Idle Hands

"I'm going to bed now. I've got court early tomorrow, so I'll be gone when you wake up. Sweet dreams."

*****

As Rachel lay sleeping, Althea pondered the evening's events.

She may have made a mistake, she admitted, in attempting to draw in Sarah so soon. It would be many days, perhaps weeks, until she had Rachel's body chemistry changed sufficiently so that her secretions reached the aphrodisiacal potency of one of the succubi. It was one of the dangers of becoming too closely associated with a succubus. Althea's kind had been using such methods to lure human men and women into their arms for millennia. Rachel's orgasm had helped her regain some power, but it would take dozens, if not hundreds of such orgasms for her to regain her mental and spiritual strength.

~Well, what's done is done,~ she sighed. The worst that would happen would be there would be no change in Sarah at all. She might experience a small increase in her sex drive. But as young and attractive as she was, she would probably not even notice.

~I need a man,~ she decided. ~A strong, horny man who can give me his seed, over and over again. The strength of men's semen was the secret of the succubi's power. As long as they had access to a virile man, the life-giving potency of his come fed the succubi. It gave them longevity which approached immortality, as well as a host of psychic and physical powers.

Althea smiled, thinking of the men she might be able to draw on. ~Joshua, first.~ The passion-laden memories which Rachel had unwittingly shared with her this evening made her eager to meet Rachel's former husband. ~And if not him, there are always others.~

Smiling inwardly, Althea waited for what the morning would bring.

*****

Rachel woke up to her alarm at four thirty the next morning. She looked out the window to a pitch-black sky, but a soft breeze stirred the curtains. Despite the hellishly early hour, she felt refreshed and invigorated. After a quick shower, she got dressed for court, using the clothes which she had set out the night before.

Standing in front of her vanity in her bedroom, she applied lipstick and a small, tasteful amount of cosmetics and jewelry. She examined her image critically, and nodded in satisfaction. The burgundy blouse was attractive without seeming overdone, and the black jacket and matching skirt were solidly professional. She looked exactly like what she was: a successful attorney in one of Chicago's top law firms.

She cocked an eye at her reflection as she brushed her coal-black hair. Thick and lustrous, it seemed too short, barely reaching her shoulders. Maybe I should grow it out again. Josh always liked it long. I don't have to prove anything to anyone at the firm these days. No sense in trying to look like a man. They all know I've got a set of tits under the blouse.

She was out the door by five thirty. Due to the early hour, traffic was practically non-existent, and she was walking in the door to her office in the Sears (never, ever the Willis) Tower in plenty of time for her early meeting. The office was in a corner on the seventy-eighth floor, so high she nearly got vertigo when she looked out. To the east, she could see small pleasure-boats already sailing out onto Lake Michigan, doubtless containing happy young people taking advantage of the unseasonably warm day to enjoy an early start to the weekend.

Jeremy came in the open door and handed her a large coffee and a bagel before she could sit down.

"I've got you trained well," she remarked with a smile, taking a large sip of the heavily-sweetened drink.

"And now you'll have to go to the trouble of training a new intern once I leave," the young man said, grinning crookedly. He took a drink from a bottle of diet soda he held in his other hand.

Rachel looked at it and shuddered. "I can't understand how you can drink that horrible stuff so early in the morning."

Jeremy shrugged. "I never could stand coffee. And I need something to wake me up. I think I might be in the wrong profession. I could be working in a nice calm call-center for a credit card company. In at nine, out at five. Sleep until seven o'clock every day. Sounds like heaven to me."

She laughed, the sound echoing through the nearly-empty office. "Yes, and go gradually insane." She shook a finger at him. "I know you too well. You're too ambitious to spend the rest of your life as a phone drone." She took a bite of her bagel, savoring the toasted heat and the thick cream cheese Jeremy had spread on it for her. All of her senses seemed alive this morning, her wits sharp and keen.

I'm happy, she thought suddenly. Despite the early hour and the prospect of a long, uphill battle against a group of lawyers who could smell weakness like a shark could smell blood in the water, she was alive with good cheer. The thought saddened her paradoxically. It had been too long since she had felt like this. When was it, she thought, that the joy of life went away? When she became content with the ephemeral pleasures of the business world over the needs of the body, the desires of the flesh?

