Negotiating My Prenuptial Agreementbymsgrant67©
Although I didn't really want a prenuptial agreement, I had painted myself into a corner on that issue by using the agreement as a wedge between James and his previous fiancee. To try not to sign one myself could expose my carefully planned seduction. When I brought up the prenuptial agreement with James, now my fiance, he asked if I minded letting his attorney handle it.
I replied, "Whatever you think is best, of course," playing my role as gracious fiancee perfectly.
I decided to pop by the office of Mr. Harrison, James' attorney, unannounced. As he came to the lobby to greet me, I told him that I was downtown anyway and asked if he had a prenuptial agreement that I could sign.
Mr. Harrison laughed and asked if I knew what one was.
Despite not really believing that there was anyone in the state who didn't know what a prenup was, I slipped into my dumb blonde act and replied that I just thought that it was a form I needed to sign before I got married.
He asked me back to his office and then after we sat down proceeded to go into the most boring explanation of the prenuptial agreement. Though I was bored out of my mind, I acted interested while noticing a few things. One, Mr. Harrison appeared to be a 40-50 year old man, no wedding ring, and, judging from the pictures on his wall, very lonely. He struck me as the stereotypical accounting dude who I'm sure is great with numbers but unfortunately terrible in social settings. I'd be surprised if he had ever had a serious relationship with a woman. All of the pictures were him with other lawyers; no family pictures or girlfriend pictures were anywhere to be seen. The closest thing to any personality was that he had some old Superman comic books framed on one wall. Some looked autographed by someone; they were probably collectables. Anyway, Mr. Harrison finished by saying that he would prepare the agreement, but that he was James' lawyer, and that I would need my own, independent lawyer so that there could be no confusion down the road that I had not understood what I had signed. He offered the names of some other lawyers that he said could help me.
I politely declined and told him that I had a sorority sister who practiced law and that I wanted to throw her some business. I could tell that he liked that; knowing that I was only 26, I'm sure he knew that my friend, Samantha, would be young and inexperienced. He probably thought that this would be easy.
I set up a meeting at Samantha's law firm for a few days out and called Mr. Harrison with the information.
At home, James thought that it was wonderful that I was so happily setting all of this up. I was working hard on being the perfect fiancee. He had to believe that he was hitting the jackpot with me. My looks probably would have been enough. I'm 26, blonde, still in awesome shape and a former Florida State cheerleader. He's 42 and while fit and good-looking, it's kind of in a geeky way. He studied his ass off all through high school, college and medical school, and girls either ignored him or didn't even notice him. And this all took place in the South, where the cheerleaders are like goddesses and woefully out of reach to the guys who spend all of their time in the library. Hell, I'll bet he spent a great deal of his youth jacking off while fantasizing about girls just like me.
I wanted to be the perfect match in addition to the looks though, so I agreed with all of his suggestions for the wedding and reception. I certainly wasn't going to risk looking bitchy about anything like that. This wedding was my means to being married to this doctor; I couldn't care less about the specific ceremony details.
When I got to Samantha's office, an older partner came out to greet me, and I was informed that, as a junior associate, Samantha wasn't really qualified to handle my situation. I stuck to my guns that I wanted her because I knew her and trusted her. I even explained that her paralegal, Chelsea, had gone to school with us and that I wanted her as well. Eventually, he gave up trying to change my mind, and when I mentioned Mr. Harrison, he actually seemed relieved and took me to Samantha. (Samantha later told me that he must have figured it would be a no-win situation anyway)
I hadn't seen Samantha or Chelsea in a while, but both looked great. They said that they still worked out together, a remnant of our cheerleading days, and though we seldom discussed it, our stripping days. During a couple of summers in college, the three of us had worked as strippers throughout Florida and Georgia. We did it purely for financial reasons. Where else could 20-22 year olds make $500 to $1000 per night? We did a lot of flirting, rubbing and lap dances but nothing more. We had no desire to get trapped in that industry so we never went back to it after earning our degrees. Chelsea still occasionally modeled, but it was tasteful these days, local Macy's ads, those types of things.
