Yeah, I know I’m not the world’s greatest attorney. My mind wanders. I can’t help it;
the rest of my life is too damn good.
“Good morning, your Honor.”
Judge: “So, what are the issues from the claimant’s perspective?”
Other Attorney: “Well, your Honor, the claimant......
.......The morning arrived like a subtle hint of her aroma. Fairies danced across my skin. I
woke up slowly, and rolled over in the wadded sheets, baring my legs to the muffled warmth of
the morning sun, and smiled. Motes of dust, small worlds, sparkled in the air. She -- her touch,
her fragrance, the warmth of her breath -- always it was she on my mind. She was coming over,
was on her way. There was a pit in my stomach, a good pit, not one of those dread things, but a
gathered-up rubberband ball of energy that begged for bursting. I envisioned her crotch, nervous and damp, trapped in the seat of her car like a small animal. I lay there, fondling myself, lightly tracing the ridged underside of my turgid tool, tugging on the head, feeling, feeling, feeling....The liquid sun drooled, like saliva, across my stomach, cock and upper thighs. The pressure in my bladder added a certain urgency. Should I jack off, or take a leak? It would have been easy to give a few good jerks and have cum flying all over my belly, but that’s not how I wanted the feelings to end, and I knew that she would feel cheated if she found out.....
“......agree that those are the issues?”
Me: “Huh? Oh, yes your Honor.”
Judge: “Does the employer have any cross-issues?”
“None, your Honor.”
Judge: “Does the claimant have any witnesses?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor, we call Ms. Smith.” (Pause while witness approaches
the stand)
Judge (to witness): “Please raise your right hand. Do you......”
........Pissing is such great fun. This hot stuff running like lava down the long tube,
snapping through the opening of the urethra, bursting into the air and into the toilet bowl. All the while, there is this sucking, squeezing, collapsing feeling in the gut as the bladder implodes and relaxes. Ahhh...what a liberating sensation. Reminded me of peeing on her tummy, in her wild hair, in the desert -- another story.
I knew her routine. She would take a languid shower, using the opportunity to glide her
hands through the soap on that mocha skin stretched like latex across her muscles and sinews and bones. She liked touching herself, reaffirming her internal vision of herself. She would slip her delicate fingers along her arms and legs, across her ribs and seamless, brown, buttocks. She
would cup her plump, fruity, breasts and hold them up like offerings to the feast. Her hands
would roam down her belly to her smooth pussy, teasing.......
“Objection! Calls for speculation.”
Judge: “Sustained......”
After the shower -- a long deliberate towelling, followed by a slathering of juniper-scented oil. She would stay naked until it was time to leave, looking at her lithe body in mirrors as she walked through her house, picking up clothes, feeding the cats, nervously arranging the catalogs and magazines on the end table. Finally, with seconds to go, she would throw on the barely micro-mini skirt and sheer bikini top that had been draped over the back of the couch the night before. At 10:00 a.m. she climbed into her car, toenail polish in hand. The gas pedal and brake would feel sensual on her bare feet, the air rushing into her wet hair makng her shiver, the sun on her arms and shoulders like warm butterscotch. I pictured her, wriggling in her seat, the
slickening folds of her pussy nuzzling against her anxious clitoris. I imagined the wad of nerves in her stomach expanding and aching until she pulled up to the front of my house.
The air was still and hot when I heard the scraping of her car’s brakes. (Time to change
those brake shoes, I thought). It was 10:14 am (I was counting). The sun-warmed sidewalk
caressed the bottom of her feet as she padded to the front door. I was waiting, bladder empty,
prostate primed....
Judge: “Any cross?”
Me: “Yes. Thank you. Now, Ms Smith, you didn’t witness the accident, correct?”
Witness: “No, but I heard about it.”
Me: “From your husband, correct?”
Witness: “Ummm....yes.”
Me: “The same husband who was recently released from prison after serving time for
check forgery, correct?”
Witness: Yes, but.....
Me: “That’s all I have, your Honor.”
Judge: “Any redirect?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor.........
.........Before she could knock, I opened the door and invited her in. The look on her face
was one of tentative aggression. She stood there for an awkward moment, trying not to watch
my cock jerk upward with each beat of my heart.
“It’s a medical condition,” I explained.
