The boy pulled his bloated penis from Adele’s lipsticked lips just as he orgasmed. The eruption of scalding semen spattered across her pretty face, splashing in her eyes, then across her cheeks and ran down her chin. The boy groaned with pleasure and then he laughed.

“Good shot Pete!” the boy holding Adele down on her knees gloated.

“She loves it! Look she’s lapping at it with her tongue,” Brian Stetford laughed.

Adele didn’t like it, she hated it but she was not going to let these bullies think otherwise. She was going to bear whatever they did to her without them ever knowing how degraded, abused and belittled she felt. She was going to give them whatever they wanted. Her revenge would come later. She didn’t know how or when but it would come.

“Was that good my little tranny whore? Did you like sucking my cock?” Peter Grady asked her sarcastically.

Adele nodded but couldn’t meet his gaze.

She was dressed in a leather miniskirt, white satin blouse, sheer taupe pantyhose, matching black satin and lace bra and panties, and cheap black high heels. Her makeup was heavy but expertly applied; she wore a platinum-blonde shoulder-length wig and cheap costume jewellery.

At least that was how she had been dressed when the four boys burst into her dormitory room.

Her blouse was now ripped open, her bra pulled askew, her skirt hiked up and her panties pulled down around her ankles. Fortuitously the boys had left her wig in place to keep the illusion that she was a pretty young woman; but her makeup was ruined and her pantyhose-clad buttocks were soaked with semen. The boys might have called her a tranny, a fag, a sissy whore but they had all pawed at her, wanting to kiss her, she had fellated Danny Benstead who had ejaculated in her mouth and now Peter Grady had just come on her face. Brian Stetford had ejaculated over her buttocks.

Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady, Mitchell Brooks were eighteen-year-old students in their first semester at college, as was Adrian Edwards. The difference was that Danny, Brian, Peter and Mitchell were jocks and Adrian was a small-framed, effeminate intellectual.

Adrian had made the mistake of using the toilet cubicle next to Mitchell Brooks who had noticed the pretty pink satin panties around Adrian’s ankles when he looked under the divide. Of course Mitchell couldn’t help but tell his three best buddies who began to look closely at Adrian; they were always on the prowl for someone to haze or bully.

They noticed skerricks of black eyeliner and mascara around his eyes and minute crescents of nailpolish in the cuticles of his fingernails where he had obviously not removed his makeup properly. The four bullies were not stupid; they soon surmised that Adrian Edwards was a crossdresser.

Their plan had been to invade Adrian's dorm room, kidnap him, take him into the centre of the city and release him with nothing but the clothes he was wearing. He would have to suffer the indignity of finding his way home dressed enfemme. Of course they would take pictures of him during his ordeal and post them online.

But when they burst into Adrian's room and found the gorgeous, ultra-feminine, sexually attractive young woman named Adele sitting on the bed working with her laptop perched on her knees their plans had changed.

One knowing glance amongst themselves was all it took.

Adele had been dreading the day she would be caught like this. She knew that eventually she would be exposed but she could not suppress the urge to present herself as a woman despite her devotedly religious and conservative parents anger and disappointment, the Christian conversion therapy, and even the beatings that her father gave her whenever he found Adrian dressed as Adele.

Adele saw the glance between the boys and guessed what would happen next. She was not naïve, in fact although she had never had sex with a man she had watched thousands of hours of internet porn and was in fact looking forward to her first sexual experience as Adele. She had frequently fantasised about it and woken up many a morning with her panties soaked in semen induced by her torrid dreams.

But she did not want it to be this way; not with these four overbearing thugs.

But she was a victim of circumstance. She couldn’t call for help, she would die of embarrassment being caught dressed enfemme and the jocks would claim they were only hazing her. She couldn’t fight them either. She would capitulate. She was not going to throw them an enthusiastic romp, far from it, but she was going to be tacitly compliant.

Adele shuddered when Brian Stetford clicked over the lock on her door and dimmed the lights, leaving on the desklamp. The boys wanted to see exactly what they were doing but they did not want to know it was Adrian Edwards under the makeup and inside those clothes.

Mitchell Brooks gently took the laptop from her knees and placed it on the bedside table, his hand lingered on her leg, his fingers stroking her sheer nylons. Adele could see that he was already erect in his jeans.

Danny and Peter were unbuckling their pants and Adele shivered.

“Come,” Mitchell Brooks lifted Adele to her feet, almost tenderly.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, pressing himself to her, slipping the tip of tongue into her mouth. Adele’s involuntary impulse was to put her arms around him.

She was confused. She should be trying to fight him off, she should be outraged and she was, but she felt so feminine in his arms. The feel of his muscular body, the graze of his stubble, his manly musk juxtaposed to her soft feminine body, her smooth skin, the scent of her perfume; it was just like she had dreamed it would be to be with a man. His full lips pressed on hers; she could taste her lipstick on his lips as he kissed her passionately. She could feel the rise in his groin.

Her trepidation and revulsion were still there; she just supressed her abhorrence and shame. It was a defence mechanism. The Brits had a saying for what she was experiencing: ‘lie back and think of England’. It is an absurd trope but fitted Adele’s frame of mind in the current situation.

“Don’t hog the bitch,” Danny Benstead wrested Adele from Mitchell’s embrace.

Danny was not as tender as Mitchell and she writhed in his arms as he shoved his tongue into her mouth and forced her hand down to his groin.

“Stop fighting! You know what to do,” he forced her to wrap her fingers around his erect penis.

It was the first time Adele had ever had felt anyone’s penis in her hand other than her own. It was thick and veiny and she instinctively began to stroke it.

“Mmm, that’s it. You're doing good. You're being a good little girl, a good little slut,” Danny groaned.

“So what do we call you besides, tranny, whore, sissy?” Peter sniggered.

“Adele,” she whispered and regretted it immediately.

Adele was her chosen name. When and if she ever transitioned, that was going to be her name… forever. And now she had just told these four blockheaded jocks.

“Well Adele you are one pretty whore, now put your other hand to good use,” Peter pressed in and guided her free hand to his rampant penis.

Adele masturbated the two boys while they look turns kissing her; they were rougher than Mitchell had been, more insistent and their kisses held no tenderness, only want and need. They slobbered at her mouth, kissing her and gasping as she wanked them, Adele used their pre-ejaculate to lubricate their shafts. She gently raked her painted fingernails along the turgid flesh and then fluttered her soft fingertips under their glans listening to both boys sigh as she illicited globules of glistening precum which she then smeared along their cocks as she stroked them, quickening the pace.

Brian Stetford moved in behind Adele, sandwiching her between him and the other two boys. He put his arms around her and unbuttoned her blouse despite her protests, which were mostly muffled by Peter and Danny’s kisses. He tugged at her bra and found her meagre breasts but tweaked her nipples anyway.

“She’s got no tits,” Brian snickered.

Adele couldn’t suppress the tingling she felt when Brian stroked her nipples, even though the other boys were kissing her harshly, fighting for her mouth, the kisses were still exhilarating and she was returning the kisses with fervour. When she felt Brain hike up her skirt and put his cock between her thighs and begin to hump her silken-sheathed thighs she could not deny that stroking two hard cocks whilst being dry-humped and being passionately kissed was thrilling and provocative.

Adele was hoping that the boys would be satisfied with a handjob, maybe a dry-hump, and leave her alone.

But Peter and Danny were onto her. They nodded at Brian Stetford who grinned back at them, knowing what they wanted.

Brian pushed down on Adele’s shoulders. At first she was confused but then she realised what he was doing. She was no match for his strength and she was forced to her knees.

Danny went first.

“Don’t you bite me you tranny whore!” Danny waggled his penis in front of her face.

The thing looked brutish; gnarly, with pulsing blue veins.

Adele forced herself not to cry; instead she opened her mouth and let Danny slide his cock into her mouth. When she tried to put her hand on the shaft he slapped it away. Adele closed her eyes and her mouth and began to suck on the proffered appendage.

“Open your eyes and look up at me slut!” Danny demanded and Adele complied.

Her pretty face framed by her blonde hair looking up at Danny with those heavily mascaraed deep-blue eyes probably saved her from an extended juncture as a novice fellatrix.

“God she’s fucking gorgeous,” Danny sighed feeling his orgasm approach as Adele clumsily sucked on his penis.

Danny put a hand on both sides of Adele’s head and fucked her mouth, moaning and uttering obscenities as his climax built. She clamped her lips around his shaft and slavered at his cock as she struggled to breathe. She was almost grateful when he ejaculated; she had no choice but swallow what he spewed into her mouth. Danny’s knees buckled and he fell away from her and Adele was grateful that she could breathe freely again.

Her respite didn’t last long. The other three boys were extremely aroused watching the pretty young transvestite fellate their friend and were anxious to take their turns.

Peter Grady took Danny Benstead’s place, waggling his long thin cock in front of her face.

Adele had suffered the ultimate indignity and concluded that giving the remaining boys a quick blowjob would end her ordeal quickly and with undue pain.

She obediently opened her mouth and began to use her tongue to full effect when Peter slid his cock between her lips. She worked her tongue under his glans on his fraenulum knowing that it was the most sensitive spot on the penis and was rewarded when Peter sighed.

She was alarmed when Brian Stetford began pushing on her shoulders. At first she thought that he was encouraging her to suck Peter’s cock harder but then she felt his hands wrap around her waist and pull her back so that she had to put her hands on the floor to steady herself. She was now on her hands and knees with her buttocks raised up and exposed. Peter had dropped down with her so that she could continue to suck his cock while Brian did whatever he was going to do behind her.

Adele was horrified. She felt so vulnerable being on her hands and knees with her buttocks raised invitingly. She almost cried with relief when Brian pressed her thighs together and pressed his cock between them.

He just wanted to continue to dry-hump her legs; she could cope with that. She concentrated on using her mouth on Peter’s cock hoping to invoke his orgasm as quickly as possible but Peter kept making her slow down and at one stage withdrew completely and made Adel suck and lick his scrotum.

She could hear Brian grunting behind her as his cock rubbed on her thighs; she thought it incongruous that in any other circumstances it would feel quite pleasurable.

The small dorm was filled with gasping, grunting and moaning, and ashamedly, some of the lustful sounds came from Adele herself. Peter’s cock was easier for her to manage, being thinner than Danny’s. She thought that she was reasonably competent now and had a novice’s proficiency at cocksucking. She could feel that Danny was enjoying the way she worked his cock in her mouth, she even lifted a hand and stroked his scrotal sac, urging him to climax.

But it was Brian who came first, humping her thighs harder and faster, feeling her gossamer-glad legs tightening on his cock.

“Oh fuck yes!” Brian pulled his cock from between her thighs.

He sprayed scalding ropes of sperm over her buttocks. Adele wriggled her behind, encouraging him to come over her, glad that he had not attempted to penetrate her. She felt the warm viscous fluid spatter on her behind, soak into her pantyhose and dribble down her thighs.

The site of the pretty young woman wagging her ass as his friend sprayed her with his ejaculate and the look of lust in her comely blue eyes looking up at him, tipped him over the edge.

Adele lapped at the issue dousing her face. It was salty, musky and sweet simultaneously. She was very aware that despite her revulsion she was erect inside her pantyhose.

When Peter asked her if it was good and she reluctantly nodded, there was only one thought on her mind.

Three down; one to go.

“My turn,” Mitchell Brooks grinned down at her.

He was naked, having shed his clothes whilst watching his comrades take their pleasure with Adele.

Peter and Brian had retreated, leaving her on her hands and knees. She fully expected another assault on her mouth but Mitchell helped Adele to her feet.

He kissed her, ignoring that her face was covered in semen and her breath likely tasted of cock. He held her tight and pressed his massive organ against her legs. Adele was nearly exhausted but she responded; she would let Mitchell become so excited that that he would come against her.

She wrapped her arms around him and opened her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth. Mitchell was almost gentle, almost loving, just like he had been at first with Adele, and she was relieved. She took his cock in her hand and stroked it, her aim being to get him to ejaculate before he made her fellate him.

Mitchell turned Adele around like she was his dance partner, and keeping her in his embrace, he walked her backwards to her bed. That was ok she thought, she could sit on the edge of the bed and fellate him, then they would be finished with her.

But Mitchell had other plans.

Adele was not too concerned at first when Mitchell eased her onto the bed and lifted her legs and positioned her on her back with her head on the pillows. He climbed on top of her and kissed her again, his cock rubbing against hers through her pantyhose. She figured that, like Brian, he was going to hump against her and get off that way.

She was lulled into a false sense of security; the boys were nearly finished with her and would leave when Mitchell came.

Mitchell was gentle with her, kissing and caressing her and despite the fact that she felt very vulnerable lying under him, it was almost pleasant. His huge cock rubbed against her own not inconsiderable member and she felt herself leaking again. She wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him, wanting him to spend himself against her body and leave.

Adele froze.

She felt his hand wander down between her legs and he enmeshed his fingers in the gusset of her pantyhose. The noise he made when he ripped out the crotch filled the room. It was like time stood still.

“No,” Adele whispered.

“Yes,” Mitchell gasped into her mouth, kissing her hard, his penis probing at her unprotected buttocks.

“Gimme that,” he nodded to the moisturiser that Adele kept amongst her makeup, accessories and other clutter scattered on her desk.

Peter knew exactly what Mitchell wanted and handed him the tube of makeup removal cream.

“Please don’t. Not like this,” Adele pleaded.

Mitchell gazed down at the beautiful woman lying beneath him; her clothes in disarray, his cock nestled between her soft buttocks.

“Relax. Enjoy it,” he smiled down at her.

Mitchell squeezed a gobbet of the white, viscous cream onto his hand and lubricated himself. Then he took another globule of the moisturiser and applied it to Allele’s sphincter.

“Please don’t.” Adele implored him.

Her legs were now limp and she had let go of him. She was shaking with fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to be deflowered by the man of her dreams; a fictitious man who loved and revered her.

Mitchell thrust forward and entered Adele. She was no neophyte when it came to anal penetration; she owned a half-decent collection of dildos and vibrators.

She felt invaded. She felt defiled; but feeling a man’s hard flesh enter her for the first time also felt wonderful; exhilarating even. His glans pierced her sphincter slowly but unwaveringly until he was buried into her up to the hilt.

“Please stop now,” Adele whispered, but the lust in her eyes could not be disguised.

The girth of Mitchell’s cock stretched her sphincter, evoking little rings of pleasure but most of all his bulbous glans pressed on her prostate and educed a tingling delight over which she had no control.

Adele felt violated and used, but she could not control her conscience or her shame. It felt good. It felt amazing.

Mitchell slowly began to fuck her and Adele’s automated response was to wrap her legs around his body and hug him closely to her.

“Don’t do this,” she whimpered.

But it was too late.

Mitchell began to fuck her with long slow strokes and her body responded despite the fact that her conscience told her it was wrong.

Mitchell kissed and caressed her like she was his lover and her intuitive reaction was to enjoy the exquisite feelings that he wrenched from her body. She rose to meet his thrusts, and groaned with lust when his penis pressed on those special places.

Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford and Peter Grady stood watching, transfixed. It was like watching the intimacy between two lovers.

It didn’t take long. Her tight anus spasmed when Mitchell came and Adele felt the warm presence of his issue fill her. His hard belly pressed against her cock imprisoned in her pantyhose and the combined feelings radiating from her anus and her penis evoked her own orgasm.

She was ashamed but intoxicated by the intense gratification that surged through her body. She clung to Mitchell until they were both spent.

Mitchell Brooks shuddered and moaned as the last of his spend filled the beautiful girl beneath him.

But he quickly realised what he had done and extracted himself from Adele’s embrace.

Adele curled up into a ball, reviled by her responses to the evening’s events.

Mitchell began to dress.

But the other three boys had been incited; they wanted too fuck her too and they told him so.

“No! We’re done here. She’s had enough,” Mitchell’s authority appeared to be absolute.

He looked down at Adele and addressed her coldly.

“You keep your mouth shut and we will too. It’s your word against ours; if you say anything, I have pictures on my camera that clearly show you enjoying it,” he waved his Olympus Stylus 300 at her.

Adele had recalled the boys passing around a small digital camera during the ordeal.

“Just be grateful that it’s over. We won’t be back, and you won’t say anything and neither will we. Besides, who’s going to believe a little closet fairy?” he growled viciously.

“Come on guys; we’re gone,” Mitchell ordered.

The other three boys, men really at their age, were clearly disappointed but they understood the gravity of what had happened and they left the room in single file.

Mitchell paused at the door and looked back at Adele curled up on the bed.

“I know you liked it really,” he winked at her and closed the door.

Adele began to sob. She sobbed with shame and sorrow; but also because she knew that what Mitchell had said was true.

The pictures arrived in her email inbox that very night.

Adele under Mitchell, her legs and wrapped around him, kissing him. Adele masturbating two cocks; more disturbing because if you looked closely you could see that it was Adrian Edwards beneath the makeup and wig. Finally a shot of Adele licking at the semen on her cum-spattered face.

‘Silence is golden’ was the only text that accompanied the images.

But the boys were true to their word and said nothing to anyone; it was a standoff. If she accused them of anything, they had proof that she was implicit in the acts that they had photographed.

The events that occurred in Adele Edwards’ college dormitory room remained a secret to this very day

Fifteen Years Later

The click-clack of Adele’s high heels on the marble floor echoed down the corridor of Grantham, Walker and Tate, one of the most exclusive law practices in the state.

The immature male junior Associates and paralegals in the open-plan office began their regular chant whilst one of them warbled the bassline and another tapped out the beat on his desk.