"One day I guess I'll have to grow up," Chelsea confirmed, "I'm just not ready yet." Our meeting continued to a nearby happy hour and with some wine and brainstorming we formulated our plan.
Samantha had reviewed Mr. Harrison's proposal, and, not surprisingly, found that it was very one-sided. The medical practice was his; the house was his; the cars were his; the bank accounts were his; Hell, I could end up divorced and not have anything. I wasn't planning for a divorce, but I damn sure was going to protect myself in case it happened. It may take all of my feminine wiles, but I could do it.
Samantha called Mr. Harrison's office to set up a meeting to go over and sign the documents. I could tell that Mr. Harrison's secretary was getting flustered as Samantha said over and over that none of the suggested times would work. Finally, Sam explained that she was a junior associate and had a very tight schedule. It was about 30 minutes each way to their office, and, allowing an hour for the actual meeting, she just didn't have a two hour block for weeks. To avoid this going on for weeks, the secretary suggested that Mr. Harrison and James come to her office.
"Oh could you? That would be so great. How about Thursday at 10:00?"
The secretary tersely responded, "Fine," and we were all set.
This was a Friday afternoon so I had six days to get myself, and James, ready for the meeting. James had always had girlfriends who were studious and proper. Though he wasn't a virgin, he wasn't used to frequent sex, or even really anything other than standard sex. I had given him some during our six months of dating, but nothing that wasn't pretty vanilla. It was kind of cute really; he went on and on about me being his best sex ever, and I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. No lingerie, role playing, dirty talk, or anything. I don't think I had ever even been on top. I did know, however, that some of these things interested him. I had found some harmless Playboy magazines around the house, usually highlighting girls in lingerie, but he had never brought up that I should wear anything like that. He was too shy to bring it up I guess. The girls with whom he was experienced clearly weren't the slightest bit wild. Once, he had even confessed to me that he had never received a blow job. He clearly was hinting at me to give him one, but I just laughed it off as if he was joking.
I knew I needed to cut him off from sex until next Thursday morning, but in a subtle, almost accidental way, certainly not a flat-out denial. My hope was that he not even realize that he had been intentionally cut off for a week. I needed him desperate and attentive to me at the meeting, not suspicious. That weekend went surprisingly easily. I got up early to go shopping and stayed up late working each night until he had fallen asleep. I think it worked as the whole weekend slipped by without him realizing that we hadn't had sex.
On Monday I worked late, but on Tuesday he started getting a tad frisky. I allowed him to get himself a little hot and bothered by trying on some clothes in front of him. I noticed that he paid a lot of attention to my legs and pantyhose. I thought that maybe I went a little overboard, as I could tell he needed it badly that night. When he began to initiate sex that night I faked crying. I almost felt bad as he immediately went into a caring, protective stance, trying to learn what was wrong. I explained that I was upset because I had found the Playboys. I went on and on that I had been shocked. He apologized and begged for forgiveness. I, of course, agreed after he threw them all out. He even agreed to cancel his bachelor party; I hadn't even asked for that, but I'll take it as a bonus. By then, the mood was killed, and we went to sleep.
The next day I left him sexy notes and voice mails, telling him that I couldn't wait until that night to make up. That night, however, I called him every hour on the hour, profusely apologizing each time because I was stuck at my sister's apartment helping her with a crisis. In reality, I was at the Hyatt with Chelsea and Samantha preparing for the next day's meeting. Finally, at 1:00 a.m., I told him that I would have to stay the night, that I would just see him tomorrow at the law office, and that we would do something fun together following the meeting. I made him promise to take one of my sleeping pills on the dresser so that he would get good rest. (I had replaced the sleeping pills in the bottle with some Cialis tablets after carefully rubbing the logo off; he was in for a rough night)
The next morning the three of us got dressed. I wore a black corset, garter belt and some very fine, silk stockings from Victoria's Secret. This was all underneath a crisp, black suit, also from Victoria's Secret, that was much slinkier and sexier than my normal suits. It looked professional, but the skirt was awfully short, and the neckline plunged quite a ways down. Of course, that was the point. Samantha's outfit was even sexier. Her suit was a blue jacket that was form fitting over a spandex-type dress in the same color. I thought I had done well at Victoria's Secret, but Samantha had stopped by Frederick's of Hollywood, gone with a slightly sluttier look, and she pulled it off incredibly. Under her dress, she was wearing a white satin merry widow, complete with a garter belt and sheer white stockings. Chelsea did our hair, makeup, and provided just a bit of perfume. She then got dressed herself. She looked slightly more reserved than we did, in a black medium length skirt, light blue silk shirt, a standard black jacket, buttoned most of the way up and some red boots that came up to just below her knees, but she was a model so she always knew how to make herself look hot. The three of us then headed to the office.
