My first three years of Law School were relatively uneventful. I was at the top of my class. Yay for me. Big whoop. I was a genius. It's actually not fun being smart. To get an idea of what that's like, try spending a day with only the most inept, incompetent people you know; laugh at their lame jokes, cringe at their foolhardy attempts to do anything right, and nod your head in faux agreement at their idiotic talking points.

Needless to say, I felt quite lonely and isolated throughout my first two years at law school, a loneliness punctuated only by occasional visits from my genius of a little sister, Ema. It wasn't until my third year, when a bright young girl was auditing one of the classes I was in, that I finally felt able to connect to somebody. That girl was Mia Fey, who would soon become one of the finest defense attorneys the country has ever seen. If I had only listened to her, maybe I wouldn't be in the sorry state I'm in now.

I first took notice of her when she introduced herself in class. She was beautiful and articulate, but that's not what caught my attention. What caught my attention were her ideas. She spoke of "helping the innocent", and said that in her opinion, the only crime committed by many of the people in prisons was not having good attorneys, which was something she intended to remedy. As tempted as I was to brush off her ideas as Rousseauist delusions and wishful thinking, her conviction and superior articulation proved that she was quite intelligent, enough so that when she approached me after class, I actually enjoyed speaking to her. I was reading a bulletin on the wall when she first addressed me personally. "Hi there!" she said. "You're…Dana Sykes, right?"

I turned to her, a little annoyed that she'd messed up my name. "Lana…Lana Skye. You're…Mia Fey, correct?"

She nodded. "I'm auditing the class to save money. I only hope it's good enough for me to pass the Bar."

"Well," I said, "Merely passing the Bar will get you a license, but most of your potential clients, when they found out that you never graduated, will be wary of enlisting your services."

"I doubt that," Mia replied.

"Come again?"

She explained. "I interned at the Grossberg Law Offices. The chief, Marvin Grossberg, was more than happy to teach me his techniques. 'You're a natural!' he said. 'As soon as you get your degree, there will be an office waiting for you.' I want to be a defense attorney more than anything else, and Mr. Grossberg has made it really easy for me. I owe him a debt of gratitude, despite what he did to my mother."

I was puzzled. Why would she intern at such a place? "What idid/i Grossberg do to your mother?"

Mia looked crestfallen. "He ruined her career."

"How?"

"I'll tell you after I get to know you better and feel that I can trust you." She changed the subject. "I checked the class rankings from last semester, and it seems that you were on the top."

"That's correct," I said, trying my best not to sound conceited.

"If that's the case, I'd like to study with you."

I sized her up. "You may do so tonight," I said, "But we'll only continue if you don't hold me back, and if you're capable of finding at least a few of the answers on your own."

She smiled contentedly. "Suits me. Where should we study? Your place? My place? The library?"

It was a very easy decision for me. "The library. It's got better resources, and my dorm's a bit messy."

"Good choice. My dorm probably makes yours look cleaner than a courthouse."

I laughed. "That bad, huh? I'm already starting to like you, Mia Fey. Let's meet in the Law section at four-thirty, okay?"

"I'll be there."

That evening I showed up half an hour early just to make sure I could do all the studying I needed. Promptly at four-thirty, Mia showed up at my table. She had a book bag slung over her shoulder, and was carrying two lattes from the campus coffee shop. "Which would you like?" She asked with her usual cheery smile, "I've got hazelnut, or French vanilla."

I've never been much of a coffee connoisseur, so I asked for hazelnut. "Do you always drink coffee when you study?" I inquired.

"Oh," she looked slightly embarrassed, "When I was interning at Grossberg Law Offices, one of the lawyers there got me into it. His name was Diego Armando. He was quite handsome, very intelligent, and a real hotshot. He always called me 'kitten'."

"So he's a guy you were sleeping with?" I pressed, just to see her reaction. I like to know as much as I can about people before I trust them.

Mia's face turned bright red. "What?!! N-no, he was just one of my superiors! Our relationship was strictly professional." She looked away briefly, then chuckled to herself. "He's probably going to have a heart attack soon with how much coffee he drinks."

