I Hate Redheads

I'm Bryan Van Pelt. At the start of this tale I was a 27 year old single guy who was an associate attorney with an intellectual property law firm. I probably had average sexual experiences for someone my age and situation except that I didn't have a romantic relationship that lasted more than six months. I don't really know why that is, although each of my family members and close friends had their own theory about it ranging from me being too intolerant and picky, dating the wrong type of women, being too indecisive, and everything in-between. I thought it was just because I hadn't met the right woman.

While I had never actually dated one, if I was honest with myself I had a predilection for redheads. However, redheads are few and far between, being only about one - two percent of the population in the US. Since I'm definitely heterosexual that means between one half of one percent and one percent of the people I could expect to encounter would be redheads. Then taking into account age, marital status, and physical and personality attractiveness -- well, let's just say the probability of me having met, or in the future meeting, the right redhead was miniscule.

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THE "CLIENT"

The city that I practiced law in has a shortage of funds for the public defender's office meaning that all members of the bar are eligible to be assigned one pro bono criminal case a year. An attorney who was assigned a case could pass it off to another attorney, and of course senior partners in law firms did just that. So it came to be that when Harlan Hartson, one of the name partners of the law firm that I worked for, was assigned a criminal case guess who ended up handling it?

At least Harlan was nice about it when he said "Bryan I've been very impressed with your work. That patent trial that you were second chair on last year came out beautifully, and the copyright trial that you conducted yourself earlier this year was a real winner. I'm going to give you a chance to get even more trial experience by assigning you a pro bono criminal case that the firm has been tasked to handle. I'm looking forward to you doing a great job on it since the Judge who assigned us the case is someone who we appear before often and I'm sure that she will take a personal interest in it."

"Uh...great Mr. Hartson," I responded.

"Oh please call me Harlan," he replied putting his arm around me as he led me out of his office, the first time he'd ever said that. "Get the file from Joyce," his personal paralegal, "and let me know if you have any issues." The way he said the final statement made it clear that the last thing I should do is to ever mention the case to him again unless it was to report a favorable outcome.

My "client" was Juliet Porter. Juliet was a 24 year old High School graduate who was married -- at least for now -- to Bob Porter. Bob was an underachiever as far as a worker was concerned but was very good-looking and ostensibly a real charmer. Apparently he was also a player since Juliet caught him with a lover in their apartment and sent the woman he was fucking to the hospital and even bloodied Bob's nose. The "victim," Constance Danner, was pressing charges, and being unable to make bail Juliet was in the clink.

When I went to see Juliet in jail on a Friday I couldn't fucking believe it! Despite the fact that she had a tattered orange jumpsuit on she was spectacular-looking. She had shoulder length strawberry colored hair and a few freckles on her face, which face -- like Helen of Troy's -- could have launched a thousand ships. While her jumpsuit was about the least attractive clothing possible you could still see that she had a shapely body, and her jail intake form listed her as five six and ⅛, 122 ¾ pounds, for my tastes completely consistent with a nice body.

After I recovered from how blown away I was by her appearance I tried to treat her just like I would a client applying for a patent or trademark registration. Her voice and manner were sultry and provocative, but it was clear that she was also tough as nails -- as if the file photos of the damage she did to Constance Danner (who outweighed her by twenty pounds) and her husband's nose didn't already demonstrate that.

By the end of the interview despite her rough edges I was smitten by Juliet Porter. I was motivated to first get her out of jail on bond, and secondly to get her completely off, or at least a good deal.

That weekend I worked tirelessly getting her a place to stay if she got out on bond and to get an appointment with the assistant DA handling her case. I was successful in getting her a place to stay at a building called the "Community Service Center," which had about a dozen rooms, and board while doing community service work. After talking to the assistant DA on Monday I also got an agreement for Juliet to be released via an unusual experimental procedure in our particular jurisdiction, commonly called a "Vouch For" (its formal name is a Criminal Local Rules Section 215(b) release). In a "Vouch For" a respected member of the community guarantees that the incarcerated person will appear at trial.

