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Authors: Sawyer Bennett


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LEGAL AFFAIRSVol. 2 - Stipulation

By Sawyer Bennett

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014 by Sawyer Bennett

Published by Big Dog Books

ISBN: 978-1-940883-06-9

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10

“Do you haveyour pajamas?”

“Yes,” Isay with a smile.



“Andeverything you need in your briefcase?”


“Finally…and most importantly, did you pack sexy lingerie?”

My eyebrows shootupward at Macy while she gives me a lecherous grin. “There isno need for sexy lingerie,” I admonish her. “It’s abusiness trip, for goodness sake.”

“Yeah, but anovernight business trip… two nights to be exact, with sexy,hot, and orgasm-inducing Number 134,” Macy points out.

“He’snot Number 134,” I snap at her. “He’s MattConnover, my boss.”

Macy sighs inpleasure, assuredly replaying all the sexy details of my encounterswith Matt, which I ultimately told her about over two bottles ofwine. “He’ll always be Number 134 to me.”

“You’redemented,” I tell her. “Demented and sad… butsocial.”

Macy throws a pillowat me, catching me squarely in the face. “Stop quoting 80s’movies. It freaks me out when you do that.”

“I did it justto get you to shut up about Matt. You skeeve me out when you startfantasizing about him based on my experiences.”

Snickering, I bendover and zip up my suitcase. I have to meet Matt at the airport in anhour, so I need to get down and get a cab. Pulling out the handle onmy overnight and snapping it in place, I start rolling toward thefront door. “Will you miss me while I’m gone?”

“I willtotally miss you while you’re gone,” Macy tells me.“You’re my girl.”

“I’llalways be your girl,” I tell her, and then amend. “Thatwas Forrest Gump… definitely not an 80s’ movie.”

“Much morepalatable,” she commends me.

I give Macy a quickhug, tell her to not get into any trouble while I’m gone, andthen head to the airport.

When I get there, Ihustle my way through security and toward my gate. Even though JFK iscrowded, I immediately spot Matt. He’s reading a newspaper, abriefcase and carry-on suitcase beside him. He’s wearinganother perfectly tailored suit, that probably costs more than amonth of my salary, and has one leg crossed over the other. He lookslike the height of confidence and sophistication all rolled into one.

As if sensing I’mthere, he lifts his face up and scans the crowd, coming to a firmrest on me. His whiskey eyes trail down me briefly, and then comeback up. The look isn’t sensual, but it isn’tbusinesslike either. In fact, I might categorize it as wistful. Mattgives me a small smile in welcome as I approach.

I take a seat nextto him and ask, “How was your weekend?”

I ask because Istill can’t help the inane jealousy that courses through mewhen I think about Matt hitting upOne Night Onlyas he saidhe would. I also ask because I’m a glutton for punishment.Because not knowing is worse than knowing the absolute worst thing hecould possibly say to me, which I realize is a confusing andspectacularly tongue-trippy sort of thought had I indeed actuallyvoiced it, but since I used my inside voice, it’s all good.

Matt doesn’tdisappoint. After staring hard at me for a moment, his lips curl upand he says, “I had an amazing weekend. One of the best ever.”

Bitter acid swirlsin my stomach. His comment is pointed, designed to hurt, and also tomake sure I clearly remember what he told me. Our time is over, andhe has moved on. He apparently had a great hookup with someone andjust like that… I’m forgotten.

It makes me a littlebitchy, so I say, “What a coincidence. Me too. Gotta love thatOne Night Only.”

That tiny muscle inMatt’s jaw pops back and forth as he stares at me, then hesmiles at me. Almost evilly. “Definitely love it, although theyshould rename itTwo Nights Only. It wasthatgood of aweekend.”

Oh, that pisses meoff, and I’m pissed off at myself that it pisses me off. Scoreone for Matt Connover. That was like a punch in the gut and, eventhough I have no right to be, my feelings are hurt just a tiny bit.

Sometimes I hatebeing a woman and all the things that come with it that make me softand mushy.

Pushing thosethoughts aside, because they really have no room in my head, I askMatt to tell me more about the case that is sending us all the way toChicago for depositions. He makes a smooth transition from gloatingover his weekend sexcapades, and spends the next twenty minutes untilour flight is ready describing, with mind-numbing detail, about hislawsuit. It’s against a major auto manufacturer that produced avehicle where the seatbelts were faulty, causing their customers tobe ejected from the vehicle during rollovers, or shot through thewindshield in head-on collisions. Matt spoke with fervor andrighteous indignation over the poor victims, practically sneeringwhen he told me he had proof that they knew the seatbelts werefaulty, but didn’t want to spend the money to do a recall.Rather, they rolled the dice and hoped no one made a claim forcompensation.

I have a feelingthat they are going to be very sorry for crossing Matt Connover.

