Lonely Leah

'I will not have sex with him. I won't. It's a bad, damn idea and he cannot possibly be worth it. Even if he does look hot as Hell in green. And his hair looks really soft and curly. I wonder how it would feel to slide my fingers into it and tug. Not hard, just a little. Mmmm, he is so damn hot. Such sexy golden skin. Bet it looks amazing covered in sweat. Maybe once- NO! I will. Not. Have. Sex. With. Him. I won't. It's bad. Not good. Not hot and sweaty and sexy. Bad. Not worth it.

I'm going to die like this.' The corner of Leah's full mouth turns up just a little at her train of thought as she nods at whatever the person in front of her just said. Mentally, she shakes it off and reminds herself to behave. That these company barbecues are a chance to network. Just in case she doesn't get the job. She will, but just in case. Never hurts to have a backup plan.

"And the judge just allows it! can you believe that, the kind of ad hominem could have ruined me!" God, this guy is boring! How many drinks has he even had?

"That's ridiculous! So what did you do?" Knowing the kinds of guys he represents, whatever the other guy had said was probably true. She's amazed he can even look himself in the eye anymore.

"Well I..." She allows the rest of the conversation to fade out, nodding her head and making appropriate gasps every so often. Its a trick she learned in college working a phone sex line. Not that anybody at the company knows this. She didn't even use her real name when she worked there. Background check my ass. Guess its not really all that important to be who you say you are when pretending to be somebody else is what they're hiring you to do...

"My God, John," Leah says as the fat old man finally finishes his story. "That just seems so exhilarating! I can't wait until I finally get the chance to defend one of our clients the way you did! You are a true hero." Bullshit, all of it, but it makes the man inordinately happy.

That is, though it may never say so in her internship, the basis for who gets the job. Anyone can be competent. With a little work, they can even be great. But nobody can work a lie like she can. Not after all the practice she got in all the things she did to pay for law school. If buttering up the partners every chance she got was the price she had to pay to make it worth every sweaty, pervy guy she danced for, she would pay it. Happily. Over and over until the cows came home.

She just hopes someone comes over soon so she can slip away discretely. Just because she's willing to stroke his ego, doesn't mean she wants to. Everybody knows the suck-up never gets the job.

She'd much rather be doing what some of the other interns are doing and hiding in a corner with some of the bottles of free booze, talking shit about clients and the stuff they have to do because nobody else wants to. But isn't that the unofficial definition of interning?

She gets bitching about it quietly among themselves after work, but at a work function?

Mentally she shakes her head at them. Yes, she would much rather be hanging out with people who's stories and opinions she'd actually like to hear, enjoying this gorgeous day and the amazing food, but she's no fool. This is a test. A brilliant, hidden test. One that Leah absolutely intends to ace.

There are only two spots for the forty of them. She is determined to earn one.

"Of course, that one was over-ruled and..." Good God is anybody ever going to come over here? She can't take much more!

Just as she begins to seriously consider just leaving, despite the fact that this man could literally decide her future in his company, the gorgeous hunk she was lusting after saunters up.

"And then-" mid-sentence, the boring old man just stops. "Damon! My favorite nephew, how are you? My God you've gotten dark!"

Maybe she could stay another minute or two...

"Sunning on a beach in France will do that, Uncle," The hunk, ah-hem, Damon, replies. "Elise sends her love. She was devastated that you declined her generous offer to accompany me," the man says, his tone subtly indicating that this may not, in fact, be the truth.

Not that he notices.

"I know, but this firm won't run itself, you know! I was just telling one of this year's interns about that time I defended Soretti a few years back. She was doing a fine job of pretending to listen."

"I was listening," Leah replies with a sweet grin. "Your uncle is a fantastic storyteller. I felt like I was there!"

Both men begin to laugh, but its good-natured, not patronizing like she had feared it would be.

"Nobody has ever been 'fascinated' with my stories." John Flynn says, when the laughing dies down.

"Indeed. He may be a lion in the courtroom, but you would never know that from hearing him outside." The hunk- Damon!- says.

