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Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 1

By: Stardog Champion



BACKGROUND

Surrounded on each side by a scattered array of notes to herself, fact sheets and statements, 32 year old Andrea Bell leaned back on her weathered sofa and exhaustedly combed her hands through her short, curly brown hair.

"How in the Hell am I ever going to make this work?" the budding assistant district attorney sighed, wondering aloud how the Gods of Law could have given her such a difficult case for her first lead endeavor with the Colorado Springs Prosecutor's office.

When Darrell Blevins, the man who had held her current job, took a pay raise and moved to Denver, Andrea saw the job opening posted on the state government's website and decided to send her resume.

Desperate to leave Limon, the small town in Eastern Colorado where she had spent her entire life, and the dull throbbing emptiness that came with her recent divorce, Andrea gladly accepted the job in Colorado Springs when it was offered and the fresh start it provided

* * * * *

Even though she had been in her new position for over a month, the case of The State of Colorado V. Becky Montclaire would be the first one Andrea's head would be on the chopping block for.

Cautiously reading over the history of the case, Andrea fought the throbbing headache that had been steadily increasing in intensity since she was officially handed the Montclaire case from Darrell Blevins' files.

The fact that 75 % of her belongings remained in boxes spread out across the room like dusty cardboard statues did nothing to help Andrea's self esteem as she tried to organize her thoughts.

"God you're lazy ...this place is a mess...At least you got all of Cory's stuff unpacked," Andrea caught herself thinking, satisfied for the time being in the small victory of knowing her two year old Son was having some semblance of a normal life despite the fact that his Mother was neck deep in the draining reality of her job.

Taking a sip of iced tea, Andrea rubbed her eyes as she tried focusing on the VCR's digital clock. 

"Five minutes till 10...one more hour then I need to get some sleep," Andrea grunted, taking solace in the fact that Cory was now old enough that he didn't wake her up crying during the night on a regular basis.

Sucking in a deep breath, Andrea looked like a diver preparing to submerge herself under water as she leaned forward and resumed her seemingly impossible task of developing a winning strategy for the Montclaire case.

Engrossed in the pure absurdity of the facts of the case, Andrea bit down roughly on the shaft of her Bic pen as she returned her focus back to the beginning of the case file to scan over it for the 10th time of the night.

"How in the Hell could something like this happen?" Andrea groaned to herself, also for the 20th time of the night, as she carefully perused through the notes.

Having endured Law School and six years in Limon's Prosecutor's office, Andrea had come to understand that people were inherently capable of anything. The case of Becky Montclaire, a 42 year old former high school English teacher who had been caught red-handed in an affair with one of her teenage students, didn't seem all that unusual on the surface considering the spat of similar cases around the country following the Mary Kay Lourtourno ordeal in Washington during the late 90's.

In many ways, Becky Montclaire was the textbook example of the type of woman who had found herself in that situation. Suffering from marital problems, history of dependency and depression along with a huge void in her self esteem. Andrea was also young enough to vividly remember some of the crushes she had on certain male teachers in high school and college herself, so she completely understood how a pubescent teenager could easily be tempted into a relationship with an attentive and attractive authority figure. 

So on some level, Andrea understood how a situation like Becky's spiraled out of control. On the other hand, there was something particularly seedy, raw and perverse about the Montclaire case that made Andrea's fair and freckled skin crawl.

* * * * *

REWIND 3 YEARS

A numb and listless, then 39 year old Becky Montclaire, curled like a paralysed slug under the sheets of her marital bed as she listened to the sounds of her husband Jeff's footsteps make their way up to the second floor bedroom.

"I saw it in his eyes...all night long... I saw it in his eyes...he wants to have sex when he comes to bed...how long has it been...two weeks...maybe three...and I'd just as soon he shove a shotgun between my legs right now and fire it instead of his dick...maybe the sonofabitch will trip coming up the steps...tumble down and break his neck," Becky imagined vividly as the sound of the bedroom door creaked open and her Husband of 15 years staggered in.

Through all the ups and downs a decade and a half together could bring, the Montclaire marriage had been spat out the other end, not in the best of shape. Even though they had three beautiful kids to show for their efforts, the love, passion, energy and joy had long been sucked dry from the relationship.

As if the realization that her marriage was disintegrating wasn't depressing enough, the fact that Becky had re-discovered the joy of swimming to the bottom of a bottle of gin every night at about the same time her Father died unexpectedly four months earlier made the hopeless Mother of three feel like she was walking in quicksand each time she tried taking a step.

Her eyes clenched shut, pretending to be asleep the same way she did when she was 5 and her Mother would come to wake her for school, Becky hoped against hope she could fend off her drunk Husband and his lust filled advances.

By the time Jeff had folded himself under the covers and snuggled up beside his catatonic wife, the wrenching gurgle of air that escaped Becky's mouth let him know that she was still awake.

"I could be dead and he'd still do what he's going to do," Becky hopelessly groaned to herself.

Knowing it would be better to just get it over with and not put up a fight, Becky eased her thighs apart and gave Jeff the slim alleyway he needed to get his beer soaked libido satiated.

With all the passion, heat and intimacy of one of those machines you hook up to a dairy cow to extract the milk, Becky laid there and robotically squeezed her cunt muscles together until several globs of Jeff's sticky cum leaked into her indifferent womb.

Less than 3 minutes after he had started his torrid pace on top of his wife's body, Jeff rolled over and lit a cigarette in the dark.

"Damn that was good," He drunkenly babbled.

Unable to control her fractured emotions for an instant longer, Becky started to sob like an orphaned refugee beside her increasingly disgusted Husband.

"You piece of fucking trash," Jeff bitterly spat, after a moment to survey his wife's teary outburst.

Scrunching the remaining length of his Camel Light into the ashtray on the nightstand, Jeff pulled himself and all the covers off the bed.

"You can fuckin' lay there and cry all God Damn night if you want Becky...I ain't listening to it...I've told you a million times...if you can't deal with me...your God Damn job...your Dad dying...go see a fuckin' shrink...I ain't got the time to deal with it...you can have the whole fuckin' room to yourself to boo-hoo all night if you want...I'm going downstairs to sleep...and you now what...YOU'RE A LOUSY FUCK!!" Jeff vengefully growled, slamming the bedroom door hard enough that all 3 of his children were immediately jolted awake down the hall as their Mother sobbed helplessly on the bed.

* * * * *

"What a poor miserable sonofabitch to be married to," Andrea Bell thought to herself as she studied Becky Montclaire's background. "At least my EX never treated me with that much venom...he'd just do the shit behind my back."

Flipping the page in the case file, Andrea came to the background of the student Becky was caught in the affair with.

* * * * *

Carlos Vargas was the only Son of Ramon Vargas and Jillian Varner. Originally from Columbia, Ramon had been a studio drummer for several of the prominent funk acts of the 70's before joining a band with several of his friends to do their own touring in the 80's and early 90's.

One of the stops Ramon's band happened to make during the Summer of 1982 was a small nightclub in Denver. It was there that Ramon met a sweet, young and sexy 22 year old brunette named Jillian Varner between sets at the bar.

Jillian frequently made the rounds on the Denver club scene during those wild years of her youth but when Ramon slid up behind her and offered her a drink that fateful night, it was the first time one of the musicians that she had openly flirted with from the crowd actually showed any interest when he got the chance.

One thing led to another until Jillian and Ramon's one night stand grew into a steady, long distance relationship. Desperate to get away from the constricting cocoon of her life in Denver and totally infatuated with being in love with a musician, Jillian moved away from her parent's house to accompany Ramon on the road. The two married a few months later in Vegas and less than 10 months after they met, Jillian gave birth to Carlos.

Even though Jillian and Ramon stayed married for long 8 years, the combination of Ramon's infidelity, Jillian's dependency problems along with the natural angst that goes with relationships when one person constantly stays on the road to leave the other to do all the hard day to day work of raising a child, was a weight that eventually led the two to split.

When the pressure finally caused Jillian to snap, she left the motel room in Miami where she had been staying with then seven year old Carlos, and bought a one way ticket for a flight back to Denver where she still had some family that would take her in.

Happy to have some sense of stability in her and her Son's life, Jillian did the best she could with no financial help from Ramon to raise Carlos. Working an endless stream of minimum wage jobs for more years than she wanted to count, Jillian finally got the break she had so wholeheartedly prayed for when she was promoted to assistant manager of the McDonalds she had been slaving at for nearly 3 years.

Satisfied with Jillian's performance in the new position, it wasn't long until an opening was created at a new restaurant in Colorado Springs and Jillian quickly accepted her boss's offer and made the 45 minute move South.

That's where Jillian had spent the previous six years. With Carlos racing through puberty, and all the obstacles that inevitably went with it, being a single Mother to a Fatherless child meant Jillian's life had steadily become extremely bitter, draining and chaotic.

Chaos was something that Carlos Vargas had become very intimate with over the course of his short life. Having moved so often during his early childhood because of his Father's music career, then the upheaval that came with his Mother's attempt to make the best for him during his adolescence, by the time he and his Mom had settled in Colorado Springs, Carlos found himself two full years older than everyone in his 9th grade class.

That combined with the ridicule that came with being nearly 4 inches taller than any one else in his class, being one of only a handful of biracial children at the suburban high school and having a slight reading and speech impediment made for quite a chip on the teenager's broad shoulders.

A 9th grader with an 11th grader's mind and body was something that led to a lot of stress and tension between Carlos, the other students and his teachers as well. The fact that he also fathered a baby to one of the girls at school his first year there did nothing to make his life any easier either. By the time the girl's family had cooled down enough that they no longer were threatening to kill him, it was decided that giving the baby up for adoption would be best for everyone involved.

There were several times his first year at C.S.H.S. that Carlos thought about quitting school for good, maybe being like his Father and running off to a bigger city to put his own burgeoning musical talents to work instead of facing the daily ordeal of ridicule at school. With a Mother who was working her tail off 12-16 hours a day however just to keep the family fed, she wasn't about to let Carlos go down that harrowing path. Instead of letting Carlos quit, Jillian took the initiative to go to the school and beg the powers that be to provide her Son with extra help for his learning disability. That was when Carlos had been placed in a special class for an hour each day that was taught by two C.S.H.S English teachers, one of whom happened to be Becky Montclaire.

* * * * *

"Pheewww," Andrea Bell gasped, tossing the case file back down on her folded legs as she reached for her half empty glass of tea.

"How could a woman jeopardize her marriage like that...her career...the custody of her kids for Godsakes?" Andrea asked indignity. "Jeopardize all that...for what...a fling with a kid?"

A stabbing jolt of chilling irony sizzled through Andrea's spine as she snuck a peek out of the corner of her eye at her own seated frame in the mirror on the opposite wall.

"Yeah...just how could someone jeopardize their marriage and the custody of their kids for a fling?" Andrea laughed sarcastically to herself, internally re-living how her own ex-Husband did the exact same thing two years earlier, leading to the eventual dissolution of their marriage.

"At least Chuck did it the old-fashioned way," Andrea whispered to herself, taking some solace in the fact that her ex-Husband decided to run off with a secretary from his job rather than with a girl that was young enough to be his Daughter.

Setting her glass of Lipton back down on the table, Andrea dove back into the sordid details of the Montclaire/Vargas case, doing her best not to consciously hate Becky for abandoning her family the same way her own ex-Husband did to her and their Son.

Following the paths of Becky and Carlos during that tumultuous period 3 years prior, Andrea slowly came to see how the two bonded in the reading class Carlos had been placed.

"You've got two people feeling like complete outcasts...I guess it didn't matter that one was a student and the other was a 40 year old teacher...all that time they spent together when neither one of them had anybody else to confide in...they opened up with each other...understood each other...validated each other...," Andrea thought out loud as the pieces of the case slowly started to come together in her mind.

