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Bowling Green Erotic Story
I was just about to begin my closing argument when she walked into the courtroom. About 5 foot six, long light brown hair, dressed in a neat business suit, she flashed me a dazzling smile and took a seat in the second row of the spectators' section, behind the bar. She was, as it happens, the only spectator for this moderately dull business dispute, so she was easy to spot.
My closing was worth listening to; at least, I thought so. I'm a very good trial lawyer, a little more intellectual than many of my colleagues, fond of well-written rhetoric, and with an emotional style that connects well with juries. And my closing arguments usually do a superb job of synthesizing the evidence, applying the law, and making a common-sense appeal to the judge or jury.
Despite that--and despite the large ego that is a job prerequisite in the trial business--I did not expect much of an audience, besides the parties to the suit and their counsel, for my closing argument. Certainly, I did not expect anyone this attractive, and distracting. Since I was, by necessity, arguing to the jury, I only spotted my lovely audience out of the corner of my eye, or when stopping for effect. But I was well aware she was there, and made sure I hit all the dramatic highs of my presentation with a special flourish for her benefit.
After I had finished, and the jury had been sent off to deliberate, I spoke with my client for a few minutes, and he headed back to his office to wait. I had his cell phone number in my pocket, and promised to call him right away when the jury came back with a verdict. There was more than five million dollars at stake, so he was anxious, but there really wasn't anything else to do. I packed up my briefcase and prepared to return to the stack of mail and phone messages awaiting me back in my office.
Before I could leave the courtroom, however, I heard a soft voice behind me asking, "Mr. Lever?" I turned around, and found myself just inches away from my unexpected audience. At that distance I was able to ascertain that her eyes were wide-set and brown; her forehead was high and rather noble looking; and her lips were full and nicely colored. In her classic business suit, she looked very much like a young lawyer, herself. "Yes?" I responded cleverly.
"Hi, I'm Amanda Eller," she said, looking me right in the eye. "I really enjoyed your closing argument. It was one of the best I've ever heard." "Well, thank you, Amanda," I said slowly, "have you heard very many?" "Oh, yes, I'm kind of a connoisseur of closing arguments," she said, grinning. "I've probably sat in on several dozen in the past two years."
"Well, then, that's quite a compliment," I returned, wondering who this young beauty might be. "How did you happen to stop by this courtroom this morning?" "Oh," she said slowly, "I had been looking forward to hearing you all week. It wasn't an accident that I was here today." "Really?" I laughed nervously. "I had no idea that I had such a following--particularly such an attractive following."
"I'm actually a serious fan of the top trial lawyers in the country," Amanda continued, still looking directly at me. "You might say that I'm a trial lawyer groupie." She smiled brightly, letting her tongue dart briefly between her very straight, very white teeth. "So would you like to ask me to lunch?" Amanda asked, still smiling, and placing her perfectly manicured hand on my sleeve.
"Um, gee, well, I don't know," I commented suavely. "I am happily married, you know, Amanda." "Oh, I know," she said, stroking my arm possessively, "I know a lot about you. I know that you are one of the top trial lawyers in town. I know that you are the senior litigator in your firm. I know that you got one of the largest verdicts in the state last year. And I know that you have an eye for pretty girls." She looked up at me again, licked her lips, and kissed me softly. Right there in the courtroom!
"Let's go to lunch, Amanda," I said more positively than my previous comments. I wanted to get out of that courtroom with her as fast as possible. Fortunately, the judge and bailiff were already gone to lunch, and the court reporter was busy packing up his stenotype machine. I hoped no one had seen the kiss. But I wasn't sorry it had happened. Amanda's lips were as soft as a warm breeze.
We left the courtroom together, chatting about the trial, and about the likely verdict. I, as always, resisted making predictions, but Amanda was certain that we had won a defense verdict. In view of her apparently extensive experience as a trial watcher, and since her opinion coincided with my own secret conviction, I didn't argue with her. I suggested a rather dimly lit restaurant that I rarely frequented, and she quickly agreed.
During lunch, Amanda continued her small touches, with fleeting fingertips brushing my cheek, my forehead, and with her stockinged foot massaging my calf beneath the white tablecloth covered table. "What did you mean about being a trial lawyer groupie, Amanda?" I asked in my best cross-examination fashion. "Just what it sounds like, Matt," she said softly, "I love to have sex with the best trial lawyers in the country. They are so aggressive in public, but so sweet and shy in bed. Every one has his own style in the courtroom, and in the bedroom, and it's so much fun finding out what they are. And, by the way, I learn a lot about the litigation business from all of them. As I have already been doing with you."
This was all too much for me, so I did something utterly uncharacteristic and ordered a glass of wine with my lunch. Amanda joined me in that, though the waiter did demand to check her ID before he would serve her. She was 23. A little light went on in my stupefied brain. "You're a law student, aren't you?" I asked sharply. "Good for you, Matt," she replied, giving my thigh a squeeze. "You figured it out much faster than the average." "Where are you in law school?" I examined her further. "Sorry, no can tell," Amanda testified. "I have to keep some secrets."
