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Author’s Note: I decided to try my hand at writing a simple story, in terms of both length and story, for a change. I’d appreciate getting readers’ thoughts on it.

Any and all similarities between the following fiction and real people, events, or places is purely unintentional.

Angela stares down at the man.

At just over one and a half metres, in a fairly conservative pantsuit that hides most of her figure, she isn’t exactly intimidating to look at.

Nonetheless, her honey-gold eyes are as warm as ice, and narrowed dangerously on the businessman.

The wall of wood between them doesn’t hinder the effect of her glare in the slightest.

When she sees the sweat beading on the defendant’s brow, a predatory smirk curves her lip and she moves in for the kill.

“So let me get this straight, Mr. Carmichael. You just happened to find the gun? The gun that only had your fingerprints on it?”

He growls, fear turning to anger as his cheeks redden.

“That’s what I’ve said fifty times now. You’d think bad memory’d be somethin’ you couldn’t have as a lawyer,” he mocks.

She barely blinks, his anger just making her smirk grow.

“So you’d never seen the victim before? Never talked to him?”

“Never saw the guy,” he agrees with a nod.

Nodding, Angela brought her hand up to tap her chin, making a show of her eyes rolling up to the side in thought.

“Hmm… Something’s odd about that… Something…”

She snaps her fingers, as though just now remembering the piece of paper in her bag, and confidently stalks to her table.

With a flourish, she pulls the photo out, watching him turn several shades paler by the second.

“So, you just swore on the stand you’d never seen the victim. But Mr. Carmichael, how’s that possible? Here’s a photo of you and him when you both got so inebriated and violent they photographed the two of you to make sure their bouncers never let you in again.”

She doesn’t bother shoving the photo in his face.

His pallor tells the jury she doesn’t need to.

“I didn’t-“

“That sounds an awful lot like perjury, to me,” she continues.

Inside, she’s giddy at the luck of how easy getting the photo had been, given where it was taken.

He cringes in response, the sight making her seem just that slightly taller in comparison.

With a sweep of her hand, she indicates the people sitting to her side, all twelve glaring at the man.

“And if you’re willing to lie on the stand, how can anyone in the jury believe anything you’ve said? Believing that you just happened to find the murder weapon was already a stretch, but now-“

“Objection, she’s testifying, your honor,” she interrupted.

The older man behind the dais raises his brow, indicating that she’d better have a response ready.

“Goes to the character of the defendant, your honor. If he’s going to lie and commit a crime over something as small as seeing the victim before, his credibility on something that his future’s riding on should be nil.”

“Overruled,” the judge agrees with a nod. “Tread carefully, Ms. Blanc.”

Her smile takes on a feral quality, and she stalks back to the stand.

Carmichael is squirming now, his suit showing signs of staining.

“So? Any way you can convince your peers that you weren’t the killer?”

Instead of answering, Carmichael silently stares between her and the watchful jury.

She feels her body tensing of its own accord as something works behind his eyes.

She’s ready when his chair clatters loudly to the floor and his wiry frame launches over the witness stand.

“I’ll kill you before they take me, you cocky bi-ugh!”

Before his threat can be fully said, much less actually realized, an elbow jams into his throat.

He falls in a heap to the floor, clutching at his damaged windpipe with eyes as wide as saucers.

The bailiff hauls him to his feet while he continues retching, snot and tears making him appear even less attractive or intimidating.

“Now that wasn’t very smart,” Angela goads easily, her smirk still in place.

The jury stares at her, amazed by her nonchalance over dropping a man twice her weight and almost a full foot taller.

He screams obscenities and threats at her the entire dragged path out of the courtroom.

She merely ticks them in her head, making sure to add each one to his updated list of counts for his sentencing trial.

The doors finally slip closed, cutting off any more of his tirade.

“So… next Tuesday?” Angela inquires with a raised brow.

“One sharp,” the judge agrees.

Nodding, Angela practically skips her way out of the courtroom and to her car without incident.

As she begins driving, she feels her lips curving into a grin.

She loves when they hand her a conviction like that.

Her drive is uneventful, and she finds her mind wandering.

It’s still distracted as she reaches her Victorian two-story and mindlessly slips inside.

A hand fisting in her hair before she’s antalya escort pushed against a wall, though, disperses the fog with a burst of sharp clarity.

Briefly, she wonders if perhaps Mr. Carmichael had somehow followed through on his threat.

