Paul Pleads His Case by thekmb
As Paul pushed through the private door with a "Hiya, Perry" and strode toward the desk where the attorney sat, he heard the door to Della's office closing. He whipped his head toward the sound, but was deprived a glimpse of the one woman he knew he could never have. Damn, he thought, but didn't say aloud. Sighing, he turned back to Perry, and started, "I've got those reports you…"
He trailed off as he noticed that Perry's chin was resting in his palm, eyes fixed on the door that his secretary had just exited through. "Yoo-hoo, earth to Perry Mason…" Paul sat down on the corner of the desk smirking, and waved his hand in front of his buddy's face. The man is smitten. Hopelessly smitten. Paul knew the look, as he was sure that he sported that same pathetic, mooning expression every time a pretty girl passed within a hundred yards of him.
Perry, as if he had just noticed Paul, dropped his hand and sat up straight, reluctantly shifted his gaze away from Della's door, and asked impatiently, "What is it, Paul?"
Paul shook his head and whistled softly. "Boy, you do have it bad, don't you?"
Ignoring the question, Perry asked, "Just what are you here for, Paul?" with a frown and an edge to his voice.
"Seriously, pal, when're you gonna tell her how you feel? I can see that it's eating you up." Paul pleaded gently, not catching on that Perry really wasn't in the mood for his brotherly advice.
He certainly didn't expect Perry to explode. "You know what, Paul? As far as I know, I still pay you to work for me! So why don't you earn your keep for once instead of sticking your nose into something that you know nothing about!"
Paul was startled by Perry's raised voice and harsh words, and his eyes widened momentarily. Where the devil did that come from?! He can't mean it. "Perry, I…just…" Clearing his throat, he regained his composure and changed the subject. "Here's everything I could dig up on Johnson Macabee. It's not much. I've had Faulkner sitting on him all night, and, so far, nothing out of the ordinary."
Perry's eyes were still clouded over and seemed to have turned a darker shade of blue than normal. He took the folder from Paul's extended hand, and set it down on his desktop. "Thank you, Paul; that will be all," he stated perfunctorily, and looked down at the folder without opening it. He rested his elbows back on the desk, and began to rub his palms together.
Paul let the silence settle for a moment, thinking about the best way to make his exit. He had rarely seen Perry this upset, and he felt guilty for aggravating him. It wasn't like Perry was ever going to win a Mr. Congeniality contest. He was often distracted and stressed by a tough case, but this Macabee thing was small potatoes. It had to be something else. Correction: someone else. He slid off the desk, looked at the floor, then back at Perry. Perry continued to stare at the untouched file folder. Paul decided that he couldn't leave without trying to reason with the usually unruffled, but now obviously distraught lawyer. "Perry, for the love of Pete, let's discuss this! We both know that Della is special. And I've never seen you in this kind of state over a gal. You're in over your head on this one, but if you wait much longer, some other guy is going to snap her up."
Perry's head whipped up and he locked eyes with Paul. He practically bellowed, "How exactly did you get your detective license, Mr. Drake? I should think that it would take but a simple deduction to figure out that you're not needed here. Especially not for your insights on women." Perry held the stare, and the coldness of his tone nearly caused Paul to shiver.
Paul had had enough. He strode toward the door, but stopped before he reached for the doorknob. He turned back, crossed his arms across his chest, and raised his voice to match the volume of the attorney's. "You know what? For someone who's supposed to be brilliant, you sure can be an idiot sometimes. If you want to make a fool of yourself, go ahead. And for the record, it doesn't take a private eye to see that you're head over heels for her! The dopey look you get on your face every time she smiles at you, how you go out of your way to touch her elbow… If you're too stupid to admit that you want her, then maybe I'll make my move!" He clamped his mouth shut as soon as the words came out, knowing that they would cut like a knife.
"Get out!" Perry yelled, his eyes shooting lasers across the room.
Paul opened his mouth as if to retort, then closed it again just as quickly. He turned and grabbed the doorknob, yanking the huge door open, and without looking back, slammed it shut behind him.
Too late, Perry shouted childishly, "And lock the door on your way out!"