"Becky's life is falling apart and Carlos can't seem to get his off the ground," Andrea continued to think to herself. "Spending that much time together each day without anyone else in their lives to compare travails with...Carlos even told Becky about the Daughter he had been forced to put up for adoption...Becky, in turn, felt comfortable opening up and telling Carlos about having to send her own kids off to her husband's parents until she could get her life straightened out. Its just a classic case of two desperately lonely people who find some solace in each other...then it took on a life of its own."

In fact, it was a late Friday night in October, at an interstate Super 8 on the outskirts Colorado Springs that Carlos and Becky's innocent student/teacher/confidante relationship took a more sinister turn.

* * * * *

Over the course of that Summer and early Fall, Becky had found herself in a purely sexual relationship with the husband of one of her co-workers. Mitch Kraft was the Husband of Alysia Kraft, Becky's teaching partner in the high school English Department and of all of her fellow teachers, her closest friend.

Sensing earlier that year that the Montclaire marriage was on the rocks, Mitch and Alysia had provided Becky with a safe haven when she needed a break from things at home. With Becky's self esteem in the gutter and Mitch fumbling through a mid-life crises of his own, the increased time Becky spent at the Kraft's brought her and Mitch closer in ways neither ever intended.

Over the course of those four months, Mitch and Becky found themselves shacking up at various motels before Becky separated from her Husband and then at Becky's townhouse when she finally got a place of her own, each working out their separate esteem issues while they shared the same bed.

Alysia Kraft was totally oblivious, if not outright blind, to the affair going on behind her back until much later.

* * * * *

Less than 2 hours after Mitch had hooked up with Becky at the Super 8 that fateful Friday night, they had already fucked each other three times and Mitch was ready for a shower. His sense of sexual worth satisfied for the moment, Mitch invited Becky to join him in the shower to wash of the undeniable stench of raw sex that coated each from head to toe.

Turning up the bottom of her 6th rum and Coke of the night, Becky wearily smiled up to her co-worker's Husband from the bed and told Mitch she'd join him after making a quick trip down the hall to refill the ice container.

Forsaking the bra and blouse that Mitch had briskly ripped off her chest when the two got to the motel room, Becky simply slipped on her pants and the jean jacket she had worn, grabbed the room key and made the short trip around the corner to get some ice for drink number 7.

Feeling awkwardly naked as her bare breasts rubbed against in the denim inner lining of her jacket, Becky felt a strange jolt of sexual arousal course through her nerve fibers as she casually said 'hello' to the motel patrons she encountered in the corridor.

"They're all strangers anyway," Becky thought to herself with a coy laugh. "All stopped on the interstate for the night ...no one here is going to recognize me...Hell...I bet some of them are up to the same exact thing I am," Becky continued to internally ramble as she patiently took her place in line behind a tall man bent over getting ice from the humming machine in front of her.

Rubbing her hands together, trying her best not to look as anxious as she really was to get her mouth around another Rum and Coke, Becky found herself watching the guy's bent over rear end as he forcefully dug through the ice.

Already aroused from an evening of great sex, Becky found herself blushing at the sight of the well sculpted behind, less than 2 feet in front of her face.

"I promise I wont make eye contact with him when he turns around...I'm sure I'm not hiding my glow very well right now," Becky promised herself as she continued to gawk and wait.

Looking briefly over to her left at the pictures hanging on the motel's hallway wall, Becky was sure she could see the radiant glow of post orgasmic bliss washed across her devilishly smiling face in the distorted reflection. Swaying in place, lost in her own personal dream world, it took the man in front of her to say her name three times before Becky Montclaire even realized her life had been inexorably rocked.

"Mrs. Montclaire...Mrs. Montclaire...Mrs. Montclaire...," the familiar male voice echoed distantly. "How are You?"

Turning around, feeling her drowsy drunkenness for the first time of the night, Becky looked up at Carlos Vargas towering above her with a full ice bucket in his right hand.

"I'm...I'm...fine," Becky blankly replied.

The two stared at each other for nearly twenty seconds without saying a word, each trying to internally process the consequences of their ill-timed and ill-placed meeting.

Slowly, it dawned on both Carlos and Becky why a married woman and a high school student would be roaming the hallways on an interstate motel, in the town where they both lived. With no clue how to vocalize their rabid and scathing thoughts, each quickly bowed their heads and tried to disengage from the awkward situation.


Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 1



Tucking his full ice bucket under his arm like a chilly football, Carlos attempted to clumsily work his way past his stunned teacher.

"Good...good night...Mrs.Montclaire, " Carlos's voice trailed off as he made his way down the hall to the high school girl he had shacked up with for the night, leaving Becky all alone with her swirling and confused thoughts. 

"What just happened?" the drunk, middle aged woman mouthed over and over as she watched Carlos disappear around the corner.

* * * * *

That same question echoed through Carlos's head for the rest of the night at the motel as well. Even as he had his way several more times with the drunk and stoned teenage slut he had brought to the motel for the night, Carlos mentally fixated on the disheveled look Becky Montclaire had when he had bumped into her, the way her long stringy hair was messed up and matted, the way her braless breasts bounced around inside her jacket each time she tried to breath and most of all, the unmistakable scent of feminine arousal that he caught a whiff of when he scooted past her with the full ice bucket.

Needing a smoke at a few minutes after 7 the next morning, Carlos dragged his sexually gratified body out from under the covers and walked over to the room's window for a three Newport breakfast.

As Carlos lit into his second smoke, something caught his eye wandering through the early morning light of the Super 8's parking lot. Watching as a drowsy and hastily dressed male figure emerged from the motel's office, Carlos halfheartedly followed the man's brief journey until his eyes widened at the gentleman's eventual destination.

"Holy...Shit," Carlos whispered in his thickly accented English, blindly tapping his Newport ashes onto the carpet below as he recognized Becky Montcalire's side profile standing next to the guy's car.

"That sure ain't her Husband," Carlos calmly assessed, vividly remembering the family portrait that his teacher kept on her desk at school.

Carlos intently watched as Becky and the strange men each stole a glance to both sides to make sure no one was staring at them before kissing each other goodbye. 

"This changes things," Carlos thought to himself as he smoked his third cigarette, watching as Becky and her lover departed in separate vehicles. A strange sense of confusion and untapped euphoria swept through Carlos's veins as he turned and sized up the snoring girl sleeping under the covers. Mashing what was left of his Newport out, Carlos returned to bed to wake up his Bitch for the night, hoping to fuck her twice more before their late morning checkout.

* * * * *

Yawning as she shook her head slowly side to side, Andrea continued to absorb the outlandish details of the case that she would have to try in less than a week. Jabbing the knuckles of both fists into her eye sockets, Andrea tried jolting herself awake long enough so she could pour over the evidence one last time before bed.

Exploring further, Andrea discovered that three weeks after Carlos and Becky's awkward Friday night meeting at the motel, Carlos had found himself in trouble with the law. Having decided to spend the evening with one of the girls he had been fooling around with from school, both young lovers were busted when the girl's parents returned home early from their night out.

Outraged when they stumbled upon their daughter engaged in such behavior on the sofa in the basement, the girl's parents were disgusted even further when they saw their angel involved with someone of Carlos's heritage. Immediately on the phone to the police, less than an hour later, Carlos was in custody for suspicion of theft.

If it wasn't for the fact Carlos was already on probation for helping with a car theft a year and a half earlier, the cops would have probably blown off the incident and let the young man go. When the girl's Mother told the police that some of her silverware was missing however, the cops responding to the call decided to take Carlos downtown.

Desperately not wanting to disturb his mother at work with his quandary, Carlos thought of another option out of the blue.

"Can I call one of my teachers?" Carlos asked the police, suddenly remembering how Becky Montclaire had told the students in her class several times that if there was ever a time they needed her, she would be there for them.

Initially hesitant to come into town to bail Carlos out, Becky's guilt and sympathy quickly won out and less than 20 minutes after the call she was headed to the nearest ATM machine to get the money to free Carlos for the night.

"He knows about your affair...he's gonna hold it over you," a hauntingly paranoid voice inside Becky's head warned even though the memory of what happened that night at the Super 8 didn't even flash back in Carlos's mind until he was in Becky's passenger seat, headed home.

The silence between the Becky and Carlos, as they drove on, was the fertile impetus needed for the two to slowly start opening up, this time in the privacy of a car instead of the confines of a school classroom. Truth and honesty are very difficult things to conceal during times of catharsis and before they knew it, Becky and Carlos had driven around Colorado Springs three times, pouring out their souls.

With the digital clock on Becky's CD player reading 12:58 and her gas needle nearly on E, Becky pulled her car into the parking space in front of the townhouse she had rented when she separated from her husband. Sitting there behind the wheel for nearly 5 minutes beside Carlos, Becky experienced a vague and debilitating sense of detachment as she pondered the inevitable. 

Within 30 minutes, the tawdry, indecent and illegal affair between teacher and student had been consummated twice. From there on, nearly a year and a half worth of drugs, sex, money, and cars and been swapped and shared between the two until it was very difficult to determine who the real victim, if there was one, really was.

* * * * *

The irony of ironies in the whole ordeal, as Andrea read on, was how Becky and Carlos's relationship finally came to light.

A little over a year after Becky and Carlos had initiated their affair, Becky's co-worker, friend, and wife of the man she had also been fooling around with, Alysia Kraft had been out late running errands and decided on the spur of the moment to return several computer manuals Becky had lent her a few weeks earlier. Not even thinking about calling ahead to see if Becky was home, Alysia pulled into Becky's apartment complex and parked in the visitors lot. Grabbing the materials she wanted to return, Alysia routinely got out of her car and started the 50 yard walk to Becky's front door.

About halfway to Becky's, Alysia approached the gate that separated the exterior and interior of the apartment complex and saw there was a light on inside her friend's living room.

"Good...she's home," Alysia said as she picked up her pace.

Just as she was about to let herself through the gate, the distant sound of giggling and water splashing caught Alysia's attention.

"Somebody playing in the swimming pool," Alysia sighed reassuringly. 

Feeling her stomach roll slightly, as if she were intruding on someone's moment of intimate privacy, Alysia still mustered the courage to steal a peek to her right at the darkened and fenced in pool area.

Sparked by her natural human voyeuristic curiosity, Alysia tried to focus her eyes through the darkness to catch a glimpse of the romantically frolicking couple, 25 years down the hill.

"Lucky them," Alysia said to herself, tasting a mix of jealousy and admiration on her tongue as the faceless pair embraced below.

Deciding she had gawked long enough, Alysia turned and resumed her gallop towards Becky's house.

"Anyone Home?" Alysia asked in a conversational tone as she knocked three times on the front door.

Waiting several seconds for any sound of stirring to come from inside, Alysia knocked again and then rang the door bell.

"Maybe she's in the shower," Alysia thought out loud as she waited fruitlessly for another 30 seconds.

Checking her wrist watch, Alysia contemplated ringing the doorbell once more but decided that it was getting late and she could just give Becky the manuals the next day at school.

Turning back towards the same way she came, Alysia purposefully tried to keep her head bowed as she eased down the sidewalk, hoping she wouldn't be noticed as she passed by the lovers playing in the pool.

Her curiosity being too great however, Alysia slipped behind a large oak tree and stole a guilty, but extended, glance at the two shadowy figures intertwined in the water.

"Damn," Alysia jealously whispered. "Mitch and I haven't fucked in over a month...and here these folks are doing it right in the middle of the pool...right in the middle of all these houses."

Instinctively biting her tongue and holding her breath so she wouldn't make any noise, the muffled sounds of the voices below slowly started to register inside Alysia's head.

A multitude of "Mmmmss...yeahhhss...ahhhhss...shittss...and fucckksss...," rippled back and forth through the quiet night air until the familiar strains of one of the voices settled like an unsteady malaise into Alysia's senses.

