Hard Lawyer

by Liam Foster

  “Where were we?” Kim says. She tries to shake her hands free of my grasp, but that goes about as well as you’d expect. “I don’t need hands,” she continues, ducking her head down to my crotch.

  I quickly lift her to her feet. “Out. Now.”

  My anger must be clear this time, because her face turns sour and she storms out of the office as if I were the one who hit on her, not the other way around.

  I’ll probably regret that later tonight when I’m in bed unable to sleep because of a rock-hard erection throbbing between my legs.

  Still, it’s always better to play the long game. I can have blonde bimbos any night of the week. I’ve got my eye on something a lot more appetizing.

  Chapter Three

  Kara

  Please be in bed, please be in bed.

  I open my apartment door to find my younger sister very much still awake. It’s one in the morning and I’m exhausted. If I had my way I’d go straight to sleep without even cleaning my teeth or getting undressed, however Samantha—

  “Hey sis, how was work?”

  —likes to talk. “It was fine. What are you doing up so late?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. Surely it can’t take that long to clean a law office?”

  “They were having a party. I stayed until the end to tidy up.”

  “Lawyers having a party. I bet that was fifty shades of boring.”

  “I wish it was,” I reply under my breath.

  “Do I detect gossip?”

  “You always detect gossip,” I reply. “Not everything needs to be made into a scandal.”

  “But in this case…”

  I sigh. “In this case, I walked in on a partner getting a blow job. Or he was about to anyway. Or maybe they’d just finished. I don’t know.”

  “Holy shit. Guess I’m not giving lawyers enough credit.”

  “Or too much,” I reply. I turn away from Samantha before she notices my cheeks blushing red. Before walking in on Damon, I spent twenty minutes fantasizing about him having his way with me. The look in his eyes… I’d been so sure he wanted me. I even went to the effort of not bending over in front of him to act ladylike. I needn’t have bothered. Clearly, I’m not his type. He was probably only staring at me like that to get me out of his office before his blonde bitch showed up.

  I didn’t see much of her, but I know the type. She’s obvious: blonde hair, firm breasts, skinny, toned thighs, and slutty. She’s probably tall as well, although it was hard to tell with her on her knees. She’s everything I want to be, and everything I’m not.

  John warned me that Damon was a player, but I didn’t want to believe him. Or maybe I did, I just wanted to think he’d choose to play with me. I’d have settled for being a bit of fun on the side. I’ve not had fun of any kind in a while.

  “Kara? Wakey, wakey?”

  “Huh?”

  “You were daydreaming.”

  “Sorry, I’m tired.” I force a yawn for effect.

  “Uh huh. You were thinking about it weren’t you.”

  I pour myself a glass of water to make sure she can’t see my face. “Thinking about what?”

  “The blowie you walked in on. Was he big?”

  Almost certainly. “I didn’t see anything like that. And I’d rather not think about it.”

  “Fine. What was the name of the firm again?”

  I give her the name and drink the water. It does nothing to cool me down. Is it hot in here? Samantha’s wearing a sweater, so I guess it’s just me.

  “Is his name Damon?” Samantha asks, just when I think she’s gone quiet.

  “Uh, yeah, I think that was it,” I pretend to remember, as if his name isn’t etched onto my memory. Damon Caldwell. Young Lawyer of the Year 2012, and sex on legs.

  “Fuck, he’s hot.”

  “How the hell…” I look over at Samantha’s laptop and see Damon’s law firm biography—complete with picture—on the screen. It’s only a headshot, but it’s impossible to deny that he’s good looking. Okay, better than good looking. He looks like someone who used to be a male model in his early twenties, except he’s now matured and looks even better for it.

  “So this guy’s your boss?”

  “Not really,” I reply. Samantha is entranced with the picture which at least means she can’t see me blushing. “His firm hired the cleaning company I work for.”

  “He could boss me around any day he likes.”

  I believe her. Samantha might be two years younger than me, but she’s far more confident when it comes to getting what she wants from men.

  “It was inappropriate,” I say firmly. “He’s fucking one of his employees.”

  “That just makes it hotter. I’m sure she was more than willing.” Samantha does some more searching online and comes up with some full body shots. “Wow. He’s packing.”

  “He has a gun?” I ask, leaning in to stare at the pictures.

  “Another type of powerful weapon.” She points at his crotch on a picture that appears to have been taken when he was a guest speaker at a corporate function.

  There’s a definite bulge, I can’t deny that. Okay, he’s good looking and has a big cock; so what? He’s also an arrogant asshole who fucks his employees at the office party. He’s hardly a model citizen.

  “He’s well endowed,” I admit. “He’s also a giant dick in the personality department from what I can tell. I plan to stay out of his way.”

  “Fine,” Samantha says, holding up her hands. “I won’t say another word on the subject.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  “No but. However, we’re going shopping tomorrow.”

  “What for?”

  “You need new clothes for work. That skirt is years old and the sweater has holes in it.”

  “I’m a cleaner. I’m not going to wear nice clothes while I scrub a toilet.”

  “You never know who you might bump into at work.”

