Getting To Know The Office.

I tried calling the stripper but got no word as her phone went to voicemail. So I went to work on the numbers typing up a whole new contract on the computer while using a phone to do the exchange of measurements from square meters to square feet and then the money from pounds to dollars. I added them all up and the numbers matched up mostly with a slight difference in the exchange rates given it had changed since the agreement. I went to print it up but there was no paper in my printer.

I got up and looked around, but the cubicles around me were empty, so there was no one to ask. I walked toward the area I had not been to yet. I didn’t want to bug someone in one of the offices, but I figured someone strange walking around would get someone’s attention.

She was dressed in a tailored navy blazer that hugged her curves, the fabric straining slightly across her full breasts. The crisp white blouse beneath was unbuttoned just low enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. Her pencil skirt clung to her slender waist and shapely hips, the hem riding up to lower-thigh as she walked, revealing long, toned legs, giving her a sexy yet professional look. She wore simple yet elegant black pumps that clicked against the tiled floor as she stepped into the hallway. The way she moved exuded both confidence and raw sensuality, her stride purposeful yet almost predatory. She was tall and lithe, her body a perfect blend of athletic and feminine.

"Excuse me," I said, trying to catch her attention before she walked past me. She paused, looking up with an inquisitive expression. I caught a whiff of her perfume that lingered in the air - a subtle, intoxicating scent that was both floral and spicy. "Where do they keep the paper for the printers?" I asked, my eyes briefly drawn to the way her blazer hugged her curves.

"Over there next to the break room." She pointed as she twisted her waist, the movement causing her skirt to cling even more to her hips. "New here?" Her hazel eyes sparkled with curiosity as she studied me.

"First day. I'm Chris." I offered my hand, noticing how delicate yet firm her grip was as we shook.

"Felicity." She shook my hand, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Though she was obviously in a hurry, there was a hint of interest in her gaze.

"Thanks," I said, **** to end our brief interaction.

"Of course." She went to leave but quickly turned back, her hair swaying with the movement. "Hey. You don't know anything about ballistics?"

"What do you want to know? If I don't know it, I know someone who does." I replied, intrigued by her sudden question.

"Sadly, skeet shooting is the only time I've shot a gun and I didn't much care for it." She said and pulled out some papers from the large folder. The action caused her to lean forward slightly, offering a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. "A client was arrested with a .357 Magnum revolver in her bedside table. She's suspected of killing her husband by shooting him seven times in cold blood."

I nodded, examining the picture of the gun found in the bedroom, tucked into the dresser alongside the woman's underwear and a vibrator. The image confirmed it was indeed a revolver. "So that's not possible," I said, shaking my head. Seven shots at close range, with the excessive number pointing to a crime of passion - someone really wanted him dead. It was clear why the wife was the primary suspect, but there was a major problem with this theory.

"Why?" Felicity asked, her voice laced with curiosity. She slid next to me, her body pressing against mine as she leaned in to look at the picture. The subtle pressure of her bosom against my arm and the intoxicating scent of her perfume momentarily distracted me from the task at hand.

Regaining my focus, I explained, "A revolver only holds six rounds. Unless she stopped and reloaded one extra bullet, she couldn't have used a revolver. It's more likely the killer used a Glock or a Sig Sauer, which are clip-fed but can use the same ammo type and hold more bullets." I paused, considering the implications. "This isn't enough to say your client is innocent, but they may not have the actual **** weapon. The prosecution might be using this to pressure you into making a deal, hoping she'll confess and lead them to the real **** weapon."

I found myself puzzled by the situation. As lawyers, our job was to prove our client's innocence, but part of me couldn't help but wonder about the true identity of the killer.

Felicity's eyes lit up with interest. "How do you know all this?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"My father was a cop, and my brother is on the ****," I explained, "so the topic of guns comes up over dinner at home pretty often." I thought for a moment before adding, "You might want to call around to gun stores. Most of them are Second Amendment enthusiasts who can tell you anything you want to know about guns. You might even find one with a clean record who'd volunteer as a witness."

I shrugged and handed the paper back to her, our fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent a small jolt through me, reminding me of the attraction simmering beneath our professional interaction.

“Thanks. This helps more then you know.” She said as he put the paper back. “It is my first **** case.”

“Of course. Any time you need to pick my brain.” I shrugged.

“What you say your name was again?” He offered his hand.

“Christopher Knight but my friends call me Chris.” I shook his hand again.