"Becky...you lucky dog," Alysia laughed to herself, brimming with good humor that her friend and co-worker had been fortunate enough to hook up with some guy who was obviously showing her a good time.

Standing behind the tree, blushing like a teenager now, Alysia prepared to leave and give Becky all the privacy she needed when another cold realization hit Alysia in the belly like a point blank cannon shot.

Intermingled between the sounds of water splashing and Becky's moans of pleasure was another voice, a Latin tinged accent that struck a nerve with Alysia.

"...Carlos...Becky...Carlos," Alysia muttered over and over, feeling sicker each time that names dripped like motor oil from her tongue, knowing that her 40 year old friend was not only committing career suicide but partaking in something that could also land her substantial time in jail.

* * * * *

"Thank God someone finally blew the whistle," Andrea Bell said out loud as she came to the end of the case report. "If Alysia hadn't done that who knows how long the affair would have dragged out."

On the other hand, Andrea also knew that Alysia Kraft's credibility could be very difficult too maintain on the stand considering Becky Montcalire was also having an affair with Alysia's Husband, Mitch.

Andrea knew Becky's defense lawyer would have an easy time getting the jury's attention with that tidbit of information and it was her job as the prosecutor to make sure she reminded the 12 men and women that would decide the case that Alysia didn't find out about the affair between Becky and Mitch until AFTER she had turned Becky in for fooling around with the student.

"How in the Hell am I ever going to win this?" Andrea wearily moaned as she folded up the case file and tossed it down with a thud, on the coffee table in front of her.

"The damn kid is 19 now...cold...heartless... certainly no angel...no honest person could look at him and say he's a victim. The jury will want to acquit...they'll see she's as guilty as sin...there's no denying that...they'll probably even take her license so she'll never teach again...but she'll never spend a day in jail and that's what the brass at the office wants to see...I feel like I'm on trial more than anyone," the pessimist in Andrea's head fearfully prognosticated as she dejectedly stared at the scattered papers below.

"If this was the other way around...a male teacher and a female student...I could win this case blindfolded...but this is going to take work... and a lot of luck,," Andrea sighed, looking down at her daily planner to see she had a meeting scheduled with Carlos Vargas in three days, at his apartment, for a testimony prep session to get him ready for the start of the trial.

"That should be a lot of fun," Andrea mumbled sarcastically, knowing the only way to even have a remote chance of winning the case would be to have the victim of the crime look even a little sympathetic.

"I know one thing...I need a hot bath before I even think about going to bed," Andrea's inner rationality demanded as she launched her sweat pant and tee-shirt clad body off the sofa and winded her way to the bathroom to freshen up for the night.

* * * * *

**Author Note...

Due to space constraints on my system, the size of the documents I send is limited...thus part 1 of this story is basically background...trust me though...there's plenty of sex in the following parts. 

Also...I would have dearly loved to include the graphic descriptions of the affair between Carlos and Becky but due to the rules of the sites that this story is posted, it simply wasn't permissible. That's where your imagination as a reader comes in I guess...thanks for your patronage and patience and I hope you enjoy the coming parts...take care...Stardog 



Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 2



After a long hot bath that went a long way towards calming her nerves, Andrea took a couple of sips of brandy after slipping on her pajamas for bed. 

Curling up under the covers and switching off the lamp to her right, as soon as the room went dark, the deep and foreboding angst about the Montclaire case slipped back into the forefront of Andrea's thoughts. 

"You've got to get some sleep... you've got to get your mind off the case... even if its just for a few hours... it'll take care of itself... whatever the outcome," Andrea scolded herself as she fidgeted under the sheets. 

Desperate to get her mind off the pending trial, even if just for long enough until she could fall asleep, Andrea's eyes inevitably locked onto the picture on her nightstand of her ex-husband, Chuck. 

"SHIT... You would have to be sitting there smiling at my misery," Andrea exhaustedly moaned as if Chuck were actually kneeling there beside the bed. 

The fact that Andrea Bell still had a portrait of her ex-husband beside her bed despite the reality of being divorced for almost 2 years was something she wasn't particularly proud of. 

"I keep it there so my son doesn't forget what his bastard of a Father looks like," Andrea would frequently tell herself even though the only two places she had pictures of Chuck was in her bedroom and on her desk at work, two locations her son Cody, rarely saw. 

It was, instead, a clear and defining insight into what made Andrea Bell tick. Having struggled for everything she had accomplished in her short life, Andrea had become use, almost addicted to conflict. It was why she decided to go to law school. She had discovered somewhere along the way that she felt a vague emptiness inside of her when there wasn't something amiss. That feeling of emptiness was punctuated when she made the final step of dissolving her marriage. 

She knew deep down that keeping the picture of Chuck there to see before she fell asleep every night was, in a way, to remind her that she had made the right decision to leave him, that behind his smiling facade, that behind any man's smiling facade, lies the heart of a liar and a cheat. 

Still, as she laid there trying her damndest to ignore the lure of Chuck's dark haunting eyes, Andrea could feel her willpower gradually sliding down a slippery slope. 

"Close your eyes... and go to sleep," a distant, almost inaudible voice begged inside of Andrea's head. 

"In a second... " she whispered like a mesmerized child. " I will... in just a second."

That's when Andrea's delirium from a long day of work combined with her biting inner demons, causing her to lapse into a moment of pained but predictable delusion. The hazy but unmistakable image of the blonde secretary her ex-husband had stolen away with filtered like a radioactive glow inside Andrea's minds eye. 

Nancy Minton was her name and if it wasn't for the fact that Andrea had an ounce of self control when she discovered the affair, she would have scratched the witch's ocean blue eyes out a long time ago. 

Grazing her fingers, first across the smooth skin of her waist, then through the soft but dense wisps of her chestnut brown pubes, Andrea's index and middle finger slipped into the buttery and boiling cauldron of her womb. 

"MMM... PPHHAAHH," the 31 year old attorney moaned bitterly. "I... aah... ahh... just need to take the edge off."

"No way I can fall asleep unless I get rid of some of this damn tension," she rationalized as her right hand churned between her pale, trim thighs. 

"Its just to help me fall asleep," Andrea lied as she watched the hallucinogenic interplay between Chuck and his blonde mistress, at the same time she burrowed her hand like a spade into her foaming crotch. 

"Its just a stress release... that's all... just to help me wind down from a long day," a self loathing Andrea tried convincing herself, knowing internally that these attempts at gratification would play out many times over, in the months and years to come, if she didn't find a way to rise above it. 

Squinting her eyes in the dark, trying her best to focus her sight on the fuzzy image of Chuck and Nancy embracing to her right, Andrea swirled her energized fingers like talons through her cunt until the moist vibrations of her lewd act echoed wetly through the room. 

"MMMM... yeahhh," Andrea hoarsely whispered, seeing Chuck's hazy shadow cast her a sneering gaze while Nancy continued to lick and bite at his neck. 

"You sonofabitch," Andrea hurtfullly spat at him. "I know your fucking her tonight... I just know your fucking that BITCH... And I'm stuck here... having to do this myself... FUCK YOU...... FUCK... YYYOOUUU!"

Keeping her eyes galvanized on the photo, Andrea wrenched her wrist wildly as the foggy image of Nancy making love to Chuck took on a 3 dimensional quality. 

"Goddammittt... ahhh... ahhhh... aaahhhhyyeezzzzzz," Andrea cried out, helpless to watch the imagined coupling as her knees started to flap like butterfly wings under the covers. 

"You're with her tonight... I know it... and I know what your doing to her... dammittt Chuck... ahhh... aaahhmmmmmmmfuckkk," Andrea hissed, thrashing her hips off the mattress manically as she pictured her Ex fucking the Hell out of his blonde mistress, each of them now naked, their bodies intertwined on Andrea's former marital bed, on the same flannel sheets she and Chuck picked out a few months after they were married. 

"NOOOO," Andrea winced, her entire psyche filling with shame as the wasps of her depraved lust planted their stingers up and down the length of her twisting spine. 

"NNNOOOOOOOOAAAAHH... CANT STOP MYSELF... FFFFFUUCCKKKKKKKKIINN CCCUUUMMMIIINNNGGGGGG," the 31 year old, hapless divorcee screamed out, biting her teeth down hard on the pillow beside her as the acid stained image of Chuck injecting his scalding seed into Nancy's cunt played like an Imax film inside Andrea's tortured mind. 

Her hand still wedged between her thighs, less than 5 minutes after her bone crushing and guilt-laden orgasm, Andrea Bell was dead to the world. After reaching over to the nightstand and turning the picture of Chuck face down, she had immediately fallen asleep, safe in the knowledge that at some point the next morning she would turn the picture of her Ex back up, only to repeat the process again and again in the nights to come. 

* * * * *

The brisk breeze of late afternoon chilled Andrea to her core as she rubbed her goose pimpled flesh to keep warm. Walking the streets of one of Colorado Springs' less picturesque neighborhoods for her scheduled meeting with a now 19 year old Carlos Vargas, Andrea knew the only way to win the case would be to prep him as best she could. 

Fighting the constant gusts that rippled in from the North, a visibly anxious Andrea kept her left hand down against the hem of her knee length business skirt, praying the wind wouldn't cause it to ride up with so many down-on-their-luck onlookers watching on. 

Double-checking the scrap piece of paper she had written Carlos's address on, Andrea let out a deep sigh of relief when she came upon the graffiti laced building Carlos lived. 

"I hope he's home," Andrea mumbled as she hurried inside, not wanting to spend a minute longer in the rundown complex than she had to. 

After making her way up the litter strewn staircase to Carlos's second floor apartment, Andrea knocked on the door three times waiting for a response. She was sure she could hear someone scooting around inside as she alternated lifting her heels off the floor, hoping they wouldn't get stuck on the strangely sticky surface below. 

Andrea almost opened her mouth and said, "I hear you in there" but decided against it, fearing the nervous lump in her throat would cause her words to croak out. 

"Fuck," Andrea groaned to herself as she knocked again. "I'm in no mood to play these games."

Deciding her only option might be to take out a post-it note and leave Carlos a message on his door, just as Andrea was about to reach into her purse for a pen, the sounds of several male voices caused her to freeze. 

"One of those voices is Carlos," a voice inside her head warned, recognizing the boy's thick and brooding accent. 

A wave of combined anxiety and relief shot through the prosecutor's veins as she tethered in place, waiting for the voices to reach the top of the stairs. 

"I must have just been hearing things from inside," Andrea told herself reassuringly. 

Gripping both her hands tightly around her purse, Andrea tried to look as professional as possible when Carlos, and his buddies from the roofing company where he worked, drifted around the corner and closed in. 

Andrea instantly felt her insides start to churn when all four men's eyes locked onto her while she stood like a nervous female pup in front of Carlos' door. 

"This isn't going to be a lot of fun," Andrea moaned internally as the four sweaty and grimy men approached. 

"Mrs. Bell," Carlos pleasantly growled, in an obvious attempt to impress his friends that he knew the immaculately dressed woman. 

"Who is this?" one of Carlos' friends suggestively quizzed. 

Just for an instant, Andrea shuddered in horror, expecting Carlos to boisterously reply, "She's my new Bitch" or something as derogatory but to her everlasting thanks, Andrea watched as Carlos bit down on his thick lower lip before replying, "She's just the chick from the D. A. 's office... she's here to get me straight for that trial I got next week."

"Fine piece of ass either way," one of the men coughed under his breath behind Carlos' back, just loud enough to bring a blushing rash to Andrea's pale cheeks. 

Her blood pressure rising slightly, Andrea rolled her tongue around her mouth as she tried composing herself. 

"We could... kind of... use some privacy Carlos... we have a lot to get to," Andrea soberly asked the 19 year old young man she had come to visit. 

"Can't we come in... just for one beer," several of Carlos' friends chided. 

"... Nah guys... I did promise her some of my time... I'll get back with you'll later," Carlos promised. 

