Sexual harassment suit Martin Kane A Delphi Agency Tale: An innocent guilty man and a nightmare lawyer. --- Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- Vince walked sulkily into the room and sat at the table. It was large, a polished veneer of silky black. The room seemed to have been built around the table; it took on the same design and shape with the sides stretching out wide to his left and right. Despite the huge width, the woman with her back almost against the far wall, was merely a matter of metres away. Both room and table were elegant and expensive. He immediately felt out of place, wondering if perhaps he should have made the effort to wear a suit. The woman sitting opposite him clearly wasn’t out of place. She looked every inch a creature in its natural environment. She was power- suited, complete with the shoulder-padded jacket, a savage grace and lawyer poise. She was either a half-cast or spent many trips abroad soaking up a foreign tan. Her hair, dark, was elegantly sculptured behind her head in a tight bun. Her face was hidden behind minimal make-up designed to emphasise the eyes and obligatory glasses designed to obscure them. She smiled in a manner akin to predators and extended her hand. "Mr Meete, it’s good to meet you. My name is Lisa Stone. I’ve been appointed as your representative." She had a professional handshake to match her professional manner, firm and assured. Neatly manicured nails, cool flesh that saw regular applications of moisturiser. "Yeah, OK," Vince muttered. Lisa opened a leather file sitting before her on the desk. She unconsciously leaned forward a little as she did this, opening the folds of her suit jacket a little. Just as unconsciously, Vince’s eyes dropped to the exposed V of white blouse, hoping to catch a suggestion of cleavage or the jut of her breasts; perhaps the line of her brassiere visible through the cotton. It suddenly struck him as ironic that he did this without even thinking. Old habits, as they say. "I’ll outline the plea-bargain," she told him, looking up again. If she was aware of his wandering gaze, she made no indication of it. "What do you mean?" Vince sat up, suddenly taking this much more seriously. "Plea-bargain? I’m innocent." She gave him that predator smile again. "Mr Meete, you may be many things, innocent certainly isn’t one of them." "What are you talking about," he said. "You’re here to sort this mess out. I’m innocent of the charge and you’re supposed to prove that." Lisa leaned back a little, apparently perfectly at ease. "You may be innocent but there isn’t a court in Britain that would give that verdict if you put in a plea of not-guilty. What I’m here to do is explain your options. I have to say, you don’t have many." "But I’m innocent. I didn’t attack that woman." "There are witnesses lined up, begging to testify against you; physical evidence that paints a picture of the scene; bruises and stains. In the entire time I’ve worked as a solicitor, I’ve never scene a case so blatantly open and shut. The fact that I can offer any plea-bargain at all is just testament to my position and experience. That’s the reason I’m here." "I don’t understand," Vince said. "In the message I got, it said that you’d take the case and be able to clear me. You’d take the case pro bono and prove my innocence." Lisa smiled again. "That was a lie. It was a way to get your case and ensure you come to these offices today. My motivations will become clear, I promise you." "Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?" "Mr Meete, the reality of this case is that a woman has testified that you sexually assaulted her in a lift. All the evidence supports her claim. Everyone present in the office who saw that lift open, saw the woman hysterical and struggling to escape. And you were caught with you pants down, so to speak." "I was set up." "To be perfectly frank, I don’t give a flying fuck." She smiled, seeing him shocked by this. Through her grinning teeth she hissed the words. "You are in no position to complain or make demands." Vince was close to tears of sheer frustration. "But I didn’t do it." "I know." He looked at the woman very closely, trying to read that equivocal expression. "The woman who you attacked wasn’t the simple temp she was posing as. Her real name is Susan and, like me, she actually works for a professional organisation that creates tailor designed solutions to specific cases. We were hired for the express purpose of blackening your good name." The sarcasm on the last was subtle but devastating. Vince couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "YOU set me up?" "Yes." "You dropped me in this shit?" "Yes. And we are the only ones who can pull you out of it." From the moment he started talking to her, Vince couldn’t shake the impression that this was just a game to her, just