also like a touch, like a soft caress.

She had >felt his gaze on her legs and breasts when he had met her in the waiting room. She tingled under his gaze, wanted more. Her nipples reacted, tightened and hardened. Warmth radiated out from her heated center. She was aroused beyond what was reasonable. She had clearly gone too long without an orgasm.

So it was disappointing when, after the initial greeting, after taking in her appearance, his eyes stayed on her face. Nothing could redirect his attention. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, sighed in a way that moved her chest and her breasts with it; still, his eyes never left her face after that moment in the waiting room.

"What's funny, Ms. Moreau--"

"Nicki." She was embarrassed by the way that her voice sounded, the breathiness that danced with the word when she invited him, again, to call her by her first name.

"Nicki," he said, and there was something in his eyes that made her body respond, and though she planned to shower the moment she got home, she knew that if she didn't plan on changing all of her clothes at the very least she'd have had to change her panties.

It was embarrassing, that her body was such a traitor to her sensibilities. He said all the right words, they had debated it all. He had accused her of being naive, of blustering. He had accused her of not believing innocent until proven guilty, in not believing in the jury system. He had accused her of allowing emotion to cloud her judgment. Where would this country be if the D.A. did not have to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that defendants were guilty?, he had asked. She'd heard it all before. All the whores said it. He would never convince her that the real truth of it was that Peter Janis had money.

They had argued until, so flustered, she had simply given up. Because aside from accusing him of lying, of feigning sincerity, she had no argument. He never once argued that Peter Janis was innocent, which infuriated her the most.

"What's funny, Nicki, is that our friend Liam was not the only person to call me about you. I got another call, from someone at the police department. Someone who asked me to take an interest in your case. Isn't that fascinating? The way you can be so abrasive, nasty even, and yet bring out the protective nature in more than one man?" The way he said it made her think he wasn't just talking about Liam and the detective, but she was unable to focus on that, and assumed he hinted at it to throw her off guard, which he seemed to adore doing. No, she couldn't concentrate on that. She was too busy trying to stop thinking about what his hands would feel like on her body. Or what her hands would feel like, when she made it home and could relieve the pressure steadily building within her.

Kovac switched gears. "I know you aren't a silly girl. I know I don't need to tell you not to dress in court the way you're dressed today," He said. "But I will ask you to wear something less..." he paused, rethinking the direction of his comment, "more modest to our meetings outside of court."

"Excuse me?" she demanded, indignant. Fucking chauvinist telling her how to fucking dress.

"It's distracting."

"You have some nerve thinking—"

He stopped her with a look so intense she thought if it lasted just a bit longer, she might climax right there in front of him. She was going to say that he had some nerve thinking he could tell her how to dress. His accent, previously a very slight Hungarian he had obviously worked to Americanize, was thicker when he said, "Thinking what, Nicki? Thinking that I shouldn't know that your panties are purple today?"

So maybe he had taken his eyes off of her face.

He let the moment pass, as if it had not been so sexually charged as to set the room on fire. "In the meantime, keep the teacher around. People like teachers, it's good for your image."

Nicki bristled at the suggestion. It was calculated and dirty; exactly what she expected from him. "We broke up."

Kovac narrowed his eyes, "Well, that was stupid."

"It wasn't my decision."

And this time she saw his eyes wander the length of her body. Her heart raced, thudding in her chest as his gaze slowly moved back up to her face, not seeming to miss an inch. It was brief, really. The time his eyes were away from her face was only a matter of seconds. But it was an eternity. They had sex in that moment. They had sex in his office, on his desk, on her bed. They had fights and they made up and they bought houses and cars and had more sex and babies and vacations to the Caribbean, where they had sex on sandy beaches. They had Christmases and dinners out and bland talks about finances and their retirement fund.

It was an eternity and he was wrong.

She was a silly girl.

*

Nicki closed the door behind her, did her best to shut the world out. Her dog came bounding over, and reluctantly, she leashed him and took him outside on a quick walk around the block. A dog walker stopped by every day, but still he expected this from her. It was such a simple request, such a small thing compared to what others demanded of her, that she could never refuse. Once in from the walk she made her way to her bedroom and immediately removed her clothes, dropping first her coat, then her skirt and shirt onto the floor in her walk to the bathroom, kicking off her shoes just before she stepped onto the cool tile of the bathroom.

She left the light off, but daylight made sure she could still see her reflection in the mirror. Wavy/curly hair did not do well without daily maintenance, and she looked like she'd been attacked by birds. Even concentrating on the mess of her hair, she was aware of her lace panties and bra, purple against her skin. Heat rushed through her, remembering Karsa Kovac's words, and her reaction to his gaze. She knew it had nothing to do with him; that she just needed to get off; but it was still infuriating that her body couldn't tell the difference from innocuous attractive men and evil attractive men. Was evil too harsh? Wicked. She decided he was wicked.

She imagined his eyes on her when she took off the bra, letting her breasts loose, finding her nipples erect and protruding. Nicki cupped her breasts in her hands and squeezed, letting her head fall back. Having been at a low level of arousal the entire way home, her body came back to life under her hands. She pushed her panties down and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm before she stepped in and turned the dial until it was almost too hot to stand. She delighted in the spray's assault on her breasts and abdomen as she shampooed, and once she'd put conditioner in her hair she detached the shower nozzle and brought it between her legs. It was so hot, punishingly hot, but she didn't want to turn it down. And she needed it so bad but she was so tired. Giving in, Nicki sat on the floor of the shower, let her legs fall open and held the nozzle between her legs as she massaged and squeezed and pinched at her breasts with her free hand, trying to pretend they were Matt's hands, calloused from practicing football with the high school team.

But it didn't work; she couldn't maintain it. Her mind, or her body?, rejected this planted thought and by the time she realized it was Kovac's hands on her, she was whimpering and bucking her hips. She slid her hand, his hand, down between her legs and pushed her lips open, exposing her clitoris to the hot spray. Still not able to come, she adjusted the nozzle to the pulse feature and stretched the lips between her fingers, pulling the skin taunt.

She couldn't help herself, she allowed it to happen. She allowed it to be Kovac's hand holding the shower head and Kovac's hand manipulating her pussy. It was Kovac, and not the shower wall, that she leaned against. She rolled her head back, slipped further into the fantasy as steam rose around her, and only then did she come. She came violently, her whole body twitching as her cries echoed off the shower walls. Vaguely, she heard the dog barking at the bathroom door. She couldn't stop coming. Kovac moved the nozzle closer, the pulse of the water fierce and hot and punishing, extending her orgasm until her cries were whimpers and her clit was too sensitive to be manipulated anymore.

Slowly, Nicki became aware of the shower. She had dropped the nozzle on the shower floor, had pulled her legs closed as her pussy's convulsions slowed to pulses. She was breathing heavily, panting really, and still had conditioner in her hair.

When she could, she stood up and rinsed her hair. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall, toweling off before grabbing a robe and stumbling to her bedroom on weak and shaking legs. Nicki collapsed onto her bed and didn't wake up again until her doorbell rang, pulling her out of her slumber, and she turned her head toward the nightstand and the time display on her alarm clock. She had slept the whole afternoon.

Who would be knocking at 10 PM?

***

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