Attorney Client Privilege

• This is a work of fiction. My experiences and likes influence all my writing, so there might be a nugget or two of truth somewhere within, but don't worry, it's carefully hidden... Any similarity with actual people or places is entirely coincidental.

• This story involves interracial sex between adult men. There is lot of crude stereotyping, role play, nasty and demeaning language and other things that might be called kinky or just plain ignorant. If any of this offends you, please leave now.

• If you are underage or if reading this is illegal where you are for any reason, please leave now.

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Chapter 2 - Pre-Trial Discovery

I was frozen.

Well, not really frozen... It felt like that.

At least I think it felt like that. It's hard to explain. It's that sinking, alarming feeling that you can't quite put your finger on... You know you're in some degree of peril. Your instincts are telling you to run, to back away, to come up for air. But you're not moving. There's something more powerful than reasoning, self-preservation and logic holding you in place.

All my senses were blurred. Well, almost all of them.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. The only sound coming through was a rushing, like the unceasing winds that blow on the beach. I could feel my heartbeat pumping rapidly in my chest, but my hands, if they were touching anything, didn't register any definitive shapes. My mind was working overtime elsewhere. Some might equate it to a nervous breakdown. Hours later, as always, I would realize it was just a form of sensory overload.

The one sense still functioning normally was smell. Even in my near delusional state I recognized that smell. It was a scent you never mistake, never misplace. Some crave it and others are repulsed by it. For me it was comfort. A familiar bouquet. The smell I couldn't get away from, even if I tried, was the only directional arrow that told my panicked brain where I was. The smell was the map icon that instantly showed my location in the world. Perhaps that one piece of geographical certainty is what kept me from freaking out and bolting to try and save myself. One small comfort in the midst of uncomfortable chaos.

I heard a growl.

I tried to concentrate. Instinctively I knew that growl was important. I couldn't decipher the growl, but I knew I needed to try. I focused, concentrating harder. I needed a way out of the haze I was in, if there was any hope.

I felt pressure on the back of my head. I tried shifting my body, but I was stuck, sore and unable to move my legs or upper body. The pressure on the back of my head intensified. I winced from the pain, but I couldn't move my head forward or back. I moved both my hands down to my legs, trying to see if I could feel what was causing the paralysis below. I realized my legs were in pain too. The sensation was that I was trapped in a box, too small to shift position.

I lifted my left hand up and out, and immediately stuck something hard and cold. My right hand also hit cold hard flat surface. I tried moving my hands towards my body, hoping I could feel my way around in the darkness. I felt cloth and heat, both from an object that wasn't my body.

I heard the growl again. It was louder this time, clearer.

I tried concentrating harder.

The next thing I heard was unmistakably clear. One word that pierced the haze and rang out around me like a bell. It wasn't loud, but it was deep, and rumbled. It hung in the air like an echo.

"FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK"

At that one, long, bellowing word I began my swim back to the surface.

I tried opening my eyes, but could tell there was a hot object pressed against my face. I couldn't keep my eyes open, but in the few moments they were open I couldn't see a thing. My face felt hot and wet. I knew my eyes were watery, and I could smell sweat. The stifling feeling of being in a sauna or steam room made me panicky again. I hate being hot.

The panic made me realize more urgently that I couldn't breathe. I began to frantically snort in air as fast as I could through my nose. I was snorting in drops of liquid as well as air, which only made the difficultly breathing more alarming. It was like my face was buried in a hot, wet blanket.

But my panic was tempered by that smell. I knew what that smell was. It was new, but familiar. A variation on a theme that is still instantly recognizable.

"FUCK" I heard again, this time in a low grumble.

The sounds came from above, so I tried to turn my head upward. Again I couldn't move my head at all. My hands raised again to the back of my head. I could feel a hard, warm, flat object behind me. I knew I was against a wall - literally. The pain in the back of my head now made sense.

I tried opening my eyes, but all I saw was darkness and I could feel the rhythmic pressure of something pressing flat against my face. I tried tilting my head up more, but to no avail.

I reached ahead of me, again confronted by the hot object in front of me. This time I felt the smooth, damp and steamy skin. I grasped around, trying to gain a handhold, but only feeling my fingers sliding off the hot, wet surface.

"SHIT" I heard from above, this time in a raspy whisper, as if through tightly clinched teeth. It was a sound of urgency.

Unable to grab the object in front of me, I tried pushing it away. I was pushing in vain.

I still couldn't open my eyes, and I was still snorting in damp steamy streams of air through my nose. I felt like I needed to move my head. Suddenly it seemed essential that I pull away from the wall, or pull away from the hot, wet object that kept pressing rhythmically against my face. I realized I was between a rock and hard place, as the saying goes. I didn't have much time to plan my next move.

"FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK"

The growl was louder now, deeper and more insistent.

I felt the pressure on my face increase, and the pain in the back of my skull increased at the same time. I was being pressed harder. The area between the rock and the hard place was getting tighter.

"SHIT"

"FUCKKKK"

"OH SHIT"

I heard a quick litany of whispered, frantic grunts.

Then it happened.

