01. The Hijacking

"I love you." It was quietly whispered amid hurried kisses. But she heard it. Michonne opened her eyes and observed Mike as they kissed. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead as it was getting pretty hot and heavy. Noticing how Michonne's aggressive kissing had dwindled Mike opened his eyes and found her watching him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Mike said with a sigh. Shit. Shit. Shit. Removing herself from him, Michonne readjusting her breast back into her bra and tied the sash of her five drops of perfume robe tightly. The night was officially ruined.

"Hey. Please, don't do that. Mich, I didn't mean-"
"Don't."
"I fucked up, but do we need to stop?" Michonne scoffed at how desperate he sounded.

"Yes, we do. Nothing dries pussy up like those three words, Mike." Michonne took a sip from the glass of wine she had abandoned earlier.

Mike shook his head in disbelief. Most women would get wetter at that exclamation, he knew that. Evidently, Michonne wasn't like most women.

"No feelings. No attachment. Just sex. I told you, if this…" Michonne hissed motioning between herself and Mike with her index finger. "If this changed, if you caught feelings it would be over. Get out."

After Mike had left the penthouse Michonne made quick work of deleting his number and blocking him. What a waste of good vitamin D source. What was it with every man she tried to have a healthy FWB relationship with and them catching feelings? These city boys and their delicate feelings were trying her last nerve. Maybe I should start fucking women? Groaning loudly at her woes Michonne began to scroll through her contact list. Without her boy-toy to keep her occupied and the weekend quickly approaching, she needed to find a sacrificial lamb ASAP.

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"…and don't forget to shave your face, Grizzly. All that grey? Shit ain't cute." Shane barked before stuffing his face with milkshake dipped fires. Rick's stomach twisted at the mention of his blind date.

"Hol'up. What's with the face? Listen! You're not cancelling, no way in hell, brother. Candy would fucking kill me. Besides, you need this."

"It's just…" Rick hesitated. He hadn't been on a first date since college. Now here he was, a few hours before turning 40, divorced and apparently so desperate that his best friend had set him up on blind date.

Balancing fatherhood and his job as a sheriff's deputy proved to be quite the puzzle. Being Lori's husband was all he knew for a long time and to be thrown off course at the age of 39? Yeah, that shit was a major setback. It was a failure. Rick wouldn't admit it but he'd grown bitter and being by himself, occupying himself with work and Carl anesthetized the ache. He had his son every other week and although life wasn't how he imagined it would be; it was bearable. Lonely, but bearable.

Shane, though somewhat reckless in setting him up with a friend of his current girlfriend – was right. Rick needed this. The company of a woman. The women in Kings County wouldn't come near him. Rick was forever pigeonholed as Lori's ex-husband, and if he wasn't good enough for her, he wouldn't be good enough for the next woman (particularly not when Lori, now Lori Neuman, was a prominent soccer mom).

"No, I'm doing it." Rick shook his head of any uncertainties crawling in his mind. "I'm just supposed to walk into this totally clueless?"

"Relax, old man. Look, you know her name. She knows yours. I think Candy gave her a description of you, just pick her up at the office as planned. You telling me this shit isn't exiting?"

"I don't know if I'd call it exiting. I wish I had a face with the name that's all."

"You don't trust me? Scared we've set you up with an Edna Turnblad look-a-like?" Shane laughed hard at his own comedy. "Don't worry, she's right up your alley."

"My alley? What does that even mean?" Rick frowned.

"Well you know…" Shane squirmed a little, how was he supposed to say what he was really thinking? "She's… just a nice lady who happens to have baggage, like you. And she's not from here. I mean, that's what you want, right?" Rick wanted to say no, but, if he was being honest with himself: Yes. If a nice woman was giving this old, divorced, single dad a chance – who was he to be finicky? He couldn't afford to be finicky.

"Yeah." Rick tried to hide the sting of hurt caused by Shane's offhand comment. Baggage. Something you're burdened to carry with you. His failed marriage sure as hell is – but not Carl. That boy is his pride and joy. "I can't wait."

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The black bodycon stopped below her knees, its mock-neck covering her chest (much to Rosita's annoyance) but her toned arms were on full display. And it was tight - boastfully tight.

"Walk for me." Michonne obeyed, taking a few steps around her office. "Yes, that's what I'm talking about! I was worried the dress was too tight to get the ass-jiggle. I feel sorry for the poor bastard. Sacrificial lamb nr. 5, right?" Rosita slumped down onto the black leather couch in their office, exhausted after a long day of work. They worked hard, so hard they were literally getting ready in their office on a Friday night.

"Aw, don't be. And it' nr. 7." Michonne said. "The little shit wouldn't stop asking me out, thought I'd teach him a lesson in 'staying in your own lane 101 with professor M. Anthony'." Michonne shrugged as she rummaged through her make-up bag.

One successful case was all it took.
Fresh out of Law school Michonne had a hard time finding a firm that would hire her. That was expected, work wasn't easy to come by in the city and especially not if your name wasn't worth shit. Back then Michonne's name wasn't worth shit. She had struggled and worked two jobs to get herself through the hell known as Law School. But she did get herself through it and after some time she finally found a small – insignificant- firm amongst the "big dogs" that wanted to hire her.

Deanna Monroe, the woman behind the firm was a fierce, meticulous woman dedicated to bring down every sexual predator under the sun. Working with mostly women and children who were victims of sexual crimes, the job was hard and the hardest part: there were always new victims and they seemed to only get younger. The pay was awful but being able to help was everything. The sense of retribution when a predator was sent behind bars, knowing the literal ass fuck that was awaiting them was Michonne's drive.

Three years ago, George Matteo, a man who had suffered sexual abuse in the hands of a Catholic priest sought their aid. The case was tough, dangerous and at moments even impossible. The victim was in his late forties and his abuser was in his late seventies. Many potential witnesses were already dead or too fragile minded to ever be put on stand.