She stepped in. The house was shaded and cool, the morning air washing like the waxing
tide through the open double - glass doors in back. She stood just inside the door and watched
my buns leading the way into the kitchen. Michael Franks was playing in the background --
something about making love in the backyard on a hot summer’s day. I turned. My cock was
arching toward my chin. Her eyes were momentarily glued upon it. She moved quietly across the thick space between us and stood before me, her hands behind her back, her swelling breasts stretching the thin fabric that pretended to cover them......
Judge: “Anything more?”
Me: “Uhhhh....no your Honor.”
Judge (to witness): “You may step down. Counsel, another witness?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor. I’ll call the claimant.”
Judge (to witness): “You may take a seat. Please raise your.....”
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” I crooned, as I unclasped her top. She arched her back as the
material slid away from her and fell to the floor. Her breasts were ripe and full. They fell into my cupped hands, warm and weighty. The dark brown nipples jutted toward my lips. I loosened her skirt. It dropped to the floor. She stood there, gloriously naked, her legs visibly shaking, while I cradled both breasts in my hands and bent down to savor each one.... The taste was saltysweet, with a mild scent of sweat and juniper. Dionysus had nothing on me.
Still holding her breasts I kissed her lips -- small kisses, butterfly wings, tropical raindrops. I flirted with her lips, licking them (as I intended to lick all of her), thrusting the tip of my tongue into her small cock-head mouth. I squeezed and pulled on her nipples. She sucked my tongue into her mouth and arched her back, pushing her chest out, offering her naked body to me.
“Come on, I’ll show you your throne.” I took her by the hand and lead her out, through
the glass doors, into the bright backyard. Lawn chairs, a blanket, colorful flowers, oil, champagne glasses, towels -- the stage for her indulgence was set. The muffled shush of traffic in the distance, the gleeful squeals of children in the playground down the street, boats motoring out on the bay, Latin and rock music from the neighboring houses, rock doves conversing on the roof -- a white cacophony of noise -- enveloped our bodies like the subtle comfort of a favorite blanket. A slow simmer of air rippled through the palms.
“Take a seat,” I offered. “I’ll get the champagne and be right back.”
She sank into a chair and watched my ass as I walked away from her. The sun was hot at
10:30 am. Brush grass poked and warmed the soles of my feet as I left her and strode into the
kitchen. I returned with a bottle of cold champagne, my turgid cock swaying from side to side,
the dark hair on my chest reflecting the sun. I stood before her and twisted the cork out of the
bottle, then filled two glasses. After setting the bottle down, I knelt in front of her, in the grass,
and grabbed the oil. I poured it on her chest. It ran thick and warm, down her belly, pooling into
her bejewelled navel, spilling over into the naked folds of her soaking crotch. I smeared the oil
across her shoulders and down each arm. I lubricated her nipples, sliding my fingers around and
around and around. Then, down across her delicate ribcage and her glistening flat tummy I trailed my fingers. Her breathing followed the rhythym of my stroking hands, her body moved back and forth as it chased the sensation of my roaming fingers.
A thin line of oil was poured down each leg, from thigh to foot. My hands ran the length
of her strong, sensual legs until they, too, shone in the sun. My hands slid to the thick floodgates
of flesh that surround her pussy. I gently, slowly, spread the oil. The skin was baby soft, swollen, hot. Her legs parted, a little bit, a little more. Her clit peeked out, hardening, glowing like an ember. I massaged her labia, squeezing, pulling, pressing the swollen flesh. The dance was slow, to music only we could hear. No words needed to be spoken, but I knew she wanted them.
“You are a wanton little slut, aren’t you?” She nodded. “You want to be fucked hard,
don’t you?” She nodded. “You want me to grab your legs and lift them over your head and drive
my stiff cock into you until my balls slap your ass, right?” She groaned flung her legs apart, as far as they could go, opening herself to me completely, totally. A drop of clear liquid hung like a
jewel at the opening of her pussy. My fingers circled her button, close but not touching. I
caught the jewell on the tip of a finger and licked it off, chasing the pungent earthsea saltiness of it with a swig of champagne. My cock was straining in its skin, as I knelt in front of her splayed
body. A clear drop of pre-cum dropped like syrup into the grass, leaving a viscous gossamer
thread that dangled in the air, flicking with each beat of my heart......
Judge: “Any cross?”
Me (clearing throat, shifting in chair, rearranging penis): “Ummm.....Yes, your Honor.”
