#YouToo

byBSD1©

Ben Carson looked down the table at the twelve expectant faces turned toward him. Another year; another incoming class of new associates. He both admired and loathed them. Young, vibrant, eager to learn with limitless potential yet naïve, overly confident and, for at least half of them, about to take the first steps on a one-year trail to eventual unemployment.

"On behalf of the 100 partners and junior partners at Carson & Brady, I want to welcome you," Carson began. For the next sixty minutes he held their attention as he explained the do's and don'ts of how to get along in a high-powered law firm. Do plan on spending nights and weekends working; do dress professionally each day; do try to meet as many partners as possible in your first six months; don't talk about clients' business outside the walls of the firm; don't complain about the long hours; and, finally, don't sleep with any subordinate staff.

Carson knew from thirty years' experience that long, high-pressure work hours would drive some of the associates into each other's arms—or beds—and that was acceptable under the law as long as the associates were on equal footing in the firm. Sleeping with non-lawyer staff, however, opened the firm to claims of sexual harassment which, in turn, affected the bottom line.

That could not be tolerated.

Carson looked the part of a fifty-five year-old managing attorney. He had gray hair that added to his distinguished looks and carried himself with an air of confidence that came along with the inherent power of his position. He carried thirty more pounds on his 6-foot frame than he did when he started this firm twenty years ago and his interest in bedroom activities with his longtime wife wasn't what it used to be.

Still, he was a man and he instinctively perused the five young ladies hanging on his every word. Third in on the right: brunette, squatty, mousey; for her sake and the sake of the firm, Carson hoped she could write well. Blondie next to her, plain face but dressed nicely and eager looking. On the left in seat number six, a mixed-race woman with creamy mocha skin and what could be a sizeable rack hidden under her suit jacket. Pretty face. He made a mental note to check her out more thoroughly later. Seat four on the left, a bleach blonde with too much make-up and too bimboish to be attractive. Must have been hired by Brady personally.

Finally, seated next to him on the left, a short blonde with piercing blue eyes and a pretty white smile who was at that very moment chuckling politely at something he had just said. Despite knowing better, his ego and his penis inflated just a little.

"Ok, if you don't have any questions, time to start earning those outrageous salaries we are paying you. Remember, my door is always open so if you ever need anything, just make an appointment through my secretary and I will get back with you." More polite laughter as the meeting adjourned.

Two weeks later Carson was sitting behind his massive wooden desk looking over his reading glasses at those same piercing eyes.

"Ms. Jackson, I have an assignment for you. We've been hired by Gemini Pharmaceuticals to defend various cases that have been filed arising out of the use of its new drug Talla."

Talla had been introduced to the public six months ago and amid much fanfare. The FDA approved it after clinical studies showed that each pill would increase the capacity of the tissues forming the human penis to become engorged with blood, causing the user's penis circumference to enlarge up to thirty-three percent more than when the male was not using Talla. Primary care doctors' offices were soon inundated with men who, often encouraged by their significant others, wanted a little extra "confidence" in the bedroom and when taking bathroom selfies. Unfortunately for many, the increased penis girth was often accompanied by unremitting pain that lasted for several hours until the drug cleared their system. Soon, the court dockets were as crowded as the doctors' offices.

"I need you to do a couple things as we prepare to defend the litigation." Carson paused momentarily as he narrowed his focus on her upward-gazing eyes. The blue irises were even more brilliant than he remembered. The surrounding scleras were vividly white and her black pupils punctuated the contrast in colors.

Carson regained his train of thought and continued: "First, you need to search the federal court dockets and get copies of all the complaints filed regarding Talla; second, search as many state court electronic dockets as you can for any information about any other cases that have been filed; third, draft a motion to consolidate all of the cases in one federal court; fourth, get me a list of potential expert witnesses to consult on the claims; and finally, find out everything you can about the lawyers representing the plaintiffs. Leave no stone unturned. This could be a big case for the firm and one that leads to more business from Gemini if we are successful. And get this done by the day after tomorrow."

