The Promise - Sex Stories

The Promise

... restraint, she managed to say, "No, thanks. I'll get through it. It's just so hard with all those big lawyer words." She batted her eyes sarcastically, the rest of her face a mask of contempt. To the office in general, she announced, "Stepping out to lunch." It was 2pm, but she didn't care. Rebecca gathered up the documents and stuffed them into her valise, shouldered past Brody and headed for the door. "Something I said?" he called out after her. What a tool, she thought, picking up her stride down the hall and into the elevator. Beatbutters Diner was just a couple blocks away from the courthouse, but something about the old vinyl booths and the constant smell of burnt coffee always left her feeling nostalgic. She'd spent many late nights here during school, poring over books and case law, or writing lengthy papers arguing the merits of some precedent or another. That seemed decades ago. Damn, was she getting that old so quickly? She was nearly 32, way past being over the hill. The place was nearly empty. She nodded at Marjorie, the longtime waitress, and went to her usual booth back toward the bathrooms. Home sweet home, she thought. She lived here or at the office far more than she saw her real apartment. She'd considered adopting a cat, but she knew deep down that she couldn't risk a living thing relying on her schedule. She ordered a cup of black coffee from Marj and put her nose back into the case. The Spinelli case was a big one, newsworthy, capturing the whole ...

... city's attention. Giovanni Spinelli, the defendant's father, was widely rumored to control most if not all the organized crime on the north side, and his kid was facing some charges stemming from an altercation at a nightclub. Nothing too terrible, but there was a weapons charge and an assault. She could prove the gun was there. The assault was more of a gray area, and even Rebecca wondered if the victim, claiming to have been punched in the face by young Andreas Spinelli, wasn't just fishing for a settlement. The media was determined to portray Andreas as the rising godfather of his syndicate family. As she looked through the evidence, though, Rebecca found herself struggling to distinguish between the truth and the DA's attempts to get to Giovanni by going after his kid. She didn't want to think her boss would be so devious, but his was an elected position, and she knew how often politics stepped ahead of justice. Another hour passed, along with several refilled mugs of the warm, dark, thinking juice. A man walked toward the bathroom, but just as he reached her booth, he slid himself into the seat across from her. "Can I help you?" she asked, without immediately looking up from the file. "Giovanni Spinelli," he said. Rebecca looked up, startled, and closed all the case folders hastily. "You can't be here. We can't be talking like this." She started to look for the waitress, but the old man's spotted hand was on hers. It was heavy, and rough, and strong. If his son had half his ...