"It really was a good story. I wish even more that I had been there to see it now if real life is truly more engaging than your retelling."

"Tactful as well as beautiful! Your firm could use more of that, Uncle. My vote is for this one. Not that that matters much," He says, with that rakish grin that is quickly making Leah forget why she should not sleep with him.

His voice alone could persuade a nun to sin. A lot. And often. In the middle of Mass. Deep, but not too deep and smooth as silk. She feels herself getting wet just hearing him.

Mmmm, and those lips, so soft and full. She wonders if he can kiss as well as he can speak. She wonders what it would be like to feel him press up against her and just kiss her, right here in front of all of these people.

'Focus! Fucking stop it! Fuck, what did he say?'

"-your name?"

"Leah. My name is Leah Evans." Now. "It is such an honor to be a part of this program." No need to think about that now, either. Not good. "I have loved getting to see the way a real firm handles their day-to-day business." There, good save...

"Bullshit," Mr. Flynn says. "Tactful, yes, but there's no way you have enjoyed fetching coffee and filing old courtroom notes for our lower-level employees. I may be susceptible to flattery, but I refuse to believe that any woman with enough ambition to listen to me tell a story could ever be satisfied with such menial work."

"Now, Mr. Flynn," she says with a flirty grin. "Nobody ever said anything about satisfied. I'm just happy to know what I'll be able to ask of my intern next year!"

The almost startled tone to the laughter of the two men strokes her ego. There's no way he won't remember her after this.

You can stroke a man's ego all night and that will still be all its good for, one night. Make a man laugh? He'll ask for you again. And again and again and again. Every time.

Their laughter makes her feel more confident than she has all week. For the millionth time this night, she thanks God for her unorthodox history. Without it she would have been unable to even think with her brain so hazy from lust. As it is, she was able to use her lust to make an impression.

With this new-found confidence, Leah realizes that now is the time to make her exit. Mostly because she can't stop staring into the hunk's eyes.

"If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm feeling a bit thirsty," she tells them with a grin.

"Of course, Ms. Evans. Help yourself to as much as you like. We can be very generous."

"Thank you." Was he flirting with her? Surely not, a man like him would never be so subtle. Not even in front of family.

Still, the thought that he might have, in front of his incredibly hot nephew, makes her a little wet and she turns as she reaches the refreshment table, just to see if either of them had watched her walk away.

They had. Were. Still. Both of them with a look in their eyes that told her they were predators and she was their prey.

For the rest of her night, Leah spoke with clients and higher-ups in the company. Flirting, chatting, occasionally even arguing. She knew that she had to make an impression, so she forced herself not to watch as her boss and his nephew moved from person to person, conversation to conversation, just the same as she was.

Seeming too eager would only damage the impression she had made.

She couldn't afford that.

By the time she finally left (long before the last people, but after most of the important ones), her feet hurt from her heels, her back hurt from standing up straight and her cheeks hurt from smiling sweetly when people said stupid shit.

It had been an incredibly successful night.

She hoped.

For now, all she wanted was to go home and slip into a long, hot bubble bath and soak until she stopped hearing morons telling bad jokes and awful stories in her head.

'How did they even make it this far?' she wonders. She knows that at one point they had to have been real people. Interns like her. At one point, they had to have been funny and witty and real.

She shakes her head as she pours a healthy amount of sweet-smelling milk bath into her tub. 'That must have been a long, long time ago.'

She tests the temperature with her hand one more time, carefully making just a bit hotter, before she steps out of the room.

Sitting down at her mirror, Leah slowly lets out each of the pins holding her long auburn hair. She begins to carefully brush out each and every tangle, taking lots of time to rub her scalp and run her fingers through it. She knows she has plenty of time. Its a big tub and the water pressure in her apartment is simply awful.

Leah feels herself tighten when she hits a snag in her hair. She has always had a soft spot for hair pulling. Even when she does it to herself. She keeps going, running the brush through and then her fingers over and over as her hair gets softer and easier to manage, softly pulling near her scalp every so often to get herself even more wet.

In her mind, the hunk is the one brushing and pulling. He's behind her, shirtless and he's brushing her hair. Getting her ready for him.