The person providing the Vouch For was a guy named Bryan Van Pelt.

Needless to say Juliet was very pleased with getting out of jail the next day, and found the arrangements at the Community Service Center where she would be staying -- and where I had her belongings transferred to after enlisting Bob's cooperation by threatening to file a lawsuit against him for a bogus tort that I made up. Since Juliet had been fired from her job as a receptionist at a construction firm she wouldn't be bringing in any money but at least and room and board.

I worked hard on Juliet's case including by personally footing the bill to sic a private investigator on the "victim," Constance Danner. For one reason or another I made arrangements to meet with Juliet an average of three times a week -- the frequent meetings were necessary since this was a really complicated case wasn't it? probably more complicated than a patent infringement trial for a brain surgery technique, or computer controls for a spacecraft, wouldn't you say?

Putting the PI on Danner worked out beautifully. I found out that she had a conviction for check kiting, and with Bob's help was now running a con on a local bank-- although I think that Bob was an unwitting participant. Anyway, I brought the information to Bob, told him that whether he claimed innocence or not that he would probably be arrested and might even be convicted, and that Danner certainly would be. If they dropped the charges against Juliet and immediately terminated the con I wouldn't turn them in. I gave him 24 hours to make a decision.

Twenty hours later, on a Monday, Bob and Danner dropped the charges and Danner left the state so that she couldn't continue the con. That afternoon I filed for emergency dismissal of Juliet's case and even though the assistant DA didn't particularly like it, she didn't put up much of a fight. When on Tuesday morning we went before the Judge who had assigned Harlan the case I made an impassioned plea that not only should the case be dismissed but that Juliet's arrest record should be expunged. With a sly smile on her face the Judge granted the dismissal and my request, although with the proviso -- which Juliet had agreed to -- that since Juliet contracted to provide 50 hours of community service for every week that she was in the Community Service Center and since she still had 61 hours to go that she would finish out her time there until she completed the 61 hours.

I gave Juliet cab fare and told her to come up to my office once the paperwork for her release was completed (which would take about an hour) and that I'd take her to lunch to celebrate.

When Juliet came up to my office she slyly closed the door and in her silky smooth provocative voice said "You really worked hard for me, Bryan, even paying for the PI. No one else could have gotten me off like you did. Why don't you take me to a resort this weekend and I'll get you off!" With that she unbuttoned her blouse and displayed a pair of what I concluded were C-cup east-west tits with puffy nipples.

Some guys probably don't like east-west tits with puffy nipples; I am DEFINITELY not one of them. I'm sure that my tongue hung out and that I started sweating, but I was at a loss for words. The panic that started fomenting in me as she approached apparently snapped me out of my stupor and with a dry mouth I was able to mumble "I...can't...uh...have...uh...sex with...a client...uh...or...cough...I'll be...uh...disbarred."

"No problem," she chirped, with her blouse still open. "Give me a pen and a piece of paper."

Like an automaton I did.

With her tits jiggling as a result of the exaggerated strokes of her pen on the paper she wrote "You're fired Bryan Van Pelt," dated it and put in the time of day, and then signed it. "Have your secretary log this in," she continued with a shit-eating grin.

I did as I was told. When I came back into my office thankfully she had buttoned her blouse (although the image of those perfect honkers still caromed around in my brain) and with a smile asked "Where are we going for lunch?"

I do remember parts of the lunch with Juliet; I do remember that she was all smiles, had a big appetite, really liked the food, and occasionally put her hand on mine. I assume that we had a pleasant conversation although my mind was foggy the entire time apparently envisioning what it would be like to pork the most alluring woman that I had ever seen in my life, and I could never forget the tongue-filled kiss she planted on me as we parted. "Pick me up at the Community Service Center by 6 p. m. on Friday," she chirped, "and you can tell me what resort we're going to then."

I found it hard to believe but the rest of the week I was possibly the most productive that I have ever been at work, probably because I was on cloud nine thinking about the upcoming weekend. Tuesday-Thursday nights I went to sleep with the sweet dreams of sucking Juliet's puffy nipples and then fucking her brains out, or she mine.