I took a deep breath before continuing. On the one hand, I did not want to do anything to jeopardize my marriage, or my career. On the other hand, Amanda was a real babe, with a gorgeous slim figure and a face to die for, with elegant, long legs. I had never been offered an opportunity like this one before, and seriously doubted if I ever would again. My cross-examination resumed. "Are you safe, Amanda? I mean, do you have any diseases? How do I know you won't get pregnant? Or turn out to be a nut case, and blackmail me?"
Amanda's laugh sparkled before she answered. "Hold on, counselor. That was a compound question! Let me answer all of its parts in sequence. I am physically very safe, as well as very desirable, as you've already noticed." Amanda punctuated this comment by stroking my crotch, emphasizing the swollen cock she knew she would find there. "I get regular physicals, and I make all of my trial lawyers wear condoms--though, as you could guess, they're a pretty clean bunch. I'm on the pill, as well, and, as for my mental health, you'll have to make your own evaluation of that. Since you have to evaluate witnesses every day, you ought to be good at it. And, by the way, none of your professional colleagues has ever turned me down, if that means anything to you."
She sure knew her trial lawyers: I was way too competitive to let my fellow litigators get one up on me. That decided whatever remaining uncertainty was left in my highly aroused body. "I'm betting that you have a place to go. Am I right?" I asked her. "She smiled beautifully at me, and said, "Of course I do. I'm staying at the Marriott up the street. Like to join me?"
We walked to the hotel by a somewhat circuitous route, to minimize the number of my colleagues who might see us together, and soon were in her room. I reached for her to kiss her, but she pushed me away abruptly. "No, Matt, that's not the way it works. Here's what you're going to do: you're going to stand very still, and let me undress you. Then you're going to continue to stand still while I undress in front of you. Then you'll do exactly what I tell you to. Understood?" "Understood," I replied, confused but excited.
And that was just what happened. I did my best impersonation of a soldier at attention, while Amanda carefully unknotted and removed my tie, unbuttoned and hung up my shirt and suit jacket, unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants, and hung them up as well. She slipped off my tassel loafers, rolled down my socks, and slid my printed boxers off of me, leaving my middle-aged cock in an unaccustomed rigid replication of my own stance. Spotting a small drop of liquid on the tip, she bent over and carefully licked it off. I trembled.
"No, no," Amanda reminded me. "Stand still." She then stood directly in front of me, took off her own suit jacket and blouse, hung them up neatly, slid her skirt off, removed her pantyhose and bra, and finally took off her small, pink bikini panties. She was breathtaking: small, well formed breasts, nipples erect; trim, athletic figure; nicely trimmed pubic hair, color matching that on her head.
She knelt in front of me, and began kissing and licking my cock. "Do you like that, Matt?" she asked, not really expecting an answer; in any case, my soft whimper of pleasure was probably a sufficient one. She took my cock deep in her mouth, and applied a steady suction to it, then stopped and sat in a deep chair, her pelvis thrust forward to the edge. "Now come and eat me out, Matt," she commanded. I was only too happy to comply.
I propped her legs over my shoulders, and began a leisurely exploration of her pussy with my fingers and tongue, ending up with a concentrated approach to her swollen clit. After a few tentative sucks made it clear that she couldn't handle that much pressure, I stuck with licks and flicks of my tongue, until she began bucking her hips into my face, and came with a series of little yelps.
"Now, come to bed and fuck me, Matt," she instructed, and took my hand to lead me to the bedroom. Starting on her back, with her legs wrapped behind me, she directed my cock first into a previously planted condom, and then into her very wet pussy. I happily stroked it in and out of her, wondering how long I would last, until she pushed me away, turned onto her hands and knees, and asked me to enter her from behind. Ever obedient, I pushed deep inside her, and kept up a steady rhythm until I exploded hard and collapsed on top of her.
Afterward, lying in bed together, Amanda told me more about her attempt to combine sex and legal education. She had made a practice of asking for copies of trial briefs from her conquests, and I promised her one of mine to add to her collection. Feeling not only satiated but smart, I said, "By the way, Amanda, when you finish school, I would love to offer you a job with our firm. Your mind and initiative suggest that you will make a hell of a lawyer, yourself." "Sorry, Matt," Amanda said against my shoulder. "I've already got a job offer when I graduate, and it isn't with the firm of any lawyer I've slept with." "Why not?" I asked, puzzled.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" she said with a grin. "I want to be the top trial lawyer at the firm I join. Since I only have sex with the best in the country, I'd have serious competition at any of their firms. And, besides, I'd never know for sure if I was being promoted because of my talent in the courtroom or the bedroom. I'm too proud to let that happen."
I was ready to argue with her about that, but her lips on my chest proved too distracting, and we somehow never got back to the subject.
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