“You injured your back when you slipped and fell in your motel room, correct?”
Claimant: “Yes sir.”
Me: “And no one witnessed this fall, correct?”
Claimant: “No one else was in the room.”
Me (shifting again): “And you didn’t tell your employer about this incident until elk
season started, about six months later, correct?”
Claimant: “Yeah, well...well, I thought it’d just go away, but the pain just kept getting
worse.”
Me: “And the first time you saw a doctor about anything was about two months after this
fall, correct?”
Claimant: “Uhhh...well, I don’t remember when exactly.”
Me: “Well, the records indicate that you went to Dr. Hack on July 3. Does that ring a
bell?”
Claimant: “Yeah.”
Me: “And that was for a physical examination to see if you were fit for work in the
slaughter house, correct?”
Claimant: “Yeah.”
Me: “And you didn’t say anything to Dr. Hack about any low back problems, correct?”
Claimant: “I don’t recall.”
Me: “In fact, Dr. Hack said you were capable of lifting up to 100 pounds, didn’t he?”
Claimant: “I don’t recall.”
Me: “And you told Dr. Hack that you had never felt better in your whole life, correct?”
Claimant: “I don’t recall.”
Me: “You took that job at the slaughter house, correct?”
Claimant: “Yes, I’m still working there.”
Me: “Nothing further, your Honor......”
........Her breathing was deep, and her hips pressed forward, ever so slightly, each time my
fingers grazed her clit. She could have been impatient. She could have asked for my cock at any
time. But, she loved this long, langorous, teasing, this aching want. The sun blanketed our naked bodies in its rising heat. A small bead of sweat ran between her browning tits. Very slowly, I ran my fingers over the head of her clit. One ... two ... three ... four ...stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke. Then, a quick couple of flicks, back and forth across its slippery surface. She groaned and the tension began to build. I backed off --- one ... two ... three ... four .... Deliberately, measuring the magnitude of her reactions, I brought her to the edge again and again. She had to cum, to explode. It was sweetly killing her. She tried, desperately, but couldn’t spread her limbs any further apart. Her chest was heaving, deeply. Her nipples were pebbles, threatening to pop off of the hillocks of her shining breasts, sweat glimmered all over her body. I stopped....
“Take a drink,” I ordered, “and don’t spill a drop.” She looked at me, dreamily, and
reached out, weakly, for her glass. She moved it to her slighly parted lips and started to pour the
elixir into her mouth. As the sweetness began to run into her trembling mouth, I rubbed her
aching clitoris, hard and fast. Her mouth flew open, her neck muscles strained, her legs quivered
uncontrollably, and her hips lurched as wave after wave of sweet orgasm wracked her body. The wine of her body flooded out of her and she cried out, filling the still air with the music of her
ecstasy and release. The palm trees and bougainvillea soaked up the sound. Not a drop of
champagne was wasted......
Judge: “Anything more from this witness?”
Other Attorney: “Nothing, your Honor.”
Judge (to Claimant): “You may step down. Any further witnesses?”
Other Attorney: “No, your Honor. Claimant rests.”
Judge: “Any defense witnesses?”
Me (taking my hand out of my crotch, shifting in seat again): “No, your Honor, the
defense rests.”
Judge: “Are we ready for closing argument?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor. May we take a short break, first?”
Judge: “Certainly. Let’s take a ten minute break and we’ll reconvene for closing.”
Me (hand back in crotch): “Sounds fine to me......”
......I settled back and watched as she gradually recovered. She was so absolutely angelic,
with rivulets of sweat on her face and breasts, her hair flat and wet against her forehead. Her
chest was still heaving and her hips still ground into her chair. I took a sip of champagne. “Did
that feel good?” I teased. She took a sip from her glass and pierced me with her silky eyes. “I
want more,” she growled.
“Well,” I replied, “I think you ordered a shaving, if I remember correctly. I’ll be right
back.” I rose and returned to the house. Moments later I returned with a bucket of warm water, some shaving cream, a washcloth and a razor.
