Correction Correction

It was quite a while before I got up the nerve to return to court, but as I gradually recovered and hurt less my life returned to normal. So today I'm back. I chose a striped shirt, as I imagined Six had suggested. Horizontal stripes wouldn't do in court, and I didn't have one anyway, so my stripes today are vertical, but they'll do.

As the courtroom fills, I'm back in the swing, watching the lawyers, clerks and other professionals greet one another and begin the cheerful banter which is so contrasted to the later seriousness. No tormentor yet, I see, but they don't usually come in this early. The judge, on the other hand, seems to be running late -- the session was supposed to start twenty minutes ago. Not so unusual either.

Must be my lucky day. In walks my original tormentor, along with Six -- two tormentors is unusual. They split and take seats on opposite sides of the courtroom. Just after them the judge enters. A lady judge too -- this will be an excellent day!

ALL RISE, and in the bustle of standing the judge says something I can't hear -- probably a humorous excuse for being late, I suppose, based on the titter which runs around the front of the courtroom. Just then Six looks toward the back and sees me standing there. She acknowledges me with a flicker of a smile, and I smile back with a bit of embarrassment and a shiver of delight. Perhaps I stood too fast; my head goes all fuzzy and light. The courtroom diffuses into a diamond: Judge at home plate, Six on first, the Tormentor on third. With a quick look Six throws the ocular baseball across the courtroom to the Tormentor, who catches it and with a glance in my direction sends it whizzing toward my seat at second. I rush frantically back to safety as the umpire cries "OUT." The judge frowns at Six and then the Tormentor, who continue to chuckle a little longer than the others.

"Surely my little quip wasn't that funny," she must be thinking. No mystery to me -- as the judge motions us to sit I can feel the hot sticky residue of my ejaculation oozing down my pants.

"Consider us even," I seem to hear in the rustling. Touché, Six.