Professor Mistress Ch. 04

Comments welcome please good and bad, I'm still finding my voice as a writer and all feedback is greatly appreciated. I definitely have at least seven more chapters planned out already if not more. I'll try to release a chapter a week and have a sex scene in each chapter. This will definitely turn into a BDSM, group, public sex scenes as it progresses. Please comment good and bad!! Hope you enjoy!!

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Chapter 4

I grabbed the counter harder, biting my lip so hard it almost bled. It took all of my energy and self control to slide a couple steps to the side and out of her grip. I closed my eyes, regretting the loss of her touch immediately as my heart pounded in my chest. I took a few deep breaths, the sound of two men talking as they approached broke my self soothing. It was the two men from my bar, my old bar. One had his hand draped around the other's shoulder and they were laughing hardily looking into each other's eyes. They broke apart and smiled at Browning before their gazes dropped into something more serious.

"Interrupting were we?" asked the taller one with sandy blond hair, longer on top than the sides and back. I couldn't bear to even look at Browning.

"Really not," but I could hear the forced nature of her speech.

"Well we renegotiated the price of all the lumbar for our specialty pieces, just as you suspected, they just needed the elegance of someone more versed in the handling of wood," he smiled again now. All three chuckled and I stood still, not that I didn't appreciate a good sexual innuendo, but I was still raging a war inside my head over my actions.

"Oh great, you're all here," Shawna waltzed in now, her ease and grace evident as she tossed her bag on the counter. "And you as well," she gestured towards me and I glanced down at the counter as if I suddenly could read all the blueprints in front of me. I was glad I couldn't see the expressions of any of them.

"While we're all here," spoke up the other gentleman, his hair long and tied in a bun that far exceeded anything I was capable of pulling off, "we still haven't narrowed down a name, we need to pick something by the end of the week for all the LLC permissions, liquor licensing, taxing, and all that fun stuff for you ladies."

"Jess," I was still overwhelmed and almost jumped at the sound of my name, my eyes wide with the sudden attention of the whole group. I swallowed and looked at Browning for the first time since she had her hands on me.

"Your first assignment will be to come up with a name for this place. Bring it

with you tomorrow when you come back," her voice much more professional than it had been in my ear moments ago. I nodded quickly before she cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Y-Yes Brow-Mistress," I stuttered out like a teenager that had just been scolded. All eyes were on me now.

"Darling I am so sorry, we seemed to have misplaced our manners, I am Dean, Dean Preston, this," he gripped his male companion again, "is Grant Lincoln. You already know Browning and Shawna Rillet. We all work together, and have similar interests that led us to this business venture." I nodded as several warning bells rang in my ears. I wasn't sure why, the cogs in my brain were grinding against each other with every turn trying to keep up. Dean started saying something but I interrupted him before he could finish the first word.

"Like the firm?" I almost screamed at him, everyone stood a little taller, slightly alarmed at my aggressive outburst.

"Of course darling," he almost beamed at the recognition, "surely as a law student you had made the connection before now?" he almost laughed at me.

"From P&L?" I was shaking with anger now. The energy didn't go unnoticed by any of them, however it didn't seem to phase them.

"Where else from?" Grant chuckled along with him as I took in a breath, shaking with hatred. My fists balled immediately as Browning seemed to be the only one to notice how close to the brink I was. She reached out to me and clasped my forearm. I closed my eyes and ground my jaw, I knew I would always crave her touch, but right now, the heat from her hand felt like an invitation to hell. I almost laughed at how stupid I was. How did I not make the connection until I was neck deep with these bastards. I knew in this moment, that my world was over, my dream had just been ripped to shreds by these lewd moneyballers.

How could I not have noticed who they were? I should have recognized their faces the first night I met them. More importantly, how did I miss Browning's connection to everything that motivated me in my life? This must be what getting caught screwing your secretary felt like. I had been pussy whipped in the matter of minutes by this gaggle of inconsiderate professionals. I thought if I went to college, studied hard, got good grades, and applied myself, I could outwit the best of the best. I couldn't even recognize them standing in front of me, I was so far out of my league. These demons with angel smiles took everything from me. They destroyed my mother, why did I ever think I would be different going toe to toe with them?