“Now, just relax,” I cautioned. “I don’t want to have to call 9-1-1.” Once again, I kneeled in front of her. My cock was aching. Each vein was etched in relief along its surface. It’s color was of partly-cooked meat, reddish-brown. Her torture had been, also, my torture. The plumhead was engorged, spreading wide, taut against its skin. She stared at it while I lathered up one of her legs, from crotch to ankle. Carefully, I ran the razor down her leg in long strokes, shaving it smooth. The process was repeated with the other leg. I had her move forward in the lawn chair and spread her legs wide. Her lovely peachfruit was shamelessly open before me. Every fold was thick and shining with her cum. I slathered shaving cream all over and, very carefully, shaved her labia, her pubic mound and all around her asshole. When I was finished, there was not a hair in sight. The skin was smooth as oil on rubber. I wiped her clean with the warm washcloth.
Admiring my work, I sat back and took a drink of cold champagne. Then, I bent down and sucked her clitoris into my cold mouth. The sensation sent a jolt through her body and she
groaned in approval. Champagne spilled out of my mouth and ran into her orifices, cool and
sensual. My tongue began a deliberately torturous exploration of every fold and bump and crack and hole. I licked from her ass to her clit in slow motion, my saliva mixing with her juice and the
champagne to create an intoxicating liquor. “I could spend all day doing this,” I purred.
She watched me with her deep, half-closed, eyes. “Please do,” she implored, offering her
pussy to my mouth.
She was slouched in the beach chair, her arms thrown over her head. I reached out and
played with her nipples, pulling them gently each time my tongue ran over the nub of your clit.
She nonchalantly took a long drink of champagne. “Don’t stop this,” she murmered.
By 11:30 am the sun was like a furnace. Sweat ran down my back and chest. I sprayed us both with cool water, took a sip of champagne, then returned to pleasuring her. “Ready to cum?” I asked, with a grin.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “This feels so good, I don’t want it to stop.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I smile. “I won’t make you cum too fast.” I filled her glass with champagne. I tickled her perfect butthole with my tongue, then dipped into her creamy pussy. Next, I moved up to her soaked clit. Gently, I popped it into my mouth and flicked my tongue, quickly, until your hips begin to rise and legs tighten. I stopped. She lay there, panting, on the edge. “You fucking bastard! God, that feels good!!”
I began the process over, starting with her cute little asshole and working up to her rigid
little button. Over and over, I brought her to the edge, then backed off to let her roll back. She
wanted to cum so badly, and I knew it. I had her right where I wanted her, and she knew it. And loved it.
Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. She begged, “Please do it.”
“Do what?” I teased.
“I need to cum .... please make....me ....cum,” she begged, in between short gasps.....
Judge: “Okay ---
Me (mumbling): “Damn.”
Judge: “What, counsel?”
Me (blinking, stalling, clearing throat): “Oh, sorry your Honor --- nothing.”
Judge: “Do we need to record closing?”
Me: “No, your Honor.”
Other Attorney: “Not necessary for Claimant.”
Judge: “Okay, we’re off the record then. You may proceed, counsel.”
Other Attorney: “Your Honor, Claimant was injured on.....”
“.......OK,” I mumbled, her aching clit resting on my tongue. “Pick up your glass and,
remember, don’t spill a drop.”
Obediently, she picked up her champagne. I pulled on both of her brown, oily, nipples and rolled them around in my fingers while, at the same time, I unleashed a fury of tongue flicks on her love button. Her hips rose from the chair and she thrusted her pussy to the sky. She
screamed as an enormous orgasm stole all control. Her free hand was in my hair, pulling me into
her crotch. She could hardly get her breath as convulsion after convulsion jolted her body. Her
cries were music; she was a piece of performance art.
Her head rolled from side to side as she came down. Her grapefruit-half breasts were
riding the waves of her breathing, her tight stomach was streaked with sweat and oil. I couldn’t
help but stroke my aching dick as I took in her beauty. I wanted to cum badly, to let the white
stuff stream across the folds of her pussy.
I sat in the chair next to her and took a long drink of champagne. She was silent for a
long time. The hissing and roaring traffic on the nearby freeway, and the small “chipping” chatter of hummingbirds in the flowers were the only sounds. “Damn, that was intense,” she finally sighed. “I’d swear you know just what I need.”
“I only react to your response,” I replied. “You came here to have fun, and I’m going to
make sure you have fun. Ready to have your toes painted?”
She smiled and took a gulp of champagne. “Sure.”
