The Undercover Paralegalbydeputy duffy©
The sound of shuffling papers and dragging chairs signified the end of another Friday meeting. Cheryl Thomas sat nervously tapping her pencil on the mahogany table and glancing up at Mr. Griswald, the firm's senior partner. He had asked her to remain after the meeting so they could "talk." Her head was swirling as to what he might have meant by that, surprised he even knew her name. She had fidgeted throughout the meeting. With two small boys at home, this wasn't the time to lose her job. She didn't have long to think about it though, since the meeting was brief, and the room emptied quickly.
"Mrs. Thomas..." Griswald beckoned her.
Cheryl moved slowly to the head of the table. She was a little taken aback when he stood up and pulled out a chair for her. She thanked him and settled into the luxuriously padded executive chair that was normally reserved for the firm's partners. She felt uneasy.
"Mrs. Thomas, it has come to my understanding that your work on the Porrello case has been invaluable."
Cheryl mentally blew a sigh of relief. "Thank you sir," she said, looking up into his faded blue eyes, once again thinking how much they reminded her of Paul Newman's, as he appeared in her favorite movie, "The Verdict."
"Now, you know part of your job here, as a paralegal, is to investigate the facts of cases and to ensure that all relevant information is considered."
"Yes, sir," she mumbled.
"Well, we have some information that might just set our client free."
"I see, sir... good... but what does that have to do with me?"
"We need someone to get it on tape."
"Tape?" Cheryl offered.
"Look, I won't force you to participate, but we've backed ourselves into a corner on this one."
"Me," Cheryl said with a shrug, her heart a-flutter.
"I'm going to be honest with you. You only have one day to prepare, because tomorrow you have a meeting at Mr. Carrasso's house.
"Mr. Carrasso! Are you crazy!" Cheryl snapped (as she knew about his reputation all to well), and then she blushed at her outburst.
"Settle down. Mr. Donahue will be meeting with Carrasso. You will hang out at the pool with his daughter."
"Pool?" Cheryl groaned. "Why?"
"You see, his daughter knows that our client didn't kill anyone, because she was with him the night of the murder."
"Really?" Cheryl blurted.
"Yes, she was having sex with him and his girlfriend. We know because we have an informant who actually saw the sex tape. Miss Carrasso is quite proud of it."
"Yes, she's another Paris Hilton; in fact, she looks very much like her. She may even be prettier. All we need is for you to record her telling you about the sex tape. She bragged about it once. Of course, if you could get your hands on the actual tape..."
"I don't think I can, sir," Cheryl said with a gulp. She also felt very strange talking about sex with her old boss.
"We already have it set up. We have Mr. Donahue's apartment completely bugged. We just need you to talk her into coming over to his apartment, however you can."
"Why?" Cheryl asked. She also didn't like the "however you can" part.
"To get it on tape. She has a loose lip, so it shouldn't be hard to get her to admit to making the tape at the time of the murder. She knows it's true. Once we have her recorded admission, she'll have to testify. You just have to use some of your womanly charms. You'll save our ass on this one."
"I see. Why don't I just ask her at the pool?"
"We need to record it, and Carrasso's place is out."
"I could wear a wire," Cheryl offered, as much as she couldn't believe she was even thinking about it. But Griswald didn't appear to be taking a "no" for an answer. She was also growing strangely excited, probably because usually her day consisted of pushing papers.
Griswald shook his head. "A wire is out. They would find it."
"Trust me on that one. Take the rest of the day off and be at Donohue's at noon. Bring a bikini." Griswald stood up.
"Hold on, sir! Just tell me why they'd find it!" Cheryl plucked at Griswald's sleeve.
He straightened his jacket. "Carrasso doesn't trust anyone...especially lawyers... So his security team will search you both, before they will let you in."
"Oh," Cheryl moaned, as her boss made his way out the rear door. "Wait, sir, please, I can't." But he was gone.
Cheryl slumped into her chair. "Searched!" she gasped, shaking her head. "What have I gotten myself into?"
The side door opening startled her out of her daze. It was an old janitor with a broom. She offered a friendly smile in passing and made her way out into the hall. She turned the corner and almost ran headlong into the very lawyer she was supposed to partner with tomorrow.
"Ah, Jack, you surprised me," she gushed.
"So, can we count you in?" He asked.