Susan Jackson let out a sigh as she completed her note taking and began to rise. "Is that a problem, Ms. Jackson?"

"No, Mr. Carson, I'll get it done."

"Good. I'll see you in a couple of days."

Carson subtly adjusted his pants as they both got up from their chairs. Something about this new associate just exuded sexiness. Her skirt was an inch or two shorter than her fellow-associates'; the curve of her silk blouse showed a hint of cleavage; and her breasts, although seemingly ensconced in some form of bra, swayed seductively when she walked. This last circumstance both perplexed and mesmerized him.

More than that it was her confidence. She didn't kiss his ass like the other associates and did seem intimidated by him or his position. He kind of liked that.

In his gut Carson knew he was testing his limits of self-restraint in entering a working relationship with this young women. (The gender sensitivity training was working, he thought to himself, ten years ago I would have called her a young girl.) Still, he was the managing partner, and who better deserved to have their office occasionally adorned by such a work of natural art?

Carson walked down to the office of the HR director, Nancy Blanch. "Nancy, what can you tell me about Susan Jackson? Where'd she go to school? How'd she do? What's her undergrad degree in? What brings her to Little Rock, Arkansas?"

Nancy smiled the smile of someone who knew Carson for more than twenty years. "I thought she might catch your eye. She actually has a couple years of experience. She worked at Henley Smith before applying here and before that was graduated cum laude by Georgetown Law. She got a B.S. in biology at Santa Clara. Good Jesuit schools. I don't know why she initially moved to Little Rock."

"I want her to help out on the big dick cases," Carson responded with the comfortableness that reflected their friendship and long working relationship. "No red flags in her application or with her references?"

"Her transcripts checked out. Henley Smith only verifies dates of employment and never gives substantive references." She paused. "No husband or significant other listed on her insurance information. Brady was the one that interviewed her and made the job offer."

"Figures. She's blond enough."

"Yes, but given her youth and today's preferred grooming habits, verifying her blondness might be difficult for even Brady to do."

Carson guffawed and turned to leave.

"Be careful, Ben," Nancy said without smiling.

Carson learned the first rule of being a good trial lawyer long ago: Sincerity was the key. Once you can fake that, you have it made.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said, striding confidently out of the office.

Susan Jackson strode from her apartment door towards her bedroom leaving a wake of discarded clothes and accessories. She kicked off her Jimmy Choo's and left her Tumi briefcase on the couch. She laid her winter coat over one kitchen stool and threw her suit jacket on the bed. Earrings and her necklace went on the nightstand. After pulling off her grey silk blouse and beige bra, she wiggled out of her pinstriped black skirt and picked up the oversized GEORGETOWN sweatshirt from the floor. Three minutes later she was sipping on a glass of cabernet and talking on the phone with her best friend Molly.

"How are things back at Henley Smith?" she asked.

"Same old, same old. I'm still working my ass off and getting very little recognition for it. In fact, I'm still at work secreted away in my office right now. Haven't attended a meeting with a firm client yet but they keep promising. How are things at your new firm?"

"I got put on the Gemini Pharmaceuticals case. Everyone in the office calls them the Big Dick cases. Just mostly grunt work so far but I'm working with Carson himself. Anyone talk about me back at good ol' H&S?"

"No! And we've been warned repeatedly not to talk about you. Everything here is still pretty mysterious about you leaving. The company line is that you left to pursue other opportunities and we wish you the best. We were also told that Mr. Smith was taking an indefinite leave of absence for personal reasons."

Both women snickered.

"That asshole. He got off easy. I should have taken him to trial instead of settling my harassment claim against him and the firm. Imagine him testifying in front of his beloved wife about summoning me to his office late at night and then walking out of his private bathroom naked and wanking on his pathetic little dick. Clients would have fled that firm like Black teenagers from a cop car. The whole firm would have gone down."

"You made out alright," Molly injected. You got your fancy apartment; nice furniture and another job with a good firm. Not bad for one minute of grossness."