  Samantha closes her laptop and finally heads to bed. I stay up for another thirty minutes until I’m sure she’s asleep and enjoy ten minutes of ‘me time’ to relax before drifting off to sleep.

  He’s in his office.

  It’s 9 pm and the light is still on. If I stand very still by the door I can hear him fidget in his chair, shuffle papers on his desk, and type on his keyboard. He’s the only one in the entire office. It’s just me and him.

  I could go in.

  Cleaners can come and go as they please. No one notices us. I could knock on the door, walk into his office, and empty the trash without the two of us exchanging a single word.

  Is that what I want? To be ignored?

  Yes and no. It’s always nice to get attention from a man like Damon, but it’s obvious he’s not worth my time. He has a reputation for a reason. John warned me, and the little run in the other night really hammered it home.

  I place my hand on the doorknob.

  I’m just a cleaner. He doesn’t give a shit about me. I’m going to walk in there and he’s not going to so much as look at me.

  And yet… and yet I can’t stop thinking about the alternative. He might look at me. He might stare at me as I walk around his office. He might command me to come over. He might reach out and touch me.

  I let go of the doorknob.

  Not today.

  Chapter Four

  Damon - Two Weeks Later

  Her name’s Kara.

  It suits her.

  I’ve stayed late every night for the past two weeks and I’ve only ever caught glimpses of her in the hallways. That shouldn’t be possible. It’s like she’s a ghost haunting the building. I begin to think I’m imagining her, but the building is getting cleaned by someone.

  She’s avoiding me. She comes into my office every night to empty the trash can and clean the desk. Without fail, she times it for the few minutes when I’ve popped to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee or gone to the bathroom for a piss.

  I suppose I didn’t ma
ke a great first impression although it was hardly my fault. Okay, maybe a little bit. I could have ordered that blonde girl out of my office, but I try not to yell at people while at work. It isn’t a great look, especially not at a party.

  I shake my head aggressively and then rub my temples as if that will get all thoughts of Kara out of my head. Thinking about fucking the cleaner isn’t exactly conducive to reviewing sale and purchase agreements. No wonder I’m having to work late so much now. Maybe if I didn’t have to read each paragraph seven times I’d get more work done.

  Kara’s got a great ass, but my firm just won the work on a $250 million deal and it needs my attention even more than she does. The firm has never worked on a deal this big; it’s the sort of work I promised to win when I made my pitch to take over as managing partner. Now I have to deliver. The SPA has already been through three rounds of back and forth between me and the purchaser’s attorneys, so there are nowhere near as many markups on the latest version. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the remaining markups are all on areas that we can’t agree on.

  Every time I try to type out my revisions, I end up stopping after about six words, unable to continue without getting lost in my thoughts. One thought in particular. Kara.

  Fuck it. My opposite number is almost certainly working late. Might as well give him a call.

  He answers after just one ring. “Damon, what can I do for you?”

  “Hey Phil. I want to discuss this definition of ‘gross misconduct’ in the termination clause.”

  “Thought you might. I’m not an expert in that stuff, but my employment guys tell me the language we’re using is industry standard.”

  “My guys said the same thing about our proposed language.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, fair enough. What do you want to do about it?”

  “I can get my client to agree to your definition, but your client needs to agree to release some of the contingent payment early if my client were to be dismissed.”

  “So you want your client to be rewarded for being fired?”

  “He can’t help the company meet the contingencies if he’s not there. Look, we both know the company will hit those numbers easily anyway. This way, my client will be vaguely satisfied, and so will yours.”

  There’s a brief pause. “I’ll talk to my team and get back to you first thing in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Phil.”

  He’ll agree, I’m sure of it. That’s one problem sorted. There’s still a hundred more, but at least I’ve accomplished something today. The low hum of a vacuum cleaner starts up outside. Kara. She’s just a few doors down the hall.

  I step out of my office and sure enough, there’s Kara vacuuming the carpet at the far end of the hall. I stare at her for a few seconds, but she either hasn’t noticed me or is just ignoring me. Both seem equally likely.

  Hmm, I wonder if…

  I head in the other direction towards the kitchen and stop when I’m out of sight. A few seconds later, the vacuum cleaner powers down and my office door opens. I dash back to my office to find Kara hurriedly emptying the trash into a bag.

  Last time I saw her she was wearing a sensible knee length skirt and baggy top. Now she’s wearing a tight-fitting pair of white jeans and a black top which clings to her mouth-watering curves. It’s far sexier than what I’d expect a cleaner to wear and could only be topped by a kinky French maid’s outfit. Her ass is fucking phenomenal; I can’t decide whether I want to spank it or sink my teeth into it. Or perhaps both.

  She’s made an effort to dress up and yet she’s avoiding the only person in the office who can see what she’s wearing. Unless… oh crap, I bet she’s going to hit the bars with some friends after work.

  That’s why she’s dressed up. It’s not for my benefit. Not every woman is obsessed with my cock. Most of them, but not all of them.

  “Evening,” I say calmly, just as she’s about to turn around and see me anyway.

  She spins around and drops the now empty trash can on the floor. That tight fitting black top is surprisingly low cut, revealing juicy and tender breasts that I could squeeze for days.

