"Mr. McCall, I need to see you privately in my chambers." She banged her gavel once. "Court is adjourned for a thirty minute recess," Alicia said in an imperious tone. The dashing young lawyer responded by gathering up his papers and following her into her mahogany paneled office. She kept her back to him. "Close the door and take a seat."
"Your Honor-" he began but she interrupted.
"Right now I the last thing I want to hear are tedious questions." When she turned around her robe was already unzipped. Her breasts rioted beneath the flimsy confines of the white silk blouse she wore as she advanced towards her prey. When she straddled his chair she noticed that the briefcase in his lap began to rise of its own accord. Smiling, she let down her hair and flung her glasses across the chamber.
"But- Your Honor, don't you smell smoke?"
"Smoke? Quit trying to change the subject." she growled. To silence him she ripped her blouse open, peppering him with mother-of-pearl buttons and setting loose an avalanche of tit. Then she buried his head in her cleavage. Thankfully this muffled his protests as she shoved the shielding briefcase to the floor. Her hands raced to his belt buckle. But as if the damn thing was rigged with a car alarm, a piercing wail jolted her into wakefulness.
She discovered herself lying on the couch covered in a blanket, the TV still showing reruns of Crime & Punishment. The burning smell that McCall spoke of in her dream was heavy in the air and the smoke detector was blaring. Dammit- her chicken Alfredo casserole! She flung off the blanket and banged her shin on the coffee table on her way to the kitchen. "Fuck!"
Alicia donned a pair of oven mitts, found the fire extinguisher and went to work. Not surprisingly, the casserole was a total loss. What amazed her was that it continued to billow smoke like a tire fire even after being extinguished. The soot was everywhere, including her lungs. She sunk to the ground with a wheeze, the adrenaline from dealing with the crisis rapidly fading. She felt grimy, exhausted, frazzled, sexually frustrated, and oh yeah- her stomach growled and she looked up mournfully at the remnants of what was supposed to be dinner and leftovers for a week; hungry.
Daaww... very cute. Not sure what I like the most about this one - the fantastic transition from fairly well-written pornography into a real-world, normal-girl crisis?
Also "avalanche of tit" wins the award for Best Metaphor of the Day. Yesterday's was "Death Star Canteen".
Very cute girl... She looks familiar, have you drawn her before? I love how her nipples are so big and hard that they're making their presence known through a sweater AND an apron (and presumably a bra, too)!
Ohmygawd! Been there and done that ... especially after watching Law and Order: SVU. Cooking dinner one night and fell asleep on the couch to be awoken by the chirping of the smoke alarm ... nothing serious. The popcorn was burned. :)
"Your Honor-" he began but she interrupted.
"Right now I the last thing I want to hear are tedious questions." When she turned around her robe was already unzipped. Her breasts rioted beneath the flimsy confines of the white silk blouse she wore as she advanced towards her prey. When she straddled his chair she noticed that the briefcase in his lap began to rise of its own accord. Smiling, she let down her hair and flung her glasses across the chamber.
"But- Your Honor, don't you smell smoke?"
"Smoke? Quit trying to change the subject." she growled. To silence him she ripped her blouse open, peppering him with mother-of-pearl buttons and setting loose an avalanche of tit. Then she buried his head in her cleavage. Thankfully this muffled his protests as she shoved the shielding briefcase to the floor. Her hands raced to his belt buckle. But as if the damn thing was rigged with a car alarm, a piercing wail jolted her into wakefulness.
SKREEK SKREEK SKREEK! SKREEK SKREEK SKREEK! SKREEK SKREEK SKREEK!
She discovered herself lying on the couch covered in a blanket, the TV still showing reruns of Crime & Punishment. The burning smell that McCall spoke of in her dream was heavy in the air and the smoke detector was blaring. Dammit- her chicken Alfredo casserole! She flung off the blanket and banged her shin on the coffee table on her way to the kitchen. "Fuck!"
Alicia donned a pair of oven mitts, found the fire extinguisher and went to work. Not surprisingly, the casserole was a total loss. What amazed her was that it continued to billow smoke like a tire fire even after being extinguished. The soot was everywhere, including her lungs. She sunk to the ground with a wheeze, the adrenaline from dealing with the crisis rapidly fading. She felt grimy, exhausted, frazzled, sexually frustrated, and oh yeah- her stomach growled and she looked up mournfully at the remnants of what was supposed to be dinner and leftovers for a week; hungry.