I rose out of my chair and kneeled in front of her, again. I took the warm washcloth and
washed the oil off her nails. Her toes were small and lovely. I sucked each one into my mouth
and ran my tongue around in circles. She watched me, sipping her wine, lazily running her fingers across your clit. After her feet were thoroughly cleaned, I blew on them until the nails were dry. Then, one by one, I painted them. She lay back in the beach chair and closed her eyes, slowly masturbating while I spread the polish evenly, from nail to nail. When I was finished I screwed the top back on the polish and refilled our glasses with the last of the champagne.
It was 12:30 by this time and the sun was cooking the juices out of us. I sprayed us with
water until we were soaked. Then, still kneeling in front of her, I pulled her hips to the edge of
the chair. She opened her legs, inviting me in. I rested the tip of my cock at the entrance of her
cum - filled pussy. Gazing into her half - open, golden, eyes, I pulled on her nipples while, inch -
by - inch, I slid deep into her. I felt like I was being swallowed. She was so tight and hot inside.
I pulled out slowly, until the head of my meat nearly dropped out of her. Her juices shone on my
pole as I slowly entered her again. I pushed until I felt her cervix brushing the tip of my cock.
We were dripping with oil and sweat. Her breath began to quicken. She stared at me, her
bedroom eyes widening. I knew she was building to another climax, and it was coming quickly.
“Take your champagne,” I ordered, “and don’t spill a drop.” Obediently, she complied.
Then, she got this sly grin on her face as I picked up speed, pumping in and out of her in long
strokes.......
Judge: “Counsel?”
Judge (again): “Counsel?”
Me (focussing, putting both hands on table): “Yes, your Honor. Let me begin by saying
that the story that has been fabricated for you is simply not borne out by the medical record.
Keep in mind that Claimant is a convicted felon, that the nature of his crime reflects directly on his credibility. Also, keep in mind that this alleged fall, in which Claimant so severely injured his back, was in a motel room and was unwitnessed. Also, note that this alleged back problem did not arise as a medical problem until hunting season started in the fall. Claimant did not report his alleged injury to his prior employer until months after its alleged occurrence. When he did see a doctor, in July, he was feeling just fine. In fact, he told the doctor he’d never felt better. He took a job working for a slaughterhouse and meat packing plant, where he is required to lift weights up to 100 pounds. This claim simply is not compensable and you should affirm the employer’s denial. That’s all I have, your Honor.”
Judge: “Thank you, counsel. Rebuttal?”
Other Attorney: “Yes, your Honor. Defense counsel........”
“......What ... oh, god .... what ... uh .... happens .... oh shit! ... when ... FUCK! ...if ...uh ... uh... I ... oh, god ... spill ... oh, FUCK! .... a drop ... Shit!!” she asked.
I grabbed her ankles and spread her legs and drove into her, holding back my cum. “Then ... I ... fill ... your ... pussy ... with a ... nice ... big ... dildo ... and I ... fill ...your ...cute ... little ...ass ... with ... my ... cock ... and I ... fuck you ... ‘til you ... scream.”
With that, she started to cum. I held her hips and ground her clit into me. She raised the
glass of champagne to her lips and, smiling wickedly, cried out with pleasure and laughed as she
poured the liquid all over her face, our wet and slippery crotches pounding together, her body
twitching like a fish on the end of a line.
“Naughty girl,” I growled into her ear as I lifted her up out of her chair, my stiff cock still
clutched deep within her pussy, and carried her into the house. Lifting her small body off my
gleaming pole, I set her on the floor, turned her around and bend her over the dining room table.
“Don’t move,” I ordered.
She waited, bent over, her oily breasts pressed against the cool table top. I returned with
the dildo and a tube of Astroglide. I set them on the table next to her, then kneeled between her
legs and spread them wide. I sucked on her pussy and drove my tongue into her holes, tasting the pungent saltiness of her body, lapping up the slickness that oozed from her. She responded by wiggling her delectable ass in my face. I took the hint and gently pressed the dildo into her pussy, as far as it would go. It filled her with its cool, smooth, soft texture. I moved it in and out of her, in short, teasing, strokes, while I opened the Astroglide and ran a stream of its viscosity down the cleavage of her tight little butt. I pulled the dildo almost all the way out and, as I slid it, slowly, back into her body, I slipped the middle finger of my other hand deep into her ass. She took a quick breath and gripped the edge of the table. Spreading her legs, she shoved her fruity bottom into the air each time I pulled my finger out.