‘With fingernails that shine like justice’
‘And a voice that is dark as tinted glass’
‘She’s fast, thorough, and sharp as a tack’
‘She’s touring the facilities and picking up slack’

The young men grouped together and crooned the chorus.

‘I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket’… ‘da da da’

They had their silly skit down to a fine artform but their charade stopped as soon as Adele rounded the corridor and came into earshot. They went back to their desks under a shower of paperclips, balled-up post-it notes and pencils thrown at them by the female litigators, who thought the men childish.

No one looked up when Adele Edwards came into view and strode towards her office; they made sure they looked busy.

Their wish had been granted, as it always was. Adele was indeed wearing her usual uniform of a short skirt and a long jacket – Armani; killer heels – Louboutin; exclusive hosiery - Wolford. Her lustrous brunette shoulder-length coif looked like she had just left her hairdresser. Her makeup was perfect; her jewellery subdued but still there.

Adele Edwards at thirty four years old was a stunningly beautiful woman. She was also the best and most senior Associate at the law firm.

Adrian Edwards disappeared in his third year of college, replaced by Adele Edwards who went through years of legal, psychological, and philological anguish until she was finally granted legal status as a woman, all the time studying for her law degree and the bar exam. It was fitting that she was finally awarded the status of being legally female on the day she was accepted to the bar.

For Adele, it was particularly difficult because although she had been allowed to legally change her name and change the sex on her driver’s licence, because she did not have proof of ‘irreversible sex change surgery’, the same state legislators that she would eventually work for, challenged her application.

She’d had a little facial feminisation surgery; she didn’t need much, she had breast augmentation of course, a tracheal shave, and had undertaken HRT and voice coaching. Adele was almost indistinguishable from any other woman.

When she won the case to be legally recognised as woman it made the news of course and Adele was offered many placements in small firms promoting transgender activism but that’s not what Adele wanted. She wanted to be part of the criminal justice system and had taken a lowly position in the DA’s office. She suffered prejudice of course; the only reason she had been given the job was because the DA’s office was subject to the State’s anti-discrimination legislation and the Office needed to prove they were not prejudiced. She was their ‘twofer’ because the DA considered that he had employed a transgendered person and a homosexual, which just showed how antiquated and puerile the DA’s office thinking was.

But Adele was highly intelligent, hardworking, and diligent and she also knew how to use her extreme good looks when necessary and she rose steadily through the ranks. By the time she was allowed try cases most people had forgotten that she was transgendered and her opponents just saw a strikingly beautiful woman. She often unnerved her male adversaries and caught them unaware.

Alan Tate came up against Adele in a fraud case which she lost, but only narrowly. Alan was impressed with the young assistant DA, she showed a lot of promise and was destined for a highly successful future in litigation.

He made Adele an offer she couldn’t refuse and she jumped ship from the DA’s office and a paltry salary to the glitz and glamour of a top end of town law firm. She earned her laurels, working her way slowly but steadily through the ranks until she was the most senior Associate and was a shoe-in to be offered a partnership.

Adele’s office was Swedish minimalist modern, as was her assistant Celia Bettany. Celia was British, very British. She had that upper-class London accent that drove men wild and a sense of class and style that the other girls envied. She preferred black short-skirted suits and ridiculously high heels. She changed the colour of her satin blouse daily depending on her mood, the only splash of colour she wore besides her silver jewellery. She wore her jet-black hair in a short bob with bangs cut straight; even her stockings were black, often fully fashioned. Her skin was pale, accentuated by her dark eye makeup and blood-red lipstick.

Celia was aloof and the support staff, paralegals and even some of the Associates were scared of her, but she was fiercely loyal to Adele Edwards.

A few months after Adele had recruited Celia as a junior Associate to replace her outgoing assistant, the Partners called Adel to a meeting.

“Your junior Associate,” Grahame Grantham began.

“What about her?” Adele crossed her legs and noticed that all the partners gawped, with the exception of Grahame Grantham who was openly gay.

“If she’s not breaking our office dress code she’s skating close to the edge,” Grahame growled.

“Really?” Adele raised her shaped eyebrows.

“She’s like some sort of British Goth,” Grahame continued.

“Follow me gentlemen,” Adele stood up.

Max and Allen could watch Adele get out of a chair all day.

She had an elegance about her as well as sexuality, she moved gracefully. As she arose she showed acres of thigh but never her underwear.

The Board followed Adele down the corridor to the main conference room. Adele stopped at a window and hit a switch which turned the opaque glass into a one-way mirror.

“They’re waiting for me,” Adele tapped a bright-red manicured fingernail against the glass.

Three stuffy suits from a rival law firm were here to settle a law suit. Celia was faffing around them getting them water and coffee, unnecessarily straightening the stationary on the table, reaching up to the top shelf to take down a law manual that was completely immaterial to the case.

The three men were mesmerised, they couldn’t take their eyes off her. They ogled her firm breasts, they followed the back-seam of her black stockings to the gauzy welt at the top as it popped into view. They visibly swallowed when she reached up for the book, displaying not only the alabaster skin at the top of her thigh, but a flash of red satin panty. Not one of them was studying their briefs or their case notes.

“By the time I walk in there to settle, their brains will be oatmeal,” Adele chuckled.

They watched one of the lawyers sitting at the conference table push his erection into a more comfortable position in his pants.

“They’ll be off their game, struggling to concentrate and I’ll take them for a huge settlement,” Adele grinned at the Partners.

“That’s unfair legal practice,” Grahame Grantham huffed.

“That’s just using a home field advantage,” Adele countered, switching off the one-way mirror.

“That’s fucking brilliant,” Max Walker chuckled.

“That’s Adele’s law,” Alan Tate smirked.

The Partners shuffled back to their offices and Adel went in for the kill.

Adele was in her office early on Monday morning sipping coffee, her legs were crossed and she was dangling a heel. She smiled when she noticed the firm's mailboy pass her office at least half a dozen times. She was sitting sideways at her desk and he would have full view of her legs through the open door.

Celia Bettany had laid out the major national and local newspapers on Adele's desk. Adele had finished the nationals and was reading the law report in the local rag when she suddenly stiffened. She put down her coffee and got up and closed the door to her office and returned to her desk and laid out the paper and studied the article buried at the bottom of the page.

‘Local Businessmen Cleared of Sexual Assault Charges’

Four prominent local businessmen were cleared of sexual assault charges yesterday in the Supreme Court. Daniel Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady and Mitchell Brooks who are all Executives for a company that has several lucrative Defense contracts were found not guilty of sexually assaulting a woman who cannot be named for legal purposes. The men, whose identities were supressed under a court order until yesterday, said to this reporter that justice had been done.

“All I have to say is that it was proved that the woman was a willing participant; there’s too much of this ‘Me Too’ (expletive) going on at the moment. Prominent men are now targets for vexatious litigation. We are considering a countersuit,” Brian Stetford said from the courthouse steps.

Adele began to shake. She had never forgotten her own ordeal at the hands of these men. Even though she seldom thought about the incident these days, when her mind wasn’t racing with work she occasionally recalled what had happened to her.

Sexual assault affects all women differently and Adele was no different. Immediately after the incident she was scared that the four men would out her for being a closet transvestite, or worse, start showing the pictures they taken that night around the campus.

When that didn’t happen something strange and illogical did. She was still gender dysphoric, there was no changing that, but she suddenly became dangerously promiscuous.

Adele went to gay and transgender friendly bars dressed provocatively and flaunted herself, going back to seedy hotels with faceless men. The more depraved the sex the more she liked it. Being powerless and vulnerable while the men used her turned her on incredibly and it became a compulsion.

By the time she had come-out publicly as a trans-woman and started going through the rigours of sex reassignment Adele's sexual appetite was almost insatiable. She told her phycologist what had happened to her, how it made her feel and how she had developed an almost nymphomanic need for sex. The phycologist, a very understanding woman, made Adele think of the consequences. She was trying to legally change her gender whilst at the same time studying for a law degree. If her promiscuity was made public her chances of achieving either of these objectives would be gravely in doubt.

She sent Adele to a psychiatrist who helped Adele work through her issues and Adele was eventually able to control her sexual compunction. But sometimes she still dreamt about what those boys had done to her and although she felt ashamed, she often awoke having had a nocturnal emission.

Now; fifteen years later, it would appear that the same four men were going to get away with it again. How many other women had had to bear the same depravity as Adele had at their hands?

She smashed her fist on the table. No more! They were going to pay; if not for their crimes against her, than the crimes against this young woman.

She pressed the call button on her intercom.

“Celia. Get in here!” she barked.

To be continued.

Adele opened the door to her apartment and put down her handbag and keys on the hall table. She took an envelope out of her handbag and placed it on the table. It was late, after eleven in the evening, Adele always worked late.

She noticed that her bedroom door was ajar and a beam of light spilled into the hallway. Adele stopped in the kitchen briefly and poured herself a glass of Shiraz and then walked down to her bedroom.

“You’re late,” the handsome young man lay naked on her bed.

His body was tanned and toned and he wore his sun-bleached hair a little longer than was the fashion. He had a Texas drawl and when dressed he sported tight jeans, western shirts and snakeskin boots. He fancied himself as an urban cowboy.

He was currently naked and sporting an eight-inch erection which stood up proud from his shaved groin.

“I’m never late. Besides, you get paid well enough not to complain if I am,” Adele put down her wine on the bedside table.

“At least you left your heels on; you know I love those heels,” the cowboy grinned up at her showing perfectly white teeth, and his sensuous mouth; his face was ridiculously handsome.

“Shut up and suck my cock,” Adele approached the bed.

She lifted her skirt, pulled her panties down to her knees and reached into her pantyhose and winced a little as she removed the surgical tape and did that thing she did which lowered her testes back into her scrotum.

Adele moved to the edge of the ped and eased down the waistband of her pantyhose a little and offered her cock. The cowboy, who used the pseudonym Roy, scooted across the bed and took Adele in his mouth. He cupped her scrotum through her sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose.

“It’s easier for me if you take these off or at least pull them down a little,” Roy tugged at the waistband of her hose.

“I like the feel of the waistband pressing on the base of my cock and besides I don’t give a fuck what’s easy for you. Just keep sucking,” Adele pushed his face back to her groin.

Roy was good at his job and worked his mouth expertly on Adele’s long thick cock, bringing her close to climax and then backing off before she came. Her precum tasted sweet and he liked it. He liked a lot of things about Adele but it was not his place to tell her, it was his job to service her.

Adele pushed his face from her groin and picked up her wine and took a sip.

“Enough of that; let’s fuck,” Adele decreed.

“Whose turn is it to be mommy?” Roy grinned up at her.

“Mine honey, you know it is,” Adele opened the top drawer of the bedside table and tossed a tube of lubricant at him.

He got to his knees and went about the business of lubricating the full eight inches of his phallus while Adele took off her jacket, blouse, skirt and panties. She lay down on the bed leaving on her pantyhose bra and heels. She put two pillows under the small of her back and opened her legs.

“Can I take off your bra, I want to spend some time on those tits?” Roy asked as he placed a gobbet of the lubricant on her puckered sphincter.

“No time for foreplay cowboy; I have work to do,” Adele reached for him and positioned him at her entrance.

Roy held her hips but otherwise kept still, allowing Adele to slowly impale herself on his huge cock. When he was buried to the hilt in her anus she wriggled a little to position him just right inside her and then nodded.

“Ok. Fuck me cowboy,” Adele commanded.

Roy began to slowly fuck the gorgeous woman lying beneath him, he bought his cock all the way out of her until her sphincter ringed his glans and then pushed his way slowly back into her.

“Mmm, that’s nice but I don’t have all night,” Adele sighed.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him close to her. She kissed him passionately and rose to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck her harder and faster. Roy loved the way she used her anal muscles on him, squeezing his hard cock inside her. Adele began to moan and Roy fucked her harder as she raked her nails across his back and her heels on his flanks, encouraging him.

His big cock did all the things she liked, it stretched her sphincter and pressed on her prostate while his hard belly pressed and rubbed against her own silken-sheathed appendage which was leaking copious amounts of pre-seminal fluid. She was close and told him so.

“Now!” she screamed into his mouth and rose up and drove herself against the young man.

Adele quivered and spasmed and Roy felt her scalding issue against his belly as he fucked her vigorously and came with her. Adele clung to him, writhing and using her internal muscles to drain him. They gasped as they kissed, bit, and sucked on each other’s mouths. Roy broke the kiss and held Adele down on the bed and fucked her even harder as the last of his long, intense orgasm began to subside. He knew that she liked being forced down on the bed, being held almost defenceless at the end, even when she fucked him she made him hold her tight and force himself against her when she came in him.

He lay on top of her, exhausted, they were both panting. Adele pushed him off her and Roy rolled onto his side. He wiped her taut belly and her penis and groin with the fragranced facecloth he had put on his side of the bed before she came home, then he cleaned himself.

Adele’s penis was still semi-erect and he stroked it playfully.

“Why did you keep it?” Roy waggled her appendage impishly.

Adele reached for her wine.

“So I can fuck over-inquisitive young men like yourself with it,” she searched in the drawer for her post-coital cigarette.

“You could easily afford vaginoplasty,” Roy said seriously.

Adele had tried out a few young men from the high-class escort agency and had finally settled on Roy. He knew how to please her, was unbelievably handsome, and not as stupid as he made himself out to be.

“There’s a little extra cash in the envelope tonight, don’t make me regret putting it in there,” Adele said sternly, lighting her cigarette.

She kicked off her heels, unclasped her brassiere and wriggled out of her pantyhose.

“You want?” she held out the pantyhose.

Roy smiled sheepishly and took them. She didn’t know what he did with them and she didn’t want to know.

“Can I shower?” Roy was stuffing Adele’s pantyhose into his battered leather satchel.

“Not tonight cowboy,” Adele said dismissively stubbing out her cigarette and reached for her laptop bag.

****

"Where are we?" Adele was wearing her usual uniform of charcoal grey short-skirted suit, satin blouse, and heels.

She tousled her hair, pacing back and forth in her office. She'd taken off her jacket which came almost to the hem of her skirt and hung it from a hanger behind the door. Her taupe nylons glistened under the florescent lights, her spiked heels digging into the expensive carpet.

Celia Bettany sat on a hard-backed chair, legs crossed. Today she wore a dark blue silk blouse to add a splash of colour to her otherwise all-black tight-fitting business suit. Today, by exception, she was wearing sheer black pantyhose instead of her usual stockings, which was just as well as her skirt was micro-mini.

"We are exactly nowhere. The DA's office is refusing to release the name of their witness and I've tried all my usual contacts at the courthouse. My guess is the four men, or more likely their company, is pressing hard to keep the whole thing on the down-low until people forget about it," Celia tapped her pen against her teeth.

"Fuck!" Adele paced up and down.

"Who was the prosecutor?" Adele asked.

"Miles Brown," Celia looked down at her legal pad.

"I don't know him. He must have started in the DA's office after I left," Adele sighed.

"I know him," Celia gave Adele a wry smile.

It was almost like history repeating itself when Adele had stolen Celia, their most promising junior assistant, from the DA's office to work at Grantham, Walker and Tate.

"And?" Adele could see that Celia had more to say.

"And I assisted him on a few cases," Celia's smile grew, her full-lips veneered with blood-red lipstick.

"And?" Adele continued.

"He had the hots for me," Celia grinned.

"Really? He did?" Adele was a little incredulous.

"I really need the name of that witness Celia. I mean I really need it," Adele gave Celia a knowing look.

Celia arose and stood very close to Adele, searching her deep blue eyes. Then she looked away.

"I'll go and see him then," Celia, smoothed her skirt and walked out of Adele's office.

*****

Miles Brown approached his small office in the very back of the Prosecutor's Offices and noticed that the door was open. He could smell Celia Bettany's perfume before he could even see her.

She was sitting on his desk, posed provocatively with her ridiculously short skirt so high on her thighs that she might as well not be wearing one. Her blue silk blouse had the top three buttons undone and he could see the black lace trim of her blue satin brassiere.

"What has Her Majesty sent you for this time Celia?" Miles pretended not to notice any of the wares she was openly displaying.

"Really Miles; what makes you think I'm here because I want something?" Celia crossed her legs, swishing her nylons, and put a blood-red painted fingernail in her equally blood-red painted lips.

"You worked here for four years Celia. We tried cases together. You're an intelligent and resourceful lawyer with huge potential and then Her Majesty stole you away. You want something," he rummaged in his briefcase feigning disinterest.

"Adele did not steal me; that would imply that you owned me. She recruited me to a better paying position with better prospects," Celia countered.

"I never took you for a money whore Celia," Miles regretted saying it as soon as he had said it.

Celia slid nimbly off the desk, sidestepped Miles, leaned around him, pushed the door closed and locked it. She turned to Miles and slapped him across the face.

"Don't call me a money whore Miles! I'm no kind of whore! You wore your heart on your sleeve for me for four years, begging me to go out with you. I could have, just to get promoted, but I didn't," Celia was only inches away from him.

Miles could smell her perfume, appreciate her distinctive beauty, he'd never gotten over his longing for her.

Celia didn't move when he put his lips to hers. She opened her lips to let him put his tongue in her mouth. She kept her arms passively at her sides when he enfolded her in his; she could feel his cock pressing against her belly.

"We'll have to be quick," she breathed heavily as she pushed him away.

She bent over his desk and lifted her skirt revealing panties that matched the blue satin bra. Underneath the panties her buttocks were glad in black gossamer nylon.

Miles swallowed. He'd wanted this woman for so long that he could not resist her.