As she runs through the last good snarl, she hears the sound of the water nearing the top. She stands and walks over to the tub, shedding her clothes as she goes.

As she turns off the tap, she imagines his hands on her hips. She stands and leans back the way she would if he were there. Into the space she imagines he would occupy. If anyone were there, she would look silly, but she's alone and moving as though he's touching her makes her so much hotter than just fantasizing. She runs her fingers through her hair, massaging slowly through her scalp once more. She loves the gentle way her hair brushes her waist with every shake. she imagines her hands are his. That he growls into her ear how much he loves seeing her with only her hair to cover her.

She steps slowly into the water, balancing on one foot as the other adjusts to the steaming water below her. Then she repeats the move with her other foot, groaning at the heat and the luscious feel of the bubbles tickling her feet and then her calves, all the way up until just below her knees. She lowers herself in fully, taking time to appreciate the way the water caresses her smooth, soft skin until her head is completely submerged.

Using her feet, she slowly pushes her head back above water and brushes her hair back. She lays her head back against the edge and just soaks, every muscle in her body relaxing to the heat and scent of the water and her favorite bubble bath.

Leah blinks slowly, allowing her eyes to drift open and closed a few times before she sits up and reaches for her overpriced body wash. She deserves to be pampered.

After lathering up her loofah, Leah runs it slowly down one arm and up the next. she takes her time and massages each side before moving on to her neck and chest, then each of her legs and then finally kneeling up to wash her stomach and back, the whole time imagining Damon is the one holding the sponge.

She slides back under the water to rinse, every pore in her body begging for the sweet release she craves. Begging her to quench the fire his smoldering green eyes lit in her earlier.

She knows it will be better if she continues to tease herself, but she can't resist slipping one, long, slim finger deep inside her hot, wet slit. She moans at the way her walls clench all along her finger and slowly drags it back and forth a few times before pulling it out and draining the tub.

The towels she uses to dry her wet body are, like her soap, overpriced but they are soft and warm and fluffy. She never could resist a good bath or any of the things that go with them.

Naked, she walks back into her room and sits back in the chair before her mirror. She slowly brushes and blow dries her hair. Trying to rush it would only make it harder for her in the morning, but she wants so badly to get in bed so she can finish what she started in the tub.

She settles for drying most of her hair and twisting the rest in a loose bun and rubbing herself down with lotion, following the same path she traced earlier in the tub. She leaves a few curly strands loose, loving the way they frame her face and make her look.

She gets up and walks to her closet, picking out an ivory cami top with mossy green lace and matching sleep shorts that show half of her creamy white butt cheeks. She does a little wiggle for the mirror, admiring the way the colors make her hair stand out and her skin glow.

She misses this the most about dancing. The way people would admire her pale skin and flaming hair. The way she could drive a man wild with just a few steps. She used to get so wet watching them stroke themselves in their slacks.

She has always loved a man in slacks. All the other girls went wild for leather and band shirts and bad-boys but she loved the ones who came in after work. The ones in slacks and ties, with tattoos hidden under their button ups and suit jackets. Not that she ever saw those, oh no, that would be dangerous, and against policy. She grins thinking of how little the bouncers ever paid attention unless one of the dancers seemed reluctant.

She imagines Damon sitting in the chair she has sitting across the room. She saunters over and begins to dance, imagining she's in his lap. She can hear the music in her head and almost feel him beneath her.

She stops when the song in her head ends, a habit so deeply ingrained she can doesn't even notice it and reaches her hand behind her tossing a saucy, come-get-me grin over shoulder, imagining him being pulled along behind her into her bed.

She imagines him kissing her as he presses her back into the bed while her fingers trace circles below his shirt. They take their time, kissing and touching in her fantasy while she slowly removes one piece of clothing at a time, first her top, then her shorts, touching herself all over, drawing circles and kneading at her breasts and thighs.