Perry stared angrily at the door for another several seconds, but then suddenly dropped his head down and buried his face in his palms. What have I done? he thought with instant regret. Paul's right, I am an idiot. God practically handed me the perfect woman, and now I can't even tell her how I feel. He rubbed his hands down his face until they met under his chin. In despair, he let his palms fall to the desk, and lowered his forehead to rest on the backs of his fingers.
He heard a soft click across the room and didn't have to look up to know that Della had stepped in. He could always feel her presence in any room. Hell, I can practically feel her body heat through the closed door when she's in her office. He moaned softly into his hands. Oh, Lord. I do have it bad. He hated to admit that Paul had him dead to rights. And instead of accepting his offer of help, all I could do was say something to deliberately hurt his feelings. I don't deserve either one of them. Della quietly shut the door behind her and engaged the lock, but Perry didn't stir.
Listening to the soft patting of her shoes, he kept his eyes closed and imagined exactly what she looked like walking across the carpet. He knew what she was wearing, of course. He had taken the opportunity that morning to memorize her from head to foot as he did every day while she retrieved his coffee. She had on a fitted pale pink blazer over a white blouse, which was unbuttoned just enough to cause Perry to take a sharp intake of breath as he pictured the perfect neck that he longed to put his mouth on. Her skirt hugged her … lower half … and her legs… Oh, God, those legs... Pull yourself together, Mason! he chastised himself.
Della had made her way around to his chair. Just as he caught the first hint of her perfume, she put her left hand on the desk, slid her right arm gently across his shoulders and leaned over his hunched figure. It felt as if her lips were practically touching his ear as she asked, in that soft, somewhat throaty voice, "What's wrong, Chief? What can I do? Are you ill?" He stayed frozen in the same position, still feeling defeated, but at the same time, hyper-aware of her touch, her scent, her breath. "Chief?" she repeated, then hesitated. "I heard the yelling. That was Paul, wasn't it?"
"Mm-hmm" was all he could reply. I've screwed things up for good this time. I lashed out at my best friend for trying to help me get my head screwed on straight. Paul saw right through me. But he was wrong about one thing. For all my bravado and eloquence in the courtroom, I'm anything but brilliant. Della had become more important to him than any case or client could ever be. She was, both professionally and personally, the best thing that had ever happened to him. He desperately wanted to add "romantically" to that list, but he had gone over and over the consequences of giving in to his desire, and concluded that the final outcome would always be him losing the best secretary and companion that he could ever dream of having. He had thought that his hunger for her might fade over time. But almost a year had passed since she had first walked into his office, and he felt the burning growing stronger by the day.
And now, that one woman that I can't resist, but also mustn't touch, is whispering in my ear. The thought caused another small moan to escape his lips.
Now Della was really worried. She'd never seen her boss like this. She ached to comfort him, but wasn't sure how far she could go while maintaining at least some air of professionalism. This hardly seemed like the time to worry about that, though. She stepped back to pull her chair over to his, her knees now lighting brushing against his thigh. She lightly rested her right hand on his shoulder and brought her left hand up to push a stray lock of hair back into place.
His skin burned everywhere Della touched him and he turned his face away to avoid having to make eye contact with her. If I look into those beautiful hazel eyes, I won't be able to stop myself this time. He could feel the tightening below his belt and knew that there would be no way to disguise his arousal if he stood up and bolted. Seriously, Mason, you're thinking about running away from her? Are you a little boy? Have you any self-control? The answer to that last question was obviously no.
Della dropped her hand quickly, resting it on his forearm, causing him to stiffen slightly. She instantly regretted her forwardness. She and Perry had a very close relationship - one that she wished could be much closer. She'd never met anyone like Perry Mason, and doubted that she ever would again. He was the most handsome, intelligent, intense and gallant man that she had ever met. Even though it had become almost routine, she still could hardly believe that he took her out to dinner nearly every night, and counted on her to be his escort and dance partner at whatever the gala event-of-the-month was. But she also knew that, despite their easy rapport and more-than-occasional flirting, Perry would never cross the line into inappropriate behavior. So what on earth am I doing? It's one thing to daydream about your boss, but now he probably thinks I'm throwing myself at him. He's obviously upset, and all I can think about is how much I'd like to take advantage of the situation? Some trusted secretary I am.