Miles unzipped his flies, there was no time for foreplay, the outer office would soon be filled with busy staff needing his advice and supervision.

"How do I…" Miles stammered.

Celia's sigh was impatient. She quickly pulled down her panties, stepped out of them and then pulled the waistband of her pantyhose down to the middle of her thighs. She opened her legs as wide as she could, given the constraints.

Miles gazed at her creamy buttocks and thighs and stepped behind her. When she took him in hand to guide him to her smooth-shaven sex he nearly came. His leaking pre-ejaculate was so bountiful that Celia was able to lubricate his whole rock-hard cock with it, which was as well because she was dry.

Miles slid into her and Celia grunted as he filled her tight vagina with his long thick cock.

He tried to put his hands inside her blouse but she pushed them away.

"Hurry," she scolded him.

Miles thrust, once, twice, three times and then he ejaculated, pushing himself all the way inside her and holding her close against him. He writhed and gasped until he was spent and then fell on top of Celia, still bent over the desk.

She gave him a minute and then shook him off. They both took tissues out of the box on the desk and cleaned themselves. Celia mechanically hauled up her pantyhose and smoothed out the nylon and then stepped into and pulled up and adjusted her panties. She pulled down and straightened her little skirt.

Miles had put himself away and zipped up. He unlocked and opened the door to his office so as not to raise suspicion. He looked outside and saw that other offices and open plan work area were beginning to get busy. When he turned around Celia had her compact out and was fixing her lipstick.

"What was that for?" Miles was no fool.

"I want the case notes on the Mitchell Brooks trial," Celia said matter-of-factly, using her little fingernail to pick off a piece of errant lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

"For Her Majesty I suppose," Miles grunted.

Celia remained silent, impatiently tapping one of her heels.

"The blue one," Miles pointed with his chin to a file on his desk.

Celia picked it up and put in her briefcase.

"So you are a whore if Adele wants you to be one," once again Miles regretted his anger.

Celia said nothing and strode to the door.

"Celia! I'm sorry I said that; I'm so sorry," he implored her.

She stood in the doorway and just gave him an icy stare.

"Can I see you again?" he beseeched her.

"Hell no! I'm a lesbian you idiot," she quipped and turned away.

The paralegal who entered Miles' office not long after Celia had left detected the distinctive odour of sex. He picked up on Miles' stormy demeanour immediately and said nothing.

*****

"And her name is really Melody Summers, oh you've got to be kidding me," Adele and Celia sat at a table in a small coffee shop watching the losing complainant in the Mitchell Brooks, Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford, and Peter Grady trial.

"Oh god; she's priceless. How could you lose with a witness like that? That little kewpie-doll against those four brutes!" Adele sipped her frappuccino.

"I mean just look at her!" Adele sighed.

Melody Summers stood a smidgen over five feet in stocking feet. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, pert breasts, a little too big for her small frame, long legs and a cute, pretty face currently devoid of makeup. Adele knew that Melody was twenty-three-years-old but she looked fifteen, especially dressed as she was.

Melody was wearing a black lycra body-suit, sneakers and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had a gym bag beside her table and was sipping fruit-infused mineral water. She had a glow about her having just finished a workout.

"Yeah. She's a kewpie-doll," Celia said, sarcastically throwing a bunch of photographs on the table.

They had been taken 'the night of' and Melody looked nothing like a kewpie doll. She was wearing a floor-length red satin sheath split to the thigh showing off those gorgeous gams sheathed in glistening flesh-toned pantyhose. Her high heels gave her another three inches. That long blonde hair had been professionally coiffed and piled on her head giving her more height. Her makeup was also professionally applied and as well as making her look sexy, she looked all of her twenty-three years and then some.

"She won't be wearing an evening gown to court," Adele snapped.

"The jury is gonna see these, and a lot more," Celia countered.

"Let's go make our pitch," Adele sucked the last of her frappuccino, deliberately making a slurping noise when she got to the bottom of the glass because she knew that Celia hated it.

Adele and Celia had dressed down too. They were also wearing gym attire, leggings, tight lycra tops and gym shoes. Celia of course was all in black and she refused to remove her makeup, which was fair enough as she didn't remove it when she really went to the gym.

"What do you call a bus full of lawyers driving off a cliff?" Adele said pulling up a chair to Melody's table and sitting uninvited to Melody's left.

"A good start," Celia replied sitting down on other side of Melody.

Melody looked confused and a little scared.

"What do you call a bus full of lawyers driving off a cliff with three spare seats?" Celia asked.

"A missed opportunity," Adele replied.

Adele dropped her business card on the table and Melody picked it up and studied it. Her blank face suddenly clouded over and she made to get up.

"We can get them for you," Adele said dryly.

"We can make them pay," Celia added.

Melody looked around angrily but she sat down.

"How do you know who I am?" she hissed.

"You're Melody Summers and the DA should have won the case you bought him," Adele replied.

"I didn't bring him a case. I made a complaint to the police which the DA used to build a case, which was lost in court. All I came away with was my anonymity, which now appears to be compromised," Melody looked around, likely looking for paparazzi.

"Well there you go. You're a smart girl," Adele said quietly.

"Those animals said they were going to counter-sue," Melody whispered.

"But they didn't. They didn't because they know they are guilty," Celia chipped in.

Melody stared at the table saying nothing for a while.

She looked up.

"What do you mean, you can get them?" she asked.

"What do you know about civil litigation?" Adele smiled.

*****

Even though they had the case file which included the witness statements and medical reports, they made Melody tell the whole story again for them. They let her talk uninterrupted, taking notes on yellow legal pads. Melody got emotional and sometimes squeamish when she got to the details of what happened in the room with the four men but she got through it.

Adele and Celia summarised her statement.

"You received an anonymous invitation to attend a cocktail party at the Beaumont Hotel. It was a charity event with some of the state's biggest celebrities, politicians and business people," Adele began.

"You work as a copywriter for one of the city's biggest advertising agency and such invitations are not unusual as events like these want publicity."

"During the evening you met Mitchell Brooks, who you claim to know vaguely from some work you did for his company a while ago and you struck up a conversation," is that right?

Melody nodded.

Both Adele and Celia thought that Melody was leaving something out there, but now was not the time to badger her. They just wanted to confirm the outline of the case.

"You had drinks and Mitchell invited you upstairs where he claimed there was a private reception where he would introduce you to some local celebrities."

"When you got to the room, you found yourself alone with Mitchell, who proceeded to seduce you, to which you acquiesced, but then Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford and Peter Grady entered the room and forced you to have sex," Adele said.

"They took pictures of you with their phones during the sex and when they were done told you that they would make them public if you said anything. That they would ruin you," Celia said softly, she could see Melody was getting upset having to continually re-tell her story.

"You reported the incident to the police who had you examined and your clothes forensically tested. A doctor found evidence of recent vaginal and anal intercourse but no bruising, swelling or abrasions other than those consistent with vigorous sex."

"Semen deposits were found in your vagina, your anus, on your dress and in your underwear which were forensically matched to Mitchell Brooks, Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford and Peter Grady, who of course claimed the sex was consensual," Adele breathed deeply.

"A perfect case of 'he said - she said'", Celia concluded.

"Which is why they were found not guilty," Melody stated the obvious.

They took a break. They were sitting in Adele's office two days after Adele and Celia had approached Melody in the coffee shop. Celia went for soft drinks and when she came back they sat around Adele's small conference table.

"Listen to me Melody," she took Melody's hand in hers.

"I need to tell you something," Adele said soberly.

Melody nodded, she was listening intently.

"The odds of a plaintiff's lawyer winning in civil court are two to one against. In this case, with their resources, it's more likely three to one."

"Any reputable lawyer is going to advise you to settle out of court. They likely wouldn't take the case unless you are prepared to settle. Do you understand?" Adele took Melody's hand in hers.

"But I don't want to settle. I want those men to have to face up to what they did," Adele squeezed Melody's hand.

"They're never going to admit what they did Melody. Never. The prosecutor had a chance to prove what they did in the criminal court but they were found not guilty," Adele said in a sympathetic tone.

"But… if you are willing to take the stand, and you will have to, you will get to tell your side of the story," Adele said.

"They said I was a willing participant; Daniel Benstead said as much to the press," Melody began to break up.

"They are going to drag out any dirt they can find on you Melody. Other than what you have told us up to now, is there anything else that we need to know? Anything?" Adele asked gravely.

Melody shook her head.

"It's going to be messy. They will play dirty. They will question your morals and your integrity. They are going to bring up graphic sordid details about that evening."

"Trials are a corruption of the entire civil litigation process and only fools who have something to prove end up ensnared in them. But this will be your chance to tell your side of story and if we can get some sympathy from the jury, if we can get one or two of them to believe you, it might, it's unlikely, but it might just turn the case," Adele finished her speech.

"Let's sue," Melody said determinedly.

"Then let's file," Adele smiled reassuringly.

****

Adele sat in Grahame Grantham's office with Max Walker and Alan Tate in attendance.

"What's going on Adele? A clerk from Karl Brinkman's chambers called me and told me that our firm is bringing a civil action against Mitch Brooks and three of his associates," Grahame stirred his coffee.

Adele was pissed when the case was assigned to Judge Karl Brinkman. He was embedded in far-right politics. He was a white septuagenarian with staunch traditionalist and misogynist views on sexuality, gender, race, and was of course pro-life.

"Those men work for a subsidiary of Brindle Holdings, a company with extensive Government contracts including the Department of Defense. You know Brindle Holdings?" Max Walker spoke to her like she was child, but Adele did not rise.

"Yes I know Brindle Holdings and its subsidiaries and I know we represent some of those subsidiaries. I know those men are rich and powerful, otherwise I would not be sitting here," Adele stated the bleeding obvious.

"And that's the beauty of this law suit. The allegations are so outrageous and damaging, whether they are true or not, that it will never go to court; the case will be settled and the company will probably pay the settlement for them. We will take thirty percent of the settlement," Adele had no intention of settling, but she would not tell these men that.

"Look it's not a conflict of interest. That's already been ruled on, this is a personal suit, not a claim against any of the companies we represent," Adele explained.

"Rulings have been made?" Alan Tate leaned forward, the Partners were not aware that the case had progressed this far.

"We are at disclosure," Adele replied and the three partners were taken aback.

"This case was thrown out of the criminal court, what chance do you have of a settlement?" Grahame Grantham said brusquely.

"The civil proceedings were in a closed court, the defendants were not named until after the verdict. The evidence that our client will give is sordid and detailed, whether she's believed or not. The men are conservative, professionals; married with children. They won't want the plaintiff to tell her story in open court; they will settle," Adele smiled at the three Partners.

Alan Tate began to grin.

"You're a shark Adele," he leaned over and patted her knee.

Adele let him. Alan thought she was his protégé and he had a small crush on her and although it was harmless he liked to fondle her on the odd occasion when he could get away with it.

Adele took this as her cue to leave.

"Tread carefully Ms Edwards; tread very carefully," Grahame Grantham said solemnly as she got to the door.

Adele smiled back at him and turned away.

"What was that about?" Celia was waiting for Adele in her office.

"I just lied to the partners. If I was you, I'd unhitch your wagon from mine," Adele studied Celia's face.

Celia took Adele's hand in hers.

"I'm along for the ride partner," Celia gave a pretty good John Wayne impression.

"Well hang on tight honey, because it's going to a bumpy ride," Adele squeezed Celia's hand.

To be continued.

Both Adele and Celia were wearing hold-up stockings and panties, nothing else. They had undressed this far before falling onto Adele's bed.

Celia was on her back and Adele lay beside her, suckling one of Celia's nipples whilst stroking the other. Celia had her arms around Adele encouraging her. Then they kissed, lazily exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. Their lovemaking could be swift and torrid, or like tonight, long, soft and sensuous. They had begun kissing on the lounge, taken their foreplay to the bedroom while still clothed, and now lay on the bed almost ready to consummate their love.

Celia gasped as Adele's fingers slowly made their way down the snow-white flesh of her belly and cupped Celia's pubis. Adele rubbed Celia's diaphanous panties against her mound, making Celia hiss. Celia found Adele erect inside her satin panties and squeezed it. They liked to tease each other before removing their underwear, if indeed they even bothered to.

Adele snaked a finger inside Celia's panties and found her moist and warm, she smiled around their kiss.

"You want it don't you?" Adele whispered.

"I always want you," Celia gasped when Adele opened her like unfurling the petals of a flower.

Adele sighed as Celia freed her rampant penis from her panties. Her cock was long and thick; she sometimes had difficulty keeping it tucked when she was dressed, especially around Celia.

Celia stroked and squeezed her lover's cock whilst Adele circled Celia's clitoris, teasing her. Adele made to move down the bed, she liked to orally please Celia, lapping at her juicy cunt, building Celia almost to climax and then backing off until Celia pushed Adele's face into her sex and kept her there until she came.

"Not tonight. I want you inside me. Now," Celia snuggled against Adele.

Celia slid under Adele, opening her legs wide and then clamping then around Adele's waist.

"Fuck me," Celia whispered, looking up into Adele's deep blue eyes.

Celia's eyes were brown, alive and sparkling with excitement. She considered herself to be the luckiest woman in the world to have a lover like Adele.

"Make me," Adele murmured.

She lowered her face and kissed Celia passionately.

Celia made her.

She found Adele's hard, throbbing cock pressed against her lower belly and guided it inside her panties and nestled the glans in her labia.

"Huh!" Celia gasped as she pushed up and impaled herself on Adele's cock.

"Now," Celia bit Adele's earlobe.

Celia hung on as Adele began to fuck her hard and easy. Her cunt clung onto Adele's phallus when she withdrew, not wanting the appendage to leave her void, she rose to meet Adele's next thrust, and the next, They crushed their lips together, bruising them with the intensity of their passion as their excitement built. Adele ensured her pubis pushed on Celia's clitoris, grinding against it, bringing her close as she impaled her lover.

Adele was close too, she sensed Celia was about to climax. They gasped into each other's mouths and pressed their bodies together, Celia drummed her feet in the small of Adele's back encouraging her to ejaculate.

Adele's sperm erupted from her throbbing penis just as Celia orgasmed; she felt Celia's cunt contract and spasm, wringing Adele's precious seed from her. The women rubbed and fretted against one and other in their frenzy, clicking teeth, raking nails, crying out, gasping and groaning as they came to their apogee and then their fervour slowly started to ebb.

Celia lay in Adele's embrace, her black hair damp, glistening in the gloom, her lipstick was gone, her lips bruised, her mascara had run. Adele fared no better, her brunette shoulder-length hair was a tangled mess, her makeup ruined. The room stank of sex.

"Another pair of stockings ruined," Celia chuckled.

"Shut up," Adele kissed the tip of her nose.

Celia shucked out of her sodden panties and flicked them across the room with her foot.

"Hey! I hope you're going to pick them up," Adele sniggered, voice deep and husky.

"Are you going to make me?" Celia playfully slapped Adele's slowly deflating penis.

"You're asking for it bitch!" Adele growled playfully and climbed on Celia again.

Later, freshly showered, wearing clean underwear, still in bed propped up on pillows and sipping coffee, they both studied case files.

"Adele?" Celia asked softly.

"Huh?" Adele was deep into her file.

"Why do you want this case so bad? Why are you determined not to settle; determined to make that poor girl testify?" Celia turned to face her lover.

"It doesn't matter why; they need to face up to what they did," Adele wouldn't look at Celia; she went back to the file.

Celia pushed Adele's file away from her.

"Do you love me?" Celia looked lovingly into Adele's eyes.

"Of course I do. I've loved you since the moment I saw you," she tousled Celia's hair, still damp from the shower.

Celia sat up straight and glared at her.

"Ok," Adele whispered.

Adele told her.

*****

Mitchell Brooks and his three co-defendants had hired one of the best litigators in the State, John Murray. John was ruthless and would use whatever tactics were needed to win a case.

John, Adele and Celia sat in the chambers of Judge Karl Brinkman. The judge looked disapprovingly at the two women.

"I hope you ladies are going to dress appropriately when you enter my court," he growled.

"We have appropriate court attire Judge," Adele replied.

Adele had never won a case with Judge Brinkman presiding. Adele knew that the judge had contempt for female lawyers and Adele had been passed on a comment he had made about her at his country club.

"That woman should be married and at home, barefoot and pregnant. Although that thing is hardly likely to get pregnant is she?" he'd joked.

Thankfully there weren't many who thought like that nowadays but the assembled audience all laughed; they might have the Judge presiding over their case one day after all.

"Since neither party is going to settle I suppose we will have to bring this matter to court," the Judge began.

"Are both sides content with the disclosure proceedings?" the judge asked.

Both sides had withheld elements of discovery but neither would admit it. This was going to be a jury trial and they both wanted to catch the other wrongfooted to impress the jury and likely persuade the them to their side.

All three lawyers nodded.

"Now we come to the photographs. These pictures are very explicit Mr Murray, I've never seen anything as sexually graphic as these being produced in open court," the judge flicked through the pictures before him.

"They are also prejudicial to your case; they prove that all four men had sex with the plaintiff," the judge continued to stare at the photographs, working through them one at a time.

"True your honour, but they also show that the woman was complicit; that the sex was consensual. They constitute exculpatory evidence," John Murray said authoritatively.

"The particulars of the plaintiff's facts and their whole suit is based on the presumption that she did not consent," John folded his arms.

"Another one of these 'me too' claims I suppose," the judge harrumphed.

"If you object to these pictures being produced in court Ms Edwards I'm likely to likely to rule these pictures inadmissible evidence, which would be in your favour," the judge could not put them down.

