Forbidden Fruit Ch. 01

Callista Monroe entered the shimmering glass high rise that housed the prestigious firm of Tyson, Turner and Tyson, LLP. The rat-a-tat-tat of her heels against the green marble tile of the foyer announcing her presence to the world. Callie Monroe was the type of woman whose presence was always announced. At thirty-eight, she was a full partner at TT&T. A feat that was her greatest accomplishment. And considering her lowly beginnings a rather remarkable one.

Despite Callie's cool and regal platinum blonde appearance, she had not been born with a silver spoon. Quite the opposite in fact. Callie was 'trailer trash' as it was not so affectionately known. She was the only member of her family to finish high school. Let alone college and law school. Her high school friends...all pregnant before graduation.

And while Callie gloried in her accomplishments, she felt her isolation deeply. She would never, could never truly fit with the blue bloods from her Vassar and Harvard alumni. But she also truly never could go home again. Even if she wanted to. And who would want to?

So instead Callista Monroe did one thing. And one thing only, she worked. Ninety maybe a hundred hours a week. Even as a partner, especially as a partner. Her latest negotiations in Vegas a complete success...

Well almost. But that didn't count. That was personal. All that mattered was business...and that as always went exactly like she planned. Without a single hitch.

Pressing the up button on the elevator. Pounding it would be more accurate. Patience was not a virtue that Callie possessed in any abundance. So she saved it for negotiations. The important stuff. And everything else...well, she wanted it when she wanted it.

Would that damned elevator never arrive? It was 6:55 already. She wanted to get to the office. She had messages to check. Emails to read. And notes to prepare. Before the office started to fill up with people. The doors opened wide as she stepped into the elevator. Pressing the P...penthouse.

Breathing deeply. Penthouse. How far the little girl from Fayetteville, North Carolina had come. She had conquered the big city, Los Angeles. The City of Angeles. Hell, she had conquered the country. Her expertise in labor law and discrimination made her one of the most sought after negotiators in the country. Not bad Callie girl.

The door of the elevator opened wide once more to the office suite of Tyson Turner and Tyson LLP. Callie stepped from the elevator and headed straight to her office. Gena her assistant always efficient had turned the timer on the coffee pot for 6:45. Fresh coffee, thank god. Pouring herself a cup she sat behind her glass desk. Turning her lap top on. Eighty-seven new messages. Damn. Since yesterday. Sifting through them: A, B, and fuck it priorities.

One of the B caught her attention. A reminder. Their summer law interns began today. An attachment included the rather impressive resume of the new law student assigned to her for the next twelve weeks...Donavan Something the other. UNLV School of Law...top of his class...yada-yada-yada. Shit, she hated giving lessons.

Her mind strayed then to the last lesson she had given. Her hand rubbed the tight muscles of her shoulder at that thought. But damn the kid had been good. But it wasn't the lesson plan she had imagined. This was why she hated teaching.

Shit! Maybe she could talk Jack Tyson out of this one? He owed her big time after the Vegas trip. Reassign the kid to someone with the patience to handle it. She had work to do. She always had work to do. It was all she ever did.

Callie focused on clearing her emails. On prioritizing her calls. Three from her mother. Damn, the woman must need money again. Probably her fucking good for nothing brother. In trouble again. Not how she wanted to begin her day. Using the intercom, Gena should be at her desk by now. "Gena, call my mother. See how much this time, please." Crumbling that note, she tossed it in the garbage at her feet. Then she turned back her lap top. Putting the finishing touches on her notes for the Vegas trip. Jack Tyson should kiss her lily white trailer trash ass for the finesse she'd used on this one.

***

Donavan Bradshaw walked into the TT&T building with nothing but business on his mind. The only sound about him was the sound of his boots that seemed to thunder along the hall way as he made it to the elevator. He felt eyes were on him as he moved smoothly across the tile floor. But then again he had become accustomed to that. Being a black male in this country was never easy. He wondered for a moment if the equally black guard would have the courage to question his presence in the obviously upscale office complex...this time. If not he was certain he would eventually be blessed with the experience. He always was.

