To start with, a rather blunt authors note.
I make no promises, but I do make apologises. I do not promise to update this at all until Mile High is much further in, or even completed, and I apologize for that. I can't even promise you this will get finished, but I'm hopeful. I've just got my fingers crossed that you all like it. Read and review, let me know whether or not you love or hate my OOC portrayals.
And now, on with the show.
I run a law firm. A fucking good one at that. Eighty percent success rate—even when the client's guilty—and the lips of every judge in the state on my ass. I want the case dismissed, the fucking case gets dismissed. I want to drag it on, the case will still be in court a year from now. I want... well, you get the picture.
I crack the whip and everyone jumps, I should know—I have the whip.
One day, I got curious and cracked it on the table during a conference. It got the attention of every person in the room.
There was just one person that I actually want to hit with the whip. Rosalie Hale.
Sometimes I just want to storm up to her and... Pin her down then fuck the bitch right out of her. Holy shit, I've got it bad. By 'it' I would be referring to the major case of target fixation I have developed over the past two years.
Whichever lawyer it was that made the standard dress code for this type of work a pencil skirt and a fitted shirt, I want to thank them. Profusely. The tight skirts all the girls scurry about in, shirts tucked in at the waist leaving very little to my impatient imagination when it comes to their figure, but everything when it comes to the unique details I'm salivating to discover.
What color was each of their nipples? Strawberry pink? Light brown? Dark brown? Almost matching to the rest of their breast? I had to know, and at some point I will. I will conquer them all.
But right now it's back to my single-minded obsession. Rosalie's nipples, Rosalie's pussy, Rosalie's belly button even. I had a strange compulsion to find out whether it was an innie, outie or something in between.
Did she like her nipples licked or sucked? A moaner of a screamer? Top or bottom? Doggie or body-to-body? So many questions, all of which I need answered.
And this last case file was the perfect reason to get her in my office, alone.
"Angela, reschedule my next appointment and get Miss Hale in here," I ordered through the intercom.
"Sure, Mr. Cullen. When do you want me to move the appointment to?" Angela's innocent voice asked. She was one of the exceptions to my fantasies. It's not that she wasn't hot, she was, but she always had her hair in a pony tail or even little barrettes and it ruined the fantasy. She simply looked too young.
"See if they'll come in at six-thirty tomorrow morning, if not, I'll see them at five-thirty tomorrow afternoon," I suggested, she was smart, she'd figure it out one way or the other.
"All right, and I'll get Miss Hale for you, sir," she replied happily.
"Thank you," I said quickly, letting go of the button a moment later.
I opened the file, red pen all over the page from where I'd marked every possible mistake. Spelling, grammar, punctuation, the lot. She put a comma instead of a semi-colon, I circled it.
My dick practically jumped in my pants at the sound. "Come in," I called with a bite to my voice. I had to play this up to the maximum amount.
The door opened and blonde, leggy, big breasted Rosalie Hale walked in. Slender hourglass figure swaying in her work clothes. "You asked to see me?" she questioned, shutting the door behind herself.
"Yes." I sighed impatiently.
"Okay..." She walked over, but didn't take a seat until I nodded to the one on my right. "Thank you."
"Miss Hale, do you see something wrong with this?" I pushed the folder over the table to the opposite side.
She picked it up and glanced over the document before putting it back on the table. "Well, it appears to be bleeding for starters. Did you just discover the red pen, sir?" she asked, laughing a couple of times until she realized I wasn't. "Sorry."
"No, Rosalie, I didn't, but it would appear that you know nothing about the English language or the proper manner for writing out a legal document." I reached back across the table and picked up the first piece of paper. "We're worried about the turn out... Rosalie, is this the hood? Do we abbreviate words like that?"
She started to explain, but I cut her off. That didn't go over well. She sucked in a sharp breath and went perceptibly more rigid.
"I really don't care; you should have fixed it before you wasted another sheet of paper on an error filled mess." I whacked the paper back down on the desk and sat back in my chair.
"First of all, I do know how to write a legal document. I am not a moron. Second, it was abbreviated like that because it was part of the witness statement and that's how she wrote it, you dumb assed fuck witt. And third, you can stick your fucking job up your ass along with the pole I am sure is already there. Good afternoon, have a nice day, I hope you keel over and die. Smug cunt." She stood up from my five hundred dollar seat and spun on her six hundred dollar heels to walk out my three hundred dollar door and then out of my two million dollar building.