Forcing the thought aside, she gathered her laptop and her files in her hands. "All right, Mr. Edwards," she said. "Let's go to the boardroom for one last skull session with the rest of the crew before we take these bastards down."

*****

Later that afternoon, Alex tapped on the door to Sarah's bedroom. She looked up and smiled happily from her seat at her computer. "Hey, you're back! No rehearsal today?"

He shook his head. "Nah. The director gave us a night off. I have to be out there tomorrow afternoon, though."

Sarah nodded, clicking her mouse. On the desk beside her, the printer whirred, disgorging another sheet of paper.

"So what are you up to?" he asked.

"Hunting for recipes," she said. "I'm tired of the same-old same-old. And since Mom showed some signs of cracking last night, I'm going to keep up the pressure."

Alex flopped onto her bed, ignoring her disapproving look as he rumpled the sheets. "Do you really think she's coming around, Sarah? Until last night, trying to reason with her was like trying to drill through a brick wall with a bowl of pudding."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she spun her chair to face him. "Who knows? But at least she listened to you. How many times has she just tuned you out when you talked about the theater? This time she paid attention. Hell, Alex, she actually said she'd come to watch you in Othello. That's got to count for something."

"Maybe," Alex sighed. He ran his hands through his dark brown hair. "Anyway, I've made up my mind. Mom's been willing to foot the bill for my schooling at COD. And she's told me she'd do the same if I ever got accepted to a school she approved of. I'm putting my foot down. I'm going to apply to acting schools here in Chicago. If she won't help, I'm moving out. I've put out some feelers. I can get an apartment with some guys I know. It'll be hard, trying to juggle acting classes and work. But this is what I want to do with my life. If I wait any longer, it'll be too late."

Sarah stared at her brother in surprise. He had been complaining about their mother to her for months, but she had never really thought Alex would carry through with his muttered threats. For the first time, he was doing something about it.

"You can do it," she encouraged him. "Lord knows you're smart enough, when you put your mind to it. And you've got the looks, too." Alex would never be a Hollywood superstar, Sarah thought. He didn't have the pretty-boy features everyone seemed to be looking for. His face was too strong, his nose too big. What he did have, though, was the type of rough-hewn attraction that aged well, like Paul Newman or Harrison Ford.

She eyed his recumbent form appreciatively. Long, lean, narrow-hipped and broad-shouldered, she thought he would be able to fill any role, from cowboy to army officer to the comic relief in a romantic drama. His t-shirt had pulled out of his jeans, and she could see a strip of his flat stomach, and the brown fuzz where his navel hair led down to his groin.

She shifted in her office chair. She had woken up horny, and with no boyfriend, she had been forced to provide her own relief. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, she found herself looking at her older brother with a decidedly unsisterly gaze. She wondered what he looked like naked. Or even better, what he looked like naked and aroused. With them each having their own private bathrooms, it had been literally years since they had seen each other nude.

God, I need to get laid. When you start to think about your brother, you know it's been too long since you've had a cock in your pussy.

Or your mouth.

"What about you?" Alex asked. "Are you ready to cut the strings, too?"

"Maybe," she admitted slowly, tearing her mind away from the enticing thought of her sexy older sibling. She didn't want to hurt her mother by delivering an ultimatum. But Rachel's insistence that they follow the same path she did was infuriating. "I wish Daddy was around. He might be able to talk sense to her."

"Or he might not," Alex said. "Remember how much they used to fight before Dad moved out?"

"True," she admitted sadly. "They get along better divorced than they did the last couple years before they split up. Except for last Christmas." She sighed. "You know, if we both went to Mom and told her that we were thinking about moving out, it might convince her to let us do what we want with our lives. She'd be all alone in this big, empty house, with no one to blame but herself."

Alex sat up, his blue eyes troubled. "Emotional blackmail? I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"Well, it's either that, or go your route. How long would it take me to become a chef and have a restaurant of my own if I have to go to culinary school part-time? There are people paying off student loans who are in their thirties, Alex. I don't want to be in their shoes just because Mom was too damn stubborn to let us choose our own careers.

