Authors: Evie Adams
Reasonable Doubts (8 page)
In poker, you often study the other player's face and especially their eyes, to look for tells, to read their mind for some sign of what they're holding.
“I raise,” I told her, and threw two red chips into the pot, just to gauge her reaction.
In liar’s poker, a person’s tells are even more pronounced. The other person holds their card on their forehead and you do the same, so you play the other person’s cards, not your own. The only way to tell what you have is by judging their face.
Naked liar's poker made it awfully hard to concentrate, but the naked body has a whole other series of tells.
She was showing a five of hearts on her forehead, but she was so damn confident, her eyes were mischievous, dancing at me, so I must have been showing something terrible too.
"I re-raise,” she said as she grabbed a handful of chips and tossed them in, “However many reds . . . and a blow job."
"Do I get to give you a blowjob? Because I'm not doing it to someone else."
"Yes, of course," she laughed, her tits bouncing, as she held the card to her forehead.
"Then I'm all-in," she looked at me and said, "I was bluffing, you have an ace."
"You're a terrible liar, you have a five.”
“I never said I folded, I'll call you, you have a four."
"You cheated!"
"You cheated at that drinking game, and this is called liar’s poker, you’re supposed to lie.” Her eyes twinkled again, “Does that mean you're not going to pay up?”
“No, I don't welch, I have high moral standards, I'll pay, but so will you.”
“Pay up, and tell me I'm an excellent liar."
“You’re the best,” I told her, and meant it. Her belly was soft but flat, her skin like cream. I dipped into her belly button, her hands in my hair, pressing my head down. I followed her direction as she spread her pussy lips with her fingers. “Beautiful,” I said, perhaps to myself. I was anticipating the taste of her, the feel of her flesh against my tongue, the tangy sweetness of her pussy. I licked my lips and explored her with my fingers and my tongue
"Mmmmm you taste like a peach," I said as I slipped two fingers easily inside of her, pumping gently, feeling her begin to fuck me back.
"Your tongue, you lost," she reminded me, arching toward my mouth. I indulged her, flicking the tip of my tongue back and forth over her clit, teasing as I fingered her, wanting to keep her on the edge, panting. Her flesh gave in slowly as I thrust my fingers deeper.
"Come on," she urged, lifting her hips completely off the bed. "Pay up, pay up," she said with eager eyes and a greedy smile.
I already had two fingers pumping but I slipped another in, twisting so all three would fit, stretching her wide. She drew her breath in sharply tugged at her own nipples, grinding her hips against my hand.
"Ah," she cried, thrashing, rolling her hips. Her pussy was sloppy-wet, bathing me down to my wrist with her juices. Her eyes were only partially open as she looked at me, her eyes full of lust. I knew she must be close. She grabbed my hair, pulling, as she shoved my face against her cunt.
"Your mouth, please," she begged.
I covered her with my mouth, sucking her clit. Her whole body tensed, her toes curling, and she screamed with her orgasm. I could barely breathe as I watched her climax, her muscles constricting again and again.
“You have a beautiful kitchen and you don’t cook?” She asked, as if that was a surprise.
“If by ‘cook’ you mean reheat takeout in the microwave, then yes, I cook.”
“You did make poached eggs, that was nice, but this is like a professional kitchen. You can’t waste it on eggs and reheating.”
“I’ll waste it however I want thanks. I’ll order Chinese?”
“Okay,” she relented and traced her hands over the stove, in disappointment.
We ate Chinese and put in a movie, huddled together on the couch. "My favorite legal movie, My Cousin Vinny."
She sat up, excited, "We watched this in evidence class, it's just about perfect for the evidence rules."
"Just about, we watched it too, and I wrote a paper on the problems."
"You take a perfect movie and find the problems in it? Sounds like you."
"Haven't found anything wrong with you yet."
"Yet."
I ran my fingers through her hair and tugged her back to lean against me. “It’s a great movie about winning. About the odds being against you and having one of those miracle moments.”
She turned to me, stared at me with those beautiful speckled eyes, golden freckles like fireworks in them, “You're missing the message, it's about how they work together, and both get better. Help, cooperation, that’s the message."
“I thought the message was ‘don’t go to Alabama’.” Trying to change the subject before I got lost in those eyes and said something I wasn’t ready to, something I didn’t understand yet, something I might regret.
“I’ve been, it’s lovely actually. Even though it rained most of the time.”
“It’s wet?” I asked, suggestively, trying to change the subject.
“It is,” she said, coyly, “Want to feel how wet I am for you?” she offered, guiding my hand down between her legs. She nudged her panties aside and let me feel the swollen lips, the way they parted for my finger as I delved inside was enough to make me crazy.
She squealed when I reached down and grabbed her hips, I planned to make her squeal much more, my face went down, to lap at her pussy again, she stopped me, “Please, I want you. Just fuck me, don’t compete, just fuck me.”
