Authors: Loki Renard
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Fiction, #Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction
Little Miss and the Law
By Loki Renard
ISBN : 978-10112013-144-4
Copyright 2011 Loki Renard.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Image: Kenneth Sponsler , 2011, Bigstockphoto.com
Did she know how much she looked like a little girl when she pouted like that? Mackenzie thought probably not as she watched the woman rifling through her handbag crossly. She was wearing a stiff, starched white shirt with a tie that made her look somewhere between the school girl she most definitely wasn't, and the executive Mackenzie guessed she probably was.
"Dammit!" the woman swore under her breath. It was a voluminous bag. Maybe it held some cash, maybe it didn't. An expedition lead by Sir Edmund Hilary may very well not have been able to confirm or deny, so full was it of other things.
The bored barista, all piercings and bust and brightly colored falls, looked unconcerned. "It's $5.95, lady," she reiterated with a snap of gum between her teeth.
"$5.95? I remember when a dollar got you a coffee and a muffin," the harassed businesswoman responded, stopping midway through her search to frown at the barista.
"Yeah, well, this ain't the stone age anymore, lady," the wench replied with the arrogance of callow youth.
The woman glared at her, and from across the cafe, Mackenzie joined in her glare. Really, the little upstarts hired in this place were getting entirely out of hand. Standing up fluidly, she brushed down her sleek black pantsuit and drifted across to the counter. "Here, allow me," she said, depositing a ten dollar note on the counter.
The businesswoman looked flustered, confused, slightly angry as she looked up at Mackenzie with wide hazel eyes. "Thank you, that's so kind, you didn't have to..." she said gratefully.
"I wanted to," Mackenzie smiled her broad smile, the one that made people fall over themselves to please her just to bask in its warmth. She leaned against the counter casually, one hand on her hip, the other resting atop the perspex shield.
"I'm Mackenzie," she introduced herself.
"Stephanie, Stephanie Morris," the other woman stammered.
The barista was back, tossing change on the counter as if it was infected with polio, her mascara rimmed eyes glancing between the two of them as she made a disgusted sound in her throat. "Sheesh, get a room," she muttered.
"Get back to work..." Mackenzie read the little badge the barrista wore, "
before I have words with Brian." The owner of the cafe was a friend of hers, and whilst she understood his weakness and preference for teens with attitudes, occasionally they got ahead of themselves.
The barrista rolled her eyes, but walked away smartly.
"Thank you. She was really starting to get on my nerves. You must let me return the favor some time," Stephanie smiled. She had a cute smile, Mackenzie noted.
"You'd like me to let you give a customer service girl a hard time on my behalf?" Mackenzie drawled, letting the Australian accent she'd almost gotten rid of entirely show through here and there in the pronunciation of her vowels, or, as she would have said, prununceeation.
"No!" Stephanie giggled at the thought. "You must let me buy you a coffee." She swatted playfully at Mackenzie's arm as she spoke, like a kitten batting at a string.
Mackenzie smiled. Stephanie was cute when she wasn't scowling. Oh, she pulled off the 'mature businesswoman' look quite successfully, but underneath that super short bob was a light, playful spirit, the sort Mackenzie had always found so alluring.
"Give me a call sometime." Mackenzie slipped Stephanie a business card, matte black, embossed, expensive. Stephanie looked down at it and laughed.
"Mackenzie and Associates? Do you always go by your last name?"
Mackenzie smiled a slow smile. "Yes, it helps keep people in their place if they're not allowed the benefit of over familiarity."
Many people would have snorted in disdain at that sort of attitude. Others would have found it perhaps a little eccentric. Stephanie, on the other hand, shivered slightly and an almost imperceptible blush rose to her cheeks. "Oh," she said softly.
'Bingo,' Mackenzie thought. "It's important, to keep some people in their place," she drawled smoothly, lowering her voice to an intimate purr.
Stephanie giggled lightly. "If you say so, Ma'am." Her eyes flicked up at Mackenzie under her eye lashes as she added the honorific, curious, testing.
Mackenzie rewarded her with another wide smile. "Oh, I do say so. Give me a call sometime."
"I will!" Stephanie agreed, the momentary spell between them lost as customers bustled in through the door, clanging the bell and giving them stares of irritation for cluttering up the counter.
"I have to go..." Stephanie said, a note of wistfulness in her tone.
"Run along, my dear," Mackenzie injected the note of possession with a wink.
Stephanie Morris left the coffee shop with bright smile on her face, coffee clutched in one hand and Mackenzie's card held tightly in the other.
Staring out her office window, Stephanie turned the card over in her fingers for the thousandth time, thinking about the woman in the coffee shop. There was something slightly otherworldly about her, as if she were merely a visitor to this plane from another place or perhaps another time. 'She's Australian, not an alien, idiot,' she berated herself harshly with a short laugh.