But then again, she mused, there is that expression that he gets when he thinks I'm not looking. Not like the leers from other men, who didn't even try to disguise their lustful stares. She had spent many more hours than she would like to admit wondering if Perry felt the same way she did…the electricity when they touched, the skipped heartbeat when their eyes met, the reluctance to say goodnight and step away when he dropped her home after a late night dinner or work session.
Dammit, get ahold of yourself, Della! This is your boss, not your schoolgirl crush, and he needs your support right now! She pulled both her hands back and crossed her arms under her chest. She kept her voice low, hoping that she sounded sincere and professional. "C'mon, let's talk this out. What happened when Paul was in here? I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."
Perry was utterly chagrined that Della had caught him in such a weak moment. He tried to pull himself together and regain some sense of dignity. He lifted his head slowly, rubbing the nape of his neck, and turned back just enough that he was now looking straight ahead…a mistake, because he could now see Della in his peripheral vision. And, oh, her perfume. He furrowed his brow and began to wring his hands in earnest, pressing his thumb against his palm so hard that he left a pink mark. It didn't sound like she had heard the subject of his quarrel with Paul, but how was he going to explain the yelling? How am I going to talk my way out of this when I can't even think straight in her presence today? Why can I spin a story in the courtroom at a moment's notice, but I'm speechless when it counts?
"You two are best friends. What ever could you have fought about?" Della was perplexed that Perry wouldn't look her in the eye. All of the sudden self-conscious, she couldn't seem to stop herself from rattling on. "I mean, the only thing that I've ever seen Paul get flustered about is a girl, and I'm sure that's not …" Perry stiffened again, his hands froze, and she abruptly stopped as her neck and face flushed. How wrong could I have been? Perry and Paul were fighting over a woman. He's not interested in me! He's after one of those bombshells that are always throwing themselves at him. Della couldn't help but feel jealous whenever she saw a female client or witness shamelessly trying to seduce him. Do your job, Della, she admonished herself now.
"OK, Boss." Now that she knew what the problem was, she was determined to help him solve it and prove that she was worth the generous salary that she received. "We can work this out. You may be the expert at criminal law, but, luckily, you have a secretary who is an expert in matters of the female persuasion." She kept her tone light, but she felt like she would choke on her words as she heard the hypocrisy in them. An expert, huh? Or a stupid girl who dared to think that a famous, sophisticated lawyer would be interested in his simple small-town secretary? Some intuitive genius I am.
But she was determined to save face and help Perry and Paul at the same time. At least now she knew Perry's real feelings, and maybe she could move on from her silly fantasies. She stood, self-consciously smoothed her skirt, and strode around to the front of the desk. She gracefully crossed her legs at the ankles, placed her palms on the desk and leaned forward, forcing Perry to look at her. "Tell me all about it, and we'll figure this out. You and Paul have been friends for too long to have a little spat over a woman break you up. Besides, where are we going to find another slightly goofy P.I. on such short notice, especially one with an office down the hall? And whatever would we do with all our leftover food?" she asked playfully, hoping to prompt a smile from Perry.
"Della, I…" Perry was at a loss. He could hardly breathe with her face so close to his. What would she do if I just leaned forward right now and kissed her? He tried to push the idea out of his head and think clearly. How am I going to get out of this jam? She will know if I'm not telling the truth. And now she thinks that I have my eye on one of Paul's parade of pretty faces. She's certainly right about my limited understanding of women. I've already botched this good, and she'll see right through me if I make up a story. He decided to tell the truth. Sort of. At least enough of it to end this incredibly painful conversation so that he could go in the bathroom and splash cold water on his face. "It was about a girl." He corrected himself, "A woman."
"I knew it!" Della smiled triumphantly, impulsively grabbed his hands, and leaned in a bit closer, intent on getting the whole story.
Perry felt the air getting sucked out of the room.