"They need some... privacy huh," one of the roofers insinuated before each turned, wished Carlos well and jovially departed. 

"Quite a bunch," Andrea tried to amiably say to which Carlos gave no reply, simply brushing past the older white woman and slipping his key into the lock. 

"This shouldn't... take long," Andrea promised as the whiff of air from Carlos pushing the door open swept across her face. 

Following the young man's lead, Andrea disappeared inside the shabby, one bedroom apartment and was almost immediatly overtaken by the aroma of recently smoked pot. 

"Could this case get any more difficult than it already is?" Andrea haplsssly asked herself as she dodged the litter and strewn clothes that covered Carlos' living room floor. 

So worried that she'd step in something messy on the floor, or worse yet trip, Andrea kept her head bowed as she entered Carlos' humble residence. When she finally felt she was on solid enough ground, Andrea peeked her brown eyes up and her heart nearly stopped when she saw a girl laying on one of the sofas in front of her. 

"UHH," Andrea gulped, catching herself before she groaned out loud. 

"Why didn't you answer the door when I knocked?" Andrea asked Carlos' scantily clad girlfriend, with polite indignation. 

Rolling his eyes as he tried to diffuse the tensing situation, Carlos raised his right hand into the air to stop his girlfriend Carmen from rising possessively from her seat to confront Andrea. 

"Sit down Carmen and check yourself... this is the lady I told you about from the D. A. 's office that was gonna stop by," Carlos said the perturbed young Puerto Rican girl. 

"Ms. Bell... sorry about Carmen not answering the door... I've been having some problems with a few people and I told her if she's here alone not to answer the door if somebody knocks."

"That's OK," Andrea replied, shaking her head up and down to convey her understanding, and hopefully build up a level of trust with Carlos. 

"Do you think we could... uhh... have some privacy?" Andrea hesitantly asked, sensing Carmen was guarding her turf now like a female lioness. "I promise it will only take a few minutes."

"Yeah... no problem," Carlos replied. "First of all though... I need a shower... Carmen... keep the lady entertained until I get back... will ya... then make yourself scarce when I get back... OK?"

The girl, who couldn't be a day older than 18, cast a fiery stare back at her boyfriend as he strutted down the hall, then locked what venom she had left in her gaze at Andrea as she tentatively tried making herself comfortable on the sofa directly across from Carmen. 

The female prosecutor did the best she could not to make direct eye contact with Carlos' obviously jealous girlfriend despite the fact that an arms folded Carmen concentrated on her with laserlike heat and precision. 

Andrea said a private prayer of "Thank You" when Carmen finally gave up on trying to break her, got up from her seat and walked with a purpose past Andrea before sauntering down the hall then disappearing into the bathroom where Carlos was taking a shower. 

Left alone in the living room, Andrea casually sized up her messy surroundings as she tried her best to ignore what might be happening with Carmen and Carlos in the bathroom. 

The random shouting from whatever dysfunctional talk show Carmen had been watching shrieked from the television as Andrea perused the shabbily kept room. Staring down at the coffee table in front of her, the 31 year old divorcee's stomach turned when she saw the stacks of adult magazines lining the surface. 

"That's... ummm... yuck," Andrea groaned in disgust, remembering vividly how her Ex-Husband Chuck would occasionally bring home those types of magazines and leave them laying around the house. 

Shifting her gaze away from the coffee table, Andrea next looked down at the stacks of movie cassettes that rose like a crude rectangular mountain range on the floor beside the television. 

"Probably adult movies," Andrea guessed correctly as she internally asked herself how Carmen, or any woman for that matter, could put up with the man in their life immersing themselves in such filth. 

"She's barely 18... she probably doesn't have anywhere else to go," the rational part of Andrea's training reminded. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the hissing sound of the shower was muted when Carlos cut it off. 

"Maybe we can get somewhere now," Andrea moaned to herself as she thumbed through her notes. "I've been here what... 15 minutes now and haven't gotten past square one yet."

Stealing an involuntary glance over her left shoulder, down the hallway towards Carlos' bathroom, Andrea Bell's eyes rolled when she saw that the bathroom door was now swung almost half way open. 

"She didn't even close the door," Andrea fumed. "Carmen went in there with Carlos while he was taking a shower... and left the damn door open... no decency at all... like a common animal!"

The screeching sounds of Carlos peeling the shower curtain back caused Andrea to swing forward in her seat, desperately trying to ignore the teenage couple in the bathroom. 

"I oughtta just leave now... come back tomorrow," Andrea's inner voice trailed off as she found herself guiltily peeking back down the hall. 

"Jesus," the female attorney's mouth went agape before raising her right hand to cover it in shock. 

"She's... ," Andrea's mind raced, seeing the strands of Carmen's dark hair bounce back and forth between the crack in the door. "She's on... she's on her knees... and her head... her head... is bobbing up and down."

Instantly bowing her eyes in shame, the 31 year old woman squirmed in her seat as the faint slurping sounds coming from the bathroom gradually filtered down the hall. 

Holding her breath as a cold numbing chill went down her spine, it seemed that an eternity passed before Andrea finally heard Carlos' deep guttural growl of satisfaction from having Carmen sexually mark her territory. 

"I can't believe... this is happening," the stunned woman mumbled to herself as the bathroom door swung open and Carmen slipped out before disappearing into the bedroom. 

"She's doesn't... have any clothes... on," Andrea whispered, watching the young Puerto Rican girl's caramel colored asscheeks sway tightly back and forth as she closed the bedroom door behind her. 

A few moments after Carmen emerged from the bathroom, Carlos came out, still dripping wet and dressed in nothing but a pair of cut off sweat shorts and a sleeveless tee-shirt. 

Andrea's nostrils immediately filled with the potency of the cologne Carlos had splashed on as he passed by her to take his seat on the sofa where Carmen had just been sitting. As the scent of his cologne permeated in her senses, Andrea could also discern something else in the aroma. 

"You can smell the sex on him," a voice inside her head shuddered as the duel fragrances mingled in her brain. 

Not wanting to fixate on the weird feelings fluttering in her belly for a second longer, Andrea flipped open her notebook and tried her best to concentrate on the issues she needed to cover with Carlos. 

Before she could even get the first question out of her mouth, Andrea looked up when she instinctively sensed Carlos staring at her and saw him lift his right leg off the floor and extend it down the length of his ragged sofa. 

Andrea instantly felt her cheeks blush when she noticed the ridge of Carlos' half deflated penis under the cotton fabric of his sweat shorts and upon further inspection, the wet spot that dotted the center of it. 

"EEHHH," Andrea mumbled disgustedly, inherently knowing what the wet spot was a result of. 

Carlos patiently listened to everything Andrea had to say for a good 5 minutes, head in hand, as he leered back at the pretty woman sitting across from him. 

"Why is the State even prosecuting this case?" Carlos finally asked in a hushed and bored tone. 

"Because Becky Montclaire broke the law," Andrea replied with stern seriousness even though deep inside, she had asked herself that same question on a few occasions. "To keep her from ever doing anything like what she did to... you... with anyone else in the future."

"Trust me," Carlos laughed mockingly. "She won't do what she did with me with any other kids."

"What do you mean?" Andrea responded to Carlos' leading statement. 

"Nothing... don't worry about it," Carlos wryly answered. 

Sensing they were getting off track, Andrea cleared her throat and tried to reign in the conversation. Getting the facts of the case out of the 19 year old kid proved to be difficult however. On one hand, Andrea desperately needed Carlos to honestly support and convey the seedy details of the case, at the same time, having him do that would do little to paint him as any kind of sympathetic victim in the illicit affair. 

Seeing her chance of winning the case and, in a greater sense, her entire career spiraling towards the ground, Andrea momentarily lost herself in a fitful daze. Knowing the Montclaire trial was her first chance to be on a major stage, Andrea felt her temples start to throb at the thought of all the people who might see her fail, from her parents to her professors at Law School and worst of all, her Ex-husband Chuck and his new lover. 

"Him and that Bitch will be sitting there watching the news when I lose this case and all they will do is laugh" Andrea fought back her tears, knowing it was suddenly her turn to get back on task. 

"So how often did Becky supply you with drugs, Carlos?" Andrea breathlessly asked, for the moment content to focus on one of the strengths of her case. 

"Sometimes she would... sometimes I would... depending on how much money she was getting from her Ex every month," Carlos matter-of-factly answered. 




Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 2



"So you're saying there were times that Becky, in fact, willingly bought you cocaine?" Andrea asked, with full prosecutor inflection. 

"Yeah... there was this one time she did... she met me at one of my friend's house," Carlos laughed forcing Andrea to decide if she should stop him in mid sentence or let him continue. 

"Well you've finally gotten him to open up about the case, Dummy," Andrea scolded herself not knowing, in the end, she wouldn't be prepared for what she was about to hear. 

"I can't remember who exactly was there," Carlos continued. "It was at one of my girl's sister's apartment I think and we were all sitting around smoking some weed and sometime that night Becky paged me... we hadn't seen each other in a week or two... she had been all messed up on some of those prescriptions her shrink had her on... but she paged me and I called her back... she wanted to hook up. I told her I was having a good time... that I didn't feel like going out but she started crying and begging to see me. I told her if she went out and bought us all some blow that she could come over."

"To the sister's place," Andrea robotically interjected, keeping her head down as she took notes. 

"Yeah... but Becky was all worried about getting caught... she was really starting to get paranoid around that time... I told her either bring the coke or get lost... she was crying and shit but she finally agreed to, "Carlos calmly recited, staring directly at Andrea the whole time he told the story despite the fact that she kept her face buried in her notes. 

"Becky got there about an hour later... we all did a few lines and at some point she gets up and has to go upstairs to the bathroom... while Becky's up there... this girl... I think her name was Tina... I'm not sure... anyway... Tina comes over and gets down on her knees right between my legs... she had this glassy look in her eyes and I wasn't about to move... some of the other people there were just wide eyed and laughing when they saw her rip down my fly and pull my cock out."

A silent but visible concussion rippled through Andrea's body when Carlos said the word 'Cock". Her handwriting temporarily looked like a seismograph reading during an earthquake on the page she was taking notes on as Carlos' story took its crude twist. 

"You don't have to be so... graphic," Andrea tentatively interrupted, not daring to look up. 

"Oh... I'm sorry," Carlos sneered back. "So while this girl was sucking me off... Becky staggers back downstairs from the bathroom and she gets this beet red expression on her face when she sees Tina on her knees in front of me. I sort of looked at Becky as if to say... 'oh well' and then looked back down at this teenage slut trying to deep throat me... a few seconds later I heard this crashing kind of sound and looked up... sure enough Becky had fallen backwards and was half kneeling against the wall at the bottom of the steps with this horrified but fixated look on her face while she stared at Tina slob my knob."

By then Andrea had ceased taking notes. The tip of her pen motionlessly rested against the yellow notepad as she stewed in the same horrified fascination that Becky Montclaire had that night Carlos was so vividly describing. 

"That girl Tina... she was bobbing her head up and down on my crotch... and there Becky was... half collapsed on the other side of the room... her eyes all cobwebbed and blood shot and after a few seconds... you know what she did...?"

"... What," Andrea almost asked, before thankfully catching herself. 

"She dropped her right hand down to her crotch and started playing with her pussy through her God Damn pants... she was friggin' herself off while this young girl was sucking my cock like her life depended on it... then Becky raised her other hand and the Bitch started to pinch her nipples through her sweater... she was rollin' them and tweakin' them... it looked like everybody in the room was watching a fuckin' tennis match going back and forth between Tina giving me a blowjob on the couch and the fuckin' teacher... drunk and stoned against the wall... playing with herself while she watched... it was a real freakshow... some crazy shit!"

"Everyone in the room was stunned... breathless... in shock," Carlos continued. "I put my hand on the top of Tina's head, dug my fingers through her hair and started bouncing her face up and down like a basketball on my jock."