He stood up and chuckled. "That's hard-core, Sis. You'd almost think your mother was some sort of hard-ass attorney or something. You play for keeps."

"Hah," Sarah said. "Haven't you ever seen those reality shows where they go into some poor sap's restaurant and spend an entire episode insulting him? The restaurant biz ain't for pansies, Alex.

"Now go on downstairs. I thawed out some steaks this morning and I have them soaking in marinade. As soon as Mom calls to tell us she's on the way home you can put them on the grill. I'm going to whip up some side dishes and we'll have ourselves one hell of a supper tonight.

"And don't touch the bacon!" she shouted after him as he clattered down the stairs. "That's for the brussel sprouts!"

*****

Rachel hung her suit jacket on the back of her chair and sat at her desk in her office. She and her team had just returned from the courthouse, and she was entering her notes about the day's proceedings into her computer for review over the weekend.

Nothing surprising had happened that day in court. After her star witness' stunning turn on the stand the day before, she had wrapped up her side of the case early in the afternoon. The judge had decided to put off hearing the defense side until after the weekend. That was fine as far as Rachel was concerned. She was an old hand at reading lawyers and juries. Unless she screwed up badly in the next few days, she had the case won. The only question now was how big the punitive damages were going to be. The cross-examinations from the defense team had taken on an almost perfunctory tone, and the jury was firmly in her hand. She smiled to herself as she remembered the looks of undisguised loathing they had given the Antioch Chemical executives who had appeared in court.

Meanwhile, her team had been quietly jubilant during the lunch break. She had had to caution some of the plaintiffs not to celebrate too early. Class-action lawsuits were always tricky. And companies like Antioch had dozens of tricks to avoid payment. Still, she would rather be in her shoes than the defense team's.

Or out of them, she thought, slipping off her heels with a sigh. She wiggled her toes in satisfaction as she looked over the notes she had made for her closing statement. Unless she was wrong, the defense would wrap up their side of the case within one or two days. She would probably be called upon to make her final argument Tuesday afternoon.

Her brows creased in a frown as she looked over her notes. A few days ago, she had liked the tone they set; calm, logical, precise, flowing from one conclusion to the next in an elegant chain of thought. Now, they seemed insufficient.

There's no emotion here, she thought. No passion. These bastards polluted a stretch of river twenty miles long. Where is the outrage? She drummed her fingers on the polished wood of her desk, then opened a new document on her laptop. In a few seconds the sound of her fingers on the keyboard filled the room.

She was unaware of how much time had passed until she heard her name being called. "Ms. Wainwright?"

She blinked and looked up from the screen to where her intern was standing in the half-open doorway. "Jeremy. I'm sorry. Come on in. I didn't hear you." She looked out the window, where long shadows were beginning to stretch across the city. "How late is it?"

"After five," he said, entering the office. "Everyone is taking off for the day. I was wondering if you wanted to come down for that drink we talked about yesterday evening."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I had a late night last night, what with nearly running a man over and having to talk to the police. I'd like to get home early for a change. And one drink can turn into two or three once you get a bunch of lawyers and paralegals into a bar. Or four." She watched his face fall with disappointment. "But there's no reason we can't talk for a few minutes before you go down and join your friends. Have a seat." She gestured to the leather chair sitting across from her desk. "What are your plans for the summer?"

Jeremy smiled and loosened his tie as he sat. "Oh, I'll probably help my dad out with his landscaping business," he said. "It's down in Frankfort," he continued, naming one of the southern suburbs. "I've been doing it every summer since I was fifteen. He pays me the same as the rest of the workers, and it gets me outside. After a school year with nothing but books for company, it's nice to be outdoors.

"After that, one last year at law school at UIC before I have to take the bar exam." Like every law student she had ever met, his voice was nervous when he spoke about that final hurdle.

"You'll do fine, Jeremy," she said. "You've busted your ass on this case for the last four months. We wouldn't be where we are without your help. Once you graduate, drop me an e-mail. I'd be happy to write you a letter of recommendation when you start applying for jobs."

