#YouToo

"Uncomfortable? Why? S"

"This job and my reputation mean a lot to me and I don't want to screw it up."

Jackson smiled. This was going to be even easier than she thought.

It took her a couple of minutes to formulate her next response. How could she make him trust her without these text messages proving that a physical relationship was consensual? Could she use them to help prove that she slept with him because she felt threatened about losing her job?

She typed: "I think everyone knows that loyalty and discretion are things the firm values highly."

There, that should be ambiguous enough.

The response came a few minutes later: "I get your message about loyalty. I'll see you at dinner."

Jackson dabbed on some Coco by Chanel on her wrists and behind her ears. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Like her mother always told her growing up, it's better to have a vagina than a dick because with a vagina, you can always get a dick.

She put a small dab of perfume between her breasts and went down to the hotel lobby.

Dinner was as polite and awkward as one would expect. B. Wright sat quietly and listened to Carson and Jackson discuss their respective law school experiences and the procedural defenses Gemini had to the Big Dick cases. The food was adequate but nothing great. Even the one bottle of wine—split three ways—did nothing to enhance the flow of conversation. Finally, the waiter brought the bill and Carson signed for it.

The three co-workers shuffled into the empty elevator. Carson pressed the buttons for floors 2, 5, and 12. When it reached the second floor, B. Wright said goodnight and let the elevator door close behind him.

When he was gone, Jackson turned to Carson.

"The first person to be deposed tomorrow is Mr. Galotti. There was some information I recently discovered about him and previous lawsuits he has filed. I didn't have time to give it to Todd to put it in the data base before today but I could show it to you now, if you want."

The bell for floor five rang and the elevator doors opened. Jackson held it there with her hip. Carson pondered the invitation. He recognized he was at a cross-roads.

She stood before him invitingly. She bent slightly at her waist, cocked her head, and looked up at him. His eyes moved from her gaze, to her parted lips, to her prominent cleavage and pointy nipples. He took a deep breath as the elevator door tried to close and then reopened.

There are times in a man's life when he knows that the next few minutes could alter his future course significantly. Ben Carson sensed that this was one of those times. He also thought of how mundane his life had become over the last twenty-five years. He felt a rush of blood to his penis and a clenching in his stomach and made a decision.

"Come up to my room. 1223. I need to see what you have."

This time, there was no mistaking his double meaning.

Five minutes later there was a knock on his door. He opened it to find Jackson standing before him with her purse and a manila folder in hand. She had changed into a very sheer white blouse.

Carson stepped aside to let her in. She handed him the folder and put her purse on the table. The folder was empty.

Jackson moved close to Carson and started unbuttoning his shirt. She reached into the expanded opening of the fabric and ran her hand along his chest hair.

"You don't really want to work, do you?"

Carson looked down at her hands. Her touch felt so good; new yet familiar; utterly exciting yet comfortable.

He breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. God, she smelled good. All of his senses were now on full alert.

He stood with his arms to his side and his neck slightly extended. Jackson continued her caress with her left hand and moved her right to trace the outline of his hardening penis through the fabric of his pants. She wrapped her hand around its girth and squeezed. He gasped.

"Already take your Talla?" she teased.

"It's all me." He smiled. "No pharmaceutical enhancements required—or wanted. I couldn't stand the pain."

Susan walked him backward until the back of his knees hit the bed. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and then pushed him gently with her left hand. With his torso now on the mattress, she got down on her knees and concentrated on gaining access to his ever increasing prominence. With some effort she unbuckled his belt and unlatched his pants. She unzipped his fly to partially reveal his penis straining against his plaid boxer shorts.

She reached in and pulled the stiffening rod through the fly. It was hot and smooth and she held it gently. It flourished under her touch, growing to its full length and becoming more rigid. She felt it pulse and then twitch spasmodically.

She examined Carson's penis with the same sense of wonderment that she examined every new penis she encountered. He was at least twenty years older than any of her previous lovers and she took note of the differences. Carson had a nest of gray hair creeping out from his fly and he had not groomed his pubic area. The tip of his penis came to rest against the slight overhang of his stomach.