“Thanks Chris”

I headed for the copy room walking past the break room. As I entered, my eyes were drawn to a young woman standing on her tippy-toes, her fingers stretching toward a precarious tower of papers stacked on a shelf as she stood maybe 5’3’’ or a little taller. Strawberry blonde hair fell down her face in tresses and a braided ponytail hung behind her. She bit down on her full pouty lips. Her back arched sharply as she stretched with her large full breasts straining against a pink buttoned down blouse as the buttons seemed to strain against it. As she stretched, her blouse pulled slightly, revealing a hint of a lacy white bra through the buttons. Her frustration was palpable as she stretched higher, the hem of her skirt that slopped over the curved of her round ass was inching up slightly with each effort. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to reach the papers perched at the very top, which seemed to mock her from their lofty position and thought she might bring the whole stack down on her in an avalanche.

“Hey, need a hand? Let me get that,” I said, stepping forward to help. I moved closer and slid up behind her, extending my arm to reach for the papers she was struggling to obtain.

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed, her voice brightening the otherwise mundane atmosphere of the copy room. As she dropped down onto her feet, I noticed how she brushed back against me, a brief moment that felt unexpectedly intimate do to her close proximity. “I really thought I might have to start stacking boxes and climb up there to reach those,” she said with a playful smile that lit up her eyes as they meet mine.

“Of course.” As I handed her the papers, our fingers brushed together in a fleeting intimate touch as she bit her lip and brushed one of her tresses from her face as she smiled shyly. She was cute looking though young. To young to be a lawyer or maybe even a paralegal.

“You new here?” She smiled.

“"Yep, first day. I'm Chris." I offered my hand, noticing her delicate fingers as she shifted the papers to her other arm.

"Megan," she said, clutching the documents to her chest with one arm while extending her other hand to meet mine. Her grip was surprisingly firm for someone so petite.

"Pleasure to meet you, Megan." I smiled as I shook her hand, feeling the softness of her skin. "So, what do you do here?"

Megan's eyes lit up, a mix of enthusiasm and slight embarrassment crossing her face. "Pretty much whatever I'm told, to be honest. I'm just an intern for the summer until college starts. Right now, I'm trying to figure out this thing," she gestured toward the copier with a hint of frustration. "The boss wants me to copy and collate these files as soon as I can figure out where the paper goes."

She turned back to the machine, her brow furrowed in concentration. I could see the tension in her shoulders as she faced the daunting task.

"May I?" I held out my hand, offering assistance.

"Be my guest," Megan said, relief evident in her voice as she handed over the stack of papers.

I quickly located the paper tray, loaded it efficiently, and closed it with a satisfying click. "Hit Copy," I instructed with a reassuring smile.

Megan's eyes darted across the control panel, searching for the right button. After a moment, she found it and pressed it tentatively.

"Now, number of pages," I said, gently touching her hand to guide it to the number pad. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, and I could feel her slight hesitation.

"Five," she murmured, pressing the button carefully.

I guided her to the enter key, our fingers brushing as she pressed it.

"Number of copies?" I asked, my hand hovering near hers.

"Twelve," Megan replied, biting her lower lip in concentration as she input the numbers.

"And start," I smiled, guiding her finger to the final button before releasing her hand. She pressed it, and the copy machine whirred to life.

"There you go. It'll sort them all for you," I explained with a shrug, stepping back to give her space.

Megan's face broke into a grateful smile. "Thank you so much. Have you used this model before?"

I nodded, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Yes, but don't tell the others, or all the interns will come to me for help."

“Your secret is safe with me.” She gave a little wink.

“So you been here long?” I asked as I reached up and grabbed a stack of paper for my printer.

“It is my second week.” She smiled.

“You thinking of becoming a lawyer?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Its just something to do before college. I do not even know what I want to major in.” Megan shook her head.

“Give it time. You do not have to really decided until the end of your first year. I went to school for business but ended up in law so it took me years to figure out what I wanted to do.”

“Thanks. I am sure I will figure it out.” She gave a small smile.

“If you need any help reaching things over your head I am over there in one of the cubicals.” I pointed.

“Noted. It was nice meeting you Chris.” Megan smiled and touched my shoulder.

“You as well.” I replied.

I went back to my desk and printed up copies of the lease with American figures and measurements and then went to looking into spaces of the same size finding a few better ones in my opinion. Then I found a major fucking problem when I entered the building the lease was in when I was looking to see if they had other floors available. I printed up what I found and then quickly went to see Mrs. Walker.

I stopped when I saw a black woman sitting at her desk in front of Mrs. Walkers office. Her secretary no doubt. She had her hair pulled back into a poofy bun. She had her hair pulled back into a stylish poufy bun that accentuated her graceful neck and highlighted her elegant features. Her smooth dark skin glowed under the office lights, and her high cheekbones added a striking quality to her face, and her full lips were painted a bold shade that drew the eye.

