Prosecutorial Weakness Ch. 2

by Stardog Champion


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.


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