NY Legal Ch. 02

ADA Bridget Fonta was working late. Again. But with the recent release of Michael McKean she was concerned enough to ignore her work for a moment and watch the interviews the local news had of him on their website. She hated watching the ones they had of her. She always felt she came across... wrong somehow. She listened as the reporter asked,

"Are you worried that having been released, Mr. McKean might seek some form of retribution, Miss Fonta?"

She listened to herself answer but all she could think while watching it was, "God, I look scared. Why do I look scared?"

She knew why she looked scared. McKean was believed to have murder all fifteen members of the "Lethal lead crew" in one night. Tonitia Gordy, a fifteen year old girl who was there during the murders swore out an affidavit confirming Michael was the one that had done the killing. When Tonitia was found dead a few days later the DA pushed to arrest and charge Michael for her murder. They had no proof he had killed any of the other gang members. And what they had connecting him to Tonitia's death was total assumption. Seven years later the idiot who -did- kill Tonitia admitted it to a retired cop in a bar. Murder weapon was found because they, apparently, were a very nice pair of scissors and the idiot didn't want to throw them away. Tonitia's DNA was still on them and now...

He single handedly killed fifteen gangbangers in their house and left no evidence that he had ever been there. Yeah, she was scared. The man was dangerous. She clicked on the latest interview with Michael. She noticed he was dressed nice. Black three piece suit with a red tie and charcoal gray overcoat. He didn't dress nice before. She wondered where he got the money.

"Michael, will you be seeking damages for your incarceration?"

"I want to be as decent as I can about this... BUT, we are in talks with the State's Attorney General's office. I'm sure we'll be able to work it out like adults."

"Are you angry?" Another reported blurted.

She watched as he laughed. "Uhhhh no. Not really." She heard the crowd of reports murmur their disbelief. Michael put his hands together and leaned forward like he was talking to children. "OK. Ladies?" He pointed to a young hispanic woman to his right. "That means you too. Just because YOU would have a hard time in Rikers? Does not mean 'I' had a hard time in Rikers. Mm K?"

"But you must feel some frustration over the whole affair."

He nodded. "Sure. I feel the DA's office needs better oversight. The charges against me were preposterous to begin with."

"What about ADA Fonta. She really seemed to have it in for you."

He laughed again. "The only thing I want from Miss. Fonta is dinner... and God willing," He smiled. "...breakfast." He smiled even broader and waved as he began to slip past them.

Dinner she could do. Hell, she could do breakfast. He was an attractive bastard. But that fear told her it was just an act. There was no way he could forgive her. She hadn't forgiven herself. She closed the laptop and stood for a good stretch. It was past time to go home. She began putting a few folders away in the cabinets behind her and when she turned around there he was. Just on the other side of her desk. When she saw that he wore gloves she glanced at her purse. Her gun was in her purse.

She was about to break for it but he had seen the glance and guessed what was in the purse. He quickly bounded up, stepped once on her desk and dropped between her and her gun. She took that opportunity to make a break for the door instead but he caught her and held her. She went stiff as he turned her around and pressed her against the blinds. His right hand slipped up to her neck.

"Michael, please. We can talk about this."

"I don't enjoy frightening you, Bridget." He whispered.

She nodded quickly. "Then why are you doing it?"

He gave a slight shrug as he removed his hands from her. "It was the only way to prove to you I didn't want to hurt you." He said as he removed his gloves and put them in the pockets of his overcoat.

She licked her lips and swallowed. He was watching her with that cocky smile of his. The same one he'd worn since the first time she met him. He always seemed to view her as something to be possessed. The "21st Century Woman" part of her brain hated him for seeing her as property. While the "Irish Catholic Divorce" part found it arousing.

"I AM sorry, Michael."

"For what? Doing your job?" He shook his head.

"I... " she shook her head in thought. "I knew you were innocent."

"You did not. You knew you didn't have enough to prosecute me. That is NOT the same thing."

She gave a few big nods. "I KNEW some ADA,who I could never find, said the police thought you killed the LLC for their drug territory and DA Wurster ran with it. But all the cops I knew said you did it because they raped a grocery store owner's daughter and threatened to kill her if he talked."

"Can't prove I killed anyone." He stated like a petulant child but continued in a normal tone. "And none of that means you could KNOW I was innocent of Tonitia's murder."