"Oh, thank god! You'll save our ass on this one. You know where I live. Come by tomorrow at eleven, so we can go over our game plan," he said rapidly, then turned to leave.
"Wait Jack," she said, grabbing his arm. "That's twice I've heard that 'saving ass line.' But...why me?"
"You," he said, and then paused as if searching for the right words. Well, I was supposed to go over with my girlfriend, and I set everything up, and then I went home yesterday, and she and her stuff are gone...cleared out."
"But...again...why...me," Cheryl demanded, jerking on his arm. "I mean, there are some pretty lawyers here in the firm that could play your girlfriend."
"Ok, Ok," he groaned, pulling his arm free. He smoothed out the expensive cloth. "You, ah, fit the description we got."
"Yeah, well, description or prescription... You're a pretty blonde, with big bo..."
"Boobs!" Cheryl snapped, a little insulted.
"Yeah, that seems to be his daughter's type," he said. Then he laughed. "Ok, that's a universal type."
"Gee, thanks." Cheryl wasn't happy, but at least now she knew why she'd been picked. She also didn't like the fact that her boobs were being used as bait to lure another woman into a damaging admission.
"But seriously, you seem like you can handle pressure. Every time I give you something to do in a pressure situation, you come through." He paused and looked at his TAG Heuer watch. "You have some time now, so here," he said, handing her his credit card and a business card of a high-toned beauty salon. "Go have some fun and get your mind off of things for a little while. We have a big day tomorrow. And thanks again."
Cheryl took his advice. It was true that she very rarely had a day to herself. So she used this opportunity (and Jack's credit card) to unwind. Her first stop was the salon whose card Jack had given her. They knew him well. She wasn't really surprised that Jack went to a beauty salon; after all, she'd always thought of him as a "pretty boy." She also joked that he might spend more time in front of the mirror than she did. But she had to admit he always looked good, and he always had a sexy woman on his arm at the firm's get togethers.
She ordered up the works, since Jack was paying. And, remembering the bikini, she included a bikini wax. Cheryl blushed when it was time to take off her panties in front of a total stranger, but she tried to think of the female technician sort of like a doctor.
Next, it was off to buy a new bikini. She went to a small, name brand clothing store. The well-dressed sales girl helped her pick out a few to try on. Cheryl blushed when she offered to help. Cheryl just shook her head and scurried off to the changing rooms at the back of the store. She hurried out of her clothes and tried on the first one. She took some time looking herself over, as it had been a few years since she had worn a suit that brief.
"I guess I can still pull this look off," she said with a nervous giggle. "Plus, I still have these." She pulled the sting on her bikini top, and her breasts fell out. She pirouetted, her exposed breasts bouncing and staring back at her in the mirror. She reached up and cupped them in her hands, running her thumbs around her pink areola and then, with a purr, over her erect nipples.
"Are you all right, Ma'am?"
"Ah...yes!" Cheryl squeaked. Her face flushed when she heard the sales girl's voice, and she suddenly remembered where she was. She tried on a more conservative solid red one next and thought it was more appropriate. And she felt less naked. Though she liked it, she still tried on a dozen more before she left with the simple red one. Before she left, she also grabbed a white silk robe. On her way home, she made a stop to get a spray-on tan, since having two sons to look after didn't leave her with a lot of time to laze in the sun.
While she was shopping, she also thought about what to tell her husband -- and what not to tell him. She decided that, after they put the kids to bed for the night, she would tell him she had to work tomorrow with Jack Donahue and that they had an important meeting...with Carrasso (just in case). And that's all she dared tell him, for now.
It turned out he wasn't happy with the sudden news. Although he said he really didn't remember who Jack was, he certainly knew all about Carrasso's reputation from reading the newspapers. Carrasso was reportedly into guns, prostitution, gambling, and more. If the mob was dead, someone had forgotten to tell him and his gang.
She assured him that she wasn't in danger, because the FBI knew who went in and out of that mansion, and Carrasso was aware of it. Her husband pouted, but remained silent.
"Look honey, this is my chance to prove that I'm more than the blonde paralegal with the big boobs," she said, as she stroked his hair. "Plus I'll tell you all about it tomorrow night. Although, I might not be home until late 'cause after the meeting we have to draft some briefs. But I will tell you. I promise. I would never do things behind your back."
