by Violet Heart
When he returned to the office, Melony didn't acknowledge his presence. Her printer spewed pages, her scanner hummed as it digitized a legal document, her fingers flew over her keyboard in answer to an e-mail, and she had the handset of her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. He shook his head. The woman was amazing. A doggie bag at the far end of her desk let him known she had eaten lunch, so he left her to her work and went to his office to check his own e-mail.
While his computer booted, he saw Stewart pass his open door and stop at Melony's desk. The short, white-haired attorney knocked on her overhead bin then crossed his arms over his chest while she ended her call. "When I need you, I expect you to stop what you're doing," said the older lawyer.
"Yes, sir," she said, swiveling in her chair to face him. "What can I do for you, Stewart?"
"I need the name of the doctor who diagnosed John Jones with cancer."
"One moment and I'll pull that information up for you." She swiveled around and began typing.
"What, are you an idiot?" the older man bellowed.
Rage set Chip on fire and he stood so fast he sent his chair into the credenza behind his desk.
Stewart continued in his tirade. "I thought you knew this stuff off the top of your head. What good are you, anyway?"
"The doctor's name is Sangara. Looks like the report was generated out of City General but the pathology came from Lab Corp. Anything else I can get for you?" She sounded so calm.
Chip wished he could see her face. Before he could reach the door to give Stewart what for, however, the short tyrant had gone. Chip closed his door and sat, intending to call the asshole. But Melony came in carrying a notepad and pen.
"I'm here to take that letter you requested, Mr. Albemarle," she announced loudly. "What's that? Close the blinds? Yes, sir." She closed the door then blocked the staff's view into his office. At his desk, she put the pad and pen on the corner of his desk and stepped out of her shoes. "I have absolutely had it," she said through gritted teeth. "Stewart was the last straw. If I don't get some relief, I'm going to explode."
"Excuse me?" He blinked.
She slid onto his desk and raised her feet to the arms of his chair. Her skirt slid from her bent knees to her hips, revealing her slit. His body stiffening in response. "Christ, Melony, you're not wearing underwear."
"This dress shows panty lines. Touch me."
He couldn't want anything more. Her deep pink folds glistened with wetness, open for his scrutiny and begging for his caress. "Anyone could come in. The door doesn't lock," he said, his voice tight with need.
"They'll knock first. Please. I need you."
Did she say she needed him? God, his dick pressed against his pants. He cast a tentative look at the door.
"Please," she whispered and closed her eyes.
He stared at her beckoning slit and wanted to bury himself in her so badly it hurt. It was completely out of the question. This would have to do. He grasped her inner thighs and she sighed.
"Yes. Touch me," she groaned.
He dipped his thumb in the juices flowing from her opening and she gasped. Running his thumb along her slit, he found her clit and gave it a nudge. Her head fell back. Adding his other thumb to the play, he massaged her hot, slick lips and grazed his nails against her tender inner tissue. Her breaths came in pants.
Her clit jutted from its soft bed of flesh, and he grasped it with both fingers. She arched and held her breath. Reaching up, he pressed her knees wider. Her musky excitement wafted to his nostrils and he bent to give her lick.
"Yes. Yes."
He stroked her with his mouth, loving her sweet taste and the smooth feel of her engorged folds. Pressing slowly, he coated a finger in her juices and slid it into her puckered bottom. She gasped.
He took her hard nub between his lips and gave the bud a suck. She bucked against his mouth and he nearly came. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on bringing her to orgasm. Sucking and nibbling, he worked her swollen slit and thrust his finger in and out of her ass until she shuddered and slumped across the desk.
"That was incredible," she murmured.
He smiled and rubbed his cock through the fabric of his slacks. He lowered her feet from the chair arms and covered her thighs with the dress. "Feel better?"
"You have no idea," she said with a sigh. "What makes you so special that you get blinds to separate you from the staff?"
"Nothing."
She rubbed her bare foot along the slacks covering his outer thigh. "None of the other attorneys have them. Not even the partners."
He shrugged. "Maybe they never thought to requisition a set."
A knock on the door gave them only a second before the doorknob turned. In a blink, Melony leapt from the desk, got her shoes on, and picked up the pad and pen. "I'll get this typed. It should be ready for your review in about five minutes, Mr. Albemarle."
He could only nod, not trusting his voice as the personnel manager came into the office. "I'm sorry for interrupting," Debra said, not looking sorry in the least.
"You're not interrupting," said Melony in a singsong tone. "We just finished."
Chip wiped his mouth, hoping the manager hadn't already noticed the moisture. "Come on in," he said, proud he managed a professional tone.
At the doorway, Melony turned and mouthed, "Thanks," before retreating to her desk.
Yeah, you're welcome, but what about me? He scooted closer to his desk, hiding his tented trousers from the approaching woman.
Chapter 19
Melony couldn't wait to get home. She didn't care what they had for dinner, as long as eating took place after they got each other off. She had thought her earlier visit to his office would get her through the rest of the day, but it only whetted her appetite. On the elevator ride to the garage, she could only think about his mouth on her pussy.