She sighed. The man exasperated her. He had since the moment she met him. "That's a nice suit, by the way."

"Thank you. I got an advance from my attorney's firm. Your outfit is very nice as well. Though I wish it was summer. As I recall you wear hip hugging skirts in the summer. Mmmmm." He smiled. She laughed. He put his right hand on her hip and she flinched. "Do I still scare you?"

Yeah... You... Yes." She gave several fat nods.

"You know I'm not going to hurt you. Right?"

She shook her head. "Maybe you have something more sinister in mind."

"Yeah I do." He smiled once more as stepped even closer and put his left hand on her other hip."

"Woah boy. Wooooah" She pressed her hands against his chest and smiled nervously. "Let's just uh..."

"But counselor, you said you were sorry." He smiled innocently only a few inches from her face.

"Heh... uh, not that sorry."

"Well, how sorry are we talkin? Maybe I can work with it."

She could feel his thumbs rubbing her hips. "Michael." She whined.

"Yes, Bridget?" She hated that smug smile.

She sighed. "We both know you're not really interested in me."

"I'm not? Why am I here then?"

"Well,.." She nodded a few times. "...you were pretty obvious about the sex thing."

"I DO want sex. What sane man, {or lesbian}, could look at you and not want it? But why you?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes you do." He whispered

'You're..." She shrugged. "Trying to have a quick fling so you can brag about it before you run off after some..." Another shrug. "...super model or something."

He stepped away from her and cocked his head to the side as he let go of her hips. "You don't actually know how hot you are. Do you?"

She took a breath. "I know I don't have the looks to warrant this kind of attention."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothin." He shrugged. "It's just..." He shook his head. "I always thought you were doing the Sister Bridget chastity routine because you were making excuses. Like, I have a daughter to raise or I have a career or the family needs me or some lame ass thing like that."

"Those are not lame ass things!"

"Yeah and they're also not the problem."

He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. "...Well?" She shrugged.

"You think you're ugly."

"I do not... I just know that I'm..." she shrugged again. "You know?" She crossed her arms over her breasts and chewed her lip. "Not glamorous." He laughed. "What?!"

"Glamor" is about fashion, not looks."

"You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean. I'm just not sure you do." He watched her a moment. "Your marriage..."

"Yeah." She said with a strong tone of warning.

He smiled. "Did it end because he cheated on you?" She nodded. "Tell me what happened."

"No!"

"Oh please tell me." He asked in an almost child like voice.

"Why?"

"Because you can't imagine why I'd be here and every other man, {and lesbian}, on earth couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else."

She shook her head. "...Uhh, we were in love. We got married and had my daughter, Sami. And then a few years later I found out he was sleeping with one of his clients."

Michael nodded. "Was SHE glamorous?"

She shrugged. "She was my height, blonde hair, blue eyes, big breasts so, yeah. I suppose she was."

He nodded. "So, your marriage didn't fail because your ex is a jackass..." She laughed. "It failed because he found something better?"

She kept her arms crossed but raised her right hand to rub the back of her neck. "No... That's..."

Michael stepped back to her and gripped her hands. "I noticed you crossed your arms -over- your breasts when you got self conscious just then. You think he cheated on you because she had bigger boobs?"

She gave a small laugh. "Well... maybe?"

"She was just more glamorous then. Nothing could be done for that." He was nodding with a condescending expression on his face." Bridget shrugged. "You have small breasts."

"Thanks." She gave a mock smile and nodded. "I had my doubts but now that you've clarified things for me I'm sure life will be better. I am so glad you came here tonight so we could have this moment." She continued her fake smile while nodding.

"So they can't be glamorous." She dropped the smile and shook her head at him. He reached up and stroked a few strands of her hair. "Dark brown hair." He grimaced and continued, "Not very glamorous." He shook his head. "Dark brown eyes." He grimaced and shook his head again. "Very mundane. Not glamorous." He placed his hands on her hips again pulling her snugly against him. "You are easily the sexiest woman I've ever seen."

"You... You just want to get into my pants."

He nodded. "I do. I told all of New York just this morning." She laughed. "But I haven't lied to you since I got here."

She chewed her lip a moment. "Who killed the LLC?" She whispered.

"I did. Couldn't get anyone to testify against em. And once I heard they raped a female jogger that morning..." He shrugged. "That was that."

