Philanthropy Pt. 03

"A favourite of mine is gross incompetency in the practice of the profession or violation of the ethics of the profession. The two main reasons that I have seen in my many years are dipping into client funds. It's one of the worst things a lawyer can do. An attorney must maintain client funds in a trust account segregated from his/her own money. Apparently, some attorneys think no one will ever know if they use a little client money to bridge their cash flow issues. A lot of attorneys probably get away with it, but I have seen several situations where things did not work out the way the lawyer thought it would and they were not able to get the client funds back in their trust account before they got found out.

"The other thing I have seen happen is when a lawyer lets their practice get away from him or her and they don't take care of their business then start avoiding client inquiries because they haven't done what they are supposed to, and they don't have a good answer. Things snowball on them and clients start complaining and the lawyer sticks their head in the sand and avoids their problems and ends up getting disbarred over what was probably only a minor issue to begin with."

Imani spoke up. "The Bailey Disbarment will likely work as a good example."

Phil nodded. "Are you familiar with that, Peter?"

I shook my head.

"You probably are a little. Bailey is none other than F. Lee Bailey, OJ Simpson's lawyer. In 2001, he was disbarred in the state of Florida, with reciprocal disbarment in Massachusetts in 2003. The Florida disbarment was the result of his handling of shares in a pharmaceutical company named Biochem Pharma during his representation of marijuana dealer Claude DuBoc. Bailey had transferred a large portion of DuBoc's assets into his own accounts.

"The stock, worth about $5.9 million, was supposed to be included in the forfeiture of assets that DuBoc made as part of a plea bargain. It had been held by Bailey because it would be sold immediately if it came into government possession, but it was expected to rise dramatically in value. Bailey later refused to turn it over, saying that it was payment of his legal fees and not part of DuBoc's asset forfeiture. In addition, Bailey said that the stock was collateral for loans that he had received, and so could not be sold until the loans were repaid. These arguments were rejected by the court; the stock rose in value to about $20 million, and Bailey then argued that, if he turned over the stock so that it could be sold, he was entitled to keep the difference between what it was valued at when he received it and its new, higher price. After Bailey was imprisoned for six weeks in 1996 for contempt of court, his brother raised the money that enabled Bailey to turn the stock over to the government, and he was released. He was later found guilty of seven counts of attorney misconduct by the Florida Supreme Court, and in 2001 he was disbarred. Massachusetts disbarred Bailey two years later."

"I see," I replied. Not really. I had stopped listening a long time ago. Fucking lawyers and their lawyer talk. I was stifling a yawn.

Imani spoke. "Stay focused, Peter. This is kind of important. The ICC is looking for this type of activity from the Carvers. Disbarring them will lower their value to the syndicate and the cartel. And exposes their financial records. And it opens the door just enough to start being able to pressure them."

I looked at her and my eyes were drawn to her succulent lips. They gleamed in the boardroom lights. "I understand. But none of that has anything to do with me."

Phil shifted in his seat and then glanced at his watch. "That's true. But we need to be able to continue looking into their financial transactions. The ICC is fairly confident they will soon be successful. Your history of fucking with people financially..." He held up his hand to stall my protest and continued. "...may undo that effort. We are asking you to wait."

"I'm not saying I've ever done anything remotely like what you think, but how long would someone hypothetically, imagining doing something, you know, pretending, heh, before they could say, hypothetically do something." I thought I got that out rather well.

"Jesus, Peter," muttered Amber.

"That's what the ICC will speak about. This is going to be a rather boring conversation, I'm afraid. Please bear with us, is that alright?"

I nodded, groaned internally, and the phone rang.

I won't bore you with the details. Thank me later. It was a lot of blah, blah, blah. In the end, I agreed to not do anything because I said I wasn't doing anything anyway. What did interest me was the ICC said they had no concrete evidence. Hypothetically speaking, say I was the kind of guy who could wreck people financially, and then was asked to not do anything because someone else was, and then you heard from them that they had nothing so far? How would you react?

I shook hands with Phil after the call ended and he left with his laptop. Imani thanked me and left with Amber, and Shanti and I were escorted back outside to our car. I started up the Hyundai and pulled into traffic and got on the highway heading west to my condo.

Shanti looked at me for a long moment. "Is all that true?"

