Pretty Baby Ch. 06

I heard him chuckling behind me. "Bet you did, sweetheart." I could practically feel his eyes on my ass. "How much of that do you get, anyway? Half?"

I ignored his question, setting my makeup bag on the counter next to the little black case, then stopped by the foot of the bed and faced him. "What does your wife think about you spending every other day for a month and a half with an escort?" I asked challengingly.

His face darkened. "Leave my wife out of this," he said, taking slow steps toward me.

I looked at him directly as I sat on the edge of the bed, spreading my legs just enough. "If I was her, I'd be really worried. Girl like me . . . who knows what I'd do in this situation."

Arni shook his head. "Don't start that shit," he said. "You couldn't seduce me if you tried."

I lowered my eyes, grinding my teeth. Arni headed past me toward his open briefcase on the table. Oh, no, Arni? I thought. Then why do I see a bulge in your pants? Why did you just sneak a peek up my skirt?

". . . just one last thing," he was saying. I heard the shuffling of paper. My eyes stayed on the floor as I listened. "Schaffer is going to do and say anything to get to you. He's going to try to rile you up. You can't let him."

I sighed. "I know, Arni," I said. "Christ! I know as much about Ian's lawyer as you do!"

He chuckled again. "No, you don't," he said meaningfully. "But you're going to find out tomorrow."

My heart palpitated. "Would you stop saying that?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"Stop saying what?"

"'Tomorrow,'" I said. "You're doing it on purpose, trying to scare me. I know it's tomorrow, Arni. Can we just not . . . talk about it anymore tonight?"

He was quiet a moment, shuffling papers. I got the impression he was looking at me. But I didn't lift my head. I was counting the individual loops in the carpet.

He snapped his briefcase closed. "All right," he said, his voice sounding more sympathetic. He came over to the end of the bed and sat down beside me, slipping his arm around my shoulders. His cologne was faint, sharp. Cool Water, I realized.

"Look," he said, his voice soothing. "I'm going to be there with you, okay? Whenever you feel like you're gonna lose it, or Schaffer's pissing you off, I want you to look at me. I'm here for you, Alyssa."

I trembled, letting out a shuddering breath. My hand found his, squeezed it. "You better be," I said. "God, I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It's the right thing," he said.

I nodded. "I know it is. If I don't do it, the people I love will get hurt." I cradled Arni's hand against my chest, letting him feel my heartbeat. He stiffened a little against me. I pretended not to notice.

"Uh, that's right," he said.

Swiftly, smoothly, I let go of his hand but kept it between us as I wrapped my arms around him, hugging tightly. My cheek was against his chest as I felt his curled-up hand twist and cup my left breast. Again, I pretended not to notice. I squeezed Arni tightly, like a little girl who needed daddy's protection, and gave him a little whimper. His body was tense. He breathed in deeply. I figured he was smelling my shampoo. Some men liked to do that.

"Um . . . Alyssa . . . ."

I drew my face back from his, absolutely conscious of his hand cupping my breast, the tips of his fingers upon naked flesh above the lapel of my blouse. His face was showing the obvious struggle between lust and duty. I decided to give him a little push.

Doe-eyes. Soft, wide, round, and innocent, coupled with a little nibble of my lips. It was a silent invitation, one that any man would have recognized. Arni certainly did.

"We, uh . . . Alyssa—"

"Thank you," I said, my voice slight and frail, that of a frightened girl. "I'm just really vulnerable and scared right now . . . I'm sorry I hugged you like that but I really just need someone to hold me."

Arni swallowed nervously. I felt his fingers brushing my naked skin, caressing my breast. The tingle sent a little charge through me, and I shivered. I just stared into his eyes . . . .

I could tell the moment he gave in. His features softened and his eyes glazed over with an expression of desire, of resignation. I pressed my body against his, arching my back a little so that his fingers, dragging lightly down my breast, touched the edge of my puffy areola. And that was all it took.

"I can't do this," he whispered, even as he lowered his face, parting his lips. I licked my own and tilted my head to meet his mouth with mine. "I really can't doohhmm . . . ."

I had not been with a man in six weeks, and my abrupt and total lack of physical satisfaction needed serious assuaging. I sucked on Arni's lips hungrily, moaning and sighing, encouraging his passion to flare. And flare it did. I guess his seven-months-pregnant wife had not been much in the mood for sex lately.