Samantha had reserved her firm's second floor conference room and lounge for our meeting. This was essential, as the rest of the firm would be on the first floor, and we would be getting way too much attention dressed like we were in the office with everyone else around. While two clueless guys sitting across a table from us wouldn't notice how over the top we were dressed (at least not until it was too late,) anyone else who just happened to see us would. We looked like sexy costume versions of a lawyer and a business woman, not the real deals. We knew, though, that no one else would be on the second floor. There was nothing else up there besides the two rooms that we had reserved. We arrived early and Samantha placed me on the far side of the conference room table, facing the door. She then sat to my left, at the end of the table.
At 10:00 sharp James and Mr. Harrison arrived. As they entered, I noticed James' eyes widen a bit as he saw me (and he only was seeing me from the waist up behind the table.) As he was taking in everything about me, he finally noticed Samantha.
He couldn't really help it, as her arm "accidentally" brushed across his crotch as she leaned by him to close the door. Being a gentleman, he said nothing, but I noticed his face turning a pale shade of red. Samantha acted as though she didn't even notice. As he and his lawyer took their seats, James directly across from me and Mr. Harrison to his left, Samantha walked behind them to her seat and discretely slid the a/c temperature control down to 60. Samantha started passing out copies of the agreement that Mr. Harrison had sent over, appropriately leaning over the table to hand each guy his copy.
How those tits didn't just spill out, I'll never know! Her spandex dress was straining hard to keep those contained. The guys just sat there and had no idea what to do. They probably thought that it would be unprofessional to say anything, but they certainly could not focus on anything else right now.
I pretended to be studying the copies as, out of the corner of my eye, I caught James looking at me. My mouth was slightly open and, without looking at him, I gently and slowly traced my lips with my tongue. His jaw almost fell to the table! I had noticed that he enjoyed watching my mouth over the previous few months, but I had never directly teased him with it. He didn't even realize that I was doing that now. By this time Samantha was done with the passing out of the copies and was asking Mr. Harrison questions about parts of the agreement. She had moved over sort of next to him, ostensibly to look on his copy with him, but in reality, she was simply distracting him with those boobs. He kept losing his place in the agreement and having to go back. I should point out that he didn't seem to mind even though Sam's questions were very elementary. Mr. Harrison probably was used to more difficult questions from the law students who worked as clerks in his firm.
While this was going on I had started gently stroking James' leg with by foot under the table; he looked up, surprised, but made no effort to move his leg, especially as I blew him a kiss. The poor guy had to be going crazy- no sex for a week, unknowingly swallowing a Cialis, having a beautiful woman stroke his crotch with her arm and now being teased by the girl who wanted to be his wife. I kept it up by casually tracing my pen around my cleavage as I went back to pretending to read the copies.
Just then, Chelsea opened the door and announced that there was a phone call for Mr. Harrison that he could take in the lounge. James acted put out by this; I'm sure he just wanted this meeting to end.
I stated very quickly that I thought it would be fine for the lawyer to go take his call. James looked at me, and as I almost imperceptibly nodded my head, he immediately agreed. I could tell that he was already in no condition to argue with me. I took a sip from my water bottle and James' eyes never left my mouth. There is an art to drinking out of a bottle seductively, but I had mastered that a long time ago. I'm sure that I had sent many a high school boy straight to the restroom to relieve himself during our lunch period with this skill.
As Mr. Harrison left with Chelsea, Samantha suggested that I join James on the other side of the table so she could easily present her summary to both of us together. I fluidly moved around the table and sat next to James placing my hand on his thigh as Samantha droned on in her legalese.