When her captor presses close, and very familiar curves press against her back, though, the thought vanishes and is replaced with a very different source of anxiety.

The hand disappears, and a palm ghosts down to cup a breast in replacement.

“Skippin’ work? Naughty, naughty,” a husky voice chides, warm breath playing across the shell of the brunette’s ear.

She shivers, finding soft curves pressing more firmly into her in response.

“G-Got out early. My job’s so easy when they’re guilty and stupid,” she remarks with a smirk.

“Sounds dull.”

“Well, there were thirteen different kinds of threats thrown my way while he was being dragged from the room.”

The woman stiffens briefly against her, a dangerous growl rumbling in the back of her throat.

“Jus’ threats?”

Angela lets out a quiet giggle at the woman’s tone, though it simultaneously stokes the flickering fire in her abdomen a bit more.

“Dumbass went for me over the stand. Had a hard time breathing, when it was over. Not quite on your level, but the jury seemed impressed.”

The woman nods and relaxes once more against her.

“So… no wounds ta’ lick, then?” her girlfriend asks, concern giving way to a breathy husk once more.

At the same time, wet heat flicks across the curve of her ear, drawing yet another bout of shivers from the brunette.

“You’re in a mood,” Angela muses with a grin.

A chuckle rumbles against her, and the other hand slides down from the small of her back to briefly cup her ass.

“Ya’ got me all hyped up ‘fore bailin’ this morn’. Damn near teased me braindead, then ya’ were out the door. Damn right I’m in a mood,” she retorts with her brogue slipping through more than usual.

To accompany her words, Jane leans her head forward and clamps her teeth lightly on Angela’s earlobe.

“E-ever heard of m-masturbation?” the lawyer challenges breathily. “It does wonders.”

The hands grip harder, drawing a squeak from her as heat spreads through her veins.

“When I ‘ave a perfectly good pet who eventyally ‘as ta’ come home? Not hap’nin’,” Jane hisses back.

“And if I hadn’t gotten out early?” the brunette challenges while throwing an amused smirk over her shoulder.

As soon as their faces are mirrored, Jane leans forward and captures her lips.

Angela attempts to turn around, and throw herself fully into her girlfriend’s lips, only for both hands to move.

Lightning fast, her hands are pinned to the wall, and Jane pulls back with a light nip at her lips.

“Uh-uh. Repayment first, play later. Just keep saying what I’ve had on repeat in my head since this morn’.”

“Which is?” Angela asks, only to blush at her surprisingly breathless voice.

Jane grins and leans back into her, lips again resting on her burning ear.

“Anticipation makes it all the sweeter,” the blonde whispers.

Before she can respond, Angela is pulled forward and violently spun around, her back colliding with the wall the next instant.

Jane’s brown eyes are hot with lust as she pins her girlfriend’s shoulder down.

Angela realizes that her earlier expressions hadn’t even begun to touch on feral like Jane’s does.

The look usually reserved for scaring rowdy clubbers is locked on her in full effect, making something deep in her abdomen clench.

She remains silent as she takes in the blonde’s apparel.

Evidently, she hadn’t deigned to change since the morning.

Wrapped only in black sweats and a sports bra, the clothes work together to greatly show off Jane’s muscular figure.

She feels her own nipples hardening at the sight, her nervous swallow loud as a gunshot in the silence.

Somehow, Jane seems to know it, too, her lips parting to show teeth like a circling wolf.

Angela feels pressure on her shoulder, and she lets herself be lowered without protest, her own eyes gaining their own heated glaze.

“Now then. I’m horny as fuck, and you did get home early. Why don’t we use that to our advantage?” Jane asks throatily.

Down on her knees, Angela sees a patch of shininess at the crotch of the blonde’s sweatpants, a faint trace of arousing scent reaching her nose.

“You’re going to get my suit dirty,” she complains, her voice a few pitches higher than Mr. Carmichael or his jury would believe her capable of.

Smirking, Jane lets her hand trail up to her brunette mane before making a firm, but not painfully so, fist.

Angela’s head snaps up, and her eyes widen as she stares up past her girlfriend’s heaving bosom to her dark smile.

“Wouldn’ wan’ tha’. What should we do ’bout tha’, ya’ think?”

Angela’s stomach tightens further, her breath rasping out in a quiet gasp.

“I… could strip?” she ventures.

