Edge of Reason Ch. 01

"Temporary insanity does seem like a stretch," said Giles. "It might have worked had it happened the day she found out who murdered her son, but it was after the trial."

"How about you leave the legalities to me?" said Heather calmly.

"Suit yourself, but remember, it's not me you have to convince."

* *

There was a heaviness. The air seemed laden with poison, the guttural filth of everyday sin. She took a deep breath, trying to figure out which side of death's door she had woken up on. Her heavy lidded eyes opened in slivers, praying she might see Cody waiting for her.

Alas, all that Natasha saw was her lawyer waiting by her bedside. The attending doctor came in immediately and flashed a pencil light into both her eyes.

"How do you feel?"

"I don't," was Natasha's simple reply.

"The doctors have to keep you here for seventy two hours. After that, I'll be back to pick you up."

"Heather," she said weakly, feeling the weight of all the sedatives. "Why can't you just let this one go?"

Heather didn't answer. She pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Natasha lifted herself off the bed on her shoulder. The weight was more than her weak joint could take and she collapsed.

"I don't want to fight, Heather. I can't understand why you do."

Complete silence reigned for a few seconds. Heather held the metal railing hard and clenched her eyes shut.

"I saw the tape."

Natasha's eyes shot up at her lawyer's. Heather took a deep breath and said in a steadfast voice.

"I'm not going to let you go to prison, Natasha. After seventy-two hours, I'm coming to pick you up. That's final."

The client gaped from the bed while her hitherto cold-hearted lawyer walked out of the room.

* *

SEVENTY-TWO HOURS LATER

"Where are we going?" Natasha asked listlessly, leaning against the plush leather recliner. Her eyes were half-lidded from the remnants of the sedatives. She clutched her seatbelt gently.

"Away," said Heather, looking straight ahead.

Natasha looked bewildered for a few seconds. Heather slowed down to the point where she could control the power steering with one hand before speaking again.

"Don't worry, we're not skipping town," she said. "The last thing you need is to be a fugitive. We're just going out for a bit."

Natasha turned her forlorn expression out of the window. Unfeeling concrete walls and brownstones gradually gave way to the lush green country. The air was alive with the rejuvenated spirit of Mother Nature. Birds chirped and insects went about their daily tasks, cheerily heralding spring.

There could not be a greater contrast to the shell of a human being in the passenger seat of the steel grey Bugatti Veyron. Heather kept a close watch through the corner of her eye. Her client idly twirled her hair around her finger and back, fixing a blank look at the scenery unfurled outside the window.

"So you saw the tape?" asked Natasha, not turning her head.

"Yes," Heather choked out, trying her best not to think of it.

"That tape is the last record of my baby's life. The last time he was still alive," came a trembling reply from the side. "They didn't let me see it. The police didn't let me see it."

"Natasha, they were only protecting you. No mother should ever see such a video."

"Did he look scared? Did he suffer much?"

An unusual lump caught in Heather's throat. She took a deep breath, forcing out glimpses of what she had seen earlier.

"Please, I need to know," squeezed out Natasha. "Did Cody suffer?"

Heather did not answer. She silently kept driving, her eyes fixed on the road. Natasha looked down.

"Cody, baby. You're not alone. Mommy has felt so much pain since you left."

Heather drove off the country road towards the shore. There was a row of yachts tethered to the wharf.

"Alden's Cove," Heather informed her client as she drove to the parking area. "The southern route leads towards Locust Point. I come here when I need to be alone for a while."

"Why have you brought me then?"

"We need to be alone for a bit," came the reply as Heather parked and opened the door. "Maybe you'll find some perspective on the calm sea."

They walked silently to the main office where Heather signed some paperwork and got a permit. Expansive yachts, each built on years of unfettered greed covered the coastline. She walked to her designated spot to find Norah standing exactly where she last left it.

"Help me, Norah," she prayed silently. Within a few minutes, the boat set out on the crystal clear waters. Two heavy souls went with it, both seeking absolution in their own ways.

* *

Natasha sat at the edge of the railing. The water looked placid, reflecting the orange hue smeared across the horizon. Her forlorn gaze followed the streak of light splitting the cerulean surface all the way to the glowing semi-circle shrouded by clouds.