"Tina's slurping sounds were vibrating through the room but I kept my eyes on Becky the whole time... by then she had fallen all the way down on her ass like some drunk, trashy addict in some alleyway somewhere... friggin' herself through her pants until Tina finally made me shoot my load."

Andrea instantly clenched her eye lids shut and tensed every muscle in her lean body when Carlos graphically described how the teenage girl giving him the blowjob, made him cum. 

"My cock was shooting like a fuckin' cannon... over and over inside Tina's mouth... the jizz was drippin' out of each side of her mouth while she milked me dry and all I could do was look over Tina's shoulder... down at Becky on the floor and at some point I mouthed down to her... "Now that's how you suck a dick... Bitch'!

"I mean Becky was married for all that time... definitely had been around the block... had a bunch of kids... but a damn teenage girl from school gave better head than she did... didn't make any fuckin' sense... " 

* * * * *

Carlos' final comment penetrated Andrea's psyche like a flaming spear. Suddenly losing touch with her current state of reality, Andrea immediately drifted back in time, to a night several years earlier, when her then Husband, Chuck, had verbally berated her for not agreeing to have sex when he wanted. 

It had been 'that time of the month' for Andrea and having intercourse was completely out of the question. When Chuck had realized what the situation was, he bluntly asked his wife, "Why don't you just give me some head... your mouth ain't bleedin' is it?"

Chuck's gentlemanly and sensitive invitation not withstanding, to stop an all out altercation, Andrea slide down to give her husband what he had, not so subtly, asked for. 

It had been perhaps the worst two minutes of her life and by the time Chuck had violently shot his wad in Andrea's mouth, the salty and slimy taste of his ejaculate had literally made her stomach turn. 

Retching as she rolled back over after completing her perceived duty as his wife, the brutal words that followed were just like daggers to her heart as Chuck put his deflated cock back in his boxers. 

"That was real... passionate... Andrea... that's really the way to put your heart into it," Chuck snipped with bitter sarcasm, jerking the covers over his body and off of his wife's. "I could have got better head from a God Damn mannequin!"

Hearing Carlos talk about Becky in such raw and stark terms immediately caused Andrea to fill with a cesspool of self loathing as she internally blamed herself for the dissolution of her failed marriage. 

* * * * *

By the time Andrea was able to overcome her temporary but painful personal flashback, Carlos had continued with his sordid account of what happened in the apartment that night with Becky and several of his friends. 

"Yeah... after Tina sucked me dry... I'm just sitting there rubbin' my balls as she's shakily trying to stand up... her whole chin and neck was an awfully sticky mess... I hadn't gotten off for a few days and I just lost control... thankfully she was able to swallow most of it but she looked like she had missed trying to drink a milkshake with all my jizz still dripping down her chin," Carlos grinned in a cocky, nearly monotone voice, knowing that the older woman across from him was now too stunned to move. 

"Well... Tina finally got up and got herself back over to the coffee table where one of the guys had got her a line of coke ready... while Tina's staggering back over there... I look back at Becky... and the freaky bitch is now on her knees... crawling like a wayward little baby across the carpet... her eyes were all plastered and blood shot... as she got closer to me... I could see the drool on her chin... her freakin' hair was a mess and she was wobbling like someone was underneath the floor making it shake... I started tapping my cock again as she got closer... and by the time I could get a whiff of that cheap perfume she always wore... my cock was all the way hard again," Carlos pridefully exclaimed, tapping his growing erection right then through his shorts for good measure as Andrea squirmed helplessly in her seat. 

"I can hear Tina sniffing her line beside me at the same time the floor started to vibrate slightly at my feet from Becky got closer... before I knew it... the stoned Bitch had put her hands on my knees to support herself as she tried to drag herself up... she looked like a damn clown with her smeared makeup and messed up hair... her arms were all quivering... but she finally got herself up far enough that she could start pulling her pants down," Carlos matter-of-factly described. 

"All my boys were sitting to my right and each of them had this shit eating grin on their face watching Becky awkwardly rip and pants and panties down her legs... by the time she got them all the way down to her ankles and I caught sight and a good whiff of that sloppy pussy of hers... my dick was all the way hard again... twitching in the air... she had fucked me so many times by then... she instinctively knew what was the best angle to try and mount me at... so she's trying to shift her crotch just right on top of me and I'm having to hold her by the waist so she doesn't topple over... finally she got that cunt of hers positioned right and I felt my dick disappear inside of her like a machete through melted butter."

Carlos remained silent for a few moments, wallowing in the temporary dearth of sound as Andrea shuddered noticeably on the opposite sofa. Sensing the attorney's body language begging for him to continue, Carlos softly tapped his rigid cock again through his sweatshorts before resuming his story. 

"By the time Becky had straddled her legs across mine and shoved my cock inside her pussy... she was so high... drunk... and turned on... it didn't take long before she was spent... I just sat there and smacked her titties around through her sweater as she humped me... Next thing I know... I feel her cunt explode and all of the sudden all this warm clear greasy shit is spewing all over my cock... she came in like less than a minute!"

"She's swaying side to side... her head is bobbing up and down and just like that... her whole body goes limp... her freakin' face crashes right down against my chest and she starts crying... getting her drool and tears all over my shirt... I can hear this low... churning moan coming from deep inside her body... I scooted my ass up a little and wrapped my hands around her waist... it was just like lifting dead weight off the top of my thighs... I lifted Becky into the air and dropped her flat on her back on the floor."

"That's when the girl... Tina... who had given me the great blowjob a few minutes earlier... she got up from the coffee table and brushed the hair out of her eyes... then staggered over to where Becky was sprawled out on the floor... Tina got down on her knees and crawled between the teacher's legs and just like that... I didn't have to tell her to do it or nothin'... Tina was between Becky's legs and started eating that messy and used pussy out while the rest of us guys just sat back and watched... like I said Mrs. Bell... it was some pretty wild shit!!"

Finishing his story, Carlos capped his description of that night's events by cracking a wide smirking smile as he waited for Andrea to make the next move. 

The shell-shocked attorney just sat there, looking as if she had just been put through a triathlon even though she hadn't left her seat. Andrea's thighs remained tightly wedged together as she desperately fought the urge to reach down and quell the hive-like buzz radiating between them. 

"He's gotta be... gotta be... making all that up," Andrea's stunned inner voice silently whispered. 

"Either way... I... I think I'm gonna throw up," that same desperate inner voice groaned suddenly. 

"Carl... Carlos... do you... have a... bathroom... I could use?" Andrea unsteadily asked, signaling that the trial prep session was officially over before it had barely gotten started. 

"Yeah... its right down the hall... you can't miss it," Carlos smiled incredulously, not believing the depth of which he had affected the female lawyer. 

Never before had Carlos seen such a complicated mix of sickened arousal in one woman's reaction as he had with Andrea as she hurriedly stood up, demurely covered her mouth and scooted down the hall in her size too small business skirt. 

Still seated on his sofa, the 19 year old boy tapped his cock lightly, watching the way Andrea's slim hips jittered noticeably as she made her way to the bathroom. The already noticeably twinkle in Carlos' eyes shined even brighter with satisfaction when he felt the vibration of Andrea slamming the door shut behind her. 

* * * * *

As soon as she was able to close the door and lock herself in the cramped privacy of Carlos' still foggy and humid bathroom, Andrea dropped her hands down to her belly as she tethered on the edge of throwing up. Feeling her stomach roughly roll several times, Andrea kept taking deep breaths until the queasiness subsided enough that she knew she could keep down her lunch. 

Desperately needing to sit down and collect her thoughts, Andrea turned, rolled her pantyhose all the way down to her ankles, lifted up her skirt and took a seat on the toilet. 

Thankful for a moment of privacy, Andrea put her elbow on her right thigh and placed her chin inside her palm like Rodan's Thinker for several minutes as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. 

"He did that on purpose," Andrea instinctively told herself, despite pleas to the contrary from her rational mind. 

"You told him to tell you that story Andrea... that's exactly the type of information you need to show how out of control Becky Montclaire really was... that's the type of material you need to win this case... if you can't handle hearing the graphic details... that's your problem," it scolded. 

"Just let me pee... then splash some cold water on my face... and then I'll be ready to go home... get in bed... lay in the dark and start from scratch tomorrow," Andrea imagined reassuringly. 

Taking more deep breaths as she peed, Andrea's wandering eye focused on a clump of discarded clothes strewn across the floor to her left. Feeling just how parched her throat had become when she tried to swallow, Andrea immediately recognized the clothes as the ones Carmen was wearing before she joined Carlos in the shower. 

"Damn... I remember when I use to be able to fit in panties that small," Andrea told herself. 

"No you don't," her inner honesty immediately rebuked. 

Turning her attention away from Carmen's messy pile of clothes, Andrea finished taking care of business and prepared to get up and wash her hands. Before she could stand up however, something numbing and intangible caused her to remain seated. 

Gracefully leaning forward, Andrea supported her weight on her high heels as her petite backside gently lifted off the rim of the toilet. Carefully flaring her left hand out, the 31 year old brunette made a grasping stab for the pile of discarded clothing. 

"Why... are... you... doing... this?" Andrea heard a voice inside her head pointedly ask. "Have you lost your mind?"

Deciding it wasn't the time or the place to answer those questions of herself, Andrea felt a vague but definite charge sizzle through the tendons of her arm when she closed her fingertips around Carmen's beige panties. 

"God... they're... they're... a... thong," Andrea whispered, having seen those types of panties in magazines and at lingerie stores, but never dared to buy for herself. 

Curling her index finger around the spaghetti strapped backside of the undergarment, Andrea inched backwards until her rear end was safely planted on the toilet once again. 

"They're so... so... small... and her hips... her hips were so... big... how in the world could Carmen ever fit into these," Andrea wondered aloud, for the moment unaware of the rekindled buzz between her legs. 

Balancing the tips of her high heels on the bathroom floor, Andrea tenderly rolled her fingers across the silky and stretchy material until she could feel Carmen's feminine scent absorbing into her pores. 

"Put... them... down," Andrea's inner sense ordered but she just couldn't seem to let the beige panties go. 

"Jeessuss," Andrea gasped quietly, noticing a couple of coal black curly wisps scattered inside the panties. "That's a couple of her pubic hairs."

Dropping the scant weight of the panties on her bare left thigh, a numbing shockwave crested throughout Andrea's entire body as she shifted her weight on top of the toilet. Folding her right arm in towards her body, Andrea subtly stretched her feet apart, allowing enough of an alley so that she could slip her right hand between her quivering thighs. 

"Goddamnit Andrea... you're not about to do this," that same inner voice begged as her blue high heels began to shiver and tap up and down on the floor. 

"Carmen came in here to mark her territory when she saw you... she came in here while Carlos was in the shower... she took off her tee-shirt... peeled off her shorts and pulled down these panties that you have draped across your thigh right now... them she dropped down to her knees and gave Carlos... a... a... a... blowjob... and she made sure to keep the door half open so she'd know that you'd see her do it... and then she'd didn't even have the decency to put her clothes back on when she walked out and went into the bedroom," Andrea internally mumbled. 

"And now here you are with those same panties in your left hand while your... your... right is doing that to your pussy... what in the Hell are you thinking?"

It was another question Andrea didn't have the fortitude to answer. 

"AARRGGHHH," she moaned out, biting her lower lip, praying her moans of guilty pleasure wouldn't be heard on the other side of the door as she dug at her moist, glistening quim. 

"JJEEZZUUSS... MMM, Andrea helplessly mewed as the foundation of the commode started to rock underneath her. 

The movie screen inside Andrea's head changed scenes at a blinding pace. First picturing the lewd details Carlos had described about his night with Becky and the teenage girl, then the brief glance she caught minutes earlier of Carmen leaving nakedly from the bathroom and finally, intermingled with everything else she had experienced in the past 30 minutes, all the demons she fought in her personal life, all came snipping at her as she frigged herself behind Carlos' bathroom door. 

