Updated: June 18, 2023

Clay

            I saw her walk into the lobby bar.

            My team and I had just finished a lengthy, seven-week criminal trial and surrounded by these victorious co-workers-I sipped my first whiskey in a very long time. The adrenaline and stress from such a high-profile case was starting slowly to recede.

            The room was congested with men and women enjoying happy hour, multiple conversations were concurrently flying around me. But I saw her walk in. ‘Christ on a bike…’ I thought to myself.  I heard one of my law partners behind me grunt,

            “There is a fine, fine-looking woman,”

Internally, I completely agreed. Tall, graceful, and not from around here. Pure “Yankee girl” vibes. Dark hair, dark eyed, long legged and a smile that lit up the room. My twenty-year marriage had been officially over for almost a year and a half, and despite the amount of lovely women who worked around me and beside me, my manhood had been devoured by my job. It dawned on me that in that moment I had been numb and existed that way for far too long.

            “Who is that?” I asked my co-counsel.

            Jimmy Lee shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I don’t rightly know, but that there is a dangerous kitty kat, Son. You rope that mare and in days y’all will be selling your prize possessions and move yo’self to a Florida key to start rescuing sea life,”

            I laughed out loud at the ridiculous generalization of what was most definitely true on several levels. She was getting closer, there were a few open stools at the bar near us, her and her friend were heading in our direction. I waved them over, clearing the space for them to be included into our circle.

            “Ma’am,” I locked eyes with her, gesturing to the open seats.

            She smiled up at me and in a husky, delicious voice tinged with a northeastern accent she replied,

             “Ahh a true southern gentleman, I heard rumors about your existence.”  

            She was beautiful and so blatantly sexy without trying. She smoldered, all her heat running close to the surface. She smelled good and was dressed in a short black skirt which accentuated a fine round ass. Her blouse was pink and snug, and the low collar showcased the promise of a fantastic set of tits. My mouth was dry and suddenly I felt like an awkward teenager instead of a fifty something man with his greatest female conquests far and away from him.

            “Southern Gentlemen,” I snickered, “No not a rumor Ma’am, we do exist.” I held out my hand to shake hers, “Clayton Hoover, It’s a pleasure, Ma’am,”

            “Clayton Hoover,” she repeated quietly, her voice swept like a soft caress across my groin, she held her hand out to shake mine, “It’s a privilege to meet you, I heard all about your verdict today, very nicely done. My name is Aubrey, Aubrey Teller.”

            I held her hand too long, staring down into her eyes. I found my voice long enough to ask if I could buy her and her friend a drink.

            “As you can imagine, myself and the rest of this circus beside me are celebrating and we’d be much obliged if y’all joined the party.” The collective group welcomed the two of them graciously by raising their glasses and raisin’ a bit of cane as well. They were still whooping and hollering as they shouted toasts out to each other.

            She smiled again, and all I could think of was how I’d like to see her smile constantly. Her smile. It was framed by a mouth so irresistible I was madly imagining ways I could convince her to kiss me.

            My brain was fried. Months and months of being embedded in a long tedious investigation, dozens of motions filed, multiple experts and mounds of evidence which had finally concluded with a victorious conviction. I was mere hours since the sentencing and my body was hitting a wall and all I wanted at that moment was to pin her up against it with my mouth covering hers. I cannot imagine the facial expressions these thoughts were displaying, but she gazed back at me brazenly. So, did she feel it too?

The bartender placed her drink and the one ordered by her friend in front of them.

            “You have me at a disadvantage, Miss Aubrey. You apparently know who I am and what I do, but you are some kind of angelic apparition and obviously not from around here.” I felt myself flush a bit, embarrassment, lust and slight buzz from the adrenaline and alcohol.

            She laughed, it was low and dirty.

            “…angelic apparition?” she teased. “Well that’s a very nice thing to say Mr. Hoover, but angelic is not a description I’d own up to.” She took her drink and held it up to me for a toast.      “Here’s to a spectacular victory today, you were scintillating to watch in that court room, and justice has been served, quite nicely.” I clinked my glass with hers and took a long sip of whiskey.

            Jimmy Lee leaned in behind me to whisper in my ear,

            “Clay, take yo’ time now or y’all will be saving dolphins from fishing nets before hunting season starts.”

            He brought me back to earth slightly. I’m not a young guy or a player in any way. I’m gray haired, with a tight haircut and a gray goatee. My body has long past the idea of being beach ready, but I had just lost over ten pounds from the stress of the trial. I’m not a bad looking guy, enough women have flirted or tried to hit on me. I still wore some of the worship from my days as a champion quarterback at Clemson University.

