Revelation

An hour later Brock had decided – he was anything besides indecisive – that he would represent CRI. He spent the next fifteen minutes simply appreciating the shape and movement of Melanie's body, fantasizing that if she was half as passionate in the sack as she was about global warming that she'd be an all-time fuck.

Once the hour and fifteen minutes had passed, Brock held up his hand. "I need to meet with the director of CRI tonight. If he will agree to my conditions I'll take the case – but I'll have to leave McKenzie Squires. There's no way that they will agree to representing CRI – it would destroy their relationship with all of their fat-cat clients.

The smile Brock got from Melanie was almost as heart-warming as one from Brooke.

"Great," Melanie giggled as she reached for her phone to call Peter Boyton, CEO of CRI.

***************

That Thursday night Brock met with Boyton at his relatively modest condo in Arlington, Virginia (not more than three miles from Brock's luxury one also in Arlington) and CRI's in-house counsel (Jessica Sloane) who was the happiest woman in the world that Brock was considering handling the case since she had neither the experience nor stomach for handling it herself even with the pro bono offerings she had received from other attorneys. Boyton and Sloane were the only two people who knew of Melanie's involvement, and Brock insisted that it remain that way.

Brock set forth his plan, and expectations, for raising the money that would be necessary to mount a successful litigation. To Brock's surprise and joy Boyton disclosed that CRI had two rich angel donors who were each willing to match any donations received from the public to finance the litigation IF Brock would agree to be lead counsel.

Brock talked to the angel donors in a conference call that same night and reached a handshake deal with Boyton and Sloane. Brock would be paid a million dollars for his efforts in the litigation (about one fifth of what he would have made if representing FFA) regardless of the time he put in, and he would be provided enough resources to put up a good fight. The only distressing thing to Brock was that CRI was not expecting to win – it was just looking to establish a springboard for other approaches that would prove successful in the future. "No court anywhere has ruled in favor of what we're asking in the litigation; we just want to put up a good fight and get as much publicity as possible."

"You'll get publicity all right, that's not the problem. However, your attitude is. Tonight is the last time I want to hear anyone associated with CRI expressing the opinion that we just need to put up a good fight and not win," Brock snarled.

The shocked CEO and in-house counsel merely nodded their acceptance.

**************

The proverbial shit hit the fan the next morning when Brock handed Jim Watson and Bill Murray his resignation letter at 10 a. m. They were initially too shocked to speak so Brock filled the void. "I reached a tentative settlement in the Nestle litigation early this morning, and the only other major litigation that I have is a straight time-based charging one so the two associates that are working on it now can easily handle it, or you can bring Tim Paxton in on it – he's more than competent."

"What...what...what are you going to do?" Watson sputtered.

"Plus, you haven't given the one month required notice," Murry likewise sputtered.

"As far as what I'm going to do, I'm going to be lead counsel representing CRI against FFA," Brock confidently responded looking Watson straight in the eye, "and as far as notice is concerned, read my employment agreement Murray," Brock snickered, "it's different than yours. I'm not required to give any notice as long as I relinquish 30% of my outstanding accounts receivable, which is already set forth in the addendum to my resignation letter."

As Brock exited Watson's office to the swearwords hurled at his back he turned and said "By the way, my secretary Amy is coming with me as is paralegal Janet Riley."

Brock had been up all night negotiating the Nestle settlement, and moving all of his personal things out of his office, so he marched right from Watson's office to the receptionist's desk, handed her his office keys and badge while giving her a hug goodbye, and entered the elevator whistling "The Bridge on the River Kwai."

Despite his fatigue, Brock had one of the best experiences of his life when he went over to Bernice's house for dinner that Friday night and related the news to Brooke. He gave Brooke the credit for his attitude adjustment, causing her to clap her hands with glee and shower her Uncle Brock with double the normal number of hugs and kisses. That night Brock slept better than any other time that he could remember in the last ten years.

Things got even more interesting when Saturday afternoon – as Brock, Amy, and Janet were getting set up in their new offices at CRI – Peter Boyton passed on a message to Brock. It simply read "Call xxx-xxx-xxxx;" Brock clearly recognized it as Melanie's number. He got out his burner phone and made the call – it was answered on the first ring.