Struggling to sit, she reached for me but I was already over her, she pulled my cock out and kissed me, pulling me into her. She slid her hand behind my neck and pulled me into a kiss.
I moaned into her mouth. She sucked at my tongue as her hand moved to take hold of my cock and guide me inside. She was over-wet, slick and hot and I slid in easily, burying myself deep. She held onto me, wrapping her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, her mouth never leaving mine.
I fucked her. I fucked her without thought or reason, thrusting deep and hard and fast, my cock feeling every delicious ridge and twist and turn of her body as we rocked together, the couch shaking under our weight. She kept her mouth locked on mine, our kiss hard and fierce, just like our fucking. She kept her eyes open, on me, locked to mine.
I was past the point of caring, she climaxed, her heels digging into the small of my back, her nails raking my shoulders, and I felt every sweet flutter of her pussy around my cock as I ground my hips and sent her flying. She gasped, “Jake,” breathlessly, begging me for more, but I couldn’t hear her, I only felt her, I grabbed her hips, her ass, driving in as deep as I could, bottoming out with every thrust, making her squeak delightfully in my ear.
My cock swelled to bursting and then it did, boiling up from base to tip, erupting into the slick, hot sheath of her pussy. She exhaled and looked up at me, nibbled my chin as I exploded into her, sending shivers down my spine as her muscles milked me. I thrust lost in it, trying to empty myself completely into her.
“It just keeps getting better doesn’t it?” I said when I came back to the world.
“I know, I thought it was just me for a second.” She smiled, and hugged me closer to her, she held onto me as we watched the rest of the movie, both laughing at the same spots.
I love this.
We still had the work files we had brought to the bar the day before, but it felt strange going through them wearing his shirt.
“I need some clothes and work files if we're going to do work.” I told him.
“Work? Why don’t we just continue doing what we’ve been doing? Or work naked?”
“Naked work, that's an idea.”
“How about a date? A real date? Dinner, drinks, maybe dancing. I want to take you out. For real. A real date.”
A real date. “That's another idea.” The idea and the almost sheepish way he said it warmed me. I still wasn't sure what this was. The start of something? A regret? A lost weekend of fun? I just tried to not think about it, but the way he looked at me, my hopes were up.
“I'm not sure if I want to put the pressure of a date on myself or on you.” Sometimes you have to hold a man -and yourself- like an egg, gently, or else it'll crack and leave a big mess.
“There's no pressure. I want to take you out and imagine taking off all your clothes, I want to need and desire and do anything to take you home, here again. I want to think about it all through dinner, I want to make you laugh and seduce you and have you drive me crazy the whole time. I don't date, but I want to take you on a real date. And I want to take you back here and fuck you all Sunday.”
“Have you ever been on a date?”
He half smiled and flashed those dimples at me, “Define date.”
“I accept. One date, we’ll see how you do.”
“One date is all I think I need.”
“We’ll see.”
I made the walk of shame in my wrinkled clothes, but I felt a rush, like falling over a cliff. The rush I used to feel when I had a big case in front of a jury. My stomach flipped and I focused on the good, and the gnawing anxiety, the doubts crept in.
Jake had his good qualities, but monogamy, loyalty were not very strong ones for him. Other men had let me down before, but this feeling was new. It was exactly like a great case. Exhilarating, frightening, my blood boiled, flowed, I felt alive. Maybe too alive.
I had destroyed a few relationships too with my cases. Men strayed, but when I had a great case, I sort of ignored them, forgot about them, pursued the important thing.
This felt the same.
I stopped doing cases because of that. The overwhelming effect they have on my personal life. The key difference here was Jacob would be my personal life, but I hoped a tornado in my personal life wouldn’t affect the professional one I had compartmentalized so well.
In a case I was alone, on a high wire by myself. Maybe this would be different, two people on a high wire.
I got to my apartment and ran the water for a shower, trying to relax, to not overthink. I let the water run, too warm, but just right.
I spent some time shaving my cunt bare, the little strip was fun and he didn't cringe at it like most men.
He said,
I like a little, it reminds me I'm not fucking a 12 year old.
God that was hot.
I shaved a little landing strip, neat and trim, and imagined his lips over it, his tongue. My god I was wrong about him. I could almost feel his dimples when he went down on me.
I shaved my legs and finally sat at the mirror, the one person I could never bullshit was myself. I put on makeup and looked at myself, scared, excited, a gambler.
Maybe this would work. Maybe that as the help I needed, maybe I was the help he needed.
Either fold or go all-in right?
I had a text from him:
At Barristers. Meet for a quick drink then we go out. Bring your bag, we can put it in my car.
There it is. All the chips in the pot. I gulped, this was it.
“OK”, I texted and left.
