Valentine, Be Mine Ch. 02

Somehow, he found the stamina to hold us both upright, leaning against the wall for support. Neither of us moved for long seconds while we recovered strength and wits. Between the gorgeous man, his magnificent cock, and the danger of being caught in such a risky, very public venue, I had cum harder than ever before in my life. I leaned back, put my hand behind his neck and pulled his face to me. I locked lips in a searing kiss, thrusting my tongue as far into his mouth as I could reach.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Lover," I murmured after withdrawing my assaulting muscle.

"It was one of my better ones," he agreed glibly.

I punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"Better?" I growled. "It better have been your best ever, or so help me, I will rip it out at the root!"

"Well, you were pretty good," he admitted, smirking, "and you definitely showed spirit…."

My hand closed menacingly around the base of his softening tool. My nails dug into the tender flesh.

"…andoncarefulconsiderationyouwereabsolutelypositivelythebestIhaveeverhad," he finished in a single breath.

"Thank you," I chirped sarcastically.

Vince walked me to my car. The lot was still flush with people trying to extricate their automobiles from the tangle of jockeying sheetmetal. I am certain they could tell at a glance what we had been up to, between our disheveled appearance, the way I hung all over him like a cheap suit - and the rivulet of cum snaking down my inner thigh. They might have gotten an additional clue when, right in front of them, I casually tucked my torn panties into his shirt pocket, along with a business card on which I had scribbled my cell number.

"Will you be all right driving home, Evie?" he asked thoughtfully.

I rested my hand on his cheek.

"There is nothing like a fast, frantic fuck to sober a girl up," I purred. "I'll be fine, but I'm not going home. I'm renting a room for at least the weekend, possibly longer."

I told him the name and location of the place I was staying. His eyes lit up immediately.

"I know that place," he exclaimed "I've stayed there myself – for an hour or two, anyway."

An evil gleam filled his eyes.

"You mean you are a…" he began.

I winked and pulled his face to mine, rubbing my lips back and forth across his.

"I am this weekend… Sugar," I interrupted softly. "You want a piece of that action? Think of tonight as a free sample."

His cock lurched to life in his jeans. I smiled coyly. Vince had a kink - and I was all over it like white on rice. I was thrilled with my new-found power.

"Absolutely, I want a piece," he confirmed with a smirk.

"Call me tomorrow and I'll… pencil you in," I cooed.

Since Vince might be calling me, I turned on my cell phone on my way back to the motel. Hmmm; twenty-three new voicemail messages – all from the same familiar number. They'll keep! I set my ringer to silent mode, reclaimed my car and left.

I awoke about ten to a buzzing in my ear. I became aware of my unfamiliar surroundings and just lay there, trying to get oriented. My God; what on earth had I done the night before? Oh, I remembered that part, all right; the drinking, dirty dancing, and every juicy, squishy, pounding, thundering detail of the magnificent fuck afterwards. I just couldn't believe I had done that. What could have possessed me to be such an absolute slut, in public – with a man? I wasn't that drunk. How had I even gotten to BBG? Not only could I not remember driving there, I couldn't remember making the decision to go.

The flashing light in my peripheral vision caught my attention. The buzzing was my cell phone, still set for silent ring, vibrating across the wood tabletop. This time, it wasn't Joanna.

"Hello?"

"Bobby? This is Helen Henderson, returning your call. It's been a while. How are you?"

My heart skipped a beat. Helen Henderson was a living legend, both in legal circles and to the public at large. You will never meet a more tenacious, go-for-the-jugular adversary in a court of law. In her earlier years, her image was that of a fashion plate in long leather trench coat, stylishly coiffed hair and red lipstick. She was still a real 'looker' – until you crossed swords with her in the courtroom. If there was a high-profile case involving divorce, spousal-abuse, -battering, or even -murder, Helen was usually right in the middle of it. It was common knowledge she had a permit to carry a concealed weapon - to protect herself from her clients' enraged ex-husbands, who had tasted her legal wrath.

"Helen! Thank you for returning my call – and on a Saturday, no less. I'm surprised you even remember me, much less called me back on a weekend."