Light blue eyes smiling at her under dark hair, the vision danced before her imagination again. Mackenzie was so striking, and yet, before she had come to the rescue, Stephanie had not noticed her, let alone given her a second glance. She dressed well too, somewhat androgynously, but that seemed to suit her. The memory of the way the straight lines of the suit jacket sat as she leaned against the perspex counter, her dark, wavy hair tumbling over her shoulder, sent a little shiver through Stephanie's belly.
'You called her Ma'am', Stephanie reminded herself, blushing again in the privacy of the room. 'And she liked it.' Was it possible that Mackenzie might be the sort of woman who liked to take charge? She had certainly taken charge there in the coffee shop, a lady knight in a dark suit with a wicked smile.
She picked up the phone to dial, pressed the first few numbers, then dropped the receiver back down as nerves began to fizzle in her belly.
"Miss Morris, your 3 o'clock is here," her secretary's voice buzzed efficiently through the speakerphone.
"Send him in," Stephanie replied, placing Mackenzie's card aside for safe keeping.
Night had fallen before Stephanie was able to leave the office and collect her car. It had been a very long day and she was exhausted. On auto pilot, she got into her car and began the long commute out from the city to the little house she had at the edge of the suburbs on the border of the green belt. Some said she was mad for living so far out of town, and Stephanie often agreed with them, but the peace and quiet of the little place after the hectic pace of the city soothed and calmed her, and that was worth a couple of hours of driving every day.
She was on the freeway when a sound began. A rattling, knocking sound from the rear of her car. Puzzled, Stephanie slowed a little, but continued driving. The sound grew louder and more pained before the engine spluttered and she found herself suddenly coasting to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she swore, hitting the steering wheel. This was all she didn't need. She reached for her cellphone to call for help, but it refused to turn on. Dead battery. At that discovery, Stephanie's language became a great deal more foul.
Resting her forehead on the steering wheel, she took a few deep breaths, then looked around for anything that might help. In the pocket of her jacket, she found Mackenzie's card.
A sign indicated that there was a phone for emergencies located half a mile ahead, and Stephanie made for it, taking care to leave her hazard lights on and lock her car. Walking in the dark was dangerous, but she had little choice. There was no other way to get help.
She hesitated before calling Mackenzie, but there was nothing for it. She remembered no-one else's number, they were all on her cellphone. Mackenzie might hang up on her, but it was worth a try anyway.
The phone rang a few times, and Stephanie found herself getting nervous.
"Hello?" Mackenzie's voice came over the line. Stephanie felt herself flooded with relief.
"Hi, Mackenzie, its Stephanie, we met, uh, earlier today," she stumbled over her words.
"Hello Stephanie, how are you?" Mackenzie was calm, unruffled, her slight accent making her sound even more relaxed.
"I, well, not good, I broke down on the motorway and I was..."
"Where are you?"
She didn't need to finish the request for help. She gave Mackenzie her approximate location and agreed to wait for her to arrive.
Stephanie hung up the phone with a smile, and turned around just in time to see a semi truck plough into the back of her car and send it several yards up the road in a roar of bending metal and a shower of sparks.
Contrary to Mackenzie's fears, it was easy to find Stephanie. It was easy to find Stephanie because there were flashing police and fire lights and a pile of metal on the road that may or may not have been a car at one time.
In amongst the officers and past the wildly gesticulating angry man in a torn vest, Mackenzie spotted Stephanie sitting at the side of the road, a reflective blanket over her shoulders. She looked shaken and scared and small.
Mackenzie drew over out of the range of other traffic and strode over towards the scene.
"Mackenzie!" The look of relief on Stephanie's face was clear as she stood up to greet her.
"Hello my dear," Mackenzie said, drawing the smaller woman into a hug. She looked like she needed one, and Mackenzie's heart went out to her. Stephanie sunk into her arms without complaint and held on tightly as tears began to flow. "Oh, it's all my fault," she wailed.
"It's not your fault you broke down," Mackenzie replied, rubbing Stephanie's back comfortingly. "These things happen."
"No! They said it was out of gas. I ran it dry," Stephanie confessed with a guilty little look.
"I see." Mackenzie frowned. "Are you okay? Is anyone hurt?"
Stephanie shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "No, the other driver is okay. He is mad though."
When her car had been taken away on the back of a truck, and the police allowed her to go, Mackenzie took Stephanie by the hand and lead her to her car.
"You're coming home with me tonight," she said firmly.
"Thank you," Stephanie said quietly. She was dirty and tired and on the verge of tears from stress.
"And you can take tomorrow off, you look like you need the rest." Mackenzie added.
"I...can't..." Stephanie began to protest, but Mackenzie shot her a look that indicated clearly what she had said had not been a suggestion.
Lapsing into silence, Stephanie stared at her lap, feeling like a child in trouble with her stern mother. Ever since she confessed that the accident had been partially her fault, there had been a tension about Mackenzie. Oh, she had been kind and comforting, but there was that definite tension in the atmosphere, one that told Stephanie she was in trouble without a word needing to be spoken.