"Ok," he finally said, after Cheryl had batted her blue-green eyes a few times. "I know that, and I trust your judgment. But please be extra careful. I know your job is important..."
"Nothing is more important than you and the kids," Cheryl interrupted, as she stroked his hair. "And I will honey, everything is going to be fine. And I will have my cell phone..."
Her husband held her chin in his hand as he stared her in the eyes. "I just don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you. I just love you so much." Cheryl was too moved to respond with anything but a passionate kiss...that led to an even more passionate love making session.
Cheryl started a hot bubble bath afterward; she was still too wound up to sleep. As she soaked in the dim, candle-lit bathroom, she thought about what her boss had said earlier -- especially about "The Search." She had read some stories on the Internet and seen some movies that involved men searching women. She always got a small tingle of excitement as she pictured herself in that powerless situation. Cheryl's hands wandered over her body. She closed her eyes and drifted. Suddenly it felt like there were a host of hands touching her...rubbing her shoulders...caressing her breasts...patting her tummy...squeezing her ass cheeks...playing in between her legs...fluttering over her shaved pussy... And then fingers slipping inside...even slipping inside her little bottom hole.
"Oh god!" she gasped, as she suddenly realized she was actually fingering her own asshole. "That's a little too real," she said, before she slipped under the water.
In the morning, after making her boys' breakfast, she grabbed her pool bag and headed for Donahue's apartment, which was located in a plush complex across the city. She flashed her husband one last reassuring look before she left. His smile warmed her heart.
She drove across town, her nervousness building with every passing mile. She knew Donahue's apartment well because she had often been sent there to pick up paperwork. (Working at home was just one of the perks Donahue enjoyed as the firm's most successful attorney.)
She spotted him jogging not far from his place and pulled over, but he just waved her on. She didn't have to wait long on the landing outside his apartment, however. When he jogged up the stairs, he was shirtless and sweat-soaked. It made his muscular body glisten. She followed him into his apartment, while catching a glimpse of the front of his tight, damp running shorts. Of course, she had heard the rumors, but now she had a better feeling as to why he walked with such confidence.
"I have to take a shower. Make us some breakfast," he said, and headed for the bathroom. Cheryl chuckled until she realized that he was serious. For the second time today Cheryl found herself at the stove. "Men!" she groaned. She wasn't really surprised that she was half through with her eggs, when Jack finally made his way out of the bathroom, his cologne signaling his approach.
After some initial small talk, the conversation turned to the task at hand. He did most of the talking, and she did most of the nodding and mental note-taking. It was the way it always was between the two of them, as much as it irked Cheryl. It didn't help when he suggested she go change and "pretty up" in the bathroom.
Now it was her turn for some mirror time. When she walked out of the bathroom sometime later, Jack looked up from his paper and did a double take. "Oh, Cheryl, if I can be so bold, you ARE beautiful."
Cheryl, who usually didn't wear a lot of makeup at work, blushed, dropped her chin, and fluttered her lashes. Jack looked her over carefully. She had her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, but she left some bangs that fell seductively over her blue green eyes, now dramatic with dark liner. Her makeup was capped off with fire engine red lipstick, which accented her pouty lips. She also smelled like a warm spring time breeze.
But then Jack started to chuckle.
"What?" Cheryl demanded.
"You going dressed like that?" he asked, shaking his head. She was wearing a silk white robe, with a sash around her waist, and a pair of flip-flops. "I thought you said you bought a new bikini?"
"I did -- it's under here," she said, as she seductively untied her robe, causing Jack's heart to skip a beat. "Taa-daa," she cheered, as she pulled her robe open.
"What's that?" Jack said, with a frown.
"It's my Atlanta Hawks basketball jersey," she said, with a giggle. "It's good luck. But don't fret, my love, my bikini's under here," she teased, as she tied up her robe again. "What did you think, I was going to go over there wearing only a bikini, when you're in your Armani? I feel silly enough."
"Ok, Ok," Jack said, "but we're making a stop to do something about those flip-flops." Jack stood up and surprised Cheryl, who was looking at her feet wondering what was wrong with her flip-flops, by picking up her pool bag as well as his briefcase. "Let's go, honey-bunch."
Things returned to normal when he handed Cheryl the pool bag. She huffed and followed him outside to his silver Lexus.
