Part 4

For the first time in what appeared to be an eternity George wished she could have sloped off for the day. The midnight adventures had caught up with her, causing her to become even more irritable and lack a sense of compassion she usual managed to maintain in court. Setting her belongings back in her locker she wondered who exactly would keep her company for the evening, lest she be on her own. Not wanting the mindless f u c k she'd get from Neil, George found herself wafting up to chambers, (bee lining) making a bee-line to John's lair, knocking politely on the door and ignoring the call to go away. It gave her the slight sense of belonging as she smiled, pushing the door aside.

"George," John stated in mocked surprise, it had been a little concealed secret that he knew who was at his door by the sound of their footfall. Standing up from his desk chair he moved Mimi from her perch on the sofa and offered her the seat. "Any particular reason you're here?" he observed her flounder for a moment before accepting his offer and sitting down beside him.

"I was wondering if you had Connie Beauchamp's details, I want to ask her to be an expert witness for my case," George asked, evading his gaze, knowing that if their eye's locked for anything more than a nanosecond the feeling's she was in turmoil with would surface.

"Is that all you want her number for?" John quipped, turning his head to one side as she let her hands chaff uncomfortably, gazing at the window that had become all the more interesting.

"Yes, John, last night was fun, experimental, interesting, call it what you will, but don't dam me with any more," slightly aghast at her spiel, John sat in contented silence, ignoring the fact she knew as well as he did that this woman had wriggled under her skin in only a matter of hours; it was an odd ominous feeling that had overcome him, yet somehow he'd managed to put it aside for the meantime, hoping to deal with it when the time came.

"I can give you her details if that's how much you want to meet her again, but next time why not invite me along too, if only to be a fly on the wall," immediately hitting him in the stomach playfully George broke a smile, he had a point: though never admitting to it, she would dapple with men and woman; granted the latter had not occurred since she'd been in uni but then bound for a life in court meant private lives could be kept as such.

"John Deed, you'll be the death of me," she retorted, standing to get a drink from the cabinet that lay still in the corner of the airy room, sloshing generous amounts of alcohol into the cut glass tumblers.

"Didn't take you to be an alcoholic," John smirked, accepting the drink with his usual ease, slightly taken aback that it had been her who had offered him and not the other way around. Watching her slump uneasily onto the sofa he let silence fall on them, she clearly had something to say but forcing it out of her would be pointless, it would only serve to close her up further.

"She has a use for the case," George stated eventually, drinking the remainder of the amber liquid with speed, making a point to stand up and leave John alone. It had been her way since she'd met him to blast in on him, have two minutes of his time to just be and then leave and not speak to him for weeks.

"Is that all," he stated slowly, "or do you want to meet her because you two clearly shared something new and positively delightful last night that is making you doubt everything you know?" turning to face him so she could reply properly, George stumbled, attempting to find words that were clearly not there.

"I… just… well I felt so good this morning that it's concerning me," George mumbled, returning to the seat where John sat with a contented smile on his face, it had been an exceptionally long time since he'd seen her this wound up over something, or someone for sake or argument.

"Let her go George, thinking about it will only make you even more depraved," the smirk mimed on her own lips as he let out a stifling laugh, it wasn't that she was Satan's daughter, it was more a series of unfortunate events that had led to her to close up to anyone who got too close, mostly people took this as a sign to back off but in the case of John it posed itself as an invitation to delve deeper and find out the real cause of all her grief. This was why they enjoyed a love hate relationship.

"You're probably right, barring being a witness for this case she's going to have little reason to be around me, it wasn't like…" She trailed off not being able to complete the sentence, for fear of being incriminated by the courts, heaven help her her father, she wasn't sure if it was the risk worth taking, "I enjoyed it or anything." She stopped smiling to herself for being courageous for once.

"Well she made you, and for the record, me, come delightfully. You never know what will come of the relationship George; she may need your help soon and you hers, however for the meantime I'm here," his request was obvious and since her relationship with Neil was tenuous on a good day. There was only so many days she could go with coming home to a silent kitchen, make a lazy dinner for one, face the argument when he came home at gone ten o clock and demanded food, then a mindless screw. Feeling's had no place in their home, it was something she missed, being able to cry into a bottle of wine of an evening, laugh at a comedy film, be who she was not George Channing, wife of Neil, spouse of Neil, relative of Neil.

Leaning in towards John she let him snake an arm around her, holding her tight, not for want of a post to grab on during passionless s e x but for being her. "This is highly unlawful," she mumbled as his grip only got tighter, it felt reassuring to have his heartbeat so close to hers, reminding her of the moments they would spend together on a Sunday morning, tucked up in bed together with little to care about.

"Do you ever stop?" he replied simply, leaving her feeling unsure of what he meant, talking or thinking about law? Both of which she was always capable of doing, whether she realised it or not

"Stop what?" he fondled a lock of her hair between his finger's chaffing at the natural blonde strands, liking at his skin like gold, not of money but of love.

"Being so likeable, loveable, admirable," feeling the effects of his verbal drabble come to him in the form of her hand landing on the end of his zip, letting her finger swirl the bunching fabric that lay tender on his lap. Smiling slightly as he let her lie out on top of him properly, her tender body lying in the weight of his hands, her flimsy top removing itself by some mysterious force as they felt their bodies entwine, leg over leg, skirt under trouser, bare leg on bare leg, bra on shirt, breast on breast, feeling her hand lace round his pride and joy felt immensely pleasurable, as if they were back in their twenties, he the master, she the student, the person meant to mentor her prising her insecurities to the surface of her soul before carving them out in a passionate crest of ecstasy. His lips encased hers swiftly bringing her to the point of no return by the mere flick of her nipple, consuming her groan with a kiss, long and lasting as he trailed further down her dewy skin letting his fingers glaze over her smooth entrance, lifting her legs apart George could already fell the wetness growing as her body surged through the torrent of emotion lacing in her veins as if he were some sort of lecherous poison. Slipping inside her he played on his old trick, giving his fingers space to move over her clit so the come was all the more unbearable, excitable, out of control, something he savoured since it was all she ever did. Hearing her groan forced the wax confining her to the realms of constraint melt her to nothing.

"Now do you feel so confused?" John mutters as they lie in comfortable afterglow, the heady mix of alcohol, life and sex making them content, if only for the evening……