"My Dad used to take me on his yacht," Natasha said. "We explored most of the Long Island Sound together. For days on end, we stayed off shore and ate from the hatches."

"I would imagine he had quite a few."

"Three, but his favourite was Amelia, named after my mother. She died when I was young, but Dad never let me feel her absence."

Heather sat beside her, letting the boat idle for some time. Natasha's gaze was riveted on the blue expanse below her. Ripples lapped against the whitewashed exterior of the yacht.

"Given your attempted suicide, I can make a case that you're mentally incompetent to stand trial," said Heather. "You would be examined by a court ordered psychoanalyst and, if found so, be absolved."

"And then what? Live in a loony bin? Or so drugged up on various meds that I spend my life in a waking haze?"

Heather looked to her side, trying to decipher the ennui sitting beside her. Natasha continued to look at the calm water below. She pushed herself to the brink, deep in contemplation.

"You won't jump," said Heather quietly. "I've pondered over it a few times. The water looks so welcoming, but I can't make myself take that final push."

Her client turned her head and looked at her lawyer dispassionately. All emotion had frozen deep within her, teething under stoic wraps.

"I lost my son. What's your excuse?"

Heather took out a cigarette and lit it. She took a deep drag, calming herself and giving her a chance to form coherent words.

"I hate myself," came the soft reply. "Every single moment of every single day. Sometimes I think I could do the world a favour by ending it all, but I can never go through with it."

The other woman looked on while Heather continued puffs of smoke.

"Everyday at work, I have to set bad people free. The rich and powerful have tailor-made the system to help them get away with whatever they do. Who do they come to to exploit these flaws? Me. Whenever I get a case, I know that I'm defending someone who is guilty and has no intention of reforming. The only thing that separates them from common criminals is that they have the money to hire dirty suits like me to put them back on the street."

"Why not quit?"

"Are you kidding me?" she coughed. "This job is the reason I have the apartment on Fifth Avenue, the Bugatti, the yacht and all those zeroes in my bank account. Once you get a taste of this life, you can never go back. No matter how much it hurts."

Both women looked straight at the sunset. The entire sun had dropped below the horizon leaving a red afterglow in the sky. Heather looked down at the water again, trying to see her reflection.

"But you're different," she said. "You're a lonely grieving mother who has become a convenient target for an overzealous prosecutor. I want to defend you. I... need to defend you. But I can't do that unless you're willing to fight as well."

Heather stopped, suddenly aware of how much she had bared her heart. She felt a desperate burn deep within herself. All sorts of unpleasant, unfamiliar emotions reared up inside her in unison. She had sworn to never let herself be so vulnerable.

"You deserve better than to be a murderer. Cody deserves better."

"It's too late for that," came the disembodied reply from the side.

"No it isn't," Heather said, more to herself than anybody.

The mellow light in the distance had paled, heralding imminent darkness. Natasha looked up to see a prelude of stars peek out from behind the inky blackness slowly stretching itself across the sky.

A solitary tear formed at the corner of her eye, swelling with pent-up grief. It left a marked rivulet down her cheek. Heather's keen eyes traced its progress all the way to her chin. It glistened momentarily before falling on her lap and fragmenting into a million particles of a mother's unfathomable grief.

She leaned on Heather's shoulder, letting the next few drops wet the skin of her saviour. The lawyer let a hand caress her client's hair, running her fingers through the dense tresses. Without thinking, she turned her head and kissed the straw blonde strands entangled near her lips. Natasha raised her face and looked at her curiously.

Heather quickly averted her gaze, trying to let her moment of weakness pass. She felt a palm on her chin turn her head back. She saw into Natasha's eyes now, iridescent pools of affection flecked with shards of twilight. They shimmered and shone bursting to the seams with emotion. Their eyes were inches apart, as if each were trying to read into the other. She saw her reflection on her client's iris, for once not hating who she saw.

After what seemed like an eternity, they kissed. Their lips met and waltzed, like two forgotten lovers remembering what made them one.

* *

Natasha Belvedere looked up at the myriad of twinkling stars embedded into the black canopy unfurled above her. The night sky was accompanied by a cool sea breeze, which tickled every part of her naked skin. She closed her eyes, trying to relive the sensations her body had just felt. Pleasure as she had not known before lingered in each cell.