"But it's not what you think." The words tumbled out of his mouth by themselves. He certainly didn't want her to think that he and Paul were having a tug of war over the same woman. Thinking quickly, he decided that a spin on the facts of his discussion with Paul might explain things enough to satisfy her. "See, Paul has been admiring…a certain woman for…quite a while. When I pushed him to show her his true feelings, he got angry with me. That's it. We both said some things we didn't mean, and…well, that's why we were both upset." He let out his breath, which he realized that he'd been holding since he started his little speech. He was so ashamed of himself that he couldn't look her in the eye anymore and he stared down at the desk.
Despite the fact that he was trying to minimize his quarrel with Paul, Della could tell that Perry was still really troubled, so she reached over and touched him under the chin with her knuckle, lifting his face. She got lost in his gorgeous blue eyes for a half-second, but snapped back to reality when she saw that they were shiny. "Oh, Chief!" In one fluid motion, she dropped her hand from his face to his breast pocket, pulled out his handkerchief, and brought it back up to the tear that was about to slip down his cheek. At the same time, she scooted onto his desk, where she sat and gently patted his cheek dry. "It's going to be all right. I'll talk to Paul. I can't believe that he's really mad at you. He'll understand that you were only trying to help. Everything is going to be fine."
Perry couldn't take it anymore. Startling her, he pushed himself out of his chair, so that their faces were exactly level. His face flushed with shame. "Della, I can't do this. The argument…was about you." Seeing the shocked look on her face, he instantly realized how Della must have misunderstood him. Of course she did; I'm a blundering fool.
"Paul? Me? I…what?" Now Della was completely confused. Just when she thought she had solved the mystery and was going to wrap things up neatly, Perry drops this bomb? Paul's in love with me?!
"Wait, no, I mean, it's not Paul, it's me," Perry tried to correct himself. What in the name of heaven am I saying? It sounds like gibberish even to my own ears.
To Perry's relief, Della giggled. She hopped off the desk, and was at his side in an instant. "C'mon, Boss." She grabbed him just above the elbow, as he had done with her so many times. He allowed her to guide him over to the sofa. They sat down next to each other, and she kicked off her shoes and pulled one leg up, tucking her foot under the other knee, so that she could face him. "Let's get this straightened out like we always do." She had surreptitiously grabbed her pencil and steno pad with her free hand on her way to the couch. "You talk; I'll listen and take notes," she stated efficiently.
Perry stayed silent, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded together tightly. His mind raced as it did in the courtroom, trying to analyze every angle of the case at once. All he really knew was that he couldn't mislead Della anymore. She wasn't a witness that he could manipulate, then put out of his mind after court had adjourned. But how am I going to set the story straight without revealing that I am, as Paul says, head over heels in love with her?
Della could see that she was going to have to pull the details out of him. "OK. First question: What's the real identity of this mystery woman that has caused you two to get in such a tiff? It's obviously not me. I know for a fact that Paul thinks of me like a sister. So, out with it. No more beating around the bush."
Perry looked down at his hands and answered quietly. "Actually, that part was true, Della. It is you," Her pencil remained poised over the open notepad.
"What?! Paul knows he's like a brother to me! The most adorable brother ever…one who calls me "beautiful" every time he sees me..." She realized that she was not making a very good case. It's a good thing that Perry is the lawyer, not I. She tried again. "Paul must know that we'll never have a romantic relationship!" She paused and cocked her head, looking quizzically at Perry. "Doesn't he?"
"Yes, Della, he does." Uh-oh, Perry thought, this is where things are going to get complicated. He forged ahead. "And do you know why Paul knows that?"
"Well, um, we just don't have that kind of…" A thought suddenly dawned on her. She looked up sharply at Perry. "Perry Mason, please tell me that you did NOT forbid Paul Drake to make advances on me!" She scrutinized his face as she waited for his answer.
Perry nodded: "That was the gist of it." Which was more or less true. At this point, he wasn't sure that he could rescue himself from this quicksand pit of his own making. He couldn't count the number of times in his career that he'd advised his clients to tell "the whole truth" to the police, or had himself used the phrase, "the truth will come out." And here I am, trying to twist the facts to save myself from humiliation.
"But why on earth would you care, even if Paul and I were … discreetly dating?"
