“So, that means I should appeal? Do you think I could win this thing?”
“I think you could go back to law school and f**king pay attention.” I scoffed. “Either that, or do your clients a favor and find them a better lawyer.”
“You mean someone like you?”
“There’s no one like me.” I slid a pair of shades over my eyes. “But anyone would be better than you.”
“Are you always this rude to your opponents, Mr. Hamilton?” She cracked a smile. “I mean, I’ve heard stories, but you are really—”
“Really what?”
“Intriguing.” She stepped closer. “You are really intriguing.”
I blinked and looked her over. If I’d met her on Date-Match she might’ve been worthy of one night, but I never mixed business with pleasure.
At least, I didn’t used to.
“I’m not sure if you’re seeing anyone or not,” she said, lowering her voice, “but I think you and I have a lot in common, and—”
“What exactly do we have in common, Miss Kline?”
“Well...” She stepped even closer and rubbed my shoulder. “We were both staring at each other during the hearing, we both have high profile careers, and we both have a passion for the law—a passion that could clearly be transferred to other things.” She licked her lips. “Right?”
I stepped back. “Miss Kline, I was staring at you during the hearing because I was trying to comprehend how someone could show up to court and be so unprepared, unprofessional, and utterly annoying. We do both have high profile careers, but if you continue presenting cases like the one you presented today, I’ll be interviewing you for a secretary position at my firm within the next six months.” I ignored her gasp. “And if your passion for the law is anything like the way you f**k, then you and I have absolutely nothing in common.”
“Did you...” She shook her head, stepping back as her face reddened. “Did you really just say that to me?”
“Did you really just proposition me for sex?”
“I was simply probing—seeing if you were interested in going out.”
“I’m not,” I said—noticing that I wasn’t even the slightest bit aroused. “Am I free to leave the courtroom now or would you like to probe me for something else?”
“You are an ass**le!” She spun around and grabbed her briefcase off the floor. “You know, for your clients’ sake, I hope you’re a lot nicer.” She spat out as she left the room.
I wanted to tell her that I actually wasn’t nicer to my clients. I didn’t put up with bullshit from anyone, and since I hadn’t lost a single case since moving to Durham, I didn’t have to.
Looking at my watch, I figured I’d wait a few minutes before leaving. I didn’t want to run into her in the parking lot, and since the remaining courts were adjourning for lunch, I figured I’d wait a while.
I stuffed my hands into my pocket and smiled at lacy fabric that grazed my left hand. Pulling it out, I smiled at Aubrey’s black thong from this morning.
I took my phone out of my briefcase to text her about it, but she’d emailed me first.
Subject: Wet Panty Fetish
I’m not sure if you’ve realized that I left my thong in your pocket yet, but I want you to know that I did it for your own good, and that your secret is safe with me.
Ever since you f**ked me in the bathroom at the art gallery, I’ve noticed that you have a tendency to stare at my panties before taking them off.
You run your fingers across them, pull them off with your teeth, and then you stare at them again. I have no problem continuing to appease your panty fetish. I’m sure you place them over your face at night, and if you ever need more feel free to let me know.
Aubrey
Subject: Re: Wet Panty Fetish
I did realize that you slipped your thong into my pocket this morning. I’ve noticed that you’ve done this all week.
Contrary to your unfounded and silly assumptions, I do not have a panty fetish and I do not sleep with them over my face at night. I do, however, have a new fetish for your pu**y, and if you’re interested in letting me sleep with THAT over my face at night, feel free to let me know.
Andrew
I waited for a response—watched my screen for several minutes, but then I realized it was Wednesday and she wouldn’t see my email until later.
I made my way outside and slipped into my car. I didn’t feel like going back to the firm—my case files were all up to date, and it was too early to go home.
Revving up my car, I coasted down the street in search of a decent bar. As I was turning past the law school, I noticed Duke’s dance hall across the street.
I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I made a right turn and pulled into the parking lot. I followed the signs that read “Dance Studio” and parked in front.