A Grim Mistake

Copyright © 2012 Marc J. Riley

Copyright © 2012 Cover Design by Marc J. Riley

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.

The material in the eBook contains sexually explicit content and is intended for a mature audience only. All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.

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Emilie Saucier left her office at five o’clock on a Friday after a grueling week and an even more grueling day at the law firm where she hoped to become a partner; one day. Right now she was just a twenty-six year old fresh out of law school with the ink still wet on her bar exam and a need to blow off some steam.

Her friends, Stephanie and Kaori, said to meet them at the pier in Santa Monica. She just had time to make it back to her shoebox apartment in the Hollywood Hills, grab a quick shower, throw on some jeans, sandals and light peasant blouse in an off peach color that went well with her tanned complexion and strawberry curls.

Kissing her cat, Fandango, a quick goodbye, who tolerantly put-up with her misplaced affection in exchange for his kibble, she dashed out the door an hour later and hopped into her black Saab 9000 turbo and, kicking it into gear, dashed through traffic down Wilshire Boulevard ignoring the transgendered and multi-gendered freaks out doing some early panhandling on the streets of Hollywood.

Emilie had come to LA after graduating from Stanford Law summa cum laude just six months ago. Landing a spot with one of the most prestigious entertainment law firms in the city had been a big feather in her cap; and despite having to move downstate, she loved every minute of it. That is, she would, if she ever got to do any actual law work. Mostly she’d just been reviewing contracts, researching copyright and intellectual property regulations for the Senior Associates and, of all things, getting coffee for that arrogant bastard Denny Brice who
was
a partner even if he was only thirty-two. Son-of-a-bitch!

“Never again.”

She recalled the look on his sculpted face as that tall, trim gorgeous bastard had strolled through the office as if he owned the damn place. Well, okay, maybe in a way he did own the place. But, what the hell, he shouldn’t have even been down on that floor. All the partners had offices on sixteen with floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking the city.

“Unh-huh. I saw that look on your face,” he continued, “Denny Brice is a shark. Everything he sees he devours. And that includes fresh-faced law school graduates from farm country. Just you stay away unless you want to be another notch on his holster.”

“Ppfftt!” I wittily replied. “I’ve got absolutely no interest in Mr. Denny “grande mocha no whip with two pumps, please sweetie” Brice.” I rejoined turning to go the copier room down the hall.

“Besides,” I couldn’t resist teasing, “I wouldn’t want to poach on your turf, Kevin.”

Kevin’s hands flew to his hips as he shot me a moue of indignation. Kevin is gay. I don’t just mean he likes men, I mean he is g-a-y! And while he doesn’t advertise it, even here in liberal LA, it was easy enough to pick up on the first time I met him.

Besides, he never checked out my ass, and I have a great ass if I do say so myself.

Emilie shook her head clear of these thoughts as she turned left down Santa Monica Boulevard and made her way to the pier parking lot. Forking out a ten-spot for parking, grabbing her ostrich-skin clutch, and hiking over to Bubba Gump’s she spotted Kaori before she saw Stephanie.

Kaori is Japanese. She’d come over from Japan five years ago for a fashion internship. She spoke flawless English along with French, Russian, and, of course, Japanese. For an Asian she was tall at five-foot-eight. Long coarse dark hair hung below her shoulders with a dark purple streak highlighting the left side. Slender, Kaori ate everything she could get without adding an ounce of weight to her supple figure.

Tonight she sported four-inch wedge sandals, white shorts cut high on the thigh and black tee top that fit her like a second skin revealing small but perfect tits.

Stephanie had the same dark hair but kept it cut short. In her flats she stood as tall as Kaori at just about six-foot. Her loose floral sundress hung in golden folds doing little to hide the voluptuous figure underneath. She was an Amazon in both size and demeanor. She was a fierce defender of her friends and family and a fiercer lover to the many men that wandered in and out of her life.

Slamming back a good jolt of the icy rum concoction Emilie, determined to have a good time and blow off some steam, raised her fist and gave a good country “Whoooo!” as the rum warmed her throat.

“Let’s Go!” She shouted, grabbing Kaori by the arm and turning down the pier. The rollercoaster thundered overhead as the striating lights on the Ferris wheel lit up the night.

Denny Brice watched the trio from his viewpoint in the arcade hidden from view by the tourists wandering aimlessly around like the cattle they were.

Once again his eyes were drawn to the slender blonde’s round ass as she sashayed down the boardwalk swinging her hips like a courtesan.

“Damn, that ass” Denny Brice thought. It was the first thing he had noticed about the girl when she had come to work at his firm. And that’s the way he thought of it: his firm. Sure, he was just the newest partner, but what Denny Brice wanted, Denny Brice got…no matter what.

What he wanted now was that luscious ass swinging its way down the pier. He’d wanted it since that first day he’d seen her walking through the parking garage wearing that tight pale pink suit-skirt. Her high heels clicked on the pavement in time to the throbbing ache growing in his cock as he had watched her get on the elevator.

Denny Brice knew women.

He knew that if he approached her like any other man she would just shoot him down. Smart, aggressive, educated women like that would never fall for the usual pickup lines.

No, if he were going to win this battle he would have to use something special. And what Denny Brice wanted most of all was to win…at all costs.

He began forming his plan when he overheard the woman discussing her Friday night plans with that Associate Kevin. Once he knew she was going to the Santa Monica pier his thoughts had immediately gone to a man he knew that worked the pier as a street magician.

Alexander Grimm was no common magician. The man had real talent. If he ever got ambitious he could headline at any Vegas casino he wanted.

Instead he spent most of his time drunk, which is why he owed Denny Brice a big favor. Denny Brice had represented him a few years ago when Grimm had been an up-and-comer; gotten him a few choice gigs too. That was until the fool got drunk and plowed his car into a crowd of tourists on Hollywood Boulevard.

Luckily, there were no serious injuries but the cops had been talking about some hard time as a lesson.

Denny Brice had schmoozed his way into the judges chambers, glad-handed the ADA on the case, spread around some Lakers court-side tickets, and walked out of there with nothing more than a stiff warning for the remorseful prestidigitator.

Now Denny Brice intended to collect on that debt.

He followed along behind the oblivious trio as they darted from one sideshow stand to another; always being sure to stay out of sight.

Finally, they came to the end of the pier where Grimm had set up his street act. Some Asian tourists were being entertained by an endless chain of scarves being plucked from the elderly mamasan’s ear when Denny Brice caught Grimm’s eye.

With a nod of his head, he indicated the laughing girls approaching from the side. Grimm nodded back in acknowledgement quickly putting away the scarves and shooing the tourists away.

Kaori approached first, leading the way. Grimm, smiling his best smile, pulled a rose out of thin air and handed it to the sexy Geisha.

“I thank you, Mademoiselle,” Grimm condescended, “but the young lady is, however regretfully, correct. Such minor tricks as this are mere trinkets to a true magician.”

“Well, let me see now,” Grimm hesitated, “why don’t I progress through my repertoire and you can inform me when you’ve reached a level of difficulty satisfactory enough to overcome your innate skepticism? Agreed?”

All three young women nodded affirmative, entertained already by the tall performer’s eccentric manner. It didn’t hurt that their drinks had gone down smoothly either. They were ready for some fun.

“Let’s proceed, then,” Grimm advised, “I would like you…” he said pointing to Stephanie, “to think of a number, any number.”

“Oh, right, then you’re gonna guess it. Lame-O.”

“Not at all, miss.” Grimm denied, “I have no way of knowing what number you might possibly conceive. A guess is not magic. Please, bear with me.”