"Who's this?" Melanie asked.

"Who else has this number besides me?" Brock chuckled.

"Only Peter and Jessica," Melanie giggled. "I still can't believe that you resigned from McKenzie Squires. John is so pissed he's about to blow a gasket."

"How sad for him," Brock laughed.

"Anyway; I need to meet you again. Ask Peter where the hidden back door from CRI to the garage is; I'll meet you just outside the door at noon on Sunday," Melanie said.

"Why?" Brock asked.

"To discuss some important issues; don't be late," she snickered, and then terminated the call.

Sunday at noon sharp, Brock dutifully exited the hidden back door of CRI's office space, into a garage that was actually on another block, totally unseen by anyone viewing CRI's facilities. Casually dressed Melanie was waiting for him.

"Come on," she chuckled, grabbing his hand and leading him down one stairwell, through a blind alley, then up a hidden stairwell to a modest looking brownstone apartment. Melanie opened what appeared to be biometric locks and then pulled Brock into a small but very nicely, warmly, and expensively decorated apartment. There was a modern kitchen, a living area with all sorts of office equipment and a large HD screen that obviously had many hookups – including a TV cable – and off to the side a bedroom with a king size bed with the sheets turned down, and a heavy wooden headboard and footboard.

"What's this?" Brock inquired.

"This is my hideaway when I want to do things for CRI without anyone knowing – and also what I hope you will be a frequent visitor to," she smiled.

"And why would I be a frequent visitor here?" Brock asked.

"Why to meet me, of course. You can't take the chance of FFA catching you with a prostitute. Right now they only have supposition, no proof, but you can be sure that they'll try to get it and that they'll call the cops on you if they do. I know that a stud like you has needs. So this is where we'll meet – it will be our little love nest until the litigation is over," Melanie replied in a sultry voice, removing articles of clothing as she talked. When except for her high heels she was completely naked she grabbed Brock's shirt, pulled him toward her, and planted a scorching kiss on his lips as she simultaneously stroked his hardening cock through his pants.

Brock wasn't quite sure what was going on, but the vision of exquisite feminine beauty that had just filled his eyes didn't cause him to question anything at that moment. Rather, he simply picked up the nude goddess before him and with her hot lips still searing his, stumbled his way to the king size bed.

A sixty nine quickly resulted in an orgasmic pleasure moan from Melanie, and boiling balls for Brock. While Melanie was still moaning Brock got between her delicious muscular thighs and planted his sword in her scabbard in one deliberate push, bottoming out despite the snugness of her pussy. After some intense sexual gymnastics, Melanie exhibited surprising strength and wiles as she flipped Brock onto his back while their male and female parts remained mated, and proceeded to ride him harder than any cowgirl had ever ridden a bull, as her ample tits with pencil-eraser-hard oversized nipples bounced crazily until Brock latched onto them and squeezed them as her pc muscles milked his cock.

Melanie screamed like a banshee, and Brock groaned like a goat that had just been sledgehammered, as virtually simultaneous mammoth orgasms wracked their bodies. When the last of the orgasmic aftershocks finally dissipated fifteen minutes later, then decoupled and smiled at each other as they lay face-to-face on the wrinkled and sweat-drenched sheets.

"Thanks, stud, I really needed that. I haven't fucked anyone except that frog John since we got married sixteen months ago and I was horny as a toad – perhaps you noticed," Melanie diabolically chuckled.

Brock laughed at the thought that crossed his mind – and then decided that there was no reason not to say it aloud. "You know when we were in that motel room and I watched your passion and body I thought to myself 'if this chick is as passionate in the sack as she is about global warming, she'd be an all-time fuck.'"

"What's your conclusion?" Melanie grinned.

"You are – as passionate – and an all-time fuck."

"You think that you could stand fucking only me until this litigation is concluded stud?"

"As long as we can swing it at least twice a week," Brock grinned back.

"Not a problem – now let me see what I can do about your tubular friend," Melanie muttered in a sultry voice as she shinnied down the mattress and took Brock's slimy cock into her mouth. Between sucks she mumbled "Get the butt plug out of the nightstand and this time do me doggy with the lubricated plug in my ass."

