(Thanks to all those who emailed with support. I have been busy with life, and also with a novella I hope to post here soon. I hope you enjoy!)
*
I kicked at a pile of leaves on the sidewalk as I rounded the corner, walking away from the courthouse, heading back toward the office. I was disgusted, partly with myself for losing my temper, partly with the judge for being such a myopic idiot, but mostly with the screwed-up justice system that left me feeling more and more hopeless.
"Wait up, dude!" a voice cried from behind me.
George Reilly nearly knocked me over as he caught up, his naturally ruddy cheeks a bright pink as he huffed, leaning over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
"I've been trying to catch up with you since you stalked out of the courtroom. That was some kind of a show you put on, Manny. You should have sold tickets."
"I'm glad you were entertained," I snapped, turning away and continuing to walk. "Next time, I'll sell it on pay-per-view."
"Seriously, dude," George said, half-jogging to keep up with me, his rotund belly jiggling, "what kind of sick vibe do you have going with Judge Fields? I thought for sure she was going to hold you in contempt."
"Contempt?" I spat. "Please! She'd have to take a train to catch up, I already hold her in such contempt."
"Sure, dude, but you can't throw her in jail."
I shook my head as we walked, momentarily reveling in the image of slamming a cell door on Judge Marilyn Fields, laughing as steam rose from her starched collar and seeing her horn-rimmed glasses fall off as she screamed at me.
"Really, dude," George pleaded, "What is it? Did you fuck her and forget to call the next day?"
I stopped for a moment and took a deep breath.
"Because I love you, George," I said in a measured tone, "I am going to pretend you never asked that question."
"It's just the way you were going after each other," George continued, ignoring me as he chased me along the sidewalk. "You have the whole Don Juan thing going for you, and with those glasses, she's got that naughty librarian/dominatrix thing going on. I just wondered if maybe, late one night, you ran into each other in a bar some place and got drunk and did the naked lambada."
"First," I sneered, "it is impossible to get that drunk without suffering alcohol poisoning. Second," I continued as we approached the office," did you see what she was trying to do to my client? Two days late paying a fine for marijuana possession and she wanted to put him in jail for thirty days!"
"I've represented that guy before," George responded. "What was this, like, his tenth conviction for weed?"
"Not the point," I hissed, pulling the door opened and stalking inside. "He brought the money to pay the fine, and that bitch was still going to-"
"Excuse me, are you Manuel Torres?"
George and I turned at the sound of a husky, but feminine voice, something like Kathleen Turner with a vaguely European accent. A woman rose, smoothing a royal blue skirt that stopped just above her knee. Her platinum blond hair fell perfectly straight, framing a long, oval face with flawless skin. Along gold chain rested against her chest, sinking down into a deep valley of cleavage, proudly displayed in a V-necked sweater, two shades darker than her skirt. As she stepped forward, I realized she was nearly an inch taller than me.
"Yes, I'm Manuel Torres," I said, stepping forward.
"My name is Ulla Quintana. I believe you are the attorney for my daughters, Carmen and Vanessa."
My blood froze as the blond goddess approached us. Over the ten months that Carmen and Vanessa had been cleaning my apartment, and fucking my brains out, each of them had mentioned their mother, lovingly, several times, but nothing they said prepared me for the devastating vision that was stretching her hand out to greet me.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Quintana," I said slowly, as I shook her hand. "Did we have an appointment to meet today?"
"No, no," she said, "this is my fault. Perhaps I should have called first."
"No, it's all right," I said quickly, moving a step closer to her. "I would be glad to talk with you about your daughters' . . . oww!" I yelped as George's heel ground into my instep.
"Sorry, dude," George grinned as he stepped past me, "your feet are so big I'm always having to watch my step. How do you do Mrs. Quintana. I'm Mr. Torres' colleague, George Reilly. Really, I'm more like a mentor to Manny, you see, I've taught him everything he knows. If you have any questions he can't answer, just have him call me. I would be more than happy to be of service."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Reilly," Ulla said with a coquettish grin, "but I just needed to ask Mr. Torres some questions about my daughters' . . . legal entanglements, and what he planned to do about them."
"Well, um, Mrs. Quintana," I stammered, shaking my sore foot, "if you would like to come upstairs to my office, I'm sure I can answer any questions you have about your daughters.
As the receptionist pressed the button releasing the electronic lock on the door, I hoped I had sounded remotely convincing. I held the door open, smiling graciously as Ulla Quintana swept past me.
"I should like very much to see your office, Mr. Torres," she said haughtily as she entered.
George grabbed my arm before I could follow Ulla inside.
"Dude, if you need to take care of your foot," he whispered, "I could totally take care of her while you walk it off."
"Take a cold shower, you pervert," I hissed, shaking his arm off as we followed Ulla inside. Pointing the way toward the elevator, I fell into step beside Ulla.
"I must admit," I said, pleasantly, as I pressed the elevator call button "your daughters have mentioned you several times since I have known them, but I didn't think I would ever have the pleasure of meeting you."
"My daughters have been so . . . complimentary of your . . .services," she said with a small grin," I felt compelled to meet you, and judge for myself."
The elevator door opened, and I couldn't stop myself from checking out Ulla's ass as she walked into the elevator. High and firm, it was entirely as impressive as her front.
"Dude," George whispered furtively," that ass is so fucking ripe."