"Della." He paused, looking her in the eye and choosing his words carefully. "As your employer, I feel that it's my job to protect you from the seedier elements of the big city. As part of Paul's job, and, hell, probably as part of his social life, Paul heads straight into those types of places. You are the best confidential secretary - correction, partner - that I have ever had, and if you even think for one second that I would let anyone put you in danger or that I would fail to protect you from it, you're absolutely mistaken."
Perry's protective words nearly melted her heart. But she was still trying to put all the bits and pieces of his story together. "So you and Paul fought…over me?"
All of the sudden, Perry made his decision. He sat up straight, squared his broad shoulders and lifted his chin. The hole he had dug was so deep that he would never be able to crawl out of it. He was done talking. Already today, he had most likely alienated the one man who would do anything for him, and now he was skirting the truth - one could say outright lying - to the woman for whom he would do anything. Paul was right. It was time to man-up.
Perry took the pad and pencil from Della's hands and tossed them on the floor, surprising her. Right now, before he lost his nerve, he had to lay it all on the line. If he failed miserably, so be it. This day was becoming one of the worst he could remember in recent history, and he felt like he deserved any punishment that God had in mind for him.
He shifted a bit awkwardly so that he was facing Della, took her soft hands into his, and searched her face for a signal. He couldn't read her expression. Confusion? Her eyes narrowed. Is she angry with me? With nothing to go on but instinct, Perry lifted her hands to his lips and lightly brushed her knuckles. His heart was beating so hard that he was sure she could hear it. He looked directly into her eyes as they widened. Still unsure what she was thinking, he held her gaze and leaned forward another inch. She drew a small breath and the slight part of her full lips looked so welcoming, that he almost let his hunger for her take over. Steady, Mason, he coached himself. He heard the echoes of his father's guidance decades before, "Remember that above all, son, she's a lady." Dad was right. If I am going to do this, I am going to do it the right way.
"Ms. Street, I can't answer any more of your questions, because…I think I want to kiss you right now." He rushed out the last part of the sentence before he could lose his resolve. I "think" I want to kiss you right now? I "think"?! What kind of feeble declaration was that? To tell the truth, he wasn't actually doing much thinking anymore. In fact, at this moment, he wasn't quite sure that he was even still fully conscious, as a dizzy feeling rushed up from his gut to his head.
Della was feeling a little faint herself. In the last few minutes, her emotions had fluctuated so many times that she was practically queasy. She had gone from her initial alarm (at hearing the shouting through Perry's office door) to concern, then back and forth from confusion to embarrassment…and now she wasn't sure what she was feeling. Is this really happening? Did Perry just say that he wanted to kiss me? She had heard those words so many times in her dreams that she wasn't entirely sure that he had indeed said them just now.
Della examined his expression, and she wondered how he could look both vulnerable and yet so masculine at the same time. He was waiting for her decision. She didn't take long to make it. Leaning forward, she lowered her eyelids, and murmured, "Are you sure, Mr. Mason?" Perry nodded once and whispered, "Actually, there's not a doubt in my mind."
Before either of them could change their minds, he eliminated the last few inches between them and their lips touched softly. As quickly as it had happened, it was over, and they both pulled back and searched the other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity.
Perry smiled just enough that his dimples showed. "Hmm. I should have asked you. Are you sure, Ms. Street?" Della grinned back and replied, "Oh, I think I want you to kiss me, too." He didn't need to hear anything else. No more words were necessary. Perry pulled Della close and they kissed deeply this time, parting only long enough for both of them to take a breath.
Their lips met again hungrily, with a passion that neither of them had ever felt, but that both had been waiting for since the day that Della walked into Perry's office and life. They kissed like it was the last time that they would ever be together, as if Perry were a soldier going off to war. Perry fleetingly thought that he had better reign himself in before he took things too far, but when Della's tongue pushed against his lips, he opened his mouth willingly and let out a groan of pleasure and surrender.
