Call Me Tom
An acquaintance referred her to the lawyer on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica.
Living in the West Valley, she drove Topanga Canyon to the Coast Highway, through Malibu. She opened the windows letting the breeze blow through her hair. Breathing the salty air calmed her senses.
Angela had little experience with attorneys, but she actually felt composed after the ocean drive.
She decided to wear a light blouse with a conservative skirt. Something that didn’t show a lot of leg or cleavage. She thought it best to dress demure. But she never wore a bra. It was her feminist statement.
The law firm was on the 7th floor of a high rise. A glass elevator swished her up to a spectacular view. She felt seasick stepping out into the reception room, where a secretary ushered her down a hallway.
“Mr. Harrington,” the secretary motioned as she slid the door open to an office with another impressive view of the Pacific.
A man stood behind a desk.
“He offered his hand, “Tom Harrington,”he said.
He was probably in his forties. Tall, dark, and handsome in a blue pinstripe suit with a yellow silk tie.
She shook his hand, “Angela Stone.”
He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, “Please Angela, sit.”
“Call me Tom, please”
“Tom, I have a situation…”
He didn’t seem to be listening. It was very chilly with the air conditioner blasting, and Angela realized he was staring at her taut nipples through the thin silk fabric of her blouse.
He stood and removed his suit jacket while he was supposed to be listening, then sat, adjusting himself in the creaking leather chair.
He leaned across his desk, “Angela, you seem worried. Is there something you haven’t told me that might hurt you in court?”
She confessed, “Well I had been working as a photographer’s model and oh, yes, I’m afraid he might possibly use it against me. He was in a rage when he found out I’d modeled nude. He threatened to take my children!”
Angela squirmed a little because his voice turned hoarse and husky.
Tom looked at Angela’s chest again, “I think I have everything I need to know for now.”
Tom cleared his throat and readjusted himself again. He leaned forward tapping a pencil on his desk and revealed the amount of deposit she would need to retain him as her attorney.
“I’ll need to think about it,” she said.
He nodded in understanding, “Angela, you take your time and call me, no rush, but if you still have questions, perhaps we could meet for a drink next time. I understand your plight, and I think we might discuss my willingness to waive the deposit.”
“That would be nice,” she smiled, knowing she could never afford his retainer.
Tom stood and walked to the open door, and Angela pushed her chair back to follow. But he closed the door. Then he locked it. When she turned he gripped both her arms and held her up against the door, pressing his bulging groin against her body.
“Forget the drink, we’re going to do this right here,” He said fiercely.
She let him peel up her blouse, allowing him to fondle her breasts and suck her nipples while she combed her fingers through his dense dark hair. Angela slid one hand down to feel the hardness through his trousers. His hand slid up her thigh, and he ripped her panties down. On one knee he explored the wetness between her legs with his tongue and fingers. Finally, they fell to the floor and fucked in front of the window with a spectacular view of the ocean.