She gave the head of his penis a quick kiss and slid his now engorged stiffness back into his boxers. She reached up under his buttocks, gripped his pants and underwear, and pulled them down past his knees. Carson laid with his back on the bed and his eyes closed but managed to shift his weight to help her with the process.

Now, free of encumbrances, Susan took a closer look. She cupped his low-hanging testicles gently in her left hand while grabbing his shaft in her right. His scrotum had more laxity than others she had seen. She again marveled at the smoothness of his shaft and the tightness of its skin. She noticed the slight color variances along the erection about a half inch below the bulbous helmet. She gave each testicle a gentle kiss and then traced her tongue up the full length of the straining shaft. The tip of her tongue swirled around the head before she engulfed it with her mouth and sucked.

Carson let out a second audible gasp.

She felt his hand lightly on the back of her head. Encouraged, Susan moved up and down with a smooth, slow, rhythm. Her tongue pressed against the penis head with each downward movement and she sucked just a little bit harder as she finished each upward cycle. Susan held tightly to the base of the shaft and let her fingers dance over Carson's scrotum. Again she felt him twitch.

There was something about having a man in her mouth and her hand wrapped around his testicles that excited and empowered her in a way nothing else could. Her own body responded with a release of lubricant to her genitals.

After two or three minutes, she felt Carson sit up on the bed and he gently pulled her away from her focus of attention. She looked into his eyes and saw unadulterated desire.

A new release of vaginal lubrication flowed.

Carson was pulling her to her feet and then clawing at her clothes. She reached to the ceiling with both hands as Carson pulled her blouse over her head. He discarded it on the floor and buried his face in her cleavage. She could hear him breathe in deeply. He reached behind her, undid the three clasps of her bra, and then pressed on her back forcing her into him.

She shook her bra free from her breasts and it fell to the floor.

Carson leaned back and studied the form before him. She really was exquisite. Her waist was tight and smooth. The outlines of her rib cage could be seen below her breasts. And what breast they were—full, swaying, and dotted with quarter-sized ruby areolas from which pink nipples erupted. A gold necklace with a cross at the end was caught in her cleavage. His eyes followed the gold chain to the curve of her neck and then upward to her chin and flawless face.

She look down at him. Her short blond hair partly obscured her forehead and she tucked it behind her ears.

There was want in her crystal blue eyes.

She bent down and kissed his lips. Hers were soft and parted easily by his tongue. The tips of their tongues played together until she parted hers farther and invited the rest of his available tongue into her mouth. He accepted the invitation.

She felt and looked so good to him. Thirty year-old memories of making love to young women came flooding back: the vigor; the abandon; the sense of being alive and unencumbered by responsibilities; simply living in the moment, secure in his own ability to perform and in his attractiveness.

He committed to taking full advantage of this opportunity.

Carson continued to kiss Susan passionately. He reached to her waist and found the clasp of her slacks. He made quick work of it and the short zipper beneath it. His finger encountered the silk fabric of her panties. With both hands he eased her pants and panties over the smooth roundness of her buttocks and let them slip to her ankles. With their mouths still engaged, he ran this hand from her inner left knee upward until the flesh of her thighs came together. She stepped through one pant leg opening and separated her feet a few more inches encouraging Carson to continue his hand movement upward to the V at the top of her legs.

Tentatively, savoring the moment, Carson stroked Susan's outer labia with his fingers. It felt like velvet and he realized she was free of pubic hair. This increased his excitement.

He ran his middle finger along the vertical crease of her lips until her body architecture curved horizontally. There, he probed with his finger tip and found what he was hoping for: the viscous moisture of a sexually aroused woman. He prospected further and his finger was enveloped by the soft folds of her vagina.

This time, it was Susan that gasped.

Carson moved his middle finger in and out slowly and rhythmically. His movements soon created a squishy sound that enhanced his excitement. After a moment, he penetrated her with two fingers and curled them, searching for the roughened spot tucked up under her pubic arch. Susan emitted another small gasp when he touched there.