He sort of growled, kissing me aggressively, his hand jerking open my blouse and openly groping my tit. I trembled in passion. God, did I want to fuck!

I sighed and moaned heatedly as Arni's mouth went from my lips to my neck, down my chest, and right to my thick, puffy nipple. I arched my back, cradling his head. Arni sucked as much of my breast as he could, like a starving baby in need of milk. His tongue swirled round and round my nipple, bathing it in the heat of his mouth.

His left hand slipped under my skirt and I spread my legs wide, whimpering excitedly in anticipation. Arni didn't have much in the way of finesse, I realized. Fine with me. I didn't want moonlight and roses. I wanted blazing passion and a stiff, throbbing cock.

I lay back on the bed, lifting my legs and spreading them wide, letting Arni dig his fingers through the wet cotton of my panties and right into my steaming pussy. I clutched him desperately -- and at that moment, I really was desperate -- and frantically started pulling on his tie. He slurped his mouth off my nipple and eased up a little.

I'm surprised we didn't lose any buttons, the way we were both ripping off our clothes. Not a single word was said. Arni had been fantasizing about fucking me for a month and a half, I knew. All those stories he'd heard about me must have really become embedded in his libido.

He was about to realize that the reality is more intense than the fantasy.

The attorney was in pretty good shape. A little soft around the middle, but I didn't mind. The only thing that mattered to me was his cock, which stood up straight and proud and pleasantly thick. I shoved Arni back on the bed, and he gave me a look that told me he was as intimidated by me as he was turned on.

His eyes wandered over my body as I stood in all my nude glory at the end of the bed. I let him get a real good look, teasing him for just a moment as I ran my hands over my breasts, licking my fingers and polishing my nipples, stroking my slick pussy. His cock twitched.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, his face absolutely full of lust and awe.

I just grinned, then leaned over, legs straight and back arched, opening my mouth as I slowly lowered my head, looking into his face and watching him tremble as he understood that his cock was about to enjoy the pleasures of my lips and tongue.

I opened wide and barely touched his shaft with my mouth as I slid down. His cock literally stuck straight up from his groin. I only really felt him as the head of his dick pressed against the opening of my throat, then slid inside. My nose pressed into his abdomen. His musky, hairy balls met my chin. Only then did I close my lips around him and start sucking.

"Ohholyfuck!" he grunted, clawing the sheets. I held my breath as long as I could, sucking out the flavor of his cock, feeling it twitch and spasm in my throat. Finally, I pulled up, taking in air through my nose and murmuring in satisfaction. For my first cock in six weeks, Arni's tasted damn good.

I ran my hands up and down his body as I sucked him, gliding my lips all the way up to the very tip, then plunging down until he was fully seated in my throat. Arni writhed and thrashed. I figured he had never gotten such a 'professional' blow job before.

I kept his dick in my mouth as I crawled up onto the bed, turning around until my needy sex was poised over his face. Arni wasn't a dumb guy; he knew what I wanted. His hands slapped to my thighs and he moaned into my pussy as he tasted me, aggressively covering my cunt with his mouth and sucking hard. I whimpered around his cock and sucked harder, faster, drool oozing into his pubic hair and dripping down his balls.

Nothing could be heard in the room for many long, sweet minutes except the wet licking and sucking sounds of mouths on genitals, and our mutual sighs and moans. Arni gave me a sweet, rumbling little orgasm with his tongue, making me whimper around his twitching cock. As I came down from my sweet peak, I concentrated on Arni's dick, eager to get him off.

"Uhn! Ah! Ohgodohgod!"

Arni's hot exclamations upon my labia announced the arrival of his orgasm, and I sucked hard on just the head of his dick, pulling with my lips, massaging with my tongue. I could feel his penis swell, and then . . . oh, that rush! That sweet, hot, salty-sweet gush of thick semen, flowing over my tongue and deluging my taste buds. I savored the taste of him, the way his cock danced between my tight lips, spitting out every creamy drop. I massaged his testicles to urge it all out, held his flavor on my tongue.

Arni gasped beneath me, quivering with aftershocks as I kept him between my lips. I stroked his shaft with a light motion, swirling his cum around the head for a moment before finally swallowing it down. I nursed out a last little bit and smeared it into my lips.