I heard "FFFUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK" at the same time I felt like the weight in front of me double down. Suddenly I couldn't breathe through my nose. What must have been an animal reaction gave me the strength to finally shift my head somewhat, but it pushing myself forward I only made my situation worse. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but was having zero luck. Again those animal instincts kicked in and I forced my body to slide down so I could slide my head down and slightly to the side. I had to get away the hot wet wall in front of me. The fear of suffocation can give you the adrenaline rush to move mountains.

As I finally started to pull away slightly I felt a strange sensation in my throat. It felt hot and raw and unnatural. As I tried to clear my throat I realized I was choking. I pulled away harder and further now, and was immediately attacked with a simultaneous urge to vomit and the desperate frantic sucking in of fresh air. That blast of fresh air was all I needed, and for the moment it was all I was going to get.

I felt my head being turned forward and tilted backward, and I felt my gag reflex kick in. This time there was no getting away. I felt a searing heat in my throat, hotter than the sticky, sweaty hot wall that was pressing again on my face. The rhythm was over. Now it was just dead, hot weight pressed against me.

Then I felt my mouth and throat start to swell even more. There was no where to go but deeper, and so for a fraction of a second the gagging and choking almost overpowered me.

In an instant, and with no warning, I was free. The hot wall pulled away from my face and out of my mouth and throat. I was gasping for air, but my face being free was the most refreshing, cooling sensation ever. It was like diving in to a pool on a hot day. Only my throat still felt hot and dry.

As I caught my breath, I finally opened my eyes. In blurry, watery darkness I saw my legs folded beneath me, and the boots and crumpled jeans of a man standing inches away. I saw dark smooth legs coming out of those jeans.

Before I had a chance to raise my gaze on my own, I left a hand on the top of my head. It pushed my forehead back with a jerk so I was looking upward.

It was so dark but I could make out a figure before me, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I knew where I was and what was happening.

The hot, wet hand was pushing my head backwards and I could hear a rhythmic pumping, of flesh on flesh, as the man in front of me was now starting to breathe hard. I felt his body jerking through the hand he had pressed on my forehead.

At the moment I felt the pressure from his hand start to give way, I felt the first blast of hot liquid hit my nose. The next sensation was a blinding stinging as liquid hit one of my open, watery eyes. I pressed my eyes closed as tightly as I could.

There was a succession of "SHIT" and "FUCK" and "SHIT" and "FUCK", and with each grunted rumble came another blast of liquid on my face.

There was another smell that was so familiar. The bleachy scent of hot cum.

As soon as the hand released my forehead, I raised one of my hands to wipe the eye that took a direct shot. A quick rub made me feel a bit better. On autopilot, I used that same finger to rub some of the liquid off my face and stuck that finger in my mouth. Like the smell from earlier, this is a taste that's always a bit different, but always roughly the same.

I felt something hot rubbing against my cheek and opened my eyes again. I couldn't see much, but I knew the feeling of a hot dick being dragged across my face, smearing his nut that was dripping down my face as he worked out the last few drips and drabs from the tip.

Without thinking, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue as the dick sliding across my face got closer. Knowing what to do, the dick slid across my hot, dry tongue and in to my mouth, only a few inches, but enough. I felt the dude in front of me shudder from the last bit of tongue running across the tip of his dick. As he threw his head forward I felt drops of his sweat hitting my face.

He whipped his dick out and slowly shuffled backwards away from me.

I was just sitting there, catching my breath in the darkness and savoring the smells and tastes.

I heard the rustling of clothing, a zipper and then the clink of a belt buckle. I heard the door open and light from the outside flooded the room.

"Let me check to make sure it's clear," he whispered, as he slowly disappeared through the door.

I quickly looked around me, surveying the scene. There was a toilet just to my left and a tub just to my right. I was backed against a wall between the two in small bathroom. There wasn't a lot of room, but where I had been wedged the space was even tighter.

I tried standing, but didn't have the strength in my legs to make the rise on my own. I reached over and grabbed the toilet and leveraged myself up. I was so sore. My back was tight, my knees were weak. One of my legs had fallen asleep due to the amount of time I had been pinned down. I started to sink back down and caught myself on the tub with my other hand. I'm sure it only took 5 seconds, but it felt like it took a full minute before I was upright. I leaned against the wall behind me, gathering my strength. I didn't want to trip and fall, and I knew I'd be leaving in seconds.

The door swung all the way open, brightening the room a bit more, as the man I who had just fucked my face darkened the door.

Even in my worn out, wobbly and woozy condition I admired him again. Not tall, not dark, but just right. He had dreadlocks just past shoulder length, a thin and patchy goatee style beard and a baby face. I remember thinking again he doesn't look 30. His white ribbed wifebeater t-shirt was drenched in sweat and was still pulled up away from his belly, stuck by the moisture in a position that exposed his lower abs and stomach. He had a little treasure trail of dark hair running down the center of his belly that I didn't want to take my eyes off of. I liked him. He worked out some, but he wasn't a muscle boy. A natural build. He looked masculine. He looked strong standing there in his sweaty t and jeans. But I learned that first hand moments ago.

"Come on," he whispered. It was time for me to go.