In the car, he turned to her. "You owe me. Big time."
"I sure do," she agreed, bubbling with anticipation. "And you're about to get payment."
"Here? In the car?" He sounded hopeful.
She gave it consideration for a moment then decided against. "It'll be more comfortable in bed."
"You're right. Don't speed, but hurry."
She smiled. "Maybe after we have our fun then eat dinner, we could break out the ropes again?"
"Uh, no."
She laughed and headed out of the garage. At her apartment, she went straight to her room while Chip prepared the sofa bed. The answering machine light blinked at her from the corner table, so she hit play and listened while she got undressed. Only one message waited.
"Miss Calloway, this is Deputy Hardaway from the sheriff's department. The information I have is of a nature that I can't leave it on your machine. Please give me a call this evening on my cell phone—555-6800. This is very important, so please don't delay."
Frowning, she dropped her dress into her dirty clothes hamper and shrugged into her robe. She picked up the cordless phone next to the answering machine, but it beeped at her. Out of charge. She must have put it crooked on the charger last time she used it. Making sure it went on straight this time, she went to the kitchen.
"That was quick," said Chip from the sofa as he tucked the corners of a fitted sheet over the mattress.
"I've got to make a call."
For a second, she thought about putting it off. He had removed his jacket and tie, and his unbuttoned shirt flashed glimpses of sexy bare chest and abs. He looked good enough to eat. The deputy had sounded adamant that she return his call as soon as she got home, however.
She dialed the number and blinked when the connection completed after a single ring.
"Miss Calloway," he said without introduction. "Thank you for calling me back as soon as you got the message. I tried to reach you at work, but your line was busy every time I called."
"No problem, deputy. What's so important?"
Chip stood straight and watched her with concern.
"Miss Calloway, I'm not su
re how to tell you this. They call this a courtesy call, but under the circumstances, I consider it more of a chore. Keith Bethson is getting released on parole tomorrow."
His words slammed her against the wall. Her legs collapsed. Sliding to the floor, she fought for breath as her heart skipped a beat. "But he got life. He wasn't eligible for parole. How could this happen?"
"I'm so sorry, Miss Calloway. It was a decision made by the governor to deal with overcrowding. Anyone who'd served at least five years of their sentence became eligible."
"How could they? Didn't they take into consideration the nature of the crimes these prisoners committed? This just…"
Chip arrived at her side and squatted. She put a staying hand on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Miss Calloway. His release time is three o'clock. You have the right to request police protection for the first twenty-four hours if you live alone."
"I'm not alone right now." Though she hadn't felt this alone in a long time.
"Then keep an eye out and take precautions. After nine years in the penitentiary, he's bound to have learned his lesson and will leave you alone. I'm sure everything will be fine."
"I'm glad you're sure," she said, suddenly so angry she trembled. "Because I'm not."
"You've got my number, Miss Calloway. Call me if you have any questions. Okay?"
"Thank you, Deputy Hardaway," she barely managed.
Chip took the phone from her and put it in the wall cradle. Squatting again, he asked, "What happened? All the color's drained from you."
She stared at him for a moment, shivering so much she had trouble focusing on his handsome face. Though part of her hadn't wanted to tell him about her past, part of her trusted him. Yearned to confide in him. Circumstances out of her control made this the time to talk. Made this the time to go through those boxes.
"I'm going to put some sweats on," she said, letting him help her to her feet.
He leaned close and placed a hand on her quaking shoulder. "Did you get bad news?"
"The worst." Moisture swam across her vision. She blinked against her weakness.
"Won't you tell me? You can trust me."
"You were curious about what's in those boxes." She grimaced. He would leave when he learned the truth. She shook more.
"Yeah. Is that what this is about?" When she didn't answer right away, he said, "Damn it, Melony. Talk to me. You look like you're about to pass out."
"I'd like you to see what's in those boxes."
"Now?" He gave her in incredulous look.
"Yes, now." She closed her eyes and took a bracing breath. "Something's happened, but I need a minute. Can you bring the boxes to the living room?"
"You bet. You want me to make something to eat?"
"I couldn't eat right now if I wanted to." She went to her room and curled on the bed in the fetal position. She shook violently. How could they let that monster free? Keith Bethson. She hadn't allowed herself to think about that name in years.
As much as she dreaded it, she wanted to do this. She needed to go through those documents, those pictures, those videos. She wanted to do it with Chip. She'd received those boxes from her lawyer's office to save them from destruction, but hadn't found the courage to face the contents. Chip made her feel safe, though. With him by her side, she could do it.
She rolled off the bed and swapped her robe for clean, white sweats and socks. In the living room, Chip waited in his own gray sweats. The boxes sat in a stack next to the couch, the bed put away. "Do you want some wine? Or coffee?" he asked.
"No, thanks. I just want to get this over."
He nodded. "Where do you want to start?"
Taking a deep breath, she read the labels on the box ends. "This one, first," she said, pointing to the third box in the stack. She sat cross-legged on the floor.