Footfalls approached. Heather came, sans all her usual layers of clothing, carrying a bottle of Glenfiddich and two glasses. She took a moment to take in the stillness of the sea, reflecting the starry night. The yacht remained motionless, frozen in time and captured in memory.

"First time?" Heather asked, pouring out two glasses.

"Yes," came the quiet reply. Natasha put her glass down beside her, content at watching the moonlight shimmer on distant waves. "I never thought I would."

"I'm sorry if I took advantage of you-" began Heather, cut of by her client's hand.

"You didn't. I had a moment of weakness," she said. "Are you gay?"

"Very," Heather assented, sipping from her glass. "It's something I don't deny any more."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Heather did not answer, taking another sip of whiskey. Natasha lay flat on her back. The cold deck of the yacht clung to her sweaty back. Heather let her index finger trail around Natasha's thighs, tracing lazy shapes. She drew a long ellipse, all the way to her navel and back down to her clit, walking her index and middle fingers over her pulsing torso.

"How fucked up am I?" Natasha mused. "I'm on trial for murder and I'm experimenting with my sexuality on a yacht with my lawyer."

She raised her head to see the fingers continue their cyclic wandering over her stomach and abdomen.

"You're confused, you're angry, you're depressed, you're desperate to make sense of your circumstances; but you're not fucked up. Not even close."

Heather smiled and smoothed her auburn hair back. Her eyes were fixed on her client's.

"My shrink says I have schizoid personality disorder," Heather said. "According to him, I block out emotions. I can't form attachments or feel connected to people on an emotional level. In fact it's probably what makes me a good lawyer -- that I don't emotionally invest in my dirtbag clients. I don't feel for them and what you can't feel... can't hurt you."

No one spoke, listening to the waves rumble in the distance.

"Still think you're fucked up?"

"Apparently not."

Natasha reached out and took her glass. The expensive, golden whisky went into her mouth, some of it spilling past her lips and pooling around her neck. Heather bent down and sucked it off her skin, savouring the feeling of contact.

"How do we deal with this?" Natasha asked, squirming as she felt the other woman's lips pressed against her. The walking fingers came to a halt at her clit.

"We don't," Heather smiled. "We enjoy it."

Heather's lips returned to her neck, kissing gently. Her lips pulled the delicate skin, gradually descending past her clavicle and sternum. She left a trail of wetness, marking her new found intimacy. She closed her lips around Natasha's erect nipple, swirling her tongue around it.

Natasha groaned and writhed with pleasure. Heather did not relent, moving to the other nipple and clamping her lips down on it as well. Her fingers came up and she gently pinched the free nub, eliciting a throaty moan from her client. Her tongue rubbed each nub in turn. Natasha's breathing became deeper, making her breasts swell more each time, pushing her nipples deeper into Heather's mouth.

Eventually, she disengaged her lips and kissed down her torso. Natasha's erogenous zones were awake now, tingling in anticipation of warm lips and a dexterous tongue. Heather kissed across the length and breath of her abdomen, paying special attention to her navel.

Her lips crept to her client's inner thigh. She planted soft kisses up her thigh, letting her lips explore. Natasha was shifty under her, but she maintained her focus. Her lips retraced their path all the way back to her mound before beginning their journey on the other side. Simultaneously, her fingers brushed against Natasha's vulva, feeling the wetness. Her index finger dipped in to the recently familiar orifice, prodding the fleshy wall.

Natasha felt the roving finger probing inside her, radiating eddies of pleasure through her nervous system. Heather let her finger run from top to bottom of her slit, gently teasing the inflamed opening. She added another finger, pushing deep inside until she found the G spot.

Her fingertips brushed the G spot over and over again, rocking Natasha's entire being with paroxysms of ecstasy. She felt a heat run all the way to her molten core. Every nerve ending was aflame with a singular desire.

It was too much now. Heather's lips were on her clit, rubbing her tongue against her sensitive nub. She moaned and turned her legs, holding Heather's head in place. Abruptly, she pulled her lawyer up by her hair. Heather looked bewildered, but followed her lead. She rested her chin on her chest and looked into her eyes.

"I want to do it to you," Natasha said timidly.

"Are you sure? You've never done this before."

"Please let me."