She broke their kiss. "I want you inside me. Now. Do you have a condom?"

Her voice shocked Carson back to reality. Birth control was something he had not given any thought to in at least a decade. He fumbled out a disappointed, "No."

"Good thing I came prepared," Susan said with a twinkle in her voice. She went quickly to the table, opened her purse and pulled out a single condom. "Unfortunately, I just brought one."

"Unfortunately, that's all we'll need," Carson responded with a rueful smile.

Susan climbed onto the bed as Carson fully removed the rest of his clothing. They laid there naked, face-to-face, his hand resting on her left hip. She pushed his right shoulder with her left hand until his back rested fully on the mattress. She tore open the condom and with practiced hands rolled it down his erection.

Task completed, Susan swung her left leg over his torso, reached down to his twitching penis, and inserted it easily and deeply inside her.

They gasped in unison.

Susan was bent forward and her breasts were tantalizingly close to Carson's face. He raised up slightly and took her right breast as fully as he could into his mouth. He found her nipple with his tongue and swirled over and around it.

Susan sat up straight, causing her breast to fall from his mouth. She tilted her shoulders back and began to ride him, her breasts rising and falling with each sway of her hips.

Carson watched intently, wanting to never forget this vision. The force of Susan's ride became more intense and her buttocks rose off of his pelvis causing Carson to almost, but not quite, fall out of her. Carson thrusted upward to meet her downward movements. He grabbed the outside of her fleshy thighs and held on. He watched attentively as his penis disappeared and reappeared from her vagina.

He noticed that she had a star-shaped birthmark high on her inside right thigh.

How apropos, he thought, because she is a fucking star.

A minute passed then the cycles came quicker as did their breaths. Her face tightened. Seven, eight, nine, thrusts and Carson felt his testicles tense. It felt like his penis head was going to explode.

And it did. Once, twice, three times with ferocity and then two more times with less conviction. He grunted with each explosion; she moaned in unison.

Susan collapsed into his arms. Both of their chests were heaving. Carson held tight to her, afraid that she would move and cause pain to his now incredibly sensitive penis head. She knew better and laid still for several seconds.

They remained conjoined for several minutes as their breathing normalized. Carson felt his penis soften until only the tip remained inside Susan. He was worried that the condom would fall off. Susan must have felt it too because she rolled over and allowed him to flop out of her. She removed the condom from his penis and placed it in the nearby trash can. She then returned to put her head on his shoulder and press into him, the full length of her body resting against him.

Her hand wandered down to his pelvis and she confirmed what he had already told her: One condom would be enough for tonight.

Carson really was a pretty nice guy and, for an old man, a pretty good lover, Susan thought to herself. Hope he enjoyed his million dollar lay.

The depositions went as scheduled on Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesday night Team Big Dick took Gemini Pharmaceuticals representatives out for dinner. Carson avoided any alone time with Susan by preparing for the Thursday depositions after they returned to the hotel. Susan didn't seem to mind. Thursday evening they all flew home and slept in their own beds.

Susan got into her office mid-morning on Friday. She hoped to only work a half day and take time over the weekend to write up her sexual harassment claim against Mr. Carson and the firm. She had saved their text messages from the trip and forwarded a copy to her personal computer. She hoped that she could bolster her claim by being able to describe some a unique genital feature of Carson, a la Michael Jackson, but other than a slight leftward curve when erect, there was nothing of note. Still, the text messages exalting loyalty to firm—i.e., silence about their affair-and his own concerns about reputation should be enough.

Entering her office, Susan saw an envelope marked, "confidential" on her chair. She opened it quickly:

"When you get in, please come see me at once."

It was signed Nancy Blanch, HR director.

Susan took the envelope and walked down the hallway to Blanch's office. Blanch motioned her in and told her to close the door.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about the business trip, Ms. Jackson?"

Wow. How could she know? Did Carson sense something was up and already tell Blanch of their tryst? Could she really be so lucky? Did Blanch want to negotiate her million dollar exit?

