Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
We reach the stairs, and my hand settles at Lori’s back, which could be considered an innocent touch to a casual bystander, but of course, there is nothing innocent about the way I touch or think about this woman. I guide her forward and allow her to climb the short set of steps before me, also allowing me to enjoy the view of her heart-shaped beautiful ass in the process that only gets better naked and in my hands. Once we board the private jet, settle into luxurious side-by-side seats in the center of the plane, Lori by the window and me at the aisle, a flight attendant introduces herself. “I’m Katy. I’ll be taking care of you on the flight. Can I get you both a drink to start off the flight?”
I glance at her long enough to note her red hair, and age her at twenty-something, and only then because she’s offered us drinks. “Whiskey neat,” I say, glancing at Lori. “Are you a wine or whiskey girl this flight?”
“Coffee, please,” she says primly when we both know she’s far from prim. “Lots of cream and Splenda.”
The flight attendant hurries away and I turn to Lori. “We’re going to be in the air for six hours,” I remind her. “You can drink if you want to drink.”
“I’m a bad drinker,” she reminds me, lowering her tray table to set her MacBook on top. “Have you forgotten the wine?”
“I don’t remember anything bad about the night we drank wine together except you leaving, and you can’t leave this time.”
“I’m not leaving this time,” she says, which is the exact answer I’m looking for. “I’m going to stay around and own you this time.”
I laugh. “Own me, sweetheart,” I say, and I’m not above having a momentary fantasy of her naked body draped over my lap again, only this time her mouth is on my cock, which motivates me to add, “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Why do I know you just had a dirty thought?” she asks, opening her computer.
“Because I did,” I say, leaning closer. “Would you like me to share it?”
“No,” she says quickly. “You have a client to call, remember?”
“Never trust a flight attendant or much of anyone with our case work. We’re waiting until we have our drinks and they pull the curtain. And that’s not paranoid. I know an attorney who ran his mouth on a flight. He later found out that the flight attendant had been paid by opposing counsel to listen in on his conversations. Needless to say, the case took a brutally bad turn for him and his client. They lost.”
“I would have never been paranoid enough to worry about such a thing,” she admits. “Lesson learned and thankfully not the hard way.”
“It’s a good reason to never use your client’s name in public, and a lesson I’ve learned personally from experience, don’t say anything on the phone you don’t want recorded.”
“You’ve had that happen?”
“Once,” I say. “I almost lost the case over something that wasn’t at all what it was made out to be by the prosecution.”
“But you didn’t lose.”
“That’s the thing about a winning record,” I say. “Anyone who has one, has skill and luck.”
“Whiskey neat and coffee,” Katy says, reappearing with our drinks.
“How long until lift-off?” I ask Katy, accepting my glass from her, while Lori fires up the power on her MacBook.
“Another fifteen minutes,” she says. “That’s a slight delay, I know, but the pilot assures me we’ll make it up in the air.”
I glance at my watch, which now reads one o’clock in the morning. “Arrival time will be four in the morning LA time?” I ask.
“I’ll confirm the exact time after consulting the pilot’s flight plan,” she says. “Will you both be wanting snacks or sandwiches tonight once we’re in the air?”
“Yes,” I say, since I doubt Lori has eaten any more recently than me and to speed this up. “For now,” I say, “we need privacy to make a few private phone calls.”
“Yes, of course,” she says, hurrying away, and pulling the curtain shut behind her.
“Didn’t you say you represented this new client’s father?”
“Correct,” I confirm.
“Then why did she need to call Ashley in Paris to get your number? I assume with as high a profile as her father’s case was, you gave him your cell phone number. Are they estranged?”
Most people wouldn’t catch that little detail when they should. I’m impressed, but not surprised. “Her father is in Europe and apparently she couldn’t reach him,” I say, “or that’s what she told Ashley.” I motion to the computer. “Are you connected to the internet? Can you search his name for anything new I don’t know about?”
“I already did that while you were talking to Katy,” she says, “and on a cursory glance there is nothing worth mentioning.”