"I've... just got to... get... some relief... that's all... just got to make... this burning... go... away," Andrea begged in a coughing, unbridled gasp. 

Her lithe body rocking side to side on the top of the toilet seat, Andrea grinded the flimsy material of Carmen's thong panties into her pale left thigh as she desperately inhaled. 

Every time Andrea sucked in a fresh dose of oxygen, she couldn't help but absorb the traces of feminine scent coming off of Carmen's discarded underwear as she kneaded the soft garment between her long thin fingers. 

Poking at her clitoris with her extended and rigid index finger, Andrea flared out her middle digit like a miniature spear and used it to penetrate the tight pink walls of her aching vagina. 

With a haze of electrical bursts exploding inside her brain each time her fingers smacked at her liquefied pussy, Andrea raised her left arm in a series of fits and starts until the miniscule amount of silky fabric that constituted Carmen's removed panties dangled right in front of her contorting face. 




Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 2



Layered beneath the fitful hacks of her distended breathing, Andrea cringed when she heard the faint dripping sounds coming from underneath her. Looking down between her seated thighs, Andrea could see her own honey like secretions oozing out of her cunt and dripping straight down into the bowl below. 

"EEEWWWWW," Andrea hurriedly groaned, for several moments losing sight that Carlos was on the sofa down the hall and Carmen was in the bedroom, just on the other side of the wall behind her. 

"SSSHITT... SSHHIITT... MMMMMMMSSHHIITTYYYESSS," Andrea crumpled as her body finally let go. 

Pistoning her right elbow at an ungodly angle, Andrea finger fucked her cunt until her body went limp on top of the toilet. 

All four of Andrea's limbs twitched crazily and each one of her nerve endings screamed from release as she carefully pulled her greasy right hand free from her crotch at the same time she tossed Carmen's damp panties back down on the floor where she had found them. 

Wobbling on her high heels like a arthritic older woman as she tried to stand, Andrea slowly pulled her pantyhose back up and checked herself in the mirror before she dared walk back outside. 

"You cant even look yourself in the eyes... can you?" Andrea asked herself in shame. "Just get the Hell out of this apartment... get home and start working on your trial notes... let gets this case over with before its the death of us."

Stealing one last sickened look at Carmen's clothes on the floor, Andrea rubbed her fingers together and felt an indescribable lump in her throat when she realized Carmen's essence was still permeating her skin... 

Part 3 to come... thanks for your patience



Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 3



Scurrying as fast as she could out of Carlos' apartment, Andrea hurriedly made her way through the darkened streets of the rough neighborhood until she got to her car.

Her head spinning wildly as she drove home, Andrea felt the need to roll down the driver's side window so a constant gust of cool air could splash across her face to help her stay focused on her driving, as well as to override the smell of sex that permeated the hand she had wrapped around the steering wheel.

"I can't believe you did...that...to yourself...in that boy's bathroom...and then...and then...you didn't even take the time to wash that Godawful...smell...off," a sickened voice inside Andrea's head berated.

"I was in a hurry," Andrea mouthed out loud in response. 

"All right...all right...that's all in the past...we've still got enough evidence to prove this case...its just up to me to put it all together," Andrea whispered reassuringly as she weaved her car through the rush hour traffic to get home and wash the stench from her hands ...and her soul.

* * * * *

The Montclaire Trial

Like a diver who was perpetually scared to take that killer of a step off the high dive, once you finally did and allowed gravity to take over, fate was suddenly out of your hands. That's how it always seemed for Andrea Bell right before the start of a trial. No matter how much angst, uncertainty or endless hours of preparation that she put into her work, once the Judge's gavel pounded the trial to order, the form, function and fate of the process inherently took over.

And through the initial day and a half of opening statements and witness testimony, Andrea couldn't have felt better about her chances.

After a parade of prosecution witnesses, including Becky's former co-worker and friend, Alysia Kraft, to verify that Carlos and Becky were involved in a sexual affair, Andrea felt extremely positive about the foundation she had established before she called Carlos to the stand.

In fact, the biggest hurdle Andrea feared going into her list of witnesses was being able to make Alysia Kraft a convincing agent for the prosecution despite the fact that her Husband was having an affair with Becky Montclaire as well, knowing the jury's first reaction would be to think that Alysia was testifying against Becky for that sole reason. Andrea did a solid job however of establishing the timeline of events and pounding it into the jury's mind that Alysia didn't find out about her Husband's affair with her co-worker until well after the night she discovered Becky and Carlos having sex in the pool.

Dressed on the second day of the trial in a conservative but stylish black and white business suit that draped a few inches below her knees, Andrea had elegantly tied her auburn highlighted hair up into a bun and promenaded confidently around the courtroom with the same moxy of a CEO at a Fortune 500 company.

The trial was seemingly going so well, Andrea nearly forgot that the events of the trial were being shown live on television. Having all the dominos of the first few days of testimony fall just right, it wasn't until she called 19 year old Carlos Vargas to the stand that Andrea Bell's feet suddenly became cold.

Watching as Carlos slowly strutted out from the gallery of onlookers assembled behind her, Andrea was relieved to see that the teenager had at least shaved and was wearing a suit and sportscoat.

"At least he looks somewhat...believable...and sympathetic dressed like that...it would help if he wasn't 6'4" though...how is anyone supposed to look at him and see... him... being taken advantage of...nothing you can do about that... just shut up and start asking him questions," Andrea internally rambled as Carlos was sworn in.

Still, as Andrea tried looking her primary witness in the eye, she couldn't help but feel shaky and cold inside as if Carlos had infected her with another dose of a biting virus each time he looked at her.

"You can handle this Andrea...just ask the questions...get the answers you want and then sit down...no problem," She reassured herself before diving headlong into the testimony.

It was easier said than done for Andrea. When she went back weeks later to study the videotape of her interaction with Carlos, she would privately bow her head several times at the numerous instances she stuttered her words or saw her knee shake noticeably under the hem of her dress as she asked him questions.

As she was going through it in real time however, Andrea was completely locked into the process. Her questioning of Carlos, in all, took just under an hour but by the time she got back to her seat and allowed Becky Montclaire's defense attorney to cross, Andrea felt as if she had been forced to stand naked outside in a weeklong hailstorm.

Letting out a huge, pained sigh before taking a long sip of water, when Andrea pressed her thighs together to push her chair closer to the desk, a sudden and unexpected jolt of electricity registered in her brain.

"You're wet... down there," Andrea guiltily realized, feeling the buttery sheen of her arousal seep into the fabric of her dainty white panties.

"Its just your nerves...relax," She tried telling herself as she focused her attention on the defense lawyer's cross examination of Carlos.

Marvin Likowitz happened to be one of Colorado Springs most prominent defense lawyers. Using every bit of money her deceased parents had left her was the only way Becky Montclaire could have ever retained his services. In fact, she was lucky he accepted taking a nominal pay cut for taking case because he knew a high profile case such as this one would help his national profile.

A short, pudgy and balding Jewish man in his late 40's who had grown up back East and gotten his Law degree from Columbia University, Andrea immediately took a liking and respect for Likowitz even though he provided more than a cagey adversary.

"This is the first major case of your life and he's tried hundreds just like this... Andrea...how in the world are you supposed to win...you don't stand a chance," she remembered thinking to herself when she first got the news who her counterpart would be.

With the power of positive thinking not exactly on her side, Andrea did the best she could to ignore who the other lawyer would be and simply focus on the facts of the case, knowing if she could clearly and concisely do that for the jury, at least she could live with her conscience if she lost.

Stting there in her chair, trying her best to ignore the nagging buzz between her legs, Andrea focused on Likowitz's cross, brimming with nervous pride as the testimony went on that she might have a chance at pulling this one out.

Eventhough Likowitz had gone to great lengths to delve into Carlos' sordid background and to slam his credibility, it seemed as if the aloof but convincing young boy was doing a good enough job of standing up for himself.

"Why is he staring at you the whole time he's responding to Marvin's questions though?" Andrea asked as she squirmed uneasily in her seat under the weight of Carlos's stare from the witness stand.

"He just doesn't want to look the Likowitz or Becky in the eyes...and your sitting less than 20 feet away...it isn't like you have to stare back," her inner voice sarcastically scolded.

"Have you ever used drugs, Mr. Vargas?" Likowitz asked bluntly, clearly knowing the answer.

"Yes," Carlos responded.

"When did you start using illegal drugs for the first time?" Likowitz continued.

"I was 13...maybe 14," Carlos replied.

"That's awfully young Mr. Vargas...you certainly didn't have a job then...how would buy them for yourself?" Likowitz led.

"Sometimes friends would...sometimes I would with my own money," Carlos soberly shot back.

"But you weren't old enough then to work and make your own money...how could you afford to pay for the drugs?" Likowitz haughtily quizzed.

"Various ways," Carlos snipped back.

"Like from dealing or stealing?" Likowitz scolded, making a quick turn to highlight the point with the jury.

"Objection," Andrea yelped, nearly jumping out of her seat.

"Overruled," the judge answered. "The witness will answer the question."

"Yeah...sometimes," Carlos replied with a certain level of moxy and pride.

"When you and Becky were seeing each other...who bought the drugs?" Likowitz continued.

"Most of the time she would...with the money she got fro her ex-husband," Carlos answered in a rehearsed tone.

"Did you at any time ever buy them?" Likowitz sneered.

"Yes...a few times," Carlos admitted.

"Isn't it true that early on in your relationship with Becky that she admitted to you that she had a history of addiction?" Likowitz pointedly asked.

"Yes...she talked about it," Carlos shock his head.

"Didn't you take that admission and run with it knowing Becky Montclaire had this weakness and if you got her hooked she would be powerless to say no to anything you made her do?" Likowitz raised his voice.

"Objection," Andrea gruffly interjected again.

"Sustained," the judge quickly admonished.

"Withdrawn," Likowitz smiled, hoping he had made his point with the jury.

On and on it went for the next two hours, Likowitz punching holes in Carlos' story and Andrea fighting as diligently as she could to maintain Carlos' credibility.

When Likowitz brought up the, "better blowjob from a high school girl" comment that Carlos had made, Andrea could see every female member of the jury roll their eyes disgustedly but she also saw a twinkle in each of their eyes as well, that deep down they knew that Becky Montclaire was still the adult in her relationship with the student and didn't adhere to her duty as such.

For the first time since she was handed the Montclaire case a few weeks earlier, Andrea's stomach tightened with the expectation that she could win. Knowing Likowitz wouldn't dare put Becky on the stand to testify on her own behalf and not having any another witnesses to vogue for her except for a few random psychologists to talk about Becky's addictive weaknesses, there really weren't that many bullets left in the defense's chamber.

Daydreaming about her prospects for success, Andrea was even able to forget about the strange burning itch between her legs for the rest of the afternoon as she started to contemplate her closing arguments.

Three and a half days after the trail began, it was sent to the jury for a verdict.

* * * * *

When court was finally called to order at 10am the next Monday and word had come down that the jury had reached their decision, Andrea nervously fidgeted in her seat like a young girl who didn't know if she was going to Disneyland or the Dentist.

Trying to gauge the faces of a jury was something Andrea had never been very good at. Not even wanting to venture a guess based on their conflicting expressions, Andrea turned her attention instead to her adversary.

Returning Marvin Likowitz's friendly, professional smile, Andrea's filled with hope seeing that he didn't have the aura of a man expecting to win.

"He's been doing this for a lot longer than you...Kid," Andrea brimmed internally. "That's a good sign."

Leaning back in her seat as the judge crustily went through the formalities before the verdict announcement, Andrea stole a few more random stares around the courtroom, first sizing up Becky and trying to find some level of pity in her soul for the woman. Casting her gaze further back in the room, Andrea couldn't help but feel a little weak in the knees when she saw that her boss and several of her co-workers from the prosecutor's office had made their way to the courtroom to await the decision. 