I was curious. "How much is that?"

"About forty mugs a day. And no, I'm not exaggerating."

I whistled. "Wow. He must have a bladder the size of a watermelon."

She sipped her coffee and sat down next to me. "So, you're going to be a prosecutor, huh? May I ask why?"

"I feel that justice needs to be done. Too many criminals have been getting away, and I intend to stop that," I said. "My actual plan, though, is to become a detective first so that I can learn how to decipher and gather evidence for myself."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. You're really gung-ho about this."

"So are you," I pointed out. Then, anxious to start my study, I opened a textbook and pointed to a certain passage. "What, in your opinion, would constitute mitigating circumstances in a murder case?"

Mia brushed her bangs out of her face. It was only now that I really took notice of her hair; it was very long, like mine, and a slightly lighter brown. "I'd say that the most important is the accused's history with the victim. For instance, if a woman kills her husband, the possibility always exists that he was abusing her. That alone wouldn't excuse her for murder, but I certainly think it should lessen her sentence a little." She understood, all right, although I was inclined to disagree with her on this particular issue.

As we continued studying, it became quite clear that her intellect was at the very least equal to mine. All she had trouble with was memorizing terminology, but she understood the concepts quite well. I had the opposite problem, so I felt we were perfect to study together. Realizing I had a good opportunity, I decided to get her opinion on a random issue. "How do you feel about hate crime legislation?" I asked her.

"I'm completely against it," she answered in an instant. "It tells me that the lives of women and minorities are more valuable than the rest of the population. Murder is murder, and whether or not you're bigoted against someone doesn't make it any worse."

Before I could add my input, the PA system announced that the library would be closing in five minutes. "Well, Mia Fey," I said, "I enjoyed studying with you. My sixth sense, which I use for determining whether or not to trust people, has never failed me. How about we study at my place tomorrow night? It may be a bit messy, but it's more comfortable, and it's quieter. What do you say?"

"I don't know," Mia said, "How do I know you won't drug me and try to have your way with me?" I stared at her, puzzled. She burst into laughter. "I'm just kidding! Of course I'll be there."

I laughed as well. It was actually a pretty good joke. "See you then."

The next night, Mia arrived, this time bringing a box of donut holes with her. "Bringing goodies again," I remarked. "And you claim it's me who's trying to seduce you."

Mia laughed and stepped in, closing the door behind her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Actually, I mainly brought these for myself, but if you'd like some, go ahead."

I eyed the box warily. "I'll probably just have a few. I'm trying to watch my figure. Aren't you?"

She shrugged. "I've always had really high metabolism. No matter how much I eat, I never seem to gain weight."

I growled at her in mock anger. "Lucky bitch."

We sat down on the floor at my coffee table. "So," she said, "What shall we discuss tonight?"

I thumbed through my notes. "How about evidence?"

"Sure," she nodded. "The first rule of evidence law is?"

I answered without hesitation. "No evidence may be shown in court without the prior approval of the police department. What's the other one?"

"Unapproved evidence must be shown to be relevant to the case at hand," she replied.

We continued on, using some sample pictures she had printed out to test our ideas. One was a picture of a knife with dried blood on the blade. "What do you notice about this knife?" she asked me.

I pointed to a spot on the blade that was free of blood. "It's already been to the lab for testing."

"Yes," she said, "What else?"

Squinting, I looked again and pointed to the handle. "It has fingerprints that have not yet been inked and lifted."

Mia nodded. "One more thing."

No matter how I looked, I could not find it. "What exactly are you talking about?"

She lightly gripped my hand and put my index finder right on the hilt. "It has been engraved with the owner's name."

I tilted my head. "So it has. It must be expensive, then."

"What does that tell you about the killer?"

Too easy. "Either he's rich, or he stole this from a rich person."

"No wonder you're at the top of the class," Mia admonished. I realized our hands were still touching, and pulled mine away in embarrassment. She blushed. "Sorry. I forgot about that."

