A name I never expected to hear again.

“Yes, there is actually. I had a call this morning from a gentleman trying to get in to see you. I told him you weren’t taking new clients this morning but he seemed to think you might like to meet with him anyway,” Sandy says.

My secretary is right. I don’t normally like to meet with any new clients when I'm due in court that afternoon. Bringing a new client in normally involved far too much work when I needed to focus on going up in front of a judge. Especially considering this is the Davis case, on which I've spent nearly two hundred billable hours on the depositions alone.

“Good job Sandy,” I tell her as I'm just about to enter my office and close the door behind me. Still, something makes me ask, “out of interest, what was his name?”

“I have it right here,” Sandy says picking up her phone messages pad, “Spencer Askren.”

“Spencer,” my mind went immediately to the night I’d spent with a handsome local in a small town in upstate New York. I’d never expected to hear that name again. “Did he leave a number?”

“He did. Did you want me to call him back and reschedule a meeting for another day?” Sandy offers.

“No that’s alright. I’ll call him myself,” I say, taking the tear off message details.

Sitting down at the desk in the privacy and safety of my office, I take a moment to still my racing heart before entering the number Spencer had left on an outside line. I recognize his deep manly voice as he picks up after only one ring.

“Morgan. Thank you for calling me,” Spencer speaks with timber of confidence and surety in his voice.

“Spencer. I’m a little surprised to hear from you again,” I say, “is there something I can do for you?” I began to get my own confidence back under me with my professional demeanor restored.

“Did you know there’s a Corner Coffee House in Avonwick as well,” Spencer says, again surprising me with his choice of conversation topic.

If Spencer is at the Corner Coffee House he's only across the road from my office.

“I didn’t know that. I only really visited the bar the night I was in town,” I say.

“And the motel,” Spencer adds.

I flushed. “You wanted to see me?” I try to steer the conversation back on track.

“I’ll only take up five minutes of your time. Honest,” he says.

I buzz through to Sandy that Mr. Askren would be arriving shortly and to send him straight in.

No more than a few minutes later Spencer Askren, blast from the past, stepped into my office. He's still every bit as tall and handsome as he’d been that night I’d picked him up.

“Lovely to see you again,” we both agreed. While it had been a surprise to begin with, I find myself warming to the idea of Spencer dropping in on me unannounced now that I’d seen him in the flesh. “So, what brings you to Costa Rosa?”

“My daughter, Amy, is on holiday with her Grand Parents in Los Angeles. I’ve got a client here in Costa Rosa, and I thought I’d drive up and kill two birds with one stone.”

A client all the way across the country. Must be pretty important. “And what was that exactly?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say here. It has to be somewhere else. Away from your offices,” he says.

“Where are you staying?”

“Best Western.”

Perfect. That motel is less than ten minutes from here. If Spencer is staying there I'll have plenty of time to meet with him on my lunch break plus whatever else I felt like doing to him in person. “What room number?”

“117.”

“See you there after 12.”

“Perfect.”

With Spencer gone in five minutes, just like he said he would be, I'm left with the unfortunate situation of my pussy starting to leak and three whole hours until I could do something about it.