That Friday night through Sunday late afternoon was by far the best time of my life. Juliet was true to her word that she'd "get me off." She giggled as I sucked and manipulated both of her puffy nipples on her east-west tits at the same time, her pussy tasted like almonds (and I love almonds), and my cock fit it perfectly. Somehow between my eight orgasms and her too-many-to-count ones, we found time to actually consume some food, canoe on the resort's lake, dance, and get a couple's massage. She was almost as much fun out of the sack as in it!

As I dropped Juliet off at the Community Service Center Sunday night (she still had two or two and a half more days there) as we kissed I asked "Can we go to dinner and dancing this Friday night and on an outing Saturday?"

"Uh...Bryan I really would love to. This weekend I had a great time in general and the sex was fantastic. However after he begged me I told Bob that I'd give him another chance so I'm moving back in my apartment on a trial basis Wednesday night," Juliet replied, at least having the courtesy to look sad and produce a tear.

My mind was boggled -- after finding him cheating and he pressing charges against her I assumed that she was divorcing her husband and that we had a good chance to be a couple. I was already thinking about marriage and kids since she was the first woman who I ever was truly enamored with. I'm sure that I gave some stupid trite response, but I couldn't remember what it was when I got back in my car and tears started flowing down my cheeks.

That's when I started to dislike redheads; and that's when I learned the lesson to never assume anything (like her divorce and an ongoing relationship with me).

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THE LOCAL TV PEROSNALITY

I was with three of my buddies at a sports bar, about a month after Juliet crushed my soul, watching a college basketball game when during a commercial at halftime a local TV news reporter came on doing a commercial for an upcoming special series. She looked to be six feet tall -- with legs long even for her height -- with a sultry look, an hourglass figure, and tits that loomed like the Grand Tetons. Oh, and she had long curly scarlet hair.

"Who in the fuck is that?" Tom asked, pointing at the screen.

"She's the new hottie special events newscaster for Channel 4; I think her name is Vanessa Vaughn," Clayton snickered.

"God, I'd like to tap that pussy -- she looks like she could fuck you senseless -- or maybe even to death," Bill chimed in.

"But what a way to go," Tom chuckled.

My three buddies continued to trade fantasies about what they would like to do to Vanessa -- or her to them -- for the next five minutes until the game started again. I probably would have eagerly participated in the fantasy-talk except that her scarlet red hair -- although a different shade of red than Juliet's strawberry -- reminded me of the relationship I desperately wanted to put behind me. The college team that the four of us were rooting for won, so we left the bar happy.

It was only about two weeks after I first saw Vanessa on TV that I got a call from a producer at Channel 4 asking me to do an interview about a trademark infringement lawsuit I had brought on behalf of a small local company against a big national tech company. I didn't really want to do it but I felt obligated to talk to management about it before I declined since I was just an associate. I had become Harlan's fair-haired boy after the pro bono case I handled for Juliet -- and for the way I handled one of his difficult clients with a licensing matter -- so I went to him.

Harlan was all excited. "Getting your name in the media is great for business, especially since this is a David vs. Goliath situation," he cackled. "Do whatever they want, Bryan."

Since the title of this work is "I Hate Redheads" you worldly readers already know who Channel 4 sent to do the interview -- Vanessa Vaughn, of course.

With her three inch heels on Vanessa was eye-to-eye with my six foot three inch stature. She was more stunning in person than on TV when she caused my three friends to almost spontaneously cum talking about her. Plus she seemed personable. She had a cameraman and a female producer with her, and she was easy to talk to and had intelligent questions. Harlan was thrilled when she asked me -- and then I him -- if they could take some shots of our lobby, and our distinctive "McAfee, Hartson & Boyd" logo above our glass door entrance, and Harlan made sure to shake the hands of Vanessa, the producer, and the cameraman. Vanessa also asked if I would meet them at my client's modest facility since they wanted to interview the president of my client and he was reluctant to talk about the case unless I was present.