"It's okay," I said, "Your hands are soft and warm, unlike my ex-boyfriend's."

"Oh?" She seemed interested. "What was he like?"

I shifted my legs into a more comfortable position. "He was a construction worker. He was rather sweet, but he had trouble listening."

"Well," she said, "That's the way it is. Men and women speak different languages. Guess you just didn't speak his. Anywho, please go on."

"His name was Reggie, and I met him when I was walking past his workplace, where he was pouring cement. What I really liked about him was that he was different from the guys at school. I'm a smart, strong, opinionated woman. The guys at the college have had so much PC crap put into their heads that they only listen to women to define their masculinity, so in effect, they castrate themselves. They were scared of me, but Reggie wasn't. He knew how strong I was, and since he works with other men, he's a real man. He thought I was cute. After we talked a couple times, he asked me to coffee and I accepted. We went out for a couple weeks before we started having sex. That wasn't really enjoyable, because his favorite thing to do was play with my breasts. Don't get me wrong," I said, seeing that she had raised an eyebrow at me, "I like roughness in the bedroom, but his hands were abrasive. I asked him to try putting lotion on his hands in the mornings, but it didn't help. I guess the reason we broke up was because we just…lost our chemistry. We're still friends, though."

"He was a lucky guy," Mia said, "Dating somebody as smart and hot as you."

I laughed. "Thank you. May I have a couple donut holes?"

"Certainly," she handed me the box, and I fished out a couple. They were glazed chocolate flavor. I ate them slowly. Mia gazed at me. "I see why Reggie thought you were cute."

I allowed some time to swallow before I answered. "Oh, you. Always with the compliments."

"I really mean them," she insisted.

I blinked, then looked into her eyes. I could tell she wasn't lying. "You mean you're…"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I'm bisexual. I've never dated a girl before, but I'm certainly open to it."

"Small world," I said, "I'm bi, too. I dated a girl a couple times in high school. It didn't last long, because she turned out to be totally straight, and already in a relationship. She had me make out with her in front of her boyfriend, and when I found out what was going on, I dumped her on the spot."

Mia nodded. "Wise decision."

Deciding there could be no harm in it at this point, I checked her out. Her hair was her most noticeable feature; it was sleek and brown, and went down to her waist. Her breasts were rather large, and looked completely natural, but the sexiest part of her body was definitely her legs; the fact that she always wore a skirt helped. "You're pretty hot yourself."

"Oh?" She said coyly, "Do you like what you see? Then how about seeing a little more?" She slowly pulled her skirt up, showing more of her slender thighs; I could feel my breathing getting heavier. Somehow, I snapped out of it and looked away.

"Let's get back to our studies before we start screwing," I said.

"Good idea," Mia pulled out a mini-cassette player. "This is a summary of an autopsy report. I think we should learn how to interpret these for ourselves."

"Sounds great to me," I said, getting a pencil.

Mia pressed the play button, and the report began. "Victim had several bruises on the body, and a small cut on the arm. There was a knife wound in his chest, which reached his heart. At the time, victim was wearing a thick leather jacket. However, due to the small size of the cut, we determined that the knife was not the cause of death. On closer inspection, the real cause of death was strangulation with a silk scarf."

Mia stopped the recording. "What does that tell you about the murderer?"

It was too easy. "The murderer was either a man or a strong, athletic woman. More likely the former."

"I also think," Mia added, "That it was the work of a professional killer. He doubtlessly tried to make it look like the knife wound caused the death to draw police suspicion on people who were carrying knives at the time."

I decided it was time for me to quiz her. "What is not admissible in court?"

She quoted the actual law almost verbatim. "Photographs taken in prison or holding cells, evidence unrelated to the case at hand, evidence shown without police department approval, and evidence obtained from places for which there was neither probable cause nor a warrant issued."

We continued our studies for a good ninety minutes. When we finally realized what time it was, it was late at night, and we had mastered everything that was covered in class that day. We stood up, but since I hadn't adjusted my legs at all, they were asleep. I wobbled around, and nearly collapsed when Mia caught me and helped me up. Her left arm was pressing against the underside of my breasts. Needless to say, I found it rather arousing; Mia, however, didn't let it control her, and she helped me stand straight. "Just walk it off, Lana," she instructed.