"Is what true?" I was distracted by some asshole doing the actual speed limit in front of me. I roared past and yelled at him. "Learn to drive, you fuck!"

"Road rage."

"Canadians are polite as hell but put them behind the wheel of a car? Watch out!"

"Is it true?"

I drove for a bit. I really did not like this exposure. Phil revealed aspects of me that no one knew about. He really pissed me off but, in the boardroom, I recognised what he was doing. He was warning me. I was absolutely on someone's radar. I had become a person of interest.

Which had me thinking about the Person of Interest television show.

Two of the women in that show were really fucking hot. First was the character Root, played by Amy Acker. And the second was Sameen Shaw, played by Sarah Shahi. Two highly fuckable women. It was also a terrific show and didn't get nearly enough attention. I should introduce Shanti to that show...

"You have that faraway look again, which I now recognise as you are thinking something dirty. I used to think you were actually thinking something useful. Now I know it's something useless. Is it true?"

I nodded my head and drove in silence.

"Why?"

I didn't answer her. It didn't matter why. I could and I did. Simple as that.

I started to take my offramp when Shanti told me to take the next one.

"Why?"

"You need to change up your routine. Drive different patterns. Don't think about it, just take odd turns. You need to get smarter. WE need to get smarter."

More James Bond stuff. Neat. I took the next exit and after a few attempts at random turns I headed straight home. "What does it matter? When they know exactly where I am going?"

"Never make it easy for them. Make them work for it."

That I understood. I looked at Shanti. "I'm totally gonna fuck the Carvers. Fuck this cartel."

Shanti grinned at me. "I know. The whole boardroom knew. What are you going to do?"

"The same thing I do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world."

"Pinky and the Brain, really?"

"You want a Ren and Stimpy quote, instead?"

"No."

I pulled into my garage and parked in my spot. Shanti remained sitting and I watched her. I was waiting for her to clear the path to the elevator. "Um, are you gonna do your James Bond stuff?"

"James Bond stuff? What are you talking about?"

"Scanning for the enemy, sneaking around corners, listening to doors."

"You really are an idiot, sometimes. No, I want to talk about Amanda. She's coming over tomorrow."

"Yes, I know."

"Imani spoke to Amber. Amber said that if there was anyone in your life you truly cared about it was her. You gonna be okay with her living with you?"

"I'm not sure. She'll hate me. I haven't even seen her in the hospital."

"She knows you've opened your condo to her."

I nodded.

Shanti snorted. "Jesus, fuck. Grow a pair, will ya?" She opened her door and got out and checked out the area. I watched her and thought about Amanda. And Shanti. After a moment, I added Dana to the list.

I needed to get out. Hit a bar or something. When I mentioned this to Shanti, she grinned and called up Imani. We suddenly we were all going out on a date that evening.

* * *

I knew my city fairly well. I also knew the industrial area fairly well. What I never imagined was that there was a massive sex club at the far end of the industrial area. A very non-descript warehouse, with a side building sprouting three floors, that offered anything you could imagine.

I was truly pissed I had never known about this place. I walked in with Imani and Shanti, both of them dressed to the nines and hanging off my arms and felt blessed.

I was genuinely surprised when Shanti agreed to coming here. She simply said we couldn't let the Carvers force me into being a hermit. And, she added, no one knew about this place other than those in the know.

Thank goodness we were with Imani. With her with us we waltzed right in. We were processed in a receiving room, asked a bunch of questions, and soon we had white wristbands indicating we weren't looking for a hook up, and we sported little blue LED lights that signified we were Doms.

That generated stares when one man and two gorgeous women walk in arm-in-arm who are all Doms. Walking into the main warehouse was almost overwhelming. The whole floor was one big party. A DJ was rattling my teeth with a heavy sultry bass beat, lights spun and flashed all the colours of the rainbow, bars crowded with thirsty patrons served alcohol on the sides, and the entire floor was covered in bodies in various states of clothing undulated like ripples in a pond.

I immediately spotted some dude getting blown by two women. Over at a small waist high table a woman was getting seriously fucked by some skinny dude. People were groping each other and dry humping all over the place. I smelled sweat, alcohol, pussy and probably spunk. I grimaced. This was erotic but so far over the top I was mostly disgusted.

