Reasonable Doubt

Cross Examination (n.):
The interrogation of a witness called by one’s opponent.
Aubrey
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Mr. Hamilton kissed me the other day, the way he pulled me against his chest and f*cked my lips with his mouth.
Thoughts of him kissing me had been invading my mind all day, and even now, when I was setting down his latest cup of coffee, I was tempted to walk behind his desk and dare him to kiss me again. Ever since I’d become his intern, he’d been quite mean to me—reckless, but I thought it was a training technique, a way to see if I’d quit under pressure.
Until he kissed me that day.
There was something intangible in his kiss; unspoken words, a repressed desire. It made me think that the glances he often tossed my way, those looks of scorn that were laced with wanting, meant a little more.
I placed a plastic stirrer into his cup and cleared my throat. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Hamilton?”
No answer.
I stood my ground and waited for him to look up at me; I wanted to see his face.
The suit he was wearing today—a dark grey three piece with a silver silk tie, made him look even more devastatingly beautiful than he normally did.
“Is there a problem, Miss Everhart?” He clenched his fists above the desk, trying his best to act like my presence wasn’t bothering him. But it was, I could tell.
I knew he would look up at any moment, so I stepped back, making sure the light blue dress I wore specifically for him would be in full view, but he kept his gaze lowered.
“No, sir.”
“Then get out of my office. I’ll need your Brownstein report with my next cup of coffee. Four o’ clock.”
“You just gave me that report yesterday. You said I could take all the time I needed.”
“You must’ve misheard me. You can take all the time you need today. Things change instantly around here, and that’s the exact reason why some of us never leave early. Four o’ clock.”
I stood there completely speechless. There was no way I’d be able to read and summarize a three hundred paged report by the end of the day.
“Did you lose some of your hearing between today and yesterday?” He finally looked up, his perfect face expressionless. “I need complete silence when I work and I can’t focus with your heavy breathing.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Get out, finish the report, and bring it back to me with my coffee. If you don’t, you’re fired.”
I quickly decided that he was bipolar, and that our seemingly connected kiss was just a mistake. I turned around and left his office, rushing straight to the break room.
There was no way I was going to get that Brownstein report done by the end of the day.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages—realizing that Thoreau hadn’t responded to my morning texts. Sighing, I decided to call him. I needed someone to tell me that my life wouldn’t end today when I was fired.
It rang once.
It rang twice.
It went to voicemail.
He hit ignore?!
I sent him a text. “What the hell is wrong with you lately? Is your lack of sex forcing you to act like a jerk toward me? Is the withdrawal THAT BAD? Talk to me.”
I waited for a response, but none came, so I slumped onto the couch. There was no point in even attempting to finish that report. I was just going to sit here, relax, and when it was five o’ clock I was going to collect all of my things and leave.
I could find another internship in two weeks, or worst case, ask the department chair if I could shadow my mother and father around their stuffy firm for credit.
Ugh...God...
I shut my eyes and lay back against the cushion, wishing I could fall asleep.
“Aubrey?” Someone shook my shoulder just as I was drifting away.
“Yes?” I opened my eyes. It was Jessica.
“I’ve been looking for you forever. Mr. Hamilton wants to speak with you.”
I raised my eyebrow. “More coffee?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “He’s been a bit off lately. Just come on, you don’t want to make him angry.” She held the door open and I stood up, making my way past her.
I debated whether I should even go to his office. Then again, seeing the look on his face as I said, “F*ck you. I quit.” was too good of an experience to pass up. I forced a smile and knocked on his door.
“Come in.” His voice was stern.
I slipped inside, expecting to see him holding an empty coffee cup, but he was sitting at his desk–glaring at me.
“Have a seat,” he said.
I sat in front of his desk, waiting for him to scold me about something, to unleash more of his seemingly bipolar tendencies, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at me.
I hated the effect he was having on my body right now, and as much as I wanted to ask him what the hell he wanted, I couldn’t get my mouth to say a thing.