Fanning her sightlines across the room, Andrea could also see Carmen and Carlos sitting side by side in the third row of the gallery. Even though it had been nearly three weeks since her awkward and forgettable visit to Carlos' apartment, Andrea still felt a sickening, almost wretching, wave of guilt ripple through her body as she stared at the young couple.

Tearing her eyes away from Carlos and Carmen, Andrea stared back at the judge as he prepared to call for the jury's verdict, knowing she was potentially standing on the highest precipice of her professional life.

* * * * *

"In the case of the State of Colorado verses Becky Montclaire the jury finds the defendant GUILTY of taking indecent liberties with a minor, GUILTY of contributing to the delinquency of a minor and GUILTY of possession of a controlled substance with the intent to distribute."

"YESS," Andrea Bell internally shouted as she allowed herself to crack a half smile across her heavily made up face.

Casting a polite grin across to Marvin Likowitz for a trial well run, Andrea felt her head swooning from the sizzling and excited feel of blood rushing to her brain, as a litany of well wishers came over to congratulate her.

An hour after the decision, Andrea had finally been able to retire to the comfort and privacy of one of the small DA's offices that the State had inside the courthouse where she rehashed the case with several of her co-workers and her boss. By the time noon rolled around and one by one, each of her well wishers had bled away to take their lunch break, Andrea finally found herself all alone to privately glow in the thrill of victory. 

The first thing Andrea did when no one was looking was to turn the picture of her ex-husband around on her desk so she could look into his dark, lying eyes.

"What did you think of that ...you pathetic bastard, "Andrea whispered with bitter satisfaction, remembering all the times Chuck had belittled her during their marriage, telling her she'd never make anything of herself.

Wallowing in her own world of self adoration, for longer than she would have dared admitted, Andrea was jolted back to reality when there was a series of firm knocks at the door.

"C...C...Come...in," Andrea babbled dreamily as she stumbled up to greet whoever it was at the door. 

Expecting it to be another co-worker stopping by to congratulate her, or perhaps a member of the media checking in to get a quote for a story, Andrea froze in disbelief when she saw Carlos, followed by his girlfriend Carmen, slip through the door.

"C...Carlos...C...C...Carmen...how are you?" Andrea stuttered as she hesitantly eased back to allow the two teenagers enough room to enter.

"I did...want to thank you Carlos for your testimony...you were our best hope and you came through big time...Thanks...from the bottom of my heart...I know it must have been rough for you...under the circumstances...having to testify against Becky and all...but...everyone here in the Office appreciates it," Andrea offered nervously.

"No big deal," Carlos grinned back, almost shyly."Just a matter of telling the truth...right?"

"Yes...Yes it is," Andrea beamed proudly, disbelieving that it was Carlos Vargas across from her being so modest and polite.

It wasn't until nearly a minute after Carlos and Carmen entered the room that the dark recesses inside Andrea's psyche reminded her of what had happened a few weeks earlier when she had visited Carlos' place.

Her enthusiasm instantly cooling, Andrea's body visibly tensed as she took a step back and placed her rear end against the front edge of her desk as she started to rub her hands together.

Feeling strangely naked despite the fact that she was immaculate dressed in a business suit she was still paying on, Andrea found herself instinctively covering her breasts with her arms as she cast Carmen and Carlos a sheepish and phony smile.

"Like I said...we just wanted to stop by before we left...to thank you and all ...I hope Becky doesn't get too much jail time out of this...we were kind of close once...she just had a lot of stuff stacked against her...you know...she just needs some help," Carlos offered with surprising clarity and concern despite the fact that his jealous, and seemingly uninterested girlfriend, was casting him the evil eye.

"I'm sure the judge will take that into account when we get into the sentencing phase...the possession with intent charge will be the biggest hurdle she'll have to overcome," Andrea honestly replied. "But I'd be shocked if she got more than 6 months."

The awkwardness of the dialogue was clearly evident on all three faces in the room as nearly 10 seconds went by without anyone saying a word.

Turning to her side so she could reach a few of the scattered folders on her desk, Andrea aimlessly started to stack and sort the pile of random papers, hoping it would become apparent to Carmen and Carlos that she was preparing to leave.

"Guess we'd better be going," Carlos coughed, clearly picking up on the lawyer's not so subtle hint.

"Yeah...I ...was...getting ready to...," Andrea started before Carmen spoke up in mid sentence.

"Is that picture of your son?" she asked in a tone of shared motherly curiosity.

"Ye...Yes it is," Andrea replied as she turned around slightly to face Carmen.

"He's very handsome," the young Puerto Rican girl complimented in her best broken English. "My son is 2...he still lives with his Grandmother back in San Juan."

"...Oh," Andrea shook her head blankly before returning to her feigned paper organizing.

Bending and stacking the scattered folders on her desk as she waited for the relieving sounds of Carmen and Carlos exiting the room, Andrea felt as if her frayed nerves had literally started to bleed when that sound didn't come.

"Is that your Husband?" Carlos' booming voice asked, shattering the eerie silence that had enveloped the cramped room.

"Huh...," Andrea gulped from the strange inquiry. "He's...my...Ex...Ex Husband...Why?"

"Oh...no reason," Carlos quickly replied as he soaked in the signs of Andrea's definite discomfort. "No reason...just curious."

Sensing she had become trapped in her own office with Carlos and Carmen blocking the room's only exit, Andrea stood in a surreal stew of conflicted emotions, too numb and confused to turn around and face the two, as she nervously tapped her fingernails on the cluttered desk.

The blood rushing rapidly in her ears combined with the jittery tapping of her own fingers, preventing Andrea from hearing Carmen quietly close the door at the same time her boyfriend's footsteps eased up behind Andrea's turned back.

Feeling her feet burn as if the fires of Hell were raging beneath her, Andrea couldn't help but shiver to her core as her blood turned to ice crystals in her veins.

Casting her weary gaze up to the picture behind her desk, Andrea felt her knees turn to jelly when she saw Carmen's reflection standing there, blocking closed door.

"OH...GOD...NO," Andrea shuddered when she felt Carlos grab the hem of her knee length skirt and start lifting it up in a series of calm and precise increments.

Instinctively trying to clamp her thighs together to ward off the teenager's advances, Andrea nearly broke into tears when she realized she was an instant too late. Just as she mustered every bit of energy at her disposal to block off her privates, Carlos slipped his meaty paws between her thighs and dug his fingertips into her nylon clad thighs before she could get her legs together.

Feeling as if she had become sandwiched between the front edge of her desk and the brooding, 6 foot 4 inch hulk fondling her from behind, Andrea's heart sank even further when Carlos began to whisper into her ear.

"I know what you did...Mrs. Bell...Yep...I know what you did while you were in my bathroom the other week...you should be ashamed of yourself...and you definitely shouldn't have been so loud with Carmen in the next room trying to sleep."

"Nooo...they couldn't have heard ...that," Andrea cringed morosely.

"Don't even try to lie about it Lady," Carlos taunted. "I could smell it on you when you hurried out of my place that day...Hell ...Carmen could even smell the traces of your perfume on her panties when she went to wash them later that night...you are a nasty...nasty Slut...you can dress yourself up all pretty in those business suits and put all that makeup on your face that you want...but underneath all of it...you're nothin' but a pathetic...deprived ...and desperate Whore!"




Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 3



Locked so deeply in her personal state of denial, Andrea was temporarily oblivious to the fact that Carlos had eased his hands off her trembling thighs and was now aiming them higher, right towards her petite, heart-shaped behind.

Arctic chills along with millions of tiny goosebumps shivered over Andrea's shoulders, down her back and pantyhose covered legs as she realized she had become a prisoner in her own office.

"...Stop...stop," she begged feebly as Carlos' large hands wrapped around her entire backside.

Moving in for a closer look, Carmen could clearly hear her boyfriend whisper into Andrea's ear, telling her to step out of her high heels.

Paralysed by fear and uncertainty, Andrea didn't so much as flinch the first time Carlos ordered her to remove her shoes.

"I said take them off Mrs. Bell...step out of them and kick them aside...then spread your legs a little more...DO IT!!" Carlos brazenly barked a second time.

Several painful moments dragged by for the shellshocked prosecutor as she roasted underneath Carlos' hot, brooding will. Literally shrinking 3 inches as she stepped out of her heels, Andrea tediously tapped her nylon covered feet on the slick linoleum below once she had kicked her shoes aside.

"All right...that's it Lady...now just spread those legs a little so I can reach under there and get your panties off," Carlos cockily demanded.

* * * * *

Keeping her hands choked around the edge of her desk, to the point that her knuckles had turned a ghostly white, Andrea felt her entire body start to jellify when Carlos' head disappeared under her skirt.

"Nooo," she groaned ruefully as the teenage boy's expert fingers anxiously dug at the fabric of her silk panties.

"UUUHHH," the prosecutor screeched bitterly when she felt those panties along with her hose slowly being ripped down her trembling legs.

The goosebumps that had already risen on her flesh grew goosebumps of their own when she felt the office's cool, air conditioned surroundings collide with her suddenly unsheathed skin.

Swooning and squirming as Carlos carefully tugged her undergarments to the floor, Andrea robotically followed orders when the 19 year old tapped her hard on the back of her straining calves.

"Pick up your right foot first Mrs. Bell...then your left... so I can slip this shit off your legs," Carlos demanded as the percolating aroma of Andrea's aroused pussy drifted hazily through the air.

"Alrighty...that's it," Carlos soothingly cooed once he was finally able to remove Andrea's panties and hose.

"Now put those heels back on...you look a lot sexier wearing them," Carlos barked as he stared straight up at the lawyer's naked ass.

"Dear God...what have I gotten myself in to," Andrea babbled to herself as she blindly fished her chilly feet back into the leathery cocoon of her shoes.

Regaining the three inches in height that she had lost, Andrea haplessly gazed back at the picture over her desk and went pale as a sheet when she saw that Carmen had crudely turned the tables on her.

"She just...just...picked up my panties off the floor...and look at that gleam in her eyes...Oh No...look at her roll them in her hands," Andrea's mumbled to herself.

"Yep...just like you did to hers that day back in their bathroom," the more sinister but truthful voice inside Andrea reminded.

"How do they feel?" Andrea heard Carlos ask his girlfriend as she fondled the older woman's frilly underwear.

"Hot," Camen laughed sexily. "And a little wet too...you know...I've never had a pair quite this nice...I think I might just keep them as a trophy."

Hearing those taunting words come out of Carmen's mouth, tinged with her thick Puerto Rican accent, Andrea immediately bowed her head in shame, praying what she was experiencing was just another in the long line of nightmares that had been haunting her sleep recently.

With the same efficiency of someone pinching her to tell her it wasn't a dream, Carlos lowered his head underneath Andrea's skirt once again and pressed his soft but insistent lips against the sensitive, goose pimpled flesh of the prosecutor's upper thigh.

"Gaawwddd...dddammmmmm," Andrea whimpered loudly as her body weight collapsed completely onto on the desk.

Feeling Carlos' hand wench her knees apart, Andrea was seemingly caught in a snare as the lust filled youngster slide his lips and tongue closer to her steaming vagina.

Becoming more and more lightheaded with each halted breath she took, a voice deep within Andrea's existence posed the very question she had asked herself hundreds of times since she was handed the Montclaire case. "How could a woman like Becky give up everything she had for an affair with one of her students like Carlos?"

Trapped in the privacy of one of the courtroom's cramped offices, with a stroke of his tongue across her inflamed pussy, Andrea Bell finally had her answer.

* * * * *

Walking forward, getting closer to where her boyfriend's face had disappeared underneath Andrea Bell's skirt, Carmen cautiously eased her fingers around the snap of her tight jeans and started to work them down her legs.

