A Quick Judgment

Theresa wore the plaid skirt today. Judge William Taber wondered if she was wearing panties under them. The skirt was formfitting but he hadn't been able to see her walk in or sit down behind the stenograph machine, having obviously been in his chambers.

Taber had thought about wearing little to nothing under his robe today. He had called Theresa the night before, had phone sex with her for three hours and, near the end, he asked her if she wanted to try the real thing today. She had made some crack about how she could take him for sexual harassment if he kept pressing his luck.

"So is that a yes or a no?" he had asked, his prick hard in his hand.

"Why not?" she answered. "Could be fun."

Taber had thought about wearing little to nothing under his robe but he'd read about the judge that had been caught masturbating through cases.

That, coupled with the fact of Theresa sitting just a few feet away and the memory of the night before, plus the prospect of what was to come, he didn't dare.

Oh, yeah, and the clerks coming and going while the defense and prosecution made their statements.

Nope, forget it. Let's have even more fun seeing how quick we have to be in recess.

Taber propped his head on his hand as he listened to attorney and ADAs run through why this person should be moved to trial and why this person was completely innocent.

Never, in his career, had he been so bored listening to arguments in law. Usually, it was the highlight of his day. After work, he'd have to go home to the wife, who had long since given up in the bedroom and didn't even sleep in there anymore. If she had heard him the night previous, she hadn't shown any signs of caring.

He wished he could figure out a way to speed these arguments to their inevitable conclusions.

Finally, he looked at the clock. It was noon. Lunch time. Perfect time for a recess. He'd just wait until the blonde woman defending some guy closed and then he'd gavel for lunch.

Half an hour later, they were still there, she was still droning on.

"I hate to interrupt, counselor," he said, thinking, yeah, right, "but I'd like to have lunch some time this century." He raised his eyebrows in mock plea. Whatever she was going to say didn't matter to William Taber; they were adjuring. "Please conclude."

She did, five minutes later. Christ, some people!

He got up after banging the gavel, glanced in Theresa's direction and she smiled and he went behind closed doors.

A couple minutes later, Theresa knocked and then came in.

He was in the middle of taking his robe off when she stopped him.

"Leave it on," she said and then ran her hands under the hem of the garment and found his fly, unzipped and unbuttoned his pants and pulled them and his underwear down.

"For the record," Theresa said, "I'm not wearing any panties so this isn't going to take too long."

"We've got an hour," he replied. Her lips found his and then he shut up.

Theresa shoved him backward and into his chair and she straddled him, pulled his robe up and stroked his cock. He groaned and she laughed.

"Like that?"

"Love it," Taber said, his jaw clenched.

She took hold of her skirt with her free hand and rolled up until her naked sex was showing. Taber bent his neck and looked at her and then watched her rub his cockhead against her opening.

"We don't have much time," he said now, contradicting himself from earlier. Theresa giggled.

"Which is it, your honor? Too much time or not enough?" She continued slipping his spongy head up and down her wetness. She loved to drive men crazy like she was doing now.

Taber's hands were gripping the chair's arms so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"Please," he begged.

Theresa's smile was devious. "Please what?"

"Please, put it inside of you."

"What's in it for me?" she asked.

And suddenly he realized that he was caught in her trap. He'd heard about her, about Theresa Walters AKA The Black Widow. He'd heard about how she would put out if you gave her something in return.

And he never had believed it.

But here she was, asking to be paid in return for sex.

Theresa leaned forward and licked his neck, even as she continued teasing him.

"What's in it for me?" she repeated.

Taber tried to squirm free and her grip on his cock tightened.

"Tell me, Billy Boy," she said in his ear, then bit his lobe, pulling at it with her teeth. "What do have for me, stud?"

He mumbled something and she loosened slightly her grip on his cock but shoved it inside of her and bounced up and down. She'd gotten what she wanted, there was no need to hold back now.

Theresa threw her head back and urged him to fuck her, told him to do her harder, faster, deeper.

She had her orgasm about ten seconds before she felt him explode deeply inside of her. She collapsed forward against him.

After a few moments, Theresa lifted off of him, his penis coming out of her with a sticky sound.

"Remember your promise," she told him as she rearranged her skirt, smoothed her shirt and hair and checked her lipstick in his mirror. "More importantly, remember who I know."

And then she left.

Three weeks later, Theresa Walters AKA The Black Widow went from court stenographer to William Taber's secretary.

Sure, it was virtually the same job, with the typing and the filing and everything else. But, closer to Taber, Theresa could control her destiny, getting anything she wanted out of him.

A year later, she was his wife.

A year after that, she read about the untimely death of an American judge, a victim of a heart attack, the papers said.

But then again, they could be wrong. Theresa Walters Taber picked up her drink and took a sip. She eyed a thirty-something blond surfer come up out of the ocean.

She shrugged. "Why not? Could be fun," she said and moved off in his direction.