With a last lick on the head of his cock, I pushed up and turned around, straddling Arni. He was breathing hard, his orgasm having drained his strength. But at least his penis remained fairly hard, which was enough for me. I gripped it with my hand and rubbed the slick head between my lips. I figured I wasn't taking much of a chance fucking Arni without a condom. Besides, I didn't have any, figured he did not either, and I wasn't about to be denied my pleasure.

He shuddered and groaned as I worked his spongy, half-hard cock inside my tunnel, and winced as the overly-sensitive head was squeezed by my vaginal muscles. I sighed at finally being filled. I had not realized just how much I had wanted sex until I was forced to go without.

"Oh, God," Arni moaned, settling his hands on my hips and watching me working on him. "Jesus you're so tight . . . how . . . how . . . oh, God . . . ."

I wasn't listening to him. I just wanted to use him, to satisfy myself, to take at least something from him that would push away the fears and doubts and worries in my mind. And if all I could get was raw, carnal pleasure, I was determined to get my fill.

And then some.

***

Detective Clay escorted me down to an unmarked squad car the following morning. He didn't say anything, but he gave me a gunny look, as if he suspected what had happened between Arni and I the night before. Although that might just have been my own paranoid conscience making me think that.

I cradled my purse in my lap on the drive, said nothing. My heart was beating erratically and I had an unpleasant tingle in my stomach. Butterflies, I thought. So that's how that feels.

Clay headed to an underground garage beneath the courthouse, took my arm in his callused hand and lead me to an elevator. He slapped the button to close the doors.

"You know, I got a daughter who's almost your age," he said, his voice grating through his teeth. "Don't see her much. She's gonna be seventeen in a few months. Her mother tells me . . . she's got a couple boyfriends. A couple."

I didn't say anything. I just listened.

"What happens to girls like you?" he asked, sounding pained and worried. For a moment, he wasn't a hard-ass cop with an attitude. He was just a worried father. "How do you . . . do that? Sell yourself?"

"Maybe I like it," I said.

He turned to me, a disgusted expression on his face. The elevator stopped humming. "God help my daughter if she ever turns into you."

I met his gaze. "You know what I think, detective?" I asked him haughtily.

He glared. "What."

I stepped past him as the doors opened and the rush of a dozen different conversations flooded from the courthouse hall. "I think you wish you had the money to afford someone like me."

He caught up to me and grabbed my arm, making me gasp and turn to face him. His eyes blazed with controlled anger.

"Now you listen to me, you little stuck-up bitch," he hissed. "There are still a few people left in the world who have morals, people who have seen the fucking shit that human beings do to each other every day. You think you know what pain is because you got raped once?"

I stared at him, shaking and frightened as Clay continued: "Try talking to a thirty-year-old streetwalker who sucks dick for thirty bucks a pop and has four kids by four different fathers. Who gets raped on a weekly basis by her pimp and has cigarette burns and track marks on her arms. You don't know shit, little girl. Whether you like it or not, this is the best fucking thing that could have happened to you. Stop being a whore and start being a woman."

Clay let go of my arm with a rough shove. There were a few around us who saw the display. I blushed deeply in embarrassment. My arrogance, my self-righteousness, vanished. What I had to do suddenly became even harder.

"Come on," he growled, and lead me through the light crowd.

Arni was waiting for us in an interview room off a back hallway, near the courtroom where I was to make my debut. As a protected witness, Arni did not want me to be seen by any of the reporters who were covering the trial, who were, for the most part, forbidden to enter the rear halls. I knew he figured I might get spooked if some photog jumped in my face and started flashing his camera and asking me tabloid questions. I figured he was right.

Arni gave me an uncomfortable look as I entered the room. He was remembering the night before, I could tell, and his guilt was almost telling. There was an older man with him, dressed in a dark suit with a red tie. Arni curtly introduced him as the District Attorney, Karl Fuchs. He didn't say anything as Arni went over a few last details. I wondered if Mr. Fuchs could sense the lingering sexual tension between Arni and I.

"All right," Arni said at last, stepping close to me. He didn't touch me, as much as I figured I knew he wanted to. "You're the first witness. You need to be confident in your answers. Remember everything we went over. Okay?"

I nodded, searching his eyes. "Okay."

Arni blinked and looked away. He glanced for a moment to his boss, then left the room.