He pulled the box out and set it in front of her then sat at the other side. She loved that he took this seriously, his expression solemn and respectful, but open.
Removing the lid, she gazed into his eyes and began, "When I was seventeen, something really bad happened. A man named Keith Bethson broke into my bedroom one night, tied me to my bed, gagged me, and tortured me for six hours. I almost died." She couldn't believe how calm she sounded.
"My God, Melony." He leaned away, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Putting his hand on hers, he didn't say more. His features went calm but serious, and he simply waited for her to continue.
She had expected to find his horror repulsive. Instead, it reassured her. What she went through meant something to him. "He cut me." Her voice quavered. "All over. In some places, he actually flayed off inch-wide strips. He was so angry. I passed out a lot, and he revived me so he could keep going."
"I can't believe this. No, I can, but my God. Why was he so angry?" asked Chip.
"He told the police it was because his girlfriend left him for somebody else. I never believed that. I don't know what made him so mad, but it was something bigger, deeper than a break-up." She sifted through files in the box and pulled out an eleven-by-fourteen black and white photograph.
Glancing at it, she was amazed it didn't have the overwhelming effect she thought it would. She handed it to Chip, and his face went white.
She took a huge breath. "The paramedics were afraid to move me, even take the bindings off until a doctor came. It gave the police a chance to take these pictures. This is how my parents found me the next morning. I was gagged and unconscious. I'd lost so much blood. I had three doctors tell me they couldn't believe I survived that much blood loss."
He whispered, "I can't believe my eyes. I mean, he mutilated you. I've seen you naked. You're perfect."
"Three years in and out of hospitals, five specialists, and seven reconstructive surgeries. I was angry and bitter for a long time. I sort of fell apart. Lost myself. I was thinking about committing suicide when I met Kathy. That was a year ago. She doesn't know what happened to me, but she knows I've had trauma at the hands of a man. She offered me a chance to get back in a healthy way. You know, emotional revenge without harming anyone. All the guys I've dominated wanted it. Still, I never did get into inflicting pain as much as some would have liked. I lost my first partner because I wouldn't hurt him enough."
"Damn. Do you know why Keith Bethson picked you?"
She shook her head. "I don't think even he did. Intentionally select me, I mean. The police detective told me I was a random victim. Keith Bethson happened to be near my high school when class let out for the day. I lived three blocks away, so I always walked home. He followed and waited until night. That's all they could get out of him." She pointed at the bottom three boxes. "Those are copies of all the police records my lawyers obtained for trial evidence. It took them three months to find him and bring him into custody."
"Wow. Three months. That must have been a nightmare for you—knowing he was still free all that time." He put the picture on the floor, facedown.
Melony shook her head. "I was in the hospital the whole while. Pain medication kept me pretty much oblivious. My dad was out of his mind. My mom wouldn't even visit me. It's weird, but they ended up going through more psychiatric counseling than I did."
"I imagine the guilt must have been downright disabling," he suggested. "I can't even imagine how I would feel if something like that happened to my daughter, in my house, practically right under my nose."
She looked at him with new respect. "Yeah, now that you put it like that. I guess I never thought about it, but you're right. I've been so lost in darkness all these years, I haven't really considered what they went through."
He offered her a watery smile. "Completely understandable."
She pulled a VHS tape out of the box. "This is the trial. Would you watch this with me?"
"No question. Hand it here." He went to the entertainment center and set up her old VCR.
"Just to warn you, I was still pretty scarred. My lawyers had me wear short sleeves and a skirt so the jury could see. I was a wreck being i
n the same courtroom with that guy. I don't know how I got through it." Sitting next to her lawyer, she had suffered through a throbbing headache that had made her think her brain would explode.
"How old were you at trial?" He helped her from the floor, and they sat together on the couch. He put his arm around her and pulled her into his side.
Surrounded by his warm embrace, she didn't dread watching the video. "Nineteen. It took my attorneys two years to put my case together."
"Why so long? Seems like a pretty black and white case to me." He kissed her hair.
"It was, but they wanted him away forever. They tried to get him a death sentence, but the judge wouldn't go there. So he got life."
He watched the tape with her, not saying a word. When she took the stand on the tape, Chip tightened his arm around her and kissed her hair again. The tape ended, and he said, "That wasn't very long. Your case was so strong. How long did it take?"
She pulled out of his embrace. "Pre-trials lasted a couple months, but I didn't have to attend those. The actual trial only lasted two days. The jury came back right away with their decision." Trembling uncontrollably, she said, "That telephone call this evening was with a deputy. Keith Bethson is being released on parole tomorrow afternoon."
"What?" He stood and marched across the room. "You didn't know about this? Didn't you get a notice about his parole hearing?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, they sent a notice to my parents' house and my dad called me. We both decided it didn't matter because his sentence made him ineligible for parole. I didn't know about the overcrowding and the governor's stupid solution. I don't understand how they can let a criminal like him out after what he did."
Chip crossed his arms over his chest. "I wish you had called your lawyer. He would have advised you to take that picture to the parole hearing. Anybody who'd do what he did isn't human."