Power of Attorney (17 page)

“His buddy?” I asked, a feeling of dread slowly settling over me.

“Matt Brenner. You know, Shelly Brenner’s son. I hear he’s good, and I have a feeling that with him here Mr. Nicholas will be even cockier than usual.”

“Great,” I croaked.

“I’ll be right back. My husband has to take both kids to the pediatrician this morning and he’s in a state of panic. I need to go try to talk him in.” 

As she left I sat down numbly, listening to the sound of my heartbeat and the blood rushing in my ears. Get a grip, Sarah. What’s wrong with you? Even if he recognizes you, which he won’t, who cares? He acted like a professional the other night and he will again.  But he would probably tell Mr. Nicholas, who would positively revel in the idea of me jumping out of a cake.  Maybe I could get assigned to appeals.

“All rise!” the court clerk came out from the judge’s chambers and everyone quickly stood up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two tall dark haired figures wheel in brief cases, and quickly assume their places at the prosecution table. Jill rushed back to stand beside me again. “The Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia, Criminal Division, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Randall Jefferson presiding, all those with matters before the court come forward and ye shall be heard.”

“Be seated. Counsel enter your appearance,” Judge Jefferson announced, sounding tired as usual.  I heard a familiar deep voice and my heart sped up even more.

“Matt Brenner for the Commonwealth, Your Honor.”

“Kevin Nicholas for the Commonwealth.”

“Jill Hughes from the Defender Association.” And then it was my turn. I steeled my nerves and spoke out in a firm voice; only vaguely similar to the flirty one Mr. Brenner had heard on Saturday night.

“Sarah Eisenberg from the Defender Association.” In my peripheral vision, I could see Mr. Brenner turn to look in my direction, but I continued to stare straight ahead.

“Call the first case,” the judge instructed.

“Commonwealth v. Clancy,” the clerk called out. It was Jill’s case and I exhaled.

“Is the Commonwealth ready to proceed?” the judge asked.

“We are, Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner answered. 

Somehow, I managed to focus and psych myself up into my “zone.” I hobbled over to Mr. Nicholas with a determined look.

“Wild weekend?” he asked glancing down at my foot.

“Make me an offer,” I demanded.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked with a lascivious note in his voice.

“Probation,” I answered, ignoring it.

“Are you kidding me? Your client is charged with a felony, Counselor.”

“Yes, I was informed,” I answered dryly. “But it’s a non-violent felony and she has no prior criminal record.”

“It’s still a felony. She stole an innocent citizen’s credit card number and used it to buy things like,” he consulted a list, “radial tires, Pepperidge Farms Gift Baskets, and oh, what’s this, $500 worth of adult toys at the Pleasure Chest. Well, someone is going to have happy holidays.” I knew then, that it was going to be a long day.

We wound up having a non-jury trial. As usual, Mr. Nicholas and I engaged in a battle royal that included me trying to minimize the gravity of the situation, and Mr. Nicholas listing, in detail, every single naughty purchase my client made with a stolen credit card number. I was so wrapped up in my fight that I temporarily forgot about Mr. Brenner, but when the dust had finally settled, I glanced up and saw him watching me intently. I froze for a second and our gazes locked. He knew. Then it dawned on me, the limp, of course.  I looked away, not sure what to do. It was hardly earth shattering that he knew, but still, it was embarrassing. I had been so flirty. Good lord, I asked him if he wanted to hold me. I wanted to hide.

Somehow, I made it through the rest of the court session. As people filed out of the courtroom, I saw Mr. Brenner say something to Mr. Nicholas, who glanced in my direction and gave his friend a baffled look but left without him. I continued packing up my files and trying to seem nonchalant.

“Hello Norma Jean, or should I call you Chelsea?” he asked leaning against the defense table beside me. I stopped packing and made myself look him in the eye.

“Chelsea is my neighbor, and she’s a good friend of mine. She really is a theater major, and she needed my help. I would have told you who I was, but I was afraid it would impact on my actual job.”  I saw his expression soften for a moment, before the cocky prosecutor mask fell back into place.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to go easy on you just because you look great in red sequins.”