Before too long, the blood had returned to my legs, and I could stand on my own. "Thank you, Mia. Do you need a ride back to your dorm hall?"

"No thank you," she said, "This is my dorm hall. I live on the third floor."

"Oh," She hadn't told me that. "That'll make things easier." I opened the door for her, and she stepped towards it.

I wasn't entirely prepared for what Mia did next. I was leaning against the wall; she moved in close, lightly pressing her large breasts against mine, which were average size. In her white platform shoes, she was a couple inches taller than me; she leaned down, her head bearing down near my left shoulder, and inhaled deeply. "You smell lovely, Lana. Like…roses."

I did the same with her. "You smell like jasmine." She pulled her head away from my shoulder and stared into my eyes. I stroked her cheek with my hand and lightly kissed her on the lips. "Is this what's meant by 'intellectual stimulation'?"

Mia grinned, and touched her forehead to mine. "Whether it is or isn't," she said, "It's hot." She stepped away. "I'd love to continue, but I need to get up early tomorrow to go jogging."

"Jogging?" I asked. "What time? Maybe I could go with you."

"Six AM. Ten kilometers. Can you handle that?"

I let out a scoff. "Of course. Do you really think I can stay in this good shape without exercising a lot?"

"I'll be waiting at the front entrance," she said, "And if you're not there after ten minutes, I'll start without you."

"Sure thing, hon," I took her hand in mine, brought it up to my mouth and kissed the back of it, our fingers brushing as she walked out.

I made sure to set my alarm clock for five-thirty, as I was almost too excited to sleep that night.

***

The alarm clock blared and I hit it on top, and rolled out of bed. As soon as my brain overcame its grogginess, I jumped up, pulled off my pajamas, and slipped into a t-shirt, running shoes, and jogging shorts and put my hair into a ponytail.

I went out to the front entrance and saw that Mia hadn't arrived yet. I sat on the ground and began stretching. First, I put my ankle on a trash can to stretch my calves. When I got to my glut stretch, which I did by spreading my feet apart and touching my hands on the ground, I felt a hand lightly slap my rear. It wasn't entirely surprising given our farewell the previous night. "Hello, Mia," I said without breaking my stretch.

She was apparently inspecting my back. "You're not wearing a bra," she remarked.

I stood up and looked at her. She was wearing high-stretched socks, skimpy spandex shorts, and a sports bra, and her hair was in a ponytail just like mine. I was going to have a hard time concentrating on the route. "No, I hate wearing bras. They really irritate my skin. Besides, I don't know why, but I've always felt much more comfortable in men's clothing."

"Reggie didn't mind?" She asked.

"Ha! Of course not. If anything, I'd say he had a fetish for women in men's clothing. Like I said, he was a real man who wasn't intimidated by me."

She had finished her own stretching, so we began our jog. We were both in good enough shape to talk while we exercised. "Do you still talk to Reggie?" She asked.

"Not that often," I said, "I don't want to lead him on and let him down again. I'm sure he's still in love with me. His voice always sounds so longing. But enough about me. What are your parents like?"

"My father is hardly ever around," Mia said, looking somewhat resentful, "But my mother disappeared about thirteen years ago. She's a spirit medium." I fell behind Mia for a second. She'd said 'spirit medium' as casually as if she'd have said 'nurse', 'lawyer', or 'architect'. I put on a little burst of speed to catch back up with her. "If you keep checking out my ass, you're bound to crash into something sooner or later," she warned, even though it was not my intention to do so.

"What do you mean, 'spirit medium'?" I demanded.

"Just that," Mia said. "It's an ability that flows in the Fey blood. Ever since my earliest known ancestor, Ami, all the women in my family have exhibited strong supernatural powers."

"All the women?" I probed further. "Then, does that mean that…"

"Yes," she said, knowing just what I was going to ask, "I do it, too. Of course I'm nowhere near as skilled as my mother, who was the family's last master. But I assure you, it's the real thing. I'll even show you sometime if you like."

