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I need you to run down a client’s story. Everybody else I asked wants a hundred dollars an hour and the client can’t afford that,” John said.“So now you are taking on clients below the poverty level,” I asked.“It’s one of those cases I have been assigned by the presiding judge,” John explained.“Tell me you aren’t going to offer me minimum wage to run down some homeless guy’s alibi,” I suggested. “Just plead him out and move on.”“I can’t do that. It’s a woman with a child, and she is innocent,” he said.“John, unless it’s your mother, you can plead her out,” I said.“It’s Linda.” he replied.“Linda Abrams, Barry’s ex and Megan’s mother?” I asked. “That Linda?”“Yes, that Linda,” John said.“Did she finally kill Barry?” I asked.“First of all nobody killed Barry,” John said.“Shit there goes any chance of a story with a happy ending,” I said. “So what did she do?”“She didn’t do anything. Barry claims she assaulted him Thanksgiving night,” John said. Then added, “she didn’t do it.”“Hell, she. It hurt. The sharp sting travelled from my ass cheeks to my pussy; my clit throbbing and twitching as you spanked harder.I was dripping wet!I drew you closer to me, crushing my breasts into your chest, trembling as your hands moved upwards. Your long-nailed fingers slid underneath my blouse – goosebumps erupting on my skin as you scratched gently, slowly, on my soft skin.Then your hands moved down to my waist and clamped on it, pulling me on your hard bulge – back and forth – as my slippery pussy rubbed against it through your pants. My juice, soaking my panties as I moved faster.The streets roared with noise: car horns, music and the occasional loud sirens blared from below – but all I could hear was your loud breathing as your tongue danced in my mouth, as your hands slid upwards to cup my breast, squeezing them hard."Play with my tits," I whispered.Your cock throbbed in your pants, the engorged thing poked into my pussy, pushing my drenched panties deeper into my cunt."Lunch.
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