After a few minutes of this, I gently slid two fingers up her hole, stretching and reaming
her. She sucked in her breath, but the dildo pumping in and out felt so good and, together, the
sensations made her head spin. She started to moan with each alternating thrust of dildo and
fingers. I took my fingers out. She knew what was coming next. She was open and willing and
waiting, standing there, bent over my table with her painted toenails on the cool wood floor and
your ass in the air. I drizzled a thin thread of Astroglide down the length of my cock and moved
in behind her. The tip of my penis slightly touched her ass. It was like a spark. She pressed
backward into it, wanting it inside. I pressed the head into the tight opening and pushed. She
stopped breathing. “Push out, push out, push out.” I popped past the tight ring of her asshole
and slipped inside. I stopped and waited until she was used to me. We stood perfectly still except for the finger on my hand that gently circled her bulging clitoris. With the other hand, I slide the dildo out to the end. I waited until she told me what she wanted.
“Fuck me,” she growled. “Fuck my ass and make me cum.”
“What did you say?”
I slid my dick and the dildo deep inside of her and waited.
“Fuck me, please,” she begged.
“How do you want it?”
“HARD!” she yelled.
“So, what do you want?”
“I want you to FUCK me REAL HARD!!” she yelled in near anger and frustration.
I grabbed her hips and drove into her ass, again and again, harder and harder. We were
pushing the large dining room table across the floor with each thrust. She was on her lovely
painted toes, clutching at the edge of the table, throwing her hair into the air.
“Oh god!! Yesss!!” she screamed. “Fuck me! .... Fuck me! ... stuff me with that cock ....
Cum! ... Cum! ... I ... Oh, Yesss!!! ....
I felt the power building deep within me. It felt like a dam about ready to burst. She was
outrageous in her orgasms. Her feet and arms flailed wildly, uncontrollably, and her tossed from
side to side. I drove into her like a machine. She was crying, the tears streaming out of her, as
wave after wave of sensation and emotion passed over her. She was an animal, nothing but raw
nerves and passion.
The cum boiled up inside of me. It felt like it started at my feet. It burned through my
cock and erupted into her ass with such force that I was left weak. I was delirious as I pumped
load after creamy load into her. Long after the last of my white cream had spilled from my aching balls, I continued to push into her body. I didn’t ever want to come out; I wanted to be sucked inside of her, to become a part of her, to swim through the sea of our liquids, to drink it and tasted it and cover myself with it. I collapsed over the top of her, and we lay there, together, on the table, our chests heaving, until my flaccid cock dropped out of her and a thin, white, stream of cum escaped and dripped off her clit onto the floor.
We lay together, spent, our breathing slowing. I eased off of her, reached between her
sopping legs and pulled the dildo out of her, gently. She didn’t move. I took her by the hand and
led her down the hallway to the bathroom. We climbed, sleepily, into a warm shower together.
She stared at me, silently, as I lathered her body from head to toe. When she was covered with
soap I held her close. Her breasts slid across my chest as I kissed her. Our tongues entwined, my cock stiffened again and burned into her belly. She grabbed it in her hand and pumped it, slowly,
while we kissed. I reached between her legs and slid my fingers between the thick folds of her
swollen labia. Her clit was hard, again, wanting more. We stood together, in the shower, kissing, licking, moaning, masturbating each other until we reached the edge. We stared into each others’ eyes and came together. My thick cream splashed across her tummy. I wanted to collapse. So did she. We giggled and clutched onto each other, to steady ourselves. Such delightful insatiability. We wanted, but it was simply physically impossible.
I turned the water off. We stepped out, and I dried her off with tender swipes of the
towel. We stood in front of the mirror together, smiling at ourselves, at our comfortable
nakedness, at our mutual sexual appetite.
“Damn, that was good,” she purred, with a smile.
“Sure,” I teased, “that’s what you tell all the boys.”
We walked into the kitchen where I helped her climb into her skirt and put her top on. I
held her one last time and kissed her deeply. “You have the prettiest toes on the planet,” I said.
“Let me know if you ever need a touch-up.”
She walked out my front door, tanned, polished, weak, sore and totally satisfied......
Judge: “Okay, the records closed. I will try to have an order out in thirty days. Thank
you, counsel.”
Me (releasing my grip): “Thank YOU, your Honor.”