His dark complexion was smooth, very clean and at most, alluring to all females around him. His lifestyle was very interesting. Intriguing to some in fact. He just bet especially to the one he owed this visit. It was going to be a total blast from her past.

Casually he stepped to the elevator at the end of the hall. His dark brown eyes looked the tall metal doors over slightly as he pressed the up button. He then looked at the paper which he held in his right hand. The word "Penthouse" clearly printed on the top of the page in big bold print let he know that he was indeed close.

He owed her, yes he did. The night got to him as most other things never could. He was accustomed to women...all ages and all shapes and sizes...adoring him. It wasn't something he consciously tried to manipulate. It just sort of happened. But this, Callie, she was something different.

The doors parted for him and his six foot plus frame passed without any hesitation into the elevator. His fingers searched the buttons lightly as a smile crept across his well shaven face. "Mmmm, penthouse huh. Sounds just like you Callie," he said to himself as the doors closed behind him followed by a 'ding.' Soon, the elevator began to move and he was on his way to talk with the very person that had been on his mind for the past week.

This internship thing was going to prove to be most interesting indeed. As he neared his destination, he opened his portfolio, looking at a simple sheet of paper. A very legal document. Something that he had drawn up the very morning he woke alone in his bed. His very lovely companion from the night before gone. He had planned on telling the alluring Miss Callista Monroe who he was that morning. But he had never gotten the chance. This document did it for him.

Soon, the elevator slowed, finally coming to a stop on the penthouse floor. His cocky attitude was too strong for him to feel any nervousness about the situation. He supposed that's what happens when you strip for hundreds, even thousands of women a week. The doors parted and let the crisp early morning light shine through the area. The scent of coffee filled his nostrils, letting him know that he was in the right place.

Silently he stepped off the elevator and began his walk to her office. He walked right past the secretary, ignoring her attempts to get his attention, not hearing her ask him what he was doing there. This was none of her business. Besides, he only dealt with the ones in charge directly. That's how he always was and always would be. His background was pretty cut and dry. A bad boy since his youth, always doing things his way and getting things the way he wanted, nothing less.

Which was kinda the case in this present position he found himself in. He made his way down the hall. Hearing her sultry southern voice over the intercom, its warm caress igniting the same need deep in his gut. Donavan smiled to himself. His lips curled lightly at each end as he ran his thumb and pointer finger over his well-groomed goatee that was evenly shaved along his jaw line and around his lips.

Finally he stood before her door. Waiting just a moment he steeled his resolve. "Now is the best time," he whispered to himself. Without bothering to knock, he turned the knob and stepped in, closing the door soundly behind him as to draw her attention. With a smile on his face that was as wide as it was the night they first met, he stepped forward, placing both hands on her desk and gently spoke "Well, hello there, Miss Monroe" Winking, he added, "Or should I say Callie Jean?"

***

Callie looked up from the screen of her lap top at the sound of the door closing. What she saw only made a bad day worse. Two words running through her mind...black mail. She muttered aloud "Son of a bitch." The she hit her intercom button once more to Gena, "Take ALL my calls...and no one enters this office...not even Jack." Especially not Jack Tyson. Breathing hard she gathered her reserves.

Calming herself, she plastered that same cool poker face that always seemed to win at the negotiations tables back in place. Once more she mumbled to herself. She had come too far for one little indiscretion to fuck it all up. "Get your hands off my desk." Her steely blue gaze met his. Letting him know that he was on her turf now. "I'd offer you a seat but you won't be staying that long. How much now?"

"Oh I beg to differ," his voice was calm and cool, reserved and well calculated. He kept his position as he looked over to the black folder that his right hand had been resting on. Something he obviously brought in with him. "There is no price. But I want you to take a look at something." He slid the folder her way with a simple flick of his wrist. Then stood up and turned, walking over to the chair that she had so casually referred to and sat down, crossing his hands in front of him. "Make sure you take a good look at everything there, then sign it." His words were a command, not a request.