By tracking down other victims, going undercover and infiltrating various groups Michonne poured everything she had to this case and soon their impossible case was followed by the entire nation. It created a media frenzy.

It dragged on for over 14 months before justice could be served. They won. The victims walked away with justice and 17 million dollars in compensation. Mr. Matteo who was dying in cancer donated a hefty amount to Monroe Law and after months of media exposure; Monroe Law was now amongst the 'big dogs'- rightfully so. After years of being her own assistant, paralegal, and of course lawyer - Michonne finally had an assistant and Rosita was her paralegal.

And naturally, with great success comes fuck-boys. Hotshots, smug womanizing little shit lawyers wanting to wine and dine Michonne, carry her around as if she was an accessory. Sadly, for them Michonne was a certified fuck-boy eater. She'd play them in their own game and sometimes if she was feeling more petty than horny, she's walk away with their clientele.

"And what exactly does the lesson entail?" Rosita asked as she scrolled through Spencer's IG, carefully, so she didn't accidentally like anything.

"Oh, you know. A lot of expensive food and beverage, on his tab of course. Getting him wasted and keeping him talking before screwing him over both sexually and business wise. " Michonne dabbed some Trophy Wife over her shoulders and cupids bow.

Upon entering the reception area outside their office Michonne noticed that her assistant, Jessie hadn't gone home and that she was looking all sorts of extra.
"Woah! Michonne, you look stunning! Are you going out on a date?" Jessie squealed behind the reception counter. Of course Jessie knew Michonne was going out on a date, as she did most weekends and strangely enough, she'd come back on Monday morning with more clients to register. That part was a mystery to Jessie.

Either way, she keep her opinions about her boss' lifestyle to herself. Though Michonne had always been cordial and genuinely nice, Jessie had heard the rumors of how ruthless she could be, especially to anyone she was involved with romantically. That was another thing Jessie couldn't understand. Why would you be rude to a potential husband? If a man is ready to marry you, why entertain fleeting affairs?

"Yes! A hot date and hopefully hot sex!" Rosita answered before rushing off to the toilets. Rolling her eyes at her friend and co-worker, Michonne returned her focus to Jessie who'd changed into a neon pink dress with small banana prints and evening make up.

"Oooh, I see that I'm not the only one with a hot date this evening, Miss Anderson." Michonne purred. "You should've told me, you really didn't have to stay this late."

Jessie blushed. "Oh, it's really no bother. Besides it's a blind date. I figured it would be better to meet up here in caste he's a wacko."

"Smart thinking. Do you know anything about him?"

"His name is Rick, that's all I know. Gosh, I'm so excited. Candy – that's my friend who set me up. She said he's really handsome... Um…This isn't too much, is it? I don't want to look desperate?" Jessie asked standing up to show Michonne her outfit.

The blonde woman did have an annoying obsession with settling down and finding a good step-dad for her sons (since her ex-husband ran off with the nanny). Michonne had sympathy for the woman, she really did but for Jessie's sake (and for her own sanity) Michonne needed her to find a future husband soon. Frankly, everybody was tired of hearing her constant complaining and unrealistic dreams of finding a great, never ending love. Guess some people never learn from their mistakes.

"You look great." Michonne said. The dress was… unconventional but then again Jessie was peculiar like that. "All right, I should get going. Have fun and I'll see you on Monday. "

Rosita had just left and Michonne was waiting for her sacrificial Lamb to arrive when she spotted a slightly bowlegged man saunter in. For the first time in… for the first time period, Michonne did a double take.

Hold the fuck up.

He was tall. Handsome. Scratch that, the man was gorgeous. Curly brown hair, defined sideburns with a little grey. Clean shaven. A jawline that looked carved by Michelangelo himself. The icing on the cake – a pair of icy blue eyes. Well hello, cowboy. He walked with confidence and oozed natural sex appeal.

Judging by the modest bouquet in his hand, his nervous mannerism and how well dressed he was it became clear to Michonne that this handsome, sex on legs cowboy was Jessie's date. Miss Neon Banana print dress gets to go out with this? Had the Universe lost its damn mind? Dear Lord, look at those thick thighs. Michonne almost groaned out aloud.

She had to tell him that his date was anxiously waiting for him on floor 10. Michonne walked towards the handsome stranger. Deliberately adding that roll to her hips. His eyes finally locked on hers and he looked her up and down. He looked behind himself, then back at Michonne before swallowing. His Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

Rick needed to assure himself that this beautiful woman was in fact walking to him. Did Shane really set me up with her? She was absolutely stunning. A masterpiece with her shiny mahogany skin, beautiful eyes and that body? Shit. Her hair looked like black silk ropes cascading over her shoulder. How the hell is this… this goddess right up my alley? He could hear Shane's words in his head. Baggage? Whatever baggage she had, Rick was willing to carry them on his back. Whatever skeletons she had in her closet, he'd help her bury them in his backyard. He swallowed nervously. Need assaulted him. She came closer, a small smile gracing her heart-shaped mouth. Rick could see the mirth and mischief in her dark eyes. Oh my Goodness.

Standing only a few feet away, the scent of her delicious perfume was the first thing that greeted him. The dark beauty finally spoke. "Are you Rick?"

Her voice was like her; deep, rich and sultry. He closed his eyes, just for a second, before answering with a nod. Rick didn't trust his ability to speak just yet. Gracing him with a pearly white smile, the beauty raised an elegantly manicured hand.

"Hi, Rick. I'm Jessie."

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A/N: Michonne. Did. That. I hope you enjoyed. I apologize for any errors. Appreciate reviews, advice and/or constructive criticism. Chapter 2 is already done. Thank you for reading.