“Can ya’? Well, tha’s serik escort good ta’ know, though we long figured tha’ out,” Jane remarks with an even wider grin.

Knowing what her girlfriend wants to hear, and what she wants to say, makes Angela’s entire body shudder.

The movement pronounces the hold of her hair more, a brief trickle of discomfort warring with the heat building in her stomach.

“May I strip for you, Mistress?”

The words are delivered in an even higher-pitched voice, more gasp than actual speech.

Jane’s eyes narrow slightly, and the brunette watches with satisfaction as she shivers, as she always does to that particular voice.

While her girlfriend normally loves a tortuously slow strip tease, Angela can tell there’s no patience today, at least at the moment.

When a finger presses into her chin, she rises easily to her feet once more.

“Twenty seconds, or I’ll do worse than make it dirty,” Jane growls out.

The blonde’s lust-laden voice sends a chill down Angela’s spine, and she quickly goes to work unbuttoning her blazer.

She feels eyes burning her every trace of skin as she gradually exposes more of it.

By the time the twenty seconds are up, the brunette’s entire body is colored slightly pinker than normal.

Jane’s eyes glow hungrily as they move from her feet to her head.

Her lips curve into a long smile when she spots the slight shine on Angela’s thighs.

“I’m not the only one in a mood,” she muses.

“Didn’t say you were,” Angela quips easily.

Any more banter is interrupted when Jane grabs her hair, forcing her head to tilt back.

She catches her lips in a searing kiss, tongue and teeth quickly joining the fray.

The light nips and licks quickly enflame the brunette’s lips, sending pulses of sensation straight to her center.

Angela moans at the feeling of hands rubbing figure eights up and down her side.

As soon as she does, Jane’s tongue slips into her mouth, and she eagerly laps at the appendage.

One of the hands moves to her breast, tracing even more random patterns into her sensitive skin while the kiss deepens.

Angela tries to reciprocate, only to find her hands suddenly held against her stomach between them in an iron grip.

When spots start flickering along her vision, Angela forces the kiss to break off.

Their gasping fills the air, and the two share burning stares for a moment.

Finally, Jane deigns to move again.

Jane grabs her hand, then, and quickly drags her back the several steps needed to get into their bedroom.

They stop once they reach the bed, and Angela gulps against her will as her girlfriend’s grin grows even larger.

With a move that Angela wishes she was half graceful enough to pull off, the blonde spins around her and comes to rest on the bed, sitting facing her.

The hand holding hers quickly slips up to her shoulder, and lightly presses.

Angela shudders at the feel of their feathery carpet against her naked legs, small bursts of sensation rising every time she shifts.

The realization that she’s now practically in her girlfriend’s lap just adds to the sensation.

She looks up just in time to see Jane’s eyes flutter, the bouncer’s entire body shivering at the idea, as well.

With a throaty groan, the blonde’s hand moves up to lightly cup the back of her head.

The way she drags Angela’s head forward, pressing her face firmly against the seat of her pants, though, is a sharp contrast to the light touch.

“Don’t worry, baby, you can get my clothes as dirty as ya’ want.”

Angela’s eyes lift up, and she raises a brow at the blonde’s cocky expression.

“Are you making fun of me?”

She notices that Jane bites her lip as soon as she talks, letting her know just how close her mouth, and her warm breath, are to Jane’s pussy.

With a more noticeable blush, Jane grins down at her and pulls her more firmly against her growing wet spot.

“Maybe, a bit.”

Angela clamps her lips onto the damp fabric in response.

She grins when her warm breath buries into the thin cotton, drawing a very quiet moan from the blonde’s parted lips.

“Okay, I’m stoked. Now, be a good girl and strip your Mistress. We’ve got plenty of time ‘afore I hafta’ go, if we use it right,” Jane groans.

Angela quickly leans forward, not bothering to argue against the appealing idea.

She can feel Jane’s surprise as she leans further up, and instead of grabbing at the waistband of her sweats, instead puts her hands on her hips.

Warmth quickly soaks into her hands, and she smirks when Jane shivers under her slightly colder touch.

Still wearing her smirk, she uses her handhold to keep her balance as she almost flops onto the blonde.

With her torso pressed against Jane’s legs, she lets her lips fall to her stomach.

The brunette trails kisses along her quivering abdomen, her mouth dancing over the sensitive flesh as she slowly makes her way down.