"The plaintiff's counsel believes that the pictures also constitute inculpatory evidence Judge," Celia countered.

The judge looked at Celia, his distaste with her appearance obvious.

"You make sure your co-counsel keeps her place in my courtroom Ms Edwards; I only want one lawyer at a time presenting to the court," the judge went back to studying the pictures.

"Well I guess we will let the jury decide what or what not the pictures prove," the judge finally put the stack of photographs down on his desk.

"The only stipend I ask your honour is that the plaintiff also be allowed to produce their own pictures in court as a rebuttal if necessary," Adele asked

The judge nodded and John Murray did not object.

"I take it both parties are ready to proceed? No chance of a late settlement?" the judge looked at John Murray then at Adele Edwards.

Neither party spoke.

"We begin voir dire on Monday. You ladies make sure you dress like lawyers for my court not like hookers; but no pantsuits and no bare legs, some decorum in my court please," the judge waved at them dismissively.

"Fucking misogynist dinosaur!" Celia hissed when she left the judge's chambers.

"Don't worry about him, worry about Melody Summers. How is prep going?" Adele asked.

Celia dragged Adele into a vacant office.

"She's ok; she's tougher than she looks. I'm pretty sure she will be up to telling her story and being crossexamined but I'm not sure how she will hold up when those pictures get shown to the court," Celia said.

"Why the fuck didn't you have them ruled inadmissible? What is your strategy here Adele? What you told me about what happened to you is heartbreaking but I hope you are not using that young girl as means for you to get revenge," Celia was furious.

Adele pushed Celia against the wall and pressed her body against her.

"I love it when you get angry. It gets me all horny," Adele smiled wickedly and put her hand under Celia's skirt.

Celia pushed Adele’s hand away and extracted herself.

"That's all we need. Someone to see us and tell Judge Brinkman that we are lesbians!" Celia huffed.

"Are we though? I have a dick remember," Adele called after Celia as she strode purposely down the corridor leading to the court entrance.

"That girl has no sense of humour," Adele smiled to herself.

But inside she was worried. She was missing something she was sure of it and John Murray was not a litigator to be taken lightly.

*****

The voir dire went as well as could be expected given the jury pool. Five white men, two black men, two black women and three white women were selected. Despite interrogation it was hard tell what their prejudices might be; people lied. And some people wouldn't admit to themselves that they had prejudices.

The good news for Adele and Celia was that a fifty-five-year-old mother of three, Millicent Ford, was elected the forewoman of the jury. It could go two ways. Mrs Ford was a black woman who had put her children through college on the meagre wages that she and her husband bought home. She might see Melody Summers as a privileged young white woman.

But she might also have sympathy for Melody; all of Millicent Ford's children were girls.

The afternoon after voir dire was completed Adele was once again summoned to a Partner's meeting.

"You told us they would settle," Grahame Grantham was visibly angry.

"I think they are holding out, making us sweat, hoping we will withdraw the suit," Adele lied.

"So you intend to try the case if they don't settle Adele? Trial starts Monday and you don't have a sympathetic judge," Max Walker stated the bleeding obvious.

"I don't need a sympathetic judge; I need a sympathetic jury," Adele countered.

"What about costs if you lose?" Graham always thought about money.

"It's the cost of doing business Graham; you know that. I thought you of all people would be supportive," Adele replied.

"Being gay does not make me a philanthropist; I'm a capitalist," he grinned.

"Speaking of which… Alan has a task for you that might ease the pain for us if you are defeated," Grahame smiled at her mirthlessly.

Adele looked at each of the partners questioningly.

"Come down to my office Adele. We can talk about it," Alan Tate put out his hand like gentleman.

However he took station astern of her as they walked down the corridor so he could ogle her ass and her legs. Adele was wearing a short skirt and a long jacket as usual, navy blue pinstripe, white blouse, charcoal pantyhose and black high heels.

"Sit," he offered Adele a chair in his office and watched her take her seat.

Adele declined coffee, wanting Alan to get on with it so she could get back to her case.

"You know Peter Duffy I believe?" Alan began his pitch.

Adele scratched her head; she knew so many people, lawyers and clients rubbed against each other all the time. Then she remembered where she knew the name from.

"He's a lobbyist for some of the most powerful corporations in the State," Adele replied.

"Isn't he the one who convinced the California legislature to allow their ground water to be used by the bottled water companies. The state experiencing one of it's worst droughts on record allows bottled water companies to take their reserves of artesian water, treat it, and sell it in plastic bottles; what a scam," Adele had heard of him.

"Correct. And he's looking for a law firm to keep his ass covered and to conduct research for him. The Partners think this guy will bring in some substantial fees," Alan said.

"Ok… and I need to know this because?" Adele tried vainly to pull the hem of her skirt down her thighs where Alan's eyes remained riveted.

"Because he has asked for you specifically to pitch for us," Alan grinned.

"Me? Specifically me?" Adele smelled a rat.

"Look you know how these things work. You go out to dinner, keep him amused, show a bit of this a bit of that, listen to his stories, laugh at his jokes and then you land him for us," Alan beamed at her.

"You guys do know it is 2019 right?" Adele was exasperated.

It pissed her that men still insisted that woman use their good looks to influence other men. She didn’t mind doing it of her own accord of course, but she didn’t like to be peddled.

"Look Adele. You are smart, articulate, intuitive, and a brilliant lawyer with a rosy future in this firm. I'm sending you because you are the best person for the job and I'm sure that's why Peter Duffy asked for you," Alan patted her knee, his fingers lingering.

"So it has nothing to with the fact that I'm single, beautiful, have a great ass, tits, and legs," she countered.

"See… I told you that you were smart. Do this for me and I'll keep the other partners at bay while you fight your case against grumpy old Karl Brinkman and John Murray," Alan smiled at her again.

"Does he know?" Adele got ready to leave.

"Know what?" Alan shrugged his shoulders.

"You know what I mean," Adele groused.

"See. I told you that you were intuitive too," Alan tried to pat her ass on the way out but she gave him a reproachful look and he decided that discretion was the better part of valour.

*****

"Why do you have to do this? Why are you prostituting yourself?" Celia whined.

She'd followed Adele around the apartment like a dependant kid tugging on her mother's apron strings. This is why Adele and Celia could not live together. When Celia was good she was very, very good but when she was bad she was horrid.

Celia had always tolerated Adele's promiscuity because she knew that Adele needed a man to scratch her itch now and then and was grateful that Adele mostly confined her infidelities to Lotharios provided by a reputable escort agency.

She was not happy that Adele was going on a date; a date-date, with dinner, and wine and god knows what.

"They're using you. You know that! He's probably some fat old man with a tranny fetish!" Celia shut up, knowing she had gone too far.

"Go home Celia; I'll see you tomorrow," Adele was glad that she now had the moral high-ground because Peter Duffy was far from being a fat old man.

He was a very handsome, fit man who filled out his dinner suit very nicely and his smile when he greeted Adele at the restaurant would have melted any girl's heart.

Adele was wearing a little black cocktail dress, sheer tan holdup stockings and her favourite black Jimmy Choo's. She carried a little silver clutch purse and wore silver jewellery.

"You look magnificent if I may say so," Peter pulled out her chair for her.

He didn't stare at her legs or down her dress like most men would have when she sat and he eased her chair under the table.

"Thank you; you don't look too shabby yourself Mister Duffy," Adele smiled up at him.

"'Not too shabby; what a hoot!'" his laugh was genuine

"But Mister Duffy is my father, I'm Peter," he smiled at her and offered his hand.

Adele shook it and angled away from him when he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"No European greeting?" he took the rebuke with good nature, dropped her napkin in her lap and sat down opposite her.

"This is a business meeting Mister Duffy," her eyes sparkled, she was actually quite stricken with this handsome man but there was no way she was going to let him know.

'Listen to his stories, laugh at his jokes, land him for the firm and then go home and rub one out,' Adele thought to herself.

"Very well Ms Edwards; may I at least call you Adele?" she could see that she had hurt him a little.

He had been nothing but polite and gentlemanly and she had belittled him. Well never mind, she just wanted to get the evening over.

But that's not how she felt as the evening drew to an end. Peter Duffy, as well as being extremely handsome, was also articulate, a good talker, and a good listener. He knew when to talk business, when to tell a joke, and intrigued her with some gossip from around the halls of power. He was an active listener and encouraged Adele to speak when she had something to say. He didn't 'man-splain' for her.

"Alan Tate told me that you asked for me personally; why?" Adele grilled him with her deep blue eyes.

"Because I've heard that you are a rising star around here in the legal profession," he stopped with his coffee halfway to his lips; the question had caught him unaware.

Adele canted her head slightly, indicating that she expected a better answer.

"Ok. And also because I'd seen pictures of you and heard others talk about how beautiful you are. That’s probably chauvinist of me but I was intrigued by you," he sipped his coffee, confident that he had answered Adele's question.

"Not because I have a dick then?" Adele glared at him.

Peter spat coffee back into the cup. He looked perplexed.

"Oh come on Peter; I'm all those things you say I am, I won't pretend to be modest. But a powerful, handsome man like you can have any beautiful woman you want. Am I just a curio to you?" Adele knew that she was being unfair but she couldn't stop herself.

Unconsciously she knew what she was doing. She was extremely attracted to this man so she was using her defence mechanisms to push him away; confront and insult him and he'll leave her alone.

Peter recovered.

"I am all those things you say I am too. I know I'm handsome and yes I have power; I certainly have money. These are all traits and skills I use to be a successful lobbyist," Peter stared at her openly.

"If I wanted to bed a beautiful transsexual woman I could just pay for one. And to be honest I didn't know that you still had a dick, as you put it," his smile was open, honest and addictive.

Adele couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Have I been a real bitch?" she looked at him and her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

"You are a very intelligent, beautiful lady who knows what she wants and how to get it. I've probably been a little boorish and overexcited in your presence that's all. Let's get our coats and I'll call a car for you," he put his napkin on the table and started to rise.

He pulled back Adele's chair for her and leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"But yes; you've been a bitch," she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck and it felt very sensuous.

He paid the bill and escorted Adele to the front of the restaurant.

"Would you be offended if I called a car for you? I need to call one for myself anyway," Peter pulled his cell from his pocket.

"Where are going?" Adele fumbled in her clutch looking for a cigarette.

"I'm on twelfth street," Peter punched up his car service and placed the call.

"I'm around the corner from there on Strawberry; you wanna split it?" Adele lit a cigarette.

Peter was ordering his car on the phone but he nodded.

The car arrived ten minutes later. While they waited they discussed the details of how Grantham, Walker and Tate would be able to support his lobbying practice.

Peter opened the back door for Adele, once again a gentleman Peter didn't look at the acres of thigh that she couldn't help showing, as she climbed in the back of the limo.

He climbed in after her and was reaching for his seatbelt when Adele pounced on him.

Adele straddled him, her knees either side of his thighs on the bench seat. She smiled down at him and lowered her face to his. They kissed and he pulled her tight against him. He fumbled with the armrest until he found the button that raised the privacy window between the backseat and the driver.

“This is quite a surprise,” Peter smiled at Adele, stroking her cheek.

“This is just you and me. I find you attractive and I want you to fuck me. This is not any form payment for you take up the offer from my law firm,” Adele looked at him seriously.

Peter nodded and kissed her again.

They kissed and cuddled in the back of the car and in the elevator all the way up to Peter’s apartment. He unlocked the door while she clung to him and then her carried through the apartment and laid her on his bed.

Adel lay on the white satin sheets, her arms and legs spread wide. Her tousled brunette hair fanned across the pillows, her blue eyes sparkled, her lipstick was smeared but she looked so sexy. Her dress had ridden up exposing the tops of her stockings and her white nylon panties. She didn’t even kick off her shoes as she lay there looking up at him while he stripped naked.

Peter fell on Adel, his cock poking her in the belly as he they kissed passionately. She pushed him up off her and he straddled her, his cock poking out, leaking precum.

“You want to take that dress off, I’m leaking on it and it’s going to stain,” he smiled down at her.

“You mean this thing is leaking?” Adele began to stroke his cock, looking up at him and smiling.

“Why don’t you do it?” she challenged him.

Peter climbed off Adele and stripped her out of her dress. She lay back down still in her white nylon panties, sheer stockings and white satin bra. Peter put her high heels back on her feet.

“They’re probably going to scratch you when we fuck,” she said lecherously.

“I hope so,” he smiled and lowered himself back on top of her.

They kissed again, very passionately, holding each other tight. Adele felt his cock poking her belly again. Peter rose and eased her breasts out of her brassiere and cupped them.

“The best money can buy. You can hardly see the scars,” she said sarcastically.

“Are you always so flippant?” he gazed down at the beautiful creature lying beneath him.

“There are a couple of sure-fire ways to shut me up,” she smiled up at him seductively.

Peter suckled her nipples and Adele held him to her breasts, she took the opportunity to free her penis from between her legs and lower her testes back into her scrotum. She rolled Peter over so that he was on his back and worked her mouth down his body, licking and nipping his taut flesh until she found his penis.

Adele engulfed it, licking it first, and then gobbling it into her mouth where she slavered at it listening to Peter moan. She was hard too and wanted release; she really wanted to fuck this guy.

Adele inched her way along Pete’s body until her buttocks were rubbing on his genitals, she reached behind herself and positioned his glans in her tight puckered wrinkle and slowly lowered herself, moaning like a slattern. She had pre-lubricated herself before going out in anticipation that something like this just might happen but Peter was very hard and big and long and he stretched Adele’s anus.

She loved it.

She lowered her face to his and they kissed while Adele rode him cowgirl, forcing Peter’s cock so far inside her that it hurt. But the pain was good pain; it intensified the sensuous ripples of delight coming from inside her anus. She wriggled herself so that Pete’s glans pushed on her prostate.

Adele began to leak copious amounts of pre-ejaculated from her throbbing cock and Peter felt it pool on his belly. He cupped the warm slippery fluid in his fingers and stroked Adele’s cock, milking her of even more precum. Adele felt her orgasm building and she threw back her head and moaned. Peter held her waist and rose up to thrust himself inside her as she rocked up and down on his pulsing phallus.

Adele’s sphincter was pulsating; squeezing his cock, bring him close. Adele shrieked with desire and Peter howled too as they clung to each other. Peter filled her with his scalding issue as Adele sprayed her sperm across his belly when they both climaxed. She lowered her face to his, kissing him, smearing her cum on his flesh, driving her tongue into his mouth. Peter held her tight and jackhammered his cock in and out of her at the last of his orgasm wracked his body.

They lay in each other’s arms, sweaty and spent, the air conditioning cooling their bodies.

Finally Adele extracted herself from Peter, his cock fell from her anus with an audible plop and his semen dribbled from her sphincter. Adele wiped it with a corner of the sheet before it stained her stockings.

“Sorry honey, the practicalities of anal sex and I’m afraid and I am not going home barelegged,” Adele shrugged.

“Whose says you’re going home?” Peter grinned at her, his semi-erect cock still standing proud.

“I do honey. If I stay here I’m going to make you fuck me all night and I need the rest,” she began to pull on her panties.

“Can I walk you home?” Peter asked, lying on his elbow, enjoying watching her dress.

“Nice try big guy but I never take men home. I’m sorry to say this is a one night stand. I’m in a relationship with someone I love and I don’t need any entanglements,” Adele zipped her dress closed.

“Well thanks very much Adele. It was an experience I will always treasure,” Peter got off the bed and took her in his arms.

They had one last long, lingering kiss and said goodnight.

*****

The next afternoon Adele and Celia were working on court strategy when they were interrupted by a soft knocking on Adele's office door.

"Well done Adele; you landed Peter Duffy. He signed with us today," Alan Tate was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Adele shivered. She felt a little unclean and she could see the hurt in Celia's eyes.

To be continued.

"I remind the parties that they can settle at any time before a verdict is reached and I recommend that you do. Do both counsellors acknowledge that," Judge Karl Brinkman made one last plea for the parties to settle and he said this in open court so that the jury understood exactly what was going on here.

Adele Edwards and John Murray arose and nodded to the judge.

"I warn the jury now that you are going to see and hear things that will shock you and offend your morals and sensibilities. But the evidence that will be presented in court is submitted to try to prove the facts of the case, it's not provided to offend you or to titillate you. You should listen to and look at the evidence in that light, does it corroborate what the party is trying to prove? Do not let your personal feelings interfere with your duty to make a fair verdict," the judge advised the jury.

"Ms Edwards, you may address the jury," and so the trial began.

Adele and Celia had dressed carefully for their appearance in court, biding the Judge's advice. Celia of course was dressed all in black including her stockings and heels but the hem of her skirt was a modest two inches above her knee. She wore a light charcoal blouse and had economised on her makeup but refused not to wear her signature blood-red lipstick.

Adele was dressed similarly but in blue pinstripes with a white silk blouse.

Melody Summers was dressed, as per instruction, in a twinset with Mary Jane low heels and her hair up in ponytail. Her appearance was deliberately contrived to make her look young and innocent.

"Counsel for the plaintiff will prove the following during the course of this trial. Those four men sitting at the defence table, Daniel Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady and Mitchell Brooks had non-consensual sex with the plaintiff Miss Melody Summers. We will prove that Mitchell Brooks lured Melody Summers to a cocktail party on the evening of May twelfth, 2018; seduced her and then bought in his three friends and let them use her as their plaything. I warn you that this case is going to be sordid, graphic and emotional. There will be claims and counter-claims but all you need to be convinced of is that Melody Summers was forced to have non-consensual sex with these men. Then find for the plaintiff thank you," Adele Edwards finished her opening remarks.