After two hours being around Vanessa I had almost forgotten how badly I felt after Juliet jilted me, and when at the end of our interaction she asked for one of my cards and our hands touched as I handed it to her a lightning bolt went up my spine.

"Do you mind if I call you if I have some more questions?" she asked with a diabolical grin. I found it hard to believe that she was attracted to me, but apparently she was given her look and body language throughout the day.

"Please do; if I'm busy we can talk over lunch at Jaqui's, my treat," I replied, "Jaqui's" being the hottest new restaurant in the city and in the building right next to my office.

"Now I know that I'll have more questions," she smiled as she turned, walked away wiggling her ass, and turned her head around just to make sure that I was enjoying the show.

She called Monday of the next week; I took her to Jaqui's for lunch even though her need for more questions was easily exposed as a pretext, and to dinner and dancing that Saturday.

Vanessa Vaughn turned out to be a woman with big ambitions and big appetites. She ultimately wanted to be a national news anchor, and her sexual appetite was as enormous as her ambition. We started having sex after only the third date, and I had to ramp up my exercise regime form three days a week to six to get in shape to keep up with her.

Vanessa had tear drop D-cup tits with starkly protruding nipples. She absolutely loved titty-fucking, and if I ate her to one orgasm and then fucked her tits she would do anything that I wanted including riding me reverse cowgirl while massaging my testicles, or doing doggy with a butt plug up her ass. Aside from my weekend with Juliet sex with Vanessa was the best of my life by such a wide margin it was like it was in a different solar system.

While when I got to know Vanessa after a five month relationship -- almost the longest of my life up to that point -- she had some quirks that disturbed me (just like I'm sure that I had some that disturbed her) -- regardless I was head-over-heels in love with her.

I was getting to the point where I was thinking about proposing, and actually had asked one of her discrete friends what type of engagement ring she thought that Vanessa might like, when a cataclysmic event occurred.

After a great love-making (at least for me, maybe it was just sex for her) Saturday night, which included two titty-fucks and a doggy fuck with a butt plug up her ass, as Vanessa left my city condo Sunday morning she got pensive. "Bryan; there's something I've been reluctant to tell you because I don't think that you'll like it, and you've been such a wonderful sex partner and friend to me," she started out. Since she didn't use the word "lover," I was already starting to feel queasy "But I've accepted a job as a national correspondent with NBC in New York City and I'll be starting my job there Monday."

I'm sure that she said some more things; I'm sure that I responded in some way; but even ten minutes after her car drove off I couldn't possibly tell you what they were. I was in such a fog that I just moped around Sunday and took off work Monday to have a pity party for myself. It was only when I went into work with a hangdog look on Tuesday and my 55 year old 250 pound no-nonsense mother of four boys secretary Doris made me give up my problem and then figuratively bitched slapped me back to reality that I started to heal. "You're a great catch for any woman and that bitch Scarlet" (which is what she called Vanessa) "is as self-centered as the one in Gone With The Wind. She would have made your life miserable so count your lucky stars that she's out of your life. Now get your head out of your ass and get ready for your deposition tomorrow in the Amazon case," Doris barked.

I didn't think that Doris was right, but I did get my head out of my ass.

Now, I was able to generalize and could say with assurance that I really didn't like redheads. I obviously still hadn't learned my lesson never to assume anything because I never had a heart-to-heart with Vanessa, and just thought that she felt about me like I did about her.

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THE INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS WOMAN

It was about three months after Vanessa departed for New York when I came into contact with another redhead (as an aside I hadn't been laid during that time, which I mostly spent licking my wounds). If my client wasn't working out an international business deal with her I would have run as soon as I saw Anna Karenina (no, not the fictional character in Tolstoy's book although she did kind of looked like the color drawing on a paperback version of the book that I read in college). She was about five eight, 135 pounds, with an athletic build, a pretty face, and -- drum roll -- fairly short copper red hair. I normally don't like short hair, and really disliked red hair at that point, but I had to admit that the short red hair really worked for her.