            Something about this woman was igniting all my dormant testosterone. Not sure of her age but she could pass for early forties, and she was giving all the young blondes in the bar pause to check on their lip gloss from the camera app on their phones.  

            “Jimmy Lee Cobb, Ma’am” my partner reached out to introduce himself to her.

            “Of course you are,” she smiled gently. “Very nice to meet you Mr. Cobb, I’m Aubrey Teller and this is my good friend and personal assistant, Jenna Mathers.” Her friend Jenna shook his hand and mine before finishing her cocktail. I glanced at Jenna quick enough to notice her long red hair and slight build. But it was Aubrey who had me charmed.

            “I’m heading up to the room, Bree. I have to catch an early flight in the morning. You good?” she asked. Jenna was slinging her handbag and what appeared to be a weathered lap top case over her shoulder.

            Aubrey nodded and hugged her friend.

            “Have a safe trip, I’ll call you when I’m back on Monday.”

            She turned to face me again, “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me for a little longer.  I need to unwind a bit more.”

            I think I smiled at her, I know I leaned closer. A few more inches and I could have kissed her. She didn’t back off.  

            “That’s more good news for me today, Ma’am.” I signaled to the bartender for a refill.

            I don’t remember when everyone started filing out of the bar. My staff were making plans to go somewhere else for a late dinner and they slapped me affectionately on the shoulder and back as they filed out. I was laser focused on her, finding out who she was and still wearing my “cross examination” hat I gradually questioned her life and career. She was engaging, funny and smart and I was quickly becoming bewitched.

            It was the little things; she drew an olive off the skewer from her cocktail into her mouth and gently sucked the vodka from it before biting down on it. The way she looked intensely into my eyes when I talked about the case. She would ask me questions with first inquiring if it was permissible for me to answer them, she’d put her hand on my wrist when she’d beg the intrusion. We sat close, though the crowd around us had dissipated. Occasionally our knees would touch under the bar. I could feel the electricity in her body arc over to mine.

            In all my years, I don’t recall having a one-night stand after the age of twenty. Those days in high school and early college of big parties after the homecoming games are shaded with drunken hookups, quick feels, and sloppy blow jobs in the back of my pick-up truck.  Sometime after that I acted a perfect gentlemen. Courting women, proper dates and slowly coaxing them around the bases. I met my wife right after I graduated law school and never saw another woman after that.

I didn’t know when I decided, but I was sure I was not leaving this hotel, this night, without taking this woman to bed and making up for all my lost opportunities.

            She asked me something and I missed it by running my internal dialogue.

            “I’m begging your pardon Miss Aubrey, I missed your last question,” I smiled humbly.

            “You seem very distracted, Mr. Hoover.”

            “Please call me Clay, everyone does.” I interrupted her.

            She nodded, “Of course, but I insist you call me Aubrey or Bree, everyone does.” She was toying with the long strand of pearls around her neck. Suddenly flashed the fantasy of her completely naked riding atop me with those pearls dangling in my face. I felt the blood rush to my cock and start to engorge it.

            “Clay?” she interrupted my reverie again.

            “I’m so sorry Miss–I mean Aubrey. I am a little distracted.”

            She sat back and sighed.

            “Well, I won’t keep you anymore. You’ve had a very long trip here and the past two months must have been excruciating. I’m sure you’d rather be with your team continuing to celebrate and blow off some steam.”

            She was standing now and getting her things together. I began to panic. She couldn’t leave, I was trying to summon some kind of bravado to talk my way up to her room. She was still talking,

            “….it was so very nice to meet you and thank you for indulging my inner crime nerd with information about the case…”

            “Miss Aubrey, I beg your indulgence, let me escort you to your door, I’d rather you didn’t’ walk to it alone, it’s late.” I attempted. I handed my credit card to the bartender and settled the bill.

            I stood beside her, signing my name on the check. She was silent, looking me over trying to gauge my intention.

            “You’re really a true Southern gentleman aren’t you?” she whispered with amazement.

            I slipped my wallet back into my rear pocket and shook my head with defeat.

            “Ma’am I’d agree with you but for all the ideas currently racing through my head—they are nowhere close to the way a gentleman should be thinking about a lady.”

            She smiled, slow and lazy like a Cheshire cat, I felt the desire coming off her in pulsing waves.

            “Well Mr. Hoover, that’s oddly comforting. I must admit there is nothing about you that inspires me to be a lady.”