John Murray, the defence's counsellor, arose and strode over to the jury box.

"This case is simple. So simple in fact that the work has already been done for you. Daniel Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady and Mitchell Brooks were all found not guilty in criminal court. This case is simply a matter of greed and revenge. Revenge for being called a liar in court and greed because these men are affluent, and men of considerable standing within the community and with plenty to lose if they are found guilty. This case is simply a case of sour grapes and coercion. Do what your peers in the criminal court did; find my clients not guilty," John strode confidently back to his seat.

Adele knew what the defence's strategy would be. Prove that Melody Summers was a willing participant in a gangbang, not a victim of sexual assault. This strategy had worked well in criminal court where reasonable doubt had to be established to support a guilty verdict. The criterion in a civil trial was such that the weight of proof was lessened. You basically just had to convince the jury to vote one way or the other.

Also the rules of evidence were a little less strict; facts could be implied without substantial corroboration. Adele and Celia's battle plan was to meet the defence's strategy head on; call their bluff so to speak. It was dangerous, but it would take the defence of 'implied consent' off the table.

"Doctor Lee, you have been accepted as an expert witness to the satisfaction of the court I now intend to ask you direct questions," Adele began her trial.

"Doctor Lee, can a woman enjoy being sexually assaulted?" there was a small intake of indignation from the female members of the jury.

"Studies have shown that up to twenty percent of women had a physical response to their assault and that four to five percent of women reported orgasm during the attack," Dr Lee answered clearly and succinctly.

"What do you mean specifically when you mean physical response?" Adele continued, she wanted the jury to hear the specifics and undermine the defence before they got started.

"A woman might produce lubrication, she might become aroused, she might even orgasm as I've stated," Dr Lee replied.

"Men too when being sexually assaulted often display similar responses; erection, pre-ejaculate discharge and finally ejaculation, more so than women in fact," Dr Lee added.

"Thanks for the educational divergence but we will stick to women for now shall we?" Adele didn't want the jury distracted.

"But that doesn't mean the woman is complicit does it?" Adele wanted clarification.

"Liking something or experiencing pleasure is one thing; wanting or desiring is another. Genital arousal is a learned response to certain cues or stimuli and is not necessarily related to consent. In fact because fear activates the sympathetic nervous system, increasing the blood flow through the body, it is possible that it could facilitate genital arousal," the doctor said smugly.

The doctor had a conceited look on his face that Adele did not like; she did not want him to upset the jury so she asked him a yes or no question.

"So Doctor Lee, as an expert if your field, to summarise your testimony. Is it possible for a woman to become aroused and even achieve orgasm while she is being taken sexually against her will?" Adele wanted clarity.

"Yes," the doctor replied.

"No more questions," Adele relinquished the witness.

"Your witness Mr Murray," the judge said.

"Doctor. Have you heard of rape fantasy or rape roleplay?" John Murray raised his brows.

"Of course I have. Some women find that fear, even when just pretending to be scared, or being physically restrained, very sexually stimulating," the doctor replied.

"No more questions," John Murray strode confidently back to his chair.

John Murray had burst the defence's bubble with one question. Adele needed to counterattack.

She rose for her redirect.

"Doctor Lee, just to clarify. No amount of sexual arousal during the act can override the fact that someone may consciously be saying and meaning no, but that their bodies might betray them. Physical pleasure is not evidence of consent correct?" Adele hoped that she was getting her ship back on course.

"Correct," Dr Lee again gave his smug smile.

There was a short recess and it was time for Melody Summers to testify.

Two days after Adele's date with Peter Duffy she had found a plain envelope with no return address on her desk. Inside the envelope was a small note: 'Some men just can't help showing off. I'm sorry that they think this is acceptable '. Adele had a good idea who had dropped off the envelope. Who moved within the same circles as Danny Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady, and Mitchell Brooks? A certain lobbyists perhaps?

The pictures in the envelope were very contentious and inflammatory. They certainly looked like Melody Summers was being forced to have sex with the defendants but John Murray had pictures that proposed the opposite. She and Celia had thought long and hard about whether to introduce the pictures into evidence.

"Please tell the court the events that occurred on the evening of May twelfth, 2018," Adele decided to let Melody just tell her story rather than ask her a series of questions.

"I received an invitation to attend a cocktail party at the Beaumont Hotel. The invitation was anonymous, that is, it was unsigned. This is not unusual for me because of my work in marketing; I often get invited to events by the organisers as a means of free publicity," Melody began.

Then she told her story…

*****

Melody was looking around the large function room to see if there might be someone interesting to talk to. All the men appeared to be overweight, middle-aged and married. Not that being married had stopped a few of them from hitting on her. The cocktail party was a busted flush.

When she'd arrived she'd presented her invitation at the door and had expected her name to be the event organiser's list but it wasn't. Hers was a private invitation but the person who had purchased the ticket remained anonymous.

She wore her low-cut red satin sheath, split to the waist on one side, red 'fuck-me pumps' her evening makeup with red lipstick and nailpolish, gold accessories and was sans panties. The sheath required her to wear tan sheer-to-the-waist-pantyhose and a strapless bra; anything else would ruin the lines of the dress.

"Melody Summers? Really?" Mitchell Brooks bent down to read her nametag.

He made no secret of the fact that he was also looking at her breasts

"It sounds like porn actress' name," he smiled.

He was a very handsome man. A college jock, he had maintained his fitness and was slim, tall and fitted into his tuxedo perfectly.

"That's very forward of you sir," Melody smiled at him seductively.

"No. That's me being comedic; this is me being forward," Mitchell slid his hand across her buttocks and squeezed.

"I say sir; that is forward!" she pretended to be indignant but Mitchell saw the amusement in her eyes.

"Wanna get away from these old fogies and have some fun?" he pulled her close to him.

"Why the fuck not; this party is dead," Melody smiled up at him.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Mitchell took her hand in his and led her through the crowd, grabbing a bottle of champagne and two glasses off a passing waiter.

He led her upstairs to a large reception room, checked it was empty and then pulled her inside and locked the door.

"Is this better?" Mitchell smiled at Melody.

"Much," she smiled back at him.

He poured two glasses of champagne, which they both polished off quickly.

He reached into his inside pocket and produced a small silver cigarette case, opened it and produced a spliff.

He held it up and looked at her questioningly.

"You can't smoke that here," Melody was a little shocked.

"Fuck I can't. I contributed a shitload of money for this reception, all of which I'll get back in tax credits of course, but I'm still the biggest benefactor," Mitchell lit the joint, took a deep drag and held the smoke a while before exhaling.

He passed her the spliff.

"What the fuck is this benefit even for? Equal rights for gay whales? Save the lesser-crested big-balled penguin?" he took the joint back off Melody.

Melody laughed and blew out a plume of smoke.

They finished the joint, making small talk and then Mitchell led her to a chaise lounge where they went back to drinking champagne.

When Mitchell leaned in to kiss her, all of her inhibitions had been lost.

She kissed him back, driving her tongue into his mouth. Mitchell pawed at her breasts, trying to extract them from the tight sheath.

"Honey we can have as much fun as you like but don't ruin this dress," she giggled.

Mitchell eventually freed her firm, nicely formed breasts from the gown and lapped at them, holding them so he could suck on her nipples. Pleasure radiated from her sensitive berries and she sighed and held him to her breasts.

Mitchell took her hand and directed it to his groin and she struggled to open his flies.

"Fuck this!" Mitchell stood up and quickly undressed, tossing his clothes onto the floor.

"Do you want me to undress too," melody was feeling lightheaded.

"No. I want to fuck you in that dress," Mitchell growled.

His substantial erection was standing proud.

"But first I want you to suck my cock," Mitchell pulled her up off the lounge and the roughly pushed her down on her knees.

Melody actually liked being dominated by the handsome powerful man. It turned her on.

She turned her attention to Mitchell's cock and slowly stroked it, running her nails under the bulbous head and then fondling his scrotum while she caressed his long thick shaft. She traced the veins with her fingertips.

Mitchell put his hands on her head and directed her face to his groin and she opened her mouth and took the cock between her lips. She used her tongue on it and then began to suck it in earnest. The dope and the booze had taken affect and loosened her inhibitions.

Mitchell let her fellate him until he was ready and then he lifted her to her feet and kissed her again.

"Watch the dress," she said, her words muffled by their kiss.

"What; this dress?" Mitchell pushed her back and she fell on the lounge; arms and legs akimbo.

He hiked up her dress, bunching it around her waist and then he lowered his face to her groin. She was wet already; he could see her secretions glistening in the fabric of her sheer pantyhose crotch. He lapped at the nectar and licked her cunt through the gossamer material. Then he tried to pull them down.

"I've got a spare pair in my clutch," Melody gasped and used one of her long fingernails to open the seam of her pantyhose.

Mitchell poked his tongue through the hole and lapped at her labia, then found her clitoris and worked it with his tongue.

Melody gasped and held his mouth there, rising up off the lounge to thrust her sodden cunt into his face.

When Melody was moaning with desire and twisting her fingers in his hair, he knew she was ready. Mitchell replaced his face with his cock, kneeling between her legs and thrusting his cock into her all the way. Melody wrapped her legs and arms around him and hung on while he fucked her vigorously.

Mitchell came quickly inside her and she felt him ejaculate and an earth-shattering orgasm wracked her, she drummed her heels on his back as she orgasmed. She came so hard that she nearly passed out, she was dazed and confused.

When she came too there were three other men in the room. Mitchell Brooks was still inside her, slowly fucking her as she lay on the couch with her legs wide apart. One of the men had his phone out and was filming them. They were all naked and sporting erections.

"I'd like you to meet my friends. We're all going to have a little fun ok?" Mitchell smiled down at her.

The three men approached the lounge, two positioned themselves on one side of her and one on the other, Mitchell was still fucking her slowly and her cunt was tingling, she was far from another orgasm but it felt delightful all the same.

She took two of the cocks in her hands and one in her mouth.

Melody Summers left the reception room three hours later her hair dishevelled, her makeup ruined, her expensive dress ripped down one side and her pantyhose full of runners. She made her way to ladies room to tidy herself up, fix her makeup and change into fresh pantyhose. She used some toilet paper to wipe away the semen dripping from her vagina and her anus.

*****

Melody told the court an edited version of what really happened. She admitted that she had had consensual sex with Mitchell Brooks initially but then his friends had showed up and she was forced to submit to all kinds of debauchery.

"Miss Summers, as you know I now intend to show a series of pictures to the court that are very explicit but I need for you to describe to the court exactly what is happening in each picture," Adele said.

Celia had rehearsed this part of her testimony many times with Melody, hopefully she would hold up.

"Please bring up plaintiff exhibits one through four and provide hard copies to jury," Adele asked one of the bailiffs.

Two, sixty-inch flat-screen monitors lit up, and the first image appeared.

There was an audible gasp around the courtroom.

Melody swallowed and following the direction she had been given began to speak.

"That's Mr Grady forcing me to fellate Mr Stetford," Melody said dry-mouthed.

Melody was on her knees and Peter Grady was behind her, holding one of her arms behind her back and pushing Melody's head onto Brian Stetford's erection. The men were naked; Melody was still dressed in her evening gown.

"That’s Mr Benstead forcing himself on me," she said softly.

Melody was on her hands and knees, fully-clothed, her dress hiked up and Danny Benstead was taking her doggy-style, holding onto her hair, pulling her head back, her face contorted.

"And that's me being forced to service three of the men," Melody was starting to fade under the pressure of giving her testimony.

There were only a few images left to show and Melody bravely endured them all, providing a narrative to what the jury was seeing.

"And in any of these pictures are you consenting to the acts being photographed?" Adele asked.

"No," Melody replied simply.

"And did you know that these pictures were being taken?" Adele was close to ending Melody's testimony.

"Yes. I saw the men using their phones to take pictures. At the end of the night they told me that if I complained about what had happened they would release the pictures online and send them to my friends and family," Melody began to sob.

"Nothing further you honour," Adele was pleased with Melody's testimony.

She believed that she had made her case and that Melody had made a very convincing witness.

The judge adjourned the court for the day.

*****

The next day it was John Murray's turn to cross-examine Melody Summers. Adele and Celia hoped that she would hold up under what would be a withering cross.

“Miss Summers, you claim that in the series of pictures presented by the plaintiff's counsel that you were being forced to participate in sexual acts against your will?” John Murray began.

“That’s right,” Melody leaned forward to speak into the microphone.

“These pictures here,” John bought the series of shots up on the screens using a clicker.

“Objection you honour; inflammatory, the court has already seen this evidence,” Adele rose to her feet but before she could continue John Murray interjected.

“Your honour, the plaintiff introduced the pictures into evidence,” John gave Adele a sleazy smile.

“Overruled,” Judge Brinkman waved his hand at Adele dismissively.

“And were these pictures also taken the same evening you allege the assault occurred,” John pressed his clicker again.

A series of images appeared on the large screens facing the court which appeared to show Melody Summers in various stages of undress but never quite naked having sex with the defendants. The difference being that in these pictures her face was displaying what looked like extreme pleasure.

At disclosure Adele had the chance to have the photographs ruled inadmissible but she had not done so. The judge had ruled that the photos could be bought into evidence and Adele had asked for a stipend that allowed her to introduce her own photos into evidence.

Adele knew that to object further would bring these facts to the jury so she refrained.

Melody bowed her head.

Hard copies of the pictures were given to the jury to pass around.

“Miss Summers?” John Murray insisted.

Melody nodded.

“For the record please,” he insisted.

“Yes,” Melody whispered.

“Miss Summers; remember you are under oath and subject to perjury should you lie. Do these pictures not show you enjoying having sex with the four defendants? Are you not experiencing pleasure?” John Murray waved at one of the screens.

“It’s not like that! Mitch… Mr Brooks was using his mouth… er performing cunnilingus on me while I was being held down. I can’t just switch my physical responses on and off,” Melody replied tersely.

“Yes or no? Did you receive sexual gratification during your so-called ordeal?” John Murray grilled her.

“Objection you honour. It has been stipulated by an expert witness that it is possible for a woman or a man to experience sexual gratification even if the act is against their will,” Adele stated.

“Overruled,” Judge Brinkman replied just as Adele had expected he would.

She nodded at Melody, directing her client to answer.

“Yes,” Melody replied indignantly.

“Okay. Let’s move on,” John Murray claimed his little victory and used his clicker to blank the screens.

“Do you recognise this person?” John Murray pressed his clicker again.

An online advertisement appeared on the screen.

‘Executive Encounters. Exclusive, discreet, and select services for busy discerning professionals’

Was the banner across the top of the webpage.

A picture of Melody Summers smiling through bright-red lipsticked lips, lying on black satin bed-linen wearing heavy makeup, a red basque trimmed with black lace, black stockings and high heels, was underneath the banner.

‘Michelle is one of our beautiful young professional ladies who will cater to your every whim. She’s a classy lady with an appetite for the exotic.’ Was the text written below her photograph.

“Is that you? Are you the ‘Michelle’ in the picture?” John smiled at Melody like a crocodile.

Adele flew to her feet.

“Objection your honour, none of this was presented during discovery,” Adele pleaded.

“Your honour really? If the plaintiff’s client doesn’t disclose her employment either past or present to her lawyer, is it really up to the defendants counsel to do so?” John Murray said smugly.

“Yeah I know; overruled,” Adele exhaled loudly and sat down.

“You are sailing close to contempt of court Ms Edwards,” the Judge warned Adele.

“Overruled,” he made his decision as expected.

“Is that you? Are you the ‘Michelle’ in the picture?” John asked Melody again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Louder, for the record please,” the Judge said.

“Yes,” Melody said.

There was a murmur from the gallery.

“Your honour. May I request a short recess so that I may prepare for this unexpected evidence?” Adele’s voice was very respectful.

The judge looked at his watch. It was eleven thirty.

“The court will recess for lunch and proceedings will continue at one o’clock this afternoon,” the Judge rapped his gavel.

*****

“So you never thought to tell us that you were a hooker?” Adele paced the floor of the small conference room.

“I’m not a hooker; I’m a callgirl and so what? What has that got to do with anything?” Melody snapped back.

“Oh nothing honey. Everyone feels sorry for the sad little streetwalker, forced to sell her body to survive. But not everyone loves 'Michelle' who works for Executive Encounters and earns twelve hundred dollars every time she blows a suit!” Adele replied sarcastically.

“Hey, hey, hey! We’re on the same team here! Let’s settle down and formulate a strategy to deal with this mess,” Celia Bettany kept a cool head.

Adele was still pacing up and down. Then she stopped and sat down next to Melody; Adele took her hand.

“You’re right and I’m sorry. I’m going to have to try to diffuse this on redirect,” she said calmly.

“There’s something else,” Melody blushed and looked down at her feet.

*****
“Your honour. After interviewing my client during the adjournment, the plaintiff’s counsel will stipulate that my client did in fact work for the agency known as Executive Encounters and was paid for her sexual services. This changes nothing regarding the accusations levied at the defendants,” Adele read a prepared statement.

“Very well Ms Edwards, but we will let the jury decide what evidence is pertinent to their deliberations, not you,” the Judge admonished Adele but she had saved her client the indignity of answering a string of questions regarding her employment as a call girl.

“Thank you your honour,” Adele took her small victory and sat waiting for the axe to fall.

“So Ms Summers, having stipulated that you worked for Executive Encounters as a callgirl, did you ever meet any of my clients in that capacity before the evening you claimed you were assaulted?” John Murray was looking forward to the next line of questioning.

