Midlife Correction Ch. 01

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dr_mabeuse
dr_mabeuse
3,763 Followers

"Hello, Mr. Brandt. So good to talk to you. This is Julia Lynch, Danny Addison's assistant."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Lynch. You probably don't remember me but I met you about three weeks ago when Danny took me through the office. You were on the phone, but I remember you."

Julia searched her memory. "Oh?"

He laughed. "But don't you worry about that. We may have cause to meet again if I let Danny handle my case, and I think I might if there's a chance of you working on it. Now what do you think of that?"

"Well, that's very kind, Mr. Brandt—"

"Call me Ross."

"Ross," she corrected. Now that he mentioned it, there was something vaguely familiar about his voice, though she didn't remember meeting him. "But there's some things I need to know before we can evaluate your complaint and see whether you have a case worth prosecuting."

"Of course you do. Jerry Egan here can give you the legal details. He's my local attorney, not a hot shot patent lawyer like you people. But I can give you the big picture. What do you need to know?"

Forty minutes later she had a pretty good idea of what was going on with Pacific Holistics' complaint against Popular Products. Ross Brandt manufactured all-natural performance-enhancing supplements for men, and while he couldn't patent any of the ingredients, he'd copyrighted the formula, and now he thought Popular Products had stolen it and was selling an identical product for less, and not only that, but was ripping off his name, selling theirs not as Brandt'sUltimate Man Can-Do but as their ownAmazing Male Man-Do.

Julia had seen the ads for both on late-night TV and figured they were both snake-oil but also knew herbal supplements were big business that Danny would want a piece of. She was leery of the legal validity of Brandt's case but would leave that to Danny to figure out. If nothing else, Danny could make enough trouble for Brandt's competitor to have them settle out of court for a nice sum, and a million or two for a couple days' work was the kind of patent law he liked. No doubt Mr. Ross Brandt would soon be coming to town to confer, and given the rich, cultured tone of his voice, that might not be a bad thing.

And when did you start getting interested in men again? Julia asked herself as she rang off and put away her notes.

Her eyes went to the closet.

She stretched and went to her bedroom door. She leaned out into the hallway and called, "Beth? I'm going to take a bubble bath, in case anyone calls."

"Okay, mom."

She picked up her terrycloth robe and a change of underwear, then reached in the closet and got the crop, hid it in her arms and hurried into the bathroom. She locked the door and put her things down, then started the bath, running the water hot, and threw in a handful of salts.

As the tub filled, she undressed and looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad for forty four and two kids. She could still turn heads. God bless good genes and mornings at the gym.

Standing in the nude, she picked up the crop and looked at it, ran it through her hands, then ran the end across her lips. The leather smelled sharp and masculine.

What was it about this damned whip? She traced the end down between her breasts and over her stomach, watching herself in the mirror. The sight almost gave her chills, the vision of the black leather against her pale skin. The end of the crop touched the puff of dark hair over her mound and she did feel chills, the skin on her arms blossoming into a field of goose bumps. God, it was so wicked! She refused to even let herself think the things she wanted to think.

She turned quickly and stepped into the tub and lowered herself into the hot water, sighing as it embraced her. She still held the whip, but she let it go now as the water relaxed her, letting it fall on the rug by the side of the tub. She liked her baths deathly hot so they stung her skin. Stung her as if she were being whipped¼

She smiled. She was getting positively perverse.

The steaming water made her sweat but it loosened her muscles deliciously, taking her to a place of languid indifference. She leaned her head back against a rolled towel and closed her eyes, and saw again the display case at Miles's shop—the cuffs and collars and floggers, and Miles Bernard himself. What kind of people would she meet if she became a regular there? What would he think of her if she'd bought that bull whip for $1250?

She stayed in the tub until her fingertips were wrinkled and the water lost its sting, then she started to wash amidst the floes of ruined bubbles. She stood and took her razor to her legs, and then, overcome by a sudden urge, she began to shave her pubic mound as well, lathering herself up and guiding the razor through the resisting hair, leaving nothing but a small patch like she'd glimpsed once on an adult internet site.

