The Palpable ProsecutorChapter 17
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She spent the rest of the evening looking at her nails. She asked both marshals what they thought and, of course, both said it looked very nice.
“It looks so strange,” she said, more than once.
After supper Lacey asked Bob to come to her bedroom for a minute. When they got there, she posed, with her hands on her hips.
“This polish doesn’t look good against this blouse,” she said. “The colors clash.”
“I only got one color of polish, Lacey.”
“I have more tops,” she said. “I need your opinion on which one looks best with my new nails.”
“Okay.”
She unbuttoned the apricot blouse and shrugged it off. She paused, to see if he was looking at her bra. Of course he was.
“You choose,” she said, just standing there.
“Okay,” he said. He knew the other blouse she’d bought was a pale, mint green. Other than that, all she had were white blouses that closed high on her neck. There really wasn’t much for him to choose from, which meant this was a game of some sort.
He got the green blouse out of her closet and held it up to cover her upper torso.
“The whole idea of the polish is to bring out your sexuality,” he mused. “Let’s try an experiment.”
“What kind of experiment?” she asked.
“Take off your bra.”
“Take off my bra?”
“Yes. I want to see just how much of your sexuality we can bring out.”
“I’m still not used to working the clasp. I might chip my nails,” she said, turning her back to him.
He unclipped her bra and pushed it forward, off her shoulders. As it slid down her arms to her wrists, he slid his hands around her to cup her heavy breasts.
“Bob!” she said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting you ready to put on the other blouse,” he said.
He found and twiddled her nipples, making them turgid. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and sighed.
As soon as her nipples were nice and hard, he stopped and held the blouse for her to slip her arms into. This one was also a rayon mix, with no pattern in it at all. As she buttoned it, her nipples imprinted plainly on the front. Standing behind her again, Bob undid her jeans and tucked in the blouse. He let his hand slip too far down into the front of her jeans and heard her hiss. Then he moved her to stand where she could see herself in the mirror. He put her hands on her hips again, like she’d had them before.
“See how your nipples show through the blouse?” he whispered.
She nodded.
“That’s unbelievably sexy. Now look at the nails. They go with the color of the shirt perfectly.”
She nodded again.
“And your hair. See how it spills down onto your shoulders? Men love long hair like that. We want to run our fingers through it as we kiss you.”
“But they don’t kiss me,” she said, breathing deeply.
“They imagine kissing you. And when they see those dents in your blouse, they imagine seeing your nipples ... sucking your nipples.”
“Bob,” she moaned. “You’re getting me excited! That’s crazy! I don’t want other men imagining all those things. Why am I excited?”
“Because you have excited me. You look excited, and that looks sexy.”
“I can’t go out in public like this,” she said. “I look like a trollop.”
“You look like a healthy, young woman in the prime of her life,” he said. “Now, turn around.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re not finished yet.”
“Oh.”
He unbuttoned the green blouse and left her standing topless while he hung it up. He pulled one of her white blouses from a hanger and took it to her. She let him slide it up her arms and onto her shoulders, but when she reached to button it he stopped her.
“Just need to make sure those nipples are ready to do their part,” he said.
He leaned down and sucked at one, briefly. Her indrawn gasp was accompanied by her hands, landing on his shoulders. They stayed there as he moved to the other nipple and slurped at it gently.
“I had no idea wearing fingernail polish could be so ... intense,” she murmured.
He stood back up and buttoned up the blouse. Turning her around, he tucked it in in the same fashion he had before, this time “accidentally” slipping his fingers inside her panties to tease her pubic hair. When he was finished, she was panting gently. He put his hands on her hips.
“You can just barely see the darkness of your nipples through the white fabric,” he whispered into her ear. She shivered.
“I can’t do this in public, either,” she said.
“Obviously,” he agreed. “But a lacy bra, that wasn’t white, would also show through and still preserve your modesty, while accenting your femininity.”
“I have T shirts,” she said.
He grinned. She liked playing this game.
“We should definitely try them too,” he said.