"I was going to talk to you on Monday. But yes; inappropriate things did happen, I'm sorry to say."

"Well, I am glad you admit it. That makes things easier. You're fired. Here is your last paycheck. You are being paid through today. Pack up your personal belongings and I will escort you from the building. Be sure to leave your parking pass on the desk with your elevator key."

"What? Wait. I'm being fired? For what?"

"For sexual harassment of B. Wright Gates, Jr. He was in here this morning and made an official complaint about your actions during the trip. He said you forced him to sleep with him if he wanted to continue to keep working with you on the pharmaceutical case. We warned you and all the other associates not to get into a personal relationship with staff personnel."

"B. Wright Gates?! Are you kidding me? I wouldn't sleep with that guy if my life depended on it. I never threatened him."

"He showed me the text messages from his phone—a phone assigned to him by the firm and that is official firm property. You implicitly threatened him if he did not show his quote loyalty unquote to you."

Susan's head was spinning. What was going on? Those text messages didn't involve B. Wright. How had her plan gone so out of control?

"He says I forced him to sleep with me?"

"Yes. He even said you have a unique birthmark near your genitals that he can describe if it comes to that.

"So here's the deal. I have two envelopes here. The first one contains a paycheck through today. It is yours to take with you. The second one contains a check for two more weeks pay. Sign this release acknowledging you have no claims against the firm and that check is yours as well.

"If you sign the release, I will give you this letter of recommendation that says you did fine work but, because of one indiscretion that was not client related, we had to part ways. If you don't sign the release, you don't get the second paycheck and we will tell any prospective employers exactly the circumstances surrounding your termination."

Susan stood with her mouth agape. Her legal career was toast, at least in this town.

After thirty seconds or so she knew she had been set-up but she didn't know why. She thought about how she could prove her claim against Ben Carson without the text messages. She came up empty. There was no "stained blue dress" like with Bill Clinton and, absent the slight curvature of his penis which most men had in her experience, Carson had no distinguishing characteristics she could identify.

But why? Why would he set her up? She hastily signed the release, took both paychecks and the letter of recommendation and accompanied by Blanch walked down to her office to gather her belongings.

On the way she looked briefly into Carson's office. He wasn't in but she noticed a new picture on his bookcase. Over Nancy's protestation, she went over to the picture and studied it.

It was a picture of the University of Arkansas Delta Mu fraternity pledge class of 1980. Front row, on the right, seated next to each other were Ben Carson and James Smith, founding member of Henley Smith, her old employer. That explained everything.

She had to admit, they really did value loyalty.

But why such a ruse just to get her in the sack?

She scanned the rest of the photo. Bile rose in her throat when she recognized one other person in the picture, Bob Francis, her financial consultant. She raced down to her office, grabbed her purse and threw her parking pass and elevator pass on her desk.

She hurried to the elevator and pressed the lobby button repeatedly. As the elevator descended she fumbled for her cell phone. When the doors opened, she scurried outside and checked for cell reception. She pressed the contact number for Francis.

"Bob Francis. Can I help you?"

"Mr. Francis, this is Susan Jackson. About six months ago I invested approximately $600,000 with you."

"Yes, hello Ms. Jackson. Of course I remember you. What can I help you with?"

"I need to liquidate my funds into cash."

"Ms. Jackson, pursuant to your call two weeks ago, we shorted your position on those oil futures. Your decision has not panned out well. I'm sorry to report that the $600,000 is now $50,000. If you'd like to liquidate it, we can. I just need you to fill out some forms."

"I didn't call you two weeks ago! You fucking asshole!"

"Yes. Yes you did. I have my phone note right here where you called and directed me to take a short position on the oil futures with your funds. You being a smart lawyer and all, I couldn't talk you out of it. That's how I remember it and that's what my computer notes from two weeks ago say."

Susan sat down on the sidewalk and began to cry.

Later that afternoon Ben Carson called B. Wright Gates, Jr., into his office and handed him an envelope containing one hundred $100 bills.