Apparently, we wouldbe doing the depositions of some of the big wigs in the corporation,to see just how high up the ladder the conspiracy to keep the secretsof the faulty seatbelts went. My job would be to sit there and taketedious notes on every question and answer, making sure that I evenpaid attention to the deponents’ facial reactions in case Mattstumbled on something that they really didn’t want him to knowabout.

I’m excited tosee Matt in action. Despite the rocky start to our workingrelationship, I am eager to learn from him. I did some of my ownGoogling of the illustrious Matt Connover, and found that he is wellrespected in the legal community. He’s already made quite aname for himself after only ten years of practice.

I just need toremember to keep my libido in check, my heart on guard, and my workbeyond impeccable, and all will be well in my life.

The first day ofdepositions are over, and we’ve all met down in the hotelbar/restaurant for drinks, dinner, and then more drinks.

We’re on themore drinks part now, and there is room to celebrate. Matt killed ittoday, and it was almost a surreal experience.

First, we were atthe corporate defendant’s law firm, a massive, steel-and-glassstructure that dwarfed the rest of the Chicago skyline. Thedepositions took place in the largest conference room I’ve everseen. The table was massive and could seat fifty people, althoughthere were only about fifteen in attendance.

The lawsuit iscomplex, and there are multiple parties. There are five plaintiffstotal, and all of their lawyers had flown in to hear the testimony.Matt had long ago been appointed lead counsel. He was the only oneasking the questions—and the man was pure genius.

I thought thequestioning would be contentious but quite the contrary… Matttook the ‘good old boy’ approach. He softened up eachdeponent with benign questions, carefully poking and prodding.Nodding in commiseration, he gave sympathetic looks over how hardtheir jobs were. At one point, during the first deposition, I evenbegan to wonder if Matt’s heart was really in it.

But then, just whenhe had them practically eating out of his hand, he attacked and wenton the offensive. He caught them in lie after lie, and then pulledout reams of documents to shove under their noses, showing how heexposed their lies. I swear he even had one guy in tears afterpointing out the multitude of untruths that had been captured by thecourt reporter, who was recording every single word with a smirk onher face.

Yes, tonight we arecelebrating, even though we have another day’s worth ofdepositions tomorrow. Matt told me it wouldn’t be so easyduring the next round. He told me that, rest assured, the defensewould be up all night preparing their witnesses to try to withstandMatt’s attacks the following day.

Still, I have animmense level of pride in Matt as I watch the other plaintiffs’lawyers slap him on the back and repeatedly shake his hand. They areall riding high on the fresh kills today, no doubt seeing the waypaved clear for a successful outcome for the victims in this case.Matt is like a bright beacon among a sea of dull and boring people.Everyone wants to be around him, everyone wants to hear what nuggetof wisdom or wit will come out of those sexy lips, and everyone wantsa piece of him.

Including me.

We are into ourthird round of drinks following dinner, and I mentally tell myselfthat this is the last one. I need to get to bed and get some sleep,needing to keep my mental processes sharp tomorrow. Matt definitelyrelied on my notes, often stopping several times in the deposition tolean over and quietly ask me to clarify something that had been said.

Taking another sipof my wine, I watch Matt standing off to the side, deep inconversation with one of the other attorneys. It should be anabsolute sin how good looking the man is, and another pang of longingand regret that we couldn’t have something hits me deep in mychest.

Someone jostles mybarstool, causing some of my wine to spill on my dress. I had changedfrom my plain black business suit to a jersey wraparound dress innavy blue for dinner, and grimaced when a large splash hit my lap.Turning around to glare, I come face to face with one of the otherattorneys that was in the depositions. His name is BrianSomething-Or-Other. When Matt introduced me to him earlier today, hiseyes immediately dropped to my breasts and he looked at themcontinually throughout the day.

He pushes in towardthe bar, knocking into me again. “Might want to have a littlemore care there,” I tell him testily.

He turns to me withbleary eyes, and yup… he’s drunk. Looking at me for amoment as if he doesn’t recognize me, his eyes finally focus abit and a sleazy smile takes over his face. Right on cue, his eyesdrop to my cleavage, which is on half display in this dress, and thenback up at me. He licks his lips and says, “Hey… you’reMatt’s paralegal, right? You were in the depositions today?”

And I sat acrossfrom you at dinner tonight for two hours, jerk. Good memory.

“I’m alawyer,” I tell him firmly.

“Right,”he says, like a bell just went off in his head. He leans in towardme, wobbling slightly, and pretends that this is just our littlesecret. “You are one sexy fucking lawyer.”

As if this couldn’tget any worse, a little bit of spittle flies from his mouth and hitsme on my chest. I look down in distaste, taking the napkin from undermy wine glass and dabbing at my skin. This sudden movement apparentlylures his gaze back down to my boobs, and he openly leers at them.

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