And I had a massive erection already. So did almost all the men I could see. Some clearly were exposed and happy about it. This was a massive sex club. I had never heard of the like.

I had to lean into Imani's ear to get her to hear me. "What the fuck is this place? This is insane!"

Imani laughed at me and shouted back. "One day I'll bring you down to Virginia Beach. There's an even better club run there by a good friend of mine!" She grabbed my hand and I grabbed Shanti's and Imani pulled us through the mob to a set of broad steps leading upstairs to the second level of the side building.

We pushed through a double set of doors and when they closed the noise dropped to an almost normal level.

"Oh, thank God," I said and looked around. The second level was really just the office space built next to the main warehouse. Except the décor was decadent. A cute girl, about nineteen I figured, was sitting behind an elaborate desk with a computer screen in front of her. She had no top on and her breasts were glorious orbs of flesh with prominent, pierced nipples. Behind her was a large TV monitor with a layout of the second and third floors on it. The rooms were either green or red.

Imani approached the desk and Shanti and I went with her. "Giselle! How are you?" asked Imani.

"Mistress! So good to see you! What's your pleasure tonight?" Giselle asked and stood.

My eyes went to her perfectly shaved pussy. She had a heart tattooed right over her pubic bone, with the bottom of the heart turning into an arrow pointing down. I now knew the way to her heart and wanted to test my theory.

Giselle saw Shanti and squealed. "Mistress! It's been so long!"

Shanti nodded at her and looked awkwardly at me for a moment.

Imani came around the desk and hugged Giselle. Their height difference had Giselle's head in her small bosom. As I watched she slipped a finger through Giselle's pussy lips and then sucked her finger. "Yum. Still delicious, baby."

Giselle smiled up at her.

"I need my room, please. All night."

"Green or red?"

"Red."

Giselle looked disappointed and bent over the keyboard and started typing. I stood on my tiptoes and tried to get a better view of her ass. She was thin and her ass looked lovely. I righted myself when she looked up and grinned at me.

"Hi!" she said.

"Hi, yourself. Peter Chase."

"Giselle. Nice to meet you. Imani, is he with you?"

"Yes, dear. And Shanti."

I saw the subtle look of surprise on Giselle's face. "With Shanti?"

"Yes, dear."

"Okay, wow." She typed a few more things and then stood and selected three plastic key cards and swiped them through an encoding machine. She handed us each one. "Is your brother joining you?" she asked Imani and Imani shook her head. "Okay, have fun, you guys. I'm off in an hour, Imani, in case you need a good sub..." That's when she noticed we all wore blue LED lights. "Oh, wow. Three doms... Seriously, Imani, Shanti, please?"

"Sorry, hon. Not tonight. This is a special night."

Giselle looked at all of us again and bit her lower lip. I could see she was sexually aroused. Her eyes were dilated, and her breasts were lifting and falling. I really wanted to touch them. "Please, mistress?"

"Sorry."

She looked crestfallen but nodded meekly and sat back down with a thump. I was mesmerised by the jiggle of her breasts until Shanti pulled me away.

"Great," muttered Shanti.

"What's wrong?" I asked as we followed Imani down the corridor. Along the walls were steel doors leading into what I assumed were the rooms displayed on the screen.

"Giselle will talk. Everyone will know I'm heading into a room with a man."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, keep walking."

I kept my mouth shut. Imani led us up another set of stairs and we entered a floor similar to the one we left. The carpet looked better and walls were tastefully decorated with prints of famous artwork. I sensed we were in the VIP section of the club.

As we passed a door on our right, it opened and I saw a woman standing there, looking startled to see us. She wore leathers, a mask, and carried a cat o' nine tails. She also wore a strap-on penis. Looking past her, I saw a man on all fours with a gag in his mouth. He had what looked like a horse tail sticking out of his ass. The woman closed the door and walked toward reception, her strap-on waggling back and forth.

We reached our room in the back corner and Imani keyed the door. We walked in and I saw what looked like a boudoir. Red lighting, a massive canopy bed, red drapes covered the windows, and in the corner, next to a stocked bar, was a massive hot tub with steam rising from it.

Imani turned to us. "Welcome! Ready to have fun?"