Callie shook her head. Not a single platinum blonde strand falling from her tight bun. Rule number one of negotiations: don't let them see you sweat. "I'm kinda busy here," she motioned to the stacks of papers about her. "So how about you just summarize it for me? So I can get back to the real world." Her gaze was cold and steely, "You can pick up a personal check from Gena on your way out the door."

Her eyes took in his stunning body sheathed now in a crisp linen business suit. Damn the kid looked almost as good in a suit as he looked in his birthday suit. Almost. But not quite. "I don't have times for your games. What was the price again? $10,000? A bit steep...but hell you were almost worth it." She turned back to the computer screen. "Goodbye, because this is the last of the gravy train pumpkin."

***

A grin slid across his face once more as he continued to sit. This wasn't going to take that much doing once he let her know what was really going on. And who was really going to be calling the shots from this point on. Donavan leaned forward a bit then shook his head lightly "Umm.. Is that any way to treat your intern, Miss Monroe? Because I was under the impression that ALL interns were treated with the utmost respect."

He paused to allow the significance of his words to sink in. "And furthermore, as far as a 'Gravy Train' goes, things will continue going for however long I want. Now, if you will please read the documents inside and sign them." His voice was calm and still. It had been the whole entire time he spoke to her. He then sat back in his seat, returning his fingers to their previous position.

***

"My what?" Callie opened the folder. More to have something to do while she collected herself than anything else. While she plotted her next point of attack. Rule number two: look like you're in charge...even when you aren't.

Her eyes began to scan the document. Her golden brows soon knitted together as she found herself caught up in the document. The style was good, even if the content made her cringe. "Who wrote this?" The idea that another person was privy to this information, even if that person was protected by attorney client privilege was disturbing.

This broke one of Callie's personal rules: you don't shit where you eat. She looked up again, "Who wrote this?"

Not that she had known where she had been shitting at the time. But that was beside the point. The current situation was unworkable. She was a discrimination attorney. And this was trouble...big trouble. Sexual harassment.

"It matters not who wrote it but since you asked and I am in a generous mood, I'll tell you. I took time to write that out just to let you know that I too am a BUSINESS man. Things that happen on my time, stay that way. And that piece of information I just gave you is to insure that all things that happened, and will happen between us, will stay that way. I owe you, Callista, I owe you big."

He stood and walked back over to her desk. This time with a little more authority than the last. "In here, you are the boss. I grant you that. But outside, where the office separates from your normal life, I own you.." Donavan's eyes were locked onto hers. His once perfect smile was replaced by the most serious face ever seen on anyone. He meant business and that was for damned sure.

Slowly he walked around her office, taking in every detail about it. He was very observant. It didn't take him long to make out a mental blueprint of any and everything his eyes touched. His eyes then cast back to her as she sat there.

***

Callie arched her golden brows and met his stare. Determined to get this situation under her control as much as she could anyway. This would teach her to think with her clitty. "Let me make a few things clear. Mr. Bradshaw. If you wish to continue your internship at Tyson, Turner and Tyson, I will arrange for you to be transferred to another associate...without prejudice of course."

She heavily emphasized the term associate. Quite a step down from interning for a full-partner. But anyone who dared to black mail her didn't deserve anything else. "Secondly, NO one owns me." Her eyes raked once more across that tall and built body encased now in the traditional blue linen suit and white shirt. Her face pinked slightly at the memory of exactly what he looked like without that suit. And what it felt like, those hard muscles beneath that dark coffee skin moving over her.

"I am a labor attorney, Mr. Bradshaw. One of the best. I know sexual harassment. My golden rule: don't shit where you eat. Applies here." Pushing the folder back across the desk. "I will speak with Mr. Tyson about that transfer." Her blue eyes met his in challenge. "Assuming of course that you do not feel my presence will constitute an unfriendly work environment." Letting him know that she was in charge, that this was her turf.