Perry could have savored the taste of Della's lips for hours, but it occurred to him that since Della was obviously a willing party, perhaps any area of bare skin was fair game. To test his theory, he let his mouth slowly trail from her bottom lip to her chin, then all the way down her neck, between the open buttons of her blouse. He tore himself away only to glance up and make sure that she wasn't uncomfortable with his boldness. As if to answer his unasked question, she tipped her head and arched back slightly with an "mmmm" as his strong right arm around her torso kept her steady. As a result of their shifting, Della's skirt had slipped up to mid-thigh, where Perry's left palm was firmly planted, with only the thin barrier of her nylons preventing him from having full access to her perfect legs. She was both worried and a little hopeful that his fingers might wander slightly upward.
Della brought her hands together behind his neck and bent down to sigh softly into his ear while he was preoccupied with her barely exposed cleavage. She wanted to touch more of him. It didn't seem fair that he had so many layers of clothes on, and with so many knots and buttons, she didn't know where to start.
Encircling Della's waist with his arms, Perry suddenly leaned back onto the sofa, and pulled her on top of him. He realized at once his mistake, as his groin instantly reacted, and he knew that Della could feel exactly how she was affecting him. Perry wasn't quite ready for that level of intimacy, especially today, especially in his office. He couldn't imagine wanting any woman more than he wanted Della right now, but despite his deep desire, his Catholic school upbringing and his respect for her prevailed.
Sucking in a deep breath, he sat back up, and with his large hands practically encircling her petite waist, twisted her into a more comfortable position sideways on his lap. "OK?" he asked her shyly. She swallowed hard and nodded. Perry pressed his face into her hair and breathed in deeply, then planted tiny kisses all the way around the outside of her ear, to her neck again, and back to her plunging neckline that ended just at the top of the swell of her chest. He stopped reluctantly and grinned boyishly at her. He had never been so happy.
Della took his face in her hands as she softly kissed his forehead…then his eyebrows…then his nose, his cheeks and chin. When she was satisfied that she had tended to every inch of his face, she moved up to his hair. When Perry's hair grew long enough to develop that gorgeous, perfect wave, Della wanted nothing more than to rake her fingers through his curls. Now, she lifted her hands and ran her fingers through his hair with abandon. She nuzzled his afternoon stubble and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back as if praying. As she started down his chin, another involuntary moan escaped his lips. He moved his left hand around to the small of her back to steady her, and briefly let go of her with his right hand to pull at the knot in his tie and clumsily undo the top button on his shirt, struggling to give Della's lips more area to cover. She took her time, teasing him mercilessly as she barely brushed her soft lips over his Adams apple.
A sharp, rhythmic knock at the side door interrupted them, and before they could jump apart, Paul burst into the office, saying, "I'm sorry Perry. I was out of line…" When his eyes shifted from the empty desk to the couch and refocused, he immediately realized what he had walked in on. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily, then arched dramatically, and he laughed deeply.
Perry, his hair mussed, and with a trail of lipstick all over his face and neck, did not move a hand off of Della, who was doing her best to appear mortified. With a deep voice and formal tone, Perry said to his friend, "No, Paul, it is I that should apologize. Simply put, I was an ass, a condition for which I am currently seeking treatment. I want to thank you for pointing out my incompetent, irrational and inexcusable behavior."
"Glad to help, Chief!" Paul chortled.
Paul's laughter was infectious, and Della started to giggle, too. "Do you two boys want me to leave you alone so that you can kiss and make up?"
Perry managed a look that combined astonishment, amusement and pride at the audacity and wit of the woman that he was holding in his arms. He rolled his eyes and shook his head at Paul, and the smile that spread across Perry's face told Paul that all was forgiven. Still grinning, Perry said, in a mock-serious tone, "Now, Paul, I hope you won't be offended if I tell you one more time today: 'Get out!'"
Paul, still laughing, turned and strode toward the hallway. As he took the last few steps, he heard Della say teasingly, "You have some explaining to do later, Counselor." Paul pulled the door shut behind him for the second time that day, this time without nearly as much force. Perry and Della had already resumed their lip-lock, so neither had heard Paul's quiet, parting words, "Bye, beautiful."
Paul leaned against the back of the closed door and sighed. Oh, well. She was never mine to begin with, and who am I to deny destiny? Despite the slightest bit of sadness that came from knowing that Della (and maybe no woman) would ever look at him the same way that she gazed at Perry, his heart swelled with the thought that his two best friends in the world were finally exactly where they should be. Together.