Adele knew what was coming; Melody had admitted to Adele and Celia just exactly what was currently being asked of her. Adele had told Melody to tell the truth and hold back nothing; Adele would do her best on redirect.

“Yes, Mitch… Mr Brooks had used my services twice before,” Melody said emotionlessly.

“And did you enjoy these encounters with Mr Brooks?” John heard Adele’s chair scrape as she rose to object.

“Withdrawn your honour,” he’d made his point.

“And where you working for Executive Encounters the night of the cocktail party?” John asked, driving home his advantage.

“No. As I already said, I received an invitation to the party,” Melody replied curtly.

“An anonymous invitation?” John raised his brows.

“An anonymous invitation to a party where you met up with a previous client who took you into a room to share your favours with his friends against your will?” John Murray smiled smugly.

“Objection. The counsellor is testifying,” Adele scored a minor point when her objection was sustained.

“One final question Ms Summers. Do you know this gentleman?” John pressed the clicker.

The Executive Encounters banner remained on the screen but the picture changed.

The image of a shirtless handsome and tanned and muscular young man wearing a Stetson, jeans and cowboy boots appeared on the screen. He was smiling at the camera looking confident and virile.

The caption read: ‘Roy swings both ways and is extremely talented whether riding or being ridden. Available for both men and women, ask for Roy if you want some good ole’ Texas hospitality.’

“Do you know this man?” John asked.

“No. Why should I?” Melody looked puzzled.

“It’s just that he works for the same agency. Never mind; question withdrawn,” John glared at Adele as he strode confidently back to the defence table.

Adele baulked. Where had John Murray got his information?

“Who is that guy?” Celia asked Adele?

“I don’t know. Why should I?” Adele hissed.

“I know when you’re lying to me Adele, you know that,” Celia patted Adele’s leg tenderly under the table.

Adele blushed.

“It’s a long story and not for today ok?” Adele smiled wanly at Celia who smiled back and nodded.

“Redirect your honour?” Adele got to her feet.

“You’ve told the court what happened to you in that room on the night of the cocktail party. Do you wish to recant or change any of your testimony given the cross examination by the defence?” Adele asked confidently.

“Not a thing,” Melody Summers replied just as confidently.

“What about the evidence that you knew one of the defendants in your capacity as high class call girl?” Adele opened the door for Melody to explain.

“Mitchell Brooks was nice to me both times I met him professionally. To some extent her was even nice to me for a little while on the night I was assaulted but he still did what he did,” Melody blushed.

“But he still assaulted you?” Adele wanted Melody to confirm her previous testimony.

“Yes they all did. I asked them to stop and they didn’t, I might have been forced to experience pleasure during some of it, but it was what it was,” Melody began to cry.

To be continued

Peter Duffy knocked gently on the door to Adele’s office. It was nearly midnight and the law office was devoid of staff. Celia was at her monthly dinner date with her mother, a chore she hated but tolerated. It meant staying overnight or driving for three hours to get back home and as Celia required at least two cocktails before dinner and a half-bottle of Shiraz with dinner just to get through the ordeal, driving home was out of the question. Adele had received a memo from the Partners directing her to pursue a settlement or drop the case. She intended to do neither but she couldn't say so, so she was drafting a response to them full of legalise mumbo-jumbo to buy more time. The case wouldn't run for more than three more days.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Peter leaned through the door and smiled at Adele.

She was once again struck by how stunningly handsome he was. His suit jacket was casually thrown over his shoulder, he had removed his tie.

Adele didn’t know this because she was too engrossed in her work, but Peter had been standing at her open door watching her for a while. He smiled when she raked her fingers through her tousled brunette hair or chewed on the end of her pen, her full red lips worrying the implement. At one stage she thrust out a long, diaphanous nyloned leg from under her desk and rubbed the back of her knee, her red fingernails rasping softly on her stockings.

Just watching her made him hard.

“I could say the same for you. What brings you here so late in the day?” Adele looked up at him from behind her desk.

“I had a business meeting with Alan Tate that just kept running on. Boring stuff really. Nothing like the case you are trying,” Peter smiled at her.

Adele did not invite him into her office and Peter was too much of a gentleman to enter without invitation.

“Alan has just left the building and I needed to use the facilities before I left. I saw light coming from your office so I thought I’d come over and say hello,” Peter’s smile was engaging.

“So you left Alan’s office needing a piss and instead of using the Partner’s pisser right across the hall from Alan’s office, you worked your way through all of the junior Associates and paralegals desks to use the crapper farthest from the elevators where I assume you are heading next?” Adele chewed the end of her pen and Peter couldn’t take his eyes off her lips.

“Ok I lied. I asked Alan if you were still working and he told me where your office was. Are we always going to be combative now that I’ve signed up to your firm?” Peter was still smiling.

Adele’s face filled with storm clouds and Peter suddenly realised what he had unintentionally implied.

“So you’re saying that I threw you a fuck so would take bring your business here and now I don’t want anything to do with you?” Adele pushed herself out from behind her desk and stood.

“I’m implying no such thing. That came out all wrong and I apologise,” Peter’s confidence was gone, his shoulders slouched.

Adele stood defiantly with her hands on her hips. She was wearing a dark mauve business suit, her jacket was open and her breasts pushed against her white silk blouse, the bottom of her jacket was level with the hem of her short skirt. Her long legs, planted defiantly apart, were sheathed in coffee-coloured gossamer nylon, and her feet were shod in black four-inch heeled Louboutin's.

Her suit was wrinkled from a long day’s work, she had a runner in one of her stockings, her makeup was smudged where she had rubbed her eyes and her red lipstick was smeared. Even looking dishevelled as she did with her unkempt hair she looked gorgeous, her dishevelled appearance somehow making her look even sexier than usual.

“I told you when we fucked that it was going to be a one night stand so why are you here?” Adele glared at him.

“Ok I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you again. I think that you’re an amazing person and I enjoyed your company so much at dinner I was hoping we could maybe do it again,” Peter sighed.

Adele smiled. She liked it when she made powerful men be contrite with her.

“And the after dinner part?” Adele raised her eyebrows, a little amused.

“Well that was wonderful too but I know it’s never going to happen again,” Peter replied.

Adele relaxed and leaned back against her desk and rubbed her aching neck.

“Sorry for being a bitch; I seem to make that a habit with you. Come in and have a drink before we go home,” Adele pointed the small wet bar in the corner of her office.

Peter grinned and entered the office; he hung his coat on the rack by the door. Adele realised the connotation that could be read into what she just said.

“I meant when we both go home to our own apartments, alone,” she grinned back at him.

“Scotch, rocks, please,” she said when he looked at her quizzically.

Adele sat down on the small couch and took off her high heels, her feet were numb from wearing them all day but she had been sitting for so long that she didn’t realise how numb until she stood up.

Peter put the drinks on the coffee table and sat down beside her.

“May I?” Peter asked, smiling at her as he lifted her feet into his lap.

Adele was going to admonish him but then he began to massage her feet and all was forgiven. It felt wonderful. She lay back with her head on the armrest and sighed.

“Gimme,” Adele held out her hand and wiggled her fingers like a petulant child.

Peter teased her little, holding the drink out of reach as she went to grasp it. Adele pouted like a little girl. Peter liked this playful side to her; he relented and gave Adele her drink.

“Now you can go back to rubbing my feet,” Adele grinned at him.

“They’re smelly,” Peter joked.

“Bullshit! I’ve had men beg to suck my feet after a full day’s work. I have one particular man who loves my feet so much that he takes my pantyhose with him when he leaves,” Adele waggled her toes.

“What man? Is he the one you are in long term relationship with? The man that you love?” Peter sounded jealous.

“Let’s just say it’s complicated and leave it at that. Now… you can keep massaging my feet as payment for my scotch and my company,” Adele wiggled her feet in Peter’s lap.

She could feel the hard lump of his erection and moved her feet down on his thigh away from it.

Peter worked his fingers into Adele’s toes, delighting in the feel of her slippery nylons against his fingers. Adele sighed and sipped her scotch. Lying back on the couch with her head on the armrest, her skirt rode up high on her legs and Peter had an interrupted view of her firm thighs and the red satin panties that she wore over her pantyhose.

He moved his fingers to Adele’s ankles and she didn’t complain so he worked on those for a while, watching the little wrinkles he made in her coffee-coloured nylons as he massaged her. Adele finished her scotch and put the glass down on the floor and closed her eyes.

“Mmm, that’s wonderful,” she mewed, her voice thick with sleep.

Peter continued to look up her skirt, his cock throbbing in his pants. He tried his luck and moved to her calves, stroking them softly at first and then kneading them with his long fingers. He kept this up until he thought Adele was asleep, her breathing was soft and slow. He caressed the skin on the back of her knees, once again fascinated by the little crinkles that he created in her stockings as he rubbed her smooth flesh. His cock was uncomfortably hard and he really wanted to reposition it but he didn’t want to remove his hands from Adele’s legs.

When his hands slid up her thighs he expected her to rebuke him but she just murmured something unintelligible. He stroked her thighs, working his hands slowly up her legs, following the runner in her stocking.

He was surprised when Adele put her feet back in his lap. A smile formed on her face as she rubbed her toes on his erect penis through the fabric of his trousers.

“I thought…” he began to speak but Adele silenced him.

“Shush! Let’s just enjoy the quiet intimacy of the moment shall we?” Adele whispered.

Peter smiled and continued to worship Adele’s legs with his hands. Her skirt had ridden right up to her waist and he could see the darker fabric of the pantyhose gusset under her red satin panties, he drew in a breath and slid his finger across the front of her panties.

“Mmm,” Adele moaned.

Emboldened, he lifted her feet briefly and freed his cock from his pants. Adele put her stocking-sheathed feet around his penis and squeezed.

It was Peter’s turn to moan.

Adele moved Peter’s hand away from her crotch and snaked a hand inside the waistband of her pantyhose. She untucked herself and Peter was amazed when the smooth V of her panties suddenly developed a bulge as her scrotum swelled with her testes and her penis appeared from its hiding place along her perineum. She took away her hand and the glans of her semi-erect cock peeked above the waistband of her panties, a little wet stain burgeoned in her pantyhose as she started to leak.

Peter was fascinated and he placed a fingertip in the splotch of clear pre-ejaculated and rubbed her fraenulum with the pad of his finger through the translucent nylon.

Adele shuddered and then she slowly began to wank his cock with her stockinged feet. Peter purred; he eased down Adele’s panties so he could see the girth of her long thick cock swaddled in the dark pantyhose. He gripped her shaft and began to reciprocate the pleasure she was giving him. More precum dribbled from the eye of her penis as he slowly but firmly stroked her nylon-swathed cock.

Adele pressed her heels and toes together, making a tight silken channel to encase Peter’s cock. She worked her feet up and down and she smiled when she felt her nylons dampen with his pre-seminal fluid. They were both leaking.

The quiet office filled with the muffled sounds of their lust-filled moans and groans as Peter and Adele masturbated each other through the diaphanous shrouds of her nylons. Electric sparks of deliciousness emanated from their respective throbbing members.

Adele turned her face to the padded armrest and muffled her cries as she orgasmed. A puddle of creamy sperm erupted through the gusset of her pantyhose as she writhed and wriggled on the couch. The sight of this triggered Peter’s climax and Adele felt his scalding seed splash onto her feet and legs. Peter bit his lip to stifle his moans as Adele’s silken-sheathed feet expressed more of his issue which spewed from his manhood in a series of long ropy spurts.

They massaged each other’s cocks until their cocks began to droop and the rubbing become abrasive.

“There are tissues in my handbag. Do not get any semen on this suit!” Adele said authoritatively.

Peter felt quite the twit as he took Adele’s feet and laid them on the couch and duck waddled with his cock sticking out of his pants to get her handbag off the desk. He rummaged in her bag and found the tissues and dabbed at his cock before putting it away. Then he sat beside her and swabbed at the thick pool of semen that had formed in her pantyhose gusset, then he took more tissues and daubed at the sticky mess he had made on her feet and legs.

“Thank you. You are gentleman,” she chuckled as she arched her back and pulled off her panties and then her pantyhose.

She took more tissues and wiped herself dry.

“Not very ladylike I’m afraid,” she said dryly as she went to her desk drawer for a new package of pantyhose.

“Be a sweetheart and pour me another drink,” Adele kissed Peter on the cheek.

Adele had no inhibitions as she dropped her skirt, stepped into a pair of flesh-toned pantyhose and tucked herself. She smoothed out the nylons along her legs, stopped to take a sip of her drink and then stepped into her panties. She put on her skirt and adjusted it.

Peter had gathered together all the sticky tissues and was looking around for somewhere to dispose of them.

“Take them down to the bathroom and flush them please. Take these too. You can bin them or keep them. Some men seem to like collecting them for some reason,” she handed him her cum-soaked pantyhose and her blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

When Peter came back Adele had packed up and was standing by her office door ready to leave. She had her handbag over her shoulder; a file in one hand and his coat in the other.

“Give me a couple of minutes and then take the next elevator. I know it’s after midnight but I don’t want anyone seeing us leaving together and that includes the security guys,” Adele said, handing him his jacket.

“Can I see you again?” Peter called out as she started to walk away.

“Not like this,” she said over her shoulder.

“That’s what you said last time,” Peter called after her, appreciating the swing of her hips and the swagger of her buttocks.

“Thank you for the pictures. They came in real handy at the trial today,” she called out and kept walking.

*****

The twenty-four hour news cycle fed on stories like the Melody Summers case. Was she a pretty young girl who was forced into prostitution or was she a scheming witch trying to take four innocent men for a substantial sum of money?

Her picture appeared everywhere; there were rumours that ten thousand dollars had been offered for any of the pictures that had been shown in court. Television news shows held debates, phone-ins and online polls: 'was Melody Summers telling the truth?'

Adele and Celia wore satin negligees to breakfast and nothing else; Celia's was black of course. They had both failed to remove their makeup before they went to bed and they poked fun at each other about panda-eyes.

Adele was reading a newspaper chewing on toast while Celia sipped coffee and concentrated on her tablet.

Adele poked Celia with her toe under the table.

"What do you think? Is conventional wisdom for us or against us?" she asked around a mouthful of bread.

"I think that ladies who talk with their mouths full have bad manners," Celia looked up from her tablet reproachfully.

"You didn't say that last night," Adele smiled at her.

Celia poked Adele back with her toe and gave her a reproachful frown.

"Seriously, what do you think?" Adele finished her toast and reached for coffee.

"I think we are about fifty-fifty in the court of public opinion which is better than expected given that our sweet little darling turned out to be a high class hooker," Celia replied.

"And Millicent Ford, the forewoman of the jury; she looked like she wanted to get out of her chair and give Melody a good spanking when it was revealed that Melody was a prostitute," Celia sighed.

"Yeah well… have we ever had a client who hasn’t lied to us?" Adele got up and padded around to Celia's side of the table and rubbed her shoulders.

Celia laid her head on Adele's hand.

"You can stop doing that in about an hour," she purred.

"Sorry honey, we need to get ready for court. It's John Murray's big day," Adele leaned down and kissed Celia's cheek.

Adele and Celia had fired their guns and rested their case. It was John Murray's turn to offer a defence.

Surprisingly he called Mitchell Brooks to the stand. Defendants rarely took the stand in criminal trials but they often did in civil litigation, but given that it meant that Mitchell Brooks would be exposed to a cross-examination she found it surprising. Adele was caught unprepared. She and Celia opened fresh legal pads and began to write.

"Are you Mitchell Brooks, currently CEO of the company known as the Dalton Corporation a subsidiary of Brindle Holdings?" John Murray began his defence.

Mitchell confirmed such.

"Did Miss Melody Summers tell the court the truth about the events that occurred at the cocktail party at the Beaumont Hotel on the evening of May twelfth, 2018?" John got straight to the point.

"Not much of her story is true. The four of us had sex with her that's for sure. She liked it and so she should have. Brian, Peter, Danny and I pitched in one thousand dollars each for her services," Mitchell glanced across at the plaintiff's table.

"He's lying!" Melody hissed.

Celia squeezed her hand.

"We'll get to cross examine him soon enough, just sit still and keep your head high, don't show any emotion," Celia whispered in melody's ear.

"You paid Miss Summers four thousand dollars to have sex with the four of you?" John leaned in towards his client.

"Cash on the barrel. She did me first on my own because I wanted it that way and she was sweet on me, then the other guys joined in," Mitchell explained.

"And she was a willing participant?" John asked.

"She loved it; I tipped her five hundred dollars before she left because we ripped her dress," Mitchell folded his arms.

"So why do you think she has made these accusations?" John was on a roll.

"Objection your honour; calls for speculation," Adele was quick to get to her feet.

"In criminal court yes, but this is a civil a matter. I'll allow the question," the judge answered.

"Well the first thing I thought of was money of course; she wants a settlement. But I also think that doing the group-sex thing turns some women on but then they feel guilty afterwards. We've hired many girls to do this kind a thing in the past and a few of them have tried to squeeze us after," Mitchell replied.

"It's like they want revenge to make themselves feel better for something they are ashamed of doing," Mitchell looked at Adele and sneered.

"So to clarify; your testimony is that you hired Miss Summers, paid for her services and now she is trying to extort money from you and the other three defendants?" John Murray summarised Mitchell's testimony.

"No more questions," John walked back to his table.

Adele was on her feet lightning quick.

"So you and your friends didn't hold Melody Summers down and force yourself on her like we have seen in the pictures presented to the court?" Adele began.

"Sure we did. She liked it. She wanted it," Mitchell sniggered.