Without addressing me, he suddenly stood up and walked around his desk, sitting on the edge of it, letting his knees touch mine.
“Lawyers are supposed to be people with integrity, are they not?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Do you think you have integrity, Miss Everhart?” He emphasized every syllable of my name.
“Yes.”
“Hmmm.” He leaned forward. “So, would you ever willingly withhold the truth from someone you supposedly cared about?”
“It depends...” My breath hitched in my throat; my heart was racing a mile a minute.
“It depends?” He sat back a bit. “It depends on what?”
“If the truth would damage anything or hurt someone unnecessarily, then I believe I have a right to withhold it.”
“But what if someone blatantly asked you for the truth, several times? What if he said, I want you to tell me the truth no matter how much it hurts, or how angry it may make me?”
Where is he going with this? “Are you referring to a potential witness changing his testimony on the stand, Mr. Hamilton?”
“No...” He trailed his fingers across my collarbone, setting my nerves on fire. “This is a personal inquiry. I’m just in need of an outside opinion. Answer the question.”
“Well, I think—” I sucked in a breath as he placed his hand on my thigh and strummed his fingers against my skirt. “I think certain lies have to be told, and certain truths have to be withheld. The ultimate conviction is up to those who can discern which is which.”
“So, you believe in reasonable doubt?”
“In certain cases, yes...”
“What about in our case?” His hand was slowly slipping underneath my skirt, traveling further and further up my thigh.
“Our case?”
“Yes,” he said. “I believe you and I are currently in an unfortunate web of deceit.”
“No...” I said, breathless and confused. “We’re not in a web of deceit...”
“We definitely are, Alyssa—" He pulled me forward by the strand of pearls around my neck. "It’s the case of a woman who befriended me online, but she turned out to be someone completely different than who she told me she was. So, in this case—our case, how do you feel about reasonable doubt?”
Gasping, I could feel all the color draining from my face. My heart wasn’t racing anymore; it was flailing around wildly—ready to jump out of my chest, and my eyes were as wide as they could go.
“You were very good at covering your tracks for such a long time, so I’ll give you that,” he said. “But I thought we thoroughly discussed how I felt about liars. Did we not?”
I murmured as he tightened his grip on my pearls, as he pulled me so close that we were lip to lip.
"Do you plan on answering me, Aubrey? Are you tired of this f*cking charade?"
“I never thought that...” I was stuttering, trying to look away from him, but his grip prevented me from moving. "I am so sorry..."
He didn't say anything further. He stared into my eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. Then he lowered his voice, and leaned back. "Once someone lies to me they're dead to me forever. Do you remember me saying that?"
"Yes..."
"So, you’ve always been willing to lose our friendship over lies?"
"I never wanted to meet you in person...”
“I can see that.” He hissed.
“If I had known who you really were...” I was breaking down in front of him. This was too much for one day. “I would’ve never—”
“Save it.” He cut me off. “I’ve heard enough about your thoughts on lying. Seeing as though we don’t share the same views, you’re not worthy of being my intern. You’ll be serving as my secretary’s assistant until further notice.”
“You’re demoting me?”
“It’s not a demotion. It’s a way to keep you out of my sight.”
My heart dropped.
“Our online relationship—whatever the hell that was anyway,” he said, “is over. I don’t want to hear from you outside of these walls again.”
“Thoreau...”
“It’s Mr. Hamilton, Miss Everhart.” He glared at me. “Mr. f*cking Hamilton.”
“You have to believe that I’m sorry...I never thought that this would happen.”
“Take however much time you need on the Brownstein account.” He disregarded my apology and released his hold on my necklace. “You have until the end of next week. And from now on, you can just set my coffee on my bookcase. I don’t need you coming anywhere near my desk.”
“Andrew—”
“We are definitely not on a first name basis. Do not ever call me that.”
“Just let me explain...”
“There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me and you no longer exist. Get out. Now.”