“Give me all you’ve got, Counselor, because I can take it,” I said with a note of challenge. Even though I had been embarrassed thinking about how I had flirted before, I was flirting with him now, and I didn’t care. It seemed that I lost my inhibitions, and possibly my good sense, when I got close to him. There was some sizzling chemistry between us and we both knew it.

“I plan to find out,” he said in a quiet voice, his eyes darkening like they had that night in his office. It was getting a little hot in here, and I needed to change the subject.

“I suppose there’s no chance that you won’t tell Mr. Nicholas how we met, huh?”

“None at all.” He laughed. “I can’t deny him that. You kick his ass on a regular basis. I’ve heard stories about you.”

“I don’t doubt it. I know he calls me Ms. Iceberg behind my back by the way.”

“You know about that?” He had the grace to be embarrassed on his friend’s behalf.

“It’s okay. I call him Mr. Dickless.” That made him laugh harder.

“Well, you don’t seem at all like an iceberg to me. See you in court Norma Jean.”

“See you around sailor,” I said with a wink. I watched him walk down the aisle still laughing and shaking his head. As the courtroom door closed behind him, I collapsed into a chair, closed my eyes and grinned a huge silly grin.

***

T
he next day I was fully prepared for Mr. Nicholas to torture me mercilessly. To my surprise, though, he seemed rather conflicted. I must have caught him scrutinizing me a dozen times. I assumed that he was trying to picture me as Marilyn Monroe. It’s not that I was unattractive. I’m sure that even he would admit that. It’s just that I was such a ballbuster in court. I had a feeling that Mr. Brenner had told him that he thought I was sexy, and Mr. Nicholas was trying wrap his head around that.

It didn’t stop him from being his usual charming self of course, and the two of us wound up going several rounds. In a strange way, I was gratified to see that he wasn’t treating me any differently. I was starting to realize that I had been worried about nothing. Chelsea was right. I did overthink things. I couldn’t help but notice that no matter what he was doing, Mr. Brenner always seemed to try to stop and watch when Mr. Nicholas and I were engaged in battle. I watched him too, though. There was some kind of pull between us and it was hard to resist.

That pattern continued throughout the week with one minor change on Friday. That day Mr. Brenner and I faced each other on a case for the first time. It was just a preliminary hearing, not a trial, so normally there wouldn’t have been much arguing. Somehow, though, the two of us wound up toe-to-toe in front of the judge tossing case law at each other fast and furiously. It felt passionate with him, though, rather than aggressive like it did with Mr. Nicholas. When I thought about it later, I realized that it didn’t take Freud to figure out that we were substituting a courtroom battle for sex. I wondered how long it would be before one of us broke down and acted on our obvious mutual attraction.

T
he answer was, several weeks. Mr. Brenner and I began facing each other on more and more cases, and I started to suspect that he was trading with Mr. Nicholas so that we would be up against one another, so to speak. Our battles were becoming more passionate, and our growing desire, more thinly veiled. At times I felt dizzy with adrenaline, and I could almost smell the testosterone on him. One of us would have to do something soon, or we might just fuck each other right there in the middle of the courtroom one day.

Finally, one Tuesday in mid-January it happened. We had been battling fiercely all morning, and my pulse was racing. Court had adjourned and everyone had left the courtroom but Mr. Brenner and me, who were still arguing.

“Would it be so hard for you to cut me a break for once?” I asked, looking into his flashing eyes, the color of a thunderstorm.

“I did cut you a break once. Not only were you in possession of contraband, you signed your neighbor’s name on an official police report. I could have filed charges.” It was the first time he had brought up anything personal in over a month. I decided to test the waters a little and see if it was significant.

“You still could,” I said quietly. “Are you going to charge me?” I knew that the look I was giving him telegraphed my desire. At that point, I had accepted the fact that I wanted Mr. Brenner, and if he showed me that he wanted to go there, I would go.

“Not if you’ll go out to dinner with me on Friday night.” He gave me a look that hit me right between the legs.

“Counselor, I do believe that may constitute prosecutorial misconduct,” I teased.

“Only if you dance well too,” he said with a sexy smile. “Now give me your phone number Norma Jean.”