He smiled at her gratefully. "I was going to ask you," he said. "But I wasn't sure how to bring the subject up."

"Don't be afraid to climb those golden stairs, kid," she advised. "In the corporate world, no one is going to give you anything. You have to ask for it."

He nodded, and a silence fell over the office.

Rachel shifted in her chair. Throughout the day a feeling had been growing inside her. Almost subliminal at first, it now made itself known. She looked at the young man in front of her, clean-cut and wholesome, bright-eyed and good-looking, filled with youthful energy, and felt a spark of desire ignite deep within her belly.

~You want him.~ a quiet voice whispered. ~Why not give him a suitable parting gift?~

Deliberately, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, drawing his gaze to her. Catching Jeremy's eyes with her own, she slowly unfastened the top button on her blouse. She fingered the fabric, her fingers running up and down the placket. They stopped when they encountered the next button, and she held her hand there, fingering the small disc of plastic. She wet her lips with her tongue.

"You know," she said conversationally, "that I'm divorced."

Jeremy nodded. She stood and walked around the desk. Her hips swayed lazily, falling into an ancient rhythm of seduction. Jeremy started to rise, but she laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into his chair.

"And I'm so horny these days," she sighed as she circled behind him, one hand trailing along the muscles of his back. Nice and strong, good. "I had to get myself off in the bathtub last night with my hands." Part of her mind was aghast, unable to believe what she was saying. Another part reveled in it, giving in to passion. She raised her eyebrows. "It's customary," she said, "to give a parting intern a gift. A sign of appreciation for all the hard work he or she has done.

"I had Madeline buy you a good bottle of scotch. After all, what does one get a colleague as a gift when they don't really know the person who they're buying the gift for? Quality alcohol is a nice, safe purchase.

"But I don't feel like being safe right now." She stopped in font of him and perched on the edge of her desk. She crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to hike up. She smiled as she saw his eyes focus on the white skin of her thighs. She undid another button, allowing her blouse to fall further open, showing a slice of her lace-covered breasts. She glanced at his lap, smiling as she saw the tented cloth of his slacks, proof of his aroused state.

"Would you mind if I gave you a different sort of farewell gift, Jeremy?"

Her intern looked around the room, as if he was trying to find a hidden film crew. He wet his lips and swallowed nervously. "This is a joke, right? Or is it some sort of test? Or a trap? I tell you that I want to make love to you, and you pull the recommendation? Or is it that asshole Chad? I told him once I thought you were attractive, and he's been making remarks for weeks about how I have a thing for MILFs. Did he tell you?"

She smiled and nodded. "It's a test, yes." She undid another button. The blouse now gaped wide. She swallowed through a throat gone dry with lust. "The test is whether I can make you come in my mouth, or whether you last long enough to fuck me. Don't worry," she added, taking in his panicked look. She nodded at the frosted glass that looked towards the office. "No one can see us. Though I admit," she said with a sultry smirk, "that scenario does have its own appeal."

As he stared at her in slack-jawed disbelief, she fell to her knees in front of him. Before he could do more than gasp a voiceless protest, her hands were running down his calves. She pulled off his shoes while she ran her face up his cloth-covered legs, homing in unerringly on his groin. She reached his shaft even as she tossed the shoes to one side, her cheek rubbing on it through his slacks. "So hard," she whispered. She turned her head so she could breathe hot air on it, and smiled as it jerked. She opened her lips wide and mouthed his cock through his slacks, humming with pleasure. She could almost feel the blood pulsing through it, the powerful force of life-creating come being generated in his balls.

She looked up at Jeremy through her lashes, her hands stroking his thighs. "Not how you imagined your last meeting with me, is it, honey? Or maybe it is?" she continued as she unbuckled his belt and loosened his pants. "Raise up," she ordered, and pulled his pants and boxers down to his ankles, and then completely off, leaving him naked from the waist down. "Did you fantasize about me, Jeremy, back in your apartment? Wonder if you could ever get the ball-busting lawyer in the sack?"