I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I was serious about you being my only friend...Friends are supposed to give each other a chance to make things right. Just let me tell you why I had to lie to you...”
“I don’t deal with liars. Ever. And seeing that that’s exactly what you are, I don’t care why you felt the need to deceive me. Get out of my office, stay out of my sight as much as possible, and do your damn job.”
I stood up and looked into his eyes, pleading for him to simply hear me out, to let me explain, but he turned away from me. Then he picked up his phone.
“Jessica?” he said. “Could you help Miss Everhart find her way out of my office? And could you please have the janitor check my floors for f*cking superglue?”
***
I stood underneath the scalding hot streams of my shower, crying. Right after I’d left Andrew’s office, I’d told HR that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave for the rest of the day.
I’d driven straight for the dance hall—locking myself into a private room and dancing until I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I knew I must’ve looked crazy to my classmates, sobbing in between every twirl, but I didn’t care; I needed to clear my mind of all thoughts of Andrew, Thoreau, and Alyssa.
As the water continued to lash against my skin, I shut my eyes and murmured, “How long has he known?” I thought about the past couple weeks, how “Thoreau” had been less talkative than normal, how he’d ignored me, and then it hit me.
My interview...
I still remembered it because seeing Andrew in person made me realize that no picture could ever accurately capture how sexy he really looked, and I’d blushed the second his eyes met mine. He didn’t seem to act any differently throughout the questioning, but then I remembered that random phone call...
I wasn’t sure why I was just remembering it now, but while Mr. Bach and Mr. Greenwood had simply laughed that intrusive phone call away, Andrew had stared at me. As if he was in complete and utter shock. And at the end of the interview, when I’d reached for his hand, his gaze wasn’t intrigued anymore, it was heated.
Wiping away my tears, I turned off the water and stepped out. I wrapped myself in a towel and did what I always did when I felt sad: ordered a sandwich and made myself a couple of stiff martinis.
Just as I was downing the first one, there was a knock on my door. I noticed the pink Barbie keys on the counter—courtesy of my forgetful and “never here” roommate and knew it was her.
She always leaves something...
“Would it kill you to double check for these before you—” I stopped when I opened the door.
It was Andrew, and the look on his face was one of pure anger. He wasn’t dressed in a suit anymore, just a simple, thin white T-shirt that slightly clung to his chiseled abs and a pair of faded blue jeans.
I tried to slam the door in his face, but he held it open and forced himself inside my apartment. I started to step backwards and he matched me step for step, backing me against my living room wall.
“We need to talk.” His voice was flat, emotionless.
“No, we don’t. You said plenty earlier.” I looked down at the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll be resigning in the morning. Please leave.”
He tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “You’re not quitting.”
“Watch me.” I swallowed. “I want you to leave...”
“I would believe that, but you say things you don’t mean all the time.”
The tension between us was damn near palpable, and I could feel my blood heating every second he stood there staring at me. I tried to move away, but he gripped my hips.
“You told me you were a lawyer, Aubrey...” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “You told me you were twenty seven years old.”
“I never said I was twenty seven. You assumed.”
“It was on your f*cking profile!” He pushed my back against the wall. “You never thought to correct me whenever I said I was only five years older than you...I’m ten years older than you.”
“I didn’t think I would ever meet you in person,” I barely managed to say as he pressed his chest against mine.
“That excuses your lies?”
“I said I was sorry, and it was clearly a huge mistake to ever befriend you. You didn’t even give me a chance to completely explain.”
“Do you not understand how f*cked up this situation is?”
“No...” I murmured as our lips touched.
“I’ve been looking forward to f*cking the woman who teased me every night for nearly six months,” he whispered, sliding his fingers underneath my towel. “I wanted her to ride me.” He trailed his hand up my thigh and rubbed his thumb against my *. “On my cock and my mouth. And I wanted to teach her how to taste me...Don’t you think this woman f*cked all of that up?”