Three T shirts later, her nipples had been sucked to impossibly stiff points, and she was wiggling with the intensity of her emotions.
“I feel like ... I want to rub,” she panted.
“It’s not bedtime,” he teased.
“Bob!” she moaned.
“I’ll rub you later,” he said. “I promise.”
“I need to be rubbed now,” she complained.
“Anticipation is part of the fun,” he said.
“I don’t like you very much right now,” she pouted.
“You like me just fine,” he said, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts.
“Stop it!” She pushed his hands away. “If you’re not going to help me, then at least stop teasing me.”
“Teasing you is part of the fun, too,” he said.
He left her alone in her bedroom so she could calm down. He hoped he was handling this the right way. She was uncharted territory, and he wasn’t sure just how to proceed. There were most definitely shoals in the water that could put holes in things and result in a wreck. He didn’t want that.
He reflected on how he’d told her he wasn’t trying to seduce her. Had she confronted him about that he would have confessed that, somehow, his intentions had morphed a bit. There was nothing else you could call what he’d just done to her than seduction. But he still felt compelled to give her time to think ... time to decide what she wanted to do. And didn’t want to do. On the other hand, he was pretty sure she was going through something that most girls experienced when they were in their early teens. She had a crush on him. She was seducing herself.
Most crushes end relatively quickly, because society encourages crushes to end quickly. Society thinks it knows what is and is not true love, and so sets up a whole track, full of hurdles it thinks will “teach” a young woman what “love” means. From Bob’s perspective, though, at least philosophically, he thought it was possible that the crush a thirteen-year-old girl had might become true love ... if only society allowed it to flower normally. Nobody knew if that was true or not, because nobody would allow a thirteen-year-old girl to follow that path to where it would logically end.
What made things different in this situation was that Lacey was no thirteen-year-old girl. She might have the experience of a teen, but she had the options of an adult. She wanted to be his girlfriend. She still didn’t embrace all the things that usually entailed, but she wanted to keep taking tentative steps down that path.
When she came out, she was wearing a T shirt. And a bra. That was fine. She ignored him, and that was fine, too.
“I’m going to make a casserole for dinner,” she announced to the room in general. Len was sitting at the front door and said, “I’m in.”
Bob said he had an errand to run, and that he’d be back for supper. Then he left, telling Tom the same thing.
He went to the store where she’d bought her bras, and told the sales girl her bra size, which he’d seen when he removed her bra for their little game.
“Bra sizes are just a guide,” said the woman. “She should really try things on to get the right fit.”
“Can she bring them back and exchange them if the fit isn’t right?” he asked.
“Within 48 hours,” said the woman.
He bought her three sets of underwear in matching colors. He got pale blue, a tan shade, and a black set. They were from different designers, which meant they all looked a little different. In particular the style of the panties differed. The blue set had panties that the woman called boy shorts. The tan ones looked like a relatively conservative bikini bottom to him. The black ones had very slim sides that rose high on the hips, with thin triangular wedges in the front and back.
“Most women prefer to choose their own lingerie,” said the woman as she rang up the sales.
“She’s pretty conservative,” said Bob. “All I’m trying to do is stretch her horizons a little. If she doesn’t like them she can bring them back and choose whatever she likes.”
“If she likes you she’ll keep them,” said the woman. “After all, while wearing things like this makes us feel good, showing them to our men is just as important. And she’ll know you already like them.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Bob.
He was almost out of the store when he remembered the fingernail polish remover.
When he went to get that, he ended up getting her three more bottles of polish. He got a coral shade to go with the apricot blouse, forest green to go with the green blouse, and bright red just for fun.
That night he presented her with the new lingerie. She examined it, carefully.
“You teased me today,” she accused.
“I did,” he confessed.
“Now you’re teasing me with this.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You want me to look sexy.”
“Okay.”
“And when I look sexy, I feel sexy.”
“That’s good,” he said.
“Not if you won’t help me when I feel that way,” she complained.
“I’ll be happy to help you,” he said. “But sometimes it isn’t appropriate.”