There was silence for a moment.

"Bobby, are you all right? You sound… different."

Damn! How do I explain my changed voice without sounding like a wing nut? If I can just talk her into a face-to-face….

"I just have a touch of laryngitis, Helen. Come to think of it, I had no voice at all when we met at L.A. Fashion Week two years ago. You asked me out for lunch – and ordered chicken soup for me, wasn't it? I never had an opportunity to thank you verbally – Mom."

We shared a laugh over that remembered incident and my good-natured jab at her display of maternal instinct towards a guy the other fashionistas were trying to lure between the sheets.

"So, Bobby, how is that lovely wife of yours?"

It was my turn to pause. I took a deep breath.

"That's why I called, Helen," I spoke as evenly as I could. "I need to see you – professionally."

"Oh, no," she groaned, "not you, too! You and Joanna were such a lovely couple. Bobby, you know I don't usually represent husbands."

I was waiting for that.

"This is really complicated," I began, "and not something I can explain over the phone. If we can meet in person, I think I can convince you my case is exactly what your practice is all about. All I ask is that you keep an open mind. I will trust that your love of the law and sense of justice outweigh any pre-conceived notions you might have… based on gender."

I was taking an awful chance with that last admonition. It was like waving a red flag in the face of the nation's most prominent feminist/attorney, to whom 'Thou shalt not abuse thy wife' was the only commandment.

Perhaps I had piqued her curiosity. Perhaps I had shamed her. Perhaps she had been more attracted to me that long-ago meeting than she had let on. To my astonishment and delight, she agreed to meet me for lunch – at noon. Sure, no problem. I'll just slip into something fresh from my wardrobe – back at the house, where Joanna will be able to sink her hooks into me. I surveyed the damage to the suit and blouse I had worn the night before. Despite the frantic sex in the alley, after brushing off the back with my hand, I decided it really wasn't in bad shape. The stockings were a different story and, of course, I would need another pair of panties and makeup. After showering, dressing, and fluffing up my permed hair, I had enough time to stop at the mall on my way to lunch. A whirlwind trip through Macy's, followed by a stop in the public washroom, did the trick. Damn the stares; full speed ahead!

Helen was already seated when I arrived. The hostess had given her a high-backed booth against the wall. Perfect, I thought. We will need the privacy. I strode confidently towards her, smiling. She noted my approach, perhaps with the slightest hint of amusement for a young woman who had yet to learn to dress appropriately for daytime. Then, she gazed past me – towards the door, obviously looking for the 'me' she was expecting to see. I planted myself right in front of her and extended my hand.

"Helen?" I opened.

The expression on her face was somewhere between curiosity and confusion. The attorney gazed up at me, trying to associate a name with the face.

"Shall we order the chicken soup for old times' sake?" I teased.

It was just like in the cartoons. Helen's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull as she took me in from head to toe, then back again.

"Bob-by?" she responded haltingly.

"In the flesh," I acknowledged demurely – at least, as 'demure' as I could muster, given my anything-but appearance. "Perhaps a bit more flesh than you remember. Sorry; I didn't have time to shop for a more appropriate outfit and get here on time. I'm sure you are a little… perplexed."

"Your gift for understatement is exceeded only by your appearance," my companion replied with a twinkle in her eyes. "I suppose I should start by declaring you look… lovely, if a bit overdressed."

"If you will allow me, I will explain everything," I promised.

"You have my undivided attention," she proclaimed, trying mightily not to smirk. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The smile left her face shortly after the waiter left with our order. I elaborated on the past few months of my life, based on what I remembered and what I had learned in the past twenty-four hours. I had come to the luncheon armed with Joanna's laptop and a couple of disks from my 'therapy', plus the second of the 'Jake' disks. Our salads were left largely untouched as I played the recorded sessions for her. She strove to keep her face neutral, but the clench of her jaw gave her away. When the playback concluded, she gazed into my eyes with steely determination in hers.

"You knew nothing about what she was doing to you?" Helen inquired carefully. "She never cleared it with you beforehand?"