Heather took the lead and knelt above Natasha's head. She bent forward slowly, taking care not to put her entire weight on the fragile woman under her. Her dripping mons descended perfectly into the client's mouth. She paused, letting Natasha get used the new feeling around her tongue before bringing her own lips near the engorged lips, so invitingly splayed for her.

They tongued each other slowly and methodically. Natasha studied the beautiful opening before her, unfurled like the petals of a rose in full bloom. She let her naïve tongue taste the forbidden depths of her lawyer's desire once, liking the exotic, tangy flavour.

She thrust her tongue in deeper, faster when she felt Heather slurp at her vulva in a series of long licks that traversed the entire length. The tip of her tongue grazed her clit and made her buck her legs up, pushing her clit past Heather's lips. She licked more vigorously, inciting a fervent response from the woman above her. It was a perpetual motion machine -- a cycle of each woman giving and receiving unbridled pleasure.

Heather rolled to her side and rested her head on Natasha's thigh before resuming her licks. She saw moisture line her lover's orifice, glistening in the moonlight. The smell of sex intermingled with the sea breeze. A wave crashed into a nearby jutting rock and showered them with a fine mist. Heather's eyes momentarily detached from her lover to see the microcosmic droplets, suspended fleetingly and luminescent. They laughed, shaking the water off, and continued licking.

Natasha felt a seething need within her. It morphed and grew, feeding on itself. She closed her eyes, feeling a tongue and two fingers impale her pussy in rhythmic strokes. Bursts of light clouded her peripheral vision, seguing into a scintillating flare.

She whimpered and pushed her tongue as deep as it would go into Heather's warm, inviting folds. The taste, the feel, the ambience -- it all seemed so right. The very air was tinctured with the cool zephyr of night, ensconcing the sweaty lovers, exploring tantalizing parts of each other.

The need took over her now, singeing every nerve ending in her body. Her erogenous zones were alight. Her stomach rose and fell like the angry sea after a midnight tempest. Her breathing was ragged and uneven, unable to wait for the hurtling imminent climax. She clenched her eyes shut once more and beheld a scattering of colours.

Her orgasm swept her up like an inferno, searing through her and sending her into orbit. It had the intensity of a supernova and yet, the soothing calm of an autumn breeze. Her body verged on the edge of logic, before diving headlong into an abyss of untamed pleasure. It felt raw, animal, primal, and drowned her in endorphins.

A kaleidoscope of images flashed before her. She fleetingly saw her life in frames. The reel raced past her eyes until she could only see herself and Heather naked in still life watercolour. Heather felt a flood of cum rush out against her tongue. She lapped it up and took as much liquid arousal into her mouth as she could.

Wrung out from their mutual exertions, they lay in a tangled heap of flesh. So close that they breathed as one, panted as one. So close that their hearts beat in unison. So close that their skin in contact made them feel like a natural piece of the other -- a two-piece jigsaw puzzle which was finally complete.

They were both afraid and incomplete alone, so they held on to each other tightly for courage.

* *

Heather stood and looked around, taking in the scenery. There were a few people in the distance. Her eyes lingered on the imminent sunset for a few moments. After a short while, she finally composed herself enough to speak.

"I'm here once more to talk. It's been a while."

Her parents' gravestones looked back at her with their usual deathly silence. She slowly browsed every letter elegantly carved into the polished marble slabs.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited as often as before, but life gets in the way. You understand that, don't you, Dad?" she said. "After all, you were the one who encouraged me the most to become a lawyer."

The stones gleamed back at her in the ambient light. Heather felt a chink in her cold, invulnerable armour. She shrugged it off.

"Remember how excited you guys were when I got my first job? You'd be so proud of where I am now. I am in line to be the youngest partner in my firm's history. It's everything you dreamed for me."

Heather paused to kneel between the gravesites, letting her fingers softly caress the grass.

"See how happy I am?" she laughed. "See?"

The dead could not laugh at the irony.

Broken. Lonely. Desperate. Confused. Betrayed. Crushed. Disconsolate. Fragile. Pathetic. Rejected. Depressed. Hollow. Worthless. Destructive. Empty. Defeated. Tortured. Numb.

"I'm fine. I'm happy."

Even among those who could not tremble in fear or gape in awe at her stature, she felt it imperative to try and maintain her walls of stone. It was part of her psyche now.