I was more than ready. I was born ready. My cock was starting to hurt in my pants. But... I turned to Shanti.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," was her sullen reply.

"Do I need to spank you?"

Shanti snapped her head toward me and glowered. "That's not ever going to happen."

"Imani liked it."

"I'm not Imani."

"Seriously, there's something up. All this I hate men and I'm a dyke stuff? It's getting old. You clearly like men and women."

Imani sidled up to me and started unbuttoning my shirt. "It's not that simple, Peter."

"Sure it is. Shanti, do you like women? Sexy stuff, I mean."

"Of course I do."

"And do you like men?"

"No."

"What? Of course you do!"

Shanti growled. "No, I don't. You are the exception."

I looked at Imani and she shrugged. "It's true. Shanti has a reputation as being a hard over dyke. A harsh word but oddly fitting for her. Her hooking up with you? Its scandalous. It would be like you suddenly craving dick. In fact, it's almost exactly the same."

I looked at Shanti and waited until she looked up at me. I looked into her eyes and then nodded. "Yeah, she's lying. She loves the dick."

Shanti's eyes flashed.

"Shanti, you are bi. Admit it. Get past it."

She turned away and went to the bar. She grabbed the bottle of Macallan and poured a full glass of it. She tilted it back and it disappeared down her throat. "Can we not talk about this?"

Imani had my shirt off and was working on my belt. I shuffled over to Shanti, making Imani angry, and stood next to her. Imani crouched down and started to pull my belt free. Why do women do that? The belt stays in the loops, but every woman who ever undid my pants pulls the belt free. Life's little mysteries.

"Shanti, I think you've hidden yourself off from men. Something happened to you. Something that turned you off them. But that's not true is it? You aren't turned off. You just ran away."

Shanti refilled her glass. I was hoping she would pour me one, but no such luck for me. "If I tell you will you shut the fuck up about it?"

I nodded.

Shanti took a large gulp of scotch and turned toward me. "After my mum passed, my da did something to me. I won't say what. It was horrible. I was so helpless. I couldn't defend myself. I vowed never to be overpowered by a man again. I started working out. Building up my strength. Turned out I really enjoyed it. I adore my form. Look at me! Fucking strong as fuck, now. My da tried it again one night, and I snapped his fucking neck and tossed him in the Thames with forty pounds of bricks zap-strapped to him. It was so easy. I thought I would be mortified. I wasn't. I felt vindicated. Stronger.

"I was asked to join the military. That or gaol. But it seemed like the logical next step for someone like me. I wanted to protect my country." She laughed. "Protect my country. So naïve. I was accepted and rose quickly through the ranks. Tried out for the SAS only because they did not want women in there. I said fuck em and proved them wrong. Over and over again they came at me. I beat them off. Wrong choice of words. I bested them. In time, I gained their grudging respect, but they still called me 'The Ugly Bulldog'. Never to my face. I sent many of them to the infirmary calling me that.

"Men look at me different from other women. They fear me or are repelled by me. I see it every time. Every glance. Then I noticed a lot of women didn't look at me that way. I experimented. Turns out some women are attracted to someone like me. Wanted me to assert my dominance over them. Give them pleasure. And so, I did." She took another gulp of scotch. "I needed that release. The sex. And I vowed never to let another man touch me that way."

I sucked in my breath when Imani took me in her mouth. I looked down and saw she was naked and slowly pulling me deep into her mouth with long sensual strokes. At once I was locked in my pleasure. I adore having a woman pleasure me. As soon as I escaped high school, and made my first serious money, I hired an expensive hooker for a week. I threw money at her and told her to teach me how to be a great lover. She did. She was the first woman who learned that Peter Chase won't commit.

Shanti looked down and watched Imani service me. I saw her lick her lips. She wasn't fooling me.

"Yeah, so wow. Great story. I believe it all, except the part about hating men. You've hated the men in your life so far, but not men in general. I think you've became so used to hearing the fucking retarded, steroid pumped, military goons, who were probably so pissed at you besting them, a five-foot woman, that they made it their mission to fuck with your head if they couldn't fuck your pussy. Mission accomplished."

"You know nothing."

"Jon Snow..."

"What?"

"Nothing. I know I'm right. Did you not see the men in the club downstairs gawking at you?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I see that shit all the time."