"That's all well and good, Miss Monroe. But you fail to realize, no one is blackmailing anyone here. And furthermore, I don't want to intern with anyone else. You fit the bill quite nicely. And yes, I agree, 'owning' was such a strong word to use but it fit the situation quite nicely."

***

His dark brown eyes too k in her entire body, remembering what it looked like beneath that non-descript business suit. How her breasts were the prefect size. Damn she was hot. His body instinctively remembered the feel of her moving with abandon beneath him those many nights ago in Las Vegas. His eyes met back up with hers. Silently acceding that he knew this was her turf and he had no intentions of crossing that line here.

But he had to admit, she had a strong point. "No. No, your presence won't constitute anything like that. In fact, I look forward to working with you in the future. And there's definitely no need to ask Mr. Tyson to look for a transfer. I spoke with him personally to solidify this internship with you." A slightly smug grin played at his lips as he stated that last. Donavan was no one's fool. He knew the game and knew it well.

***

Callie crossed her hand over the closed folder on her desk. Carefully considering her next move. He had trumped her. If she were one of the good ole' boys, she could march right into Tyson's office and plop down on a chair. Laughingly explaining how this 'little' indiscretion had come back to haunt her and request the transfer. Not only would it not be held against her, she would become the office stud.

Except she wasn't one of the good ole' boys. She never would be. Considering her options carefully. Weighing the situation. The document at her finger tips was a carefully worded admission of the consensual nature of the relationship. It definitely covered her ass. That was for sure. Opening the folder, she picked up a pen. "If I sign this, I want to make one thing clear. It was just that once. Nothing will happen for this point on. Is that understood?"

***

With a smirk he slowly nodded his head. His lips sealed from this moment on. He had said all he needed to say. For now. He knew that there was more to come just as well as she did. This was just the beginning. And this would be one hell of an internship deal. Though, this would be one of those times his attitude would get in his way. He thought more about how he would deal with everything from this moment on. "You have my word." Donavan felt he had to at least let her know that he did in some cases agree. But as far as the sex, he would let that be her call, some of the time.

***

Picking up the pen, she signed both copies of the document. Neatly tucking one in her desk drawer, just in case. And passing the other one across the desk to him still in its folder. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Your internship doesn't officially begin until the partners meeting at 9. So until then I'd find some coffee if I were you. I'll make certain that Gena has an assignment for you for this afternoon." Looking him in the eyes once more, she added "I am certain given the circumstances that we can forego the traditional welcoming luncheon."

"Of course," he replied taking the black folder and returning to his seat. "I am sure I will find something around here to keep me occupied for the time being."

Shaking her tightly wound blonde head at that too-cocky smile, she returned to staring at her computer screen. "That will be all. I will see you this afternoon." This day could not get any worse.

Callie rubbed her finely manicured fingernails across her temples. Fuck! This wasn't good. Although she was a powerful labor lawyer she knew the real truth. The double standard was alive and well in corporate America. Especially at Tyson, Turner and Tyson. And that kid was big trouble...for her.

***

Finding this most interesting and comical, he stood as he laughed slightly to himself and headed for the door "So, I will see you at nine then. Wear something revealing." He teased. Without bothering to look back to her, he turned the knob of the door, stepped out and quietly closed the door behind him. His task was done he thought to himself as he looked to the signed paper within the folder.

Walking past Gena as she sat there at her desk. Her almost completely shaven dark head popped up from the document flashing on her computer screen. His attention wasn't drawn for a second. Donavan made his way back to the elevator doors, pressing the down button. The thought of releasing his pinned up tension that had eaten at him this past week was exhilarating. He knew the battle was far from over. Callista Jean Monroe would fight him...and herself...every single moment for the next twelve weeks. But that was easily overcome as he thought about Callie Jean naked beneath him that night her blue eyes glazed with passion her breathe hot against his skin with each tiny moan. The thought of her alone would be enough until then.