Mr. Fuchs, professionally confidant with his hands in his pockets, came around the small table in the room and faced me. He was a short, stocky man who looked like the stereotypical grandfather. His hair was snow-white and I figured he was in his sixties.

"This is a very important case for our young Mr. Detweiler," he said. "He has a lot of promise. I would hate to think he might be compromised in any way."

I gave the DA a blank look. "Why would you think he has?" I asked.

Fuchs responded with a patronizing smirk. "Pretty girl," he mused, as to himself, then stepped past me. "The bailiff will come get you when we're ready."

I sat down after Fuchs left, drumming my fingers nervously on the table top. The District Attorney's words resounded in my mind. Everything he had said made me feel like nothing more than a tool. Hell, everything about the case made me feel that way. It struck me, then, at that moment, how I had always catered to other people throughout my life. I had always listened to my conservative, Christian father, had capitulated to those two boys in the mall, had done everything Gary ever wanted, and Ian . . . .

Even if he loved me, I had still been his docile prize, his plaything. And all those men . . . sure, I had enjoyed myself for the most part, reveling in the illusion of power and influence I gained from being a pretty young thing men desired . . . but it was, truly and ultimately, an illusion.

It dawned on me that I had almost never done anything just for myself. Whatever I had done, it had always been to please one man or another, in one way or another. Sexuality coupled with compliance had become a curse.

Well, no more.

***

The hardest steps I ever took in my life were the ones that carried me into the courtroom from the little side door. The wooden pews were crammed full. Reporters, detectives, future and past witnesses . . . I saw Cleo, grey suit and dark sunglasses, her face unreadable. James stood against the wall behind her, stoic as ever. I saw Ian's wife Rebecca, tastefully dressed and glowering at me, mouthing the word 'bitch' as she saw me. And Erin, seated beside her fiancé Ross, looking at me as if to ask 'how could you?'

I saw my parents, Mom giving me a forlorn look of encouragement, my father as stone-faced as always. I saw disappointment in his eyes. But that was nothing new. Julie sat beside them, sympathy and vicarious apprehension on her face.

And then, of course, there was Ian.

Seated behind the simple wooden table, beside his lawyer, hands clasped before him on the table. He did not look angry; he looked tired. The previous weeks had taken its toll, though he tried not to show it. His dark eyes bore into mine, but there was no message behind them. He seemed empty.

I was lead to the witness stand, and the bailiff held out a bible. I placed my left hand upon it, raised my right as I was instructed to do so.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" he asked.

I nodded, anxiety coursing one last time through me. My voice felt dry as I responded. "I do."

"Have a seat."

I did so, peripherally listening to the buzz of excited conversation among the gallery. I didn't look at anything or anyone except the floor, Ian, and the Judge, when he addressed me.

"Please state your full name for the record."

I took a breath. "Alyssa Leigh Green," I said. I faintly heard the rapid tapping of the stenographer.

Arni stood from his table. Remembering his coaching, I straightened and looked to him directly, hearing the stirring of the jury to my left. I could feel their eyes upon me. I wondered what they had heard, what had come out during the trial thus far. Arni had not made me privy to any of the court transcripts. He did not want my testimony to be 'tainted.'

"Miss Green," Arni said as he approached. He smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Detweiler. A little tired. I had a rough night."

His eyes shot to mine for a brief moment. "Eh . . . could you explain, for the court, what you do for a living?"

Here we go, I thought, and steeled myself. I put on my best 'innocent' look and batted my eyes as Arni stood in profile to me, his chin lifted smugly.

"I'm a student," I said. "Sophomore in college."

Arni's lips twitched. He knew that wasn't the answer I was supposed to give. But he covered his consternation well. "And . . . what else do you do?" he asked, facing me, giving me a hard look.

I shrugged. "Watch TV, go to the movies with my friends. I read books sometimes."

A low murmur of laughter rolled through the gallery.

Arni gritted his teeth a moment, forced a smile. He glanced to his boss, Mr. Fuchs, standing to the rear of the courtroom. Arni's embarrassment was rapidly growing. He cleared his throat, adjusted his tie.

"Miss Green . . . ."

"Yes?"

"Are you not employed by a company known as Angel Escorts?"

I furrowed my brow. "Angel what?" I asked sweetly.