It took her two razors to do it and when she was done she was red and sore but she felt terribly fresh and perverse—as exposed and obscene as a newborn. She looked at herself in the mirror, thrilled to the point of embarrassment, her face almost as red as her freshly-shaved mound. Her pubic area looked like a young girl's, naked and vulnerable, the top of her slit visible.

Oh my god! What's wrong with you, Julia? she thought. One part of her was scandalized and ashamed. Another part was thrilled and excited. She knew the girls shaved, but she was their mother and she was supposed to be sexless, beyond such concerns. Her body was not for pleasure anymore, not for touching, and yet here she was, standing in the tub, the slit of her vagina showing, shaved and exposed.

She was suddenly aware of every wisp of air that moved against her skin, and when she wrapped a towel around her, the friction of the harsh terry cloth was devastatingly erotic.

Julia was wet. She was undeniably aroused. She picked up the whip and slid it over her mound, felt the kiss of the smooth leather against her skin and almost swooned. It was so rude, so cruel and heartless. It was just what she wanted. She didn't know how she was going to get this, but it was what she wanted and wanted badly.

She rubbed herself with the whip till she thought she couldn't stand it anymore, then carefully cleaned out the tub and hid her razors in the trash. She gathered up her things. Feigning tiredness, she went to bed early, and in the darkness of her room and safe under her blankets for the first time in years she masturbated out of excitement, rubbing the whip against her clitoris, fucking it, imagining strong men holding her down and doing things to her, unspeakable, horrible, deliciously wonderful things.

Chapter Two

The offices of Baker, Sprewell were on the thirty-ninth floor of a building on Michigan Avenue, and from her desk, Julia could see part of Grant Park and downtown and Burnham harbor, deserted now except for a few boats whose owners were too rich or too lazy to move them before the ice set in. When she arrived there at 7:30 AM the next morning, there was already a note on her desk from Danny asking to see her about the Brandt case. That was strange. Normally Danny didn't even come in till ten-thirty or eleven.

She put down her cup of coffee, gathered up her notes and walked down to Danny's office where she found Danny and Allie Valente, the new hire fresh out of law school. Allie was thin, blonde, and gorgeous, and there were some nasty rumors as to how she'd gotten her job. Nothing that Julia believed, but she and Allie had never really hit it off, and it was just as well Allie usually worked with Steve Cortez in intellectual properties.

"Morning, Julia," Danny said. "Come on in and grab a chair. You know Allie Valente, right?"

"Of course. Nice to see you, Allie."

The blonde, leaning against the self by the window, just nodded to her.

"So," Danny said, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. "What can you tell us about Ross Brandt and Pacific Holistics?"

Julia put on her glasses and began reading through her notes, quickly sketching out the salient points of the case while Danny scribbled some things down on his own legal pad. Briefly she ran through the fact that Brandt's formula was copyrighted but not patented, used all off-the-shelf materials, was being copied by Popular Products who had also copied Brandt's name, and that Popular hadn't responded to Brandt's cease-and-desist letter.

Danny slapped down his pen and sat back in his chair with a big grin. "Now pay attention, Allie, and see how this business is run. Baker and Sprewell is about to land a big one!"

Turning to Julia, he said, "What's Brandt's lawyer's name? I want to talk to him. Then I want you to find me some good analytical lab that can give me a run down on what's in this snake oil of his. I'm not so interested in what's in it as I am in how easy it is to analyze. If they can show they just stumbled across his formula, that's one thing. If we can show that they went out looking to rip him off, that's another. understand? What's it called again?"

"Ultimate Man Can-Do."

He laughed sharply. "Great! Just great! What, does it make your jalona bigger? Is it one of those things?"

"I really don't know, Danny," Julia said.

"No matter. People will buy anything. It doesn't matter. What matters is that Ross Brandt is some kind of marketing genius. You know what he's is worth, Julia? You know what Pacific Holistics is worth?"

"Danny—" Allie tried to interrupt him but he ignored her.

"Two hundred million dollars. Two hundred million dollars. He's made two hundred million selling that snake oil and a few other products. He's part of something called Pan-PH Holdings. He owns it all. He's loaded to the fucking gills!"

"Danny, she really doesn't have to know this, does she?"

He looked at her. "Relax, Allie. Julia's my gal Friday. I have no secrets from her."