One room over in the lounge, Chelsea had led Mr. Harrison to a seat on one end of a sofa next to a table with a telephone on it. He picked it up but couldn't find the call. Chelsea knew this would happen since there was no call, so she leaned over him from her seat next to him and began checking the various lines herself. After a few seconds of rubbing against him (disguised as quickly trying to recover the call), Chelsea suggested that they wait a few minutes to see if the caller telephoned again. Mr. Harrison somehow was still in professional mode and stated that he would wait one minute but that he really must get back to his client.
Chelsea knew that she couldn't let him leave yet; she had to keep him occupied for about 45 minutes, not just one lousy minute. Luckily, she was a very smart girl and had taken her part in this meeting very seriously. She realized that she had been given the toughest assignment. She had to tease and distract a professional from doing his job, while Samantha merely had to be eye candy, and I just had to tease my fiance who, after the week that he had just had, would be extremely receptive. Chelsea went ahead and agreed with Mr. Harrison that they would just wait a minute, and she stood and crossed the room to pick up a cup of water.
"I'm awfully warm," she said, "Are you okay? Would you like something?"
As Mr. Harrison declined the offer, Chelsea began unbuttoning her black jacket, slowly fingering each button as she gently let the jacket fall open. The lawyer was watching, getting more interested as each button unhooked, and he seemed disappointed when the jacket was finally open. Chelsea was pretending to be focused on her water, but she knew that he was paying attention. She set her water down and took off her jacket; she was now in a mid-length black skirt and pale blue silk top- very tasteful, elegant even though some traces of red and yellow could be seen beneath her shirt. Mr. Harrison began to stare.
"Thank God," she thought to herself, "If this hadn't worked I would have looked ridiculous."
"Am I alright, Mr. Harrison? You seem to be staring; is something on my shirt?"
"Oh, no. Everything is fine. I'm sorry," he replied.
Chelsea thought to herself, "Damn, he's still in professional mode," but she kept at it.
She spoke again, "Are you sure? I'm feeling kind of paranoid now."
Harrison was now speaking more softly and more measured, trying to find just the right words. "Everything's fine I assure you; I just happened to notice that I think you might can see through your top."
"Well, aren't you the bad boy?" she coyly teased, "trying to look at me through my shirt."
"No, no," he stammered, "It's not like that; I mean, I thought I saw something; not you, something else."
"I really don't know what you're talking about Mr. Harrison; let me get you some water," she said as she turned away.
Mr. Harrison was afraid that he was now looking and sounding perverted, or worse in his mind, unprofessional, so he tried to clear it up. "What I'm trying to say is that it looked like you had something else on under your top. I don't know where my mind was, but I thought I saw a Superman logo; it was something red and yellow, at least."
"Oh God!" Chelsea exclaimed, "You can see that through my shirt? I'm so sorry; let me put my jacket back on."
"No, no, please. I barely noticed it. You may want the jacket when we go back into the conference room though. It does show; is it a Superman logo?" He was anxious to know.
Chelsea was relieved and thought, "Good, he's talking to me, not thinking about the time."
The words that she spoke were, "You must think I'm such a geek, Mr, Harrison; I'm really sorry. I just have this costume party coming up and I wanted to find someone in the office who could tell me if it looks okay or not. I just haven't found anyone who knows much about Supergirl yet. I need to find someone who remembers the Supergirl movie and can tell me if I look like Helen Slater did in the film."
Mr. Harrison's Superman hobby, or obsession, was now taking over. "Chelsea, I'm surprised you know that film. It came out in 1984 and didn't do too well, critically or commercially."
"Oh yes," Chelsea replied, "my mom had an old VHS copy of it when I was growing up; I so wanted to be Helen Slater. Do you know the film well?"
As Mr. Harrison responded that he did, that he had a DVD of it and an original movie poster, Chelsea smiled and nodded him along. He continued on that he had once met Helen Slater at a convention and then moved into listing more Supergirl trivia points. As he was talking, Chelsea quickly pulled her blue silk top over her head revealing a form-fitting Supergirl top that looked closer to perfection than anything that this lawyer could have imagined.