"STOP!" I demanded my voice was low and almost growling. I got out of my seat when she stopped just short of the door. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
She spun around just as fast as she had when she turned away and glared at me. If looks could kill I'd be dead.
Dead and horny.
"I'm quitting, and since I'm quitting I feel I should give you something in return. A tip. Get a different hair style, you look like a gay porn star! she spat furiously.
My nostrils flared and my teeth mashed together, my head was telling me not to let her get under my skin, to play it hard. But other parts wanted her to anger me.
I folded my arms—in part to restrain myself—and glared back at her. "You walk out that door and you will never work as a lawyer for anything other than small claims court, paid for by the state to represent crack whores."
She knew it was true, it was, it had happened before. They'd leave, be unable to get a job anywhere else and end up fighting to keep a hooker out of jail for possession.
"I pick up my phone and within ten minutes you're unemployable. Starbucks wouldn't touch you when I'm finished. Don't you get it, Rosalie? I hired you straight out of law school, any new place is going to want a reference from your last boss and who is that, sweetcheeks?" I raised my eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn't stupid, the girl had graduated from Harvard with flying colors and was the reason my success rate was so high.
"That's right, baby. Try finding a job when I tell anyone who rings that you're an unfocused mess who's incapable of following orders and has an attitude into the bargain. Face it, your ass is mine." In more fucking ways than one when I'm done.
"I would rather serve beer and hotdogs, working in New Jersey than spend one more week with you," she snarled then began turning around yet again.
"Two week's notice!" I yelled, reminding her of that section of the employment contract. She paused again. Ah ha! Forgot about that, didn't you? "You signed the contract, two week's notice. Now get back to your office and fix this." I knocked on the desk to indicate the file.
"You are aware that I could run this company into the ground in that space of time?" she shouted threateningly, not turning back again.
"You're not that smart." I laughed, impugning her intelligence was a sure fire way to get any lawyer pissed off. Especially the girls, they were all pit bulls deep down.
"Not that fucking smart." Rosalie laughed too, much darker than me though. "Cullen, this is two week's notice." She spun around and snatched the file from me then returned to the door.
Wait? What? This was not the plan, it was meant to end in me throwing everything off my desk and pounding my cock into her relentlessly until we were both screaming in pleasure.
"That's Mister Cullen to you, bitch!" I said in a whispered hiss. Never in my life had one woman called me so many insulting things, spoken to me in such a tone.
She slammed the door shut and I slumped back in my chair. It was clear now what had to be done. It wouldn't even take two weeks to pull it off.
"I have to fuck Rosalie into submission," I sighed unfortunately. "She will be my greatest conquest. As well as sore."
I rocked back in my chair and looked at the ceiling, hatching my plan. It would be quite simple really, she wasn't a hard safe to crack and it would only take once to show her that no one fucks with me.
I leant forward again and pressed the intercom button. "Angela?"
"Yes, sir," she responded instantly.
"Did you cancel that appointment yet?"
"Ah... no, sorry, Mr. Cullen. I'll do it rig—"
"No, no. Don't worry about it, I'll see them now. But keep my afternoon clear for tomorrow. No one after five unless they have presidential or royal family status," I ordered firmly. If it were light she'd be more inclined to tell people, "I'll just see if he will, he might."
"Okay, sir. Do you want your lunch before or after they arrive?" she asked, dutiful as ever.
"Not today, thank you."
"Okay, bye." She waited for me to disconnect her, well aware that I sometimes change my mind at the last second. I pressed the button again and rocked back in my chair.
What shall I call this entry? I thought, staring up at the ceiling while swaying side to side in my chair. I vaulted upright as inspiration hit me. Reaching into my bottom draw, I pulled out my brown leather diary and opened to the next clear page.
THE DEADLINE I wrote at the top in bold letters, going over them a couple of times in the black pen.
Then I opened the personnel files on the computer and printed out Rosalie's picture. The printer fucked up and made an ink spot right over her lips, a little black mark beneath her nose.
She looks like Hitler...
I snorted a laugh and glued the picture to the middle of the page. Underneath I wrote: Two weeks. My deadline.
I'd fuck her into submission or let her leave with a glowing recommendation as a mark of my failure.
Thanks for reading :D Lettuce know what you think/want to happen.