"So you're going to take the case, Danny?" Julia asked.

"Yes. Hell yes. I'd take it if it had merit or not. Brandt's taking his business to his family lawyer out there in California and that man doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't even have a patent lawyer protecting his stuff. I want to get him in here as soon as possible for the royal treatment. I want a piece of what he's got! I want a full court press on him. I want him signed up as a client.

"And here's something else." He leaned forward and aimed his pen at Julia. "He's taken a shine to you. He mentioned you. Noticed you when I showed him around the office a few weeks ago and asked about you. I want you working on this, Julia. Going to dinner with us, talking him up, things like that. Allie's going to be in on it too. Give it a little glam. I want you to work with her and show her how we do things over here."

Allie was watching her warily. She looked like she already had her own ideas of how things were done.

"Okay, Danny."

"There's going to be a meeting on this at 10:30. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Go on and Power Point up a sheet or two on the case and get to work on finding that lab."

As they walked out, Allie said to her, "Why don't you let me handle this presentation, Julia? Just give me the details and I can get the slides together while you track down that lab."

Julia knew when she was being manipulated.

"That would look kind of odd, Allie. In this department this case overviews are handled by staff. Lawyers don't give presentations of this low level material. But still, if you really want to, that would be fine with me and I could get on to some more productive work."

She stood there, smiling sweetly at the younger woman

"I see. No, that's all right then. You can handle it. But look, we're going to be working together on this, and I don't want to blow it. You scratch my back and I scratch yours, Julia, you know what I mean?"

"Allie, I'm fully professional."

"Yes, yes. I'm sure you are. But just what do you know about this Ross Brandt?"

"Not all that much at this point. I spoke to him on the phone, but that was about the case. It wasn't personal."

"You don't remember when he visited the office here?"

"No. Of course not. Why?"

Allie pulled at her lower lip. "No reason. Danny seems to think you made quite an impression on him, that's all. Some sort of dirty old man thing, I suppose."

Julia glared at her but Allie was looking out the window, lost in thought.

"Allie, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to work on this presentation. You want to call some analytical labs?"

"No, no. That's all right. You can take care of it. I've got some research to do, Julia. I'll see you at the meeting."

And with that she took off.

This was just what Julia didn't need, a job babysitting for a woman who was sworn to make her a rival, and this business with Ross Brandt was disturbing. What was his interest in her? She didn't know the man

* * * * *

Two days later she was back at Miles Bernard's shop, and when she walked in, she was disappointed to see the girl Inga behind the counter.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Oh. Isn't the owner here? Mr. Bernard?"

"He should be back in a bit. Meanwhile, is there something I can help you with?"

Last time she was here she didn't think she could ask a man to show her a whip. Now she didn't think she could ask Inga to show her what she wanted to see, so she went to the jewelry counter as if something had caught her eye.

"Those opal earrings. May I see them?"

Inga fit her name. A zaftig, Swedish-looking blonde dressed all in black with a string of pearls around her neck.

"Certainly. I see you're not afraid of bad luck?"

"From opals? Certainly not."

Inga unlocked the case and took out the earrings and set them down on a black velvet pad. They were stunning, the fiery opals sharing the setting with pieces of sedate jasper. Julia admired them but they were a bit too flashy for her, and in any case she hadn't come here to buy earrings. She looked at the other earrings in the case and steeled her nerve.

"Well, they're nice, but what I really came for is a pair of leather cuffs." Julia said it smoothly enough, strolling over to the other side of the shop. Her voice never cracked, never wavered. Inside, her stomach was all butterflies.

Inga nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world, put the earrings away and locked the case, then walked around to other side of the shop—the left hand side.

"Which did you have in mind?"

Julia looked at them hungrily. She wanted to appear as if she were an old hand at this, as if she'd already decided on some, but she didn't know whether to choose the ones with snaps or buckles or Velcro, large padded ones or simple leather ones. The price tags were discreetly turned over, but that alone made her nervous. They didn't look cheap.

"Um, maybe you could help me with this?" she asked.

"Sure." Inga smiled. "What are you looking for? Suspension cuffs? Heavy duty? Locking? Discipline? Or just bondage?"

"Suspension?"

"Are you going to be hanging anyone from them?"