Stepping out of the rough denim pants, one leg at a time, Carmen watched as Carlos temporarily removed his head from beneath Andrea's skirt. Holding the back of the woman's dress in the air so Carmen could see underneath it, Carlos grinned to his girlfriend.

"Look at that Carmen...Look at the way her ass is still grinding even though I took my mouth away...its like she's begging to be touched." 

Reaching out with his moist, pussy soaked finger, Carlos placed it between Andrea's lily white asscheeks and jabbed it forcefully back into her pussy from behind.

"OOUUUHHOOHHHHHH," Andrea gulped helplessly, bringing an electric jolt of arousal to both Carlos and Carmen's ripe genitals.

Manipulating Andrea's cunt as if he had become a puppet master with his hand up the back of her dress, Carlos wantonly penetrated his index finger in and out of Andrea's swampy slit until the white woman's sweaty asscheeks were working back and forth against his digging wrist.

Winking over at Carmen, making sure she could hear the squishing wet sounds burping out from Andrea's soaked crotch, Carlos smiled seeing his girlfriend had already removed her pants and was in the process of slipping out of her panties.

"Wore a pair of your thongs...good," Carlos complimented. "Leave them on for a while...I bet this Bitch here will appreciate it."

Holding Andrea's dress all the way up in the air so Carmen could get a clear look at the older woman's bare behind, the two youngsters could see for themselves, from the glossy glaze that seeped out from Andrea's pussy and glistened clearly on the crack of her ass like morning dew, just how aroused the female lawyer had become.

"Just look at that poon shine...Carmen...you can tell the Bitch don't want to get fucked ...can't ya?" Carlos coughed sarcastically.

"Step back for a second Carlos and let me get a taste of that while you get your pants off," Carmen offered coyly as she watched her boyfriend step back from Andrea's trembling and needy body.

* * * * *

A moment after hearing the faint, incoherent trickle of Carmen's voice vibrate softly in her throbbing eardrums, Andrea felt a pair of hands dig maniacally again at her cunt.

"OHHHGODD," Andrea buckled, thinking Carlos had once again reached between her parted legs.

It wasn't until several seconds had passed that Andrea realized the fingers exploring her smoldering laire were softer and much more subtle than Carlos'.

"Its her's Andrea...it's Carmen's hand down there," a disgusted but truthful voice echoed inside Andrea's head.

The thought that it was Carmen's hands, not Carlos', between her legs was inexorably confirmed when Andrea felt the brutal grasp of the young man's hands wrap around the front of her business suit and mash down hard on her small, tender breasts.

"MMMMAAAHHHDDAAMMM," Andrea shuddered disjointedly, feeling the Latin couple's four probing hands engulf every inch of her sexual being.

"WOW...look at the way those nipples are poking out the front of your blouse Mrs. Bell...they must be awful hard to push through your bra and your top like that...I can't imagine how hot your pussy must be...hey Carmen...how hot are things down there?" Carlos crudely asked.

"Flaming hot ...dripping into my mouth like sizzling butter," Carmen cooed from between Andrea's legs as she ruthlessly bit and licked at prosecutor's enticing slit.

"OUUCCHHAAAHHHYYYEEAAHHNNOOOYYEEAAHH," Andrea moaned incoherantly, imagining the Carmen's tongue must have been at least a foot long as the young girl snaked it between the crack of Andrea's ass and straight against the most sensitive areas of her molten poon.

"Please stop...before...before...I...Please...stop...," Andrea begged disjointedly.

"Before you what...haha...O.K...We'll stop...," Carlos cockily sneered back as he continued to fondle Andrea's bouncing tits. "All you've gotta do is pick up your hands and stop us."

Knowing she was already tettering unsteadily before she even contemplated taking Carlos' dare, Andrea did for a brief moment try lifting her right arm off the desk to push Carmen's head away from her crotch but all the 31 year old lawyer accomplished was losing what little balance she had before falling with a loud thud flat against the cluttered layer of file folders below.

Unlooping his belt as he watched Andrea's chest and face crash forwards onto her desk, Carlos assumed a pose of sexual dominance over top of the older woman as he felt his fingers rip down on his zipper before the fleshy thud of his freed penis smacked the front of his jeans.

Pumping his exposed cock with his right hand as he reached for the back of Andrea's neck with his left, Carlos pulled the lawyer's head back slightly and asked her," How does it feel to have another woman licking your cunt?"

Tapping his cock to full attention, Carlos wasn't surprised when Andrea didn't answer his query.

"Alrighty then," Carlos glared, his eyes lighting up with the germination of a new idea. "Carmen...get out from under there for a second...Mrs. Bell looks a little...hungry."

A few moments, the young, long haired Puerto Rican girl emerged out from underneath Andrea's raised skirt and looked up at her towering boyfriend.

Seeing Carmen's entire face glisten with the glaze of Andrea's guilty arousal, Carlos felt his balls began to burn as he pumped his cock even harder in his hand. 

Easing the grip he had on the back of Andrea's neck around to the front of her throat, Carlos flexed the muscles in his arms and in one lightning quick jerk, pulled Andrea's entire upper body off the surface of the desk, creating enough room for Carmen to slid between the delirious prosecutor and the table she had been resting on.

"Giddyup there Baby, " Carlos hummed to Carmen an instant before the teenage slut hopped up on the table and took a seat right in front of the catatonic older woman's face. "Oh yeah...look at that pink pussy of yours creep out the side of those skimpy drawers Carmen...pull the front of it to the side so Andrea can get a real good look at that sweet cunt."

"See that Mrs. Bell...see those panties...at that skimpy beige thong...look familiar...that's the same one you couldn't keep your hands off that day in my bathroom...remember friggin' yourself off while you were holding those same panties...thought you might actually like to see what they looked like ON Carmen's body...don't they look sexy as Hell contrasting on her light brown skin...Yeah...and look a little closer...look a little deeper ...look at that shaved pussy purring underneath it...you want some of that...Huh...you wanna taste it don't ya?"

"Yeah...get your face in there," Carlos groaned as he blatantly pushed Andrea's head forward until her numb and quivering lips were flush against the front of Carmen's underwear.

Removing his grip from Andrea's neck, Carlos took two steps back and watched for a few moments, along with Carmen, as their female conquest cautiously nuzzled her face against the seated teenager's fiery crotch.

"Carmen...roll your fingers down the front of your panties and pull the edges to the side so Andrea can get a good look underneath," Carlos sighed.

On cue, Carmen reached down and did exactly as she was told, pulling the skimpy patch of fabric that covered her cunt to the side until the mortified lawyer was face to face with Carmen's smooth and juicy vagina.

"I can see the drowl on your lips Lady...you wanna taste it...why don't you open your mouth and get some...you aint ever eaten pussy before have ya...you better get some of this...you aint ever gonna get any better tastin' shit than what Carmen's offering up right now," Carlos cooed crudely as he fondled his own raging genitals.

"Yeeeaahhh," Carmen spat excitedly when she finally felt Andrea's lips gently collide with her pungent sex.

"That's right Bitch...lick my girlfriend's cunt...you might have just dreamed about a taste of it...well ...your gonna get the whole damn meal now," Carlos bellowed boastfully.

* * * * *

Watching with a mix of childlike fascination and fully grown arousal as Andrea swayed on her knees, tentatively caressing Carmen's vagina with her mouth, Carlos saw out of the corner of his eye the picture of Andrea's Ex-husband unwittingly smiling down on the festivities.

Easing up behind Andrea, with his cock still firmly entrenched in his powerful right hand, Carlos whispered into the older woman's crackling ear.

"Still got a picture of your EX up on your desk at work Huh...just can't let go can ya...I bet you aint had anyone fuck you...in...a...really...long...time...Yep...I can tell...still holdin' out hope he'll come back to your desperate and sorry ass aren'tcha," Carlos chided with razor sharp clarity.

"Ohh ...Yeah Mrs. Bell...that pussy of yours looks like a dam just burst inside you...guess I'll just have to bend down here...get behind you...and stick a plug in that leak so it don't get all over this nice clean floor," Carlos continued to snarl as he lifted the back of Andrea's dress up and readied himself to mount her.

Spreading his feet apart, creating as wide of a base as possible as he positioned himself behind Andrea's raised ass, Carlos dug the fingers of his left hand into the fabric of the woman's now wrinkled skirt and yanked it as far as he could up her back.

Swinging his massive erection toward the uncovered target of Andrea's rear with his right hand, Carlos aimed his jutting spear between the scant crease of Andrea's ass cheeks until his manhood bristled from the stirring warmth radiating out of her pussy.

"God damn this is gonna be good," Carlos groaned to himself as he inched closer to the helpless white woman in front of him, on her knees and hesitantly eating out of Carmen's inflamed quim.

Like the sound boxcars make when a new one attaches itself to the end of a train, a visceral vibration rumbled through the closed room as Carlos shoved his weight forward, stabbing his menacing cock deep inside Andrea's buckling cunt.

Andrea, in turn, was forced to lurch forward until her entire face was pressed harshly into Carmen's honeypot, who then in turn had to dig her fingers around the edge of the desk she was sitting on to keep from toppling over as Andrea's spasming and teary face was scrunched into her womb.

"OHHHFFUUCCKK," Carlos spat viciously when he felt the helmet shaped head of his uncircumsized penis mash into the back wall of Andrea Bell's cervix.

"Shit that's tight...you ain't had a dick in this cunt in a long time have you Lady?" Carlos groaned down to the swooning prosecutor as he watched the way her face became concealed inside Carmen's greasy snatch.

"God...Damn...Carlos...each time you slam into her ...its feels like her lungs fuckin' explode against my cunt," Carmen gasped to her intense and sexually locked in boyfriend.

"I know one thing...I won't be able to last very long inside this pussy Baby...this Bitch is as tight as a fuckin' knot...I can tell she aint been fucked in forever," Carlos grunted across to Carmen.

"Then go ahead and bust your nut up inside the Bitch ...fill her up...make her feel all that cum bubble and swim inside her belly...Besides...I can't wait to feel what her mouth does to my slit when she feels all that sperm spewing into her cunt," Carmen anxiously replied as she watched the elastic way Andrea's pink vagina stretched and clung to Carlos' cock each time he speared it in and out of her.

"MMMMM...AAAHHHHHH...YOU GOT IT," Carlos groaned like a seething bull as he prepared to plant millions of his ravenous sperm cells inside Andrea's fizzing depths.

"Don't cum...don't cum in me ...please," Andrea begged when she sensed what was about to happen from the way Carlos' cock tightened and went rigid inside her womb. 

"Please...don't...I'll get...preg...," the spastic prosecutor gulped before her mind went black and she nearly passed out from the sensation of having glob after glob of Carlos Vargas' untamed lust spill into the gripping vice of her saturated twat.

"OHH...GOODD...I'M CUMMINNGG TOOO," Carmen groaned fiercely as the tears of Andrea's dismay leaked down her blood-filled cheeks and dripped inside Carmen's steaming, spasming cauldron.

"SHITYEESSSSSHHIITTYYYESSSS," Carlos repeatedly belted out as he dug his rough fingers into the older woman's naked sweaty, hips and pounded her like a jockey on top of a racehorse, whipping it down the homestretch.

Keeping one eye on Carmen sitting on the top of the desk with her legs outstretched around Andrea's head and the other eye on his own cum-glazed cock sliding in and out of the white lawyers snatch, Carlos gripped his virile cock by its tree-trunk-like base and spanked it violently inside Andrea's snatch until he had milked every bit of his raging jism from his swinging testicles.

"I know exactly what your thinking Carlos...you wanna take her asshole right now dontcha...you know its cherry," Carmen leeringly scolded her boyfriend. "Let her stew in what we did to her for a while...she'll come back for it...I know she will...just like that slut teacher in that jail cell right now did...over and over and over again..."

The End...for now...

THANKS FOR READING!!!