When side escort she stops at the waist of her sweatpants and begins lightly flickering her tongue, Jane’s breathing audibly hitches.

The sound of the gasp goes to Angela’s groin, and she feels herself clenching.

Her hands flex on Jane’s hips, and without further adieu, she bites down on the thin cotton.

She feels Jane’s burning stare as she slowly, torturously drags the sweats down her legs.

Every few centimeters, she pauses and moves her mouth, as though the fabric slips from her grip.

During each of these releases, she makes sure to drag her tongue along quivering, burning skin before getting back to stripping her girlfriend.

Before long, she has the sweats down to only half-covering Jane’s pussy.

An evil grin moves across her lips there.

“Ah, did you shave for me, baby?”

Jane groans as the brunette’s words feather across her naked mons.


“You really were eager,” she laughs.

Despite her nearly constant squirming, Jane still manages to give her a somewhat intimidating wolfish grin.

“You have no idea. Now, finish stripping me and get to work, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Angela cants her head to the side, resting her cheek on a quivering thigh as she stares back.

“But I like having hell to pay, remember? It’s one of my charms.”

Jane groans, and her hand shoots down to grab a fistful of hair.

“Different approach. Stop teasing and do what we both want, or I’ll put you in the chastity belt with a vibe set low inside you for my six hour shift tonight,” she growls.

Angela more than matches her groan, and the rumbling sends spark of sensation into her girlfriend’s crotch.

When Jane hisses out, her head bending back for a moment, the brunette decides she’s had her fill of the torment.

“All you had to do was ask, Mistress,” she whispers.

With a giggle at the blonde’s glare, she lets her hands slide down and takes a firm grasp of the cotton.

With a lightning-quick motion, she drags it the rest of the way off, revealing metres of tanned, muscular legs.

As soon as the sweats are off, Angela moves back in.

Angela barely even registers what’s happening in her addled state by the time her legs are up and over the brunette’s shoulder.

When a tongue laps at her lower lips, though, she comes out of her stupor with a gasp.

Angela grins into her girlfriend’s pussy as she begins squirming against her face.

After the first few licks, the taste really hits her, and she releases an embarrassing moan into Jane’s thigh.

The vibrations just make the blonde squirm more, which sends the growing fire in both women even hotter.

A hand again cups the back of her head, though she no longer needs any encouragement as she begins lapping at her girlfriend’s wet labia.

Deciding she wants to see how fast she can actually make the blonde cum, she begins flicking her tongue against the sensitive flesh, while also moving her head in slow circles.

Soon, her saliva coats Jane from one thigh to the other, more than mingling with the increasing flow of the blonde’s own fluids.

The scent completely floods Angela’s senses, and she soon finds one of her hands moving to between her legs.

With the other, she eagerly slips first one, then another finger into Jane’s tight tunnel.

The muscles quiver and clench as she begins setting up a rhythm inside her girlfriend.

On each push deeper inside with her fingers, she licks down one of Jane’s labia.

She laps up the other side each time she pulls them back out until just her fingertips remain inside.

This rhythm goes on for a torturously long time, and Angela makes sure to slow each time the blonde almost peaks.

A cruel side of her loves hearing the incoherent babbling that eventually starts slipping from her usually collected girlfriend.

“Please! Nnneed… ugh… cum!” is among the more comprehendible of the senses, and it’s the one that Angela uses as a signal.

She pushes her fingers slightly deeper than she’d previously reached, and begins rapidly scissoring them against Jane’s walls.

At the same time, she moves her mouth up and lets her tongue lightly flicker against the blonde’s exposed clit.

The two forces combine, and in seconds, Jane’s back arches like a taut bow.

Her mouth opens, and an animalistic howl fills the bedroom as cum gushes into the brunette’s open mouth.

She continues her ministrations, drawing more and more orgasms from the seemingly mindless bouncer.

Finally, though, the flow starts to wane, and Angela finally pulls back with one last kiss to each of Jane’s thighs.

She feels cum covering the lower half of her face, and finds herself reveling in the expression locked onto the blonde’s face.

Shuddering breaths are the only sound the bouncer can manage for a small eternity, before her heart gradually slows to an approximation of its normal pace.

Only then does she open her eyes and look down her body.

Seeing Angela’s face shining brings a grin to her lips.

“Taste good?”

In response, Angela grins right back and slowly makes a show of lapping her shining fingers clean.

“Worth the wait?” she challenges back.

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