"Oh. No, well..." Her lie was ready on her lips, her story that they were a birthday present. She knew it was lame and she'd sworn not to use it, but she faced this sudden rush of embarrassment thinking of herself hanging from some dungeon hook.

The door opened and Miles came in, carrying a briefcase, a stocking cap on his head. he looked at Julia and smiled, recognizing her instantly.

"Good to see you again," he said. "Is Inga helping you? More birthday presents?" He raised his eyebrows knowingly and walked into the back.

Inga looked at her soberly. "Did you want to see Mr. Bernard?"

Julia felt awkward. "Well, yes. If you don't mind. Not that you haven't been most helpful."

"No problem." Inga smiled and walked away as Miles came out of the back, taking off his stocking cap. He was smiling, glad to see her.

"Well! How did the birthday gift turn out? Did she like it?"

"Actually I haven't given it to her yet. the party's not till next week."

"Ah. I see. So you're buying her something else as well?"

"No. Quite honestly, this is for me. I want to buy a pair of cuffs." Julia was determined not to be intimidated. She would tell the truth. Tell the truth and you had nothing to be afraid of. That's what she believed.

His eyebrows went up.

"Oh? Is that right. Any special kind?"

"I'm not sure. What kinds are there?"

"Well, there's suspension, discipline, bondage... These are for you, or for a partner?"

"They're for me. But does it matter?"

"Well, no. I suppose not. Let's see what we have." He moved to the counter.

"Should I get buckle or snap or Velcro?" she asked, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

"You're going to be putting these on yourself?"

"Yes."

"You're aware of the dangers of autorestraint, I take it?"

She looked at him. "Autorestraint?"

"People who put themselves into bondage. Alone. The things that can happen."

"Oh," she said. "No. I just want to wear them."

"Mmm. Well, Velcro's easiest. Buckles look the best, and they lock, of course. People who are...into it like to lock them on, but if you're working alone..."

He reached into the case and brought out a pair of broad leather cuffs, each had three sturdy silver rings and two small straps with buckles on them, and little locks going through a hasp between the straps. Tiny silver keys were attached with nylon cords The leather was stitched, and they were lined with black satin, beautifully made. Before he put them on the counter he discreetly ripped the price tag off, but Julia saw how much they were: $165.00.

"These are fifty dollars," he said.

Julia ignored the feelings of self-consciousness and put one on her left wrist, threading the straps through the buckles. She tightened it up and experienced a thrill something like when Ryan first used to touch her. The cuffs were exquisite, heavier than she'd expected, and solid. She admired the care that went into their manufacture, the supple gloss of the leather, the fineness of the stitching. She felt owned, possessed and protected, and the silence between her and Miles Bernard became something almost solid and viscous as he stared down at the black leather enclosing her wrist.

"I like these," she said. "They look nice."

"Yes. They look very nice. You don't want to see the Velcro?"

"No. I don't think so."

"I agree. These are the ones you want."

They both stood there, looking at the cuff on her wrist.

"The straps are too big," he said at last. He slipped his finger between the cuff and the inside of her wrist to show her. "I'll have to add some more holes for you, your wrists are so small."

His finger was warm against her wrist, pressing at her right against her pulse point, and she throbbed where he touched her. She kept her eyes down, not daring to look at him, suddenly strangely shy. She was aware of the absence of her wedding ring and she wondered whether he noticed it.

He withdrew his finger. His touch had been innocent enough, but Julia wanted his finger back.

He turned around, looking for something on the counter behind him, and Julia looked at him, the way his jacket stretched tight across his broad shoulders and then fell over his lean hips. He needed a haircut. His black hair, just dusted with gray, was starting to curl endearingly over his collar, like ivy. What kind of name was Miles Bernard? French? He looked French, like a taller Napoleon. His mouth was sensitive, sensual.

He turned back with a pad of paper and a tape measure.

"I can add the holes right here. Take a few minutes if you can wait."

She laughed self-consciously. "Oh, I can't. I have to pick up my daughters."

"Your daughters?"

"Yes, I have two. Fifteen and seventeen."

He looked confused. So he had noticed her lack of a ring.

dr_mabeuse
dr_mabeuse
3,763 Followers