"Hey!" Cheryl whined, standing in front of the passenger's door as Jack was about to get into the driver's side. "You're supposed to be my boyfriend."
Jack just rolled his eyes, snapped on his shades, and got into the car. Cheryl glumly shook her head and got in. As they sped off, she called home on her cell phone. (Jack was a constant reminder of why she loved her husband so.)
On the ride to the suburbs, they made a stop at a fancy shoe store. Cheryl was a little embarrassed to be trying on shoes while dressed for the pool (especially the styles that Jack picked out), but her shoe boy seemed to enjoy it and her freshly waxed legs. Although Jack wanted seven, she settled on a pair of six-inch spike heel sandals. The feet were glittery and transparent, and the spike heels were burnished silver. Cheryl had to practice walking in them, for it had a long time since she'd worn heels six inches high. She felt like they were made for strippers, but Jack was paying and it was for only one day. She also knew that her feet would be sore tomorrow. As they left the store, Jack dropped her flip-flops in a trashcan.
They finally pulled up in front of a mansion that was guarded by a brick wall and a steel gate. They sat idling for a few minutes, taking the time to compose themselves. Jack had Cheryl put her cell phone and wallet into the car's glove compartment. Suddenly Jack laughed and pointed out the car's window.
Cheryl looked out the window, but was a little puzzled. "What's so funny, Jack?"
"When's the last time you saw three telephone workers up the same pole?"
"Oh," Cheryl groaned, remembering the FBI surveillance. She let out a little laugh. Funny as it was, it didn't settle her nerves much. The large steel gate started to open, and a large figure slipped out through the gap and walked their way.
"Oh, god, the ring! Your ring!" Jack blurted.
Cheryl jumped in her seat, and then realized she was still wearing her wedding ring. It was a struggle to get it off, since it was the first time she'd removed it since the wedding. But she just did manage to get it off and stashed in the glove compartment before the large figure came up to Jack's window.
"You the lawyer?" he bellowed.
"Yeah, Jack Donahue," Jack said, handing the large man his ID.
"Ok, pull in, and go to the front entrance." Cheryl realized, as he talked, he was also scrutinizing her legs. It made her a little uneasy. Jack drove the car through the gate and up to the front entrance.
"I don't know if I can do this, Jack," she whispered. Reality was setting in.
"Nerves... I'm nervous, too," Jack said, taking a deep breath. Cheryl did likewise. "Just follow my plan. We absolutely must get her back to my place."
Cheryl sighed. ("He makes it sound so easy," she thought. "But I'm the one with the tits.")
They got out of the car and went up the front walkway. The door opened before they got to it, and a large bald man, wearing a suit and tie, waved them in. They edged past him into the foyer, where they were met by three other well-built men, dressed in cheap suits.
"Hey, what the...!" Jack bristled, as one of the men grabbed his briefcase, while another pushed him against the wall. Cheryl didn't have time to react to that, since her pool bag was ripped away, and she was also pushed against the wall.
"Check his stuff good," one of the men barked. "If there's one kinda geek Mr. Carrasso ain'ta trustin' most, it's a lawyer!"
One of the men began searching the briefcase; another rifled through Cheryl's pool bag.
"Hiding anything I should know about?" The bald man whispered, as he started to rub Cheryl's shoulders. She turned her head to protest, but saw Jack getting patted down, too. She also knew it would be futile. The bald man moved his hand roughly down her body. He squeezed her ass and then moved his hands around front. Cheryl squirmed as he brushed her sex. His hands moved higher and higher. Cheryl held her breath for the inevitable. Her searcher purred as both of his hands cupped and then fondled her breasts.
"Well, what do we have here?" he whispered.
"Find something?" The man who was searching her pool bag said, looking up and then, catching on, laughed.
"Get off," Cheryl snapped, but that just drew more laughter.
"Good afternoon, all." An oily voice filled the hall, just as the bald man yanked back on Cheryl's ponytail. "Sorry I missed your entrance."
Her hair free, Cheryl turned her head back and saw a well-dressed man in a black, pin-stripped suit with a beautiful long-haired blonde, wearing a flowing red robe, on his arm.
("That has to be her," Cheryl immediately thought. "Oh my! She is everything they said she was.")
"Sorry for my men. They tend to be uncivilized at times," he said, as he pulled on the arm that was pressing on Cheryl's back. "Easy, big fellar. Let her go."