I shook my head in response; I couldn’t handle the way he was looking at me.
“You said you weren’t my type when I asked what you looked like.” He pulled away from my mouth, but he kept his thumb against my *. “But you clearly are. Why did you lie about something as simple as that?””
“You didn’t tell me what you looked like, so—”
“Stop deflecting.” He hissed, and took a step back. “Tell me the reasoning. I’ve already figured out your reasoning for the other bullshit lies. By the way, no self-respecting lawyer would ever let another lawyer do their work for them.”
“Only a self-absorbed a*shole who wants to seem deeper than he really is would call himself Thoreau.”
“Good to finally see the version of you that I remember.” He took another step back and crossed his arms. “Answer my question.”
“F*ck you.” I scoffed. “I told you I was sorry, begged you to listen to me, and now when you feel like talking, you think you can barge into my apartment and make me?”
“I haven’t made you do anything.” He smirked. “Yet.”
Silence.
He leaned against the wall, waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t get a word out.
Look away from him...Look away from him...
As if he knew the power his gaze was having on me, he grinned and picked up one of my makeshift martinis.
Lifting one of the cherries from the liquor, he placed it against his lips. “Do you plan on standing there all night and looking at me, or are you going to answer my question?”
“No,” I said, finally looking away from him. “After the way you treated me in your office today, I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. You can stand there all night for all I care.” I walked towards my room. “There’s even a sandwich delivery coming if you decide to—”
My breath caught in my throat as he grabbed me from behind and pulled me against his chest. He quickly spun me around so we were face to face, and then he ripped my towel from around my body, letting it fall to the floor.
The cherry he’d picked up was in his mouth, and he was pressing it on my lips—silently commanding me to open up and eat it.
I stuck out my tongue to take it, but before sliding it to me, he whispered, “Don’t chew...I want to see how capable you are of swallowing.”
My gasping did all the swallowing for me.
“Good girl,” he said, loosening his grip around my waist. “Now, step back and hold the wall.”
“What?”
He pushed me against the wall before I could take another breath, grabbing my hands and lifting them above my head. “Hold the wall...”
I nodded, pressing my hands against the cool surface.
With a ‘don’t-f*ck-with-me’ look on his face, he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, and spoke softly, “I’ll make you regret it if you let go.”
“Yes...”
“That wasn’t a question.” The look on his face softened, and I was sure he could hear the loud beating in my chest.
I shut my eyes as he ran his hands up and down my sides.
I could feel his cock hardening through his pants as he lowered his kisses to my breasts and swirled his tongue around my nipples.
His mouth trailed down my stomach, and his hands caressed every inch of me as he made his way down.
“Thoreau...” I gasped as his tongue skimmed the inside of my thighs.
“My name is Andrew.” He got down on his knees. “We’re done playing that game.” He trapped my legs with his hands and pressed his mouth against my p-ssy. Licking me gently, he massaged my * with his thumb.
I tried not to moan too loudly, tried to keep it all in, but each time he swirled his tongue, my mouth let another sound escape.
“You’re so f*cking wet...” He groaned. “So f*cking wet...” He slipped two thick fingers inside of me, pushing them as far as they could go.
My eyes fluttered open as he added a third finger, as he whispered, “So tight...”
“Ahhh...Andrew...” I gave up trying to be quiet.
“Yes?” He slowly pulled his fingers out of me and looked up, waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t focus when he looked at me liked that.
With no lead-in kisses whatsoever, he buried his head in my p-ssy and f*cking devoured me.
“Ohhh...” I cried out in indescribable pleasure. “Ohhh godddd, Andrewww....Waitttt...Slow down...”
He ignored me, plunging his tongue deeper and deeper.
I couldn’t help but let go of the wall. I dropped my hands to his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to keep my balance. The harder I pulled his hair, the more his tongue lashed against me with no mercy.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, but Andrew didn’t bother stopping. Instead, he lifted my right leg up and draped it over his shoulder. He grasped my thigh so I couldn’t move, and then he slid his tongue into me a little deeper—licking every corner of my walls.