"You're telling me that a woman likes to be forced to have sex with a group of men?" Adele asked trying to drive home her point.

"Some do. You sure did. Remember in college you moaned like a whore when I fucked you," Mitchell Brooks said viciously.

Adele just stood there stunned.

"Objection! Objection!" Celia was screaming at the judge.

Once again the court erupted and the judge rapped his gavel repeatedly until the court came to order.

"Counsel. Chambers. Now!" the judge adjourned the court and stormed angrily from the bench.

"What the fuck is going on in my court? Did you coach your client to say what he did about Ms Edwards?" the judge was red-faced.

"No your honour. I had no idea that Ms Edwards and my clients had a previous relationship," John Murray tried to lie some of the blame on Adele.

"I would hardly call being forced to have sex with four strangers my fault. It just so happens that they also happen to be the same men who assaulted Melody Summers," Adele fired back.

Celia winced. Adele should have kept her mouth shut; made John Murray defend his clients actions, not confirm that what Mitchell Brooks said was the truth.

"Are you claiming that the four defendants attacked you when you were in college?" the judge was incredulous.

"I'm going out into the courtroom and declaring a mistrial," the judge slammed the palm of his hand down on the table.

"What for?" Adele barked at him.

"What for? Because the lead counsel for the plaintiff has been accused of using her client to get revenge for an incident that she claims happened nearly sixteen years ago in college; that's what for," the judge yelled back at her.

"What if I was prepared to take the stand?" Adele said meekly.

"What?" the judge was dumbfounded.

"Not a chance. Too prejudicial and I've never heard of such a thing," the judge growled.

"There is precedence your honour. I can file a motion for you today," Adele countered.

"No way. I'm dismissing the case, your associate can re-file it with the court Ms Edwards, but you are no longer trying this case," The judge arose, ready to leave chambers.

"Hey wait on judge," John Murray had been thinking.

"You're going to make my clients go through all of this again? That will be the third time that they will be tried for something they claim they are innocent of. If Ms Edwards is willing to relinquish the trail to Ms Bettany and recuse herself from representing Miss Summers I'd like the trail to proceed. I think I've got this case won already," John Murray proposed.

"I'll do it!" Adele snapped back.

"Hold on you two; I'm the decision maker here," the Judge rubbed his chin.

"Ms Bettany; are you prepared to take over from Ms Edwards? Can you offer your client fair and reasonable counsel?" the judge asked Celia.

"I can your honour. Ms Edwards and I have worked on this case together day and night," Celia said a little too enthusiastically.

"I bet you have," John Murray gave them both a lecherous look.

The remark flew over the judge's head.

"Ms Edwards, you are recused from counsel. Ms Bettany, you are no longer second chair; welcome to the big leagues," the judge heaved himself out of his chair and ushered everyone out of his chambers.

The judge bought the court to order and explained that Adele Edwards had been recused from representing Melody Summers.

"Miss Summers; are you prepared to continue your suit whilst being represented by Miss Bettany?" the judge asked.

"I am your honour; I have faith in her," Melody replied.

Adele was sitting in the court behind the plaintiff's table and was on the receiving end of a reproachful glare from Millicent Ford.

"The court is adjourned until nine o'clock tomorrow to allow Miss Bettany to prepare and for all of us to regroup," the judge rapped his gavel.

*****

"The defence may continue," the judge rapped his gavel when court began the next day.

"The defence calls Adele Edwards to the stand," John Murray swivelled in his seat and glared at Adele.

"Objection your honour. Ms Edwards is no longer party to these proceedings," Celia glared back at John Edwards.

"On the contrary your honour. Adele Edwards is a material witness to what these men claim is just fun, what they call, I beg the court's pardon, a gangbang. Let's hear about her experience and she can either corroborate or rebut Miss Summers’ experiences," John Murray challenged.

Adele was up and through the gate heading for the witness chair before the judge even ruled.

"Well it looks like Miss Edwards has no personal objection so let's see where this leads us," the Judge sat back in his chair.

“Please state your full name for the record,” John Murray began.

“Adele Edwards,” Adele replied.

“Has your name always been Adele?” John asked.

Celia Bettany was on her feet lightning-fast to object.

“Withdrawn. Ms Edwards what gender are you?" John gave Adele a steely glare.

"Objection your honour; relevance?" Celia was on her feet.

Judge Karl Brinkman knew that Adele was transgender as did some in the gallery but her celebrity had faded over the years so it was not that well known generally. There was almost certain to be members of the jury that did not know that she was transgender and who were likely to be prejudiced.

"I'll allow it but get to the point quickly counsellor," Judge Brinkman barked.

"I'm a woman. Female. It says so on my driver's licence and on my passport," Adele held her head up high.

"And on your birth certificate?" John Murray was getting to the point he wanted to make.

"Withdrawn. On the birth certificate issued when you were born?" he grinned at Adele.

"Perhaps it will help the court and the counsellor if I get directly to where Mr Murray would like to take us. I was born a male but was gender dysphoric during my childhood and teens. I began my legal transition to become a woman in 2003 and legally became a woman in 2005," Adele looked directly at the jury.

"But your case is somewhat unique is it not? You are one of very few transgendered women who have been legally accepted as a woman without have proof of irreversible sex change surgery?" John raised his brow.

Celia Bettany was immediately on her feet.

"I'll get to relevance in my next question your honour," John did not allow Celia to object.

"So you were still a boy, well a young man actually, when these pictures were taken of you in your first year at college?" John used his clicker.

Adele was sitting on the bed in her dormitory dressed in a leather miniskirt, white satin blouse, sheer taupe pantyhose, and black high heels. She was wearing heavy makeup, a platinum-blonde shoulder-length wig and cheap costume jewellery.

Adele shuddered as she remembered the four men entering her room. This would have been the first of many pictures that they took that night. She was prepared for this line of questioning as much as she could be.

"Yes. As I said I was gender dysphoric and at that time dressing as a woman was comforting, it made me feel like who I really wanted to be," Adele answered.

The bailiff was passing stills of the images being displayed on the screens to jury. The audience in the courthouse was leaning forward to gawk at the screens.

"And here. Did you find this comforting," John grinned.

Adele was in the arms of Mitchell brooks and he was kissing her. In the picture, it looked like she was reciprocating. In addition, this, and this, and this…" John Murray shuffled through a series of images depicting Adele having sex with the four men.

"That's a fine selection counsellor. All those pictures are carefully selected by you to make it look like I was a willing participant," Adele replied.

"So you claim you were unwilling?" John smiled at her.

"I was passive. I didn't want to get hurt so I did what they made me do," Adele countered.

"Made you do? What about these," John showed a selection of pictures that clearly showed Adele had an erection.

"Counsellor, the plaintiff's expert witness has stipulated…" Celia was cut off by John Murray.

"That it is possible for a woman or a man to experience sexual gratification even if the act is against their consent," he completed her answer for her.

"So you do know my clients Daniel Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady, and Mitchell Brooks and you knew them in college, before you became a lawyer. Yes or no answers to my next few questions if you will Ms Edwards," John Murray was on a roll.

"Yes," Adele replied.

"You had sex with them in your dormitory at college, allegedly without your consent correct?" John continued.

"Yes," Adele replied.

"But you never made a complaint at the time?" John glared at Adele.

"Well I was scared that they would expose me. I wasn't out as a trans-woman," Adele stammered.

"So you chose to remain an anonymous crossdresser rather than seek justice for what, according to you, was four men using your body for sexual gratification against your will?" John's voice was getting louder.

Celia wanted to object but Adele glared at her from the witness stand. They knew that this line of questioning was coming.

"Yes. But it was not that simple," Adele replied.

"Oh and I forgot to add that during the so called attack you managed to achieve sexual gratification yourself, possibly here," John clicked his clicker.

Adele lay underneath John Murray, her arms embracing him and legs locked around his waist.

Adele did not answer; she bowed her head.

"Let's move onto some less distasteful testimony," John Murray blanked the screens with his clicker but the damage had been done.

"When did you hear that my clients had been found not guilty in the sexual assault case against Miss Melody Summers?" John Murray changed tack.

"I read about it in the newspapers the day after the trial; but Miss Summers was never named. Her name was suppressed by court order," Adele replied.

"Exactly Ms Edwards. So you must have made some effort to track Miss Summers down; or did she come to you and propose civil litigation?" John was on a roll.

"I found her and suggested that we might have a case. That although she had lost in the criminal justice system, perhaps I could get her compensation through litigation," Adele replied coolly.

"Exactly," John grinned.

"So my final question to you is this?"

"Did you bring this frivolous and vexatious law suit against my clients as a means of taking revenge for something that you claim happened fifteen years ago, but was never reported at the time or since?" John finished triumphantly.

Celia shouted her objections over the ramblings of the audience in the courthouse while the judge repeatedly banged his gavel.

The court was finally quiet.

"Withdrawn," John smugly returned to his seat.

*****

After a short comfort break the trial continued.

"Please state your full name for the record," John Murray began.

Roy was sitting in the witness chair looking every bit the urban cowboy. Stylised western shirt, denim jeans and jacket, cowboy boots, he was even wearing a bolo necktie. He had that cocksure grin on his face.

"Arnold Duncan Phyton Chesworth," he replied and blushed.

Adele guffawed. If was incongruous that her cowboy lover had a name befitting a Wall Street banker.

"Mister Chesworth is this you?" John used his favourite toy to bring onto the screens the online ad for Executive Encounters featuring the image of a shirtless handsome and tanned and muscular young man wearing a Stetson, jeans and cowboy boots.

"Are you Roy?" he continued.

"That's the name I work under yes and that is indeed me," he said proudly, smiling at the court.

"And do you indeed swing both ways as the caption reads?" John asked.

"Yes I do. But only for money," Roy said a little sheepishly.

"And swinging both ways means?" John leaned into his witness.

"It means I can top or bottom, pitch or catch, give or receive…" he answered before John cut him off.

"So you are a bisexual man who can play both roles in bed?" John said for clarification.

"Only for money," Roy clarified further.

"Do you know the woman who was previously counsellor for the plaintiff, Ms Adele Edwards?" John was getting to the point.

"Yes sir I do," Roy replied.

"In what capacity?" John asked.

"She's a client," Roy replied curtly.

"She uses your services… for sex?" John was grinning.

"We can stop this," Celia turned and hissed at Adele.

"No let him go on. He'll only introduce financial records to prove that I use Roy's services if you object," Adele explained.

"Yes sir she does," Roy replied.

"How often?" John smiled.

"About once a week. When the mood takes her," Roy replied casually.

"What specifically does she get you to do? Does she like to be humiliated? Does she like to be restrained or held down while you have sex?" John asked smugly.

There was a pause as both judge and defence counsel expected an objection but none was forthcoming.

"No sir, we just make love the usual way," Roy replied.

"And does she like to go both ways? Does she like to pitch it to you?" John was a little irritated with Roy's previous response.

Adele had to physically hold Celia in her seat because she was so hot to object.

"No sir she does not. She's a beautiful feminine woman who is a gentle and a considerate lover and I treat her that way. I only ever make love to her like she is a lady because that is what she is," Roy replied.

John was seething; this was not the answer he was expecting; not the answer that they had rehearsed during witness preparations yesterday.

"But you said… Strike that!" John Murray's line of questioning was derailed.

"Do you know Melody Summers?" John changed tack.

"Only from the TV and the papers," Roy grinned at John Murray who was now infuriated.

"Because you work at the same agency, did Ms Edwards ever ask you about Melody Summers?" John took a deep breath.

"Which question do you want me to answer counsellor? That I did not know that Ms Summers worked at the same agency as me or that Ms Edwards never asked me about Melody Summers," Roy said indignantly.

"Ms Edwards never asked you if Melody Summers was employed by Executive Encounters or asked you where she could find Miss Summers?" John's frustration with his witness was evident.

"Asked and answered!" the judge interjected before Celia could even object.

All that John had proved was that Adele had used a male prostitute on occasion. His attempts to prove that Adele already knew that Melody Summers was a callgirl before the case began or that she had tried to find Melody through the agency to solicit her to sue had been debunked. His half-hearted attempt to prove that Adele liked rough sex had also failed.

"I'm finished with this witness," John stormed over to the defence table.

"You know what to ask," Adele said to Celia as she rose to cross.

"Mr Chesworth; how much did the defendants counsel pay you to testify today?" Celia asked succinctly.

"Objection!" John Murray leapt from his chair, his face red.

"Well they paid me fifty thousand dollars ma'am," Roy gave Celia a beatific smile.

"The witness will remain silent until I have ruled on the objection!" Judge Brinkman was furious.

"Withdrawn your honour," Celia swept her skirt under her as she sat.

John Murray shook his head and took his seat.

"Sorry," Roy mouthed silently to Adele as he walked past her.

She just gave him a wan smile. Adele was pragmatic; Roy was a prostitute after all, he did what he had to for money.

*****
The case went viral in every form of media. A beautiful sophisticated trans-woman lawyer defending a pretty sex worker, both of whom claimed to have been sexually abused by four prominent businessmen was fodder for the news services and in the blogosphere. Everyone had an opinion.

To be continued

"You let them do that to you today in public. Those men, using their lawyer, dragged you through the gutter and exposed a past that few could understand," Celia's eyes were wet with tears.

They had come home exhausted from the day in court and had taken off their suits and dropped onto Adele's big bed in their underwear sans heels.

"I know. But I did it for a reason," Adele lovingly swept Celia's bangs out of her eyes with her fingertips.

"The public needs to know what kind of men those four bastards are. There has to be more women out there who have suffered at their hands. Mitchell Brooks said so himself from the stand that they have gangbanged lots of women and I bet my sweet ass not every one of them consented," Adele kissed Celia's eyelids softly.

"Grahame Grantham called again today. He's furious that you are not taking his calls. He threatened to fire you," Celia looked seriously into Adele's eyes.

"Let me fuck you a little; take your mind off things. We could both use the distraction," Adele smiled down at Celia as she climbed over her prone body.

Adele straddled Celia and lowered her face to her lover so that her forehead rested on hers. Their eyes were closed; their breathing ragged.

"Thank you," Adele said, her voice husky.

"What for?" Celia replied her voice wavering.

"For loving me. For putting up with me. For allowing me to be me," Adele's lips were nearly touching Celia's.

Adele pressed her lips against Celia's and then pulled back. Celia raised her head off the pillow fractionally, kissed Adele softly, and then fell back. It was almost a contest to see who would submit to their desire first.

Adele was unable to contain herself any longer, she stroked Celia's cheek and lowered her lips to her mouth and kissed her passionately, slipping her tongue into her. Celia put her arms around Adele and pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together and then she unhooked Adele's bra. She raised herself a little so Celia could remove the garment and then Celia lifted her back off the bed so Adele could take off her bra too.

Their breasts pressed together, their nipples hardening as the fervour of their kiss intensified. They rubbed their stocking-swathed legs together delighting in the soft sprites of sensuality this produced. They were practiced lovers and knew how to please each other. They opened their eyes and looked at each other, Adele's blue eyes stared deeply into Celia's brown eyes, full of wonder and love for each other. They did not need to speak; their total adoration and commitment to each other communicated silently. They accepted each other for who they were. Their flaws and their faults were part of what made them love each other.

Adele leaned in and softly kissed Celia's neck. Celia whimpered in anticipation as Adele worked her way back to Celia's tender smooth lips. Celia's blood red lipstick was nearly gone, removed by the intensity of her lover's kisses.

Adele bought her hands to Celia's breasts, her enlarged berry-red nipples contrasted with her alabaster skin. Adele caressed the creamy-white globes and tweaked the nipples to fully engorge them. Then she lowered her mouth to them and used her tongue, lips and her teeth. Celia moaned and arched her back, pressing Adele's face to her bosom, guiding her mouth from breast to breast as each nipple became too sensitive to endure Adele's attention.

Adele began to inch her mouth down Celia's body, exploring every inch of her soft white flesh with her lips and the tip of her tongue. Celia pushed on Adele's head, impatiently trying to guide her mouth to where she needed it to quench her desire but Adele would not be rushed. She teased Celia, circling her tongue around her belly button, moving across to the curve of her hips and nipping at the sensitive pads of flesh there that Celia hated and Adele adored.

Adele could almost feel the heat radiating from between Celia's legs; she could certainly smell her juices mixed in with the scent of her perfume and the flowery sanitary product that Celia used. She moved her mouth down so that it was just above the waistband of Celia's panties. She ran her tongue along the alabaster flesh of Celia's soft belly until Celia's moaning insistence and the pressure of her hands on Adele's head forced her mouth down to the front of Celia's panties. They were red nylon hipsters, almost translucent, the crotch saturated with Celia's essences.

Adele kissed the panty-clad flesh above Celia's sex but did not allow Celia to push her mouth where Celia desperately wanted it. Instead, she moved her lips and her tongue to the crevices where Celia's thighs joined her hips and leisurely lapped and kissed the tender flesh there. Celia's heels were drumming on the bed and she was panting and groaning with lust, frustration and impatience. Adele smiled to herself.

Adele capitulated a little and finally moved her mouth to Celia's sex, lapping at her mound through the diaphanous material of her panties.

"Oh you bitch!" Celia screamed and opened her legs wide and pushed Adele's face onto her pubis.

Celia pulled aside the gusset of her sodden panties. Her vulva was swollen and open, revealing the coral-pink inner labia, the flesh glistening with her secretions. Adele lapped at the sweet nectar and Celia tensed up and screamed when Adele's tongue strayed across her clitoral hood. Celia let go of Adele's head and threw her arms out wide on the bed as waves of pleasure washed over her now that her lover's mouth was where she wanted it.