She wore a fitted, sleeveless blouse that accentuated her curves that hugged her well proportioned breasts with the top few buttons undone to show off a necklace she wore over her cleavage. Long fingernails tapped away on the keyboard as her luscious full lips made for giving a man pleasure hung open ever so slightly.

“Hello.” I smiled getting her attention.

"You must be Knight?" She gave me a flirtatious smile, her gaze lingering deliberately. "I can see why all the girls in the office are talking." Her voice was rich and suggestive, dripping with a mix of professional sass and sexual confidence.

“That is me.” I nodded. “Is the Miss Walker busy?”

“When is she not. The real question is it important enough for you interrupt her?” The black woman smiled.

“I think so. Can I knock?” I asked.

“At your own risk.” The woman teased. I had a feeling the secretary had seen more then a few junior associates get run out of the office in her time here. I decided to take my chances. I walked to the door and knocked.

“Come.” I head a voice say. I pushed the door open and walked in to see Mrs. Walker sitting on a longue in her office with her legs folded underneath her. Tons of papers scattered across the coffee table in front of her where she probably entertained wealthy clients from time to time. She glanced up at me over her glasses. “You can't be done already with the lease agreement Knight?” She closed a folder she was reading over and sat it on the table as she unfolded her long stocking clad legs and sat up. From the look of it I wondered if there was a case in the firm she hadn’t at least read as she had quit a pile of them.

“Actually, we have a problem. The math adds up but the numbers do not.” I said handing her the folder.

"Meaning?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

“The building is bigger on the inside unless the British company is renting the airspace around the building and hiring their own window washers.” I shook my head and handed her the paper I had printed for the building itself.

She leaned forward setting the folder open on the table and then set the paper down scanning back and forth as she compared the two. I couldn’t help but admire her massive cleavage as I had an amazing view from where I was standing. She wet her lips lightly as she scanned the documents. I couldn't help but notice the delicate lace of her bra peeking out from beneath her blouse. A fair amount of pale milky white skin was now on display as she was to engrossed in checking my facts that she was paying me no attention as she flipped through the pages. As she continued to scan the documents, her fingers tracing the lines of text with a delicate touch, her breasts seemed to rise and fall with each breath, drawing my gaze inexorably back to the tantalizing expanse of skin visible above the lace trim of her bra. The soft rustle of pages turning was the only sound in the room, punctuated by the occasional soft "hmm" of concentration from her lips, which were still slightly parted from when she had wet them earlier.

“You are sure about this?” She glanced up over her glasses.

“I checked the building size on three different sites. I would need the actual blueprints to get the most precise figures of the actual space available for rent but they are fudging the numbers to make the space larger.” I shook my head.

“By how much?” She said as she looked at the print out I had done.

“They added about four hundred square feet. Either someone did the math wrong or they are inflating the value of the property so they can charge more. Add that by eighty floors and that is three thousand and two hundred square footage extra they can charge a year. At the eighty dollars a square rate they want that is a little over a quarter of a million in extra revenue they are over charging for office space. This is a possible class action lawsuit if they are doing it for multiple businesses per floor.” I did the numbers in my head.

“If any of our clients are renting in the building yes we may pursue a civil case. I will give it to Lawson and have her run the numbers again. Not that I do not trust you but I want to cross our T's and dot the I's and you already have another case on your desk that is more pressing than some business contract. If our British clients call I will tell them there was a mistake in the conversions between pounds and dollars till I see if we have any clients in the building.”

“I found some other options for them. I would suggest the one on top if I was picking.” I said as I leaned over and flipped the papers I had put in the back. I could smell the older woman’s perfume and found it hard not to look at her impressive cleavage.

“And why is that?” She glanced up.

I smiled as I stood back up. “I do not know what aesthetic the British company wants but this one is a bit smaller but cheaper and it comes already furnished with the option to buy or lease the furniture. It belonged to a stock trading company before they got shut down by the FCC meaning the internet will be top of line at no additional cost. Perfect for a business that does trade across the Atlantic. Pre-installed security cameras, Ergonomic workspaces with adjustable chairs. Everything should already be up to code meaning the company could move in less then a week and be up and running. Plus it is still a great view.” I shrugged. It was the one I would pick because it was ready to go.

“I will let them know. The head of the company flies in on Friday but I will send your options to her and see what she wants. Nothing else we can have someone show her around. Let someone else worry about the real estate. You have two more pressing cases on your desk.” She said as she closed the folder up. She stood up smoothing out her skirt.

“As you wish. I will be out for a bit during lunch running down those cases.” I nodded.

“Nice work looking beyond what is on the paper.” She smiled.

“Of course, ma’am.” I smiled.