Susan thought back on her seven figure settlement. True, she might have held out for more, and may have even gotten it, but after paying her attorney and paying off her student loans, she still had $600,000 newly invested with a financial counselor.

She had also learned a lesson that the Jesuits never taught her: With power and wealth come vulnerability. And with the recognition of vulnerability comes opportunity.

"Let's get together soon," Molly continued, "You can tell me about the Big Dick cases and I'll tell you about the four corners of my office."

"Deal. Talk soon."

Susan's put down her phone and reached for her wine. What opportunities awaited her at Carson & Brady?

She put her back against the arm of the sofa and considered the possibilities. Her right hand wandered past the lower end of her sweatshirt. Her right index and middle fingers brushed against the cotton crotch of her panties and moved slowly in a small circle. At the bottom of each circle she felt moisture coming through the cotton and as she completed the upward arc a pleasurable internal coiling occurred as her fingers stroked across her clitoris. Her movements became increasingly larger and more forceful; the moisture more prevalent; the bump between her puffy labia more pronounced.

Thoughts of Benjamin Carson, Esq., invaded her imagination: His oxford shirt was open, his suit pants and boxers down to his ankles. She was on his couch, her skirt up, her panties discarded, and he stood between the V of her legs, his hard penis fully inserted into her vagina. In her mind, he thrust rhythmically back and forth with increasing ferocity. She encouraged him with murmurs of pleasure and by digging her fingers into his butt cheeks.

Reality and imagination intersected as she pulled her panties aside and gained direct access to her most private parts. Her fingers now moved up and down along the length of her vulva. Each new stroke brought an increased sense of anticipation. She worked with familiarity and narrowed her focus to the engorged nub cloaked between her saturated labia. Her strokes shortened but gained urgency. Moments later, she and her vision of Ben Carson climaxed simultaneously. A great wave of release rushed through her body relaxing every muscle from the soles of her feet to her shoulders.

She shuddered and reflexively leaned back into the arm of the sofa, the sense of internal liberation subsiding. Her breathing slowly returned to normal. She opened her eyes and looked left. Despite the intensity of her orgasm, she had not spilled a drop of wine. She brought the glass to her lips and wondered why all of her lovers had such problems finding and caressing her clit in the way that she found so instinctive and enjoyable.

Solving that timeless riddle would have to await another day. Today, Susan Jackson had to solve the riddle of how to seduce Ben Carson and secure another million dollar payday.

One week later Carson called together Team Big Dick. He led the team of two junior partners, two new associates, and a paralegal. Along with Susan, the other new associate was the mixed-race woman, Beverly, who (surprise surprise) did have abundant breasts hidden beneath her loose fitting jackets. The paralegal was B. Wight Gates, Jr., a nebbish young man who seemed more comfortable looking at a computer screen than interacting with humans. Given his excellent memory and attention to details, his moniker around the firm was simply B. Wright.

"The Talla litigation is starting to heat up. We begin taking depositions next week. Todd and Robert, you will be in charge of setting up the data base, data input, and cross-referencing the testimony of all the plaintiffs. Beverly, I need you to head up researching the FDA approval process and the clinical trials Talla had to go through prior to approval. I also want you to find out how much was sold, how many complaints were filed concerning adverse side effects, the half-life of the drug, and how it is metabolized.

"Susan and B. Wright, you are going to help me prepare for the depositions including researching all of the social media for the each plaintiff and digging into each of their backgrounds. I want interviews of neighbors, if they have ever been fired from a job, arrested for any offense including traffic tickets, or even called the police about a noisy neighbor.

"The depositions start next week here and will proceed every Wednesday and Thursday in various cities across the country. One week from today, I need the data bases in place, the FDA research completed, and all the background checks finished and summarized. B. Wright and Susan, clear your calendars for the next several weeks on Tuesdays through Thursdays as we will be traveling for the depositions."

Carson left the room. A collective groan came from those remaining.

"Sounds like a bunch of fucking grunt work to me," Todd said. "Associates ought to be doing this shit, not junior partners." Robert nodded silently but resignedly.

Susan just smiled. Step one of her plan was going to be easier than she thought.