I couldn't hold this energy any longer as it escaped me in a frightful and menacing laugh, the sound reflecting the anguish I felt at utter defeat. I couldn't hear the echo of my laugh, but everyone near me felt it. I thought I felt like I had nothing in the world when my mother died, but this was even lower. There was nothing left for me, my purpose, my determination, my efforts, all meaningless now. All of those nights spent studying, sleepless days from working at the bar, and keeping my social life at an arm's length, all for nothing. I was literally working for the perpetrators I swore to destroy with every breath. My laughing turned into something vile as my body started to shake uncontrollably. I spent years crying because of these people, I wasn't about to do it in front of them. My killer laugh was quickly turning into sobs. I noticed all of them staring at me through my breakdown. I rushed to get out of there, but the hand Browning had on me slipped down to my wrist. Her physical strength in any other context would have been admirable. But right now, it felt like a chain that was going to drag me to the bottom of the ocean.

"Let, me, go, now," the anger dripping from my words through clenched teeth. She raised an eyebrow which must have been out of habit as the rest of the group was taken aback at my sudden display.

"What's happened?" she asked, never letting my wrist go. I took in a deep breath, laughed once more in desperation, and ripped my wrist out of her grip. My rage gave me more strength that I anticipated as my hand collided with the counter at high speed. I didn't even register the pain as I grabbed my bag and took off in a weird mix of walking and running. The second I passed the threshold to the warehouse, club, prison, whatever it was, my feet blasted me home. All that pent up energy finally had an outlet and I made it home in record time. I slammed the door shut, not bothering to even lock it. Forgoing the beer, I went straight for hard liquor and downed several shots straight from the bottle. I spilled some in my haste to calm down as my hands couldn't be bothered to be steady. I fell to the floor against my fridge, spilling more liquor. I didn't care as I downed more, welcoming the burn that was a spark to the rage in my blood.

The last thing I remember was crying the nasty, snot bubbly kind of cry, and trying to stay upright. When I opened my eyes, the bright light from the window was blinding and brought a stinging to my eyes. On autopilot, my body rushed me to the bathroom as I emptied the fiery punishment from the night before. Feeling like I was done throwing up, I reached up to flush the contents down and winced as I finally gave notice to the dried blood all over my hand. I clasped it against my body and used my other hand to flush the toilet. As my head pounded, I slowly walked with the assistance of the wall, back to the kitchen to wash my hand.

Even the gentle current of the sink was painful. I winced and moaned audibly as the deep gash, bruising, and swelling were revealed behind the dried blood. I hastily wrapped my hand in paper towels once I was satisfied with the cleaning. I leaned down and grabbed the half empty bottle from the floor and walked over to the lone couch in my living room. I downed a few shots, the burn almost making me gag, reminding me I could hurl again at any moment. I didn't care. My life as I knew it was over. I wouldn't be able to work at that club, I wouldn't get the internship I needed, I was going to fail Browning's class. I was even more upset that most of all, I had missed the opportunity to have something with Browning, our connection had been quick and spontaneous, but my heart told me other tales.There was no way I would be able to walk into that classroom and face her ever again. Tears streamed down my face as my phone buzzed incessantly with a brain piercing shril somewhere off in the distance. I shuddered at the sound pounding through my hangover. I drank more. I was the dumbest, most useless human on the planet. I drank more. Then some more, and more again. I couldn't even fathom where I was going to live, or work, or sleep now.

My phone continued to demand my attention several more minutes as I sat in a heap of tears and regret on my couch. I slouched against the armrest, noticing how the sun was sinking through the window now. Great, not only was I getting drunk again, but I had missed all of my classes for the day. And I knew tomorrow would be the same. I emptied the bottle and let it drop to the floor with an ominous echo.