She gave a small frown. "H... How do you know I won't bring charges against you?"

He pulled her even tighter against him until she could feel the large bulge of his crotch pressing into her stomach. "I think you have more pressing matters before you, counselor."

He leaned in and gently grazed his lips across hers. She quickly leaned back and put her fingers on his lips.

"No... I..."

He smiled. "What?" He asked gently.

She shook her head. "I can't."

"Tell me why."

She shook her head and sighed again. "...I'm scared."

"You don't think I was scared my first time?"

"This is not my first time!"

"Twelfth birthday party, pants around my ankles..."

"12th!?"

"Bent over the couch sayin 'Dad, are you sure this is the tradition?"

"Oh! You're disgusting!"

Then he kissed her. She quickly leaned into it sliding her tongue out to meet his. She felt him slide his left hand under her hair to grip the back of her head while his right slid down to grip her ass. What she hadn't realized was that she had gripped his shoulder and head pulling him deeper into the kiss as well.

She felt him slide the zipper down the back of her slacks and that is when she broke the kiss and pushed him back.

"Stop. Stop." She shook her head at him but wouldn't make eye contact. "I can't do this."

"Oh come on!" She looked at him. "You're the most uptight woman in New York city! You gotta be ready to pop by now!"

"I am not uptight!"

"You haven't seen a dick since your wedding night."

"Those two things aren't related AND YES I have!"

"They ARE. And walkin in on your brother wankin it doesn't count."

"You don't really want to get laid tonight. Do you?"

He gave several quick nods. "I do. The problem is, you don't."

She stuck her hands out in exasperation. "I never said I did!"

He grabbed her hands and stepped closer. "But you -really- need to."

She sighed out a laugh. "Sex doesn't solve everything, Michael."

"No, but it's like a good roast beef sandwich. You really should have one more than once every TWENTY YEARS!"

She pulled her hands away. "It hasn't been twenty years."

He put his hands on his hips. "Oh yeah? How long then?"

"Recent" She sulked. He looked unimpressed. "VERY recent. I should probably get tested just to be safe." She fumed.

He nodded. "Yeah, you kiss like it's been recent."

She scoffed. "Look, not everybody......" She shook her head again and looked at the floor. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"You know why."

"Yeah. I do. Because this is a con." She said before pulling the zipper back up on her pants and stepping away from him.

"You're right. It IS a con." He smiled.

She gave a curt nod. "Thank you for admitting it."

"YOU have conned yourself for the last twenty years." He said as she threw her arms in the air and growled at the ceiling in frustration. "After your divorce you refused to let anyone in. Probably to keep from being hurt. Right?" She didn't want to answer. "And really all you did was miss out on years of fun." She was chewing her lip again. "I mean, would there have been heartbreak? Possibly. But I wouldn't trade all the good times I had with my dad just to avoid the funeral... Would you?" He asked as he stepped closer to her and gripped her hips again.

She placed her hands on his chest to keep him at a modicum of a respectable distance. "That's not the same thing."

"That is exactly what you've done... You've chased off all of the viable suiters until all your left with is..." He was shaking his head and smiling again. She couldn't help but laugh. "...the craziest Irishman in New York."

"Ha!" She smiled.

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. "Come on." He whispered.

She pulled back. "Please don't do this." She whined. He looked confused. "I know you want revenge. You certainly deserve it but not this. Please." She whined out. "I'll do anything else you want."

He watched her a moment before speaking without emotion. "Anything?" She closed her eyes in dread thinking about just how guilty she felt until, eventually, she gave a small nod and looked at him again. "So if I tell you ...Get on your knees, Bridget." He commanded. It took her a moment to respond but she knelt down before him. He placed his right hand on the back of her neck as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I suppose the deal is, you do this for me and the slate is clean?" She nodded in response. "You won't ever see me again. We're even. Right?"

"Yes."

"And this seems fair to you? This is what you owe me?" She began to reach for the fly of his pants.

"Hey. Hey. Hey." He said as he took her hands and squatted down in front of her. "This..." He shook his head. "You don't owe me this. You don't owe ANYONE this. Alright?" She looked confused. Relieved but disappointed. "I want you to do this for me and a LOT more." He smiled which made her laugh. "But I want it to be because it's something you want too." He shook his head again. "Not some... debt you've concocted as a means to... You don't owe me anything. OK?"