Her first orgasm was like a minor tremor caused by Adele softly lapping at her clitoral hood. It made Celia bite her lip and clench her fists. Adele was intimately aware of how Celia functioned and she knew how to drive her wild with frustration or how to invoke a spontaneous climax from her. Her real skill was keeping Celia on the crest of a climatic wave, invoking little pinnacles of intense pleasure for an extended period while Celia begged her for ultimate release.

Adele moved her tongue away from Celia's clitoris which was swollen and peeking our from her clitoral sheath. She worked her tongue into Celia's vagina and lapped up her juices, stopping to suck on the little pink lips that protected the entrance. She slowly worked her tongue back to Celia's clitoris but only used her tongue on the surrounding flesh, deliberately keeping away from the swollen nubbin.

Celia was squirming and writhing on the bed, her wide-open legs threshing.

"You bitch! Come of Adele… oh yes. There! There! There! Oh god I love you, you fucking bitch!" Celia screamed as Adele finally ceded to her lover's demands.

She circled Celia's engorged clitoris with her lips and fluttered her tongue on the angry red kernel of delicate flesh. Celia instinctively clamped her hands on Adele's head and held her face to her sex as she raised her groin off the bed and ground it against Adele who used her lips, her tongue and teeth to evoke a series of shattering orgasms from her beloved.

Adele could hardly breathe because her face was clamped to her lover's sex by Celia's hands and thighs but she endured the discomfort because she knew how much Celia loved it when Adele gave her cunnilingal pleasure. Celia was almost delirious with desire and lust as her orgasms crested and waned growing into one long continuous wave of pleasure that washed over her whole body.

Finally Celia's fervour abated and she relaxed her hold on Adele's head and she was again able to breathe. Celia lay spreadeagled on the bed, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her body. Adele worked her way back up Celia's body by the same route, taking her time to explore all the places she loved to until she was finally face to face with her lover.

She straddled Celia and looked down on her face which was serene with contentment, her damp hair and ruined makeup only made her more beautiful in Adele's eyes. She brushed Celia's lips with hers. Celia could taste her own secretions on Adele's mouth.

"You stink," Adele whispered.

"You made me," Celia smiled up at Adele, the rapture and devotion in her eyes unmistakable.

"I did. I love you," Adele touched Celia's cheek tenderly.

"I know," Celia stroked Adele's cheek in return.

"But you lied to me," Celia looked up at Adele with a mischievous grin on her face.

Adele frowned, puzzled.

"You said you would fuck me a little," she smiled impishly.

"I think you've had enough. I need your A-game tomorrow," Adele nipped Celia's earlobe as she whispered her response.

Celia knew that she was teasing. She could feel that Adele's cock had become engorged and untucked during their lovemaking. It was pressing against Celia's belly through Adele's satin panties.

"No, I want what you promised me," Celia locked her calves around Adele's thighs.

She arched up off the bed, slipped a hand between their bodies, and eased Adele's long, thick cock from the confines of her panties. She guided it to her sex and it slid inside her like a knife through butter.

Celia moved her gossamer-sheathed legs higher up Adele's body, she knew that Adele loved the sensation of her stocking-clad legs rubbing on her tender flesh when they fucked.

"Well if you want it, I suppose you better have it," Adele groaned and lowered her lips to Celia's mouth.

Adele was highly aroused, giving pleasure to Celia gave her such delight that she was nearly gratified and close to climax already. She pushed her engorged cock deep inside Celia, who rose to meet her thrusts and raked her nails along Adele's back. Adele snaked her tongue into Celia's mouth and began to fuck her with long slow strokes, attempting to prolong her pleasure and delay her orgasm.

It was to no avail. Celia used her vaginal muscles to clamp her hot, moist, spongy sheath around Adele's corpulent cock and her legs to hold Adele close as she rose off the bed to fuck her. She ground her already sopping cunt against Adele's pubis, eliciting another orgasm from her already bruised and aching vagina. She clung to Adele and kissed her hard, digging her nails into Adele's flesh, locking her legs around her back.

Adele exploded deep inside Celia's warm, spongy, passage. Celia's quivering cunt extracted her seed as she sucked on Adele's mouth. Celia seemed intent on draining her lover of her essence. Adele writhed in her lover's grasp, allowing Celia to pleasure her, expressing the deep love they felt for each other by their union.

"You still stink," Adele lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, smoking a post-coital cigarette.

"You still made me," Celia replied impassively.

They both smiled and drew on their cigarettes.

"I need a shower and then to put a few more hours into your closing statement," Adele turned to look at Celia.

"Me too," Celia turned to look at Adele.

Their hands searched for each other across the expanse of the big bed.

"I do love you know. I know I get jealous and moody at times and I'm sorry," Celia whispered.

Adele crushed out her cigarette; a look of concern crossed her face. She scooted across the bed and lay beside Celia.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I am the one with the fucked-up sexual addictions," Adele leaned down and lovingly kissed Celia on the nose.

"I guess we are both flawed," Celia sighed.

"Maybe that's why we are a prefect match," Adele replied.

"Do you really think anyone is going to come forward when they hear about what happened to you and Melody?" Celia put out her cigarette and leaned on her elbow.

"I don't know but I hope so. Between you, me, and the gatepost I'm not convinced that Melody is telling the whole truth. Come on; let's share a shower," Adele slapped Celia playfully on the ass.

*****

The first phone call came at nine o'clock the next day.

Adele answered her phone.

"Me too," a woman's voice sobbed into the phone.

It was the first of many.

*****

"Your honour I object to the plaintiff having those women sitting behind her as if they are offering her support. It's prejudicial and likely to affect the jury's verdict," John Murray stated.

"Ms Bettany, why do you have those four young ladies sitting in court behind the plaintiff. What purpose is their presence here today?" Karl Brinkman asked.

"They are rebuttal witness your honour," Celia replied.

"Rebuttal witnesses?" the Judge and John Murray asked simultaneously.

"Your honour; the defence has inferred that both Adele Edwards and Melody Summers enjoyed what happened to them at the hands of the defendants and that somehow excuses their actions," Celia began.

"That both women were willing and complicit on the evenings that the assaults took place."

"They have accused both Ms Summers and Ms Edwards of bringing a frivolous lawsuit."

"These four young women are going to rebut that testimony because all four of them are going to testify that they were also assaulted by the four men sitting at the defence table," Celia pointed at the four well-presented pretty young women sitting beside Adele.

The court erupted again and Judge Brinkman rapped his gavel repeatedly.

"Chambers! Now!" the judge ordered.

To say that Judge Brinkman was angry was an understatement. He stormed over to his desk, his black robes flowing behind him.

"I should hold you in contempt and commence proceedings to have you disbarred Ms Bettany," the judge railed on Celia.

"That stunt might have just cost you a mistrial. I might even direct a verdict of not guilty!" the judge sat down heavily behind his desk.

"I agree your honour…" John Murray was smugly driving home a perceived advantage.

"Don't you start Mr Murray. You introduced all this filth and depravity into my courtroom, showing off with your pornographic pictures and innuendo, making sleights at Ms Edwards’ gender," the judge held up both of his hands.

"I'm going to leave you three alone in here so you can work out a settlement. Then we are going to toss this slimy lawsuit into the trash where it belongs," the judge opened his desk and took out a packet of Rolaids.

"My clients won't settle. I've asked them repeatedly," John Murray sighed.

For the first time during the trial Celia realised the pressure that John Murray was under. He had let down his guard and the fatigue and strain showed on his face.

"My clients are men of considerable means but they believe a settlement will be a tacit guilty plea. They want the case tossed or to go to verdict," John sighed.

"Is that so?" the judge chewed his antacid.

"I have no time for such arrogance in my court. What just occurred is highly prejudicial but no more prejudicial than some of your stunts Mr Murray," the judge worked his hands on his stubble.

"You had both better be ready to close, because I'm handing the case to the jury this very afternoon. I've had enough," Judge Brinkman poured himself a glass of water and waved the counsellors out of his office.

*****
The plaintiff's counsel had the privilege of addressing the jury first.

Bettany made sure that she addressed each of the twelve members of the jury individually but she mostly targeted Millicent Ford, the forewoman of the jury.

"Look closely at the pictures that the defendants claim prove that my client was a willing participant during her attack. Is she smiling in any of them? Does there appear to be any gestures of affection?" she began her address.

"No; just a woman being forced to have sex, and yes even being forced to enjoy it at times, but forced just the same. Mitchell Brooks is the instigator, he tries out women that appeal to him and then offers them to his three friends, with or without the women’s permission."

"Yes, Melody Summers has to supplement her income by working as a callgirl, that has been stipulated and the fact that she was engaged professionally my Mitchell Brooks twice previously only adds weight to our premise that he lured her to the cocktail party with the intent to submit her to the ordeal through which she suffered."

"Then the defence attacked my co-counsel and drew her into the trail, claiming that she was seeking revenge by proxy through Melody Summers. Ms Edwards own testimony and that of the man she knew only as Roy have debunked this theory. There was no collusion; Roy had never met Melody Summers until he stepped into this courtroom."

"What has been exposed is a well-organised scheme that the defendants use repeatedly to lure young women into situations where they have no choice but to submit to the debauchery inflicted on them by the four men sitting at the defendants table. They then use blackmail to silence the women after the fact, showing these women graphic images which they threaten will be released online or sent to the unfortunate victims friends and family."

"Search your hearts and find the defendants guilty and award them damages that will put a stop to their abominable and odious games," Celia thanked the jury and took her seat.

John Murray rose and swaggered confidently to stand in front of the jury.

"I'm not going to keep you long. You have heard the evidence and the facts of the case. In fact I'm mostly going to iterate what I said in my opening address," John Murray began.

"This case is simple. The work has already been done for you. Daniel Benstead, Brian Stetford, Peter Grady and Mitchell Brooks were all found not guilty in criminal court. This case is simply a matter of greed and revenge."

"But what has changed is that Adele Edwards has been found to be complicit of colluding with the plaintiff in order to get revenge for something that she regretted doing fifteen years ago when she was still a young man coming to grips with her gender and sexuality."

"And as for the plaintiff Melody Summers. She wants revenge for being called a liar in criminal court. Her greed is evident. She was paid to be at the Beaumont hotel that night and to provide the services of her trade. But because these men are affluent, and men of considerable standing within the community and with plenty to lose if they are found guilty she found a way to squeeze them for more money. To extort them. This case is simply a case of coercion, post-coital shame and greed. Find my clients not guilty and send a message to those women who think that simply saying 'me too' is an easy path to a meal ticket," John strode confidently back to his seat.

Judge Karl Brinkman gave his directions to jury and retired them to consider their verdict. It was late in the day and everyone was tired and a little sick of having to hear about the debauchery. Before adjourning for the day the Judge made one last remark to the court.

“Now the evidentiary proceedings are over you may sit in as second chair Ms Edwards,” the Judge tossed Adele a small stipend.

*****

"I take it there has been no settlement offer made overnight?" the Judge asked John Murray expectantly.

"No your honour," John Murray shook his head.

"In that case bring in the jury," he ordered.

The bailiff opened the door and jury filed in to the courtroom and took their seats.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked gravely.

“We have your honour,” Millicent Ford, the forewoman of the jury replied.

A bailiff took the envelope with the verdict into it from her and took it over to the judge who opened the envelope and read the contents; his face deadpan. He placed the piece of paper back in the envelope and handed it back to the bailiff who took it back to the forewoman.

“Please advise the court of your verdict,” he nodded at the forewoman.

“Your honour, in the case of Summers versus Benstead, Stetford, Grady and Brooks, we the jury find for the plaintiff and award her one thousand dollars in compensatory damages from each of the defendants,” Millicent Ford announced.

Adele gasped and Celia Bettany sitting beside her hung her head. Melody Summers looked dazed and confused. The courtroom gallery became abuzz, and then the noise rose to a cacophony.

“What the fuck just happened?” Celia whispered.

“They believed Melody's story… they believed my story… they just didn’t think that we got hurt. They were unsure of whether or not there was consent,” Adele breathed.

The Judge began to bang his gavel over the noise in the courtroom.

“Order! Order! Order!” Judge Brinkman bellowed and finally the court began to quieten down.

“You may continue, Madam Forewoman,” the Judge looked over at Millicent Ford who was still standing in the jury box.

“We the jury, also award the plaintiff two million dollars in punitive damages from each of the defendants,” Millicent Ford nodded solemnly at Adele Edwards.

Adele was speechless as was Celia; Melody was still confused, and then the courtroom exploded.

*****

Adele, Celia and Melody retired to a small conference room near the courtroom and closed the door behind them, silencing the cacophony coming from the courtroom and outside in the corridor.

"Did that jury just award me eight million dollars?" Melody's eyes sparkled.

Celia nodded.

"When do I get my money?" the enthusiasm evident in her voice.

"Hold on sister. The defendants are going to appeal against the damages awarded by the jury. I don't think they'll appeal the verdict, they don't want another trial," Celia mused.

"The damage to their reputation is done but in the circles they move, they are just as likely to be seen as heroes rather than villains and their wives will forgive them because you can bet your ass that they had to sign pre-nups," she extrapolated.

"I'm going to ask for a settlement of one million dollars per defendant with the caveat that you sign an NDA. That's a non-disclosure agreement," Adele interjected.

"Why? Why not ask them for the full amount in the verdict?" the greed was evident in Melody's voice.

"I'll tell you why and I'll tell you why you want an NDA just as much as the defendants will want it," Adele's tone was bitter, her eyes icy.

"We're lucky that John Murray never subpoenaed your financial records. Because I have attorney-client privilege, I did, I check them. You deposited four thousand dollars into your checking account the morning after the cocktail party at the Beaumont Hotel," Adele said accusingly.

Melody's countenance changed from that of a wide-eyed poppet to that of a cocksure wizened young woman. She pushed back her chair and picked up her pocketbook off the table. She walked over to the door and opened it.

When she was halfway out the door she leaned back in and glared at Adele.

"How do you know the four grand wasn't just hush money to try keep me from reporting the attack?" she glowered angrily at Adele and then at Celia.

They both remained silent.

A grin crossed Melody's face.

"Because of that NDA, I guess we will never know will we?" she gave them both a slow salacious wink and closed the door behind her.

Celia was caught blindsided but Adele just shuffled the case file on the desk.

"What do we do now?" Celia asked.

"We go back in the courtroom and try to settle," Adele gathered the documents together, closed the file and stood.

Celia followed her back into the courtroom where the four defendants were arguing with their lawyer John Murray.

Adele strode over to their table and they stopped yelling and looked at her with stony silence.

"One million each with an NDA attached on my client. You won't hear from Melody Summers again and the case will no longer be of media interest," Adele said emotionlessly.

"Fuck that!" Danny Benstead growled.

Mitchell Brooks intervened.

"The NDA is binding? She can't tell her story to anyone, ever?" he glowered at Adele.

Adele nodded.

"What about you?" his eyes bore into her.

"I'll include myself in the NDA," Adele acquiesced.

"Do it! Get the paperwork to my lawyer today before I change my mind," he sounded subdued.

"Ok. I'll do that," Adele turned away from the defendants' table.

She turned around as if she had forgotten something.

"One more thing Mitch," she smiled sweetly at him.

“I know you liked it really,” she winked at him.

*****

The click-clack of Adele’s high heels on the marble floor echoed down the corridor of Grantham, Walker and Tate but this time the junior Associates and paralegals in the open-plan office were silent and bowed.

Adele saw two of the firm’s uniformed security guards standing outside her office with their arms crossed. Grahame Grantham, Max Walker and Alan Tate were going to send a message to their staff. Although Adele had won her law firm over one million dollars from the case, she had disobeyed her masters and was to be punished.

“Keys, phone, laptop and clicker,” one of guards said gruffly.

All of her personal effects had been packed into three cardboard boxes sitting on the floor outside her office. Taped to one of the boxes was an envelope with the firm’s logo embossed on it. Adele knew that inside it was her termination notice.

“Can’t we do this inside?” Adele nodded at her office door.

The guard just shook his head.

Adele was forced to fumble around in her purse for her office keys, her work phone, and the door opener for the executive parking garage roller-door. She handed them over along with the leather valise that held her slimline laptop.

She struggled to lift the three boxes and the guards made no effort to help her.

“You fucking creeps! Get out of the way,” Celia Bettany elbowed her way through the small crowd that had formed to watch and lifted one of the boxes on top of the other and picked them up.

Adele had already managed to heft the other box under her arm whilst holding onto her handbag.

“Let’s go boss,” Celia took up station beside Adele as they made the long walk down the corridor and around the corner to the reception area and the elevator bank.

“You don’t have to leave Miz Bettany. You haven’t been fired,” Grahame Grantham had come out of his office.

“Oh; I know that. I quit,” Celia replied flippantly.

The two women leaned against the back wall of the elevator as it descended.

“What do we do now?” Celia turned to look at Adele.

“Hey… I’m still a lawyer. You’re still a lawyer. We sign those four young women to a class action suit and go after the bastards again,” Adele Edwards replied.

"We start our own law firm?" Celia asked, a little surprised.

She thought about it for a beat.

"Edwards and Bettany, Attorneys at Law, sounds pretty good," Celia grinned.

"How about Edwards and Edwards," Adele took Celia's hand and stared earnestly into her brown eyes.

Celia choked; a single tear ran down her cheek.

"How about Bettany and Bettany," Celia smiled through tear-rimmed eyes.

"Whatever you want my love," Adele leaned in and kissed Celia's cheek.

The End

Author's Note: So reader, tell me what you think; was justice done?