I wasn't sure where I was when my eyes rolled open slowly, but the loud banging was painful to all of my senses. I swear I could feel my body vibrate with every bashing that was coming from somewhere behind me. I tried to reach for the bottle on the floor somewhere without moving the rest of my body. I felt the tip as I ungracefully rolled it away from me instead of getting a grip on it. I didn't know it then, but it was empty anyway. I screamed in frustration as my own voice caused my head to pound, my stomach chimed in with a warning of a future toilet rendezvous. My tears fell without hesitation now at my useless predicament. I heard something that sounded like clicking behind me. At least this noise was less painful than the banging. I was dancing with unconsciousness as my eyes fluttered more closed than open. My arm hung slack towards the floor as the other clutched at my stomach begging for relief.

I felt a hand then, hesitant and gentle, stroking hair off my face. I could hear someone's voice but not what it was saying. It was smooth and melodic. "Mom?" I asked, clearly confused and slipping to and from being awake or asleep. I tried to open my eyes again but they stayed half lidded, only allowing me to make out a silhouette near my face. It was blurry but comforting as I felt a hand stroking my hair again. I must be dreaming, I often saw my mom with her gentle nature when dreaming, until reality turned it into a waking nightmare. She was gone, and so was I.

I heard the angelic voice again, this time a few words, like 'honey' 'why' and 'please'. I felt the paper towels being slowly unravelled from my hand, the last layer jolting some energy into my drunken stupor with sharp pain. I tried to sit up a little, finally able to open my eyes. Browning was crouched on the floor beside my couch, gingerly inspecting my hand. I pulled it out of her grip suddenly and ungracefully as her eyes pierced mine. She stroked my hair once more, cupping my cheek, her other hand fell to my stomach. I didn't have the energy to shove her off of me like I wanted to. So I settled for trying to scream at her. All that came out was coughing and the threat of vomit. Her image only brought on thoughts of my mother and more tears followed. She rubbed the wetness from my cheeks with her thumbs and I closed my eyes relishing in her touch. No matter how much I hated her, I wanted her to touch me. I let myself fall back into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

When I woke up, it felt like I was in my bed, but something was different. My head slowly rose and fell in a soothing pattern. Someone held me, rubbing my back in small circles and clutching my forearm that was draped across their middle. I squeezed my eyes and moaned in pain. My head was throbbing but it paled in comparison to my hand's pain. The stroking on my back never stopped as she rubbed my forearm with her thumb. I raised my head to meet her gaze, Browning. Of fucking course it was Browning. She gave me a weak smile through shimmering eyes.

"How are you feeling?" came out a whisper of concern.

I flexed my hand and sucked in a breath at the slow response and obvious swollen appendage.

"Like I did mushrooms and got eaten by a bear," I managed to get out.

"Well, you dented our shiny counter and murdered a bottle of liquor. It's safe to say you didn't win either battle."

"Our counter?"

"Yeah our counter, at the club."

"It's not our counter, it's your counter, you and your asshole companions."

"A lawyer isn't doing their job if everyone likes them."

"Well then you take the grand prize don't you?"

"I always have been an overachiever."

"I'm not sure what you have done could be described as an achievement."

"Someone always has to lose a case." I felt her shrug a little. I couldn't quite bring myself to move out of her caressing, as I passively chastised her.

"I don't think losing is a strong enough word for some case outcomes."

"Being a lawyer is a work of art, there is a balance between justice and mercy."

"Due process isn't a balancing act."

"The legal system doesn't have favorites."

"No just pockets competing to hold the most bills."

"Winning a case takes a lot of resources and manpower, these things aren't free."

"There is no price for doing the right thing."

"Maybe there isn't a price, but there is a cost."

"Someone's life is too high a cost."

"I don't work in criminal cases that have the possibility of death sentence."

"Receiving a death sentence isn't the only way for a case to end someone's life."

She leaned up to meet my eyes now, she seemed genuinely confused. We were ambiguously whisper-fighting. I looked at her and silently swore to myself that her eyes made my conviction waiver for less than a second. I looked away, trying not to let myself fall under her spell any further. Although her presence only reminded me that my life's work was meaningless, I couldn't help but relish in her arms around me. They felt familiar, almost safe. Even all of those feelings didn't stop a few tears from falling down my face.

"Why did you run away?" she finally asked gently. I sighed and resorted to stroking small circles around her stomach matching the stroking of my forearm. We sat in silence for some time. "Did you think all your lectures were at the bottom of the bottle?"