another case. In actual fact, that was just the beginning. * * * Vince had been bored at work, as he normally was. He performed with the cool efficiency of those who can do the job but don’t necessarily care about it. He’d attained his position not through merit or ambition but through knowing the right people and making sure they knew him. He punched the lift button and, when the doors opened, he stepped into the empty carriage and thumbed his floor number. Just as the doors where sliding shut, a woman hurried between them, only just making it. She nodded a polite greeting then turned her back to him, facing the now closed doors. Vince was standing, leaning back against the back of the metal box; the woman stood in front of him. He had never seen her before, he was sure. He would certainly have remembered a woman like her. She had a Spanish air about her - dark and stunningly beautiful. But what struck Vince was her body. Thin without being scrawny. A slender waist that emphasised her womanly hips and pert buttocks. Breasts that were large enough to look just oversized for a woman as lean as she was. She was dressed in a dress that clung to every curve. Short and skimpy, tight and revealing. Vince just stared, mouth agape, his dick waking in his pants. There was a clatter as the woman dropped the file she was holding. Under other circumstances, Vince would have leapt to help her, any excuse to make the acquaintance of a pretty girl, but now, he was too stunned by awe and lust to even move. She bent down, thrusting her gorgeous bum up before him. If he didn’t have an erection before, he certainly did now, so much so it was almost painful. The woman glanced around at him, still in that same position, bum in the air like a cat in heat. She was grinning knowingly. She knew he was looking and she could see the obvious bulge in his trousers. Without any warning whatsoever, the woman propelled herself backwards, slamming herself bodily into him. Vince grunted, winded. She stood erect, throwing her shoulders back against him. Her bum now pressed against his raging hard-on, buttocks moulding themselves against the front of his hips. Such was the force of her pressure that Vince was pinned to the back of the lift, crushed between the metal wall and her lithe body. He gasped as a warning shudder ran through his whole body. "What?" he managed to ask, too stunned to articulate anything else. The woman began to work her muscles, squeezing her buttocks against his throbbing dick. She reached back and grasped his flailing arms. She was remarkably strong. Far stronger than he would have gathered, glancing at her slim little form, and she pulled his arms around her body. She thrust his hands against her generous breasts. Her fingers lacing between his and she began manipulating his hands against her bountiful flesh. Vince felt her nipples pricking his hands as they hardened into the game. Another warning shudder ran through his body, his thighs liquefying in a delicious ripple. She was rough, curling his fingers around into claws with her own, driving his nails into her breasts. He felt a rip and realised her dress had given. He now felt bare flesh within his grip. Her bum still worked against him, rubbing with such a force that she was actually taking him off his feet, pinning him helplessly in the air, against the metal wall. He groaned and started to spasm. A hot wet gush and purple heat flooded his head, his eyeballs swinging up in a dizzy haze. He shivered and gurgled and grunted and moaned. She released him and he fell onto his feet again, sighing. The woman fell forward as the bell signified the lift arriving at its desired floor. The doors opened and she screamed, instantly transforming into a panicked tatter of hysteria. Vince saw her eyes, turgid with fear. He saw her dress, ripped and stained. It was then that he realised that he was in deep shit. * * * Vince sat and stared at the solicitor. Her professional demeanour was suddenly much more sinister than the cold indifference he’d originally surmised. "Why?" he finally asked. Lisa smiled cruelly. "That’s none of your business. I’m sure you can appreciate our client’s request for anonymity. All you need know is that we are here to destroy your career, which we have very effectively done. Your position now offers you a simple choice, take the deal we give you and walk out of here a free man, or resist our help and we will ruin you completely." "You don’t scare me," Vince hissed at her, standing slowly. He was tall and knew how to use his stature as a threat. Lisa however was less than impressed. "Sit down Mr Meete." "What’s to stop me, beating the truth out of you? I saw the size of these offices, who’d hear you with my hand over your mouth?" Lisa stood herself, revealing her own height to be as great as his. Her jacket suddenly seemed tighter; the shoulder-pads less like shoulder-pads and more like shoulders. The sleeves of her suit didn’t appear to have any slack within them, despite their thickness. "If you resort to violence, I will respond in kind. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want it to come to that." His eyes skimmed her body, assessing her more carefully. As his gaze skirted those arms he was certain he saw the sleeve jerk tight, as though filled to capacity. "Sit." He sat. "You will plead guilty to a charge of common assault," she told him, sitting herself. "The more serious assault charges will be dropped. Your sentence will be a suspended one. Assuming you keep your nose clean, you won’t serve any time. Your criminal record should ruin any chance you have in your current career. I believe a full police check is standard practice in all of the main firms." "And if I don’t?" he hissed. "Then you will go down. Our influence on your case will ensure that you serve the most severe time we can secure. Once you’re finally out, your life and career will be irredeemably lost." "This is blackmail. This conversation, this set up, it’s all evidence. I can prove my innocence." "You can try," Lisa admitted. "I wouldn’t hold much hope of winning a case like that though, you have absolutely no proof. All your evidence is based upon what I’ve told you, and I can deny this conversation ever took place." He looked into her eyes, knowing it was true, knowing he had no choice. Lisa stood again. She smiled that lawyer's smile. "But we need to be sure you don’t try anything like that," she told him. "If you start shooting your mouth off, no one will believe you. But it’s still an avenue we’d rather not have to head down." She began walking around the table as she spoke, following its straight length away from him to the foot of the room, around and back towards him again. Her hands had raised and her thumbs hooked into the lapels of the professional suit. She eased the shoulders up, opening the suit. With a twist and roll, she had slid out of the sleeves, leaving the jacket trailing behind her. The blouse he had glimpsed beneath wasn’t a blouse, it was a slip of a vest, a traditional muscle-shirt. It exposed shoulders and arms. His earlier impression of her physical presence turned out to be far truer than he would have guessed. Muscles rolled with obscene excess. Shoulders like basketballs held arms thicker than his thighs. "It isn’t just my legal skills that can ensure your suffering," she told him. Vince tried to back away but she was already on him, grasping his shoulders and lifting him bodily onto the wide table. She slammed him down, pinning him against the polished black surface, the back of his head bouncing against it with a loud smack. She held her mighty arm over his face, slowly and meaningfully pumping up the enormous biceps muscle until it completely overshadowed him. Vince stared up at that gigantic body-mass, shuddering in horror and fear. Lisa stood back, watching him carefully. He was almost weeping at the suddenness and intensity of the whole situation. She gave him a few moments to compose himself before breaking the tense silence. "Are you going to play ball?" "Yes," he managed. He still lay on the table, not sure whether he was allowed to get off or not. He didn’t dare to ask. "Are you left handed or right?" "What?" "I’m going to need you to sign some papers," she told him. "Are you left handed or right?" "Right," he told her, not thinking this through to any logical conclusion. He soon realised when she stepped forward and grasped hold of his left hand. "Nothing personal," she assured him, "it’s standard practice to ensure everyone concerned appreciates that we are completely serious." "What? NO!" She had placed his hand onto her mountain of a bicep. She positioned it to the front of the steep slope, right into the crook of her elbow so the knuckle of his little finger was buried against her forearm. "Bite down," she suggested and began to squeeze. She pumped her arm in, as tight and hard as she could, squeezing her biceps with every ounce of strength she had. There was a crack as his trapped hand caved with a lengthy popping crunch. Then she released him again, letting him pull the mangled wreck of his hand free. He was weeping now but Lisa paid him no mind. She walked back around the table, collecting and replacing her suit jacket as she did. She retook her seat, carelessly pushing Vince off the table in order to lie out the leather file. He crashed down and huddled into a frightened, pained little ball. "You’ve got five minutes to compose yourself, then we have work to do," Lisa told him without even looking up. Vince didn’t reply. He sat there softly whimpering to himself. Lisa ignored him, going through the paperwork. Another case successfully completed.