“What was wrong with this afternoon?”
“Len would have noticed that we were missing in action.”
“So? Didn’t Tom say they all knew what we were doing?”
“Yes, but like you said, this is all new. I want you to have ample time to think about things, and decide what you want to do.”
“I wanted you to rub me,” she said, firmly.
“Do you want me to rub you right now?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m mad at you.”
“Well, why don’t you try on your new undies, then?”
“Because I can already tell they’ll make me feel sexy,” she said.
“And you don’t want to feel sexy right now,” he guessed.
“If I start feeling sexy I won’t be able to stay mad at you,” she said.
“At last, you’re starting to sound like a normal woman,” he sighed.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that I am beginning to no longer anticipate what you’ll say or do. You’re becoming mysterious.”
“Really?” She sounded pleased. She had never thought of herself as being mysterious.
“I’m sorry I teased you,” he said. “I won’t do that again.”
“I loved it,” she sighed. “But it made me want to be naked with you.”
“I confess that’s what I hoped it would do.”
“Then why wouldn’t you do that?” she asked.
“Truthfully?”
“Of course truthfully!” she snapped.
“Remember how I said I wasn’t trying to seduce you?”
She nodded.
“Well, it turns out I guess I am trying to seduce you.”
“Is that all?”
“It means I want to take your virginity,” he reminded her.
“I know that,” she said. “You admitted that a long time ago. Or at least it seems like a long time ago. And if I ever do let a man do that, it will probably be you. I can’t imagine being with any other man like that. But that’s in the future, so just remember that.”
“I will,” he said. “And I promise not to tease you unless we can do something about it.”
“You can tease me a little,” she said. “This afternoon was teasing me a lot.”
“I stand ready to relieve your stress,” he offered.
“I can try these on tomorrow,” she said.
Then she got naked, climbed into bed, and demanded that he make her feel like he’d made her feel the last time.
He took his time, teasing her until she was gasping for air and pleading for completion.
Then he kissed her while he sped up enough to make an orgasm course through her flailing body.
Bob slept with Lacey every night, now. She was eminently satisfied with having a single orgasm, brought on by the action of his fingers on her clitoris and his lips on her nipples. He didn’t tell her there was much more she could look forward to. She wouldn’t have understood how that could be possible. He was also happy with her delight in being able to stroke him until he spurted. He thought it was funny, in a way. Had he run into any of his old warrior buddies, and told them what kind of sexual relationship he had with a woman, they’d have laughed their asses off. And if he’d told them he was satisfied with things at that level, they’d have assumed he was suffering from PTSD, and had gone ‘ round the bend.
Then, almost suddenly, it was time for Lacey to don her working clothes and go back to court. Bob watched her get dressed. He was pleased that she decided to wear a bra, though she picked the plain white one to wear under her high-necked white blouse. But, because of the bra, he felt safe in suggesting that, instead of her customary bun, she sweep her hair back and use one of the hair clips he’d gotten her.
She agreed, choosing the jeweled butterfly clip and was mildly astonished when so many people said they were glad she was okay, and that her hair looked great that way.
Bob got a curt nod from the judge when everyone was told to be seated, and Judge Gardner looked around the courtroom.
“There have been enough delays,” he said. “This trial is going to move forward, or the attorneys of record will answer to me. Is that clear?”
He got two, “Yes, Your Honor,”s and promptly ruled on the matter that had been before the bench when Lacey collapsed.
Two days later, jury selection began.
And three days after that, the mob tried again.
It was Aleksey’s idea that they went with this time, using a local gang as their proxy. The gang was called the Black Spades, and the scheme they used on Lacey was one they’d used successfully five or six times before. This job had hazards the previous ones had not, primarily the fact that feds were guarding the target. But gang members had lost their fear of taking on cops years before, so all that required was deciding how to neutralize the feds. It was decided that killing them would be counterproductive, because it would bring too much heat.
They decided to only disable her guards, and then do what they loved doing.
Mei
- 10.10.2022
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