"Other than having me sign the release authorizing her to use hypnotherapy, she wouldn't tell me anything," I confirmed. "She said she would share everything with me later – when she thought I was ready."

"I apologize, Bobby," the attorney stated quietly. "I am so used to dealing with thugs, I sometimes forget abuse and betrayal can be a two-way street. This is the most despicable professional and personal betrayal I have ever witnessed. 'Malfeasance' doesn't even begin to describe what Joanna did to you. At the very least, she should lose her license to practice psychiatry for this. You say she also recorded her trysts with this 'Jake'?"

"Yes. I brought one of them with me as well," I responded. "Would you like to watch it?"

"After seeing this much, I don't know if I have the stomach for it," Helen attested, "but yes, I need to see that, too. Keep the volume down, please, and turn the screen away from the rest of the room. I don't want anyone to think I come here to watch porn. Wait a minute. I need to go to the Ladies room first. I'm sure I won't want to be interrupted, once we begin. Would you like to come with me?"

I shook my head.

"No, I'm fine," I replied. "I'll just wait for you here."

Helen made her way towards the alcove at the back of the room. I shook my head ruefully, realizing I had just committed a cardinal sin for ladies dining out. Well, I wasn't exactly used to this sort of thing….

It occurred to me; since I had not yet viewed this particular 'Jake' video, I had no idea what he and Joanna were doing on it. What if it was something really offensive – or if my wife had somehow sucked me into the action without my conscious knowledge? I didn't feel secure enough in my relationship with Helen to risk having to explain what might, at first glance, appear to be my willing participation in this nightmare. I decided I'd better pre-screen at least the first few minutes while she was in the Ladies room, just to make sure. I turned the screen to face towards the back of the booth. I queued up the disk and Joanne's face came into view….

It was almost three PM. I was pacing back and forth in my little motel room, clad only in corset, stockings and heels and driven to distraction. Where was he? I called him a half-hour ago. What was taking him so damn long? The knock on the door made me jump with a start. Finally! I raced to the door and flung it open, banging it against the wall. Vince didn't even have time to say "Hello" before I leapt into his arms, wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. I kissed him so savagely, I threatened to draw blood. In mere moments, I was on my back on the bed with him on top of me. I thought he shut the door behind him, but I really didn't care. I couldn't get his throbbing manhood inside my love canal fast enough to suit me. We fucked like animals until daylight - and his stamina - faded. It wasn't enough!

I dressed hurriedly as my erstwhile lover lay passed out from exhaustion on the bed. I grabbed my purse and keys and glanced briefly at his supine form as I rushed out the door. Wimp, I sneered. If you're not man enough to satisfy me, I'll find someone who is. Then again, I had ridden him hard and put him up wet; perhaps I should cut him some slack. Nah!

The stores were still open – at least, the ones I wanted. After having to leave my home so suddenly, I found myself with an embarrassing lack of wardrobe – especially, the right wardrobe. I was setting a mantrap and had to have the right 'bait'. I shopped several specialty apparel and shoe stores along the Boulevard until closing time, having to make several trips back to the car to stow my treasures in the trunk. I found something I absolutely adored at Taboo, my last stop of the evening. After trying it on, I examined myself in the three-way mirror, went to the counter to pay for it, then returned to the dressing room to ratchet up my makeup to match.

I strutted saucily out the door as the associate locked up behind me. The tight, stiff, unyielding black patent corset dress extended from just above my areolas to my knees, hobbling my gait and forcing me to undulate my firm, rounded tush to compensate. My boobies were pressed up and together, forming a deep chasm of cleavage. The clerk had cinched down the corset laces as tightly as they would go, then tucked the ends inside. I could barely breathe, but my hand-span waist more than made up for it. The seams of my sheer, jet-black stockings traced a straight, unerring path directly to my love nest. My new black patent sandals were little more than a platform with six-inch stiletto heels and a series of thin straps that wound around my legs and buckled at the top of my calves. I felt like a million bucks – and looked like I could command at least that price.