I took the first steps slowly. It was hot in this little room. As I headed out the door I caught a glimpse of myself in the slightly steamed mirror. Christ, I looked like shit. My button-down dress shirt was soaked with sweat and spit all the way to my waist. My hair was soaked and clumped. Even in that quick glimpse I saw a sweaty, red-faced guy with cum stains on his face who looked like he had just lost a battle.

I learned a long time ago that unless a dude offers you a towel or otherwise offers a way for you to clean up, you walk out with the nut on your face. It's a way of leaving their mark in place. I was a pro, though. I had paper towels in the car.

I was out the door and down the stairs and in my car in two minutes. I cleaned up my face a bit. Cranked the AC down to 60 degrees and sat there for a minute. I wished I still smoked. I could really have enjoyed a cigarette at that moment.

The clock on the dash said 5:04. Damn, I thought, as I put the car in gear and drove out of the complex. I have to be at work in a couple of hours.

I got home, striped off my clothes and took a long shower. As I got out of the shower I knew I needed a short nap or else the day would be shot. I overslept, of course, and jumped up, rushing to get dressed and downtown. In the car I was cursing myself for staying up all night, even for dick, and knew I would pay for it this afternoon. I was getting too old for this shit. Even at 28, I wasn't a young buck. And I didn't have a desk job where I could close my eyes and take a nap. It was going to be on all day.

I made my way to the clerk's office on the ground floor of the courthouse. All the court appointed lawyers had mailboxes in the clerk's suite. I knew my client referrals were there waiting for me.

Like a lot of young lawyers, I was doing court appointed work to make money. My county didn't have a public defender, so there was a court appointed list that attorneys could sign up for. You got a small fee for each case you worked. It wasn't a lot of money, but it wasn't a lot of work either. You run them through the system, mostly guilty pleas, get your hundred or so dollars each and move on. It was also guaranteed money. A lot of folks didn't have money to pay lawyers, so having the state pay your fee meant you were always gonna get paid. For starting out, it wasn't a bad gig.

And not to sound like a pussy, but it was public service. These were folks who needed some sort of lawyer and without the court appointed system they would be on their own.

Court started at 9, so I only had a few minutes to figure out what cases were on the calendar for this morning. I had to hope that there was nothing complicated that would screw up my morning, and sure enough the cases docketed for today looked pretty simple. Most would be guilty pleas for folks who had already been in jail longer than they could be sentenced if convicted, so they pled guilty, got credit for time served and walked out an hour later. It was sad in a lot of ways, but I'll talk about that more later. I wasn't going to change the criminal justice and court system today, but I could work through my cases and live to fight another day.

Plus I was tired. Three hours earlier I had been on my knees in a stranger's bathroom getting my throat plowed. I had been up all night looking online and chatting with tricks, so I was walking in to court on an hour's sleep. The reality was there wasn't gonna be a lot of justice being dispensed today.

We made it through the preliminary roll calls and it was time for me to meet my clients. I scanned through the files and tried to figure who I would work with first. They were all pretty basic so I went in alphabetical order.

"Tyson Anderson" I called out to the gallery. I saw movement on the back row of benches and looked over as a man walked my direction. I looked down at my paperwork as he approached and looked up as he extended his hand for a shake.

"I'm Sy Symington," I said as I looked him in the eyes. He smiled.

Damn.

"Good to meet you Mr. Symington," he said. He kept smiling.

It was the dude from last night.

A little more than three hours ago he had painted my face with his cum. Now we were shaking hands in Courtroom #4 of District Criminal Court. I was assigned to defend him. He was my client, and I could still smell his dick.

I'm sure I turned about ten shades of red.

"Walk this way, please," I said, and ushered my client in to one of the attorney-client meeting rooms off the courtroom gallery.

"Hey, can ma girl come in there wit us?" he asked.

Oh shit.

"Sure," I said, not knowing what else to say.

I walked in the room and sat down at the table. In walked dude and right behind him came a pretty young woman carrying a small child.

"This is ma girl Sheena and my son Tyson," he introduced them.

As I got up to close the door I felt that soreness and weakness in my knees. It was Mr. Anderson here who put me in a position to feel that soreness, and the irony wasn't lost on me. I hesitated slightly as I hunched forward a bit, feeling the ache in my bones.

"You OK?" the dude asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I worked out last night and I must have gone too hard. I'll be fine." I figured I needed to make something up.

"Sound like you payin' for it now," he said.

"Yeah, but I'll be fine in a bit, no worries," I said.

He was staring at me with a smirk on his face. Damn he was sexy as hell. Cocky and daring too.

It was my turn to smirk - as best I could.

"I don't regret it. It was the kind of workout I needed. No pain no gain," I said as I smiled back. As I looked down at my paperwork I put the nail in the coffin. "I'd do the same workout again."

"I know you would," he said, losing the smirk but still staring me down hard.

His girl was tired of our banter and started firing off questions about how he was going to get off, details about the charge and all these other legal questions.

I ignored her, keeping my eyes on Mr. Anderson.

"OK, let's get down to business," I said. I opened his file, tried to regain my composure, and get to work. But one thought was at the forefront of my mind: What a small damn world we live in.

This was going to be a long, long day...