"I'm so stupid!" I yelled, sitting up but still clutching at her to keep steady.

"What are you talking about?" I could feel her frustration.

"I can't believe I didn't recognize you. You, or Dean, or Grant. I've spent years thinking of ways to hurt you. There's nothing that would equal the pain you brought to my life. And now," I shrugged and looked away as tears burned my eyes, "Now, I've ruined my whole life, it was all for nothing, everything. My life is over. Complete, and utter, waste." She rolled on top of me now, pinning my hands above my head and straddling my waist.

"I tried to be gentle and patient with you, but I'm neither of those things, what the HELL are you talking about, or rather around?" I hated myself for the reaction my body had at the position we were in. I couldn't help the throbbing that coursed through my veins at her taking control of me and moving me so effortlessly. Her gaze felt heavier than the pressure of her body on top of mine.

"YOU!" I screamed and uselessly tried to struggle against her. My hand was still throbbing.

"I WHAT?" she shouted back.

"YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!" I screamed as the tears fell now. She hesitated now, as a few things flashed across her face. She leaned back letting my wrists go but still straddling me. I clasped my hands to my face trying to hide the anguish and tears that had never truly stopped since I realized who she was, to me. Her hands went to her hips as she huffed out a breath.

"Darling, while a lot of my interactions can be described as less than family friendly, I can assure you, any pain I have ever inflicted on someone was consensual, and has never led to permanent damage and certainly not death. I don't even know who your mother is, but I am positive I didn't kill her."

There was a violent silence now, my body too consumed with exhaustion to even bother exerting more energy. How could I possibly think my mother's case was even a blip on her radar? P&L handle thousands of cases a year, although my mother's case was important to me, no one outside of the plaintiffs and defendants really knew about it. It wasn't a big publicity trial, it was just the end for my mother. She was crippled by the financial burden the outcome had, and she didn't want me to spend my life helping her pay for it all, so she ended her life. I spent my life trying to make up for it and get justice for those in similar situations, but nothing I could do now would really matter. I was still living week to week financially and now, I had no future with my education. I had wasted all of the time my mother sacrificed for me to have.

Browning leaned forward slightly, trying to coax an answer from me. She brushed her thumb over my bottom lip. "Will you talk to me? Please?" she asked, "I knew something was wrong when you didn't show up to class, you've never missed a class, for three years, three years!" Her vulnerability was painful to hear from her lips. I closed my eyes and arched into her slightly, deciding if this conversation was even worth it, as my core, throbbed with a demanding need to satiate its attention. I dropped my hands to her hips and almost laughed again, my body needing a way to expel the emotional energy.

"Liamben V. Havtel," I surrendered. Her eyebrows went up as her body froze.

"I am aware of the case?"

"You worked on that case didn't you?" her hesitation made my heart pound.

"That was almost a decade ago, what do you know about the case?"

"Did you work on the case?" My teeth ground together. She sighed and tilted her head to the ceiling.

"That was my first case, I wasn't even licensed then, I was an intern. It was my first live case where I was allowed to do more than just run errands for coffee, or pull files of data. Why? That case is supposed to be confidential and not public knowledge. How do you know about it?"

I couldn't believe I had gotten wrapped up in thinking she was personally responsible for the case. But there was still a part of me that knew, any part she had in the case had an effect on the outcome. My brain toyed with me in the temptation that if she knew about the case, her actions had a direct impact on the outcome. If she was an intern, that wasn't the case, but my anger was already anchored to the thought of her being responsible.

"My mother," I sighed and dragged my hands down her legs to cover my face, "was Havtel." I didn't care anymore about the NDA I had to sign when the case was 'resolved'. My mother's demise was irrefutable. Browning looked to the ceiling then proceeded to carefully climb off me. I couldn't bear to look at her.

"That case was almost a decade ago, there was no death penalty, it wasn't even a criminal case. And besides those files are confidential, I shouldn't even be acknowledging it." She stood now, and for the first time I could see her confidence dissolve, only for a moment. Her hands went to her hips as her lips pursed. More tears fell from my eyes as I clutched the sheets beneath me in anguish. Her eyes were drawn to my hands as she took her lips into her teeth again.