There is something about a busty blonde in tight patent leather and stilettos that seems to reduce normal, reasonably-articulate men to babbling blobs of jelly. That old axiom about the eyes being "a window to the soul" obviously had not been coined in a pick-up bar. All I saw reflected in those eyes were just so many throbbing dicks, demanding release. So what if the first two backed out when they found out about my 'plumbing problem'? There were a lot more where they came from.

The third time was definitely the charm. This guy was handsome, well-dressed, and didn't mind spending money to show a girl a good time. The stigma of champagne was still fresh in my mind, but I forced myself (yeah, right; I forced myself to drink Dom) and had a good time. After a set of close-dancing – allowing me to check out the goods – Mr. Right Now and I hopped into our cars and sped back to the motel. I didn't expect Vince to be there, and he wasn't. At that moment, I really didn't care. If he had been, I might have been able to give him a little extra added visual incentive to do a better job next time. I smirked at that thought.

R.N. might not have been the biggest stallion in the stable (after Vince, I was a little jaded), but he was a thoroughbred and went the distance. I was more stunned than anything when he laid three hundred-dollar bills on the dresser as he headed for the door. I had only hinted about it with Vince in a teasing way and hadn't mentioned it at all with my 'date'. It had never really occurred to me…. Still, I wasn't going to turn it down. If for no other reason, I was anticipating an industrial-strength legal bill. I murmured my appreciation, accompanied by a tight hug, deep kiss, and business card. Damn, I was going to need more of those – without the company logo.

After a good night's sleep, I examined the wreckage in the bathroom mirror as the shower water was warming up. Dammit, Bobbi; you did it again! I didn't even remember saying good-bye to Helen at lunch. Suddenly, I was back in my motel room, screwing anything in pants. At least I remembered that part. I couldn't honestly say it had been unpleasant; not by a long shot. Still….

I came out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around my body and another around my hair, and checked my cell phone. This time, the messages were equally divided between Joanna and Helen. I called Helen.

"Bobby!" she exclaimed. "What happened to you? You were stunned speechless when I returned to the table. After seeing what Joanna and Jake were doing, I couldn't say I blamed you, so I kept my mouth shut and watched with you. When you slipped out of the booth at the end, I thought it had been too much for you and you had to get some air. You never came back and I couldn't find you anywhere in the restaurant. Was it that upsetting?"

"Honestly, Helen," I admitted, "I don't even remember watching the damn thing. I was discussing my situation with you, then you went to the Ladies room. The next thing I remember was being back in my room and… well, we can go into that another time."

"Do you have these blackouts frequently?" she asked. "Has anything bad happened during one of these episodes?"

"You are beginning to sound like Joanna," I replied testily, then apologized for it. "I don't really remember having them at all until now. As for 'anything bad' happening… let's just call it different from what I am used to. I can't… don't feel comfortable discussing it over the phone. I am really sorry for leaving you so suddenly. Are we okay?"

"I'm not angry," she confirmed, "just concerned for you – as a client and friend. Can you come to my home this afternoon? I already have some thoughts about the case and want to share them with you. After yesterday, I'm a little worried about you, too. I want to see with my own eyes you are all right. Maybe you can dress a bit more… casually than yesterday?"

I rang Helen's doorbell at two. This time, I was more appropriately attired. The "V" of my clingy sweater showed just a hint of cleavage. The new jeans were cuffed to mid-calf, showing off my knee boots. If she took issue with the four-inch heels, she didn't say so. In fact, her smile was anything but off-putting. She slipped her arm through mine and escorted me to the living room. The computer and DVD's were on the coffee table.

"I took care of your laptop for you," she offered. "I made copies of the disks, too. I would appreciate you making copies of the others, as well. We will need the originals as 'best evidence' - whether we can actually use them or not. I have to tell you up front: we will have admissibility problems with them in court. Technically, you obtained them through commission of a crime; breaking into Joanna's office. Legal precedent views them as 'fruit of the poisoned tree'. We might be able to get them admitted in the divorce action, but probably not if we pursue her criminally. As cock-eyed as it may sound, it might also be interpreted as violating doctor-patient privilege by introducing them.