  Kara stares at me for a couple of seconds and then bends over to pick up the trash can. She gives me a decent view of her ass this time, but only for the briefest of seconds. It was a teaser. Enough to know I need more.

  A semi is making itself known in my pants; the more I fight it, the more prominent it becomes. I quickly move around to sit behind my desk. Kara makes a beeline for the door, but I’m not done with her yet.

  “This office needs a thorough clean,” I say, as dispassionately as possible. I don’t even know what a ‘thorough clean’ entails to be honest.

  “I’m not here to tidy up after you.”

  It’s been weeks since I’ve heard her speak. I’ve missed it. Her voice fits her body perfectly. It’s sexy, but normal. She’s not trying to sound young or mature, slutty or virginal. She just sounds… perfect.

  “Excuse me,” I say sternly. “You’re a cleaner, aren’t you? I’d say tidying up falls within your job description.”

  She meets my gaze and for one sweet moment, I think she’s about to challenge me. I want her to talk back. I want to discipline her.

  “Sorry,” she replies through gritted teeth. I can tell she’s pissed at me, and she’s not great at hiding it. “I just meant that I don’t want to make a mess of all your files.”

  “I assume a cleaner can keep files tidy.”

  I’m sure I hear a quiet sigh escape her lips before she responds. “They might be confidential. I wouldn’t want to see anything I’m not supposed to see.”

  Time for a little test. Let’s see just how angry she can get.

  “It’s okay,” I reply. “You wouldn’t understand any of it anyway.” Oh yeah, definite flaring of the nostrils there. She stares at me in silence. “Don’t let me keep you from your work,” I add, motioning around the office. It doesn’t really need cleaning, but even just a couple of minutes staring at her ass will be worth it.

  I grab a court motion from the pile of papers and pretend to read it. Actually, I should read it properly given that it needs to be filed in a couple of days. For every paragraph I read, I allow myself a long look up at Kara. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. My dick’s rock hard and not even this damn motion can redirect the blood flow.

  I focus on the citations in the motion. That will kill any erection. Sure enough, I start to feel my cock soften. Thank God for case citations. I circle a few that don’t look right. A junior attorney did the citations, so it’s possible she made a couple of mistakes.

  I look around for my trusty Bluebook to find the citation rules for quoting foreign cases. The Bluebook is usually on my desk, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself. “Where is it?”

  “Can I help?” Kara asks.

  “I need to check some citations, but I can’t find the citation bible. Can you keep an eye out? It’s called the—”

  The Bluebook appears in front of me in her outstretched hand. That was quick.

  “Thanks,” I reply, as I begin thumbing through the well-worn pages. I shouldn’t still be doing this shit, but young associates always make mistakes. Besides, it’s keeping the stonking erection at bay, so it’s serving its purpose.

  One more sneaky look at Kara. She’s polishing shelves that almost certainly don’t need polishing.

  I’ve got something she can polish. Yeah, real mature Damon. Junior attorneys might not be great with citations, but at least they aren’t fantasizing about fucking the—

  Hang on. That’s odd.

  “How did you know which book to pass me?” I ask Kara.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You passed me the Bluebook without me even telling you what it looked like.”

  There’s a slight pause and her eyes flick up to the top right. Does that mean she’s thinking up a lie? Or is that when you look up and to the left? I can never remember.

>   “It’s called The Bluebook,” Kara replies eventually. “It seemed safe to assume it would be the blue one.”

  “Oh yeah, sure.” Now I feel fucking stupid. I’m so used to calling it the Bluebook that I forget it’s also a literal description of the book. What an idiot.

  Except… did I ever tell her the name of the book?

  Chapter Five

  Kara

  I’m late again. I tried to sneak in a quick visit to see Mom before work, but I underestimated the terrible traffic. I should have left earlier but it’s always tough saying goodbye; now I’m going to be late. Not that anyone will notice of course. I’m invisible. Only one person at the firm has showed me any attention and I’m doing my best to avoid him as much as possible.

  Every night, I wait for him to leave his office and then sneak in to clean quickly while he’s in the kitchen or bathroom. Then he caught me. I should be able to handle a few glances from my boss, but it’s different with Damon.

  I used to wonder why women would risk their entire careers to throw themselves at their boss. Now I know. He has an aura. He doesn’t have to speak to me or even look at me. Just being in his vicinity is enough to make me feel warm and tingly.

  Samantha noticed the glow to my cheeks when I got home the other night. She’s only ever perceptive when it comes to my sex life. I could move out of the apartment and she wouldn’t notice until the landlord started chasing the rent. However, the second I develop a tiny bit of a crush on someone, she’s the first to notice.

  Once the traffic clears up, I hit the gas and drive a little bit faster than I should to make sure I’m only ten minutes late for work. The law firm is quiet and most of the office doors are open revealing empty offices.

  All but one.

  Does he sleep here?

  I grab my supplies and start cleaning some of the empty offices while I wait for Damon to leave his office. This is stupid. I can’t do this every time he stays late in the office, but I also can’t let him treat me the way he did the other day. Just because I’m a cleaner, doesn’t mean he can treat me like shit.