On the verge of coming, I grabbed his shoulders as my p-ssy throbbed against his mouth. But he stopped abruptly.
He moved my leg and kissed his way back up my body, stopping when he reached my breasts. He palmed them with one hand and roughly twisted my nipples.
“I told you not to let go of that wall,” he said, looking down at me as he unzipped his pants.
I stared back into his eyes, nearly breathless.
“I did tell you that, didn’t I?” He clasped my hand and pressed it against his chest, slowly moving it lower and lower.
When my hand finally reached his dick, I looked down in utter shock. He was huge, massively thick, and my jaw was hanging wide open.
“You don’t like it?” He tilted my chin up and smirked.
I was utterly speechless, but I couldn’t deny how horny I felt right now. Remembering what he’d said on the phone, I lowered my head to taste him, but he stopped me.
“Not tonight.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket, and kept his eyes on me as he put it on.
Leading me to the couch, he sat down and pulled me into his lap.
I leaned forward to kiss his lips, but he quickly repositioned me so I was facing away from him. Then he teased me with the head of his cock—rubbing it against my slit. Again and again.
“Remember how you said you wanted to ride me until I came inside of you?” he whispered into my ear. “How you wanted to grind on me until I begged you to stop?”
“Yes...” I moaned.
He pushed me down by my shoulders and sank me onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt inch by inch. The further I slipped onto him, the more he groaned. The more he said my name.
When he was completely inside of me, he held me still and pressed his lips against the back of my neck, letting me adjust to his length.
The feel of him was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was intense, powerful, addictive.
“Ride me, Aubrey...” He pushed me forward. “F*cking ride me...”
I took a deep breath and rocked against him, slowly stretching my insides further and further. I could barely maintain a rhythm; the fullness of him was almost too much, and he was rubbing my * with his thumb—driving me insane.
“You feel so f*cking good right now...” He yanked me back by my hair. “Don’t f*cking stop.”
I held onto his legs to steady myself, slightly lifting my body up and down. I tried to finally establish a tempo, to finally take control.
“Andrewww...” I couldn’t handle his cock anymore. “I’m...I’m about to cum...”
“No.” He gripped my hips harder than ever. “Not yet.”
He suddenly stood up, with me still impaled on his cock, and bent me over. “Grab that table and don’t let go.”
My fingers clutched the edge of the coffee table and he pounded into me again and again, smacking my ass each time I cried out.
“I told you I was going to own your p-ssy,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t cum until I tell you to f*cking cum...” His cock was throbbing inside of me, and my muscles were clenching with his every stroke.
“F*ck....F*ckkkk!” My legs were starting to give out as an intense pressure built inside of me, as he f*cked me relentlessly. “Andrewwwww...”
“Don’t let go.” He warned, but I couldn’t help it.
My orgasm took ahold of me in a rush and I collapsed, falling forward. Before I could land face first onto the coffee table, he pulled me back and continued pounding into me until he reached his own release.
I shut my eyes and leaned back against him, panting heavily as we both tried to catch our breath. Several minutes later, Andrew gently lifted my hips and pulled out of me.
He stood up, and I watched him as he walked into the kitchen and threw the condom away. He picked my fallen towel up from the floor and walked back over to me.
I made no move to get up, but I re-wrapped the towel around myself.
“Is there anything you didn’t lie to me about?” His voice was a whisper.
“Yes...”
“And what would that be?”
“I did miss you...”
He raised his eyebrow, keeping the rest of his face stoic. Expressionless. He started to buckle his pants, not taking his eyes off mine.
I was hoping that he would say something, anything, but he didn’t.
He smoothed his shirt with his hands and walked to the door. All of a sudden, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Then he walked over to me and lightly kissed my lips—brushing his thumb against my cheek.
I wanted to speak, to ask what he was thinking, but he pulled away and left.
This time he was gone.