Brock was happy to oblige.

Brock left the apartment two hours after he had entered with the biggest sex-induced grin, and sorest cock and testicles, in his experience. "That's the best pussy ever," he mumbled to himself.

In keeping with his new station, Brock sold his Lamborghini and bought an environmentally friendly – but just as fast – Tesla.

****************

As Brock knew that they would, McKenzie Squires prostituted themselves completely in getting FFA's business, including by hiring two litigation sharks away from other firms. John Patterson was pissed beyond comprehension – not to mention Watson and Murray – which Brock knew he could definitely use to his advantage.

FFA and McKenzie Squires were so livid that they tried to have the waiver that Patterson signed declared null and void, as well as the open-competition clause in Brock's former employment contract with McKenzie Squires. Brock made sure that they knew what they were in for in the litigation by not only winning on both points, but getting the judge (not the same one as in the CRI vs FFA litigation) to award attorney fees.

"Nice to have you still paying me while I'm kicking your butts," Brock snarled at Murray as Murray left the courtroom with his new shark litigator, killer whale Brock having eviscerated him.

The fundraising at CRI exceeded expectations once all their loyal – as well as thousands of new – contributors found out that Brock The Orca, as he was euphemistically known, was lead counsel. In fact, people at CRI even started to believe that a victory, no matter how unprecedented, might actually be possible.

Not all things were hunky-dory with the litigation, however. First, there was the problem with CRI's – for lack of a better word – morals. After two shady characters left Brock's office one afternoon, Peter Boyton popped his head in and said "Who are those two guys?"

Boyton didn't like Brock's response: "They're surveillance and hacking experts that I've regularly used in the past."

Boyton called Jessica Sloane into the office and they proceeded to express horror that Brock would ever use illegal surveillance and hacking, and demanded that Brock not use any even questionable tactics in conducting the suit on CRI's behalf. Just to get rid of them and stem their outrage, Brock smilingly agreed.

Another seeming difficulty was the U S District Court judge that was assigned CRI vs FFA; Anton Surritz was an early sixties long time judge, crusty and irascible beyond his years, who had a reputation of being pro-defendant and had just gone through a nasty divorce where he allegedly had been taken to the cleaners by his ex-wife. He tolerated Brock in the past when Brock was defending large multinational corporations, but had clear animosity for him in the litigation during every one of the seemingly endless procedural motions that were argued. Jessica Sloane and other CRI co-counsel were appalled by this; Brock just laughed it off even after paying a $1,000 fine for contempt of court when in open court he derisively referred to one of Surritz' rulings as "Neanderthal."

While other things seemingly were experiencing difficulties, what was going well – and which were much more important to Brock – were his relationship with his niece Brooke and his very different type of relationship with Melanie.

Brooke now didn't just love her Uncle Brock – she bragged about him to all of her equally socially-justice minded friends and teachers. Even Clem – Brock's brother-in-law who he had never been close to – was wholeheartedly agreeing with Brooke's unending praise.

As far as Melanie was concerned, the roughly six hours a week, on two different days, that Brock normally spent with her in their love nest in the brownstone apartment behind CRI's offices were heaven on earth. Every sexual experience with Melanie was better than any other sexual experience Brock had had with any other woman in the past – so much so that sex with Melanie was in a different solar system than any of his previous sexual encounters.

Melanie was Fourth of July fireworks combined with a seventy mile per hour roller coaster ride; by comparison other encounters were Labor Day and a horse and buggy jaunt.

Melanie's passion for the cause was as intense as her passion for sex with Brock, and never wavered. She continued to feed Brock worthwhile information – when she wasn't feeding him her nipples or pussy. In fact, she put Brock onto the possibility that FFA was hiding an extensive study that it had done which virtually proved the adverse effects that FFA's member's policies were having on climate change, especially on Native American populations on Alaskan islands, and poor coastal enclaves throughout the U. S. No such study had ever been produced by FFA during discovery despite the fact that it had been repeatedly requested.