She imagines him thrusting deep into her as she finally runs her fingers down her smooth mound to her hot, wet slit and is surprised to find that, in this fantasy, He has become her boss. Mr. Flynn. Instead of fighting this or even trying to reroute it like she usually would, she lets herself get into it, imagining the head of the company stroking deeply into her sopping wet pussy. She finds herself gushing, soaking wet as she parts her lips and pushes first one and then two fingers inside. The harder her fucks, the deeper she pushes, her other hand flying across her sensitive clit until, in her mind, they both reach a screaming climax.

She rolls over and pulls up her blanket, too tired to even clean up.

The next morning, Leah is up bright and early with more pep in her step than usual. She takes a quick shower and then lets her hair down just long enough to brush and then put right back up before dressing in a smart black pantsuit with an emerald green top. She adds her favorite black flats and heads to work, studiously squashing any stray thoughts of Damon or Mr. Flynn.

Stepping into the interns' office, she realizes she's forgotten to put on any panties. Or a bra. Which is stupid since she's worn those two items of clothing every day for most of her life.

The only reason she realized it now: There was her boss. And his nephew. Setting up for, what looked like, a meeting.

'Fuck.'

"Good morning Ms. Evans. I trust you slept well?"

"Oh, yes, fantastic actually, I was so worn out from your wonderful soiree!" She says, breathlessly trying to cover her rapidly hardening nipples with her suit jacket.

'Wait, did he just call me by name?'

'That's either really good, or really, really bad.'

"If you will all please be seated? Today we are going to discuss the absolutely disgraceful showing you morons had last night. And make some cuts." This, delivered, not by Flynn, but Damon.

'Fuck.'

Leah sits up a little straighter and tries to pretend not to be absolutely terrified. 'On the bright side my nipples aren't hard any more'

'Fuck.'

"Evans, Schlittes, Gerain, and Volisse. Please, stand." Mr. Flynn says to the terrified group of ten interns.

Leah stands and smooths the front of her blazer, mentally preparing herself to beg, in front of all these men and women, tops of their classes, to please, please give her one more chance.

"I've asked you to stand so that you can more easily step out of the way of your fellow hopefuls as they leave." Mr. Flynn says, once the four of them are standing.

"Wha-" one of those not called begins. Chuck. They ate tacos together for lunch last Thursday. He had seemed her most likely rival. This was so surreal.

"Last night, faced with every important figure in this city, politicians, mobsters, the rich and the elite, you MORONS clustered up and drank together. Or spoke to the staff. Or stayed with one group, in one place. Or just did not make any impression at all. Only four of you had enough presence to be remembered, either well or badly by any of the guests. Those four are those standing. The rest of you should get out."

"But-" Chuck spluttered, now turning an awful shade of red.

"Security has already been called. You have thirty seconds to leave or you will be escorted out." Mr. Flynn said, interrupting Chuck's imminent explosion.

As soon as the door closed on the last former-intern, Mr. Flynn began speaking again.

"This is harsh, and I am certain it seems unfair to some of you, but this is not school. This is a business and those of you remembered well are more likely to get calls for the joy of working with you. Those of you remembered badly are likely to get calls because your name pops up in your clients memory while in jail as long as your court records are decent. Those not remembered get no calls. That is life. That is business. Please, sit."

Leah sits, still in shock. Watching more than half of her competition sent away was more than she could fully process.

"Now, I'm sure you've all had more than you can take with fetching and carrying these last seven days. It's time to change that."Mr Flynn says as he stands to leave. "Damon, please inform them of their duties this next week and how it will impact their future with our company. I trust you will all have a pleasant day."

"You will each be assigned to an attorney, an up-and-comer in this firm, and you will be based on their ability to win or lose a case. Period. If your attorney throws a case, you lose, too. Do not let them fail. You have seven days. Then we will meet in this room again and any intern who's attorney has lost their case will walk right out that door. No excuses, no explanations."

The remaining four, three men and Leah, look around at each other in shock. The jolt of fear, elation and finally more fear have them too shellacked to speak.

After a moment of silence to allow this news to sink in, Damon speaks. "Any questions about your new assignment before we begin doling out partners?"

Leah, suddenly nervous, clears her throat. "Will we still meet here in the mornings?"