***

W
ednesday was a busy day in court. Mr. Brenner and I locked horns in a check fraud case, that as usual, seemed to leave both of us feeling like we should smoke a cigarette or something. When the court session was done that day he came over to talk to me.

“Let’s have a conference.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Come on,” he said without answering.

“Do I need my ...”

“No.” He put his hand on the small of my back to urge me along. While that would have annoyed me if someone else had done it, Mr. Brenner’s touch created a much different reaction. He led me up behind the jury box into the deliberation room and closed the door. Then he turned and took a step toward me.

“Yes?” I asked, swallowing, excruciatingly aware of how close he was to me.

“I can’t wait until Friday,” he said simply.

I moved at the same second he did, throwing my arms around his neck as he grabbed my bottom and pulled me against him. And then we were kissing, and kissing, and kissing. Oh my God, were we kissing! We groaned into each other’s mouths as our tongues tangled together hungrily. He tasted minty and smelled spicy. It was an intoxicating combination that set all of my nerves tingling.

Our hands roamed over one another’s bodies and I arched and ground against him. I needed to be pressed against him. I felt like I couldn’t get close enough, and the ache in my pussy reminded me that we could still get much closer than this. I wasn’t the only who was aware of that fact. I could feel how hard he was and sensed that he was close to losing control. I just wasn’t sure that I cared if he did.  Finally, he broke our kiss, breathing heavily.

“Sarah, if we don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you right here on the jury table. We shouldn’t take that kind of chance.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said in a hoarse voice. “Bad career move. You have anything scheduled this afternoon?”

“Nothing I can’t postpone.”

“I’m feeling kind of ill. I might have to take half a sick day,” I said pulling out my cell phone from my pocket.

“Must be going around,” he said, pulling out his. Ten minutes later, we were in his car, headed for his apartment. I turned to him, any feelings of awkwardness trumped by naked lust.

“So, I should mention that I am healthy, and get tested regularly, and my partners have always used condoms, unless we were having a monogamous relationship. I am on the Pill too, though.”

“I’m healthy, and tested regularly, and I always use a condom, unless I’m involved in a monogamous relationship,” he replied. There was moment of silence and then he added hesitantly, “You know, this might sound crazy...”

“I’m good with monogamy. We’ll get to know each other better over time,” I cut in and he groaned and sped up. Five minutes later, he was inserting the key into his apartment door as I fidgeted, yearning for him to insert himself into me.

We were barely inside before our tongues wrapped together again, while we tried valiantly to undress each other. Jesus, lawyers wore a lot of clothes. Finally, in frustration I stepped back, and practically ripped off my blouse. He freed himself of his tie and undid what buttons were left on his shirt, as I shimmied out of my skirt and managed to escape my pantyhose. Note to self: start wearing thigh highs. 

We finished undressing at almost exactly the same time, and paused to take in the view. His body was hard ... all over. He had great muscles, a flat belly, and oh wow. Thank you God.  He seemed pleased with what he saw too, and I also thanked my gym.

“Sarah,” he said in a low husky voice.

“Give me a tour. Let’s start with the bedroom.” I panted. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to a door off to the right. Hitting a switch on the way, a dim bedside light came on. That’s all I noticed. I would check out the décor later. At the moment I had other things on my mind.

He yanked back the duvet and turned to give me a look that sent me sailing across the room and into his bed. Hey, don’t judge; I was owning my own sexuality. Gloria Steinem would be proud of me. He quickly joined me and pressed that wonderfully, warm hard body against mine, kissing me feverishly again. Then he moved his mouth to suck lightly on my neck, and then lower still, to suck on my painfully hard nipples.  I arched and bucked and made a lot of noise, gasping, moaning, pleading, demanding ... As he moved further south he paused.

“Ever since I met you, I’ve been fantasizing about whipped cream. I think it was the cake thing.”

“Later,” I answered breathlessly. “That can be dessert, but right now. I just need you to fuck me.” He groaned, rose and crawled up over me, lifting one of my legs and resting it on his shoulder.  Bracing his hands on either side of me, he positioned his hips and I reached down to guide him to my entrance.