*******************

When discovery was concluded and FFA did not file a motion for summary judgment CRI's co-counsel were confused. "Why aren't they going for a dismissal and avoiding a trial?" Jessica Sloane asked in a post-discovery meeting of all litigation personnel.

"Simple," Brock replied. "They have more money than God so the expense of a trial is of no consequence to them, they have a favorable judge who has made, and will continue to make, rulings in their favor, and they think that winning a jury trial will discourage all other possible litigations for decades to come. I would have been shocked if they filed for summary judgment."

Brock's calm demeanor, and sly smile, while talking perplexed all in attendance.

************

The trial went just as everyone at CRI feared – and Brock hoped for. Everyone at CRI thought that Brock had lost it when he continued to enrage the judge daily, although the amusement – and perhaps something else – exhibited by the jury didn't seem all that negative. The courtroom devolved into chaos, however, when near the end of the trial Brock started cross-examining John Patterson with a document entitled "FFA Literature and Experimental Evaluation of Global Warming Issues Affecting Communities in North America."

Lead counsel for FFA leapt to his feet "I object, Your Honor. This document was not listed in CRI's exhibit book, nor a copy provided to me."

"This document must be fake," Patterson gushed from the witness stand as he turned red.

"This is a document that FFA was asked repeatedly to produce during discovery and which they denied the existence of. It demonstrates beyond all doubt that FFA knows that its and its members' policies have already done extensive damage to communities across North America and will do much more extensive damage in the future," Brock yelled over the courtroom din, making sure that the jury took in everything that he said.

The judge demanded to see all counsel and Mr. Patterson, and CRI's representative Boyton, in chambers.

"What the hell is going on Vanark," Judge Surritz bellowed once the door to his office conference room closed.

"Simple Surritz," Brock confidently and disrespectfully replied, not using the title "Judge." "FFA hid a document during discovery, I found it, it proves all of their previous testimony to be lies, and now they want to get out from under the damage."

"It's a fake," Patterson cried out.

"If not a fake they stole it," FFA's counsel yelled at the same time.

"Where did you get this Vanark?" Surritz asked Brock.

"That's unimportant; the fact is that I got it and I have the right to examine Mr. Patterson about it."

"Did you steal it?"

"It's not stealing when they're required to produce it during discovery and don't, relying on the history of your obviously biased rulings in hopes of getting it excluded from evidence," Brock shot back.

"How dare you," Surritz huffed, so red and tight-fisted he seemed on the verge of a stroke.

After another fifteen minutes of charges, counter-charges, yelling, and even some cursing, Judge Surritz was ready to rule.

"Since you refuse to name or produce for trial examination the person or persons who obtained the document for you Vanark, I exclude it from evidence and will instruct the jury to disregard any comments you made about it. I also hold you in contempt and when the trial is over I'll send you to jail for a week," Surritz smirked.

"About one thousandth of the time that you'll serve" Brock snidely replied as he exited the room while Surritz yelled at his back.

As they walked back into the courtroom Boyton whispered to Brock "Have you completely lost it Brock; are you trying to lose this case?"

Brock stopped short, got an angry look on his face, stuck his finger in Boyton's chest and said "Don't you ever talk to me like that. You hired me because I'm the best – I'm going to win this fucking case for you despite your negative attitude. Just watch and learn."

Brock's angry face turned to a smile when he surreptitiously looked at Melanie, sitting in the FFA gallery, as she had most days of the trial, with a diabolical smile of her own. He also was pleased to see the Chief District Court Judge Wilton Ames sitting behind Melanie.

As Judge Surritz forcefully instructed the jury to ignore Brock's statements about what the excluded FFA study showed, Brock made eye contact with the majority of them and gave them a full-dimpled-cherubic smile. All that he made eye contact with smiled back.

**************

Brock's continued courtroom shenanigans shook up all of FFA, FFA's trial counsel, and Judge Surritz. It appeared that FFA did not want the case to go to the jury after all, so at the close of testimony – which occurred that same day – FFA indicated to Surritz that it intended to move for a directed verdict and asked that the Court set aside the next morning for oral argument. He of course agreed, despite Brock's half-hearted (actually one-tenth hearted, if there is such a thing) objection.