I was certainly interested to see how she would pull this one off. At that point in my life, I didn't believe in anything even remotely supernatural. I compared life to the court room: if there was evidence to support it, I believed in it. "Sure. When is the next time you can do it?"

"Tonight, if you're free."

"I am," I said. "What will you need?"

"Just something I've got in my dorm, and a picture of the deceased."

I already had an idea for what I wanted Mia to do. "Okay. I've got a few errands to run later on, so could you stop by at five?"

"No problem."

"So, where are you originally from?" I asked.

"Kurain village" she answered. "It's a small settlement a couple miles outside of Little Tokyo. My mother is currently the master of the village."

"I thought she disappeared."

"She did," Mia said, "About thirteen years ago. Once somebody has been away from the village for twenty years, they're officially dead on our records." There was a vending machine nearby. Mia slowed down and stopped in front of it. "I've got no problem telling you now, but my throat's getting a bit dry," she explained. "Want a Gatorade?"

"No thanks," I said, "I hate the stuff. Water's much better."

She put a few coins in the machine as I sipped from a nearby drinking fountain.. Both of us were sweating, flushed, hot, and breathing heavily. She grotesquely ripped the cap off the bottle and dumped it into her mouth. Some of it didn't go in, and trickled down to the front of her sports bra. As tempted as I was to stare at her breasts, I resisted the urge, keeping in mind that she was about to tell me one of her more closely-guarded secrets. I looked her in the face as she spoke. "My mother was commissioned by a lawyer to summon a murder victim's spirit to identify his true murderer. He fingered a man who was ruled to be innocent by the judge. Marvin Grossberg, who was our family's attorney, sold the story to a blackmailer who published it in the media." Her voice began cracking. "My mother was disgraced, and left the village. I'm just hoping that I can find the man responsible, get him to confess, and convince my mom to come back home. Having her gone was hard enough for me, but my little sister Maya was hurt even more by it."

She looked like she was about ready to cry. I draped my arm over her shoulders and rubbed her upper left arm with my hand. "I know what you're going through," I sympathized. "About ten years ago, my parents died in a car accident and left me alone with my little sister, Ema. She's a really bright kid, and when you start talking to her about science, she lights up like a Roman Candle. The only problem is she's really been clinging to me since she barely knew our mother. I can't show any weakness in front of her, because I'm all she's got. But I wouldn't trade the world for her. In the end, it's her determination that keeps me going. I'm sure Maya would be proud to see how well you're doing in class."

"You really think so?" She asked, turning her head toward me.

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" I smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Mia wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. "Thank you, Lana. You're a great friend."

"Not a problem," I said, running my hands up and down her back. Our combined body heat made the hug uncomfortable very quickly, so we split. Mia finished her Gatorade, dropped the bottle in a nearby trash can, and we continued our jog.

"So," Mia asked, "What do you plan on wearing in court?"

"When my mother was alive, she was a Captain in the Coast Guard. Her uniform fits me quite nicely, so I thought it'd be a nice tribute to her."

"Sounds hot," Mia said. "I'll be wearing my black-and-white blazer and a skirt. When Mr. Grossberg saw me in it, he wanted to make me the mascot of Grossberg Law Offices. I declined, of course."

"Too bad," I said. "If you'd agreed, you probably would have doubled Grossberg's clientele."

Mia laughed. "Is that so?"

I stared intently at her breasts, following them with my eyes as they bounced. "Oh yes. I have no doubt."

She laughed again. "If that's how you're thinking, maybe I'll start up my own firm once I've earned enough money working for Grossberg."

"That works, too." At that point, our conversation stopped as we were getting too short of breath to do much more talking. We got back to our dorm hall about twenty minutes later, and stretched again. "I'm gonna take a shower now, then I'll go down to the Laundromat and the credit union. I should be back by five for the channeling."

"All right. I'll be preparing myself. See you then, hon," She kissed me, and went up the stairs to her room.