She sighed but eventually nodded. "OK."

He slipped his hands up to her cheeks and pulled her into a kiss. When he pulled away he said, "What I want from you is far harder for you to give than sex." She worked her jaw a bit in thought. "I want you to trust me." She let out a short almost shrill cynical laugh. "Oh come on! I just turned down a free blow job from the sexiest ADA in the United States! What kind of a man does that?"

"A gay one." She nodded.

He pulled back from her. "Man, your ex really screwed you up. Didn't he?"

She laughed. "...Yeah. I think he did."

Michael leaned back in and kissed her once more. He slipped his right arm under her knees and his left behind her back as he picked her up off the floor and carried her to the edge of her desk where he set her down. He then stepped between her legs and began to unbutton her blouse while he kissed her frequently. Once her blouse was open he placed his hands on her sides and began to rub with his thumbs again.

"Do you like the way my hands feel on you?"

She licked her lips. "Yes." She whispered.

He nodded and removed his overcoat and jacket before placing them on one of the chairs in her office. "Will you help me with this?" He asked as he motioned to his vest and shirt. She began to unbutton his vest while he untucked his shirt from his slacks. Once she had the shirt unbuttoned, he pulled it open to show a perfect six pack abdomen with large defined pectorals. She whimpered. Bridget couldn't keep from sliding her hand up and over his stomach. "So, what do you think?"

"Aw... I'm gonna get pregnant." She said absentmindedly.

Michael used the time that she was distracted to unbutton his cuffs and remove the tie. He kissed her again as he slid his hand around her body till he was working the clasp of her bra.

"I can't... No! Michael?! I can't!"

"Why?'

"I..." She shook her head. "I can't have sex in my office."

He shrugged. "Why?"

More head shaking. "I... I just..."

"Look beautiful, I'll do anything you want, but I need more than a vague 'can't'. You gotta tell me why."

She sighed and licked her lips. "...I don't dread waking up on my desk naked and sticky..."

"RRRuhHaEally?" He smiled.

She laughed. "...I DREAD doing it alone." She was shaking her head again. "And you... You're..."

"What? Not dependable?" She stopped shaking her head. "A liar?" She began to chew on her lip. "A philandering -bastard- of the highest order?" She laughed. "Have you ever heard anyone describe me as any of those?" He asked as he slowly unzipped her slacks.

"No. But you're here, doing this." She grabbed his hands to stop him unzipping.

"This? I've wanted this for seven years. I've dreamed about it. Ever since the first time you walked into that interrogation room."

She remembered that interview. It was part of the reason she never thought he killed Tonitia.

"You were just trying to fluster me."

"Fluster what? It was a simple 'take the deal' meeting." In his best Bridget voice, which wasn't good by the way, "Mr. McKean, sign this confession and we can promise you'll only do twenty years. OTHERWISE the judge is gonna hit you with fifty."

"I don't sound like that." She smiled just before he leaned in and kissed her.

"And what did I say?"

In her best Michael McKean voice, which was absolutely terrible, "She's got legs that go all the way up until they just make an ASS outta themselves."

He laughed. "You heard that?"

"Of course I heard that. I was standing six feet from you."

"It was a busy courtroom and you were putting your things away. I didn't think you heard me." She was nodding and smiling. "Anyway, that was months later. That was not what I said that first time."

"No, it wasn't... You said you don't confess to things you didn't do."

"Sound like the kinda guy who's gonna leave you here naked and alone?"

She eventually shook her head just before she felt the knuckles of his right hand skim across the crotch of her slacks. She grabbed his wrist. "This is -too- soon."

"It is not." He stated with exasperation.

"It IS..." She shook her head. "You can't pop back into my life for fifteen minutes and expect..." More head shaking.

Michael sighed. "What are we even talking about?" He shrugged. "You want this as bad as I do."

It took a minute but she nodded. "I do. But I can't just sleep with you. This is not who I am."

"So we're talking about propriety? Because I can tell you how this will go;

{Come to dinner with me.}

[I'd love to.]

Then I walk you home, kiss goodnight and grope your ass right quick."

Bridget laughed again.

"Show up tomorrow,

{Go to dinner with me.}

[We just went out last night. Why's it have to be so soon?]