The knock on his door frame made Carson look up from his desk.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from our HR director, Ms. Blanch? Did someone come to work today with his dong peeking out from his zipper? Has the secretarial staff revolted since the circulation of camel-toe-Fridays memo?"

Nancy smiled and shut the door. "Ben, you can't refer to it as camel toe Friday. Granted, before the memo, the female staff did have a tendency to wear their jeans a little tight on casual Fridays but, still, you can't use that term out loud when other people are around.

"The real reason for my visit, and I say this as your friend, have you lost your fucking mind? Are you really taking Susan Jackson with you on business trips? Do you really trust yourself enough to do that?"

Carson gave an exaggerated look of offense. "We are kind of caught between a rock and a hard place, are we not?—and every pun intended. If I don't give her the same opportunities as a male associate, I get accused of sex discrimination. If I do give her an opportunity like this, my HR director says I am opening myself up to a huge risk.

"Don't worry, Nancy. I appreciate your concern but I know what I am doing. Besides, I am taking protection with us in the form of B. Wright Gates, Jr."

"Great. B. Wright's new nickname will be Trojan Man. Seriously Ben, can't you take Julie instead?"

"Is she the mousy brunette? The one that looks like she reads a lot of technical manuals?"

"The same."

"Can't do it, Nancy. Not only would it make the trip seriously less enjoyable for me but we need to put our best foot forward for the client. And you have to admit that Jackson's feet, as well as the rest of her, are far more presentable than Julie the Mouse."

"I told you before and I'll say it again, be careful, Ben. With all the #MeToo stories coming out, it's a different time than when you started this firm with Brady and there were no female associates. You have to be careful nowadays."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep Trojan Man close by."

The next week-and-a-half were moderately uneventful. Susan made sure she got her work done and gave it to Carson in his office. Carson made sure that the door remained open when she did. Still, there was some opportunity for Susan to start priming the pump of her plan.

"I've highlighted in yellow some interesting entries in the police report about Thursday's plaintiff, Mr. Carson," Susan said as she leaned over to show him the entries. Despite the coolness of the office, Susan had discarded her jacket and was wearing a sleeveless blouse. Standing beside the seated Carson, her breasts were at his eye level and her nipples raised the contour of the outer fabric. Carson took the opportunity to study her form once again. He also breathed in her intoxicating perfume.

"You are doing good work. I'm impressed," he replied. "And please call me Ben. There is no need for formality."

Susan smiled. Her inroads were small but significant. She noticed that he didn't try to move away from her or cut their conversation short. If anything, he took his time finding the notations on the various pages as she pointed to them. She also caught him peeking down her blouse at the real objects of his interest. After giving him a couple of seconds to appreciate the view, she straightened up slowly.

"Thank you again, Susan. I appreciate everything you have shown me today."

Susan left, not completely sure but sensing that the double entendre was intended.

Men. So simple, she thought.

Carson, Jackson and B. Wright arrived at the posh hotel in downtown Chicago late Tuesday afternoon. Carson gave the front desk clerk his credit card for all three rooms and the keys were handed out. Carson took the room on the twelfth floor overlooking Lake Michigan; gave the key to the fifth floor room to Jackson and the second floor room key to B. Wright.

"I want to look over some materials for tomorrow. Let's meet in the lobby at 8 for dinner. In the meantime, if something comes up, you have my firm cell phone number."

Thirty minutes later Jackson was sitting on her king size bed watching television. She had changed from her business suit to a casual scoop-necked white sweater and black pants. She checked herself out in the mirror and liked what she saw. The sweater revealed the tops of her breasts and was tight enough to leave little to the imagination. She had picked out a very sheer demi bra knowing that, in the right weather conditions or state of mind, her raised nipples would be noticeable through her clothing.

She was in such a state of mind right now in anticipation of dinner with Carson. If only B. Wright didn't have to tag along.

The chime of her cell phone let her know she had received a text message. It was from Carson's number:

"Being close to you makes me uncomfortable. B"

She typed a response with her thumbs:

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